#I need to give myself one person who I know won’t ever walk away and won’t ever hurt me

[rexxdjarin]

one of the topics I’m most excited to delve more into in unwritten and for Mari’s character specifically is abandonment. Every person Mari has ever loved or cared about in her life has left her in one way or another. Whether by tragic death at far too early an age (her parents) or any potential romantic partners that she clings to to feel like she has someone out there for her, Mari has been left by everyone.

She can try to go about her life. She takes care of herself. She is strong and proud and demanding and fiery. But deep down that absolutely crippling fear of being left again will never go away. The closer she gets to someone the stronger the weight of this fear gets, especially in her relationship with Rex.

So much of this comes directly from my own lived experience. The struggle I have with getting people I’m interested in to stay is something I’ve been literally burdened with my entire life. Burdened is a strong word and I’m using it because it is a tremendously heavy and deeply rooted thing to carry around with you. I have spent probably hundreds of nights in dark closets or on bathroom floors or under bedsheets sobbing and choking on tears from something as simple as not getting responded to the way I’m used to or as quickly as I notice is common in a person I’m interested in (platonically or romantically). The ghosts of the people and the potential life with you they walked away with will haunt you for the rest of your life. The questions you ask yourself to make sense of it are things I don’t want to vocalize or type or say out loud because they are brutally and immensely painful and scary thoughts that lead down dark paths I know are right around the corner to wander down if I’m not careful.

I wanted this in Mari’s story. I want to talk about this because I don’t see it being talked about enough especially in romantic and non-toxic contexts. Mari is outwardly strong, she’s every clone’s, every man’s dream, but she is deeply terrified that anyone she cares about will leave her alone all over again. And Rex, being the man who does not quit, whose unending loyalty is quite literally legendary, is just the perfect man to heal with. Not only can we as readers who love him so much trust him with everything (bc lol fictional men can’t leave or hurt you) but Mari can too. Because no matter what, even if it’s hard, Rex doesn’t walk away from anything. Not without a fight. Mari needs and deserves someone like that. And so do I.

[aquaticmercy]

Under My Skin

Summary : Bucky is always ready to give his girl cuddles.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : fluff. Sam being a good wingman.

Requested by : @sergeantbarnessdoll

Word count : 1.5k

Note : I am currently writing this while dyeing my hair red since my irl boyfriend and I are going as Bucky and Nat in the Hellfire Bar from Thunderbolts 2023 comics for halloween (he has long hair, blue eyes, and a scruffy beard. Uh oh I have a type). Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○support my ko-fi○

This week has been long-drawn and exhausting. The world seemed to be conspiring against you and all your efforts. You barely made it through work, and everything you did felt like one never-ending task after another. By the time the weekend finally arrived, all you wanted was to be cocooned in a fuzzy blanket and do nothing until Monday came. 

There was only one person in the world who could provide that: James Buchanan Barnes.

You had been dating super soldier for almost a year now, and while you were past the initial nerves of a relationship, there was still something magical about being in his presence, and you were certain it would ever end. There was something in the way he looked at you with those sky blue eyes that made you feel like you were everything that mattered in his world.

Bucky had always loved spoiling you with his affection, and you would never complain about it, but sometimes, his 40s self would kick in, holding back PDA to a proper amount when all you really wanted was to be wrapped up in his arms and forget about everything else.

Today was one of those days.

It was early afternoon, and Bucky had just returned home from a training session with Sam. He looked a little worn out but still full of energy, you knew he’d recover in no time. He invited Sam back for a drink, and though he had also become a dear friend to you, you could not wait till he walked out the door. 

With Sam around, Bucky’s affection became restrained, especially since they were talking about work things. Bucky was always a little tense when it came to that subject.

“Psst,” you whispered from the side of the couch you were sitting on as Bucky excused himself to use the toilet. “Sam.”

One of Sam’s eyebrows raised, leaning up from the armchair he occupied. “What?”

“Look, you’re a great guy and all,” you began, smiling to let him know you meant no harm, “But you’re taking my boyfriend away from me.”

Sam was clearly entertained by your attempt to be diplomatic. He crossed his arms over his chest, giving you a playful look. “Oh, I see what this is. You’re kicking me out, huh?”

“Not kicking you out.” You corrected, smiling sheepishly. “Just… nudging?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “I get it. He can be caught up in missions sometimes.”

You sighed, knowing Sam was right. No matter what, Bucky always had that serious, brooding nature, especially when it came to this line of work.

“I know,” you glanced over toward the hallway where Bucky had gone, lowering your voice. “He doesn’t know how much I need him right now. I just want him to myself, you know?”

Sam studied you for a moment, a gentle smile forming on his face. “He’s not the best at picking up on those cues, is he?”

You nodded.

“Alright, alright. I hear you,” Sam said, “I can be subtle. Don’t worry, I won’t let ol’ Buck figure out what’s going on.”

Your eyes lit up, thankful you had a friend on your side. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Just remember this when I need you to get me out of babysitting your super soldier boyfriend,” Sam stood, stretching his arms overhead, “He has a tendency of blowing random shit up on covert missions, and I have to justify all the damage to Ross.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you watched Sam walk toward the door. He called out loud enough for Bucky to hear, “Well, I’d better get going. Got stuff to do— important Avenger business.”

Bucky reappeared from the hallway after you heard a flush, his brows furrowed. “Thought you wanted to hang out for a while.”

“I’ve been here long enough,” Sam waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, you know how it is— people to see, world-saving to do.” He gave Bucky a casual grin, one that didn’t betray a single hint of the conspiracy between you two.

Before Bucky could answer, Sam added, “I’ll see you both later. Oh, and Buck?” Sam leaned in, lowering his voice so only Bucky could hear. “Take care of her.”

Bucky’s expression softened, glancing at you. “I always do.”

With that, Sam made a quick exit, leaving you and Bucky alone at last.

You watched him lock the door from the couch, shrugging and not suspecting a thing. He then made his way in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water, his back turned to you as he unknowingly teased you with the way his shoulder muscles moved beneath his fitted shirt.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, slumping further into the couch, hoping he would notice, now that his friend wasn't keeping him preoccupied.

He didn’t.

You sighed louder, more dramatically this time, and when that still didn’t get his attention, you resorted to your favourite tactic: being whiny enough to still be adorable, and only annoying enough to get his attention.

“Bucky….” you called, dragging out his name. “I’m lonely.”

He turned around, leaning back on the kitchen counter. His eyebrows raised, amused. “Doll, I’m right here.”

“It’s too far,” you pouted. You crossed your arms, scrunching up your nose in a way that you knew would pull a tug at his heartstring. It was his weakness. “Come cuddle.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. He walked over to the couch, setting his glass on the coffee table. “Someone’s a little needy.” He teased.

“I’ve been waiting for you all day,” you whined again, reaching out and grabbing his human hand, pulling him toward you. “It’s been forever since we cuddled.”

Bucky chuckled. To a degree, he enjoyed keeping you begging for his affection, even though you knew he’d give it to you freely. “We cuddled this morning, darling.”

“That was this morning,” you argued, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes. 

He chuckled again. The sound was deep and soothing, blanketing warmth around the room. “Oh, so one cuddle a day isn’t enough for my girl?”

“Nope,” you said, emphasis on the ���p’ sound. Tugging on his arm, you attempted to pull his large frame onto the couch with you, though your tired strength was no match to his.

Still, Bucky played along, letting himself be dragged down until he was sitting beside you. He draped an arm around you, but not fully embracing you yet.

You weren’t satisfied with that. You wriggled onto his lap, straddling him and pressing your forehead against his, your noses brushing together. His hands instinctively rested on your hips, steadying your frame.

“You’re lucky I’m such a sucker for you,” Bucky murmured, burying his head on the crook of your neck.

You smiled sweetly, wrapping your arms tightly around his form. “Does that mean you’ll give me all the cuddles?”

“Of course, doll.”

Satisfied with his answer, you rested your head on his broad shoulder as his strong arms circled around you. His metal arm was cool against your back, his other hand was comforting as it rubbed soothing circles against the small of your back. You let out a content sigh, melting into his sweet embrace.

Bucky squeezed you as he breathed in your sweet, flowery scent. “Rough day?” he asked as you felt his voice reverberate throughout his chest.

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumbled, nuzzling further into him, if that was even physically possible.

Bucky’s chest rumbled as a soothing chuckle escaped his lips. His fingers continued tracing light patterns on your back. “You’re really not gonna let me move, are you?” 

“Nope,” you said, your voice muffled. After a few seconds, you shifted slightly. “Actually,” you started, “this isn’t close enough.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “How much closer can we get?”

You tilted your head, as if pretending to think. “Well... maybe if we were cocooned in a blanket. And you were lying down. And also, you could wrap your arms and legs around me like a human pretzel.”

He playfully rolled his eyes but obliged anyway. He'd do anything for his girl.

He leaned back on the couch, pulling you down with him. You made yourself comfortable, sprawling over his chest like a tabby cat as he tugged a nearby throw blanket over the two of you.

“There,” he said, pulling you even closer. His arms circled around your waist, legs tangled comfortably. “Happy now, clingy?” he teased.

“Almost,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I just need you to hold me a little tighter.”

Bucky tightened his grip very slightly. 

“More,” you whined, shifting in his grasp.

He pretended to sigh dramatically, but his smile was obvious as he squeezed you. He enveloped you as tight as he could, careful not to hurt you. “You’re gonna disappear if I keep this up.”

“Exactly,” you mumbled, snuggling into the crook of his neck. “I just want to be under your skin. Is that too much to ask?”

Bucky kissed your forehead. His lips lingered for a second as he muttered, "You’re already under my skin, doll." He said, his voice brimming with affection. You could tell he meant it, and in a good way. "And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

-end

[gaysindistress]

What if Simon didn’t listen when Price told him to apologize to his girl before she does go off and find herself a better man? - part two

a/n: I know John isn’t American but I kept picturing him as Joe from SIX and honety Gibs from NCIS and I couldn’t stop myself. I sincerely apologize that this John is American-grumpy-hot-military-older man coded (not really). Also I know it took a month and I’m so sorry 🙈 I got so busy at work but it’s here! Enjoy!!

Warnings: smutty smut smut, phone sex

non-mcu masterlist

part one

Taglist: @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @calicocat45 @whos-fran @vonev @yyiikes

The situation at hand is tricky to say the least. Waiting around and trying to be careful of everyone’s feelings will push you away. On the other hand, he’s wanted to show you the love that you deserve and now is his chance.

Fuck Simon.

Fuck him for treating you like a safety net and like you’re replaceable. Fuck him for letting you shoulder the burden of your relationship and expecting you to always be at his beck and call. Fuck him for lying to you instead of having the balls to just be honest about why he wanted to break up. Fuck Simon Riley for saying that you could find a better man and expecting you to not listen to him for once.

“I want a lot of things,” he starts and takes a moment to choose his words, “I might be a gentleman but I’m a selfish man. I won’t take what’s not offered but you’d be hell bent to find me sharing my life with others. If you say that it’s over and mean it, well then love, I’ll be the most selfish man you’ve ever met when it comes to you. Im not some young lad anymore; I’m settled in my life and now that things are stable I want someone to share it with. I’ll follow your lead when it comes to how we share it but just know that I don’t want something casual or even friendship.”

You’re still resting your chin on his shoulder, listening to his every word as hope begins to fill your eyes. It’s the last sentence he whispers as he gazes down at you that causes your breath to hitch;

“I’ll love you until my lungs give out.”

And this man Delivers. The capital d is not a typo. John Price understands that you’re an independent person and he respects that. That’s not to say that he doesn’t spoil the absolute shit out of you and ensures that you are happy in every facet of your life imaginable.

The dogs are being wild today and overwhelming you? As soon as he gets home, he’s taking them out on a walk and giving you instructions to go have yourself a nice hot bath. Dinner is already taken care of so no need to worry about that. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the quiet.

He’s been on deployment for a couple weeks and the loneliness is starting to creep in? You will be getting at least two check in texts a day and a call or FaceTime if he can before you go to bed. You should also expect some sort of care package to be on your doorstep weekly. This could be anything from flowers to your whole ass Amazon cart, all you need to do is say you miss him and he’s got you covered.

Things have been a little tense between the two of you? Well get ready because you’re going to be doing a check in that night where the two of you talk about whatever is going on. If it’s something small like you’re both stressed from work and a weekend getaway is needed, he’s already got that planned. If it’s something that needs more work, he’s ready to dive right into it and figure it out.

Still true to his internal word, nothing physical happens between you two at first. He wanted desperately to kiss you when he told you he would love you until his last breath but he didn’t. Disgusted by the enormity of his craving for you, John vowed to wait until you asked for his physical affection. Of course this meant he wouldn’t give into any of your advances until you told what you wanted.

After that night, you began the long and arduous process of breaking down John’s resolve. While it may have been unspoken, you knew what he wanted but you weren’t going to give into him so quickly. It started with closing the distance between you two. Instead of sitting on opposite ends of the couch, you’d lay your feet in his lap or move just close enough to trail your fingers over the back of his hand. Only would you move to sit beside him if he slung his thick arm over the couch’s back and beckoned you closer. Then you would take every opportunity possible to cuddle into his side and slyly skirt your hands across the waistband of his sweats when you wrapped your arms around him. If you were in the kitchen together, you were always just out of his grasp. His fingers could grasp at the back of your shirt but never fully grab you. You’d swiftly slip around him if he moved behind you but not before brushing your hands over him in some way.

Eventually you grew bolder and began to shower with the door propped open. You’d said it was so the dogs could still see you but John isn’t stupid. He knew that you wanted him to catch a glimpse of your body through the foggy glass doors. But here’s the thing; he’s not Simon. Simon would’ve joined you and fucked you on that glass door like your life depended on it but not a captain price.

No no no. John Price is going to make you say those three little words, ‘I want you’, before he touches you even if it means leaving on for a mission without so much as a chaste peck on the lips. No amount of sly looks and sneaky touches is going to convince this man to give into you.

He starts beating you at your own game though. his bedroom door is suddenly always cracked open making it so that you can hear every rumbling moan and gasp of your name when he fists his cock at night. You no longer feel the waistband of his underwear when you wrap your arms around his am waist during your cuddles. Instead your fingers find the thick trail of hair that disappears under his sweatpants. Speaking of which, John knows about grey sweat pants and he exploits that turn on every chance he gets. Soon it goes from just wearing them low on his hips to forgoing boxers (as mentioned above) and sometimes he even ‘forgets’ his shirt. The memory of his thick bare chest on display alone is enough to make you clench your legs together.

When he finally does have to leave for work, he presses a light kiss to your temple and tells you to be careful. It goes without saying but John makes your promise anyways. Eases his old heart as he likes to say. If only he would go easy on yours…

Nearly every photo, FaceTime, what have you, this man is bare chested with lidded eyes and a knowing smirk on his face. He knows that you’re frustrated with the way things have played out; namely his departure with no memorable moments. He’s already become an expert in you, knowing what your body langue means, what your blushes mean, and most importantly, what your words truly mean.

Probably about a month in to this mission is when it comes to a climax. Your hands were doing nothing to ease the ache between your legs and your toys were making it worse. It was as if your body knew that it was you instead John rubbing small circles into your clit late at night. You’d tried nearly everything you could think of aside from finding someone in a pub and telling the older captain about your dilemma. While you two weren’t anything more than roommates with feelings at this point, it still felt wrong to find someone else to help you out. With only one person that your body wanted and nothing you could do about it, you settled for being sexually frustrated and irritable.

John is finally able to get some alone time to call you and actually talk to you. Settled into some poor excuse for a cot, he makes himself comfortable as he waits for you to pick up. It makes maybe a few rings before your tight voice comes through with a short ‘hello?’

He wants to chuckle and fails to suppress it, “Well hello to you too, love.”

Immediately you sigh when you recognize his voice, “oh John it’s you. How are you?”

“Been better. What’s been going on with you?”

You let out another deep sigh, pausing to answer as you contemplate what to tell him.

“What is it, love? Something bothering you?”

“I…I’m just….im just irritable,” you attempt to pass off as the full truth but John knows you better than that.

“Irritable you say?”

You can hear him shuffle around on his end and it causes your legs to cross to even think about him. God it’s beyond annoying to be this turned on over just hearing him move around, let alone hear his voice right now.

“I’d say a relaxing day is in order,” he teases with a low pitched sultry tone, “find some relief in a massage maybe.”

Relief.

The word feels hot as it washes over your brain and invokes images that would make a nun curse under her breath.

You snort at his suggestion. In that small noise, he finds all the answers he needed; you’re about to break and murmur those three sweet words.

“No appeal to that, love?” He asks and you can just hear the smirk he’s wearing. “A massage isn’t the relief you’re looking for though is it? You need a different type of relief, isn’t that right love?”

That bastard.

You hear him shuffle again and you swear to god you hear the sound of a belt coming undone.

“Talk to me. Tell me how I can help.”

If you weren’t needy before, you must certainly are now. You feel pathetic, a bitch in heat with the way your body starts to react to his simple words. Practically mumbling you attempt to tell him to fuck off but it doesn’t sting as much as you’d hoped. John laughs off your feeble attempt at hiding the true reason you’re in a mood.

Instead of adding flame to fire, he stays quiet.

It takes 40 agonizing seconds of silence for you to groan his name out of frustration. The captain only hums his acknowledgment that you spoke.

Phone sex isn’t new to you by any means however there’s something about this time that causes you to falter. There’s something about the way he initiated it but is allowing you to lead where it goes. There’s something about the way he knew what you needed within seconds. There’s something about the way your body seems to know that it craves his without ever touching.

“Yes,” you mumble while your cheeks burn and your body sings at the thought of getting what it truly desires.

John chuckles under his breath and the sardonic sounds causes your eyes to squeeze shut.

“Be a good girl for me and slip your hand into your panties.”

Your hearing dulls to a muffled tone as your hand follows his instructions. Barely does your ears register the sound of skin on skin, a slick hand taunting an impossibly hard cock. Your name comes out as a groan when you tell him to continue.

“Fuuckkk, love. Tell me are ya wet?”

“S…soaked.” You sigh as you roll your clit with your fingertips.

He lets out a string of curses as his hips buck up into his hand and his cock throbs from his slow pace.

“I want you to keep rubbing your clit and fuck yourself with your fingers,” the captain orders you, “and dont try to hide any of those pretty sounds.”

You mumble a weak ‘okay’ as you work your clit in small circles, feeling yourself become even more wet.

Strings of curses fall from his lips as he listens to your desperate cries of pleasure. The sounds of his thrusts get louder and louder in time when you bury two fingers in and become to fuck yourself like he told you to. It feels better than all of your other attempts but it’s not enough.

Nothing will be enough until you can feel John’s cock deep inside of you. Until you can feel his hips rut against yours and his hoarse moans in your ear. Until you feel the burn that his facial hair will give you when he eats you out like a starved and neglected dog. Until you feel his warm speed leak from you after he’s worked you through several of your own orgasms.

The thoughts of what is to come push you over the edge and you moan out his name in an absolutely pornographic manner. It stirs something disgustingly powerful and sinful deep in his gut when he hears it. He can only imagine the beautiful display of pleasure and bliss that you’ve come as you lay panting post orgasm.

You can only imagine how stunning he looks with his sweats pulled down to his mid thigh, his bare chest rapidly rising and falling while his stomach is painted with his own cum.

“John?” You whisper after your breathing has returned to normal(ish). “When are you coming home?”

His lips turn up in a smirk at your word choice, “missing me more than you let on, now are ya love?”

“Yeah it’s lonely without you here. you can’t leave on another deployment like this without fucking me before.”

“I promise it won’t happen again, my love.”

[abbys-wifey]

penalty shot

request linked here

pairing: jenna ortega x female reader

warnings: none

a/n: i think i’m also gonna start writing for arcane characters (mostly sevika) , lemme know what u guys want :)

Stress doesn’t even begin to cover the amount of anxiety I feel as I stand under the stadium lights readying myself to kick a penalty goal. My team may be up by one but missing this kick could ruin my chances at moving up the league ladder. Plus it doesn’t help that football fans are never lenient when it comes to penalty goals, miss it and your basically the worst player to ever walk the field.

Taking a deep breathe I glance toward the goalie who stands crouched in the middle of the goal side stepping from side to side ready to dive. With a clench of my jaw and a last glance at my team behind me I manage to calm myself as each member nods their head in encouragement. Finally I begin to run towards the ball, grass kicking up in my wake as I lift my right leg and make contact with the ball.

The stadium is silent, watching as the ball flies through the air looking as if it’s going for top bins. My hopes are quickly squashed however as the goalie manages to get a finger to the ball causing it to fly up and over the goal and straight into first row of the crowd.

An ooh echoes around the stadium as my ball smacks a brown haired woman dead in the middle of her face. Her hands immediately flying up to her nose as she winces in pain. “Shit.” I mumble under my breath seeing the woman on the big screen, my cheeks blushing red as I notice how beautiful she happens to be.

“Dude, you just hit Jenna Ortega in the face.” My teammate Sam whispers, her eyes not leaving the big screen either. “Of course I did. I’ll be right back.” I pat her on the back before heading over towards Jenna who dabs at her nose which runs red blood all down her chin.

“Hey, no you can’t leave the field.” The ref sprints in front of me, an arm extended out before me to prevent me from getting any further. “I just need to see if she’s ok.” I plead gently pushing the refs arm.

“Only time your leaving this field before time is up will be for a red card and if u keep behaving how you are it won’t be far away.” The refs eyes narrow before he picks up his whistle and blows it loudly in my ear.

“Get back on the field.” He seethes, a vein popping on his neck. Holding my hands up in surrender I head back to the field glancing over my shoulder to find Jenna already staring at me. I send her an apologetic smile to which she raises her eyebrows with a tiny smile she tried so hard to hide.

Throughout the rest of the match I can’t help but glance over at the brown haired woman who holds a cloth to her nose yet still cheers loudly. Even with the blood running down her chin and the large cloth covering half her face, her beauty still managed to force the blood to rush to my cheeks.

Finally only two minutes remain with the score now tied. The crowd fades into background noise as I slide across the ground successfully tackling a girl from the opposite team causing her to trip over my foot as it hits the ball from between her legs. Her arms extend as she gasps, glaring at the ref as if trying to force him to give me a yellow card.

Luckily the call never comes allowing me to take the ball that rolls down the field and dribble it towards the goals. Defenders come my way pausing my play as I somehow manage to manoeuvre the ball between their legs until it is just me and the goalie once again.

Kicking hard silence falls over the stadium as my ball flies through the air. Only this time the goalie dives the opposite way allowing the back of the net to catch my ball.

The stadium erupts into cheers and applause, my name echoing across the stadium as the buzzer finally sounds ending the match. I find myself surrounded by my team mates, each one wrapping their arms around me and slapping my back in celebration of our victory but I only have eyes for one person at this time.

“Guys, guys hang on I have to do something. One minute.” I force my way out the group and head towards the crowd once again, only this time no ref stops me as I lean against the barricade where Jenna sits.

“I’m so sorry for hitting you.” I apologise instantly, gently biting my lip as she sticks her tongue out to wet her lips. “You made up for it with that last goal.” She shrugs with a small smile. “Plus it’s not broken so.” Jenna pulls the cloth away from her nose for a second as if to show me her button nose is far from damaged. “Yeah still looks perfect to me.” I flirt holding eye contact with the girl who raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” She fakes a pout and I let out a laugh before stepping backwards.

“Well then let me make it up to you.” I pull my jersey over my head leaving me in just a sports bra and shorts. “Got a pen? I can sign it for you too.” I chuckle as Jenna not so subtly eyes my stomach before reaching into her back pocket. “How do you even know I go for your team?” She teases watching me with a grin as I roll my eyes.

“Well the cheering and screaming of my name was a large sign.” I retort leaning my jersey against the barricade so I can write on it.

Signing my name and my number onto the jersey I place it in her hand, ignoring the tingling sensation as her finger graze mine. “Don’t sell it or I’ll have to change my number for the third time.” I playfully threaten. “Ooh I might just have to. Call it revenge.” Jenna chuckles before glancing over my shoulder.

“Looks like people are waiting on you. I’ll text you. Maybe.” She grins. I raise an eyebrow. “I’ll be waiting Miss Ortega. And I promise next time I see you there will be no blood noses involved.” I send her a wink before turning around and heading back to the field.

[celestialtarot11]

How to Turn Your Situation Into Something Positive 🍵💗

Hi friends! Welcome to another PAC reading where we’ll be looking at how to transform any current situations you’re in! Keep in mind there are many different groups here and there will be messages which you won’t resonate with, just leave it for someone else 😊❤️ Please like, comment and reblog to share the love ☮️

Pile 1 🌟- Hi there pile 1’s! Someone definitely did ya’ll dirty in a situation and it left you feeling sad and lonely. A loss was created because someone handled a situation unfairly, and you’ve been feeling very down. This situation felt like it was weighing on your chest, and possibly there was a misunderstanding of feelings, or someone took something the wrong way and blew up here. And I feel like you took the brunt of the situation for a long time. I feel like this is something that was happening for a long time, and you’ve been wanting justice to come to this situation, or karma to hit that person to show them where they went wrong. Its also very possible for some of you this person reached out and reignited those triggers and you’re finding it difficult to be compassionate towards them. Your anger is understandable and so are your triggers, I feel like spirit is saying it’s important to know your boundaries in this situation and have your back. Look after you first. There are/were people who benefitted from you having no boundaries because they liked the feeling of power, and that needs to change. There’s this feeling of stepping up or no longer accepting their bullshit, which I’m so proud of you pile 1! Know your worth and value. Thats how you turn this situation into a positive one. Knowing your true worth and value will help you walk away from anything that is less than what you want. This person could be bread-crumbing you and as of now you’re done with that energy! Im also hearing whilst its very understandable you’d wish someone their own karma, spend your time wishing yourself the blessings you’ve always wanted instead. Feed yourself empowerment and start thinking “how can I support myself now?” be there for yourself pile 1, and also once you heal you begin to see a lot of things that you didn’t before. Within yourself and everyone else. Happy healing pile 1 💗🌟 Wishing you the best! Please like comment and reblog to support this blog ✨

Pile 2 ☮️- Hi there pile 2! ❤️🌟 Welcome to your reading. For you I see you need to distance yourself from a community or situation here and really really focus on your self confidence. Your esteem, body, and health. There’s something about getting your life in order and no longer letting external factors or people tell you what to do. Become your own boss in this situation. Some of you need to take an active role in this situation as well and know you’re the shit! 💗 like speaking up, setting boundaries, deciding what YOU’ll do, not focusing on them. You’re everything anyone could ever want, and some of you may have forgotten that. Your true power is meant to come out in this situation. What would help as well is remaining unbothered by this person or situation. I’m hearing it’s a silly situation, for some of you. Like petty high school drama. There could be someone trying to compete with you and show they are the best, but truthfully insecurities are loud, confidence is quiet. I’m hearing from spirit let them make a fool out of themselves because they are responsible for themselves only! What they say and what they do is on them. Continue working on yourself because I feel like whoever this is, is trying to undermine your confidence or skill, and you won’t stand for it and shouldn’t! 😤 I also feel like spirit will be giving you messages in your dreams about this situation so definitely sleep with amethyst, clear quartz or lavender herb under your pillow. If not allergic, drink lavender and chamomile before you bed ✨either way I feel like your presence is truly amazing and its like royalty, and what you need to know is that don’t give those haters your attention. Focusing on yourself is literally the best outcome here. Thank you pile 2’s! Please like comment and reblog to spread the love 💗🌹

Pile 3 ⌛️- Hi there pile 3’s! First of all I just want to ask if ya’ll are okay? 🥹❤️ Ya’ll seem to be going through it. Either a relationship with someone got unhealthy and controlling, or there has been a loss and you’re struggling to cope with it. Spirit is offering a lot of support and healing right now, and although you may not see it or feel it, spirit is protecting you heavily now. There’s a veil around you. I also feel that this ending was necessary because it was getting toxic, controlling and brought out the worse. I think someone here had to make a decision to choose themselves over toxicity. And it’s okay to hurt by that too. Honor and acknowledge your loss without shaming yourself for making the healthy choice 💗 I received the Queen Of Cups so I feel like there’s something about focusing on your growth and healing now. “Let growth be your mission. Let healing be your reward. Let freedom be your goal.” I love this quote and I go by it. Spirit wanted me to share it with ya’ll. I feel like ya’ll have been working on your healing for a long time and revisited something of the past, and its been tough processing it. In a way, its allowing this new version of you to come through and grow every time 💗🥹 This new version of you has a lot of emotional abundance and knowledge, and is definitely patient and caring. I feel like your higher self is coming through to also say it’s important to feed yourself kind words. If harsh words worked it would’ve worked a long time ago is what I heard too. Call yourself the names you wish to be called, like nicknames, talk gently, and use respectful words to yourself the way you would with anyone else ✨💗 I feel like you guys used to give everyone your secret wisdom, or the things you’ve healed from like all of that information, and now you are being asked to remain private and selective about it. This will help you a lot in this situation to focus on yourself. Thank you for being here pile 3 and I sincerely hope this helped you ❤️🌟 Please like comment and reblog to help this blog grow 🌟😊

Thank ya’ll for stopping by! Its highly appreciated and I really hope this PAC got ya’ll the clarity you needed ❤️🥹 Thank ya’ll for being here always.

Paid Readings 💗✨

[tsunami-of-tears]

Someplace better

Azriel x Reader

A/N: This is dark. There are no happy endings. Please read the warnings.

Wordcount: <1K

Warnings: angst doesn’t even cut it; emotionally abusive family dynamic; suicide; it does not end well, you’ve been warned.

My mother is a horrible wench. 

We just had yet another fight that ended in screaming and tears and slammed doors. 

I thought our relationship was getting better. I was trying to open up about the struggles I’ve been having, only to have them all thrown back in my face. 

“Before you point the finger at everyone else, maybe you need to consider that you’re the problem,” she sneers. 

I’d been trying to tell her how overwhelmed I felt, that I felt stuck and couldn’t see a way out. I can feel myself starting to crack under the pressure, pieces of me splintering as I try to be everything for everyone. 

No matter how hard I try, it’s not enough. There’s always something I’m not doing, something not done right. 

‘You’re a failure and a burden,’ that little voice says, harmonising with my mother’s insults.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself,” she says dismissively. 

So much for motherly love… 

————

Later that evening, I’m heading to the River House for a family dinner. These events have become less frequent with everyone’s busy schedules, and I’m looking forward to seeing my friends. 

Rhysand greets me at the door, pulling me into a hug. “Y/N, it’s been too long,” he smiles down at me warmly. “Everyone else is here already, come in.” 

“It’s good to see you, I’ve missed everyone,” I give Rhys a tight smile in return. 

Time appears to stop as we walk down the hallway. The awkwardness drags on for what feels like forever. My thoughts race with things I could say, but my tongue cannot form the words. Rhys notices my silence, furrowing his brows at me. I plaster a huge smile on my face, attempting to conceal my inner turmoil. I can’t tell if Rhys picks up on my forgery. 

We enter the living room which is alive with chatter between my friends. 

Mor, Feyre and Cassian are laughing together, likely about something Cassian said. 

Amren and Nesta are engaged in a heated discussion.

And then Azriel… He’s with Elain, talking softly together about gods knows what. My heart starts to crack at the sight. 

I really don’t want to get between Nesta and Amren, and I can’t face Azriel and Elain together, so I sit next to Cassian as Rhys perches on the arm of the chair beside Feyre. He leans down to kiss her softly on the top of her head and I look away quickly, the crack growing until I feel like my heart is split in two.

Cassian gives me a quick peck on the cheek as I sit before returning to his conversation with Feyre and Mor. 

I struggle to engage with anyone, feeling more alone than ever while surrounded by my chosen family. 

————

The rest of the night is much of the same. 

Every single word is a monumental effort. 

I’m hyper-aware of every single person around the table. Every single smile and hidden touch. I feel as if I’m watching from behind a window. I’m on the outside. Alone.

‘They’ll be fine without you,’ that little voice whispers in my ear. ‘Look how happy they are. They don’t need you. All your efforts are wasted. You are a waste.’

After dinner I bid everyone goodnight, heading up to my room. 

I miss the concerned glances between my friends, who noticed I’ve been extra quiet tonight.

I miss the shadows that follow behind me. 

I miss the way Azriel zones out from what Elain is saying as he watches me leave. 

————

I can’t remember the last time I stayed in this room but all my things remain untouched. Clothing, journals, even some beauty products - all where I left them. 

I pick up one of my old journals and flip through the pages. I mostly write down the bad stuff. It usually helps get the feelings out, but right now, it’s only adding to the storm that’s brewing inside me. 

I carefully set down the books in a stack on my nightstand, picking up a scrap of parchment. As I always do, I write. 

I’m sorry to do this here, tonight, but I cannot go on any longer.  I truly believe this is for the best. The world was not made for people like me. I’m far too soft.  I love you all. Y/N

I set the note down on the bed and rummage through my various medicines. I’ve always struggled to sleep, so I should have some extra tonics in here somewhere… 

I find four bottles of sleeping tonic in one of my drawers, plus the one in my pocket. 

I arrange them on the nightstand in a straight line. 

I pick up the first bottle, uncorking it and raising it in the air. 

A toast, to finding someplace better.

I bring the glass rim to my lips, chugging the clear liquid. 

One down. Just a few more. 

I make short work of the remaining bottles, though I feel a bit queasy from the sheer volume. 

As I set down the last bottle, a wisp of darkness curls around my wrist and snakes between the empty bottles. 

“You’re too late,” I tell it. 

The shadow vanishes and my eyes start to droop. 

I lay down on the bed, my entire body feeling heavy. 

As I feel myself losing the battle for consciousness, a mass of dark shadows appears next to the bed. 

Azriel. 

He is frantic as he reaches towards me. 

So close. He was so close. 

I never get to feel those hands again as the world fades to black and I give myself over to the endless sleep. 

A/N: I’m not gonna lie and say I’m okay when clearly I’m not, but I’m not unsafe tonight. 

Mental Health Resources*:  If you’re in immediate danger please call your country’s emergency number. Australia: Beyond Blue: https://www.beyondblue.org.au/ Mental Health Hotline: 1800 011 511 Lifeline: 13 11 14 USA:  Crisis Line (call or text): 988 UK:  Lifeline: 0808 808 8000 *If I have gotten anything wrong or if you have other resources to add, please let me know

[faithisyours]

Something to Tell

Azriel x Ace Fem!reader

Summary: You and Azriel are recently mated. You decide to take things slow, but you have something personal to tell Az.

Warnings: coming out, fluff

Word Count: 965

A/N: Sup y’all. Sorry I’ve been absent, a lot of shit happened. Anyways, I really just wrote this one for me. I think the topic of asexuality is really left out of this book series and fandom, understandably so, but I think it would be an interesting subject to discuss, so I’m here to fulfill my own wishes. Given the lore and rules around mates, I don't even know if this could be considered a thing, but I’m gonna try my hardest to make it a thing for my ace baddies out there. IDK if I’m gonna make this a series or not (probably won’t), but maybe see how people like it before making decisions. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to tell me. As always, minors gtfo. Adults, you enjoy!

You’re just finishing up bottling an allergy tonic for your neighbor’s son when the door to your apothecary opens, the bell above ringing out. You know exactly who it is, and you are simultaneously filled with dread and relief. Azriel, your freshly bonded mate, walks into the back room where you are working, his big Illarian boots creaking the floorboards wherever he steps. When you look up to greet him he gives you a soft smile, a smile you return.

You’ve known Azriel for a little over a year now, ever since Mor begged him to come pick up her sleeping tonic from you because she had been busy. But the bond haden’t snapped for either of you until roughly a month ago, when you were out drinking at Rita’s with the inner circle, per Nesta’s invite. Over the years you had grown close with the inner circle, specifically Mor and Nesta. What had started out as small talk when they came to pick up a tonic had blossomed into a beautiful friendship.

But the last thing in the world you had wanted to happen was to form a bond with someone, especially someone as good and sweet and caring as Azriel. Sure, he is beautiful, you of all people can see that, but the physical attraction stops there, like it always does. Emotionally you two are very compatible, sharing similar interests in books, music, and dancing. After the bond had snapped you both decided to take things slowly, moreso for your sake than his. Every day you grow more and more in love with him; you’re just terrified to see the disappointment and confusion in his eyes after you tell him you’re ace.

“Almost ready to go, Love?” Azriel asks, his eyes following the skilled movements of your hands.

“Almost done,” you respond, screwing the cap and writing the label onto the bottle quickly. You buss your wok table, putting away ingredients and empty bottles. You look over everything twice more, checking for anything out of place, but also as a means to stall. You are dreading this conversation.

“Looks good, Love. Want me to grab your coat?” You turn to him, a small smile on your lips, and grab his hand, gently cradling it in yours.

“Actually… Can I talk to you for a minute before we leave? I need to tell you something.”

“Ya, of course,” he squeezes your hand gently, reassuringly. “What’s up?” You take a deep breath and guide him to sit in one of the chairs at your work table, then pull one towards yourself so you're sitting in front of him. You take both his hands in yours. You don’t make eye contact but instead stare at your hands intertwined.

“There’s something I need to tell you about myself and I need you to listen and let me explain before you say anything,” you look up to see him nodding, a look of concern and confusion on his face. The knot in your stomach is twisting. Your anxiety is through the roof, but you take a deep, albeit shaky, breath to steady yourself.

“Okay. I don’t really know how to go about saying this so I’m just gonna say it. I’m asexual, which means I form little to no sexual attraction, in my case none at all, to anyone. Which means the likelihood of me wanting to have sex with you is basically zero. I know it’s kind of a thing for mates to do it all the time, and so I thought since I am the way I am that I would never form a bond with anyone, but I guess I was wrong. And I know you're probably thinking, “well, didn’t the bond snapping make you feel anything like that?” and the answer would be no. Umm…I guess I just want to add and say that I’m not broken, and that life will be a little different with me, and that I know my boundaries, but I’m also willing to try things with you because I love you and trust you… And this doesn’t mean I don't find you attractive, because I do, I think you're really pretty, but it's more in a ‘I want to paint you’ sort of way instead of an ‘I want to fuck you’ sort of way. And I’m rambling so I’m going to stop now.”

Your leg is bouncing up and down, gaze still glued to your entwined hand. A beat of silence passes, and then he squeezes your hands, which in turn makes you look up at him. His eyes are full of understanding and love, emotions you were not expecting to see. You exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling some of your anxiety fade away.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes at him, the last of your anxiety washing away. He stands and pulls you up to do the same. He releases one of your hands, using his to brush a rouge strand of hair behind your ear, then pulls you into a tight embrace. You’re taken off guard, but you melt into him, breathing in his crisp, piny scent.

“Thank you for telling me,” he squeezes you tighter. “And I know you said life will be different with you and I want to let you know I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, and I know we can work through any problems we may face. You are perfect. Cauldron boil me if I ever so much as think to change a single thing about you.”

And with that, he releases you from his embrace, you wipe the few tears that had welled at his words, and you go home.

[narcissarina]

Heyyy pookie, I was the one who requested the Re2 Leon fic. It was sooo good 💗 and thanks for taking my request, I hope that you make a second part in the future 😼

TYSMMMM, I'M GLAD YOU LIKE IT<33 JUST DID PART TWO HOPE YOU ENJOY<33

tw: hurt, comfort, Leon cradling you in his lap</3

Part 1 here!

𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑨𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝑵𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒐��𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐.

Word count: 1,155

It’s been months ever since you joined R.P.D and Leon on the other hand is proving himself worthy to you every single day, in every second, minute, and hours. The rookie that fell for you at first sight would go lengths to make him worthy of your love, he brings you gifts as usual and put them at your office doorstep as usual.

You’d call him to your office to get him away from his co-workers or just need him to do errands for you—he didn’t mind, really. He adores and loves you too much that everything else didn’t matter anymore.

This doesn’t happened to you before, only now. You knew that there will be someone who’s willing to do everything for your love and attention, to acknowledge them and value your opinion not just a Lieutenant but also as your own person.

No one did ever give you gifts so willingly because they want to, but Leon did—he does, but when it comes to occasions, he makes it extra special.

You wanted to know why he’ doing this, but you know he’ll answer with: “because I love you, and I’m proving myself to you.”

You were love and cared for, you had someone who is truly willing to be with you.

In your whole childhood and teenage years, you never had someone like Leon—they don’t love like him and he doesn’t invalidate your opinion, as a Lieutenant or not.

Leon would often see you zoning out in your paperwork or rest your eyes with a frown stuck in your face, but he knew better. To make you better, buy you more sweets and gifts! That always do the trick, right?

It was late, Leon was tasked to have a night shift—leaving Leon and two few officers in the station with you. The two made a run to stop at a nearby open donut shop to bring you and Leon some snacks and drinks, leaving the rookie and you alone in the station to manage for a while.

He got up from his sit, took out the flower bouquet with chocolates and enter your office. He flashes you with a wide grin and walk towards your desk, “for you” says Leon as he handed the bouquet to you.

You were tired but still manage to smile at him, “thank you, rookie.” You took the gifts from his hands and put it down on the side of your desk, “I would appreciate it if you could just call me by my name, ma’am.”

“why? Rookie is a good name.”

“Ma’am, it’s been a few months. I don’t think I’m still a rookie anymore.”

Raising a brow at him and roll your eyes, “You’re still a rookie to me, Leon.” He smiles and scratched the back of his neck, “although you don’t have to keep giving me gifts. Aren’t this expensive?”

Leon tilt his head in confuse, don’t you like it? If you hate it, Leon could replace you a new one, all you have to do is ask.

“You don’t like it?” his tone low and meek, as if he’s a sad puppy who didn’t get it’s desired treat. His treat is a smile on your face, but he guess that it won’t be happening.

You sigh and lean back on your chair to relax your sore back, “it’s not that, I love it. I appreciate all the gifts you sneak in, but I think it’s just too much..?” those words were unsure, Leon doesn’t know how to approach that.

He doesn’t understand, is he not proving himself?

“I-I’m sorry…” you stammer and brush your hair back, “it’s just… uhm…” words can’t even describe how you would approach this situation or can’t describe what you are feeling. You feel love, cared for and everything above that Leon makes you feel.

So, why isn’t it enough?

It is enough.

“I am just not used to being gifted with so many things,” you start and take a deep breath, “I feel love and cared for, Leon and thank you for that.” He smiles and leans closer, he sat on a chair and rest his elbows on to your desk and rest his chin to his palms.

“Aren’t you given gifts when you’re young?” Leon asked, his blue warm eyes searching answers in yours, you reach for his hand and started tracing random things in his skin with your fingertip.

“I did, but… Not this much, not this much love that you give.” You smiled, Leon was confused. He kept his mouth shut until you’re ready to express yourself, “you know, Leon… You’re the only person who would do anything for my attention and opinion.”

Leon nodded, agreeing to what you’re saying. You smiled, but your eyes looked sad to Leon, “when I was a child, I get constantly ignored because of my siblings. In my teenage years, people would ignore what I say and don’t take my opinion.”

You rant your life to Leon, and he lend an ear to listen to what shit you’ve gone through—how shitty your childhood is and how much of a hell you went through your teenage years. You share family problems and just let it all out, you saw nothing but sympathy in Leon’s eyes. He squeeze your hand every time it was too much for you to bear until you went to his lap as he comforts you with his touch.

“My Mother told me that I have no right to be angry, no right to sulk and make my problem a big deal. Because they were my ‘parents’ and they were my elders and I have to give them my respect…” you mutter, his uniform is almost soaked with your tears as you sniffle.

“that’s why I became a Lieutenant, to have my opinion heard and be valid to other people.” You sniffle, “I’m not used to the affection you’re giving me, rookie. I thought it was just admiration because I’m a Lieutenant, I never have thought you’d like me for me…”

“There, there…” Leon coos, his fingers brushing your hair and his other hand caressing your hip. His lips on the crown of your head, “I understand,” Leon smiled and lift a hand and wipe your tear away.

“Let’s just take this nice and slow, hm?” you nod to his words.

“Until you’re ready, I’m with you.”

“Even if I turn into a worm?” that was a dumb question, you’re a Lieutenant, why are you asking this kind of things to Leon?

He chuckle and made you look into his eyes, “I would still love you even if you turn into a worm, I could even build you a tiny house and bring you small little gifts.”

You chuckle at his words, your forehead in the crook of his neck and that’s the moment you knew that you got yourself a keeper.

“Until you’re ready, I’m with you. Always.”

MY BRAIN IS MUSHED, I COULDN'T THINK ANOTHER SCENE WTF HXJWHDJSHS I HOPE THIS DID WELL????

[starrylothcat]

I come bearing gift 🥳 (aka filthy fic prompts 👀)

Can I request "I'm either joining or watching, you pick." with Hunter 😘

Oh my goodness, this took me way longer than I anticipated!

(No) Vacancy

🔥Hunter x Female!Reader One-Shot🔥

Summary: Hunter hears you calling out for him, and he’s ready to answer. 5800 words.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Minors DNI. Female masturbation, PiV sex, oral, slight overstimulation? Pure smut.

Author’s Note: Uhhh this one got away from me and is pure, PURE self indulgent smut. Hunter is rotting me inside and out. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!

@wizardofrozz I think you sent me this prompt? If not, true person reveal yourself! But I hope you like it! 🥺👉👈 I slightly edited the prompt in the fic. Thanks for the request!!!

Thank you @wanderer-six and @mylifeisactuallyamess for proof-reading this nonsense. ❤️

“Well, it’s no royal Naboo palace, but it’ll do.” You observed the outside of the dingy inn as you slipped your hood off your head.

It was tucked away in a dark, grimy corner of a seedy town you were dispatched to by Cid.

A neon “No Vacancy” sign flickered on and off, half the letters dark. The road leading up to it was completely empty except for you and Clone Force 99, who were illuminated by the fading neon lights.

You raised an eyebrow at Hunter, who gave a small shrug as you checked the map on your datapad, making sure this was the right place.

“I’d rather stay on The Marauder…or take my chances on the streets.” Echo huffed, a look of disdain on his face as he walked up beside Hunter, both clad in civilian clothes, as were the rest of you.

“Aww, it can’t be that bad! At least we get our own rooms! I can’t remember the last time that happened, if ever!”

Wrecker grasped Tech’s shoulder, giving it a hearty shake in elation as Tech tried to hold on to his goggles, his body being heaved back and forth.

Wrecker was overjoyed at the thought of a real bed and space to spread out, as was Omega.

“I’ve never had an entire room to myself before!” She buzzed with excitement, not caring about the rundown appearance of the inn.

“It is the most logical situation, if we are to gather any intel for Cid.” Tech gave a quick glare to Wrecker, who had released his poor shoulder. He adjusted his goggles. “If we act as travelers we won’t attract as much attention, even if the state of this lodging is…less than desirable. But I will be honest in stating it will be nice to have a sleep uninterrupted by snoring.”

Tech gestured at Wrecker, his goggles reflecting the flashing neon sign of the lodge as he looked down at his datapad.

“Hey, I don’t snore that loud!” Wrecker pouts, crossing his arms. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one hearing it.” Echo scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Alright boys, enough.” Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s only for a few nights, and we can all agree that even though this place isn’t…grand by any means, it’s better than nothing. The faster we can find this shipment location, the faster we can get off this planet.” Hunter felt exposed without his armor, and didn’t want to be here any longer than anyone else.

You were all tired from the long journey here. You were stuck on The Marauder for a few days too long, and everyone was on a slight edge, ready for real rest.

You had been sent to this backwater Outer Rim planet by Cid, tasked with gathering intel on the whereabouts of a high-value smuggled shipment. According to her, the parcel was worth enough credits to buy ten Marauders, and then some.

“This is a delicate situation, bandana, and your goon squad attracts a lot of attention. I need you to blend in, and not cause too much trouble, you understand?” Cid said as she gave Hunter an irritated look from behind her desk.

“We’ll try our best.” Hunter frowned, knowing this mission wasn’t going to be as easy as it seemed. It never was.

Cid rolled her eyes. “Well, I know subtlety isn’t your strong suit so I booked you a place to stay, to stake out and listen for any leads. Your ship might cause a stir, especially if you show up in armor, so you’ll be staying here, acting as civilians while you find the location of the shipment.” She slid over a holodisc with coordinates to a small town inn, where you’d be staying. “Try not to mess this one up, okay, broody? If they get a whiff of someone poking their nose around, they will move it and it might be gone for good. There’s a lot of credits at stake here. You best blend in, for your own sake.”

You remembered Hunter trying to argue with Cid, saying being in one place too long without armor was dangerous. But Cid promised there wouldn’t be trouble if you kept your heads down.

“I don’t know about you, but a real shower is enough for me. I guess we finally have something to thank Cid for.” You quipped, trying to stay positive.

The corners of Hunter’s lips formed a tiny smirk at your comment.

“Don't get too excited, even The Marauder has hot water. Most of the time. Can’t guarantee anything at this place.” You gave him a playful look, smirking back.

Hunter dug into one of his pockets, pulling out small cards that allowed you to access your rooms. “Alright, we’ll meet up at the rendezvous spot early tomorrow. We have a lot of ground to cover.” You looked at your access card, a small number indicating your room location.

Looking at the map of the inn, your room was right next to Hunter’s, the rest of the boys and Omega’s room spread throughout the lodging.

You bid goodnight to everyone as they retreated to their rooms, leaving you and Hunter walking to your own. “Do you think this shipment even exists?” You asked, also getting tired of the wild womp rat chases Cid sent you on.

Hunter let out a sigh. “I don’t know. The intel is limited, and I sense Cid isn’t telling us everything. As usual.” You gave him a soft look, knowing look. Hunter was growing tired of working for Cid, and carries a lot of stress over protecting his team and Omega. His dedication to his family was something you admired about him, among many other things.

“At least she coughed up some accommodation this time around.” You said as Hunter gave a grunt, his eyes flicking to yours. “Yeah…we’ll see if the cards even unlock our rooms. If we even have them.” You had reached your individual doors, stopping in front of Hunter’s, yours only a few feet down the hall from his.

You smiled, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Well if your access card doesn’t work, you can always come to my room.” Hunter’s eyes locked on yours as you felt heat blaze up to your cheeks at the realization of what you just said. “Err…I uh… I could stay with Omega and you could take my room is what I meant!” You stuttered, trying to salvage your previous statement.

You cursed yourself internally, knowing Hunter probably sensed your heartbeat increasing. You’ve noticed stumbling your words more often around him. Any time he looked your way, all thoughts exited your head and you could only focus on his deep brown eyes, strong jaw, wide shoulders…

The sound of a door unlocking brought you back to the moment. “Well, it seems like my card works. I guess Cid didn’t stiff us. I’ll have to take you up on that offer another time.” You sucked in your breath, trying to figure out what he meant as he slowly opened his door, but didn’t immediately walk in.

“If you need anything, you know where I am.” Hunter hesitated for a moment, looking at you. What you didn’t know was him having the same thoughts as you, admiring your beauty, secretly wanting to join you in your room, hoping what you claimed was a mistake was actually the truth slipping out.

But he didn’t want to overstep and couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“Yes…uh…goodnight, Hunter.” He nodded, and stepped into his room before he said something he might end up regretting.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you cursed at yourself internally again, accessing your own room. It was small, dinky, and run down, but it was something. The first thing you tested was the shower, and as luck would have it, the water was hot. It was enough to ignore the suspicious stains on the carpet and peeling wallpaper.

You took a long shower, not knowing when you’d have this type of accommodation again, and trying not to think of Hunter, the embarrassment of what you said, but it was getting more difficult.

After your shower you nestled down into the bed, finally able to relax the best you could in these circumstances.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the quiet and relish having a room to yourself, finally having a little private time.

Your mind began to wander back to Hunter, as it always did, as you sank into the creaking bed.

You had been with 99 for a while now, acting as an extra hand on missions, also trying to stay afloat by doing odd jobs for Cid. You ran with a pirate gang for a while, dabbled in bounty work, and now you were here. You got along well with the boys and Omega, and finally felt like you had something good, finally belonged.

As you worked alongside Hunter, you began yearning for his gaze, or his rare, surprisingly warm smile. What started off as a small crush has grown into something more and you knew you were falling for him. You tried to deny it, not wanting these feelings to take hold. But you were giving in to him more and more by the day, giving in to his smoky voice, his strength, his loyalty, his everything.

Did he feel the same way? You weren’t sure. But you knew there was some sort of tension between you and it was growing.

You tried to forget these embarrassing thoughts and just go to sleep. But the walls of the rundown inn were thin, and you heard a shower being turned on in the next room.

Hunter’s room.

Heat crept to your cheeks as your mind began to wander again. You imagined him stripping his clothes, neatly placing them at the base of the bed, his naked muscular form revealing itself as he stepped into the hot water.

Stop. You told yourself. He’s your Sergeant. I shouldn’t be thinking of him this way…. But the image of him in the shower was too tempting, as your hand made its way to the waistline of your sleep shorts.

You couldn’t help but think of him thoroughly rubbing himself down with soap, his muscles rippling under the steamy water as the heat released tension from his body.

You imagined his tattoo going all the way down his torso, to his hip, which deliciously dipped to his muscular thighs, which you thought about your hands gripping often. And what lay between his muscular thighs was what really got your mind spinning. You groaned and adjusted your legs, heat beginning to pool between them.

You shouldn’t be having these thoughts. You respected him. He was your teammate. He was your friend.

But you didn’t stop yourself, beginning to get lost in the fantasy as your hand slipped fully beneath your damp panties.

You imagined Hunter’s wet hair stuck to his body as he moaned, his own hand gripping his hard length as he pleasured himself, thinking of you. Water running down his cut muscle, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he brought himself closer to release.

You began to rub circles around your clit, sighing at the sensation, now imagining yourself with him in that shower, his velvet voice murmuring praises in your ear as he thrusted deep inside of you, his warm, calloused hands squeezing every part of your soft flesh.

You thought you were being quiet, stifling your moans as best you could, knowing the walls were thin and Hunter was right on the other side. Maybe you did want him to hear, so he’d know how you truly felt. The thought of him listening only intensified your pleasure and you picked up the pace of your hand, not noticing that Hunter’s shower had stopped a few minutes ago, or that Hunter was hearing every single sound next door.

At first Hunter didn’t want to believe it was you. He had just laid down, his hair damp from the shower, trying to get comfortable. He knew he should be enjoying an actual bed, but his senses were on high alert in this new space. He didn’t like his brothers being so spread out. At the very least, Wrecker’s room was right next door to Omega’s, so he knew that she would be safe if anything were to happen. He knew he shouldn’t worry, but it was habit.

Another worry plagued his mind: you. His thoughts were also preoccupied with you, as they were almost every waking second.

Hunter was struggling with his feelings for you, knowing he couldn’t ignore them much longer. You were reliable, honest, quick-witted, which amused him knowing you were part of a pirate gang before joining them.

You got along with his brothers and Omega liked you, and that was honestly enough for him. He was thinking more and more about his future with his family, and it was hard to visualize that future without you by his side. That’s how he knew he was in deep.

He had wanted to confess his feelings to you multiple times, but always hesitated. He didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship.

Hunter almost told you how he felt tonight, when you were standing outside your door. Hunter wanted to kiss you, take you up on your offer and follow you into your room, show you how much he really cared. But he paused like he always did, not able to find the right words.

Hunter rubbed his face and sighed, wishing he could just sleep.

A faint sound brought him out of his thoughts, his sensitive ears picking up a small moan. He froze, listening as he caught another sigh that sounded awfully similar to your voice.

Hunter first brushed it off to this hotel being less than reputable, probably someone in the room above him watching something illicit on the Holonet.

He was about to put his pillow over his head to drown it out, trying to get a good night’s sleep, but then he heard a louder gasp. It wouldn’t have been heard by anyone else, but he could hear it. There was no denying it now, it was your voice coming from the other side of the wall you shared. The gasps and sighs sounded like they should be coming from a dirty Holonet program, but they were coming from you, from your lips.

His heart thudded, his entire body suddenly on fire, the realization of what you were doing in your room dawning on him.

Hunter knew he shouldn’t listen, but it was impossible for him not to. More soft moans drifted to his ears, his cock instinctually hardening underneath his pants as he imagined you writhing on your bed, your hand working your wet pussy. Were you thinking about him? Someone else? A pang of jealousy shot through him, followed by another pang of guilt. It felt wrong to intrude like this. You deserve privacy, even with his heightened senses, even if you were thinking of someone other than him.

Again, Hunter was going to put his pillow over his head, trying to ignore his throbbing cock and your delicious mewls, but then he heard you again, this time taking the form of his name.

Hunter thought his heart was going to stop. Did he hear correctly? His senses have never led him astray. He focused, listening intently, secretly hoping he was right. Another quiet moan and he heard his name again.

Hunter’s body reacted immediately, intense desire rushing through his veins, goosebumps covering him head to toe as he heard you calling his name. Something primal was climbing its way out of him, not knowing exactly what his next steps were. You were saying his name. You were thinking of him during your most private moment. You must feel the same way that he did for you? All the nights he yearned for you, wanting you, but not knowing how to tell you, or not knowing if you even felt the same way?

Your soft gasps of his name and his name alone was his answer.

His mind was drunk with lust, his body telling him to go next door and help you finish the job. He sat up on his bed, his instincts overtaking his logical brain, and the next thing he knew, he was right outside your door. You were calling out to him, and he couldn’t deny you any longer.

Before he knocked, he could hear your breathing through the door. Your hitched breath as you were bringing yourself closer to release, his name leaving your lips again. He was certain now.

Hunter was ready to break down the door, he needed to see you. To feel you.

Hunter took a breath to focus himself momentarily, trying to get his breathing and heartbeat under control. But he couldn’t wait any longer, your muffled cries the only thing he could focus on. Before he could change his mind, he quickly knocked. For the first time in his life, Hunter had no plan, his mind totally encompassed by you.

He heard you let out a gasp of surprise, then a curse, and quick shuffling. He heard your footsteps coming toward the door. He said your name, his voice low.

You were getting close, your legs shaking, your hand rubbing at just the right spot around your clit, release imminent, your mind intensely focused on Hunter. A loud knock on your door startled you out of your fantasy.

Kriff, who could that be?! You thought, flustered by the interruption and letting out an audible curse. You quickly took your hand out of your pants, frustrated that your fantasy was cut short.

Then you heard Hunter’s voice say your name. You were startled, adrenaline rushed through your body. Why is he knocking at my door so late at night? Something must be wrong. You adjusted yourself, and walked over to the door, just in your nightclothes, panic starting to rise in your chest, the realization that he was right outside your door. Which means he probably heard you. How long was he standing out there? Oh Maker.

“Uh…Hunter? What’s going on?” You asked through the door, trying to play it casual.

There was a moment of silence. “Open the door. Please.”

His voice was strained. You swallowed and grasped the door handle, turning it to open. You pulled the door toward you, only to be pushed back slightly as Hunter barged inside, closing it quickly behind him, his eyes wild. “Hunter…what…what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

You were nervous, he was acting strange and looked disheveled. He wasn’t wearing his bandana, and dressed only in an undershirt and pants. His hair fell around his face as his gaze bore into you. “I heard…you. From my room.” Was all he could muster.

Hunter could smell your arousal in the air of the room and he was close to snapping, all his pent up desire fogging his brain. He needed you, he needed something.

He…heard me? Does he mean…? Oh kriff.

Your face caught on fire at the realization of what he was saying, wanting to disappear into the floor from total humiliation, never to be seen again. You didn’t know what to say, suddenly worried he was mad at you for keeping him awake, demanding to know why his name was coming from your lips, ready to be kicked off the team for insubordination.

You were completely and utterly mortified. Your mind ran circles, trying to think up any excuse. “Hunter I…I’m sorry…I.. didn’t realize…”

“I heard my name.” Hunter interrupted, as he stepped closer to you, his hands forming fists at his sides, his voice shaking. Once again, you wanted to fall through a hole in the floor. You wanted to run away. “You were thinking of me?” His voice was dangerously low as he looked down on you, unclenching his fisted hands and hesitantly resting them on your waist, pleading to himself he wasn’t misreading this entire situation.

Your body quivered, not stopping him as you realized why he was here. He wasn’t upset. He was here to answer your call.

The look in his eyes was absolutely predatory and you noticed a large bulge in his pants as your eyes flicked up and down his body. You were speechless momentarily, but couldn’t deny the ache that was forming between your legs, your heart rate increasing. “I…yes…I was…” was all you could say, your voice barely a whisper. Hunter’s eyes darkened at your words.It was him you were thinking about. No one else.

“Do you think about me often?” he murmured, his voice close to cracking, intoxicated by your scent.

Hunter could see your chest heaving, hear your heart thudding. He could smell a fresh wave of arousal that caused his body to throb as his cock strained against his waistband. “Yes…” You croaked, trembling under his look. His hands gripped your waist tighter, his confidence growing as you answered truthfully. “I could hear everything, your perfect moans…do you realize how long I’ve wanted you?” Hunter hoarsely whispered, barely holding on, his control slipping.

You felt like you were going to explode at his touch and his words. You brought your hands up to grasp his shoulders, his body radiating heat through his clothes.

Were you dreaming?

“Hunter…” a lusty gasp left your lips, and Hunter almost took you then and there. “Let me help you…” He whispered, lowering his head to your neck, his lips brushing right underneath your earlobe.

“I can either join or watch. Your choice.”

Hunter’s voice was deep, and absolutely desperate.

Him admitting he wanted to watch you continue pleasuring yourself almost made you faint, never hearing something so alluring in your entire life.

This had to be a dream.

The thought of him watching you was tempting, but here he was, offering his entire self to you. Something you’ve wanted for so long. You couldn’t pass it up, not now.

“Join me.”

Your voice trembled as you gave him your answer. Hunter lifted his head from your neck, peering into your eyes, searching for the same need that was in his.

“Are you sure?”

You stuttered the words you’ve been wanting to say for months, not seeing any reason to keep it a secret now. “Maker, Hunter…I do want you…I need the real thing, I need you.” Hunter’s eyes flashed, and he let out an anguished growl as he closed the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy and frenzied kiss, doing what you’ve both wanted for so long. It was better than either of you ever imagined, your need for one another finally let loose.

He deepened the kiss by tilting your head back, cradling the back of your skull with his hand, pressing himself even closer to you. You could feel his hot, hard length against your stomach, his craving for you undeniable.

You melted into him, all your secret desire rushing to the surface, tightening your grip on his muscled shoulders. The fingers of his one hand that was holding the back of your head wrapped in your hair, gently tugging your neck even further back as his lips consumed yours. You let out a moan at the sensation, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, which you eagerly welcomed.

Hunter let out his own gasp as your hands moved from his shoulders to his scalp, your fingernails lightly raking down his crown. You felt like you were floating, the breath completely knocked out of your lungs at his taste and his passion, still not believing he was here, doing this to you.

After what seemed like hours, Hunter reluctantly broke the kiss momentarily, giving you both a chance to catch your breath you didn’t realize you needed.

“I need you, too…” He gasped. “I have for a long time…you have no idea what you do to me, cyar’ika…” Hunter released the back of your head, his warm hands sliding down to your back as he peppered hot, open mouth kisses on your neck. He nipped and sucked at your soft skin, also not believing this was real. If this was real, it felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest at saying out loud how he felt, and hearing that you felt the same way back.

Hunter’s free hand ghosted under your night shirt, and when you didn’t tell him to stop, he brought it up to your breast, squeezing and pinching the sensitive flesh. Your nipples pebbled at the sensation, his skilled fingers rubbing and rolling the hardened nub, your arousal growing more than you thought you could handle.

Hunter’s tongue licked over your jugular, and he could feel your blood pumping under his tongue, tasting the sweat and craving on your skin, stoking the raging fire in him even more as he walked you back toward the edge of the bed.

You felt the back of your knees bump the mattress, and Hunter held you as you slowly laid down, bringing himself with you. He nestled between your legs, kissing you deeply again, his arms caging you in.

You bucked against him, rubbing yourself against his hard bulge, searching for that delicious friction.

He groaned into your mouth, and now it was Hunter’s turn to desperately rut against you, his control now almost completely gone. You were going to be the end of him.

“I need to see all of you, now.” Hunter ordered as he began urgently tugging at your clothes, needing to feel your skin on his. He rolled off of you momentarily, standing up to practically rip his civvies off his body as you did the same on the bed, shimmying out of your sleepwear and tossing them to the side.

He stopped, his mind finding clarity for one moment as he gazed at your body and you at his. Saliva pooled in your mouth at the sight of him, unbelievably defined, broad chest and muscular arms. His cock swollen and girthy between his narrow waist, glistening with precum, begging for relief. Begging for you.

“Beautiful…so beautiful.” He muttered as he climbed on top of you again, still gazing at you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him back down to your body. Your lips met, this time less intense, as Hunter relished your irresistible taste, the taste he’s been dreaming of. He swallowed every gasp that left your lips, the kiss heating up again as you grasped the sides of his head, your soft skin moving against his hard, battle-scarred body as he rubbed his length against your soaking entrance.

But there was another taste he wanted, needed or he thought he was going to implode.

Hunter pulled himself away from you as a whine left your lips, already missing his touch.

He moved down your body, kissing down your neck, collarbone, stopping at your breasts to take each sensitive nipple in his mouth for brief attention before continuing on. He slid backwards off you until he was kneeling on the ground at the base of the bed. “I want to taste how much you want me.” He growled as he grasped your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed, throwing your legs over his shoulders, causing you to yelp at how easily he was manhandling you.

You knew what he was about to do, but that didn’t prepare you for how his mouth felt as he began desperately lapping at your cunt, absolutely devouring you as your hands clenched the sheets for dear life as louder and louder moans escaped from deep in your chest. You couldn’t speak as you were quickly reaching your peak for the second time that night.

Hunter was completely lost now, having your arousal on his tongue, his face pressed in the source of your longing. His cock ached almost painfully, but it had to wait. He wanted you to feel how much he wanted you.

Hunter swirled his tongue around your clit, never wanting this moment to end. He could stay between your legs for the rest of his life, lapping at your juices and hearing every single choked cry that caught in your throat as he hummed against your core in his own daze. He felt your hands suddenly grasping at his hair, tugging as you cried out that you were close, gasping his name. Hunter continued his feast as your body thrashed, intense pressure building in your lower abdomen. With one more long lick, your orgasm washed over you, your back arching off the bed, Hunter’s name a ragged cry as he worked you through your release, not wanting to miss a single drop.

He finally lifted his head from between your thighs, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You blushed at his words as he climbed back on top of you lost in a haze of passion and pure animal instinct. “Ready?” He muttered, still making sure you were okay with this, with him, as he kissed you, tasting yourself on his lips.

“Hunter, I need you inside me right now, please…I need you…”

You couldn’t wait any longer. You had to feel him inside of you.

Your pleads were all he needed to hear as he pushed in to your entrance, holding back every atom in his body that wanted to slam in to you and fuck you senseless. But he didn’t want to hurt you, though his composure was crumbling.

You could feel all the muscles in Hunter’s body tense as he slowly slid in, the sensation of your velvety muscle gliding against him almost making him cum right then and there, his senses completely overloaded.

Hunter bottomed out and brought his forehead to yours, his breath shaking and labored. “You feel incredible…” His tone was low, barely audible. Hunter waited for a moment, feeling you around him, hearing your breathing, inhaling your sweet aroma, still hoping this wasn’t a dream as he let you get used to him inside you, the anticipation ready to rip him apart.

You moved your hips slightly, telling him it was okay to continue, knowing what he wanted.

He nodded wordlessly and began rolling his hips slowly into yours. The feeling of him finally inside you, stretching your walls, took your breath away. Hunter let out a moan so lewd you knew it would be burned into your memories forever.

You locked your ankles around his waist, adjusting the angle of his cock as he moved in you. “You can go faster, Hunter. I want you to fuck me.”

That predatory glint in his eye returned at your bold statement as he increased his pace, your words fueling him.

It was Hunter’s turn to grasp the sheets around your head as he got lost in pleasure, grinding himself in to you, his eyes screwed shut and his head right against yours, his shaking moans escaping his lips right at your ear. Hunter’s senses were completely shot now.

Your taste, smell, sounds…every nerve in his body felt like it was charged with electricity, a current running down his spine as he focused on nothing but you.

Hunter was hitting a spot so deep you couldn’t formulate any thoughts, your own whimpers and gasps growing louder and more desperate.

You could feel another orgasm building, the pressure of his pelvis on yours rubbing on just the right spot. Your hands grasped at the back of his head as your body shook, getting closer to your release.

He was driving himself into you, his control finally gone. The intensity of his thrusts made your mind melt, you had never felt this way with anyone ever before.

Hunter was pressing frantic kisses to the side of your mouth, getting close himself as he fucked you in to the shaking bed.

You could barely make out the jumble of praises he was uttering on your lips between thrusts. “Let go for me…I won’t last much longer…you’re so beautiful like this…”

Hunter’s fervid hips and passionate words brought you to your peak, your orgasm spreading like a tidal wave over your body, your nails digging into Hunter’s skull and he continued to fuck you senseless, his name a chant in the heavy air of the room.

Hunter let out a strained growl as his hips stuttered into yours, your final pinnacle bringing him to his own end as he felt your walls clench around him. “Wh-where?” He gasped as your head lolled against the pillow, trying to keep your eyes open. “Inside.” Your hoarse statement was all he needed to hear as pleasure ripped through his body, pressing impossibly deep into you, his body vibrating with every intense sensation imaginable.

With a final drive of his hips, Hunter collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight. For a few moments, it was silent except for your combined gasps, desperate to get air back in your lungs from the exertion.

Your mind was still trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. Hunter was on top of you? Naked? Still inside you? Was it time to wake up from this dream? Hunter lifted his head, looking at you. “I hope the real thing was as good as you imagined.” His voice was soft, his hair sticking to his forehead, glistening with sweat. You’ve never seen him so breathless.

“It was better than good.” You exhaled, still trying to catch your own breath.

Hunter lifted himself up off of you, rolling to the side, feeling slightly dizzy as the electric buzz in his body began to fade as his senses returned to normal. Hunter hummed and brought his hands behind his head, laying on his back. You were silent again for a few moments, but it was comfortable.

“You know,” he finally rumbled, “This place isn’t half bad. I wouldn’t mind if we had to stay a few extra nights.” His eyes flicked to yours, hoping you’d catch his meaning.

“Though I might have to move rooms if my neighbor continues to be so loud. Won’t get any sleep with such a distraction.”

You smiled and rolled on your side toward him. “Hmm, pretty sure I saw the “No Vacancy” sign out front. But I think we can work something out.”

Hunter let out a chuckle at your response, rolling to face you, his face softening.

“I’d like it if we could work something out.”

You smiled at his gentle words, a blush forming on your cheeks. “Me too.”

Hunter pulled you against him, wrapping his body around yours. “Can’t promise you’ll get any sleep in this room, though.” You muttered against his warm body.

Hunter smirked as he brought his lips to yours for a meaningful kiss.

“If it means being with you, it’s worth it.”

[oswildin]

Not Just A Passenger (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Summary: You and The Mandalorian have a complex relationship. He got under your skin, and you felt he didn’t trust you. However, slowly you begin to realise and understand it wasn’t that at all… It was quite the opposite.

Warnings: Violence/Injury, Confessions, Fluff, Angst, Takes place around season one

A/N: My first Mandalorian fic! It’s a bit rough round the edges, I just wanted to write something fluffy and cliche lol. Enjoy!

You had a love/hate relationship with The Mandalorian. You loved how he cared for the kid and how he was protective of him. You loved how his humour was dry and sarcastic. You loved his general broody personality. However, you hated that he seemingly didn’t trust you completely. You hated how he treated you like a passenger, not an equal. You hated how he would order you around and not listen to what you had to say. Sure, it was his ship, his mission… But you were apart of it. You were there to help.

The two of you often butted heads, causing arguments and dramatics which often made the kid watch you both with sad eyes. You never meant to upset the kid, but sometimes Mando just… He got under your skin. Peli witnessed one of your many arguments once whilst she was doing some maintenance on the Crest.

“I’m here too you know!” You exclaimed, looking up at Mando’s helmet. “I can help! Why won’t you let me?”

“It’s dangerous.” Mando simply stated, his voice still calm but with a hint of irritation.

“Duh!” You shook your head. “Do you think I think this is all for fun?” You gestured around you in a dramatic fashion, seeing Peli holding the kid off to the side who was making disgruntled little gurgles. “What are you so worried about? Have I not proven myself?” Mando went silent, letting out a sigh as he hung his head for a second.

“Can we do this later?” He dismissed himself, walking off as he gave a glance at Peli, before walking away.

“Ugh.” You grumbled, refraining from kicking a nearby scrap of metal in frustration. Peli glanced down at the kid before walking towards you.

“Yikes.” She raised her brows. “Trouble in paradise?” You scoffed, turning to look at her. “Don’t think this little one enjoys seeing Mummy and Daddy fight.” She bounced him up and down as you frowned, shaking your head quickly.

“No. We’re not-“ You almost laughed. “I’m not exactly mother material.” You landed on, as the kids ears lowered slightly, causing your heart to ache. “Look kid, nothing against you, it’s just-“ You paused. “God, he is so annoying.” You went back to Mando, shaking your head. Peli smirked.

“Seems like he really gets under your skin.”

“Yes! That’s exactly it.” You let out a breath. “He doesn’t trust me. And it’s obvious.” You slumped down, sitting on a nearby crate. Peli joined you, with the kid still watching intently.

“I don’t think our friend trusts many people.” She offered. “But, do you really think that’s the problem here?” You frowned, giving her a confused stare.

“Well, what else would it be?”

“Maybe…” She paused. “Maybe he’s just protective of you.” You took in her words, before raising a brow.

“Protective of me?” You almost scoffed. “The kid? Sure. Anyone can see that. But me?” You shook your head. “He treats me like I’m… I’m his subordinate. I want to be his equal.”

“Have you ever told him that?”

“Not outright.” You lowered your voice. The kid reached out for you, causing you to take him from Peli’s grip, as you held him on your lap, looking down as he stared up at you. “Besides, once this little one gets to where he needs to be, I don’t think there will be much reason for me to stay.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Mando returned after an hour or so, thanking and paying Peli for the work as he silently entered the ship, leaving you and the kid to follow. Great. He was still sulking. Sighing to yourself, you followed, going to put the kid down to rest as he was clearly getting tired. Once you’d put him down, you reluctantly headed to the front of the ship, joining Mando as he sat in the pilots seat, getting the ship ready for take off.

“So, are we going to talk about earlier or?” You asked, arms folded over your chest as you stood leant against the doorway. Mando stayed silent for a second, before speaking.

“There isn’t anything to talk about.”

“Yes there is.” You took a step towards him, wanting him to turn to face you. “I’m tired of being treated like… Well, like the kid.” You pursed your lips. “I’m not helpless, I can defend myself, I can help you, so use me.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Except, that’s exactly what ended up happening.

You were ambushed. Thankfully the kid was safe, hiding away in the Crest, but as soon as you both stepped off the ship, bounty hunters had you surrounded. Mando quickly sprung into action, firing at the hunters and using hand on hand combat to fight them off. You grabbed your own blaster, shooting at anyone who came near you. Looking up from your position, you looked over to see a Hunter coming up behind Mando whilst he was distracted by two other hunters. Your eyes widened, as the hunter behind Mando raised his dagger. Before you could react quick enough, the dagger caught Mando’s un-armoured neck, creating a slash. You blasted the hunter before approaching, stepping over the dead bodies before you as you shot the other two he had been fighting. Rage and fear consumed you. He was still standing, but you could see he was running on adrenaline. Satisfied you were safe, well as safe as you could be, you approached him.

“Mando…” You looked at him wearily, as he turned. You could hear his ragged breaths through his helmet. “Get inside.” You ordered him, to which he hesitated. “Mando!” You exclaimed, getting him moving. You could see his body becoming weaker in front of you, as you ushered him inside the ship once again, closing the door behind you.

“I’m… Fine.” He tried to wave you off, to which you ignored, immediately grabbing a med kit. As you turned, you watched as he stumbled into the wall, slowly falling down as he sat, leant against the cold metal of the ship. You rushed to him, gently tilting his head to see blood staining his under garments material. Unhooking his cape from around his neck and shoulders, you gently rolled down the neck of his shirt to reveal the wound. Whilst the wound was bleeding a lot, it didn’t seem to have got any main arteries.

“Maker-“ You breathed out, quickly opening the med kit. You grabbed some cloths as you pressed on the wound, muttering an apology as he hissed at the contact. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but it’s pretty nasty.” You told him softly.

“It’s fine.” He huffed out, trying to move, which led to you pushing him back.

“Mando, please… Let me do this.” You almost pleaded, your eyes trying to find his own behind the helmet. He hesitated before giving in, staying out. “It needs tending to.” You told him quietly. Grabbing the bacta bandage, gently placing it over the wound, smoothing it down as Mando let out a breath. “How do you feel?” You asked.

“Fine.” He tried as you stared at him in a stern manner. “No fever, just a bit worse for wear.” He landed on.

“Good.” You sighed, leaning back. “You lost a bit of blood, so you’ll probably need to rest. Whether you’ll listen to me or not…” You peered down, tidying up the med kit. You could feel his stare on you.

“Thank you.” He told you softly. You didn’t say anything as you moved to put away the kit. Mando took a second before slowly getting up, still leaning on the wall for support. You grabbed a nearby cloth as you wiped your hands, seeing specks of dried blood on your fingers. That was too close. He could’ve died. He was lucky the hunter had shit aim. Even with a dagger and such close proximity. What would you have done? If anything happened…

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

Mando’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You turned to him, furrowing your brows.

“Or that I don’t think you’re capable.” He continued, sighing.

“Then why?” You stepped towards him. “What is it that makes you treat me the way you do?” A moment passed.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” He admitted, causing your heart to stop for a second. You stared at him with slightly widened eyes, your mouth slightly open. “You and the kid…” He paused. “You’re my responsibility.” Your features softened at his words, as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Mando-“

“Din.” He said. “My name is Din.” You couldn’t help the small smile that graced your lips.

“Din…” You let his name roll off your tongue. “You’re my responsibility too.” You said gently. “I worry about you. I want to help. As I keep saying…” You let out a breath. “You don’t need to feel like you’re the only one who has to look out for us all.”

“But it’s my job.” At his words you walked to him. He watched you closely. You pursed your lips before biting the bullet, deciding to wrap your arms around his armour, holding him in a hug. He tended for a second, clearly not used to the affection. However, after his tense stature dissolved, he relaxed, putting a loose arm around your back, accepting the comfort you were offering.

“No.”

Din tapped the kids hand gently, waving him away from your bowl of soup. For such a small thing, he didn’t half eat a lot. Laughing, you moved your soup slightly away from the kid.

“You can have the meat.” You told him as Din tilted his head at you as if to say ‘you’re too soft on him’. Picking out some of the meat from your bowl, you placed it in the kids hands as he gurgled happily before scoffing it down. Shaking your head at his antics, you took your own spoonful of soup to your mouth.

“We’ll set off soon.” Din told you, eyes behind the helmet roaming the room. You could see he was on high alert. His shoulders were tense, his hand resting on his blaster. “Can’t risk staying here too long.”

“Do you ever just… relax?” You asked, placing another piece of meat in the kids hands. Din turned to look at you.

“When I’m not a target, yes.” He breathed out, causing you to raise a brow.

“Hmmm…” You hummed in disbelief. “Why don’t I believe you?” He ignored your question. “Your vibe doesn’t quite give off ‘I’m capable of relaxing’.”

“My vibe?” He frowned behind his helmet.

“Yeah… You know… Your energy.” You shrugged. “It’s kinda uptight.” A hint of teasing was in your tone, causing him to shake his head at you. Before he could reply, commotion erupted outside, causing you to quickly grab the kid, and draw him to you. Din instantly got to his feet, hearing shouting.

“Out the back.” He ordered, as you did what he said, knowing the priority was getting the kid safe. He ushered you through the bar, a gentle hand on your back as he kept looking over his shoulder, seeing figures beginning to enter. “I counted three.” He told you as you finally made it outside behind the bar, standing in an alley. “Go, take the kid to the ship.” He turned back to you. “Go round the outskirts.” You paused, looking at him for a second, ready to argue, but he quickly jumped in. “I’ll be fine.” Sighing, you did as he said, pulling out your blaster as you quietly shifted through the alley, checking around you.

Thankfully, you’d made it out of the city without seeing anyone. Relief filled you as you spotted the Crest a few metres away. Peering down at the big dark eyes of the kid, he made a little sound as you reassured him Din would be ok. Running towards the Crest, you held the kid tightly. However, as you finally got close to the ship, a figure appeared from round the side of it, a blaster sound causing you to look round. Gasping, you aimed your blaster up at him, shooting him in the chest as he fell to the ground. Opening the door to the Crest, you quickly made your way inside, ensuring the kid was safe as you placed him in his mobile cot. Looking down at him, you furrowed your brows as you saw his ears lowered, and his eyes looking worried. His gaze fell, head tilting as your own gaze followed his, looking down to see blood seeping through your shirt.

Suddenly, it was like it hit you all at once. The pain hit you. What happened hit you. The damn Hunter had got you with his shot. Pressing your hand to your side, you swore under your breath, gritting your teeth.

“I’m fine.” You told the kid, letting out a breath as you moved to grab the med kit. Your legs suddenly felt like jelly, causing you to fall forwards, catching yourself before face planting the metal floor. Rolling to your back, you could feel your skin begin to sweat.

Din made his way into the ship, frowning as he saw the kid in his cot, looking concerned. His head finally snapped over to your direction, seeing you playing on the floor, unconscious. His heart stopped in his chest as he feet immediately took him to your form.

“(Y/N)…” He called out to you, kneeling beside you as he spotted the blood on your side. He looked over your face, seeing your skin looking more dull than usual, and beads of sweat on your forehead. Grabbing the med kit that was beside you on the floor, he hurried to open it. He didn’t hesitate as he gently lifted your shirt just above your wound, seeing a clear blaster shot. He felt rage and fear consume him. “You’re gonna be ok.” He was telling himself more than your unconscious self.

Gasping out a breath, you felt a shot of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You reached out, grabbing onto the nearest thing… Din. He was knelt beside you, fear consuming his features as he looked down at you.

Wait…

“Din…” You let out a breath, throat dry. He furrowed his brows, gently reaching for your hand as he took it in his own.

“You’re ok.” He said softly, eyes searching your own.

His eyes.

Not a helmet.

“Din- Your… Your helmet.” You uttered out in shock, turning your gaze away quickly as you processed what was happening.

Din had removed his helmet. You saw his face. You had seen his eyes. His features…

“It’s ok.” He reassured you. “I-I removed it.” He clarified, causing you to frown.

“Why?” You still didn’t look, out of respect.

“You’re hurt.” He squeezed your hand. “I thought-“ He cleared his throat, lowering his head for a moment.

“Damn Hunter… Came out of nowhere.” You grunted. “I should’ve checked-“

“Don’t do that.” He almost scolded. “Don’t- Just, focus on healing. Don’t think about it. The kids fine.” He paused. “You can look you know.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, slowly turning your gaze back to his own.

He was… Handsome. To say the least.

“But your creed…” You whispered.

“I thought I’d lost you.” He admitted, causing your heart to skip a beat. “That’s more important to me.”

“So…” You let out a breath. “I’m not just a passenger?” You raised a brow, causing him to shake his head, tightening his grip on your hand.

“Not just a passenger.”

It was safe to say, it was no longer and love/hate feeling you had towards Din.

[keepingitsimple3]

There are many people that tell you all the time that as a Christian you are not allowed to be angry! You should be happy because you have the love of Jesus in your heart and so nothing should bother you!

As a Christian myself I feel like this gives a lot of people the impression that Christians are part of a cult or even have to fake being happy all the time. Because the truth is we are human, we have feelings. God designed is with feelings.

If we are angry cause a slew of people were hurting our feelings at our job, we are angry! If we are sad about someone dying, we are sad! If we are genuinely happy about something, then we are happy! When we are hungry, we get really really hungry! We feel these emotions, we were born with emotions. Even Jesus had emotions in many verses

John 11:35- “Jesus Wept”

John 2:15-“and when he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen; and poured out the changers' money, and overthrew the tables;”

“And when he had fasted forty days and forty nights, he was afterward an hungred.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭4‬:‭2‬ ‭KJV‬‬

Etc.

Jesus was God and Man! He felt all the emotions! He was not just the person who was like a ken doll where he did not feel any emotions! He Wept for Lazarus, he was angry at the changers in his Father’s temple, he hungered after forty days! All these things he felt!

So my friends, don’t ever apologize for being sad or feeling angry or feeling overwhelmed or frustrated or whatever your feeling. God understands your pain, your emotions and what your feeling in your heart! You have nothing to feel sorry for! Many people in the Bible even who were good people have felt what you feel!

Plus you don’t always have to be perfect! No Christian in the Bible was perfect either!

All these characters had flaws but God was the one who chooses them and uses them for his glory! He didn’t have to, he could have chosen someone else but he didn’t! Even after some of these PE apple sinned he still choosed them! So what does that tell use?

God doesn’t care if you’re not the perfect Christian!

He doesn’t call us to be perfect just Christ like in our character which we can develop as we walk in the Lord. He just wants a relationship with us!

Now, Will you stumble and fall into sin? Yes! Will you get frustrated at him at times or cry when things get too tiring or frustrating? Yes! Will it be hard? Yes!

But it doesn’t mean he won’t be there for you! He just wants you to tell your problems to him, whatever they are, and wants you to talk about it with him and be patient with him because that’s what a relationship is! It’s open communication! And we shouldn’t be afraid to talk to him.

So Christian, don’t change yourself unless God convicts you to change some part of you, because he will and it is for the better! After all Paul was killing Christians and became a Christian himself lol! Moses was a murderer but then lead a people to a new life!

Still, don’t let others define who you are or tell you who God wants you to be! Let God tell you, let home speak to you and tell you what needs to be done in your relationship with him!

And don’t be afraid to go to him and tell him how you feel! Because he wants you to do that! He’s our father and as a parent he wants to know how you feel! And he wants to wipe away those tears and those sorrows and help you calm down when you are angry! You just have to talk to him, or pray to him or read about him or even write a prayer journal to him!

That’s all you have to do!

So if anyone out here needs this, I hope this helps! And if this helps, I’m going through the same boat! So don’t feel like your lost at sea in your own boat! Look around you! We are all in the same boat and are here for you!

‭

[isfjmel-phleg]

About a decade ago, I read The White Feather and found myself relating a lot to its protagonist, R. D. Sheen. Shy, lacking confidence, unable to handle confrontation, more studious than athletic, and getting lectured by everyone about how you Just Need To Stop Being Like That.

Now, after a lot of personal changes and a year and a half of therapy, I reread the book for the first time in quite a while (ever since the Nightmare Class, reading PGW is not the joy it used to be, so I haven't engaged much with his works in years). And I still found myself understanding Sheen, but now also deeply frustrated that almost no one is really helping him with a problem that is not of his own making but the product of a toxic culture that the narrative seems to accept without question.

And there's no intentional malice in what Wodehouse is depicting. It's clear that he--at least at the time when he wrote this book, in his mid-twenties--too was steeped in this culture and never thought to question it. It was the way of the world. It was what society expected of men. It was an absolutely disastrous mindset, as history shows us.

Wodehouse's school stories tend to take a light-hearted view of the British public school experience, and in general that is their strength. But The White Feather differs from the others in that it depicts a darker side of such schools--and perhaps the most messed-up thing about it is that the narrative doesn't fully realize how mesed up it truly is.

We’re introduced to our protagonist—no, we aren’t. Not right away. Sheen isn’t even mentioned in the entire first chapter, which is a conversation between three characters who barely appear at all for the rest of the story, discussing the abysmal state of Wrykyn’s football (rugby) team. This ties this story with the first novel set at Wrykyn, The Gold Bat, whose protagonists are among the people talking here, but for a reader coming to this book with no knowledge of earlier stories, it’s a bit jarring, and one might be tempted to skip this chapter altogether. But its presence indicates the narrative’s priorities. We are not primarily here to concentrate on an individual alone; we must constantly bear in mind that the honor of the school is in potential crisis as long as its athletic record this year is less than stellar. It establishes the nature of the setting. School before all else. Reputation and superiority before all else. Athletics before all else. These are the kind of boys (and men, a teacher appears too) that populate this all-male environment, and this is what they value.

Then, and only then, can we meet Sheen and see how badly he fails to live up to the school culture’s ideal. This utter disgrace of an excuse for a human being has committed numerous crimes, including preferring to stay indoors, being a loner with almost no friends, shunning athletics (except fives, a form of handball, which apparently isn’t athletic enough), concentrating on studies as he prepares for an examination to earn a scholarship, and being afraid of giving offense to the point that he cannot handle confrontation at all. The narrative is sympathetic enough to Sheen, in a pitying sort of way, but it’s made clear that he has problems that need to be addressed. And that’s true enough. Sheen needs self-confidence. He needs to learn how to better manage his social anxiety and handle conflict so that others won’t walk all over him as they tend to.

An important thing that we don’t learn is exactly why Sheen is this way. We know next to nothing about his home life. We don’t even know his given name, the name that would only be used by family and perhaps the closest friends. We find out that he has a dog at home, and there’s a reference that suggests that he might have a sister, but we know nothing about his parents. We don’t even know if he has parents. He is never seen writing to his family, not even when the entire school quits speaking to him. He is never seen thinking or worrying about what his parents might think of him or his school performance. We might be able to infer something from his asking Jack Bruce, “Doesn’t your father mind your motoring?”–as if he expects a father to be the sort of person who disapproves of one’s hobbies and interests. Whatever the case may be, Sheen’s behavior cannot have come out of nowhere. It points to a likelihood that he was raised in an environment where his guardians were authoritarian, expected complete subjection, and valued children being seen and not heard—to an extent even greater than the typical late Victorian / Edwardian family. Sheen has evidently learned from a young age that the best way to survive is to comply, lie low, and not venture too far into anything unfamiliar and potentially dangerous.

This boy certainly has my sympathy. He does not have my contempt. These are not behaviors that one consciously chooses to adopt out of some kind of moral failing. But the narrative, by leaving out whatever story explains why Sheen is the way he is, seems to imply that it is his fault that he falls short of the schoolboy ideal, and the kind of people who surround him reinforce this perspective. Sheen has had only a few friendships, all of which have been basically transactional. Stanning only wants Sheen around when he needs someone to play the piano at forbidden house parties off-campus—having a musician on hand was quite a commodity in the days before radios and music streaming services etc. And then there’s Drummond, who views Sheen as both a mystery and basically a project. Sheen chooses to develop this friendship because he sees in Drummond what he himself wishes to be and hopes that whatever Drummond has will rub off on him. Neither of these relationships are built on genuine camaraderie, trust, care for each other, etc., and it’s clear that they’re doing Sheen more harm than good. Stanning invades Sheen’s study to taunt his studiousness, call him a "worm" for staying in, call him “flabby as a dough-nut” for not playing sports, and then try to convince him to come to another house party. Sheen does not want to do this again after a previous bad experience, but Stanning embarrasses him into admitting that he doesn’t want to go because he’s afraid. The narrative understands that Stanning is a jerk and a horrible “friend,” but when Drummond, whom we’re supposed to see as the more admirable person, enters, he basically does the same thing.

Drummond chases off a couple of boys who have decided to get themselves a free tea by showing up to Sheen’s study and acting like they were invited, taking advantage of his reluctance to stand up for himself. He lectures Sheen about the importance of looking out for himself lest others walk all over him. “It’s for your own good,” he declares. “And it’s really pure slackness that’s the cause of it all.” Sheen tries to counter that he hates hurting people’s feelings, and Drummond dismisses this by claiming that no one at the school has any feelings. He then leaves to run off a younger student who has the audacity to use the bathtub when Drummond wants it—and pokes his head back in to Sheen’s study to brag about how his system of assuming that no one at the school, especially not younger students, has feelings is so much superior to how Sheen would have handled it.

This is not the behavior of a friend. He is not encouraging Sheen to improve himself; he is using his disdain for Sheen’s timidity to feel better about himself. Yes, Sheen does need to develop a backbone. But what has this boy done to deserve the hatefulness with which everyone around him treats him?

The inciting incident comes when there’s an ongoing fight in the neighboring town between Wrykyn boys and some local youths, kind of about politics but mostly about having an excuse for violence. Drummond and Sheen happen to be out during one of these confrontations. The expectation is to just join in with their schoolmates. Drummond eagerly leaps in. Sheen panics and questions the advisability of fighting. And then he walks away as fast as he can. Back in his study, he tries to argue with himself that he did the right thing—he’s in the sixth form and the headmaster disapproves of such behavior from the older boys, there’s no reason for him to get involved in a fight not his own, he wasn’t a coward but rather kept his head better than Drummond!

And the thing is…he’s right. The fight with the town boys was stupid and pointless. He was the only schoolboy there with any sense for getting out. He didn’t know what the fight was really about. He had no personal stakes in it. He was not in any immediate danger or protecting anyone in danger. There is absolutely zero rational reason for him to get involved. He has done nothing wrong.

But the narrative and Sheen’s conscience, steeped in schoolboy culture, don’t see it that way. Sheen is filled with shame as he realizes that “He had been afraid, and had shown it. And he had shown it when, in a sense, he was representing the school, when Wrykyn looked to him to help it keep its end up against the town.” And thus “He had disgraced himself. He had disgraced Seymour’s. He had disgraced the school. He was an outcast.” The priority, according to these values, is reputation and a sense of honor that depends on proving superiority at all costs. Ethics don’t matter. Reason doesn’t matter. Schoolboys are put on this earth to make their house, their school, whatever group they’re part of, be the best, which can only be proven by winning. The point and purpose of a conflict doesn’t matter, as long as one participates and preferably emerges victorious. And woe to anyone who does not conform.

This is a typical mindset of that culture at that time. You could even argue that it led to World War I (which is where all these boys are headed anyway in another seven years). It is clearly destructive. And in this story, we are seeing how destructive it is on a much smaller scale. Sheen is beating himself for making a completely normal and sensible choice. And when Stanning spreads the word, the whole school is outraged, viewing Sheen’s walking out as a moral failing on his part and—even worse!—the part of his house. Everyone is incredibly invested in what this overlooked loner does and does not do all of a sudden. No one questions the outright lies that Stanning elaborates the story with. Younger students call names and throw things at Sheen’s study door, and the older students—“the senior day-room,” a sort of all-powerful student council that can go so far as to “court-martial” anyone who strays from the unspoken rules—decide to “cut him dead,” that is, refuse to speak to him or acknowledge his existence. When Sheen tries to visit Drummond to talk over what happened, Drummond orders him to get out, and the friendship ends there. We’re supposed to see Drummond as a good guy for not ratting Sheen out and shushing the boys of their dormitory who are harassing Sheen. But that’s the bare minimum of decency. The refusal to interact with him is not the behavior of a true friend.

But there is one person who is a friend to Sheen even when no one else will be: Jack Bruce. Bruce, as a day boy (not a boarder) on the Engineering side of the school (most of the boys are on the Classics side), is somewhat socially detached from the rest of the school and rejects the popularity that he could have on the grounds of his father’s importance as a prominent local politician. Like Sheen, he’s a loner who’s quiet by nature. He shows up in the music room to listen to Sheen practicing piano, asks to hear a particular piece again, and thanks him. This is the first time anyone has shown Sheen any appreciation, and it leaves an impact, especially in the midst of being ostracized.

Nevertheless, Sheen believes that he needs to somehow restore his honor, and the only way to restore honor is to fight. He goes to town hoping for another skirmish to throw himself into. Instead, he meets Joe Bevan, who involves himself in a fight not for glory but to defend Sheen, who is struggling to hit a town boy. And instead of berating Sheen, Bevan offers him some friendly advice on fighting technique that includes multiple Shakespeare references. This gets Sheen’s attention. Despite his failure, he’s feeling euphoric since at least he tried and “He had tasted the pleasure of the fight, and he wanted more.” A bit concerning that he’s developing a taste for violence for the thrill of it, but the narrative isn’t concerned about this.

Bevan, a retired professional boxer who now works as a trainer, sees Sheen as a viable candidate for boxing lessons, and Sheen eagerly agrees. He wants to win a competition and prove himself! Bevan, on the other hand, sees boxing as a practical skill that everyone should know for the sake of self-defense and defense of women (who, presumably, are not included in that “everyone” who needs to learn boxing). So Sheen’s lessons begin, and they really are good for him. He's getting the benefit of learning a sport, he develops self-confidence, and he’s building a positive relationship with his trainer. The narrative emphasizes the importance of sympathy in a boxing instructor, and Bevan is regarded as an ideal. He is positive and encouraging with Sheen, never harsh or critical. And that’s exactly what Sheen needs—someone who can see the worth inherent in him and help him see that worth too.

…except that’s not really the point that the narrative makes. Sheen “could hardly realise that he had only begun to despise himself in the last fortnight. Before then, he had been, on the whole, satisfied with himself.” I think what’s trying to be said here is that he used to be complacent, not truly satisfied, but the implications here are unfortunate. Why would his despising himself be a good thing? He has been motivated to improve himself, which is good, and the balance of athleticism and scholarliness that the narrative recommends is a good thing (although I question the stance of Athletics Are Better To Focus On If You Can Only Have One), but he has undertaken this for reasons that stem from self-loathing, and that will cause problems later. The narrative, however, is not concerned with this. Balance and well-roundedness are important, sure, but the issue needs more nuance than it is given here.

And then there’s this: “As the days went by, Sheen began to imbibe some of Joe Bevan's rugged philosophy of life. He began to understand that the world is a place where every man has to look after himself, and that it is the stronger hand that wins. That sentence from Hamlet which Joe Bevan was so fond of quoting practically summed up the whole duty of man—and boy too. One should not seek quarrels, but ‘being in,’ one should do one’s best to ensure that one’s opponent thought twice in future before seeking them.”

“Don’t be belligerent but stand up for yourself when you need to” is reasonable enough, but to pair with a mindset of greater strength equaling greater power and authority and that being the ultimate goal is questionable. This is exactly what Drummond was preaching at the beginning, and it basically commends intimidation of anyone perceived as weak or lesser. And honestly, we don’t really see Bevan putting that into practice necessarily. His defense of Sheen was looking out for the underdog. So, is Sheen’s understanding of Bevan’s philosophy flavored more by the influence of the schoolboy culture than anything his trainer is really instilling in him?

Sheen finally gets up the nerve to confess his alleged cowardice to Bevan, and Bevan’s reaction is to say, “Never you mind, sir […] We all lose our heads sometimes. I’ve seen the way you stand up to Francis, and I’ll eat—I’ll eat the medicine-ball if you’re not as plucky as anyone. It’s simply a question of keeping your head. You wouldn’t do a thing like that again, not you. Don’t you worry yourself, sir. We’re all alike when we get bustled. We don’t know what we’re doing, and by the time we’ve put our hands up and got into shape, why, it’s all over, and there you are. Don’t you worry yourself, sir.” The lack of condemnation in this speech is refreshing to Sheen, who thanks Bevan, but note that Bevan still seems to regard walking away from a senseless fight as—well, not a crime, but still an inadvisable course of action, a forgivable mistake that could happen to anyone, but a mistake nonetheless. They’re men, darn it, and men fight.

Which Sheen proves when a schoolmate tries to appropriate a fives court that Sheen has already claimed and Sheen proceeds to hit him after polite firmness is ignored. This seems an unnecessary escalation (it would have made more sense if the other guy had started something physical rather than Sheen being the one to resort to violence first, which violates the Hamlet principle), but it’s viewed as a triumph for him. It is not enough to develop confidence; he needs to be comfortable with violence to be a proper man, according to the cultural standard.

The other guy, rather than admit that Sheen hit him, spreads lies that fit the public view of Sheen as a contemptible coward, and his house in particular turns more against him, since “The pride of a house is almost keener than the pride of a school. From the first minute he entered the house a new boy was made to feel that, in coming to Seymour’s, he had accepted a responsibility that his reputation was not his own, but belonged to the house. If he did well, the glory would be Seymour’s glory. If he did badly, he would be sinning against the house.” So it doesn’t matter investigating to find out the truth; anything that calls reputation into question must be stamped out. Once again, Drummond puts a stop to this, but it’s because of his sense of fair play, not that he particularly cares about his former friend. When some boys plan to vandalize Sheen’s study and destroy some of his books to lessen his chances of winning the scholarship, Drummond stops them, but only because it’s an affront to the house. Such a noble fellow.

Bruce, on the other hand, gives Sheen a lift in his dad’s car to get him back from Bevan’s before lock-up—no questions asked. When Sheen admits his shameful past, Bruce merely says he had heard something about that and doesn’t react further; Sheen’s reputation clearly doesn’t matter to him. He has taken lessons with Bevan too, and he offers to give Sheen rides to and from and to be a sparring partner. Oh, and next time Sheen practices the piano, could he play that one particular piece? This is an actual friendship, and it’s clear that Sheen is at his best in Bruce’s company as he is in Bevan’s.

Sheen gets further opportunities to demonstrate his newfound confidence. He confronts a boy whom he believes sank the boat that was his only way of getting home; this was not the case, and the discussion ends on a polite and resolved note with no violence. This is positive. When having to supervise the dormitory in Drummond’s absence, Sheen keeps order by using a “swagger stick” (a cane carried by prefects) to beat the younger boys who attempt to tear his bedding apart. The narrative sees this as a positive development too and emphasizes that he must not show weakness in front of the younger boys. Corporal punishment of this sort was typical in such schools, and its use here demonstrates the philosophy of asserting superiority through greater strength/violence. Sheen’s new confidence is something that he needs, but in this culture, unfortunately that must come with a greater desensitization to violence.

Drummond once again proves himself a jerk by rejecting Sheen’s offer by letter to box for the house since “we must have the best man,” but this is apparently acceptable because he wasn’t as much of a jerk as he could have been and didn’t write back with “don’t be a fool” as he originally intended. The house must come before individuals, but for Drummond finally “pity succeeded contempt” and he tones his reply down because Sheen has had a rough time lately (though he deserves it!) and “at one time they had been pals.”

The honor of the house is such a priority that there is debate about reinstating Sheen’s position because they need him to win for them in fives, but the head prefect of the house is too much of a people-pleaser to push for this because it would upset too many people. Unable to compete in any sport for the house, Sheen proceeds to win the scholarship, and the head prefect develops enough gumption to publicly congratulate him at the dinner table, a tradition intended to “reflect glory on the house”—otherwise, no one but Bruce acknowledges his victory. This still isn’t enough to restore his honor, so Sheen is starting to feel that his boxing efforts are pointless now that he has no opportunity to use his skills to compete. This hasn’t been about learning the skill for its own sake and for his personal betterment—this is still about trying to please others. Sheen has never really stopped being a chronic people-pleaser; he has just learned to channel that in a more socially acceptable direction. There’s also a gendered angle to his anxiety to win a competition; he doesn’t care so much about how his skills will benefit him in life when he wants “a chance of proving himself a man with his hands.”

He really has nothing to prove. He has plenty of reasons to respect himself. But in the culture that he’s stuck in, none of that matters. The only thing that matters is what others think of you and whatever group you belong to—that determines one’s worth as a male, and neither he nor anyone else around him has thought to question that. What he needs to hear is that competition to restore his honor shouldn’t be the point of all his hard work, that the skill and the qualities it builds in him are their own reward, and other people don’t get to define his worth for him.

…instead, Bevan’s response is to point out a new opportunity for competition that Sheen has overlooked. He can go to Aldershot to compete with boys from schools all over the nation. His desire to restore his honor through winning is thus endorsed by the narrative. He does not have to reevaluate what he really wants or needs.

In order to do this, he has to present his plan to his housemaster for approval. This requires him to tell Mr. Seymour the whole story, including the shameful incident. Mr. Seymour, despite being Sheen’s housemaster and seeing him every day and being generally responsible for him, has no clue whatsoever that the entire school has been shunning him. This obliviousness to what is going on among the students socially is presented as a matter of course, as if it would be abnormal for masters to be involved in their lives of their students. To a large extent, these boys seem to run things unsupervised—and we can see how well that’s working out. Anyway, when Sheen tells him that everyone “cut” him and he “had rather a rotten time,” Mr. Seymour’s only comment is “Well?” (in the sense of “And then what?”). So Sheen adds that he “was a bit sick” (i.e. upset) and took up boxing, and again the reply is “Well?” Mr. Seymour’s concern here is not that his student was being socially bullied to the point of feeling like he needed to redeem himself, but to find out how this boy came to learn to box, a skill which can be an advantage to the school. Apparently “cutting” someone for alleged cowardice is a normal, reasonable thing, not worth raising any questions. Although he is concerned that Sheen might not be as gifted a boxer as he thinks he is and has reservations about letting him go to Aldershot, these are easily dismissed. He wants Wrykyn representation at this competition very badly, and he sympathizes with Sheen’s desire to restore his honor.

So, if you were thinking, “Why doesn’t Sheen report anything to a teacher?”–this is why not. No one at Wrykyn is supposed to have any feelings. If people are being jerks to you, tough. It’s probably your fault. You are only of interest based on how well you perform to make the school look good.

Sheen goes to Aldershot. He wins. His final opponent is a boy of ambiguous mixed race, who is described and referred to in rather offensive terms, including by Sheen himself—the boy who was once worried about giving offense has now “progressed” into someone who privately psychs himself up for a fight by thinking slurs about his opponent. The win is an unsurprising climax—the standard sort of thing for this story. It’s “the greatest moment of his life.” But the narrative is just as interested in the aftermath of the victory, because its whole point was always for the sake of what others will think.

There’s a detailed account of how one of the boys reads the sports papers before the others, finds out about Sheen’s victory, hides the paper for maximum dramatic impact whenever he chooses to deliver the news, but finally convinces Sheen himself to reveal the news at the court-martial that’s now taking place for him. Without him.

It's a humorous and satisfying scene that earns Sheen the chance to receive his former detractors’ sudden admiration and the chance to “score off” Stanning, who has been the one running the rumor mill. But interestingly, Sheen does not take the opportunity to call anyone out on the cruelty of “cutting” him, or the general unjustness of this system. His only addressed concern is why the senior day-room of Seymour’s “can’t manage things of this sort by yourselves, without dragging in men from other houses [i.e. Stanning].” The system is unquestioned; the only problem is a house’s not being insular enough—or perhaps, more to the point, accepting information against someone from a potentially malicious source without verifying it. Sheen is able to dismiss Stanning without violence—but with the fear of violence behind it now that he has a name for himself as the victor of his class at Aldershot.

The final chapter deals with the headmaster addressing a problem which has long gone unchecked. Rampant bullying? No, that’s no big deal. The serious offense here is Sheen going out of bounds to attend boxing lessons. But Bruce puts in a good word for him, and everything is fine. The last we see of Sheen, he is off to have tea with Drummond, who suddenly wants to be friends again now that Sheen has done the socially acceptable thing, but the book ends with him in conversation with Bruce, who wants to know all about Aldershot and how Sheen is feeling after it. Although the so-called friendship with Drummond has been rekindled, there’s significance in the concluding focus on connecting with Bruce, who has consistently been a good friend, even when Sheen had nothing to offer socially. Even with the admiration of the whole school now, the one that Sheen prioritizes is someone who values him for himself.

And quite frankly, I wish the narrative did too. Sheen’s development has been striking and in certain areas has done him a lot of good, in terms of skill and self-confidence. But it has done nothing to give him a sense of self-worth that is based in anything besides how he performs—and conforms. His quest to change is rooted in a desire to measure up to others’ standards, he needs to publicly exhibit how much he has changed in order to feel worthy, and he must achieve success in a way that adheres to what is valued by his peer group in order to be accepted by them. No one at Wrykyn is forced to reevaluate how cruel their treatment of Sheen was or how skewed their priorities are. He instead has to better conform himself to their ideal. He has to downplay his studiousness—but still somehow win the scholarship. He has to develop a more hardened mentality toward others, more willing to resort to violence and harshness. He doesn’t entirely lose his reserved manner, but he does become more cutting in his politeness. He has to be less concerned about what others will think of him because it’s either them or him—but yet he has to be concerned enough about what others will think in a way that ensures that he toes the line of what the senior day-room crowd approves of. In the end, is Sheen really the improved version of himself or just a shrewder player of the game that was schoolboy culture?

For someone of Wodehouse’s background, that was how you survived. Someone like Sheen in that time and place would have no other choice but conform without question. And that’s rather tragic.

But there’s a bit of evidence of Wodehouse’s developing more nuance around this with later books. By the time of Mike and Psmith, the protagonists refuse to conform at their detested new school but in the end choose to participate in school cricket anyway—not out of peer pressure, or for the honor of the house or school or whatever, but in order to help out a friend, for whom the gesture means a lot. Doing the right thing by other people is more of a concern in that narrative. Sheen would probably have thrived more at a school like Sedleigh, the setting of M&P—it’s a pity he didn’t get transferred there.

Sheen at the beginning of his story is a lot like how I was at that age. Now that I’m older and in the middle of my own arc—I mostly just want to rescue him from that awful environment. He deserves better.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buddie Fanfics: Multi-Chapter Mondays

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Hiatus Reading

Buck and Eddie have an EPIC LOVE STORY that spans 6 years and it deserves to be told! Since they're the loves of each other's lives and soulmates who share a once in a lifetime love that transcends space and time, in order to give it the attention it deserves, sometimes fanfics have to include multiple chapters so everything that needs to be included can be. The five fanfics below have more than one chapter and they follow Buck and Eddie as they journey through life. There's angst, emotions, romantic fluff, travel and some of them include smut.

6B Speculation

“I gave you a son and a family!” - 60.6K words; Rated Mature:  Eddie tells Buck he already gave him a son and a family and Buck realizes he misunderstood but they stop talking after their argument and they won’t have time to fix it before they almost lose each other again.

After 6x12 Speculation

Come with me to Italy!  - 25.2K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences:  Buck and Eddie take a 10-day trip to Italy so they can heal together but Eddie doesn’t know Buck’s also thinking about relocating to Italy to become a firefighter.

After 6x15 Speculation

“From here on out, it’s all a gift!”- 22.4K words; Rated Teen and Up Audiences:  Buck feels like the person he just met “sees” him for who he is and what he’s been through while Eddie feels alone and admits he doesn’t want to be anymore. Everything they’ve been searching for has been right in front of them for years and the universe is tired of waiting. To help them realize “it’s all a gift”; it hurls another shared trauma in their direction but will it be too late for them to appreciate it?

Season 7 FANON Speculation

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!” - Currently 28 chapters are available - 1.177M Words; Rated: Mature: This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!  Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it. But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be spectacular. This fic will take Eddie and Buck places the show refuses to go. This is a multi-chapter fic that will be posted one chapter at a time.

7x10 Finale FANON Speculation

“Don’t walk away from something before you even know what it is!” - 4 total chapters 52.3K Words; Rated: Teens and Up Audiences: Eddie decides to walk away when he feels like he’s missed his last chance to be with Buck and after another failed date, Buck considers why none of the people he’s ever dated felt right and it causes him to consider walking away from whatever he’s doing with the person he’s with. When another twist of fate rips them apart and they’re faced with losing each other forever, will they walk away from everything they’ve built before they even know what it is?   This is a multi-chapter fic and two chapters will be posted at a time.

[oohnotvery]

Hand To Your Heart (Chapter 3)

Hi, friends. Thank you so much for your incredible patience with me on this chapter. When I started writing this story, I had noooo clue that I’d unexpectedly be stepping into a new chapter of life at the exact same moment. I don’t really want to delve into details yet, but I hope to give you the full story someday soon :) Like all of life, it’s a mixture of good and bad, but mostly good.

As always, please trust that this angst-fest will have a lovely resolution.

-E.

tagging @today-in-fic

Present Day

Scully isn’t sure what exactly she expects from Mulder after that awful night in his apartment. Apart from their slightly tipsy decision to become friends with benefits many weeks ago, they have never openly addressed their sexual arrangement. It is a frail, vulnerable thing. To put words to it would surely break it.

But after slipping out the door of his apartment, she does half-expect to receive a phone call later that evening. Hey, Scully, sorry I fell asleep, and sorry about . . .

Sorry about what? He fucked her, which was the agreement they made. No one ever promised anything about making sure the other person enjoyed it. For all intents and purposes, Mulder did nothing out of the ordinary. He can’t ensure she comes every single time they have sex; hell, he may not have even realized she didn’t come. In his mind, there’s probably no issue at all.

But Mulder isn’t any old caveman who sticks it in and finishes without thought to his partner’s pleasure. In fact, every single other time they’ve been together, he’s lavished her with attention, usually pulling one or two orgasms from her before he even begins to think about tending to his own needs.

She’s not crazy, then. That night was an anomaly. So what possible excuse could he have for treating her the way he did? She ticks off the possibilities:

Maybe he was drunk. She’s fairly sure she tasted alcohol on his breath, and she knows that even for a man his size, he has a relatively low tolerance. Or maybe he was getting sick. Maybe he was feeling bad. Maybe he just couldn’t stop thinking about his burning office.

Can she forgive him for it? If he comes to her and apologizes, will it be enough to lure her back into his bed?

Although her logical mind says no, no way, I won’t put myself in that position ever again, her emotional brain knows the truth. She would slip back into his arms like water cascading over sharp rocks. Although their arrangement hurts her, she loves it too much, even when it’s awful. She loves that she is the woman Mulder chooses to bring to bed. She loves that she is the person who gets to touch him and taste him. She loves that she is the one who gets to stare into his eyes as he comes.

When she leaves his apartment, she is full of fury and humiliation, but when she wakes the next morning—physically sore and emotionally wounded—some of that initial anger dies. She knows she has a tendency to forgive him too quickly, and that this tendency is borne from a deep-seated terror that he will stop wanting and needing her.

She wants so badly to be hard and cold towards him. She wants so badly to demand an apology, to stand up for herself and her dignity.

But when he walks into work the next morning and takes his place at his desk, everything inside her seizes up. If I bring this thing to light, she reminds herself as she watches him shed his suit jacket, I give myself away. Once he knows that I care, it’s all over.

And so she stays quiet, and apart from a quick hello, Mulder does too. In fact, for the rest of the day, he hardly acknowledges her. Days pass in this way and she starts to grow more and more concerned that she’s done something wrong. That maybe he fucked her like that because he’s angry at her.

Should she ask him?

She nearly works up the courage to demand answers, but distraction in the form of a bomb threat in Texas arrives. The distraction does its job, balancing out their equilibrium, lowering Mulder’s low-simmering frustration and softening Scully’s hard edges. Some of their normal camaraderie even returns. Mulder turns playful, a bit jokey, excited to get out of D.C. and turn his mind from the excruciating loss of the X-Files.

When they return to D.C., Scully swears she sees a new page turning for them. He almost kisses her right there in his hallway, and though they’ve done this act dozens of times before, this time feels different. Its approach is slow, deliberate, and weighty, and the affection in his gaze disarms her. Maybe sex isn’t all there is between them. Maybe Mulder does feel more for her than lust.

And then there’s a bee and an impossible journey to Antarctica. If anything were going to repair this broken relationship, it would be Mulder’s dazzling heroics.

And yet.

They return to D.C., frostbitten and exhausted, and Mulder turns angry and moody and inaccessible once again. He’s livid when she waffles on whether they saw a spaceship in Antarctica, and he’s furious to find out that Jeffrey Spender and Diana Fowley have been assigned to the X-Files.

Relegated to the bull pen, they interact less and less. A few weeks ago, humiliated and angry and unsatisfied, she vowed never to sleep with him again. But now, even if she wanted to engage with him in that way, there would be few chances to do so. All their earlier pretenses for getting together disappear. Without the X-Files, he no longer has a reason to drop by her apartment to “go over a file.” She no longer has a reason to invite him out for drinks to discuss autopsy notes. They stop traveling frequently, so there’s no conjoining rooms.  

Her heartbreak processes slowly. It’s been weeks since he fucked her like he didn’t want her, but she’s just now starting to feel like her world is falling apart. Because even though she will not pursue him, the sad reality simmers in her subconscious: she wishes he would pursue her. But weeks pass and time stretches between them, and he doesn’t make a move. There are days when she can convince herself that Mulder is just bored and unhappy and unmotivated, and that he doesn’t have the energy to work up a sex drive. But on other days, her steadfast sense of rationalism kicks in, and she is smart enough to discern that he simply doesn’t want her anymore.

It hurts. It hurts, but she doesn’t let it show. She dons a cold mask and watches as they grow more and more distant from each other.

Everything’s fine, she tells herself on repeat, day after day after day.

But at night, when she’s alone, she drops her face into her hands and cries. Because they’re broken. She’s broken.

And everything is not fine.

**

It is a hot, cloudless summer day when the elevator door slides open and Scully spies Diana Fowley walking through the bull pen. It’s been weeks since their paths have crossed, although Scully occasionally spies the other woman at security checkpoints during the morning rush hour. It is rare, however, to see her up on this floor.

Distracted, Scully forgets to exit the elevator car and has to lunge to catch the closing door. The hot coffee she’s holding in a flimsy paper cup sloshes down her wrist and forearms and she curses as she steps out into the hallway.

“Careful,” comes a disapproving voice, and Scully’s head snaps up. Diana brushes her shoulder as she sashays into the elevator, mouthing ouch as her lips curl into a twisted little wince.

Cheeks flaming, Scully scowls and continues down the hallway towards the bull pen. Diana Fowley never brings good news, so she’s not exactly surprised to find that Mulder is already starting to pack up for the day.

“Going somewhere?” she asks, glancing casually at her watch. It’s not even noon.

He flashes her a neutral look, nodding. “Maryland.”

She bites her cheek. “With Agent Fowley?”

If Mulder is surprised at her guess, he doesn’t show it, just yanks his suit jacket from his chair and swings it over his arm. “Yep.”

Scully frowns, stepping around the desk to block him from leaving. He sighs irritably and runs a hand across his jaw.

“What is it, Scully?” he asks with an impatient glance at the clock.

She tamps down the pesky surge of hurt that flashes through her. “Is there a case?”

“Yep.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?”

“It’s X-Files business,” he replies evasively.

“You aren’t on the X-Files anymore, Mulder.”

He shrugs. “Diana’s requested my expertise on this matter.”

“Just yours?”

“She doesn’t need a scientist around, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replies, finally making eye contact with her. “This is an investigation into a paranormal event. It’s not really up your alley.”

She balks, her eyebrows flying to her hairline. “Not up my alley? Really, Mulder?”

“You know what I mean,” he huffs aggravatedly. “Don’t take it the wrong way.”

But her hands are beginning to tremble. “Might I remind you that I was an equal partner on the X-Files for nearly five years, Mulder? That all we did was investigate the paranormal and the unexplained and the unsolved phenomena of our world? In fact, you might even be able to say that the paranormal has been my bread and butter for nearly half a decade.”

He rubs at his eyes so hard that she’s tempted to reach out and stop him. You’ll get wrinkles, she would have chided him a few months ago. Now, she simply stays silent.  

“Fine, come if you really want,” he says with a half-hearted shrug.

“Gee, what a warm invitation,” she snaps. She digs her fingernails into her palms, trying to tamp down her rising indignation. But it’s been building and building and building for so long, for so many weeks, and she’s not sure she has any control over it anymore.

Refusing to take the bait, he sighs. “Come if you must, Scully, but like I said, there’s no need. It’s just going to be me and Diana on this. Don’t waste your time on something that doesn’t involve you—”

“But I’m your partner—”

“We’re not partners,” he retaliates, so loudly that several people look up from their desks.

It’s a low blow, and the regret that briefly flashes across his face tells her that he knows it too. But he’s mostly right. They aren’t really partners, not anymore. Not in the way they were when they were investigating the X-Files.

Crossing her arms protectively across her chest, she lifts her eyes to meet his gaze. “So you have a new partner then?” She just barely resists adding, “someone leggy and buxom and brunette, perhaps?”

His jaw twitches. “Oh, don’t do this, Scully.”

“That’s not an answer, Mulder.”

He shakes his head and takes a step closer, dropping a large palm heavily across her shoulder. “You know Diana has been consulting with me since she took over the X-Files,” he says, speaking to her like she’s a child. Her stomach turns and she bites back the words she wants to say: no, I didn’t know that. “Those files mean everything to me, Scully, and you know that. I can’t say no to the opportunity to work on them just because that opportunity doesn’t involve you. Don’t hold me back here.”

The breath leaves her body. Stunned, she steps back, letting his hand slide off her shoulder. In her mind’s eye, she’s suddenly back in his hallway, many weeks ago. I’ve just held you back, she hears herself telling him. But you saved me! he replies earnestly. As difficult and as frustrating as it’s been sometimes, your goddamned strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over! You’ve kept me honest . . . you’ve made me a whole person.

Did he mean any of it? Or was all of it just to keep her under his control?

Turning away from him, she tries to ignore the infuriating sting of tears building in her eyes. And if Mulder notices her pain, he doesn’t say anything. After a few seconds, when she’s sure she can look at him without crying, she tips her face up to his. Her mouth parts and she tries to speak, tries to say anything to recover her dignity. But emotions choke in her throat and she just drops her head again. She feels him step in close and this time, she can’t stop the tears that break over her lashes.

“Scully, come on, stop, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says earnestly, his palm falling to her back, his lips to her ear. In her mind, he is fucking her too roughly, too emotionlessly, too distantly. In her mind, he is falling asleep before she even has a chance to come. In her mind, she is sitting in the car crying as her body burns with pain.

“I’m sorry,” he continues, slipping his hand down to squeeze her waist. It is too familiar, and she flinches. “You don’t hold me back, Scully, you know that. But this case has potential and I’m finally feeling motivated about something. This is important to me.”

What he doesn’t say is plain enough: you’re no longer important to me.

She nods, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. The taste of iron reminds her of the nosebleeds she used to get when the cancer was ravaging her body. If she had died then, would Mulder respect her more? She would have become like a martyr to his cause, someone to be revered and worshipped the rest of his life, like Samantha. If only she had succumbed then, maybe he would love her now.

“Scully,” he tries again, and she shakes her head.

“It’s fine,” she says a little too brightly, plastering on a fake smile and glancing up at him for good measure. All she knows right now is that he can’t see how badly he’s hurt her. To admit to that would be to admit that she cares about him far more than he cares about her. It is self-annihilation.

“It’s good,” she continues, her voice rising. “It’s good that you’re happy. That’s all I—that’s all I want, Mulder.”

And to her astonishment, he bends down and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. She recoils, shrinking towards the desk. By the time she recovers from her shock, he is already out the door.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

9 Days of Lancaster Training

It was eerie, camping in the town square. By their very nature search and rescue operations don’t try and hide at all, can’t, even. It set my teeth on edge, but it was necessary.

“We’ll be training a little too, but we’ll try and keep it down.” I let Ren know. He was scrapping some dinner together and some other meals. We'd found perishables that the bandits hadn’t bothered to take and would literally rot if we didn’t eat them.

Ruby had wondered if that made us better than the bandits but together the three of us convinced her otherwise.

From, “you can’t give it to anyone.”

To, “you can’t save it for later.”

And fervently, “all this in all these empty houses will be rat food if we don’t eat it now.”

She gave in but didn’t eat much.

She was stressed, they all were. Especially considering how far we just got set back in terms of our travel time. Money really wasn’t an issue. Huntsmen could make a living anywhere and with communication down…

With communication down the law of the land in most places was whatever the guy with the most fighting power said it was. Who were you going to call and how were you going to call them and what would they do by the time they finally arrived to do something, if they ever came at all?

Huntsmen will have even fewer problems making money anywhere. Perhaps too few.

I set another log on the campfire. There was a flare of sparks and the fire snapped a few times at me. I stared at them like the patterns they made would reveal something to me but there was nothing at all.

Nora was already turned away from the dim light in her sleeping bag. Ren being emotional had evidently exhausted her beyond her energy.

Ruby had found a clearing she liked as we’d set up camp and I followed her there now from the campsite. I hadn’t bothered to take my armor off at any point. I needed to get used to it and I’d do it by wearing it sixteen hours a day, more, probably.

“You’ll probably need a whole new fighting style, I mean, have you ever practiced with a broadsword?” She chatted as we walked.

“I haven’t but a sword is a sword.” What’s so hard to understand about swish-swish-stab? A lot, to be honest. “I’ll be able to figure it out.”

“I know some of my uncle’s moves.” Ruby continued. “Would they help?”

“I’m bad enough that they literally couldn’t make me worse.”

She looked like she wanted to hit me for that but couldn’t because she was about to hit me anyway.

I stared at her from the side, watching her pink lips move out of the corner of my eyes. She reached up while she was talking and brushed her short red and black hair over her ear with one hand.

She was building up contained excitement like a diesel engine getting warmed up and I had to smile. Once she started talking it released like a wave and I found myself nodding and listening along as she carried on the better part of three conversations at once.

 “A lot of his moves are horizontal, it’s hard to swing a sword that big upwards. The ground gets in the way. His most powerful attacks are usually ones that come downwards, though, using gravity. His weapon is different, you know?” I did, I was confident she’d told me, at least. I’d hear it again, though. "It’s a broadsword with a similar scale to yours but also turns into a scythe, and, unlike yours, it has a gun too.” She looked at me to make sure I was listening. I was entranced with her lecture.

"It’s actually a lot more complicated than yours but you’ve always been simple," she continued.

I agreed so, I nodded.

“I don’t mean simple like that. I mean simple like- well, you know.”

I did, so I nodded.

“But every person is like that, everybody is unique.”

“-what?”

 “Weapon!” She corrected herself a tad-little loud. “Every weapon is like that.” She glanced at me.

She dared me to call her out.

I couldn’t possibly.

“I really don’t know much about fight with shields, though, I’m sorry I won’t be more help. But like I said, swing downwards instead of upwards and it’ll help.”

I grimaced. If I swung the broadsword down, I’d need to lift it up again. It seemed obvious but the thing was heavy now. I’d need to do it as little as possible to conserve energy.

I watched her spin away from me into the clearing.

It took me a second to realize she was waiting for me and I stepped opposite her and drew the broadsword from my back.

Ruby’s scythe extended and she reversed her grip on it, holding the weapon behind her back. I didn’t think for one second it was an opening. I couldn’t cross the distance between us before she would move.

Still, I knew if she were willing to spend ammunition on a sparring match, then I would be the one forced to approach. In the spirit of that I charged at her anyway.

I committed to an attack with Crocea Mors, swinging from my shoulder down at her. She danced out of the way, her footwork was tight and fast. She was able to stay just out of my range, dipping in to slice across my breastplate with her scythe before I could bring my weapon around again.

It was enough to buffet it and I was encouraged further to back up when she rolled the scythe around her body in an upwards diagonal arc.

It wasn’t where I wanted to be, backing up was so much worse than side stepping. On the back-foot your opponent could charge and stand and fight you.

Pyrrha had hammered that into me none-too gently. Sometimes she used her shield as the hammer.

Sometimes she hadn’t.

Ruby stepped with me, staying inside where I would feel comfortable with the sword.

I lashed out with my foot in a clumsy kick, balancing the sword’s weight with my own mass and all my armor on just one leg with little practice. The kick flat out missed and Ruby had the good grace not to laugh. She did catch the leg I was left standing on with her scythe and yank me off my feet.

I felt myself whirl through the air and land flat on my back.

“Sorry Jaune.” She smiled down at me sheepishly. I couldn't be mad at that.

I got to my feet shaking my head. “I’ll get over it. I’m not afraid of looking like an idiot.” I leveled the broadsword at her. “I still have plenty of aura for you to beat out of me.”

She took that as a sign to continue and this time she rushed me.

I sidestepped lashing out with Crocea Mors into the space I had just occupied. It collided with Crescent Rose’s barrel with a heavy metallic clank. The weight was enough to stop Ruby’s momentum and she squealed adorably as she strained against it and the noise she made was enough to distract me a little.

She retreated spinning the crescent behind her, before she reversed again, rotating once more towards me in whirlwind of red and steel.

“How are you not getting dizzy?” I implored.

She giggled at me for that like I was just being just so extra silly when I truly did want answers. It sometimes felt like I could barely stand up without my head spinning and here she was like a top.

I raised Crocea Mors and blocked the blade of Ruby’s scythe with a grunt. I turned my wrists to block her next attack when she came around the other side.

I like to say my efforts impeded her but really she just hit me three times anyway.

Her blade swept across my stomach, glancing off my armor. I threw out Crocea Mors to try and gain some space, but she simply stepped back then back in and hit me hard in the side of the head with the back of Crescent Rose.

I stumbled back but she was all over me sweeping her blade towards me and chipping away at my aura. I grunted lowering Crocea Mors to defend once again. I blocked then thrust my blade out and swung it upward, Ruby easily dodged the thrust but wasn’t ready for me to continue my assault. I rushed forward. She jumped, elegantly dodging the attack with her semblance and a flare of red petals.

She flowed to my right like water before she zipped to the left with vanishing speed and seemed to hit me from behind as her scythe extended to a nearly impossible range. She threw me off balance. Her scythe was a spinning blade of death that sunk deep into my aura, shredding away chunks of it. I stepped back like I was going to retreat but I whipped the blade out and I clipped her side.

She rolled with the attack to the ground to avoid me chasing her, but I had stopped.

The sword made a meaty noise when it hit her, it was the first time I’d hit anybody or anything with it and I immediately regretted how hard I had swung it and that its first target was Ruby besides.

We were just training, and it wasn’t like she was out here swinging to hurt me. I winced slightly. She looked a little winded. Her hand dropped down a little. I shouldn’t just be throwing out haymakers at her.

Duh, Jaune, what a way to say thank you.

Her body shimmered with soft red light as she recovered, getting to her feet. I let her rise unassailed; in a real fight I’d be all over her; I wasn’t above hitting someone while they were down, after all, the world had no problems doing it to me, but this was just training.

“Are you alright?" I asked, my eyes roved her body, looking for any sign of injury. Her hand rose from where I had hit her, and she nodded.

I was sure Ruby could go toe to toe with nearly anyone, I’d seen her fight Yang and Pyrrha. But my sword weighed as much as either of them did, soaking wet in full gear. And unlike a potential Yang based weapon, Crocea Mors had all of that force condensed into a tight blade.

Ruby’s own weapon was spindly in comparison and for a moment I wasn’t totally sure that I wouldn’t crack her barrel in half if I came down really hard on it.

“I’m fine. That hurt, though, you’ve gotten stronger.”

“It's the new sword, it’s heavier,” I dismissed. “It’s easy to hit things hard with a giant sheet of metal.”

“Well, I’m sure that's true, too.”

I continued to look her over. I was thinking about her hit and run fighting style.

That old big kicker-why?

Why did she bother retreating when she was so strong? It wasn’t just a fighting style preference. I was beginning to suspect that she needed to. She needed to dodge rather than block and she couldn’t afford to tank hits like I could.

She wasn’t weak - it was impossible to think that, really. It was honestly weird to think about her as fragile, too, even with the evidence right in my face.

“How am I doing so far,” I managed between pants.

I decided I would give her a moment to catch her breath, if she needed it. It looked like I had knocked the wind out of her, even through her Aura.

“You need to move more, you stand too still.” It was familiar advice, and it brought me back to rooftop training sessions with another redhead. I changed tracks, not wanting to think about Pyrrha right now.

Thinking about Pyrrha only made me want to train. I wanted to train and fight until I was strong enough to kill Cinder.

It was fucking bullshit that Cinder got to walk around while I didn’t even get to bury Pyrrha. I shook my head, thoughts of revenge clearing. I had a long way to go until I could hold a candle to the woman who killed my partner.

Besides I was training now, I couldn’t be more training than I currently was.

“Well it’s hard to keep up with you in terms of movement,” I deflected but made it clear I agreed. Standing rooted like a tree would only serve to cost me precious aura. Plus, now I had two sources telling me to get my ass in gear and move around the battlefield. Not that I’d ever ignored Pyrrha’s advice but sometimes lessons took a while to stick.

We started again.

I slashed two wide arcs at Ruby, and she ducked under one and deflected the other. The large sword wasn’t cutting it for me right now, but the point was to train with the new form. My movements were telegraphed with the broadsword, much more so than with the bastard sword and the shield would also allow me to defend myself from her wild slashes better, but the point of training right now was to learn how to use the new length to my advantage. It was not necessarily to use the best weapon for the situation.

She hit me twice with Crescent Rose before I felt the blade swing around me. She traded places with it, swinging me and herself in a sort of orbit connected by her weapon. She brought me around in a wide arc before she used a tree to halt her moment and mine. I could only watch as Ruby effectively pulled the blade towards her and through my aura.

It clotheslined me hard into the ground and made a loud gonging noise as it her blade dinged off my freshly polished armor. I lay there on the ground with my chest flashed with soft golden light as my aura flickered. Ruby seemed to realize that I’d had enough and stepped back, folding her scythe behind her back as she did.

I tried to rub my chest through my armor for a moment before managing to puzzle together that it wasn’t helping. Even through the protection granted by my soul and armor it was enough to sting.

I sat up and just tried to focus on breathing.

Ruby sat down next to me. Plopping down in her skirt with practiced ease.

“Was it really okay to re-forge Pyrrha’s weapons like that?” Ruby asked. “I know I sort of talked you into this. I didn’t mean to make you do something you might regret.”

I understood the sentiment immediately, but this felt right.

“Her sword was in pieces and it would only have served as a reminder that she wasn’t actually invincible,” I began. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. “And I’m sure that she would be fine with me using her shield to defend myself, too. And you know there’s going to be something satisfying about killing Cinder with a weapon reinforced with the one she broke.” I chuckled lightly at the morose thought.

“Well, I guess it’s okay, then?” She struggled to find something to say after that. “I’m sure you’re right.”

We sat quietly together in the forest lit by moonlight. It wasn’t a full moon, like the night before, but still plenty bright.

“Jaune…” She trailed off.

“Yeah?” I answered anyway, ignoring her hesitation.

“About Pyrrha…” She pressed on.

“What about her?” I could talk about her, with Ruby of all people, at least. I didn’t particularly want to, but I would.

“Did you and her ever…”

“No, we didn’t. I didn’t know until it was too late.”

“Oh.”

I realized my fingers were brushing my lips. The rough material of my gauntlets was nothing like Pyrrha’s lips and my fingers tasted like sweat and grime.

So soft.

I remembered the way she’d kissed me before she left. It had been desperate but with a certain finality. She’d known she was sending her valedictions to me at the time.

I’d known too.

“She was a really good friend...”

“The best.” I agreed readily. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“Would you have?” She grimaced looking pained. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know. Alright? I really have no idea. I don’t get to know.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ruby slipped into silence and I watched her fight herself again for a long minute. “But she wouldn’t want you fighting Cinder.”

“Well of course not.” Hell, the last thing she’d done was push me into a locker and not give me the choice of dying with her. Which I wasn’t bitter about at all. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. So, I’m still going to.”

“But…” She trailed. Her concern was like a fire, it flickered out towards me but there was nothing for it to catch onto. I was already burnt down inside.

“Hey look.” I pulled my sword over to where we sat. “You wanted to see how the mechanism works, right?” Anything for a change in subject, literally anything. It was weak but Ruby seemed to understand.

She just nodded and listened while I went over the weapon with her. I could tell that she remembered how the mechanism worked part of the way through his explanation, she’d helped design it, after all. She just needed the refresher, but that was it.

I explained all of it anyway.

[iconicstoner]

MtF reader who is nervous about bottom surgery, (any depth) and so she starts to wander around the forest to work out the excess energy.

Jasper who's used to them pacing around the forest simply waits for them to go to the same spot they usually do. This time instead of letting them not talk about it he tells them they need to talk about it. Since she's so scared of surgery.

a/n: Okay, so I usually never write for fem readers (bc I’m a guy), but I thought this idea was super sweet. As a queer person myself, I really love the idea of the twilight vampires being accepting of queer people. I hope I did this ask justice, and to any trans people who are worried about hormones or surgery I hope this is comforting to y’all. 

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

comfort 

mtf!reader x jasper hale (fluff)

words: 823

summary: you’ve been nervous about your upcoming bottom surgery for a while now, so Jasper, the concerned lover he is, makes sure to comfort you and talk you through every detail.

Jasper sat atop one of the trees, waiting for any trace of her to alert him. It was no surprise when he smelled her familiar scent before he could even see her. This secluded spot in the forest was where she always went when she was feeling nervous. Jasper looked down to see her, the beautiful girl he’d grown to love so quickly, walking back and forth quickly as she mumbled to herself. Jasper jumped out of the tree, and in an instant, he was next to her.

“You scared me,” she said breathlessly with a red tint covering her face. He could feel her embarrassment, but more than that he could feel her nervousness. 

“You seemed nervous, darlin’,” Jasper replied as he held one of her hands in his. “I wanted to check on you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, brushing him off. “It’s nothing.”

“Seems like somethin’,” he said playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “You know you can tell me anything,” he said softly. She smiled at him and with shaky hands she brushed some of the hair away from his face. She let her hands fall back down to her sides, working up the courage to tell him what was really going on. Unbeknownst to her, Jasper was using his power in an attempt to make her feel calmer.

“I just need comfort, not advice. We don’t have to talk about it,” she assures him. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, his southern accent pouring out, “I can comfort you too, but clearly somethin’ has been botherin’ you for days. We need to talk about it or it won’t get any better,” he tells her as gently as possible, trying not to work her up.

“I’m just worried about my surgery,” she says with a sigh, causing Jasper’s eyes to widen in surprise. Soon, she’d be undergoing bottom surgery, and she was so excited about it, but now it was clearly causing her a lot of stress.

“I thought you wanted the surgery?” Jasper asked, looking into her eyes.

“I do,” she responded hurriedly, “it’s just this is a big operation, and something could go wrong, or I might not be happy with the results, or maybe you won’t be happy with the results and-”

“Darlin’, I will love you no matter what,” Jasper said, cutting her anxious rambling off. “It doesn’t matter if you get the surgery, if you don’t, or how it turns out. Despite how much I love your body,” he says lightheartedly, grabbing a hold of her waist, “that’s not why I stay with you. I stay with you for this,” he says, tapping her temple with his index finger. “You have the most beautiful mind I’ve ever encountered in my 160 years.”

“So things will be the same between us even after my surgery?” She asks hopefully.

“Not exactly,” Jasper says, causing her smile to fade. She gives him a concerned look and he quickly elaborates, “there might be some new things I’d like to try in the bedroom,” he says with a wink, causing her whole face to go red.

“Oh knock it off,” she says, playfully pushing his chest away with her hand, causing him to pretend to be shocked, except he can’t stop smiling at her. “You aren’t worried about me getting hurt?” she asks him. “It’s a serious surgery, what if I die?”

“I know for a fact no one has ever died during bottom surgery,” he comforts, leaning in closer to her. “And even if that somehow did happen, Carlisle and I would rush right over to the hospital and turn you. Even death can’t save you from me,” he tells her jokingly, but they both know that Jasper really would do that for her. “Besides, Carlisle has been a surgeon for like a million years, so that should be comforting,” he informs her. She laughs as she places her head on his chest.

“This is comforting,” she responds. 

“Perfect,” he responds, lightly kissing her on the top of the head after. She stays pressed up against his chest, and he begins to gently stroke her hair as they talk out some of the finer details of the surgery. Not only does he provide statistics about the surgery for logical comfort, but he also provides loving, emotional comfort. It’s clear Jasper won’t let anything bad happen to her. He’ll drive her to the hospital, hold her hand as she gets put under anesthesia, and as soon as the surgery is complete he’ll go back to her room and hold her hand while she wakes up. During the recovery process, he vows not to leave her side the entire time, even when she insists he doesn’t have to do that. She’s his whole world now and this surgery is just a small part of their story. Even if it’s scary, she can rest assured knowing nothing bad will happen to her.