#And his resolve was challenged so badly in the face of realizing how much his meddling's hurt Ikoma's efforts to keep him alive

[river-muse]

The most recent session of the Starfinder campaign I've been in broke me so bad I had to go horizontal for a bit and then get the very last scene drawn <3 Tai really isn't allowed to keep anything good in his life.

After so many years they reunited at last in the worst way possible- and all this time neither of them have been able to let the other go in some fucked up co-dependency.

This arc was gonna be fun, they said. It's a Battle of The Bands event at Songbird Station for charity, they said. The team's Captain didn't sign up for his finally rebuilding confidence/mental health to shatter at Ikoma coming back into his life. Especially because it's unknown how much longer that Ikoma will even be alive for or if he'll even stay the rest of that time.

[nightghoul381]

Starlit Desperation~ Harrison x Reader

Day 5 Submission of my randomized challenge. Thank you @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess

Prompt: 5. Starry Nights Pairing: Harrison Gray x Reader Genre: Angst

A lone figure sat on a secluded rooftop, chin resting on his knees as he looked out over the city. Pale silver light glittered from the stars watching above him, a thousand eyes casting their judgement.

He didn’t want to do it. The look on your face tore his heart to shreds with every word he spoke.

“I don’t want you anymore.”

“It didn’t mean anything to me, just a way to pass the time.”

“It was a bit of fun, that’s all.”

“You need to leave me alone. I’m done with you.”

Each lie that had spilled from his lips was another drop of poison added to the swirling confusion in your mind. You didn’t understand, that much was blatantly obvious. You had desperately grabbed his arm in an attempt to prevent him from disappearing.

“You…you don’t mean that, Harry.” You had insisted, tears threatening to leap from your glistening eyes.

It hurt so badly to shake off your grip. He fought every instinct to pull you in and hold you close.

It’s for the best, he told himself. The more involved you were with him, the more your life was in danger. He had managed to fend off the threats thus far, but this last time… The gun pointed at you was seconds from being fired when he finally noticed and dispatched the attacker.

It was far too close. You were so shaken when the reality of your near demise had finally sunk in. Harry had spent the night cradling you in his arms, whispering reassurances in your ear until at last you had managed to relax enough to fall asleep.

You didn’t know that after he tenderly laid you on his bed, snug under the covers, he had stolen off to a dark room, trembling. He had nearly lost you. He almost lost the sight of your smile, the sound of your laughter. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to make sure this never happened again.

Eventually, he had concluded the best way would be breaking your heart, pushing you away from the danger that followed him, and on to a bright future. A future where you could go on smiling, laughing. A future where the stench of death wouldn’t haunt you, its threat of capturing you a distant memory.

Of course, you had cried. He knew you would. What he hadn’t realized was how each tear would cut at him, shattered glass penetrating his skin and nearly severing his resolve. He hated himself for doing this to you. He wished he could go back and keep his distance from you, preventing himself from causing you this pain.

The stars glimmered mockingly, highlighting the bustling city below. People going about their night without a care, completely unaware of the devastation he had caused. Perhaps Liam had found you. He was excellent at comforting people. He could keep you safe. That thought twisted the knife a little deeper. You deserved to be safe.

He let his eyes close, sealing him in his darkness. He allowed himself to selfishly imagine your touch, your soft voice calling his name. The comforting scent of your perfume wreathing around him seemed so real, he choked back a sob.

“Harry, please. Open your eyes.”

He must be losing his mind now. Who knew heartbreak could cause such vivid hallucinations?

Laying his head back on the roof, he was startled to feel something soft meet the back of his head rather than the rough shingles he was expecting.

His mint-colored eyes flew open, met by your bright gaze.

“I knew you were lying.” Your quiet accusation cascaded over him as his breath caught in his throat.

He stared up at you in disbelief. You were so gorgeous, your body framed in silver by the light of the stars. You were smiling. His heart ached seeing that smile. It was wrong, you shouldn’t be smiling at him, you should be screaming, hitting, cursing him for toying with you. Instead, you gently caressed his hair, brushing it back from his face.

“Tell me the truth, Harrison. Do you love me?”

He swallowed thickly. He could lie, he was good at it. If he did you would be safe. But the selfish desire of his depraved mind seemed to win out. His head slowly moved, nodding.

Your smile grew brighter before you leaned down, smoothing your lips against his. Conflicted emotions warred in his heart as you deepened the kiss. He needed to protect you, but the joy that welled up inside him at the taste of your lips was intoxicating.

I can’t do it. I need you. His mind spiraled while he righted himself, pulling you into his arms, letting his tears fall silently as he cupped your cheeks, stealing your lips yet again.

I just can’t let you go.

[maeby-words]

Reflections on a Punishment

I fucked up. Badly. The details are private, but it was something that could have had multiple and significant negative ramifications. Without our dynamic in place, it’s the sort of thing that would have left Sir feeling angry and frustrated. I would have felt guilty. However, we may not have even discussed how we were feeling. If we did, it’d be a brief exchange. Nothing likely would have been resolved. But we do have a power exchange dynamic, and it includes punishment.

We both realized what I had done while we had company, and Sir was about to leave for an appointment. I resolved the primary issue, and I let him know via a text. After company left and we had dinner, he told me to clean up. I indicated I would and went back to my phone. He said he wasn’t asking and to get it done immediately. Then he told me to change into sweats and meet him in the basement. I immediately knew what he had in mind.

As I cleaned up and changed, my stomach felt tight and I had a sense of dread. I do before most every punishment. It always surprises me how much I can need something but still fear it. But isn’t that the point? Punishment wouldn’t work for me if my first thought was arousal or enjoyment. But I also felt a sense of love and a sense of peace.

I made my way to the basement, locking the door behind me. Sir was standing, waiting for me. The bath brush was on the table behind him. He lectured me briefly as I stood before him. I didn’t quite know where to look or what to do with my hands, I felt awkward. The moments before being told what to do with myself always feel long. But I paid attention, absorbing his points. He then put me into position and lowered my pants. He went in hard with the bath brush.

The first dozen or so swats, when it’s punishment, are always the hardest to take. My body wants to react and move, and my mind is still wrapping itself around what’s happening. I fight to stay in position and present myself well. I fight the swirl of thoughts to be in the moment. They’re also some of the most important swats of the spanking. When delivered hard and without a warmup, it takes a spanking from a fantasy fulfilled to pain and contrition. It requires deep submission to not block or move away. It starts to create a real change in behavior and silent promises to myself to never be back in that position.

As the punishment continues, my body adjusts and my mind clears. Submission comes easier. The initial shock is gone. It’s still challenging, but in a new way. This is where continuing education takes place - leaving marks and bruises that will be a reminder of how to behave every time I sit or, for serious offenses, move. A reminder that I earned my spanking, that the punishment was well deserved and well delivered.

Sir had me move over his lap for more swats with the bath brush, and then onto my knees in front of him. We talked more about what I had done, and he emphasized that it could never happen again. I promised it wouldn’t. We moved on to other important topics. I felt safe and soft before him, grateful for the lesson and his guidance. Grateful that he takes care of me in areas where I don’t always take good care of myself. Grateful he takes the time to correct me, and that it opens up our communication.

Later in bed, we chatted a bit about the punishment and the results. I was back to feeling a bit awkward, trying to synthesize my thoughts on the spot. But thankful he wanted to discuss it. He admitted that he probably went a bit easy on my due to positioning issues, and he said that our normal maintenance on Sunday would be a second punishment given the seriousness of the offense. I sort of mumbled and nodded that it seemed fair, embarrassed to need more. Knowing it would only help. And it is fair. The punishment was hard, but I agree that it could have been much harder and longer. The consequences I could have faced pale in comparison to any punishment from Sir. I haven’t been spanked to tears, but if ever there was a time to try and take me there this was likely it.

Not that there isn’t continuing education going on today. My sit spots have a deep ache, a reminder every time I’m seated that Sir loves and cares about me. That he believes that I can do and be better. That mistakes are made and forgiven. I expect that Sunday’s punishment will not be easy, and I have a healthy amount of nervous energy about it. But I also look forward to it in the sense that Sir knows what I need without me even having to ask and cares enough to provide it. We are both better for it. In that sense, I couldn’t ask for more.

[elysianslove]

haikyuu boys and tropes that suit them!

includes: kageyama tobio, iwaizumi hajime, oikawa tōru, sakusa kiyoomi, miya osamu, miya atsumu, suna rintarō

(possibly part 1??? consider this an apology for not posting as much 💔)

kageyama tobio — practice kissing. 

kageyama is, as embarrassing as it is for him to admit this, inexperienced, greatly so. he’s in his third year of high school, 18, and is yet to have his first kiss. college is approaching him dauntingly quick, and he doesn’t think he can handle being as clueless as he is for any longer. so while you’re sat on his bed scrolling through his phone, he bluntly asks you if you’ve ever kissed someone. he seemed so confident, and the words were straightforward and lacked any sign of anxiety or uneasiness. but the moment they left his mouth, he’s red in the face and his hands are shaking. when you agree to help him practice, he’s scared, shy, flustered, and his heart is in his throat, but he lets you lead the, setting the pace yourself as you sit before him, his face in your hands, pulling him closer to you. it’s electrifying, to put it to the least. he’d heard a million horror stories from his upperclassmen about first kisses, but he finds himself unable to relate. everything about the kiss and you is perfect, and he asks for more practice, starts looking forward to theses ‘sessions.’ he starts growing more and more confident, until he’s the one flustering you, the one making you gasp and squirm and mewl, not the other way around. and maybe he’ll find it in him to confess. maybe. 

iwaizumi hajime — friends to lovers. 

in general, with iwaizumi, he has a hard time believing in that he’s meant for a relationship, in that he has his own person, and for many reasons. he tries to be rational about it, saying he has other priorities at the moment, that he won’t be able to give his all, that he’s not particularly ready or in the right headspace/situation to commit to a person and a relationship. but it’s also, deep down, because of this indescribable fear of not being enough, of his flaws being too much, of being too imperfect. he just chooses not to get a headache over it, honestly. that’s why friends to lovers is perfect for him. it’s this person who he’s known for a long time, someone he’s come to know so well, so deeply, and vice versa. they’ve seen the bad and good of each other, been through all the ups and downs, learnt all their quirks, their habits, their tendencies. this is someone who is already a priority, someone who is already a constant. of course, he still hurts his head thinking about how wrong it is to have feelings for his friend, and the shame and guilt eats at him from the inside out. but it’s just so— easy. to love them. it’s so, so easy, as easy as breathing. and iwaizumi spends such a large amount of time pining and yearning that the final straw, the snap, the breathless confession, is so satisfying. 

oikawa tōru — enemies to lovers. 

oikawa wants and needs someone that’ll both keep him on his toes, always pushing him to the very edge but not completely over. he needs someone that excites him, someone that he has to work to earn. the word enemies is blurry to him. all he sees is someone playing hard to get, and he takes it as a challenge. it’s not that he wants and needs everyone to be in love with him and how dare you not be swooning at the sight of me!! it’s more that this person intrigues him impossibly. this person challenges him, bites back, and bites back hard. and the transition from enemies to lovers is so smooth with him, because it’s unpredictable and unexpected. one moment you’re swearing at him across the hall, the next you’re tenderly massaging at his injured knee and reassuring him of his hard work and efforts. it’s beautiful, really. the snarky comments and the flirty comebacks and the glares returned with playful grins, and them the moment of realization that opens up a whole new door that this person isn’t so bad after all. the satisfaction of finally giving in, either so slowly, so carefully and timidly, or rushed, hurried and desperate. so good. 

sakusa kiyoomi — there was only one bed! 

sakusa does not share. it’s nothing personal (sometimes it is), but he just prefers to have his own private space, where he can be comfortable. but things happen! like a trip where you’re stuck in the same room! and there’s only one bed! and the person you’re stuck with is the same person you’re very confused in regards to your feelings about them! the trip is a couple of days, and so it starts with the offer to sleep on the couch. it’s very uncomfortable, but he does it anyways, because a) he’s a gentleman, and b) you both now each have your private, safe space. two days pass, and you both tiredly pass out on the bed next to one another. he wakes up before you in horror and falls onto the couch quickly, but he doesn’t fall asleep again. as if this were fate’s play, you find yourself unable to sleep, and neither can he, so you quietly scoot over, a silent invitation. reluctantly, he accepts. he doesn’t spend that night sleeping either, instead simply stares at you, his hand outreaching for you, but not quite touching. eventually comes a day when he wakes up with your face buried in his shoulder, and although his cheeks are as warm as ever, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable. he only feels grateful to be finally touching you. 

miya osamu — soft only for their lover. 

it’s not that osamu is rude to others, or hates everyone else, or anything along those lines. it’s more that he’s less likely to open up, be vulnerable, be softer, easier than compared to with his partner. with his lover, he smiles easier, expressions are readable, his eyes always a dead giveaway to what’s on his mind. he’s colder and less approachable to others, but it’s almost as if his resolve melts the moment he spots his lover. he could be yelling at someone, angrily, then turn to his partner and in the softest voice say, “just a moment, my love,” and go back to yelling as if it were completely normal. similarly, he will always take his lover’s side of the argument regardless of whether they’re right or wrong. and, he’ll be kissing his lover, but pause for a moment to deck his brother, then return to kissing his lover again even softer. it’s because his lover owns such a big part of his heart, and when osamu loves, he loves with every part of him. he’s been called out on it multiple times; the fact that he’s so much meaner and harsher and stubborn with everyone else, including his brother, but it’s always the opposite with you. you are his soft spot, really, and it tickles your tummy whenever you notice the little changes and shifts in his attitude and personality when it comes to you. 

miya atsumu — enemies to lovers. 

unlike with oikawa’s case, you and atsumu genuinely hate each other. you despise his attitude, his cockiness, his ideals, his approaches, his voice, his hair, everything, and likewise, he can’t stand you. he’d only ever been rude to you, and in response, you’d defended yourself by being equally as rude. this isn’t playing hard to get enemies, this is i hate your guts enemies. rarely does being in a room with him not result in some sort of argument. your mutual friends are all fed up, of the arguments, the fighting, the smack talk behind one another’s backs, the complaining, everything. it’s infuriating, and so they beg you to talk it out, to try and resolve whatever it was going on between you, but either he wouldn’t cooperate, or you wouldn’t. it seemed hopeless, until at some point in time, you get badly hurt, maybe mentally or physically, but atsumu finds himself worried unbelievably. it’s irrational to be, especially with your history with one another. but he’s worried, insanely so, and when he finds you, finds out you’re okay, or you will be, the relief that fills him is dizzying and so, scary. but maybe the both of you were just projecting onto each other, the fact that you so badly wanted each other but felt like you couldn’t do anything. 

suna rintarō — brother’s best friend. 

it’s a dash of forbidden love, a dash of friends to lovers. he’s your brother’s best friend, older than you, and it’s wrong, you know it is, but you can’t help it. on the days he’s invited over, you purposely make sure to stay at home, and you make excuses to pass by your brother’s room constantly, to talk to him. he knows you like him, knows you’re desperately chasing after him in your own subtle way, and for a while, suna lets you. he acts dumb, none the wiser, lets you have your little fun of sneaking snaps of him to send to your friends and when you purposely press your leg against his sitting next to him on the couch or when you offer your lollipop after you suck on it. he indulges you, slightly, subtly. and when he sees it suitable, finds it right, he starts to return the advances: he accidentally arrives a little earlier than planned to your home when he’s invited, and he passed by you in school more often, and he makes up excuses to text you all the time. eventually, the sexual tension is unbearable, suffocating, incredibly overwhelming, and when it snaps, nothing else matters. just the two of you. he’s experienced, good with his words and his hands and his mouth and he’s a dream. and all you do is fall deeper, and deeper, and deeper. 

[actuallysaiyan]

Hi! This is the Madara anon! So you can disregard my last ask because I decided to send this request instead! Can I get some cockwarming headcanons with the founders (Izuna included of course) + Kakashi and Yamato??

Word count: 1,528 Pairings: Hashirama Senju x Reader, Madara Uchiha x Reader, Tobirama Senju x Reader, Izuna Uchiha x Reader, Kakashi Hatake x Reader and Yamato x Reader Warnings: Cockwarming, smut, unprotected sex A/N: Thanks for indulging me in some very sexy headcanons today ;) You’re welcome to request anytime.

One day, you come to the Hokage office and Hashirama is looking very stressed out.

You walk over to him and give him a gentle shoulder massage and he melts right into it. That’s when you get an idea.

You move to his lap and start to undress him from the waist down. Hashirama is wondering what you’re doing, but he’s so stressed, he doesn’t care.

You slowly remove your panties and allow his cock to slide deep inside your tight slick. Hashirama grunts as he realizes what you’re doing.

“Are you here to just warm up my cock, darling?” he whispers in your ear, and you wiggle your hips just a little to hear him groan.

He begins looking over the paperwork again, and you’re just leaning against his chest. You can feel his cock twitch inside of you, which makes you so wet.

Hashirama hardly has any control. It feels so good, and he wants to fuck you so badly, but he needs to get this paperwork down.

“You feel really good,” he says with a sigh. He’s having a hard time focusing, but he just sits as still as he can.

You start to move slowly, and Hashirama is literally losing his resolve. It’s going to take so little for him to bend you over the desk and start pounding into you.

One more little movement from you, and he does just that. You’re bent over his desk with your ass in the air. He doesn’t even pull out to bend you over. He just starts pounding into you, moaning and tugging on your hair gently.

If you decide to take charge of the situation with cockwarming, but Hashirama starts thrusting, all you need to do is scold him a little and he’s melting at your attitude. He loves it when you are demanding.

Madara is the one who sits you on his lap. He’s rock hard and waiting for you to take off your pants and panties.

He’s mean and rough, but with cockwarming, it’s just something that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

He loves the way your cunt grips on his fat cock, and he loves how close you are. 

Sometimes, Madara just needs to be close to you, and he craves that intimacy. He wants to feel you near him, and he wants to feel your cunt pulsing around him.

It’ll probably end in fucking, but sometimes it doesn’t. It just feels warm, wet and inviting.

“I love the way your pussy feels,” he says as he nuzzles your neck. He’s feeling needy.

He’ll wrap his arms around you and just cuddle into you while his cock is deep inside of you.

If you start to move against him, he’s going to get a little mean about it. He’ll warn you.

“If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to pull out and leave you here all by yourself,” he warns. You know he means it too.

Your cunt twitches involuntarily, and Madara grunts. You look over your shoulder to see that mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You wanna take charge?” he challenges. You shake your head, but Madara is already thrusting up into you harshly.

With Madara, cockwarming usually ends with him pumping you full of cum.

Tobirama is grumpy, but he is so needy. He loves the intimacy of cockwarming so much.

If you bother him at the Hokage’s office, he might use it a little as punishment. You know he has so much work to do.

He’ll sit you on his cock, and he’ll let the head rub your folds. You’re whining a little until he just slides inside of you.

“Fuck your pussy is just milking me and I’ve barely done anything,” Tobirama whispers in your ear. “Just sit tight until I get through all of this paperwork,”

You whine slightly as he uses his non-dominant hand to hold down your hips so you won’t wiggle.

You try to thrust against him, but he just keeps giving you a small smack to the ass. He’s making sure you keep your hips still.

Every once in a while, Tobirama just thrusts hard into you and makes you squeal in surprise. He loves the way your face contorts into surprise pleasure.

“You’re doing really good, princess. Should I fuck you once I’m done with this or should we go home?” he asks, as he’s nearing the last page.

You plead for him to fuck you, and he makes a big scene of thinking about it. You know he won’t be able to resist.

You start clenching his cock, and he’s grunting every time you do it. It feels so heavenly.

He doesn’t wait until you get home, instead he takes you right then and there in the office. Tobirama fucks you hard and roughly, but he makes sure to rub your clit.

Izuna is a little needy with this too. If he’s home and just relaxing, he’ll pull you onto his lap.

His cock teases your folds, making you really wet. You’re whining for him to just take you, but instead he just continues to tease you.

“I want you to keep my cock warm, baby. Just let me be inside of you while I relax,” Izuna says with a slight chuckle. You’re pleading with him, but it’s falling on deaf ears.

He slides his cock deep inside of you, and it stretches you out so good.

“You like this,baby?” Izuna asks as he lets you lean against his chest. You’re practically panting as his cock head rubs against your g spot accidentally.

“Just relax, kitten.” He’s soothing you with just his voice. You both sit like this for a little while, enjoying the closeness it gives you.

Izuna loves the way your cunt grips him involuntarily. It’s making him get so close already, and you haven’t actually fucked.

“You really are this desperate for my cock, huh?” Izuna teases as he lightly thrusts up against you. You moan as his cock head reaches your g spot again.

“Please Izuna…” you beg, but once again, he just holds your hips down so you don’t move against him.

Izuna loves cockwarming with you. It feels so good to have you this close to him. Sometimes, he wants to fall asleep with his cock deep inside of you. It keeps him close to you.

Sometimes, if he’s at home relaxing, he’ll cockwarm with you under a blanket even if Madara is home as well.

Kakashi adores cockwarming. He loves the way it makes you both so close. He’s all about intimacy when he’s in a long term relationship.

Sometimes, he just pulls you onto his lap and sinks his cock into you.

You both love doing this while reading Icha Icha. It’s one of your favorite things to do as a couple.

“You feel really good,” Kakashi groans as your cunt starts to pulse a little.

He’ll be very weak about this. His cock is rock hard deep within you and he’s struggling not to just start thrusting.

Kakashi is very much a fan of lazy morning cockwarming. He’s got morning wood and he just slips it deep inside of you.

You’re barely awake when you feel your cunt stretch to Kakashi’s fat cock. It feels so good.

Your inhibitions are low when you’re still sleepy, so you might start thrusting back against him.

Kakashi needs to hold you back before you make him cum hard.

“P-please...just relax baby,” Kakashi mutters as you stop your thrusting.

You both enjoy the feeling of being this close to each other while relaxing in bed. Kakashi may fuck you later, but he loves cockwarming.

You let Yamato know about cockwarming one day. You’re just chatting about sex, which really flusters him.

It doesn’t take much convincing for him to want to try it out. You start by stripping naked, and Yamato watches your gorgeous body.

You sink down on his rock hard cock, and Yamato is just so weak. He’s feeling very needy and he’s not sure if he can just let you sit on his cock like this without fucking you.

“P-please let me fuck you...I need you,” Yamato says, but you don’t move your hips.

He starts to lightly thrust into you, but you just give him a dirty look.

Finally, Yamato just allows you to torture him a little with your wet pussy. You clench around him, and he’s gasping lightly.

It doesn’t take long for him to start fucking you, and you’re so wet that you just let him start pounding you.

Sometimes, when Yamato comes home from a particular hard mission, he enjoys the closeness of cockwarming.

 When you’re both lying in bed, and he just slowly slides his cock into you. He’s just restraining himself from pounding you.

Your cunt is just always so damn wet and warm. Yamato loves cockwarming a lot, but it always ends in fucking.

He can’t help himself. He’s horny and he needs to make you feel good. He wants you to cum all over his cock.

He’ll entertain the idea of cockwarming from time to time, but prefers sex.

[comeandreadawhile]

Clone Social Media : Hobbies

The phenomenon starts with the intention to show the civilians of the Republic the men behind the armor, as well as an encouragement for the men to do the things they enjoy when they have the time to in lieu of sitting around cleaning weapons for a third time that day.

Scratch that—the phenomenon starts with High General Kenobi, on a rare day of leave, teaching his Marshal Commander how to bake. Said Commander’s men were happy to taste test the flurry of experimental confections that pervaded their leave days in the following months. News spread fast of Marshal Commander Cody having a knack for baking, and so followed the spread of troopers attempting to make their own treats and/or branching off into other things the civilians called “hobbies” whenever what they could get their hands on afforded them.

The phenomenon kicked off when Padawan Commander Tano began a social media account with the intention of using it as a public diary, her first post was a picture taken of some of the 501st—with permission, her caption says—as they went about retouching paint scuffed in their most recent battle. The men are relaxed, some with paint smeared on their hands and cheeks and seemingly reacting to some joke or story told outside the threshold of the camera, and it’s an almost startling difference from the image of rigid lines of men, faceless in their full kits of white plastoid, that the civilians are used to. Tano’s second post is a video clip of one Captain Rex, with one General Skywalker sitting on his back counting reps, doing push-ups; the video was captioned “Another day in the G.A.R., restless in hyperspace.”

The digital diary continues from there, videos and pictures of specific locations posted only after reaching a safe distance to do so, never sharing anything mission critical—past, current, or hypothetical future. Eventually she shows the men under her how to make their own accounts, and other Jedi and their own troops follow suit. The 212th then takes it upon themselves to post pictures of the little cakes their Marshal Commander has gotten so proficient at making, and, when General Kenobi creates a joint account titled “command_212”, convince Cody to post pictures of things he bakes before they are distributed—even in the process of baking, if the fancy strikes him.

So Marshal Commander Cody shares pictures of his experiments, of recipes he finds that turned out well, of recipes that didn’t because of some error or other that he’s determined to give another go, with the occasional cryptid picture of General Kenobi taking his tea in the barrack’s kitchen. As time goes on those pictures shift to Obi-Wan covered in flour, or a shot taken from several feet away of Cody sneaking batter captioned “caught red-handed in the red velvet”.

As Marshal Commander of the 212th has taken to baking to relieve stress, the Commander of the 104th has turned to needlecraft and yarnwork.

The 104th retaliate the populatrity of the 212th’s command account with the domesticity of their own, despite the vaguely threatening possibilities of knitting and sewing needles. Boost and Sinker run the majority of the account, although all OG members of the 104th have access to it; they post pictures of the things Wolffe makes them, of General Plo covered in the lengths of scarves he’s received, of Comet in the ever-growing swath the gifted blankets with the current tally in the caption (his toes were off the floor by blanket burrito 6). The holonet at large loves Plo almost as much as his men, and once a week they post him saying some piece of sage wisdom—or utter nonsense, as the mood strikes—as the war goes on. After months of asking for a face reveal and requests for the patterns people are sure Wolffe uses, they make the most Force-forsaken tutorial videos as an all-in-one series.

“HOLY **** HE’S CASTING ON 12 TO START—“ “WHAT A MAD MAN!”

“So when you get to this row here you’re going to knit 3, purl 3–“ “TRANSCENDENT!” “—yes, thank you, and then keep doing that until you reach the end of the row...”

“Oh, OH MAN HE’S GONNA DO IT!” “HE’S GONNA CHANGE COLORS!” “Holy **** man he’s gonNA YOOOOOOOOOO!”

Cody is then issued a challenge by the holonet to learn to knit. He learns to crochet. Because Obi-Wan knows how to crochet. The holonet loves video snippets of them progressing on projects together. They also love the videos Ahsoka posts of Cody attempting to teach Rex, and praise the absolutely completely unrelated hat she later posts a picture of; it covers her Montrals with enough room for a few years’ growth. Anakin gets yarn stuck in his mechanical hand because he forgot to put his glove on before attempting to craft.

The real throwdown happens when the account for the Coruscant Guard posts videos of Fox aggressively tatting while venting about the lack of funding for proper security and surveillance tech.

Each posts sees a comical increase in the surfaces covered in lace doilies and runners, as well as a new topic for Fox’s venting.

A picture of an pillow embroidered with “Kriff the Seppies” is briefly posted to the 104th’s account before being taken down and replaced with a censor bar. Rumors begin to circulate when Senator Chuchi posts a picture wearing a gifted lace shawl; Senator Amidala comments on her confusion being resolved as to why Riyo kept bringing little baskets of crochet thread with her before a senate meetings.

A competition for ship nose art starts up, many votes going to the 501st, and the holonet’s heart once again melting at “Plo’s Bros”. Personal art begins popping up soon after. Fives starts posting spray paint tutorials, Rex and Hardcase become popular for clean graphic art. Bly gets his hands on metallic paint and the crowds go wild. Kix has taken his clean haircut game to the next level.

And then Colt and Shaak Ti make an account to post art the Littles make, most of them representations of their older brothers with wishes of safety and good luck, and of the only Jedi they’ve ever known, sometimes creatures they studied in their preparation for worlds outside of Kamino. Of batches passing their final tests with a congratulatory post.

Suggestions and instructions are sent out for clones who want to take and sell commissions, allowing them to finally make some money; most Jedi are more than happy to help make sure the finished work mails out properly to the buyers.

Ships of the non-nose art kind surface on the holonet. It’s generally agreed upon that command_212 is run by husbands, and Aayla is the protector of the 327th and Bly’s heart, even if she’s a clumsy menace around his artwork (caf spilled over a drying watercolor can be interesting or terrible depending on the circumstance). No one can agree whether Skywalker is married to his captain or Senator Amidala, but everyone agrees that Ahsoka is their baby. The holonet declares Plo to have Big Dad Energy. Shaak Ti’s Big Mom Energy is a friendly rival. The Jedi council has made no official statement denying or denouncing these attachments.

Public interest begins to shift from producing more soldiers to making sure the ones the Republic has stay alive, when the realization hits that within a couple of years the children posting art and losing teeth would probably be losing blood and brothers on some far away planet. Of making sure the men are eating well instead of just surviving. Well certain account-holders don’t post for a while, grieving a loss, posting again to reassure their followers they’re alright, the public questions what’s being done to keep the men emotionally and mentally well outside of the hobbies the public knows them for. “Born to handle any stress” is very much the wrong answer.

Pressure is put on the Chancellor to let the Separatists sucede, no one quite sure anymore why allowing them to would be harmful when at worst new trade agreements would need to be brokered; if they want to leave so badly, let them. And let the men have their hobbies.

(Sad thoughts ahead)

Sometimes commissioners never receive their orders, simply a refund with a letter from that clone’s Jedi after the latest battle ends. Any money they’d made would be split however their closest brothers decide.

The channel that always posts pranks and spray paint tutorials makes a post saying they’d be away to look after their sick little brother. It’s the last post they make.

The Coruscant Guard’s account stops posting a few nights later.

After Order 66 goes out, a new account goes up posting any pictures and cute videos of Aayla. Reposting old ones that the public is sure they’d seen somewhere before, posting new ones of funny faces and ridiculous videos of silly dances. The last one is the only one captioned, “she wasn’t a traitor.”

The account is deleted the same night, and the one of the 327th’s adventures never posts again.

Wolfpack_104 does not post, but is still there.

Command_212 is deleted almost immediately the night of the order.

Years go by, almost sixteen, and only after Vader already knows she’s alive does Ahsoka post again. It’s a picture of her, and Rex and Wolffe onboard the Ghost in hyperspace captioned “Was never a traitor. Always the little sister even if I’m four years older. In case you’re wondering, Rex still draws and Wolffe still knits when we can nab the string and flimsi.”

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain (part 2)

A/n since y’all liked part one!!

... i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol 

This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest 

Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)

-- 

Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly. 

Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context--that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.

I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow. 

He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way. 

No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.

Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted. 

I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.

The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever. 

“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.” 

His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.” 

The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?” 

He can never know. “Obviously.” 

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.” 

The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way? 

“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.” 

The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.” 

I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this. 

I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.” 

“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”

Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just--I wanted to get some air.” 

“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?” 

The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.” 

Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”

A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation. 

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way. 

He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat. 

“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.” 

My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.” 

“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride...but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.” 

Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone--the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.

Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?” 

I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.” 

He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again. 

My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier. 

“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.

 Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear--testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.

I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me. 

“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve. 

He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”

I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?” 

“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?” 

I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you--an accident.” 

“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?” 

I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.” 

Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm. 

“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning. 

I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?” 

He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively. 

To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?” 

He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent. 

“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.” 

If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all---core. His staring lacks any shame. 

Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one. 

“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.” 

Understanding? “What is there to understand?” 

His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable. 

“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”

I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted--now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain--I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea. 

“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.” 

He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected. 

My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.” 

I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.” 

The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?” 

His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?” 

“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words. 

Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist--a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another--but it’s good to know you would have told me.”

My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier--touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure. 

“Are you--” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”

At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn't be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?” 

I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly. 

“What kind of punishment?” 

Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”

Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t--he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”

The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?” 

I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.” 

His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”

He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?” 

Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.” 

My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.

He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip. 

“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.” 

He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it. 

“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you--so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall--I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down. 

I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What--” 

Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.” 

His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin. 

The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical. 

I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn. 

Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.” 

He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion. 

“Kirigan.” 

His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”

Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his. 

I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity. 

As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.

His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off. 

It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am. 

If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.” 

Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.” 

His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.

I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.

When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” 

Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines. 

He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips. 

Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?” 

It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want. 

“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential. 

Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.” 

I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly. 

The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat. 

The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more. 

He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible. 

“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.” 

A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.

He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.” 

I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it.  My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars--and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out. 

My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.

“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.” 

His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking. 

“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t--”

“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.” 

Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together. 

We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs. 

When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?” 

Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.” 

I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back. 

--

Tags: @luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy 

@i-padfootblack-things

 @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @benbarnes-supremacy

@we-love-our-bandz @fire-in-her-veinz @weirdowithnobeardo @bvudzsoo @kaque @ponyboys-sunsets @coldlilheart @granillx @dreamohlittledreamofme @sanna2020 @zaynzierulez 

@ive-died-everday-waiting-for-you @xxaerynxx @ralesera @tea-effect 

@tranquillitymoon

[yostresswritinggirl]

Genshin Boys would be Horrible as Disney Princes

Headcanon and Reader Perspective, Drabble

Sojourner Special (Followers Event)

Despite being the gentleman and sweethearts that they are, in the wrong hands, of badly aligned context and universal rules these boys can barely function as princes given their own ideals.

Diluc in Cinderella

Shortest one, oops.

Our Diluc would honestly be too busy for balls if we're doing this canonically, night time of all times. He's not your prince tonight, he's off somewhere doing Knight stuff...

If by chance you did catch him in the ball and he did indulge you with your dance until you escapaded at midnight, he's not gonna question it.

And since he didn't even REMEMBER your face, the next day just goes on as usual. No decree for searching the whole land for your foot or anything, it's just a normal day after a party.

"They left without a word, no name or promise, who am I to say no when they clearly don't want to stay?"

He's a gentleman. Too gentlemanly...

Childe in Sleeping Beauty

In this scenario, Childe embraces his knight-ness more than the princely aspect. I mean sure, he danced with you in the forest all so lovingly, sang along to your pretty lil voice. But when the prophecy came, his focus changed—

To the thrill of fighting a big ass green fire breathing dragon! Big woah, Childe had soooo much fun fighting it that he didn't even cheese it.

He lived for every hour of the fight and made it as slow as possible. Taunting, playing with his PREY- mid-fight the dragon would realize just how strong and horrifying Prince Childe is, but the entertainment had started, and the dance won't end until Childe wills it.

When he DID finally slay the damned thing, he'll come up to your quarters and stare at your sleeping body, and then think "Hey, if them being put under this spell gave me the fight of the century? What if ANOTHER dragon comes? That would be amazing!" No waking up for you, or the whole city for that matter.

Albedo in Frog Princess

You... You don't even get the chance to be the frog princess in here... simply because he himself REFUSES to change back to normal. You have never met a man so intelligent, much more a frog.

"I know of which you are not, I won't be fooled by cardboard crowns and secondhand dresses," you choke as he berates every fiber of your being, "It matters not, I still have much to learn about the life of an amphibian."

He disappears after that and you've never heard from him ever again, although at the back of your mind you're pretty sure he's a live and well, that bastard is too smart to end up as roadkill.

And well, you're right, he's out there in the world of frogs doing frog things. Triumphant over frog science and the other talking creatures he may meet.

He'll also find a way to revert himself back to normal, either making his own cure or just enlisting the help of a princess to bargain.

He might come to you upon the logic of marriage counting you as princess, but don't get too hyped, you won't be treated as his wife. He'd be too busy putting his frog research into paper...

Zhongli in Beauty and the Beast

A beast he may be, he's still dignified and elegant, upholding his end of the bargain so long as the other does the same.

Your father may have trespassed and have taken some flowers in his domain but well, really it's such a petty crime that can easily be solvable. And even if there needs to be punishment incured...

When you stumble to the mansion in search of your father, ready to take his place from his jail cell, you find him and the beast (ohh half-dragon Zhongles) by an elegant table drinking cups of tea with light conversation. Huh?

"There is no need to fret, your father and I are just discussing the terms of our contract. He spoke of his woodworks that I wish to commission in exchange, such good potential should not be wasted."

You can also, well, pay off things within contract? But either way, it would be hella awakward, he won't impose on your life and most certainly not about the curse when you had so much to live for.

Kaeya in Rapunzel

Little bitch, thru and thru. If Eugene is such a criminal, he's taking it TENFOLD.

He's not even gonna be the slightest bit trustworthy for you, little Rapunzel, because he raises so many red flags your frying pan wouldn't even be enough to threaten him. He probably has a really thick skull, and your resolve won't be able to smack that pretty face.

Bargaining won't work, he'd sleight of hand his way out and get the crown knowing you'd hid it in the pot immediately, and then just backflip outta there.

If you manage to get him to get you out, he's not gonna be of help either. Kaeya would be amused with toying with you, leaving you in the dark as you get scared shitless/dance around with some tavern criminals. Otherwise, ehh...

One way or another, he's gonna find a way to get you off his case. Either forcing you to travel with companions that's headed to the city anyways or forcefully knocking you out and heaving you back to your tower.

"You have a mother that never ages lock you up in this tower? Nu uh, sweetie, I'm not dealing with the dark forces of witchery when I'm already well off with the crown."

He got the crown.

Venti in Snow White

I'm sorry what? Free apples? Eternal sleep in a beautiful bed? He's gonna be glad to just take your place. (Spoilers, he would)

He'd be most definitely entertained with your dwarves, playing his tunes. You life would be filled with his lyre as he plays around, not even caring about the other implications of yours or his status in this woodland forest.

You ran away from home? Cool, freedom, man. Wish he could the same without jeopardizing the kingdom and his family. He'd probably take the apple too just for you~

During your rest, he'll come up with the most eloquent song to play for your seven dwarves as he watches your fate sadly. How peaceful you looked, away from the world and from the grips of death.

The dwarves would force him to please try and break the spell, and he'll shrug and indulge- except it didn't break the spell, as he expected it to be. And they are clueless on who else you had encountered in your life to even spare a true love's kiss.

"How saddening, the princess lays. Maddening to those around as they'd say, if only my kiss was enough for the curse to sway." You died, ouch.

Xiao in Mulan

Brutal. Brutal. Brutal. His voicelines would come in sooooo handy here, oh my goodness.

If you miraculously bypassed his analytical gaze enough to hide your sexuality, you're going to die in his training program. He's not gonna go easy on you, not when the fate of the nation lies upon your capability to keep up. You're gonna go through far worse than what true Mulan went through, and you may or may not just die in the process.

If by chance you survived, this would warrant enough respect to not kill you (oh, you lived) but you better not show up again.

He's never gonna be delighted to see your traitorous face again, he can save China on his own, thank you very much. And you know he can. Try and approach him, and a sword would be at your neck once again.

"Foolish gremlin, you think you had the right to present yourself after the treason you willfully committed? We won't crumble at the loss of one person, your job here is done." How sad.

Cyno in Little Mermaid

First of all, wack, mermaids exist! Sadly, that's nothing new for him. He knows a lot with that intelligent mind of his, so it would be no surprise that the existence of such mythical creatures doesn't make him bat an eyelash. He's been living near water, he's not that stupid.

With that in mind, your presence in your first meeting is going to be bad. Very bad. Cyno knows about sirens and he's not at all gonna fall for it, and if by chance he had known you before the ship was wrecked, he's probably gonna be veryyy keen in capturing you instead.

So if by chance you're stupid enough to interact with him and DESIRE to be on land with him, you're gonna deal with a lot of problems.

You're not getting that kiss easily. No, it's a huge challenge. He'd be repulsed in your naivety and will most likely be more concerned on your voice than ever. He'd be so kind to try and give a shot in helping with the cure but it's not the cure you needed.

He'll drown himself in every literature in full concentration just to see if there's any text he can find about curses and muteness. His curiousity would get the best of him, and you'll barely see him after you managed to explain your predicament without the need for words. Octopus woman doesn't even need to show up to intervene.

"A kiss? Surely not, such ailment won't be cured by fairytale methods." And then he goes back to his library once again. And you will be seafoam the next sunrise. Or was it sunset?

"So now that we've established these grounds," Exiled turns to the other two in the area, "Maybe, these boys would be better off as princesses."

And so the trio concocts a new type of fairytale, collaborated to masterpieces soon after.

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @struggljng @ellitx @kookieyachi @dandelion-dreams

[ryouverua]

Saimota is a fantastic ship that only improves with age and their respective maturity. Right from the get-go we see this in canon, too! They have a tumultuous first clash at the end of chapter 1 which is immediately turned on its head, and the subsequent growth and development of their in-game relationship really stands out that much more because of it.

This is a long one, so strap in!

Kaito realizes his mistake in his approach after punching him the night before and rectifies it immediately the next morning when he notices Shuichi hasn’t come to breakfast, rightly guessing that he’s stewing in his own grief and misery. And then, being the emotionally intelligent guy he is, he follows up that night and drags him out to exercise (which, y’know, releases endorphins and is scientifically proven to help with mood boosts and even depression) - a move which Shuichi says in chapter 5 saved his life.

A couple days pass and a body drops. Kaito supports him through the investigation knowing that Kaede had been with him last time and that there’s a danger of him relapsing. In the trial, too, Kaito makes every effort to let Shuichi know that he isn’t alone and someone does have his back if he fumbles. This is the real moment that Shuichi chooses to depend on Kaito and is rewarded for it, and while Kaito does get plenty of ego-feed out of it, he believes in Shuichi and his talent wholeheartedly (enough so that it’ll come back to bite him later). But despite it being framed as a ‘hero and sidekick’ relationship, it’s not just for Kaito’s self-worth - it’s to take some of the mental load off of Shuichi, who really, really doesn’t want the pressure of everyone’s lives solely on his shoulders, and is now dealing with the guilt of two cases where uncovering the guilty party hurt him.

(quick chapter 2 interlude! while this is where a lot of the big hero-worship begins for Shuichi and happens to be where I also did his first FTE and got to witness this:

this is also the chapter when these moments happen, post-breakfast and post-casino scene respectively:

and this happens in the very next FTE:

mmm yes, the duality of man. Suffice it to say, while Shuichi has definite rose-coloured glasses on for a lot of the game, Kaito is definitely not an invincible, untouchable hero in his eyes)

Interestingly enough, despite Shuichi still very much leaning into their friendship (and vice versa), they don’t spend a lot of time together in Chapter 3 after he brings Maki out to training that first night! While Chapter 4 is their real ‘break’, Kaito spends a lot of time in his room in the second half while Shuichi gets to know Maki better. And while Maki is a much, uh, meaner investigation partner (love you girl, but that tongue is sharp), they make a great team. Shuichi also starts poking at Kaito’s reason for holing up in his room, incorrectly guess that it’s just related to the occult being brought up. Most importantly, Shuichi is able to do an investigation on his own independent of Kaito just a week after the end of Chapter 1.

Chapter 4 and its immediate aftermath in 5 is great because it showcases Kaito’s flaws and insecurity, and what conflict between the two of them look like. It’s because Kaito respects Shuichi so much that cracks in his own confidence start appearing - and while Shuichi can be obtuse and awkward at times, he shows signs of wanting to broach some more sensitive topics with Kaito; if you do FTEs with Kaito in Ch 4, he even has an inner narrative in which he notes that Kaito had said his stomach hurt before.

He’s not so self-absorbed as to not worry about his friend (but narratively we gotta save that juicy plot point and subsequent reveal for the end of the trial) but hey, Kaito wants to chill and just shoot the shit - so why not have some downtime with his friend in the murder school. Btw, their FTE availability ends here - so if Shuichi has completed them with Kaito, he’s already had his canon-saimota thoughts at this point. While I have given Shuichi the side-eye for his ‘I can rely on Kaito for anything’ spiel, he is fully able and willing to stand up to Kaito in the Chapter 4 trial despite his canon feelings for him at that point. By the way, it’s been a week and a half since the end of Chapter 1 at this point. Shuichi and Kaito have had an arc together where they become fast friends in a pressure-cooker situation and bonding over shared grief for Kaede (even if Kaito’s is less obvious), Shuichi starts as dependent on Kaito’s emotional support but learns to stand on his own two feet, and Kaito is forced to confront his own weakness and hero persona, all while classmates are dropping (including Kaito’s own ex-hero figure, a stark reminder that ‘heroes’ do have flaws).

So the beginning of Chapter 5 is wild to me because of how it’s so often misinterpreted as Kaito immaturely giving Shuichi the silent treatment despite the entirety of the game preceding it explicitly showing that Kaito will tell you, loudly, when he’s angry at you, and that’s purely because we’re in Shuichi’s perspective and he thinks that’s what’s going on - but that’s a bit of a tangent. What I like about it is how we get to see what happens when Kaito (as sick as he is at that point) feels badly and embarrassed with someone he is close to; he withdraws as opposed to lashing out. And while Shuichi is really, really bad at reaching out too without an inciting incident (tunnel escape), he does try and broach the topic when push comes to shove. He’s not lost in hero worship, not even close - he is rightfully upset that the person he’s closest to at the school is upset while still maintaining to himself and the others that his actions were correct. He doesn’t waver on this, despite his attempt to offer an olive branch at the window of the hangar’s bathroom. He truly stands by his own choices in the last class trial and know he won't back down on that if push comes to shove, and that's important - he won't yield the point just to appease Kaito. Shuichi then manages the investigation on his own, leads the trial on his own, faces off with Maki (and who he thinks is Kokichi) on his own, because he has *reached* a point where he can be independent. And to bring it back to how we get a look at ‘saimota in conflict’, Shuichi and Kaito both make amends with each other by the end of the chapter. Even if it’s spurred by it being their final goodbye, Shuichi gets to say his piece, Kaito lays out one of his own vulnerabilities so he can make peace with Shuichi - and even if I’d love to have had them delve into all of Kaito's various issues, there is a very murderous robobear overseeing this which makes time a factor - and I firmly believe that if they had more time, they could’ve resolved even more of the issues that would come up for Saimota. The groundwork wasn’t just there; there was already half the structure in place. And that’s what makes saimota even more appealing to me, tbh. We get to see them build a relationship, run into a big issue, struggle through it and resolve it by the end of the game - and it means that there’s precedent for them to do it again as more interpersonal challenges come up! It’s a goldmine of ship exploration, and they care about each other enough to work through it.

… By the way, at this point they are 2 weeks past the end of Chapter 1.

Imagine if they had more time. Imagine if Shuichi, who is absolutely dogged in pursuing an issue once he catches wind of it (despite how he can get wrapped up in his own head), who cares a lot for other people, who doesn’t just find runaways as part of his detective talent, but follows up with them after because he cares about more than just finishing the job, had the chance to spend years with Kaito and realize he uses his hero persona to protect a much more fragile sense of self. Imagine Shuichi forming that initial friendship with Kaito without the albatross of Kaede’s death hanging around his neck; about how he’ll still look up to Kaito and his fantastic positivity, passion and excellence in his chosen field, and that would only be matched by Kaito’s own admiration of Shuichi’s skills as a detective. Imagine if Kaito, who repeatedly shows the ability to reflect and change his mind when presented with evidence against his viewpoint and was able to express his own insecurity and jealousy to Shuichi in the end, was given the breathing room and space to get more comfortable with doing so. Imagine how difficult and emotionally mature they were to navigate as well as they did in a life-or-death situation that took place over a couple of weeks tops, and how much more they could grow if given the time and space for it.

... And this was nearly going to be where I ended the post, until Ira reminded me of TDP and sent me this wonderful Saimota event (which takes place before the final graduation/training trio event):

Oh hey, Shuichi picked up his catchphrase! It's quite cute how he's finishing Kaito's sentence here - he's spent a couple of years being friends with Kaito at this point, and has even taken up exercising on his own for stress relief. I wonder whose influence that was?

Anyway -

Shuichi has figured out at this point that he does need to firmly extend that helping hand to Kaito rather than worry and keep it to himself. On the other side, Kaito has learned that it is okay to accept that outstretched hand, even if he doesn't need it right now - that he can admit that some day, he might. He's being blase, sure, but it is a far cry from his in-game 'I don't/won't need help'. Good for you, Kaito - you've grown a lot! And that's the most important thing their TDPs show - their capacity for growth not just as individuals, but in a relationship. Of course there will be bumps along the way - it’s very rare that any relationship won’t have them! - but they've proven that they can work these problems in the worst of circumstances. This is by far one of the strongest ships with canon foundation in the entire series, and my goodness do I still love it years later.

[happyvoidharmony]

Of jealousy and (weird) friendships

Found : FF.net AO3

It was when the red-haired smashed her second keg on the table, that the white-haired fully understood how fucked up she was.

Because there was no way she could walk out that pub on her feet now. Stupid Erza. Stupid town. Stupid her and her stupid ideas and stupidest master of all.

With all the respect she owed him, sometimes the man should really drown himself in his keg before being allowed to share his ideas out loud. And what idea. Making the two fifteen year-olds work together on a special job. And a month before the S-class exam. As if they didn’t have better things to do, as he had subtly hinted that he was considering them both as potential contestants, for the first year ever.

They only glanced at each other then. But Mirajane had noticed how hard her rival had clunched her teeth when she had realized her two extra years of training hadn’t been enough to distance herself from the demon mage.

It was funny. The way her cheeks got inflammed with growing irritation as the white-haired couldn’t help but let a thin cocky smirk grow from her lips, imagining the great joy that would fill her chest when she finally would get the occasion to wipe the floor with her stupid face in just a few weeks. After what she would have no other opportunity but to recognise who, exactly, was the most talented.

Like an early christmas present.

But her smile had quickly vanished, when the old man had announced his ambitious project of sending them both as a team to take care of especially aggressive monsters in the north. A very important request, he added, before the public discovered just how badly a mess the council was once again incapable of handling. Discretion was not as much needed as was efficiency, which would require professional teamwork, or to the very least, no fighting.

These words, though, had been more than enough to straighten the two girls who quickly resolved to this rule, or the consequences would only corroborate the Master’s doubts about their possible immaturity and cost them both their chances at getting selected for the trial.

And there was no way they were missing that opportunity. Given that with Guildarts constantly gone, it was really time someone climbed those stairs to make Laxus swallow back that infuriating smirk he wore, each time he established residence up there, just to remind everyone that no one could make him come down.

Fortunately, the job was dealt with quickly, as the master had predicted, although the two mages left a pretty big trace of their visit, but that wasn’t what truly mattered. No, what was important was that, somehow, they had found themselves behind schedule – Mirajane seemed to blame it on Erza for taking too much time getting useless papers signed by every jerk in a suit instead of taking off immediately – but the redhead was less inclined to see things from her perpective.

No, what was important was that they were officially done with the work, spending the night in some creepy hotel, in the same room. And that they only had one night left together before they could finally go back to insulting each other.

Hopefully.

If they ever survived drinking those enormous kegs.

It was Mirajane’s fault. She knew it very well when she saw the knight mage collapse on the table, looking at her own keg, wondering how she could ever drink it without throwing up her guts on the floor. Because she wasn’t giving up and handing Erza the satisfaction. No way. Even if it was entirely her own stupid fault for challenging her to a stupid drinking contest.

To be honest, she hadn’t thought the girl would take it so seriously. After all, she was supposed to be serious and responsible, a lightweight, to be frank. To be perfectly honest, the only thing she had ever seen her drink, other than water, was that stupid tea she made for herself on Sundays. So, why would the so-serious Erza ever accept that ridiculous contest ? And why on earth was she so freaking good at it ?

It was beyond understanding.

For two girls who seemed to have everything in common in terms of age, power, goal or even troubled past, they could not yet feel any more different. Everything about them felt like an insurmountable barrier that neither of them had the time, nor the will to overcome. And it wasn’t even about Mira’s horrible tendency to insult any person who would dare try to be too close to her, or Erza’s disconcerting habit to only ever refer to rules to explain her behavior.

That, they could get.

What they couldn’t come to terms with, was Mira’s flaming desire to get all the attention she could have at any given moment, wearing the shortest, darkest clothes and jewelery she could find or traumatising any poor lad who dared look at her too long. Or Erza’s revolting passion for anything that couldn’t turn into any kind of fun, like armours (because what was the fun in something if you couldn’t risk getting hurt), or even pastries.

Which was why the white-haired had almost fell down her her chair when her contest proposal had been accepted by her rival. Even if it was surely not because the redhead thought she could find any fun in it, but mostly because she didn’t feel like bearing Mirajane’s horrible smirk when she would have refused. Not tonight.

So here they were. Not even midnight, and already so drunk neither of them wanted to admit they only continued because they didn’t feel like walking out, and falling flat on their asses as soon as their feet would have reached the ground.

This felt like an even worse idea when Mira finally emptied her also second keg and evened out the competition, for both of their miseries. She tried getting up though, just to get to the bathroom, but instantly decided that staying here wasn’t that bad at all. If only for a few minutes.

“Are you keeping up ?” She asked the redhead then.

“Shut up.” Was the only answer she received.

She glanced at her, who seemed to have passed out flat on the table, at least she hoped, she still wanted to win, even if her own intestines wanted to crawl out of her body. She wondered how exactly she would find the strength to carry Erza back to their room if she had. Maybe that was the worst outcome of all. Not only was she surely going to empty her stomach all night long, but she was also going to break her knees to get her upstairs. That, or sleeping in the street.

If that wasn’t some serious karma backlash.

She couldn’t even get up, honestly. All her body felt like jelly. And it wasn’t even funny anymore. But then, nothing could ever be as funny as watching Erza beat up an entire ton of sailors on their off night.

Nothing.

Even the way her skirt swung around her legs was hilarious.

She also wondered how come she never thought of learning teleportation magic. How nice it would be to just appear in front of their room without climbing up the stairs one by one, or just to have gone home instantly, without being contrived to spend this last night together. How nice, indeed. She would have to learn it soon. After all, you never had too many magic skills. It would have to wait until she finished learning transformation magic though. She was getting better without a doubt, but she still couldn’t figure out how to change her clothes, the gap between the two levels was tricky.

She would have to train her acting skills as well, or there was no use in learning it at all. Maybe, if she could change her clothes, she could train in the guild, maybe impersonate a few other members and see if anyone noticed the treachery. Maybe if she got good enough, she could even get to the second floor in Laxus’ appearance, practice the frown he made with his ridiculously thick eyebrows, or that smirk everyone detested.

She tried to picture it in her mind, as she was lying on her bench, seeing clearly that none of them was getting up any time soon, but she wouldn’t call herself a winner, not when her stomach ached so bad. She tried to concentrate and ignore the terrible ruckus going on behind her. Only focused on picturing his blond hair and dark green eyes that sometimes seemed so black. His nose and lips. It was only when the portrait in her mind seemed terribly off that she recalled adding the scar on his eye. How odd to forget it, when it helt his whole face together.

She passed on to his body, desperately trying to remember what kind of clothes he usually wore and the exact look of his headphones. The shape of his arms seemed a bit too big in her mind, but it didn’t have to be a hundred percent exact in order to work, especially when his arms kept getting bigger every time she saw him, as well as his shoulders. Maybe she should get Elfman the name of his workout (he always complained about being too thin).

She opened her eyes finally, keeping that picture in her mind. It was incredibly accurate. As if the blond was indeed staring at her from above. She congratulated herself. It was perfect in every single detail. She even got those slight freckles just bellow his eyes, and that well defined nose of his, and the glint in his eyes and furrowed brow when he arrogantly waited on someone to say something. God. Even in her imagination he was infuriating. Now, if she could just gather her magic…

“You’re going to stare at me like a dumb doll for how long exactly ?”

She blinked. Slightly sure her imagination wasn’t supposed to bark back at her.

Oh shit…

“What the hell ?” She shrieked and sat up at the realisation.

“I could ask you the same question.” He pointed at Erza, still passed out on the table.

She stared at him then. He only sneered and stared back. Apparently this was greatly funny to him.

She was burning up, she could feel it on her face. Probably already looked like a tomato by now.

“What the hell are you doing here ?” She barked back, because there was no reason why he should be only the only one.

“Apparently, I’m interrupting girls’ night out.” He smirked. She wanted to punch him. But if she could find a way to spare his teeth… Just because he was utterly annoying didn’t mean the whole of his face had to be punished for it. “Or collective suicide, who can say ?”

He glanced at Erza again and she blushed even harder at her own foolishness. It was definitely ridiculous. She was getting uncomfortable, like the world was staring at her. Except it wasn’t the whole world. Only him. And even though nobody else seemed to give her any attention, it felt heavy. Heavy enough to make her crave a nice big sweater to put on her shoulders, so she wouldn’t feel so exposed and ridiculed.

She looked back up to him. He was still waiting, raising his eyebrows to make her understand he expected a reaction. But she didn’t give any, simply raised hers back, to signal she wasn’t grasping his presence here. But it didn’t seem to work. He only stared back. And they stayed there, for only a few moments but long enough for him to light a cigarette while waiting for an answer. But she wasn’t going to give in to him.

Until he exhaled his smoke back in her face. She hated that smell, loathed it, really. And he knew it very well, never missed an occasion to make her cough on it.

“I’m just passing here after a job.” He simply retorted at her angry looking stare. Even if she looked more loopy than threatening. He was pretty sure she wasn’t able to see clearly.

So very thorough, as usual. She only kept silent, just to make him understand that she was waiting for more.

If they didn’t look stupid right now. Just staring at each other, her clearly so very out of this world and him so very stuck in it.

He sighed first, he wanted to seem like he was the one making the effort, but she could frankly see how annoyed he truly was. That vein of his dangerously beating on his forehead.

“Where are you staying ?” He asked. And she almost choked on her own breath, not understanding the implications, or hoping she had misunderstood them, yes, that was it, because there was no way he could mean what she believed he meant in her state. She probably looked like shit, like a trash bag on the street.

“Why do you want to know ?” She had meant it calm, but it came out way too startled and out of breath, and she was still reddening, if that was possible.

“To know if I have to chance to get you both back without completely ruining my night.” He meant to lighten the mood but she got even more furious. One more and she was going to explode. He just felt it.

“What would you want to get us back, huh ?” She meant to stand up and stare at him, if her legs hadn’t been so weak. Because the only more humiliating thing that could happen right now, was definitely falling off that bench in front of him. She’d rather die on it, litterally.

He mocked her, only smirked and responded in his most condescending tone.

“Because, if the old man hears that I saw his two little favorites dead drunk here and didn’t do anything to, at least, get you to bed…” He took a long puff, just to make her wait a bit more. “He’s definitely going to banish me.”

She didn’t know why she got so enraged, but something boiled inside her. Like he had just lighted a match in her very soul. Maybe it was the “get you to bed” that she couldn’t swallow, that he would feel so superior to refer about them as mere children when they were on the verge to overthrow him fom his beloved throne. It was almost cute, that he would feel so threatened by them, almost admitting he knew one of them would join him soon (most likely her, of course). But something deep down still wanted to make him eat the mud with her words, and so she spoke.

“Don’t worry, Laxy.” She mischieviously smirked. “You’ll always be the favorite. Not that you’ll ever have to work for it.”

She knew she had hit the jackpot when his eyes widened up, and his cheeks reddened from anger. She knew she had gotten under his skin, and quite easily. She was also probably going to die in hell but the wave of satisfaction that hit her on that very moment was just so… awesome, she immediately knew she would have hit him again like that a thousand times, if only she had known other places where to punch. Because it was one of the only things she knew about him, that he loathed being reduced to his relationship with the old man.

And she feasted on it.

At least until she realised she had signed the death of her night off, as there was no way he was going to let her run free after that.

She didn’t even try to argue with him when he told her to go settle the bill. She wanted to protest, make him understand she wouldn’t be taking responsibility for Erza’s part, but his glare let very little place for accommodation. She should only be thankful her legs allowed her to make the trip. So she paid the whole thing at the counter, hoping she would remember how much the redhead owed her and didn’t even comment the way he had grabbed Erza by the knees and neck, when she joined him.

He didn’t say a word while following her through the streets, didn’t ask how far away was the hotel, didn’t try to help her once, when she almost tripped over her own feet almost a dosen times. He didn’t even complain over the number of stairs to climb, nor over the number of times she missed a step and had to grab the handrail, or even his arm to avoid falling on her face. Only asked her to open the door when she stopped in front of it, as his arms were already too full.

When she found the key and finally managed to swing the door open, he didn’t add anything, simply laid down the redhead on one of the twin beds (how he guessed which one was hers, she couldn’t figure out), still deeply asleep, and made a sign to tell her to take off her shoes (probably thought it was more appropriate if she was the one to do it). She took her socks and armour off as well, but didn’t go further as she knew Erza always kept her pajamas in her reequip space. Even if it was incredibly stupid and useless.

She slid the cover over her shoulders, and then decided she was done taking care of her for tonight. She worked next on taking her boots off, and it wasn’t easy, never had been, while the blond seemed to take a break in the bathroom. When he got out, she had managed to bare her foot and let her hair down. She glanced at him, hoping a glimpse of forgiveness in his eyes. She wanted to say thank you as well, but the words seemed to stay stuck on her tongue.

He barely looked back at her, probably very annoyed at having to take care of the two fifteen year-olds on his night off in town rather than angry with her. She didn’t know if it was supposed to make her feel better or not. Finally, he went to the door and mumbled something about her not getting out before the morning, or maybe about not letting Erza choke on her puke if she woke up, she didn’t really listen, only watched him disappear behind the door. Feeling quite fazed and alone.

She should have just stayed here. She should have changed and gone to bed immediately, followed the redhead’s example. She definitely should have. But there was something deep inside her that couldn’t help wondering, that was just too curious to be shut down. Something she should have buried even deeper, and never listened to again.

Maybe it was the intoxication. Maybe it was his sudden apparition in that exact bar where they had been. Which was, now that her mind was getting slightly clearer, completely inexplicable. What were the odds of him, finding them in the back of a dark bar, in a miserable town, a day or two away from their town ? It was incomprehensible, impossible. He was hiding something. She was sure of it. And she needed to find out what.

She should have stayed right where she was, on the bed next to Erza’s, in this room of this sketchy hotel they had found.

But she didn’t. Instead, she grabbed her boots again, and got them on her feet in a second. She had to hurry, or he would be too far away from the building and she had no hope of finding him. She also grabbed one of her sweaters, she was one to never shy away from a crop-top but the weather was just too chilly now to do without, even with the alcohol warming her from inside.

She went out as quickly as she could, barely even glanced at the redhead wriggling in her sheets, and dashed down the stairs. How much time had passed between now and the moment he left, she did not know. Her head was too fuzzy to keep track of time, but it couldn’t be that long. But what if he had transformed into lightning, and was now already a few hours away ? She had seen him doing that once, it was quite scary and terribly effective. What if he was already out of town ? What if he was only a few minutes away, but, since she took the wrong way, she could run all she wanted, it would be useless.

And just when she was about to give up, sweaty and lightheaded in the middle of the street, barely able to catch her breath, probably looking like a psycho with her high boots, messy hair and distressed expression, when she lost all hope of finding him and finally made up her mind to go back and try to get some sleep, despite the horrible nausea, she saw him. All blond hair, scar and messy eyebrows of him.

She almost shrieked again at the sight, and from the clouded corners of her mind, something ordered her to hide. And, so she did. In an adjacent dark street of the one she was on. She hid like a child scared to get discovered by a parent, and blushed, almost immediately, at the stupidity of her behaviour. What was he going to do if he found her ? Scold her ? The hell he was… She could do whatever the hell she wanted. So, why was she hiding exactly ?

She knew it was idiotic, and maybe childish, but something screamed inside her to stay hidden. And for some reason, she listened to it. Waited a few seconds and then glanced accross the street. He was still there, talking to some guy she had never seen in her life, probably one of the friends he had made between two jobs. He hadn’t noticed her, or at least if he did, he didn’t show any signs of knowing she was only a few steps away. His back was facing her now, and he never even glanced in her direction.

She took a few moments to take a deep breath, still feeling quite lightheaded at her stupid behaviour, but now that she had found him, there was something so enthralling about it. Stalking him when he always seemed so sure no one ever could. She didn’t know what gave him such a confidence, but strangely she have never found a way to follow him more than a few minutes without him catching on (back when she was even more stupid and childish and, honestly, a bit bored with her siblings). And she was a great stalker, the greatest, no one on her jobs ever caught up on her tailing them. No one except him.

It gave her quite a rush. Even more so, when she realised that, if she managed to tail him a bit more, she might be able to dig up some things, some very interesting things that could be of extremely good use when he would try to intimidate her. And just like that, her mind was made up. She was going to follow him, and discover what exactly it was that he did during so many weeks away from the guild.

But where was he exactly, now ?

She jumped again from her hiding spot. She had been daydreaming for so long, he had managed to slip away from her sight, and from the multiple streets that started from this one, there was no telling which one he might have taken. Such an idiot. How did she manage to lose a boy so tall and light, you could spot him a mile away ? Maybe her stalking skills were a bit blurred by her intoxication…

She ignored the gut feeling that told her to turn around and go back to where she came from. She chose one of the streets at random, thinking that the abundance of bars in that one had maybe lured him in. She walked hastely through the crowd gathered in front of the stores, barely making her way even when people moved aside fom her crazy-looking sight. She watched carefully every man that was about his height, noticing nothing of his blond hair or piercing gaze.

She walked for what seemed like an eternity to her. But, as she was slowly starting to lose hope of finding him again, she felt it.

It was heavy, the sky was clear, so it couldn’t be a real storm, but she could feel it on her skin. His magic did that sometimes, it thickened the atmosphere and announced his presence near. It was like a wave washing over you. She couldn’t even believe she hadn’t noticed it in the bar just before. Just how wasted had she been ? She hid slightly, and her blue eyes searched her surroundings. There was no mistake, he was here. But not behind her, not on the roof (he did that sometimes when he needed some air), and certainly not on this street. So, where the hell was he ?

She didn’t know what was most embarrassing. Her distressed look in the middle of the street, the fact that it took her several minutes to finally see him through the vitrine just across from her, or that he had been watching her for obviously way longer.

She froze as soon as her pupils met his cold stare, afraid to move a mucle. He was at one of the bar’s tables. Talking to some girl whose face she could not see. Not staring, she discovered, but rather glancing at her without breaking what was obviously a very passionate conversation (on the girl’s side at least).

He didn’t even seemed to be too surprised, didn’t flinch and barely twitched an eyebrow. If she hadn’t known him like she did, she wouldn’t have thought he had really noticed. But she knew he did. And he knew she did. And although she thought he would get angry at her for running away from the place she was supposed to spend the night in, he didn’t show anything.

It was only after a minute or two, that felt like an eternity to her, that she gave up on getting a reaction from him and walked back to the square slowly. Trying to make sense of the whole situation. She didn’t know the girl. Never had once seen her. She wasn’t from a guild, she didn’t look like a mage, that she was sure of. She knew it was stupid but she didn’t have the strength to go back now. She almost collapsed on a bench and stared without seeing, her alcoholised body still trying to sort her mind.

The square was loud. It wasn’t probably too late. Lots of young people were partying outside and made a ruckus giving her the worse headache. She felt number than before. She hated that feeling. She felt so risible, so much like a little girl. She hated it. She hated the way he had just ignored her, which was weird because a few moments ago, she would have hated him scolding her like a damn kid but the way he had gazed over her without a hint of recollection made it even worse.

It was too loud. She hated this square and especially the people in it. She hated everything and she hated hating it because she was so terribly afraid of what it meant. She hated feeling so insignificant. And she hated that girl, whatever her name was. She hated Erza for making her stop in this town and make her drink so much. She hated her fucking pride that didn’t allow her to stop even though she knew it was way too much. She hated him and his fucking ego, his superior demeanor and his stupid face. She hated herself for not listening to her gut, and she hated herself for not listening to it enough.

Her head hurt.

She hated everything.

Him, especially.

But she didn’t want to admit it. Because she shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t get angry so much over nothing. It was the alcohol, there was no other explanation. Or maybe there was another, but she really didn’t want to say it, not even in her mind. There was nothing she could say to him, that wouldn’t make her feel utterly stupid. Nor was there something she could do, or tell herself, to make her feel slightly better.

She felt numb. She wanted to go home. Not to that stupid hotel, next to stupid Erza. She wanted to get back to her house, in her bed and warm covers. She wanted to forget everything that had happened tonight, or maybe hide behind a pillar for the rest of her life so the shame of it wouldn’t follow her.

Her feet felt weak, but she didn’t care that much. Her head felt way too heavy for her body, but she had no choice but to raise it as she walked slowly. Her back hurt too, and for no earthly reason. Her stomach still felt terrible. Everything about her hurt when she finally reached the door of her room again, and was welcomed by the now comforting silence only troubled by the slow whisper of her teammate’s breathing.

When she collapsed on her bed again, after getting rid of her boots and short, leaving only her tank top, sweater and underwear, she doved under the covers and tried to regulate her way too disturbed one. Her cheeks damped the sheets and she wondered since when she had been crying. But, as she was succeeding to calm down, the voice of the redhead rose scarcely.

“Mira ?” She called solftly, to which the white heared only sniffed. “Are you crying ?”

Her heart stopped. She thought she had been sleeping the whole time, but she had been listening to her sob for several minutes already.

“No.” She tried to sound convincing, but her voice was still trembling like crazy.

“Oh, okay.” She was too sleepy to insist, not that she cared that much. But still.

Silence again. And just when the white haired relaxed and felt like she was about to doze off, her sleepy voice rose again.

“Did you just get back or something ?”

Her heart started beating way too fast. Maybe she could tell her. How stupid and foolish she had been, how much she hated herself. Maybe she would even forget it in the morrow, and they could just move on. Or maybe, she would remember, wouldn’t laugh at her, and it would be fine. Maybe she could tell her, and it would feel good, to tell someone how miserable she was feeling at that very moment, how miserable she felt around him, and so good at other times. How her heart couldn’t stop rushing every time, but how she very hated the feeling and didn’t know how to get rid of it.

Maybe she could tell her. And for one night, she would have a friend that understood her.

But it was still Erza. And something was just too… Huh.

Weird.

“No.” She sounded a little bit angry. The redhead collapsed again on her bed, giving up for good. “Now, shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”

And she really was.

[agent-cupcake]

You know, you've written a lot of your thoughts/hcs/etc on how various characters would behave as yanderes and so on, but I've never seen you talk about yandere readers before and I feel like that's an interesting subject to consider? Especially for 3H - you have a treasure trove of damaged boys to attract obsessiveness from girls who are convinced they are the ONLY one for them and it's their duty to drive away competition/threats/anyone they want.

Okay it's time to be toxic. I’m not going to go for all the guys, just the ones who immediately came to mind.

Dimitri: I joke quite often that I would be yandere for Dimitri. It all started when I brought up killing the girl he danced with at the White Heron Ball and quite frankly it's only spiraled from there because doesn't the Savior King Dimitri deserve to be adored and worshipped? Doesn't he deserve someone who wants the best for him and only him? Doesn’t it only make sense for him to be with someone who understands his mental issues and is willing to offer him unconditional support and patience? Doesn't he need someone with unwavering loyalty who will do anything no matter what the cost for his sake? It'd be so easy too because he's super dependent, desperate for affection, and clueless so if you just nourish those traits and constantly downplay his discomfort/suspicion of you driving away anybody who you feel is a threat by saying that this is how relationships just are, that it's just because you love him so much, that you're just looking out for him, what's he gonna do? It's not like he'd have any solid basis for knowing how relationships are supposed to be. Besides if he gets too upset you can threaten to leave him just like his mother did, I'm sure that would work to get him back in your arms (where he belongs). Yeah, that’s a little fucked up but it would be so much worse for both of you in the long run if you were apart. Being too aggressive or overt about your obsession would definitely make Dimitri wise up so it'd be better to go with love bombing. This would be good because it really lets you prove your devotion to Dimitri and makes it easier for him to just laugh off and excuse your disturbingly possessive behavior. His friends would be potentially problematic, but they're not always around and Dimitri's private enough that he probably wouldn't volunteer information about you to them. If you told him that it made you very upset and uncomfortable when he was friendly with the girls from his class, he’d most likely stop for your sake. Bonus round, have his babies. What is he going to do, abandon the mother of his children? Dimitri?!? No way. Of course he wouldn’t do anything to risk breaking his family, but neither would you! After all, this is all because you know Dimitri better than anyone which means that only you can love him.

Sylvain: Sylvain being manipulative and cheating on you after you try and prove your love to him through conventional means causing you to snap and kill hurt the girls, throw his lies back in his face, and prove that you're the only girl for him by preying on his emotional trauma with women is really something to consider. Why try to resolve toxic situations with love, compassion, and open communication when you can use blood and abuse to keep him with you? Play the part, be snarky, witty, flirty, be super hot and cold to keep him intrigued, give him the best fuck he's ever had, really show him that you don't care about his Crest, you just want to love possess him. Maybe even do the whole "I don't care who you're with, we both know you belong to me" to really engage him in those super fun mind games. Make everyone else acknowledge that you're the perfect girl for him, get them all to vilify him for continuing to be such a womanizer and breaking your heart. But, like, why stop there? Encourage him to retaliate, to be mad at you. Tease him for being so disgusted and angry at you when all you want, all you've ever wanted, was for your hearts to beat as one and then later act confused because of course you wouldn’t make light of his feelings like that, that’s horrible. All you want, all you’ve ever wanted, was for him to acknowledge that your adoration for him is true. Really break him until he gives you the whole “I’ll let you chain me up so I never even look at another girl” schtick. This might seem awful, but so is he! Reform can be difficult and if he’s going to be happy, he has to be made to understand why his behavior was so bad and the consequences of it. Because it’s not like you’d act like this if you had any other choice, it’s not like you’d continue once the two of you were truly together, of course you wouldn’t treat him so cruelly once he vowed himself to you and only you. And, really, I think it’d be a lot easier once he understood that and you got to prove your love to him through raw, unadulterated affection. Spend every day adding onto the list of why you love your Sylvain. 

Claude: Claude being more than aware of the ole' saying "don't stick your dick in crazy" and then doing it anyway because he has a proclivity for the fiery, forbidden, and oh-so temping call of danger would be the perfect set up for a very bad predicament. You’d have to play some mind games to really convince him that he’s the one seeking you out, he’s the one who’s got it bad, he’s the one who wants to have you. In other words, you’d have to give him a challenge. But, you know, if it’s a game, you’d have to play back because you’re doing this for him, because you love him, because you want him to realize that he loves you, too (Uno reverse Claude’s yandere behaviors, basically) so obviously you’d have to eliminate any obstacles and taking out anybody who could be a potential threat. Get him to open up about his dreams, his past, his feelings. As it goes with basically all of these affection-starved men, make him feel loved for who he is. You know, if you were really good, you could probably even get him to give up on everything else for your sake. I mean, I loathe the ending but he does that for Lysithea. Pull a Tangled on Claude and make him believe that you’re his new dream as he mostly certainly is yours.

Felix: Sweet Felix. So oblivious but so difficult. A man who would provide the ultimate and most dangerous yan rival of them all: the thrill of the fight. In a lot of ways, I think he’d be like Dimitri. Mostly just because he’s so dense when it comes to love of any kind. But he’s also not as emotionally desperate or dependent so you wouldn’t really be able to use that against him. The similarities come from Felix’s equal amount of inexperience with romance which opens up a lot of possibilities for you convincing him that certain behaviors are normal. You can even bring up how his cold emotional state (something I believe he’s insecure about) is what forces you to be so overbearing, how badly it hurts you.  You don’t necessarily mean to be so cloying but you’re so afraid of losing someone else you love so much (another insecurity of his). After all, there is nobody in the entire world who is like him, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, (three for three with his insecurities) and how irreplaceable and precious he is to you. These examples are kind of “soft” when it comes to using his insecurities against him, but you could go further with them assuming you were sure that it wouldn’t drive him away. Not knowing and having to work on assumption would always be a pretty big reason to control yourself in how you went about manipulating him because Felix is stubborn and prideful and pushing him too far would only hurt the both of you. It’s actually kind of funny because as opposed to the traditional yan mindset, it would be in your best interest to get Felix to form relationship bonds with others (but definitely not any of the girls he’s so popular with) because that would be a bargaining chip when convincing him to stay with you.

Ferdinand von Aegir: Ferdinand is, honestly, so easy for this. Like, I feel as if I don’t even need to talk about the details. You show him some affection and he’s yours. Bury him in love and praise. Tell him that it makes you unhappy when he talks to other girls or prioritizes his work over you and then reward him with boundless warmth and devotion because of course he would bend over backwards to make you happy. He just wants to be needed and treasured, to love and be loved. He’s already got the poetry and the ring and of course he wouldn’t mind getting married right away it’s true love, why would you wait?

Yuri: Yuribird is the forbidden darling. You’d need to be running on 100% love because he’d sniff out and ditch you at even the smallest whiff of deliberate obsession. But you know what he wants? More-so than the other guys, in some ways. He wants to be known and loved for who he is. In the face of genuine affection, he doesn’t stand a chance. Still, you’d have to be measured about this stuff. If you were jealous and got rid of your rivals yourself, Yuri would be disgusted and leave you. And you can’t hide that sort of thing from him, either. You’d have to go all in on the manipulation but only in the most honest way possible, that’s the only way past his defenses. Get him to prioritize your feelings first so he feels guilty talking to people or acting in ways that upset you. Reward him for putting you above everyone else. Constantly remind him that you’re the only one who knows and understands him, who loves him for who he is. Get him so emotionally fucked that even if his big brain logic is telling him that you’re toxic and horrible, he can’t stand the thought of being without you. He’d give up crime, it’s not like he even particularly likes it. Set up the perfect life for him, something domestic and sweet and warm, something he’s never had worries he doesn’t deserve, something that keeps him away from others. The goddess only knows how much he deserves a happy dream for once, and you’re the only one who can understand and provide that for him.

[my-bated-breath]

Wants vs Need - A Comparison Between Kataang, Taang, and Zutara

A common source of conflict and theme developments within stories stems from the idea of Want vs Need, which effectively describes the difference in substance between ships like Kata/ang and ships like Zutara and Taang.

As so many meta have analyzed before, Kata/ang, as a relationship, places the emotional burden on Katara. More specifically, it forces her to be responsible for Aang’s happiness and well-being when he barely acknowledges Katara’s inner conflicts or desires. Even more than that, Katara is the embodiment of everything Aang believes he wants (compassion, kindness, peace) when refuses to see the more human parts of Katara (anger, grief, force), all of which I dissect in “On Ideals and Idealization.” Thus, rather than embracing the nuance in the divide between past and present, between war and peace, between justice and revenge, Aang stubbornly clings onto his perception of the Air Nomads’ beliefs - beliefs that he only shallowly understands.

The show itself even sets up a Want vs Need conflict for Aang in “The Guru” when he has to choose to let go of his selfish attachment of Katara to master the Avatar State, which can be interpreted to represent his need to let go of his blinding biases so that he can see the world’s truths and understand his responsibility to it (expanded upon in this ask).

It’s true that in the episodes “The Desert” and “The Serpent’s Pass” Katara and Aang find themselves in a state of conflict, but it is resolved in a way that only shallowly emulates a Want vs Need story. In both, Katara’s compassion serves as an anchor for Aang when his anger and grief threatens to overwhelm him, allowing him to remain hopeful even while Appa, his last living tether to the Air Nomads, is missing. These two episodes encapsulate Aang’s struggle as an Air Nomad as it shows him struggling to come to terms with the Air Nomad’s disappearance (symbolized by Appa’s disappearance) by recognizing the potential for a cultural revival (symbolized by Hope’s birth). However, Aang’s identity as an airbender in a world that has forgotten the Air Nomads is never fully realized, and so the effects of this conflict resolution never manifest in his character - Aang at the end of the series finale is not much wiser than Aang at “The Desert”/”The Serpent’s Pass,” so Katara’s role is reduced from the catalyst in extending Aang’s worldviews to someone who calms him down during a wrathful relapse of his usually sunshine-smiley self.

As for Katara herself? Her relationship with Aang pigeonholes her into one facet of her character - her kind and loving side - which is regressive rather than progressive in her series-wide character arc. In her confrontation against the Northern Water Tribe’s sexist norms, against Hama and the legacy of bloodbending, and against her mother’s killer and the implications of Fire Nation imperialism, Aang’s personal beliefs do not influence Katara’s in any constructive way. The most Aang ever provides to Katara as himself is a vehicle to achieve her goals, as his Avatar status allows her to travel the world with him. And so Katara fosters her agency and autonomy, expands her role in the world, and validates the importance of her feelings - all for what? For the last ten minutes of the finale to turn a light switch on her feelings for Aang and have them kiss without even a conversation beforehand.

Kata/aang is all about want. But Taang and Zutara are all about need.

Character conflict is not always necessary to write a compelling romance, and focusing solely on generating conflict often leads to the badly written melodrama and misunderstandings that often plague the romance genre today. So rather than focus on creating interest based on drama, the most captivating fictional relationships I’ve seen show how characters support each other’s needs over their wants.

The initial conflict between Toph and Aang delves into the essence of their characters and forces them to grow out of a stagnant viewpoint. From Toph’s introduction in “The Blind Bandit,” Aang and Toph clash because Aang wants Toph as an earthbending teacher while Toph doesn’t want to upset the delicate balance of her double life. But in his persistence, Aang has broken both the illusion of the unshakable Earth Rumbler and the fragile noblewoman to uncover the true Toph that exists in the space between her two identities. Unsurprisingly, Toph’s determination in upholding her current life is reflective of the element she bends and the downfalls of an earthbender’s philosophy - determination can become rigid and stagnant. So though she claims she doesn’t want Aang interfering in her life, underneath all her stubbornness lies a need for freedom, and fittingly enough, it is Aang who recognizes this and grants it to her. Aang is much more than a vehicle in this case - he’s the one who changes Toph’s mind.

More obviously, in the episode “Hard Work,” Aang and Toph reach an impasse again as Aang struggles both with learning earthbending and with working with his earthbending master. It’s quite telling that Katara’s suggestion - to be gentle and encouraging with Aang - is regressive to Aang’s progress while portraying Katara’s personality rather one dimensionally. In other words, she gives into Aang’s wants. What he needs, however, is as Toph says: to face his problems head on. So she forces Aang to solve his problems not the way he wants to solve it - with evasion and clever-thinking - but the way he needs to solve it - only then is he able to master earthbending.

While Toph and Aang have a significant impact on each other within the second season, Zuko and Katara’s complementary stories span the entire series. As I’ve said (too many times) before, Zuko and Katara are pivotal to each other’s character arcs while remaining autonomous from one another. Although Iroh’s influence on Zuko’s redemption cannot be emphasized enough, Katara’s offer to heal Zuko in the Crystal Catacombs holds the most symbolic weight in the series, especially because it is an offer extended by a formerly irreconcilable enemy. Beyond his desire to please his father and beyond his former attempts to capture Aang, through common ground Katara is able to recognize the need for Zuko to move on and a chance for him to redeem himself. Katara plants a seed of doubt in his mind, as well as elicits a small spark of hope within him. Then, after changing sides, Zuko wants to belong with the Gaang, but Katara affirms that he first needs to accept the responsibility of his legacy and to prove that he will make amends.

As for Katara, Zuko represents the possibility of peace between the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes, which is first realized in the Crystal Catacombs. Then, in the Southern Raiders, Katara wants to hold onto her resentment against Zuko and the Fire Nation, but what Zuko recognizes is that she needs to find closure over her mother’s death.

What is truly incredible is that their importance to each other does not diminish with their conflict - outside his uncle’s tent the night before Sozin’s Comet, it is Katara who recognizes what Zuko needs to hear (that he has earned his forgiveness) before he can chase after what he wants (to reunite with Iroh). Zuko and Katara clearly have an impact on each other’s character arcs, and by recognizing each other’s needs under a facade of wants, they demonstrate bone-deep compatibility and understanding.

So, once again - Kata/ang’s conflicts are destructive, but Taang and Zutara’s conflicts are constructive. Kata/ang never challenge each other, but Taang and Zutara do. Kata/aang is all about want, but Taang and Zutara are all about need.

[jackoshadows]

One of the things that totally baffles and frustrates me in the asoiaf fandom is the fanon that Sansa is smarter and more diplomatic than Jon and Dany.

How can anyone read the books and come to the conclusion that Sansa is more diplomatic than Jon and Dany? On what basis is this comparison made? Jon and Dany are military leaders and rulers respectively who have successfully negotiated from disadvantaged positions. What is the equivalent of this for Sansa?

These are the issues that Dany faced in Meereen -  olive trees burned down, winter on the horizon making agriculture disadvantageous, former merchants and slaves with no money and a blockade on Meereen by surrounding regions. Jon has 19 decrepit castles on the wall that he has to refit and rebuild and get ready and he has no money, food or men to do this. What is Sansa’s more smarter and diplomatic tactics to deal with these issues?

What is his tax policy? How does he feel about crop rotation? How does he handle land disputes between two nobles, both of whom think that they should have the village, so they burn it down to establish their claim. This is the hard part of ruling be it in the middle ages or now. It’s not enough to be a good man to be an effective ruler. It’s complicated and it’s hard and I wanted to show that with repeated examples in my books with my kings and hand of the kings - the prime minister if you would - trying to rule. And whether it be Ned Stark or Tyrion Lannister or Tywin Lannister or Daenerys Targaryen or Cersei Lannister trying to deal with the real challenges that affect anyone trying to rule the 7K or even a city like Meereen and it’s hard. You know, we can all read the books or read history and say oh, so and so was stupid and made a lot of mistakes and look at all these stupid mistakes they make. But these kind of mistakes are always much more apparent in hind sight than when you are actually faced with the decision about, oh my God, what would I do in this situation. How do I resolve this thing? Do I do the moral thing? But what about  the political consequences of the moral thing? Do I do the pragmatic, cynical thing and kind of screw the people who are screwed by it? I mean, it is HARD. And I want to get to all of that - GRRM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJCb3xyWyAg

Where has Sansa dealt with the above issues to make a determination on how she would do better than Dany? Or even do better than Cersei for that matter?

Here is GRRM talking about how frustrating it is that he was not able to compare Daenerys and Cersei as rulers in ADWD:

His biggest lament in splitting A Feast for Crows from A Dance with Dragons is the parallels he was drawing between Cersei and Daenerys.  

Cersei and Daenerys are intended as parallel characters --each exploring  a different approach to how a woman would rule in a male dominated,  medieval-inspired fantasy world.

GRRM, SSM,  July 08, 2007  

George regrets that Cersei and Dany will not be contrasted directly.   He likes the extra breathing room to flesh out the characters. Bran  didn't have any chapters and Dany's ending was different. Now he likes  the way she ended. I think he actually may be doing more with Dany.  

Comic-Con (San Diego, CA; July 20-23)

Where has he talked about contrasting Dany and Sansa? Or Sansa and Cersei? Where are the parallel leadership arcs for Dany and Sansa or Jon and Sansa like there is for Jon and Dany in ADwD?

Jon Snow has negotiated a loan with the Iron Bank, Dany agrees for peace with Yunkai by marriage with Hizdahr and Sansa managed to persuade an eight year old to eat his dinner. How are they even compared at the same level?!

It took an entire book and Ned Stark losing his head for Sansa to realize that the Lannisters were not the good guys. Despite the Lannisters doing increasingly evil things like ordering Sansa’s pet wolf killed. Her younger siblings like Arya cottoned onto that in their first chapters. Sansa then thought that beautiful, charming Margaery was simply the best and the Tyrells ended up using her. She thought Dontos was a good guy. In the Vale, she is pushing the Maester to do what LF wants with respect to SweetRobin. How is she smarter than Jon, Dany or the rest of her siblings? It’s this weird changing of canon in the completely opposite direction. Take the least smart character among the youngsters in the books and make them the smartest in fanon.

I know the show is responsible a lot for pushing this piece of fanon, when Benioff, Weiss and Cogman stripped book Jon and Dany of their leadership arcs and tried to hand them off to Sansa to prop up their favorite character.

But what’s baffling is the so called asoiaf book experts writing about stupid Jon and smart Sansa. About psychopathic assassin murder baby Arya and clever, measured leader Sansa, about ignorant, impulsive Dany and calm, compassionate, hope for the future Sansa. The thing is, no one knows on what basis and metrics they come to this conclusion. It just is. There are no detailed essays comparing Jon and Sansa’s leadership arcs, or Dany and Sansa’s arc of being rulers. But Sansa is still somehow more intelligent and diplomatic.

It’s also connected to this rather sexist strand of thought that only women who wield soft power are smart and level-headed. Tyrion is the only male character allowed to be smart and women who wield hard power like Dany or gnc characters like Arya and Brienne are impulsive, arrogant and ignorant.

In some ways I can see why this has happened. A lot of fandom want Sansa to be special in some way and have an important role to play. And since her narrative story arc is with Littlefinger, she is assigned to be the SMART one. But to be special, she has to be the only smart character.

Plus, Sansa has progressed the least in her arc compared to her peers. She’s a blank slate on whom her fans can project their desires and wishes for her character. The show did something similar - only D&D were too lazy to come up with something original and gave her Jeyne Poole’s story.

But still, there has to be a basis for such statements about the book characters.  It’s not just enough to keep repeating that Sansa is the smartest ever - like ultimate hacks D&D did on the badly written garbage show did. They were rightly laughed at for their ‘Sansa is the cleverest person’ dialogue. But for some reason such statements are accepted for the book version.

The books are well written with gradual character development. Surely, if Sansa is smarter than Jon and Dany we should read that in the books? That this fanon has literally become canon despite not having any basis at all in the books is one of the most frustrating aspects of asoiaf fandom.

[queenangst]

I know you have a lot of prompts already but: UA student Izuku discovers he has (a version of) AFO (the quirk) and freaks out.

for my 30 min fic challenge / read more: ‘30 min fics’ tag

replicate [read on AO3]

The first thing Izuku made with Momo’s Quirk was a replica of the Golden Age All Might figurine he saved up for and bought himself when he was seven.

That was how he knew it was Momo’s Quirk. No other Quirk could quite have given him the power it did; and he chose the figurine because he remembered each piece of it, each layer of carefully-applied paint, every detail.

Afterwards, Izuku held the figurine in his hands.

He wasn’t sure he could do it. He wasn’t sure he had Creation.

But now Izuku was sure of both.

In his room, lit only by a slit of light where the curtains didn’t meet and so allowed the sun to peer through, Izuku pulled the All Might figurine close to him. It looked real. It looked exactly as he remembered. Yet Izuku knew it wasn't the same.

The old figurine had accidentally been broken when Izuku was fourteen, the same year he’d met the real All Might. Looking at the polished paint and the wide smile, all his strength sapped away. The plastic creaked as his knees gave out from under him, and Izuku gasped.

He hadn’t told All Might yet. He couldn’t, at least not until he was sure; now he was sure, he still couldn’t, because the knowledge of what power Izuku held was the same as his greatest enemy.

Izuku began to get his things.

Not pack—he wasn’t running away, but he was leaving. He shoved his phone in his pocket, checking to make sure it was charged, and his wallet; his set of keys; and his fear.

Then he went to the bathroom, peering into his reflection for a moment. Just to see. His soft face, his freckles; his eyes, the slope of his nose; the curl of his hair, his smile. So much of that was Mom’s. But he also imagined in his mind, the same features overlaid on All for One’s face, and the thought scared him, that it might be true.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei said when Izuku went to him—he couldn’t see All Might, not now. “You know visits need to be approved in advance. There’s paperwork. The system exists to keep you safe.”

“Please,” Izuku begged. “It’s—a family emergency.”

It was, sort of. Aizawa-sensei studied him for a moment, unreadable. Perhaps he sensed that a family emergency wasn’t the whole truth. Perhaps he sensed there was something broken in Izuku; or not broken, but more. More than should exist in a single person.

“Alright, Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei said finally, and let him go home.

Mom was there. He hadn’t stopped to think about what would happen if she wasn’t—he’d wait alone at the kitchen table, circling his thoughts, or he’d go tearing through their shared apartment looking for anything that could be considered an answer. When he unlocked the front door and threw the door open with more force than he should have.

He saw Mom, and his resolve almost crumbled. She had a comfortable set of clothes on. Her hair was tied back in a bun. She was so much the person who had raised him that Izuku’s heart stopped and tried to flee.

It can’t be true. It can’t be true!

“Izuku?” she asked, walking forwards when he didn’t move. Izuku hadn’t even taken off his shoes, but he just—couldn’t take any more steps from the doormat. Mom reached him and tugged at his shirt so she could wrap her arms around him. “Izuku, baby, it’s the middle of the week, and you didn’t say you were coming. And they usually have it approved—oh, no, no, do your teachers know you’re here? Did… Izuku? Izuku, what’s wrong?”

He’d started crying at some point. Izuku felt his breathing hitch as he tucked his head forward and shook.

“Mom,” he said.

He’d been angry earlier at the thought. At the secret she must have been keeping from him. At something All for One had said to him, in a moment when All for One could have killed him; and instead he’d tenderly brushed his fingers along Izuku’s temple and said, you look so much like your mother.

And you are exactly like me.

He’d locked that memory away for a long time. It scared him. He didn’t understand it, what All for One wanted. What he meant. Why they hadn’t fought, why All for One had let him go, and why, every time after that encounter, One for All felt different when Izuku used it.

Before, it felt like lightning. Now, it felt like the entire storm.

“When were you going to tell me?” The question burst from him because he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

The doctor, the one who diagnosed him Quirkless. The same doctor who was caught by the heroes as one of All for One’s.

Mom, after Izuku was diagnosed, hadn’t said, you can still be a Quirkless hero. She hadn’t said anything about being Quirkless. She’d only said, crying over him and repeating again and again, I’m sorry.

She pulled back now, even though he felt the same as he had when he was four, and looked into his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” he whispered. “Mom. Please don’t. I- I need to know—”

He saw the moment she realized he knew.

So many moments that made no sense in his childhood, so many pieces, the way Mom never talked about family. And how familiar All for One seemed.

“Oh, Izuku…”

“When were you going to tell me your Quirk wasn’t attraction of small objects? Or that I-I- I wasn’t Quirkless ?” He stopped. Fear trickled in, cold water. “Because… I never was, right?”

Mom bit her lip. She didn’t say sorry this time.

“No, Izuku. You weren’t Quirkless. But—” She wiped at her eyes. “I hoped if you never knew you had inherited a version of your grandfather’s Quirk that you would never use it as he does. And… and for some reason, he agreed to let me keep it from you. That was the last time we spoke—the last time I saw him until, well…”

She didn’t seem surprised anymore. Just sad.

“Say it,” Izuku whispered. She looked so much like him. “Say his name. My… my grandfather’s name.”

Mom shook her head.

“I don’t know his name,” she told him softly. “But you call him All for One.”

She caught his hands as he cried, harder, and kissed his forehead. “I know, baby,” Mom whispered. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. If you have One for All… I didn’t want to hurt you. All for One’s legacy… you always wanted to be a hero so badly. How could I tell you about him?”

“You should have . So I wouldn’t find out like this !” Izuku cried. He thought of Mom’s favorite hairpin, each piece of it, the red crystals forming like beads of blood, and he began to pull it from his arm, thin metal breaking through skin. Mom watched, and took it when he held it out to her. “I took someone’s Quirk. I took- my classmate… Momo. She’s, Mom, I took her Quirk. I didn’t want to, but I just—”

Izuku hadn’t felt right before training, but he pushed the feeling away. When he called One for All in the fight against Momo, it writhed under his skin. It felt different and wrong, and his body so tight he thought he would fall apart if Momo just touched him.

And then she attacked, he’d seen a threat, and a string of light snapped taut between them. Izuku pulled.

“Attraction,” Mom said, with a pained and knowing smile. She tossed the hairpin he’d made in the air and then drew it back towards her before it could go far. “It is the same thing. You feel the connection, and you pull it towards you.”

“I don’t want it.”

Her eyes crinkled. “You are more suited to your Quirk than All for One is, and you’re a far better person than me.” She squeezed his hand. “He would have never said that.”

Izuku touched the hairpin. Thought of the All Might figurine. Perfect replicas, but unoriginal. He had memorized every part of them, thoroughly. He would do the same with his own Quirk, until he could control it finely, to the point where he would never use it again.

But first—

“He said I was exactly like him.”

“You’re nothing like him.” Mom’s smile grew wider. Then she nodded solemnly. “Izuku… I know I’ve made mistakes. But I am sorry.”

She was his mom. She was the person who’d raised him. The person who had lied to him for his entire life, but she had finally told him the truth when he asked.

Izuku thought he might forgive her in time.

But first—

“Can I give it back?”

Mom cupped his hands with hers. “Of course,” she said, and began to teach him how.

Taglist: If you’d like to be added or removed from this taglist (tagged when a new fic is posted), please let me know. If your blog is unmentionable, I cannot tag you.

@happi-tree @soyoudneverguess @granny-griffin @zannish @liarielle @ashemberss @gwogobo @honeyandsonshine @cinammon-cinner @paralumanleadmehome @ship-toast @gabs-2002 @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear @weird-skittle @sapphire363 @fr0znmang0 @in-honor-of-you @cheese490 @anakinthetrashking @proheromidoriyashouto @lust-nd-love @firefletch @mamamiamia @frankiealexquin @crossroadofinterests @bornindundee @bleusmainpage @fleurie3am15inspo @scheherahzade

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 01338: Kix

They always say that medics make the worst patients, and it was doubly true in Kix's case. If he wasn't working in the medbay, all medical care was left to the droids, and their programming left a lot to be desired. At least the men had Kix to treat them. Kix had no organic to treat him if he was the one sick.

At the moment, he was fairly certain he wasn't sick. Sure, his head ached so badly that his stomach threatened to rebel and it hurt to move any part of his body, but that could be explained by any number of ailments. Maybe it had always hurt to swallow, breathe, and blink, and he just hadn't noticed.

On the off chance that he wasn't as well as he thought, Kix had been working to stave off any illness floating around the Resolute. He took in extra liquids and got as much sleep as possible. Since he practically lived in the medbay, sleep was a challenge, but he was trying.

Kix pulled his head up from the surface of his desk, groaning as he did so. The shift in position made his head throb worse than before, but that wasn't why he was cursing. When had he fallen asleep? He was less than halfway through the ever-present stack of medical forms taking up half of his desk, and with no troopers in the medbay, he needed to do as much work as possible before the next crisis hit.

"That didn't sound very rested," a voice remarked from closer than Kix was comfortable with.

He turned quickly, took a moment to huff out a breath and clutch at his head, and stared into Rex's amused eyes. "Captain. When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago. I watched you fall asleep on your forms."

"Did you need something, sir?" Kix asked, wincing. Why were the medbay lights so bright? "Is everything all right?"

"Actually, no," Rex told him. "I have a sick trooper who won't accept medical treatment."

"I'll set him straight," Kix promised grimly. "Who is it?"

"You, obviously," Rex said, the amusement on his face now tinged with concern. "Kix, you're dead on your feet."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Then you won't mind if we power up one of the medical droids to double-check that?"

Kix grimaced. "You want to use one of those shu-shuk machines? They have a success rate of-"

"-55%" Rex finished with him. "I know, Kix, you've told us all. But you're the only medic we've got, and you're clearly not going to treat yourself. The medical droids are the only option. Consider it an order."

"Sorry, sir," Kix reminded. "I have authority on all matters of health. Yours, the men's, and mine. I outrank you in this."

"In this," Rex echoed, frowning forebodingly. "Fifteen push-ups, soldier. That's an order that has nothing to do with medicine."

"Captain-"

"I'm serious, Kix. Fifteen push-ups and I'll drop the medical droid stuff."

"Get ready to lose, Captain," Kix said with a grin. Rex returned the expression, but there was worry on his face.

Five down. This is gonna be so easy…

Eight in and I feel fine. I knew I wasn't sick.

Okay, Kix. You need to spend a little more time in the gym. You shouldn't be this winded after eleven push-ups.

...Why is my face so cold?

"Welcome back," Rex said blandly as Kix tried to raise himself from where he had collapsed on the floor. His arms wouldn't support the weight and he rolled onto his back instead.

"How many did I get to?"

"Thirteen," Rex told him. "Not bad. I thought you would pass out by six or seven."

"I didn't pass out," Kix argued.

"Of course not. I know how much you love lying down with your face pressed against the medbay floor," Rex agreed dryly. "I took the opportunity to power up a med droid. Pick a bed."

Kix glared, but Rex unsympathetically propelled him toward a bed as soon as he was standing. Before he could voice any further complaints, Kix found himself on a bed being scanned by a med droid.

"CT-6116 is showing symptoms of an acute infection in both the sinuses and the upper respiratory tract. This has resulted in secondary symptoms as headache, difficulty breathing, dehydration, fatigue, dizziness, and muscle aches."

Kix glared at the medical droid, mostly to avoid the way Captain Rex was glaring at him. "So, with the typical droid success rate, we can safely rule out those two diagnoses."

"Karking hell, Kix!" Rex hissed in irritation. He took the scanner from the droid and rescanned Kix, passing over his body about four times too many. When he was finally done, he glanced at the screen. "Sinus infection and upper respiratory tract infection. Treat him."

The last bit was directed at the droid, who rummaged around in the med cabinet. Kix gritted his teeth as its rough-jointed metal hands knocked around, systematically destroying all of the organization he had managed in that small space.

"Why did you wait this long, Kix?" Rex asked sharply. "You're a medic. Surely, you've known for a while that you needed treatment."

"If a medic is currently undergoing treatment, he cannot continue to treat others," Kix explained reluctantly. "The risks of accidental malpractice are too high with the side effects of many medications."

Rex stared at him, dark brows furrowed. "The side effects are too much of a risk, but operating with a temperature that is well over standard isn't considered dangerous?"

"It is… or it probably should be," Kix admitted. "But it isn't written that way in the regs, so it isn't an explicit requirement."

Rex frowned even harder. "So… it's a loophole."

"Yes, exactly."

With a sigh, Rex scrubbed his hand over his close-cropped blond hair and collapsed onto Kix's well-worn chair, obviously pulled over from behind the medic's desk. "Do you realize the consequences of the choices you're making?"

Acutely uncomfortable with the knowledge that he had experienced this conversation from the other side far too many times to count - including with the captain himself - Kix shrugged. His answer didn't seem to be enough for the captain, who sat watching him for the (frankly ridiculous) length of time it took for the med droid to give him a dose of antibiotics and a cup of water.

"I know it may come as a surprise to you, but I do monitor the medbay logs," Rex finally said when the droid puttered off to fetch an antibiotic spray for Kix to inhale. "Do you know how much time you spend here?"

"I'm here every day, sir," Kix answered honestly, giving into the realization that Rex wasn't going to let it go.

"Yes, for three-quarters of the day. That gives you a collective five or six hours to shower, eat, and sleep. Judging from those push-ups, you don't spend any of that time training." Kix felt his face flush before he could stop it, but Rex wasn't done. "To put it another way, you've logged almost six-hundred hours in the medbay over the last standard month. That's a little over twenty-three full days out of thirty."

"When I'm not here, sir… men die. Brothers." Kix's voice cracked a little at the admission, but he kept his gaze firmly fixed on Rex, refusing to look away. Caring for his brothers was not a weakness and he wasn't ashamed of it.

The harsh expression on Rex's face softened into something like understanding, but his famously steely resolve didn't fade. "I'm tired, Kix. I'm so tired of watching my men - my brothers - die. I'll be damned if I watch you work yourself to death trying to keep others alive. You have to take care of yourself so that you can keep everyone else safe as long as possible."

He sat back in the chair, running a hand over his jaw as he thought. "Your medic's proficiencies can be pulled. You know as well as I do that the regs say I'm supposed to pull them for the first infraction. I don't want to do that, but I will if I don't see you taking better care of yourself. I won't have another one of these conversations, Kix. Is that understood?"

"Understood, sir," Kix agreed quickly, heart in his throat. So much of his identity was tied up in being a medic… he wasn't sure what he would do if his status was pulled from him.

Rex nodded at that and moved to leave the medbay, but Kix had one more thing to say: "I'm sorry, Captain."

"You will be," Rex said solemnly, the effect made more chilling by the bright smile that flashed across his face in the next moment. "I'm not going to stop any of the men from coming to visit you. That's the worst punishment I can think of."

Kix laughed uncertainly at the threat, but didn't understand it until an hour or so later, when the medbay doors opened to admit a mass of grinning troopers.

"Hey, Kix!" Hardcase greeted, far too loudly.

Commander Tano's grin was nothing short of evil. "We heard you weren't feeling well."

"Not only that," Jesse added with a smirk. "We heard you didn't accept treatment until you collapsed in front of Captain Rex!"

Tup schooled his face into a mock-serious expression. "It's dangerous to take risks with your health like that."

Kix took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at the medbay ceiling and cursing Rex internally. The captain was a cruel, cruel man…

---

A/N - Kix truly is the worst possible patient, but he needed a bit of his own medicine (ba-dum tss)! Sorry for the bit of Rex angst here, but in my mind, this is toward the end of the war, and everyone is getting mentally and emotionally tired. They made a point of mentioning it in the last season of the Clone Wars: sometimes, it's hard to be the one who survives. Also, on a lighter note, how long do you think Rex was working on that medical outranking work-around? My guess is since the time Kix made him stay in the medbay overnight!

Thank you for reading! I would be honored if you would consider reblogging so that my work can spread. There are only a few chapters left in this story, but it’s not too late! To those who have liked or reblogged my work in the past:

Okay, thank you, byeeeee!

[mrsgiovanna]

The Rescue (Don Giorno x Fem! reader)

More self indulgence, not my best 😩, a bit angsty in the beginning but... ❤️💭

TW: Part 5 spoilers, references to major character death

It’s believed that the pivotal events of your life flash before your eyes like an old movie reel just before you’re about to die… what occupied your vision first though, was an extremely distraught Giorno running towards you. It was strange seeing his usually stoic face contorted in such grief. Your heart stung, although you weren’t sure if it was from your physical injuries or your emotional anguish.

It was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission, in and out, observe and leave if there were no threats to Giorno’s new rule, or dispose of any threats if they aimed to disturb the peace. So when you hadn’t returned after a few hours Giorno was concerned. He was reluctant to send you on your own, however, after much pestering, he was reminded that there were few he trusted as much as you. He had faith in your abilities, after all, you fought Diavolo right beside him, and your stand ability was perfect for missions such as this…

There it was again, that suffocating, ominous feeling that seethed in his gut and forced the bile into the back of his throat. Clutching the arrow desperately, he summons his stand and furiously rushes out to go find you. The scene that had greeted Giorno had him frozen in panic for a moment. For the first time, he didn’t have a plan, he couldn’t read the situation and he had no idea on how to save you. What he did know was that, regardless of the circumstances failure was not an option.

As he ran toward you, GER had materialized in all their golden glory… suddenly the noose of panic around his neck had loosened, and he saw a way forward. Swallowing his rage by clenching his jaw shut, Giorno encased you in cage of beautiful vines, ensuring any further attacks on you would rebound towards the enemy.

In your weakened state, you tried to alert Giorno to the enemy that attacked you. A stand user who was concealing his presence had managed to best you, so it was only logical to warn the Don of this threat too... but you didn’t need to as he saw through their ruse.

“Typical Gio, always light-years ahead of everyone else,” you mused, unsure if you had vocalized those thoughts or not. Your eyelids felt like they were weighted by lead, and a sickly squelching sound filled your ears as you tried to push yourself off your back with a badly battered elbow. The effort expended was too much, your consciousness finally faded as you limply fell back.

There it was again… the reel, only this time, there was someone watching beside you. Someone familiar, warm… someone who exuded kindness.

“Piccolina…” there was only one person in the world who called you that. Your head whipped around with breakneck speed, to meet the beautiful sapphire orbs staring at you. You turned around completely and tried to touch Bruno but your hand just phased through his.

“It seems like you’re stuck between realms piccolina, you need to try your hardest to go back to your body,” his voice was gentle and it was clear he was very concerned, as much as he would have loved to have you stay there, there was so much waiting for you on the other side, dreams that needed to be realized, a young man who so desperately loved you.

You were utterly and completely conflicted. On the one hand you just wanted some peace, you knew that you were expendable, and people would move on as they inevitably do. On the other hand, you felt a strong sense of duty to those who had survived, you had to prove your worth and make everything count… had you even done enough yet? Images from your past flashed in front of you, some filled you with sorrow, depicting your most painful memories, others with joy, showing you all the things… and the people you hold dear.

“You must go back now,” Bruno repeated, “before its too late, Giorno needs you,”

“I’m easily replaced, I’m not even that strong… I want to stay here with you! Everything hurts there… physically, emotionally… I’m just so tired.”

Your words hung as if frozen in midair.

It hurt Bruno to see you in such anguish, but as much as he wanted to reach out and comfort you, he couldn’t. All he could do was draw your attention to the scene playing out before you, it seems like you were at the end of your reel, and all you could see before you was a desolate, disheveled looking Giorno, trying with every fiber of his being to revive you. You couldn’t explain how you felt seeing Giorno in that state, but you knew you couldn’t allow it to continue under any circumstance. With a final smile of encouragement from Bruno, you decided to go back, a searing pain took over your body and your senses were going berserk, you felt as if you were both hyperaware and about to pass out all at the same time, until finally you opened your eyes.

When your eyes finally focused, Giorno sighed out of relief seeing the life slowly tugging at your beautiful features once more.

“You look like hell, Don”, you quipped with a lilt of humor to your voice, trying to lighten the tense mood. Your remark was met by a grimace.

“I only look like this because of you, how could you be so reckless? Don’t you realize the gravity of your actions? Do you even spare a thought for the people who care about you? I thought I lost you,”

Giorno’s voice was a whisper as he uttered the last few words, your heart clenched.

“Gio, I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you to worry about me. ”

“How can I not worry about you cara, I love you!” The words rolled off his tongue before he could even think about what he was saying. The change in his expression displayed his steeled resolve. “You heard me, I really do love you, we can discuss this later on though, for now, let’s go home and get you cleaned up, so be a good girl for me, okay?”

“I guess I’m really the one who looks like hell, no?” you said nodding sheepishly, painfully aware of the blood and other debris clinging onto your hair and clothes.

None of that seemed to faze Giorno as he picked you up effortlessly and carried you to the car. Looking up at him, felt like you were actually seeing him for the first time, you don’t know when he had become so mature and self assured.

The drive home was a quiet one, left to your own musings to try and organize your thoughts. You were certain you had had a bizarre dream, but you just couldn’t remember no matter how much you tried.

That you had managed to convince Giorno that you were strong enough to clean yourself up was a feat in itself. When you finally got out, Giorno was waiting for you, wanting to check you for any other injuries that may have escaped him. Unsure of how to handle this new side to him, you silently obeyed, not wanting to challenge him unnecessarily.

Taking the jagged ends of your hair in his fingers with a frown, he made a mental note to get someone to fix that for you. The same hand that was examining your hair had found its way to your chin, tilting your face up to allow his lips to easily connect with yours. You melt into the kiss as if being pulled in by a magnetic force, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if the negative spaces of the contours of his body were there to accommodate the contours of yours, fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle.

All too soon, the magical kiss had ended, leaving you both yearning for more.

“You’re exhausted bella, come, you should rest,”

“As are you Giogio, won’t you stay here with me?”

Giorno contemplated the mountain of work that awaited him in his study, especially after the today’s events, but your beautiful, innocent expression was all the convincing he needed to stay with you.

“Of course bella, it’s been a long day,” and with that, you both settled into bed, leaning into each other as if it was what you were both created to do.