#I spent more time than I care to admit on this.

[solxamber]

Knights and Oaths - Leona Kingscholar x reader

You come from a long line of knights that have served the rulers of the Savannah. But sometimes traditions are meant to change and the second prince is looking like someone worth changing them for.

The sun hangs low in the sky, painting the Savannah in golden hues as you approach the ceremonial grounds. It’s been years leading up to this moment—years of training, discipline, and growing up side by side with royalty. Your mother serves Falena’s wife, and your father serves the king himself. By all accounts, it’s expected that you’ll follow suit and dedicate your knightly oath to Cheka, the five-year-old prince. That’s just how it’s always been—loyalty passed down through the generations, swearing fealty to the rightful heirs of the Sunset Savannah.

But you’ve never been one for following expectations.

Not when you’ve spent your childhood in the shadow of two princes, one of them your closest companion and sometimes, greatest annoyance. Leona Kingscholar—second prince of the Sunset Savannah, the man who always seemed just a step away from what he could have been. Too lazy to reach it. Too proud to admit it.

When you were kids, Leona’s idea of "training" usually involved you chasing him around, trying to get him to spar when he’d much rather nap beneath the acacia trees. "What’s the point?" he’d grumble, arms folded behind his head, the sun casting dappled shadows across his face. "No matter how hard I try, Falena's the one everyone cares about."

Yet somehow, despite his best efforts to seem indifferent, you always found yourself drawn into his orbit. There was something about Leona that you couldn’t ignore—a pull, a desire to prove himself despite his constant veneer of nonchalance. You saw him in a way others didn’t. And maybe, somewhere along the way, he saw you too.

That’s why today feels different. Your whole life, everyone assumed your path was already written. You’d swear your oath to Cheka, Falena’s son, just as your parents had sworn theirs to Falena and his wife. It was expected, anticipated. But they didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t know about you and Leona, the time spent laughing, bickering, and—more often than not—arguing over ridiculous things like who could run faster or who could climb the tallest tree.

Now here you are, stepping into the hunting grounds, your sword at your side, ready to make your choice.

The hunt is a time-honored tradition. Whoever brings back the most impressive game gets to make their dedication. You can almost hear the whispers as you prepare—"Cheka’s knight," they call you. It’s been assumed for years. But they don’t know what’s coming.

The ceremony itself is simple enough. Each knight pledges their loyalty by dedicating their game to the person they swear to serve. It’s a public declaration of fealty, one made before the entire royal court. But there’s more at stake than just loyalty. The knight who brings back the most impressive game is awarded a golden rose—a symbol of something far deeper than duty.

Love.

Hours later, when you emerge from the hunt with the largest bear the kingdom has seen in years, all eyes are on you. The whispers grow louder, anticipation thick in the air. Everyone knows you’ve won the rose, and with it, the right to swear your loyalty. They’re expecting you to kneel before Cheka, the adorable five-year-old prince bouncing with excitement. Even Leona’s lounging nearby, watching the whole affair with that bored, half-lidded gaze of his, looking as if he might fall asleep at any moment.

But you? You have different plans.

With the golden rose in hand and your bear presented, you walk right past Cheka—past the gasps of the court, the murmurs of confusion, the stunned faces of your parents. And you kneel before Leona.

Leona’s eyes snap open, and for the first time in ages, he looks genuinely surprised. His eyebrows raise, just the barest fraction. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You grin, because of course he’s trying to play it off like this doesn’t matter. "Swearing my fealty, obviously," you say, loud enough for the court to hear. "I dedicate this hunt and the rose to Prince Leona Kingscholar."

The silence that follows is deafening. You can practically feel the jaws dropping across the Savannah. Even little Cheka’s mouth forms a perfect little "o" of shock.

For the first time all day, Leona stirs, the mask of indifference slipping just enough for you to catch the flicker of something beneath it—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. His eyes meet yours, sharper and more intense than ever, and for a moment, the world falls away.

Leona’s eyes narrow, a mixture of suspicion and amusement flickering across his face. "I thought you’d be on your knees for someone else," he drawls, his lips quirking up at the corners.

You shrug. "Everyone else may have decided my fate, but I make my own choices."

“For you, Leona,” you repeat, your voice steady and loud despite the pounding in your chest. “I dedicate my loyalty to you, and this rose... to the one who has always held my heart.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his expression unreadable. It’s Leona, after all. He doesn’t do grand gestures, never needed to. But you notice the way his fingers twitch, like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and take the rose immediately. When he finally speaks again, his voice is low, a bit rough around the edges, but there’s an unmistakable thread of satisfaction laced through it.

“You really know how to cause a scene, huh?”

There’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, and his gaze flicks down to the rose in your hand before meeting your eyes again. “A bear and a rose... For me?”

The teasing tone doesn’t hide the way his chest seems to expand just a little bit, like someone had finally acknowledged him for the first time in years. He reaches out and takes the rose from your hand, his fingers brushing yours in the briefest of touches. It feels electric, like every unspoken word between you is packed into that fleeting moment.

He twirls the rose once between his fingers, his smirk growing. “Guess I should thank you,” he says casually, though there’s a weight to his words, something you’ve rarely heard from him—appreciation. Real and tangible.

Leona stands up slowly, stretching as though this whole event is just another inconvenience, though the pride in his stance is unmistakable. He knows exactly what this means, both for you and for him. No one can dismiss him as just the second prince anymore, not after this. Not when someone like you, bound by honor and tradition, chose him. Over everyone else. Over Cheka. Over the kingdom’s expectations

He leans down, close enough that his breath is warm against your ear as he speaks softly, for you alone to hear. “I never thought you’d choose me. But I can’t say I’m not... pleased.”

Your heart does a strange, fluttering thing in your chest at his words, and you dare to meet his gaze, only to find a look there that you’ve never seen before. Something softer. Something real.

Before you can react, he tugs you in close, his arm settling around your waist in a way that feels both possessive and protective. The world narrows to just the two of you, the warmth of his body radiating through your armor. The smug grin he wears is softened by something deeper in his eyes—something that makes your heart skip a beat.

His hand lingers at your side, thumb brushing lightly against your hip, like he's claiming you just as much as you're dedicating yourself to him.

Before you can respond, he turns, still holding you close, and faces the crowd. The murmurs have turned to outright whispers of shock and disbelief, but Leona seems entirely unbothered by the spectacle you've made. In fact, he revels in it.

“This knight is mine,” he declares, his voice steady, ringing with finality. There’s no hesitation, no doubt—just that lazy confidence and a quiet triumph that says he’s more than pleased with your choice.

And in that moment, you know that, despite everything—his pride, his laziness, his gruff exterior—Leona Kingscholar is proud of you. Proud that you chose him, that you saw him, really saw him, when so many others didn’t. And as his arm tightens around you just a little, you can feel it too: the quiet, unspoken promise of what comes next.

A lifetime bound to the second prince—exactly the way you both want it.

Masterlist

he's so special to me :(((

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance�� so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[shxxxbi]

EVERYTHING THAT WASN'T INCLUDED IN LOVE SEA THE SERIES 🌊

Episode 4 (Chapters: 12 - 14)

<-prev

Breaking a promise

Rak felt like shit here. He had called Mook to extend his stay but his secretary had refused sternly; so after Mut spent two nights pleading for him to stay, Rak tried to find an excuse to keep his promise. He considered telling his secretary that the manuscript wasn't finished, that he needed more time, even considered telling her all the boats had sunk and it was impossible for him to go back to the mainland. But in the end, he had no choice but to admit defeat. He felt terrible for breaking his promise to Mut, meanwhile the younger boy appeared almost unfazed. His face was "just the usual, totally normal one, with the usual smile and the same look. Not a hint of regret."

"If he didn't care, then why would I?"

So Rak picked up his phone and transfered Mut the money for "his services". Now more than ever, Tongrak was convinced that all that had happened between them was just sex. Mut sold his service and Rak had bought it. Nothing he hadn't already done before with other people...

...yet, Rak had "never felt this hollow"

How much would it cost for you to go to Bangkok with me?

That hollow feeling in Rak's chest kept expanding. Memories of the time spent together with Mut flashed through his mind until a sudden warmth urged him to move. Tongrak was confident in his decision, in asking Mut to go with him. However, he still insisted that what he was feeling was not love. That it was just personal pleasure. And if he could afford it, what was the problem?

"The guy sold his service anyway. Right?"

WHAT!!!??

She didn't like this man at all. That's what Mook kept telling herself when she saw the man her boss had brought back with him. He made her feel "as tiny as an ant". Mook had screamed so loud upon hearing what Rak had done, that the airport staff almost came over to ask what was wrong.

"Brought back, as in purchasing?! Are people buying and selling men now?!"

I don't trust you

Mook wanted to back down the moment she met eyes with Mut. She wasn't familiar with men at all, the only men she was close with were her family members and Rak. Mut intimidated her, with his big body and his dark and scary face, so much so it made her want to cry. But no one could be trusted this days, what if this man assaulted Rak? What if he stabbed her boss with a knife in his sleep?

"She had to protect Rak!"

Mut, on the other hand, found her amusing. She was so small, he could "probably blow her away with a puff". But he was never one to bully someone weaker, so he turned to Rak.

"What should i do? If I show respect, she won't back down. But if you tell me to handle her, this little lady won't stand a chance."

Little Trivia: Rak's house

Contrary to the show, Rak's house is on the 27th floor of a very luxurious condo complex in the heart of Bangkok. It has 3 bedrooms, with the main one featuring a large wall window that offered a wonderful view of the bustling streets below. As for the other two bedrooms, one is a guest bedroom and the other one a study crammed with books. As for the kitchen, it is entirely made of Italian marble and has, basically, never been used.

Bro, are you crazy?!

This phone call actually happens after Rak and Mook have already set off to work. Mook had been waiting outside the door to Rak's house as soon as the sun was up, too terrified to enter on her own and find the two men fucking in the living room, so she waited for Mut to let her in. After the secretary and her boss had left, Mut gets a call from Palm. The younger boy kept shouting and calling him crazy, but Mut knew very well what he was doing. Many people would describe him as very mature for his age, but Mut knew he still tended to act childish at times. Just like he had done now. Following a man to the mainland with no plan whatsoever, simply because he was unwilling to let him go. Mahasamut knew that their paths would most likely never cross again, this was the only opportunity he had to keep Tongrak close. And he would not let it go.

Little Trivia pt.2: Mahasamut's age

Mut's age is never explicitly confirmed in the novel, however thanks to Khom we can figure it out. In "Love Sand", the story of Khom and Connor meeting and falling in love takes place when Khom is 19 years old. Many characters of Love Sea appear as side characters, including Palm and Mut. Palm is described as a boy around 17 years old, while Mut is "a few years older than him and around Khom's age". Fast forward to Love Sea (that chronologically takes place a while after the events of Love Sand), Mut describes Khom as his "younger close friend and brother". Also, in the prologue of Love Sea, Tongrak tells us that Khom is a decade younger than him. Since Rak is about to turn 31 and the two boys are around the same age, with Mut being apparently slightly older, Mahasamut should be around 21-22 years old, making the age gap between Mutrak around 9 or 10 years!

DISCLAIMER🚨: I have not read Love Sand, all the infos I have written come from people I know that have read it. Therefore, I apologize if something is incorrect🙇🏽‍♀️

Can you read the report and understand it?

Fortunately for Mook, Mahasamut had decided to go to the hospital alone and not drag her along. Said report was currently being examined by Tongrak and poor Mook couldn't help but wonder why her boss was smiling like that. How could a report make him so happy? She didn't understand anything of what was written, she didn't know a thing about STDs. How could she, she had never even had sex with anyone. Her confusion faded when Mahasamut explained he was clean, only to be quickly replaced by embarrassment at his next words.

"Maybe next time we can skip the rubber. I promise I'll pull out"

Yet, nothing could prepare her for Rak's answer

"Who said you have to?"

Mut kept teasing Mook for a while after that, while Rak observed them in the distance

"They get along very well. This is nice. The room isn't quiet anymore."

What if I say I won't agree to it?

Mut read the contents of the contract: Tongrak would provide him sixty thousand bahts monthly as compensation and cover all of his living expenses, including housing, food and even education, if he wished to pursue it. However, Mut had obligations as well: not disturbing Rak during working hours, not doing anything Tongrak disliked and, most of all, their relationship would end immediately at the writer's discretion. There was no love, nor commitment included. Mahasamut had to supress a growl in his throat. He disliked what Rak was doing, disliked how he was treating their relationship as if there was nothing but sex between them, nothing but money. But he knew this was the only opportunity he had to get close to Tongrak and he couldn't let it slip away, even if he wouldn't have much time. So, all he could do was clench his fists and hide his thoughts with a perfectly fine smile.

So, you're saying you can love me, Khun Tongrak?

Being very fair-skinned, when all his blood rushed to his face, Rak easily turned a bright red that let everyone know he was blushing. And Mut's words had him blushing hard. Tongrak had experienced every kind of flirtation imaginable from both men and women, but just a few words from Mut were enough to leave him speechless. Had the younger boy not read the contract? Had he not realized there was no emotional attachment between them, only money? How could he be so brazen in asking for love? But, most of all, why the hell did Rak's heart skip a beat?!

Vivi was very impressed by the island boy. She knew there must have been something special between them if Rak had brought him home; just as she knew how much her friend deeply craved for someone's love, even if he refused to admit it.

"You can just call me Vi, no prefix needed. And if Rak ever dumps you, just come to Big Sis. I like you."

"That might be difficult," Mut declined, "I won't let myself get dumped so easily"

And Mahasamut had never been more serious. He wouldn't let Tongrak drift away from him.

"I didn't say you could come in" "But you didn't say I couldn't come in either"

Here Mut actually enters Rak's room and sits on his bed, while the older man is busy playing on his phone. Unable to ignore Mut's gaze any longer, Rak put his phone down and looked up at him.

"That's better. Didn't anyone tell you that when you talk, you should make eye contact with the person you're talking to?"

Finally they talk about the contract, about their conversation downstairs and about how Rak doesn't believe in love, and this all but puts a sad smile on Mut's face. So, the younger boy reaches out to hold Rak's hand and intertwine their fingers.

"I know you don't believe in love, but I never said that I don't [...], you can't stop me from loving you."

Tongrak was at a loss for words. Confusion was written all over his face. He had never dealt with a situation like this before. He had never met anyone who said they'd love him.

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

THIS. THIS IS THE MOMENT I HAD BEEN WAITING FOR.

In the novel, this does NOT happen. Or, better said, it is not a kiss on the lips. It's a kiss on Rak's temple. Now, why am i putting so much emphasis on this, you might be asking. I think this is another masterpiece of improv by our ship captain Khun Thitipong. In the novel, there is A LOT of emphasis on the fact that Mut desperately wanted to kiss Rak's lips but, since he had just made a very important speech about pursuing Rak and making him change his mind about love, Mahasamut decided that he couldn't give in to his desire. He wanted the words he had just said to embed themselves in Rak's heart. To make Rak think about him, about them, as more than just what happens in bed, and that is something that would take time. So kissing his lips had to wait. Now, after making this such a big thing, I don't think Mame would just suddenly change her mind for the show. Therefore, if 1+1 is 2 and the shit-eating grin on Fort's face and Peat's eyes are anything to go by, I assume Thitiwhipped decided to take matters into his own hands. Also, it seems Peat hinted at this himself in the reaction video for episode 4: after watching the kiss scene, Peat himself asks Fort if the kiss was scripted or just his improvisation.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk 🫳🏽🎤

[bohemianblasphemy]

Your post of finding out butcher slept with Maeve was SO GOOD.

If you’re feeling up to it could you write another angsty piece where he tells the team and reader decides she cared way more about him than he cares for her and emotionally closes herself off a bit. Butcher notices and fucks her as an apology but she can’t stop thinking that he is only with her for convenience so when he’s close she fakes an orgasm so they won’t have to talk about her feelings.

He sort of believes her and they get pulled away for a mission or meeting and he’s watching her and realizes she faked it. Maybe he’s angry with himself for not noticing before/not making her feel good so he finds her after and truly apologizes and they have passionate loving sex instead of the usual rough fuck?

If you don’t feel like it I totally understand it’s just eating away at my brain I want this lunatic to love me so badd

no bc i love this as well!

i’m so sorry this too so long my brain is literally cooked atm ✨i hope i did the prompt justice

“alright you lot, let’s get this shit on the road.”

Butcher leaned back on his chair, observing everyone that surrounded him for his presentation- His plan to infiltrate Vought Tower.

“Now, i gotta tell ya… getting this info took a bit of, let’s say gettin’ down and dirty with the enemy, the enemy being Queen Maeve.” He chuckled, gauging the reactions of the group. Some chuckled, some remained neutral… you on the other hand, had to swallow the hard lump that formed in your throat.

Trying to brush it off, you smiled and avoided his eyes- but all you could feel was the deep pain of your heart cracking open, caring more than you wanted to admit.

Butcher looked over at you, seeing the sullen expression on your face when you tried to mask how you really felt- but he kept going, talking about his night with Maeve and the information he obtained.

The casual way he talked about it cut you deeper, feeling as if whatever you both had between you was nothing. Nights that you spent with each other between the sheets, the lingering touches and glances in the office- all those moments to find that he had screwed someone else.

His words echoed in your ears, you tried to withdraw from any and all feelings toward him.

Any interactions with him were short- no eye contact, no lingering glances; trying to lessen the pain of what’s transpired.

Butcher knew that you weren’t happy, the distance that you had created and the walls you had built around yourself gnawed at his heart. Your avoidance of him and focus on the mission ahead of the group didn’t help the regret and guilt that built inside his chest, but he suppressed it- he didn’t want to feel it.

It took so much strength to not lay your heart out on the table, to scream and cry at him for what he did- not to talk about your true feelings.

With regret weighing heavily on his mind, he showed up at your apartment one night, saying nothing, only drawing you close for a kiss.

The heat of the moment blurred the resentment you felt towards him temporarily, and toward the bedroom you both went.

No time was wasted, clothes falling to the floor as butcher pushed you back onto your mattress and crawled on top of you- desperately wanting to feel you.

As your passions escalated, billy rocked himself into you and his face buried in your neck- that internal turmoil returned in full force within you.

Was he really here for you? or was this just a pity fuck? Were you just a convenient choice for him?

Your mind was filled with so many thoughts that you couldn’t concentrate on his movements. In a moment of desperation, you quickened your breath and pretended to moan, arching your body against his to make it as realistic as possible as you faked your orgasm.

He sunk his teeth into your neck as he came, grunts filling your ear. He loved the way that you sounded, not realising that it wasn’t the reality for you. He pulled away from your neck, pressing a kiss to your lips.

Looking at you he could see it in your face that something wasnt right, but before he could say anything his phone started to ring.

Answering the call, Hughie spoke on the other end talking of an emergency meeting, something that needed attention as soon as possible. Butcher hung up the phone, quickly putting on his clothes.

“Duty calls love, better get dressed.”

You didn’t say anything, just mirrored Billy’s movements as you both got ready to head out the door- en route back to Headquarters.

As you both exited the building, he turned to you.

“We can go in my car-“

“I’m taking mine alone, i’ll meet you there.” you looked at him briefly before turning the corner to your car- hopping into the drivers seat.

As you sat there, could see butchers figure in the rear view window, tears prickling in your waterline as you turned the car on.

Butcher stood there in silence, watching the engine sputter to life and tires squeal down the road. His nostrils flared as huffed in frustration as he stomped toward his car, trying to work out what was going on. Yeah, he knew they were pissed about the Queen Maeve situation- but there was something else.

After arriving at the Flatiron Building, everyone had gathered in their shared space listening to Hughie speak, but Butcher couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you as you sat across the room next to Kimiko.

His brows furrowed in contemplation, the cogs in his brain replaying your earlier encounter as he looked at your from afar.

The realisation hitting him like a sledgehammer that you didn’t truly enjoy yourself, feigning your pleasure- cracking the code of your facade.

Hughie went on for what seemed like hours before you were dismissed, you couldn’t have left the office fast enough.

Being met with the cool air you walked toward your car, but not before Butcher stopped you in your tracks.

“Oi, we need to talk.” He said softly, his arms crossed.

You sighed, pushing him out of the way to open the car door.

“No we don’t, i’m going home.” You weren’t giving in, not now.

“Just fuckin’ listen to me will ya?” he raised his voice slightly, putting his palm on the door to stop you from leaving.

“Not here Butcher, I can’t do this-“

“I-I didn’t mean to treat you like that. I thought that the Maeve shit didn’t effect ya the way it did and i just-“

“I’m not going to be a choice for you Butcher. i deserve better than that and you know it.”

“That’s not it, Love. the way i feel for ya ain’t like that.”

“Then why didn’t you notice me, Billy? The way I felt when you told me- no, the entire group that you screwed Maeve as if it was just a walk in the fucking park?”

Butcher was speechless, looking at you as his face filled up with even more regret- knowing he’d hurt you even more than he could imagine. He couldn’t speak, only look at you.

“That’s what i thought.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you choked on your words. You threw open the car door, starting the ignition as quick as possible to drive off.

Watching you drive off from the sidewalk, Butchers fists had begun to white knuckle. He was angry at himself, knowing that he fucked up and hurt one of the only people that he cared for.

He knew that he couldn’t just let you walk away like that, he wasn’t giving up as he made his way to your apartment.

His hand rapped at your wooden door, his heart pounding as he waiting for you to answer- hoping you would open the door for him.

You were on the other side, looking at him through the peephole. The internal debate on whether or not to open the door raged on within you-

The door opened just a crack, just enough to see butchers sullen face.

“Cmon love, let me in. You know we gotta sort this.”

You looked at him for a few moments and opened the door as he walked in, silently standing at the kitchen counter. Wether or not you were going to regret letting him in was gonna be

You stood a few feet awake from him, looking at him so he could speak. The silence in that moment was deafening.

“I’m sorry.” he piped up, sighing as he rubbed his face in his hands. “I thought you’d understand, Maeve and myself was just an intel exchange- and today when i came over i didn’t look after you properly, i know that ya faked it.”

“Billy it doesn’t matter…” you murmured, wiping a tear away.

“No it fuckin’ does matter, because whether ya like it or not i care for ya, more than ya know.”

He walked over to you, putting your face in his hands.

“I should have taken care of you, the way that you deserve. I fucked it up, love.”

You looked at him, seeing the sencerity in his eyes as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

“I-i just don’t want to be your backup… the other choice.”

“There is no other choice, sweetheart. the only one is you.” He nearly choked on his words, but stalled the lump in his throat.

“I will do anything, absolutely anything to get you to trust me again… let me love you, the way you deserve to. Let me make it right, please…”

The look in his eyes was full of sincerity, he wanted you to feel his love - His hands wrapped around your torso, pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes met his as the turmoil that boiled within you faded.

“Then show me.” your voice barely above a whisper.

That was all he needed, placing his palm on the back of your neck and pulling you in for a searing kiss and backing you up towards the wall.

It was unlike any other kiss you had shared with him- not half hearted, it was raw and real.

Quickly shedding yourself and him of all clothes, he carried you toward the bedroom- placing you gently onto the soft mattress.

He wanted to take his time with you, savouring how you felt and the way you tasted as his lips travelled between your thighs. “God i would spend eternity here… tasting your sweet pussy.” Licking a stripe up you, relishing in the taste of your essence and the moans that bounced off the walls as he continued his actions against you, not stopping until you came on his mouth.

Panting and shaking with desire you pulled him up from between your thighs and in for a kiss, tasting your arousal on his lips and tongue.

“Billy, please… i need you.” you breathed, wrapping your thighs around him. He didn’t need to be asked twice, lining himself up with you.

“God love, i can’t wait to feel you, to make you feel good. You are everything, my everything…” he praised you, wanting you to feel how he felt about you.

His cock sunk deliciously into your cunt, thrusting ever so gently and deeply to feel you entirely. The sound of slapping skin mixed with the pair of you panting and groaning from satisfaction.

Your hands travelled to his hair, pulling on it and hearing the soft groans fall from his lips, causing him to thrust faster into you. “Ah.. fuck…” he grumbled, sinking his teeth into your collarbone as he continued his actions against you- making you yelp as the pleasure and pain of his bite sent jolts through you, the knot in your stomach starting to unravel as you reached the edge of your orgasm.

“Billy, i’m go-gonna…” you moaned, biting down on his shoulder- earning a strained groan of satisfaction from him.

“Let go f’me love… please.” he was almost there, but needed you to be satisfied before he could.

Your thighs shook around his waist, the pulsating rapture flowing through you as you called his name, your fingers pulling at his dark hair as you came.

He shuddered as you grabbed onto him, his cock pulsating as hot cum coated your walls. Heavy breaths filled your ears as he came down from his high, bringing his head to face you.

“So beautiful, all mine…” he whispered, looking down at you and smiling at how you looked in your after glow. You smiled softly back, your fingers lingering along his beard.

“I’m gonna make you feel my love, Sweetheart. I love ya…” he whispered, knowing that he had a lot to show for- to prove to you how much you mean to him.

[paingoes]

Rubies - Trial I

LETS FUCKIMG GOOOOOOOOO

im so excited to write this. i should also say i feel i owe a huge debt to @lumpywhump for this post? i didnt follow it to the letter but it realllllly inspired me and helped break me out of the writers block i had w this story.

(Content: living weapon whumpee, dehumanization, discussions of past abuse)

It was busy back at base. Nothing unfamiliar. Delta kept his head down, staying closely to Kitty’s side. He had a very practiced method of shadowing. He did not look up too often to check, but he seemed to escape the notice of most people passing by. They traveled deeper into the labyrinthine halls of Galatea. 

Deeper, though, may have given the wrong impression. Really, they were going further up. The rooms seemed to grow brighter as they did, more ivory than steel. It was cleaner, somehow. The people standing about were older than the rank-and-file that made up the lower levels. 

Delta was the youngest person there. He’d expected as much. He always had been.

Earlier, he had packed what little he owned into the weighted black duffel bag, with room left to spare. They’d spent the better part of the week trying to prepare him for what came next, but they always seemed to falter before they could bring themselves to really push. Delta listened patiently as their words tied up.

“They’re going to pry,” Apollo had admitted, “It’s what they do. They want to know what happened.”

“…In detail?” Delta asked.

He had a good sense for it, truthfully. Little snapshots burned themselves into his brain. The doll half buried in the mound where the camp had been pitched. The glass shards he’d teased out from Paris’s arm when he was too drunk to care for himself. The terrier that had rolled over onto its back, unaware he’d been sent to kill it. Sierra’s perfume on the bare spot of her neck and her horsehair brush against his temple. 

“I don’t know,” Apollo had sighed, “It’s supposed to be clinical.”

It didn’t feel that clinical in the building. Natural light still poured in, not any harsh fluorescent. It was more casual than he would’ve expected. He was used to more severity — in aesthetic and in manner. But the voices in the room were chatty, familiar. Without any particular edge. 

He took note of a few of them. Some he recognized — older members of Galatea, not half as famous as Levon but still well-known. They’d all known each other for a long, long time.

He did not recognize the woman who approached him. Her hair was cut in a neat line about her chin. Dark glasses obscured her eyes.

“This is it?” She was still facing him, but the question was directed to Kitty. She did not wait for an answer.

A finely manicured hand grabbed at his face unexpectedly. He flinched from the surprise of it, but otherwise held still. She tilted it his head to one side, then the other, examining him. He didn’t meet her eyes — or where they would’ve been if the glasses didn’t obscure them.

“Hello???? What the fuck?” Kitty’s tail puffed up in anger, stepping forward. 

“Hm?” The woman looked confused. She did not let go.

“Get off him?!?!?” Kitty’s voice rose several decibels. He realized with a start that her claws had come out.

The woman released him, but her puzzled expression did not change. Delta bowed his head a little, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Why?” She asked.

“He’s sentient,” Apollo seemed to immediately understand the confusion, “Was I not clear enough about that? Did I not explain this properly over the phone?”

“You are?” The woman looked at him again. Delta nodded slowly.

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to be.”

Delta didn’t respond. Sentient. His own sentience felt like a finely guarded secret. He’d been coached to act like it did not exist. He knew any glimpse of awareness from him was not a comforting sight to the public. Nobody wanted a bomb that could think. He could, though. It seemed like he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

The woman started to say more, then grew too embarrassed by the faux pas. She hurriedly excused herself. 

“Sorry. You’re okay?” Apollo leaned in. 

He nodded, again. He hadn’t really minded. It was all standard fare.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” Apollo said. He was being very precise with his words, “People shouldn’t touch you without your permission.”

Delta nodded like he understood.

~

“Okay. I think we can get started.” Levon swayed the pointer stick back and forth in his hands. “My name is Levon. You all know me, hopefully. I’ll be presiding over the deposition, as is the power vested in me. This is just going to be our day zero. We’ll get everyone up to speed on the situation, introduce ourselves, try to establish an outline for the rest of the trial. Sound good?”

They all sat around a long table. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. He’d been to enough of these meetings before — chained to the base of the chair, normally, or left off in the corner. It felt deeply unnatural to be sitting in the chair they’d assigned him. It was uncomfortable. He was at their eye level — and somehow felt even more on display than he had been nothing more than a statement piece. There was no avoiding the curious looks they kept casting his way.

“Silas Vern,” a thin man in a long coat introduced himself at the prompting, “Prosecution.”

“Maryam Pike,” a woman dressed in all pink stood up, “I’ll be leading defense.”

Others announced themselves, all unaffiliated, none of particular import. The attention turned back to Delta. He froze up. There was no chance at all he’d be able to speak.

Apollo saved him. His eye twitched in agitation, but that was the only tell. “Apollo Castilian. Katherine Leifer. Delta.”

No surname. He let it hang in the air before sitting down.

“Perfect. So, we’ll go over the facts of the case with the assumption that you’re all hearing them for the first time.” Levon clicked something. The projector behind him turned on. It was a screenshot of the forum’s homepage.

“Around twelve months ago, Agora user-” Levon read every letter of the keysmash. Delta felt a small twinge of annoyances; he’d meant for it to be unpronounceable on purpose. “-began posting a series of threads containing confidential information on Empire’s operations. The nature of the data breach indicated a very high level of clearance within the imperial system, leading many users on the site to believe it was an internal whistleblower. The information was recorded and passed along — unattributed — to Galatea’s intelligence by a Miss Katherine Leifer.”

Kitty smirked a little.

“This was eventually adapted into an exclusivity deal in which the poster was offered immunity in exchange. He turned down the initial offer. About three months ago, he asked that it be re-extended. Under the command of Flight Officer Iza Mok — and unbeknownst to any of her superiors — that request was granted.”

The projector changed to play a video. It was very low resolution, taken from miles away, but it showed the carnage of the airship. It burned and burned in the sky, shaking and struggling until it all went out at once, falling into the ocean. 

“An attack was launched on the Centurion Ball. There were no survivors,” Levon said flatly, not sounding too upset by it, “The asset was retrieved, at which point it was revealed that the user possessed extreme psychic ability. Later disclosure confirmed the identity of Δ-107. Our intelligence up until that point had suspected the designation represented a weapon of mass destruction, but we had no explicit knowledge of its design or purpose until now.”

Levon closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he was looking straight at Delta.

“We had no knowledge or expectation that he was alive. Records suggest that he has been marked as imperial property from the age of thirteen onwards. Intelligence uncovered proof of purchase from the now defunct Beldam Institution.”

Oh, it had been ages since he’d heard that name. No one inside of it ever called it by name. It was simply The Institute. Nothing else existed outside of it. He felt strangely sick.

“The full extent of destruction is currently unknown. It seems unlikely that it can even be uncovered. What we do know is the destructive potential suggested by the power readings — and some confirmed incidents. The objective of this trial is to agree upon a just course of action that can ensure the safety of all parties. Any questions?”

He looked around expectantly, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“None? Okay. Silas and Maryam have both been appointed by me, in light of their expertise. We’ll spend the next meetings going over both sides of their arguments. The rest of you are expected to remain impartial to anything but the evidence and the arguments presented. Likewise, if you have any questions or concerns you feel need to be urgently addressed, you need to bring them up now. My hope is that we can get this out of the way in one shot. I don’t want this to be an ongoing discussion. And — I hope this goes without saying — none of this leaves this room. Clear?”

Like that it was dismissed. The older members of the board started to file out, some casting last looks over their shoulder that Delta plainly ignored. Kitty’s hand found his own as she rose to stand.

“Hang back a sec,” Levon said.

She sat back down. As the room emptied, Levon sat too. He leaned one elbow against the back of the chair.

“How are you feeling?” He asked casually.

Nobody answered for him this time. He thought he’d have made it through today without having to speak. He wished he’d stop getting questions like that. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to answer them.

“I’m okay,” he mouthed it more than he said it.

Levon’s eyes switched to Kitty and Apollo, who he knew were far more likely to object. Apollo clicked the pen against the table.

“…I don’t understand what the prosecution is meant to be arguing. You said this wasn’t a punitive trial.”

“He’s arguing for more strict security measures. It isn’t a punishment.” He studied Delta as he said it. 

Delta didn’t care, really, how strict anything was. He’d come to surrender. He’d expected to be imprisoned for the rest of his life, if not killed outright. The trial struck him as a formality that they need not take. He wouldn’t have fought them on anything they decided. They needed no pretense of fairness for that. He already knew what he deserved.

“You mind if I talk to you alone?” Levon asked. 

Delta nodded, ignoring the quiet protests Apollo was making with his eyes. Kitty squeezed his hand again.

“I’ll cya,” she promised. He believed her.

Levon led him out of the conference room, out into the hall. Delta stayed close to him, careful as if there’s be a tug at his collar if he let himself fall too far back. There was a faint industrial hum throughout the whole building.

“Is there anything I can do that would make this easier for you?” Levon asked quietly. “I know it’s going to be difficult either way. I’m sorry to put you through it. But if it has to happen, is there anything that would help?”

The question caught him severely off-guard. He stepped quietly into the elevator that Levon held open for him. He shook his head.

“…I don’t need anything, sir.” 

It was so hard being talked to like a person, though he was familiar enough with being talked at. He didn’t know how to respond in kind. He’d never gotten so many questions before. He was too nervous to answer most of them, too confused to even understand what they were getting at. He kept getting his wires crossed.

They went up a few floors — the one where Delta’s new room was kept, the same floor Levon’s office was on. They stepped out.

“You’ll tell me if you do?” Levon tried instead. It was easier, the yes-or-no questions. Those he could handle.

“Yes, sir.” Delta agreed. He didn’t think it would happen, which made it much easier to confirm.

Levon held open Delta’s bedroom door for him. He was slightly taller than the door frame; he’d have to duck down if he wanted to come inside.

“The room’s okay? For now?” He asked, “You know how to use the buzzer?”

The new room was sterile and clean, white and ascetic. It was expensive, more than Galatea was typically willing to shell out. There wasn’t much inside of it, no decorations, but there were CDs and a projector and books enough to entertain him. No internet. Levon said to wait.

“Yes, sir.”

He did know how to use the buzzer, if he needed anything. But he didn’t. He was used to the solitude. 

“Okay. Phone’s always on. Anything at all, let me know.” It seemed like he was going to say something else for a minute, but it didn’t happen. “Bye.”

The door locked behind him.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @flowery-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

[captn-trex]

read between the lines

Fox x F!Reader

word count: 8.1k

description: the library is your favourite place to escape to when the galaxy gets too loud, and it just so happens to be the same for a certain marshal commander

warnings: sfw, fox being anxious & being frustrated about it, nervous (kinda non-sensical) ramblings from fox's pov incl. self-deprecating comments (basically projecting my anxiety onto him oops), but it ends cute and nerdy :)

a/n: really wanted to write a fox fic after seeing this post by @welcometo79s about fox being an introvert - I thought the idea was super interesting so here we have an anxious lil fox :) I could yap so much more but my notes are always too long so I'm gonna shut up

Going to the library was one of your favourite pastimes. Especially on a planet like Coruscant, which never seemed to slow down.

You had discovered this little corner of the planet years ago, and you spent more time here than you cared to admit. There were a number of libraries of Coruscant, but none of them as quiet and authentic as this one. You had truly struck gold in finding it, entirely by accident.

The feel of a real book, the feel of flimsi between your fingers, was an experience you relished in this technological day and age. You didn't have anything against technology, it was an integral part of your life and job after all, but holding something so precious and unique in your hands was something else entirely.

This particular library was not very large, though boasted an impressive catalogue of titles nonetheless. You loved curling up by the heater on cold evenings, in one specific cosy red armchair. It was a little more hidden, a reading nook of sorts, and it made the experience feel all the more special. Just you and a book, the outside world, the war, slipping from your mind easily.

In the last few weeks, there was a new regular that had started coming. At first, you were alarmed, his bright red armour alerting you to the fact that he belonged to the Coruscant Guard, but when he picked up a book and settled himself in a window seat, you had relaxed.

You had to admit, you found yourself watching him quite a lot. After a number of times seeing him, you had figured out exactly who he was. It was entirely surprising to you that the Commander of the Coruscant Guard frequented such a place, though he always walked in as if it was exactly where he should be, so you came to respect that.

Going to the library had become part of your daily routine, spending your evenings there as it was much quieter than spending them in your apartment. The people you lived with were particularly loud, not to mention the noise of the city outside the window. However, in the weeks that Commander Fox had begun to do the same thing, you found your reason for going shifting.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by him. You were always too far away to see what he was reading, and he never took his helmet off. You wondered how he could read through it, but you presumed that if it had been made for battle then a book probably wouldn't be a problem.

One day, as he was leaving, you noticed him acting a little odd. He peered around to see if anyone was looking his way, not noticing you at all, and then he pocketed a stylus that the person who sat there before him had left. You smirked, watching him leave the library with a little extra hurriedness to his steps. After that, you decided that you needed to know what it was he was reading all this time, your intrigue finally becoming strong enough.

When you entered the library the next day, he was already sat in his regular seat, one leg stretched out on the seat and the other foot planted on the ground. He held the book in one hand, the other absentmindedly playing with the stylus that he had stolen the previous day. You found the book you had been reading, and made your way towards his position, your stomach turning just a little.

The window bay that he sat in was reasonably large, with a wooden frame and covered with pillows. You made your way to the opposite side from him and took your seat. His head raised from his book quickly in surprise, and you offered him a smile, before opening up your book and finding where you had left it.

Unbeknownst to you, and contrary to your own thoughts, Fox had noticed you. It was hard not to; you were here everyday, and he found you to be distracting, to say the least. He had often watched you sneaking glances at him, the secrecy afforded by his helmet allowing his cheeks to heat up without detection. It was the reason he rarely took his helmet off really, he didn't want anybody to he able to read him, he had a hard enough time conveying his thoughts through words without people watching him try to do it.

Fox had always been somewhat of an introvert, a stark contrast to his brothers. He didn't know how he had ended up not sharing in his brothers’ natural outgoing demeanour, but it was something that affected him constantly. He managed to have a commanding presence and confidence in his work through his rigorous training on Kamino, and he now had enough experience in his role that it felt safe, natural. Though at the end of a long day, when his brothers went out to 79s, he much preferred to be by himself. He craved so deeply to have his own space, and finding this library recently had afforded him some semblance of that.

Fox drew his knee up towards his chest so that he wasn't invading any of your personal space, despite the feeling that that was exactly what you had just done to him. He watched you from behind his visor, intrigued and confused. You didn't look up from your book once, leafing through the pages gradually as you took in the information on them. You were reading something non-fiction, something to do with theories about wild space and beyond. Somehow that surprised Fox - he didn't know what he expected you to be reading but it wasn't that. After his heart had stopped racing at the thought of having to talk to someone, he let his eyes drift back to his own book.

For the entirety of the evening, you didn't talk to Fox, nor did you so much as look at him. He found it to be equally relieving and maddening. He was glad that you both seemed to just be enjoying each other's presence without the need for conversation, but he couldn't understand why you had joined him.

He knew his armour made him stand out among the civilians, and usually people seemed to be scared of him because of it, as if he would arrest them for looking at him the wrong way. It was a blessing and a curse. People left him alone, but he stood out nonetheless. He got what he wanted, but was constantly being perceived in ways he didn't know as he did.

He wondered what your angle was.

When he had seen you watching him, he had initially thought it was for the same reason: that you were scared of him. However, he soon realised that you looked at him with no contempt, no ill-will, and now that you had come and sat yourself within his presence, he was even more interested to know what was going on in your head.

After a number of hours - he had lost count how many - he noticed you rising from your seat. You placed down the cushion that you had set in your lap as you read, and cast a glance over to him. With how he had rested his book in his lap and looked up, it was obvious he was looking at you, and you gave him another sweet smile.

He was overtaken by the need to speak with you. Your kind gestures seemed to be an obvious response to the way he was acting, and that you were respecting the fact that he didn't want to talk. Unfortunately, before he could work up the courage, you had gone back over to the bookshelf and put the book back in its place, leaving shortly thereafter.

Fox sighed audibly, and it came out as a small hiss through the filter of his helmet. Despite liking his own space, he had enjoyed having someone else with him, just sitting in silence while you both focused on your own things. He didn't have that kind of interaction with any of his brothers, they were often far too excitable for him.

He loved his brothers dearly, they meant a lot to him, but being around them all of the time tired him out, and sometimes it was nice to get away from them. He found himself thinking that perhaps he didn't always have to do it by himself. Perhaps it was possible to spend time with someone who didn't drain his energy. Someone like you.

When Fox arrived at the library the next day, you were already there, sat in your regular seat. He watched you for a moment, the corners of your lips lifting as you read something from your book. You looked so kind, so approachable. He didn’t feel as though you were trying to draw him in in any particular way, at least not in a way that would ordinarily have him feeling flustered. It didn't seem that you sought anything that would draw him out of his comfort zone at all. With that in mind, he just truly felt like indulging in your simple company once more, and so he did.

He approached the corner of the library where you were slightly hidden away, and he settled himself in the armchair opposite you. You looked up to watch him do so, and smiled warmly when his visor turned towards you. The crinkles at the edges of your eyes gave away how pleased you were that he had decided to join you, and he relaxed a little, his body moulding into the chair as he opened up his book.

As you had the previous day, you both engrossed yourselves in your books. The worries of today and tomorrow washed away and you just soaked up the words on the page. You were curled up in your chair, a cushion held to your stomach as you often did, whereas Fox had his legs outstretched, one over the other, his hand tucked under his arm as the other held his book. You were both just comfortable.

As the day wound to a close, you flicked your eyes to the clock, and thought that you best be getting home.

Fox watched you raise from your seat, placing the cushion back onto it neatly. His stomach lurched a little, once again feeling the urge to speak to you. He felt exceedingly stupid as he couldn't bring himself to do it, and he was floundering for something, anything to say.

“Wait!” He heard himself say, a little louder than he would've liked, especially for in a library. You turned back to him, your eyes finding his visor as you waited for him to continue.

Fox's brain drew a blank. He couldn't think let alone speak right now. However, you just gave him a patient smile, not expecting anything. It calmed his mind enough to ask a simple question.

“What's your name?”

Your smile grew a little before you replied, you voice even more kindly than he could have imagined - soft, yet assured. He couldn't help but let the corner of his mouth raise a little under his helmet. After a moment, he realised that you weren't asking his name, and his smile dropped, slightly panicking for something to say again. He would've given anything to be as outgoing as his brothers at this very moment, or any subsequent one.

“Well” You cleared your throat as he just looked up at you, and a small smirk wound its way onto your face. “I suppose I'll see you around, Commander Fox” You gave him a little mock salute as you turned away.

Fox could feel his cheeks burning, his mind now in overdrive. You knew who he was the whole time? Somehow he felt especially embarrassed more than anything, and slumped back into his chair with a huff. What was he supposed to say to you now? How much did you know about him? If you knew who he was, why did you sit with him? And why didn't you say anything?

Endless questions swirled around in his head, stopping him from enjoying his book for the rest of the evening. Even as he tried to sleep in his bunk, all he could do was stare up at the ceiling, his cheeks still burning as he thought of how stupid he must've sounded asking your name and sitting by you, when you knew exactly who he was.

He desperately wanted to know what you thought of him. Surely if you knew his name then you'd know other things about him? But what did you know? Had you heard that he was somewhat removed or lonely and thought he could use a friend? Because that would be positively mortifying.

Fox ran a hand over his face. He shouldn't be thinking like this. For all that he avoided them, he cared far too much what people thought of him. He wished he could stop doing that.

Fox had thought about not going to the library the next day, but after a long talk with himself in the mirror, he decided that it didn't matter what you thought of him, and he wasn't going to let it ruin what he had come to know as his little corner of the galaxy.

He was already there when you arrived, as you had come a bit later than usual. That had only struck Fox with an unpleasant feeling in his gut, but he wasn't going to let on.

You slowly approached his window seat with your book tucked in your hands. His head didn’t raise until you spoke.

“Is it alright if I sit with you?”

Fox's head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his eyes a little wide behind his visor. He elected not to speak, and instead nodded his head and gestured vaguely to the other side of the window.

Unlike the last couple of days, Fox was positively unfocused on his book. It was maddening, all he wanted to do was relax, especially after his sleepless night and the stack of flimsiwork that had awaited him on his desk this morning. He couldn't be so lucky, you had to go and distract him. Of course it wasn't your fault, and Fox knew that, he was just annoyed that he couldn't shut his mind off for once second. Ever.

After around 45 minutes had passed, and Fox had finally settled into reading his book, he noticed you watching him, and he internally groaned. He had just started relaxing.

He raised his head to let you know he saw you looking at him, and you smiled warmly before speaking.

“Can I ask you a question?”

That made him nervous, the slight anticipation making his head nod quickly to release it.

“Is your helmet comfortable?” You asked, resting your book in your lap.

Whatever he thought you were going to ask, it wasn't that.

“Uh… yeah, it's fine” He replied awkwardly.

“Cool” You nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and opened your book back up.

Fox just stared at you. Was there not any other reason for you asking that? Did you actually just want to know if his helmet was comfortable or not? Why couldn't he stop questioning your motivation for doing anything?

“How do you know my name?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

Your expression was sheepish when you looked back up at him again, and you fumbled slightly with your book, losing your page. You let out a small huff at that, “I don't know, I think everyone kind of knows who you are”

That was probably the worst reason you could have given. Fox cringed, his body folding in on itself fractionally even though he tried to stay rigid and strong.

He looked back down to his book and tried to read, but now it just felt like the awkward silence was swallowing him whole. He couldn't focus on the page, his mind swirling with various words that he tried to string together to reply to what you had said.

After a few minutes of that, Fox was fed up. He practically slammed his book closed and strutted over to the desk to return it, not looking back as he left.

The next night, you were still put out by the Commanders actions. You went to the library anyway, convinced that he probably wouldn't be going, that you had well and truly scared him off. You didn't know exactly why, or rather how, you had done it, but you could tell he'd been frustrated by it. You hadn't hardly said anything to him, but you supposed that you had managed to offend him in those few short words.

Thankfully, it soon slipped from your mind as you curled your legs into your chest and dove into the new book you had picked up today.

If Fox had been embarrassed by you knowing who he was, he was positively beside himself with mortification now. He had blocked it out the entire day, holing up in his ‘office’ and burying himself in his flimsiwork so he couldn't possibly let another thought into his head.

As it got to the end of the day, Fox couldn't stop watching the clock. Time was creeping along at a painfully slow pace, and that was as he was already staying late. It felt like torture, working late just to stop himself thinking. His brain was at maximum capacity, and all he wanted to do was rest.

“Commander” A voice called out, and Fox's head lifted slowly to see Thorn standing in front of his desk, “Maker, you look rough”

Fox scowled, “I thought I told you to knock”

“I vaguely remember you saying that…” Thorn said, a mocking grin growing with each word. “You do know this isn’t a door right?” He said, knocking on the wall that only vaguely separated Fox’s desk from the others.

Fox just rolled his eyes, “What do you want?”

“We're clocking out now, you fancy coming to 79s?” Thorn asked hopefully.

“You already know the answer” Fox looked down at his flimsiwork again.

Thorn huffed, “Come on vod, just this once?”

“I've got work to do” Fox replied.

“That's what you always say”

Fox gave Thorn a tired look, “Another time”

“You always say that as well” Thorn remarked.

Fox sighed aggressively, “Look, I'm really not in the mood for this tonight”

“Alright, alright” Thorn put his hands up in surrender, “I'll get you next time”

“I doubt it” Fox mumbled under his breath as his brother left.

He picked up his stylus. It was the one he had stolen from the library, or more accurately, whoever had left it at the library. He let a sigh escape him. It was filled with mixed emotions, positive memories of the library tinged by his own stupidity.

He twirled the stylus in his hand, manoeuvring it through his fingers. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world to go to the library, to seek the respite he so desperately desired. If you were there, he could just ignore you, it couldn't be that hard.

Once that thought had entered his mind and he'd let it grow for just a second, he rose to his feet, grabbing his helmet from the edge of his desk. When he stepped out of his corner, the chattering voices he could hear stopped, and the two remaining clones in the office looked towards him.

“Ah, Commander, you decided to join us after all” Thorn grinned.

“Uh, no. I’m going out” Fox replied, continuing to walk towards the door.

“Where to?” Stone asked, pushing himself from his desk.

“Just- out” Fox replied, much more rigidly than he would've liked. It sounded extremely suspicious coming out.

“Out? Like on a date?” Thorn asked.

“No!” Fox barked back, almost stopping in his place.

“Oh my god, you are” Stone’s expression turned to a broad grin as he dashed towards the door, stopping his brother from leaving.

“I'm not” Fox insisted, a sharp glare directed at Stone.

“You're blushing” He pointed out, which only intensified Fox’s glare. Stone pushed his brother's shoulder lovingly, “Aw vod, I'm so happy for you”

Fox rolled his eyes, pushing past his brother and grumbling to himself as he could hear the two of them laughing at his expense. He loved his brothers, but they really got on his last nerve sometimes.

When he got to the library, it was much later than he usually arrived, which the librarian commented on as he checked out his book. He just gave her a polite nod, not really pleased at his patterns being recognised.

He had planned to just ignore you, but when he saw you sitting in your usual seat, curled up and peaceful, reading your book as if you were the only two things in the galaxy, he couldn't help but feel drawn to you once more. He walked over to you in a few long strides, and cleared his throat. Your head shot up, eyes a little wide.

“Commander” You said, a little unsurely as it wasn't entirely clear if he wasn't upset with you or not. You couldn't tell from under the helmet.

“Please don't call me that” He replied in a somewhat affronted tone, though he must have seen how taken aback you were because he instantly backtracked, “I mean- No, just- Fox is fine, please”

“Okay then” You smiled, “Hi Fox”

Fox returned the smile, even though you couldn’t see it, “May I join you?”

You nodded, gesturing to the armchair opposite you. Fox sat down, leaning forward and clearly not finished speaking.

“I am… sorry, for leaving abruptly yesterday”

You couldn't stop your face from twitching with amusement, “You don't have to be sorry”

“Right… yeah” His hand snaked to the back of his neck on instinct as he spoke awkwardly.

“I do hope I didn't offend you though” You added, drawing your eyebrows together.

“Offend me?” Fox seemed genuinely confused.

“About… knowing who you are” You jogged his memory.

“Oh, no” Fox shook his head lightly. It had sent him spiralling, but you didn't need to know that.

“Good” You smiled sweetly and flicked your eyes back down to your book.

Fox watched you for a moment longer then opened his book, finding his place and continuing on.

What he liked the most about you, not that he knew much else, was that you seemed content just being in each other's space, and not needing to talk to fill the time. Talking wasn't his strong suit, it stressed him out at the best of times, even when he pretended it didn't. Particularly then, in fact. Somehow, without even communicating with each other verbally, this was the most meaningful connection he had shared with someone new in a long time. He didn't know that you thought that way too, but somehow he felt that you did.

Not too long later, the librarian came to tell you both that the library would be closing soon. Fox nodded and stood from his seat, but paused in going to hand his book back in when he realised you weren't moving. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

“Aren't you coming?” He questioned, his voice clearly showing his confusion.

You looked up to him, your lips curling into a smile, “I'm not quite done here yet”

Fox frowned, then sat back down opposite you, his knees spread and elbows leant against them, a stance he often took when questioning someone.

“You'll be chucked out by the librarian” He stated.

You shook your head gently, “I can be sneaky”

“Then you'll be locked in” He tried to find reason in whatever idea you had up your sleeve.

“Eh” You shrugged, “I can pick the lock”

Fox tilted his head. Even though you couldn't see the confusion on his face, you still found the action a little cute.

“You realise I could have you arrested for that”

Fox could see your eyes flash with a small amount of alarm as you remembered exactly who was sitting in front of you, but it was gone as soon as it came, and instead you narrowed them a little.

“Well, that would be a little pointless” You said as if it were obvious.

Fox’s eyebrows raised instinctively, “And why is that?”

“Because you'd have to arrest yourself too” You stated, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a grin overtaking your face.

“Wha-”

Before he could even finish the word, you had jumped up and grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the rows of bookshelves and pulling him in between two of them.

He wanted to protest, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was once again thankful for the shield that was his helmet, because he knew that his cheeks must have been bright red with the way you were looking up at him. Your face bore the widest grin, your eyes crinkled at your own mischief, and he was hopeless to do anything about it now.

Fox’s head was telling him to leave, that breaking the law, something that he dedicated his life to upholding, was not a good idea. Though between your excitement and the secret thrill it was giving him, his heart was aching to stay. So he did.

He watched you as you glanced around and listened out for the librarian. Somehow the only thing in his mind was that if he rocked forwards onto the balls of his feet that he'd probably be touching you, or at least feel the heat of your body. The thought was disturbed when the lights cut out and the librarian could be heard walking nearby. You grabbed his arm again, tugging him down the shelves to hide against the other end.

You were grinning, resting your temple against the end of the shelves and looking up at him.

“Having fun?”

Fox just hummed in reply as he copied your posture, not giving much away. You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained, and you kept listening out for the librarian. Soon enough, the clunk of the outdated technology of lock and key slotting together rang out in the darkness of the library, and you stood up straight, walking back over to your regular spot.

By the time Fox caught up with you, you had turned on a nearby lamp and were already sat back in the chair with your book open. He just sat opposite you, watching you through his visor.

The library was usually quiet, but now it was dead silent, and Fox couldn't help but relish in that fact. Even the sounds of the city couldn't be heard in here. It was an entirely peaceful moment, something he rarely got the opportunity to indulge in.

Fox peered around the library, making sure nobody else was lingering after closing, and then hooked his thumbs under the base of his helmet, pulling it off with a quiet hiss. The noise made your head raise, seeming loud in the quiet environment.

It was hard not to stare. You knew more or less what he looked like, he was a clone after all, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him. His dark curls, streaked by silver, his eyes a dark brown and his battle worn skin. He was gorgeous, so rugged yet so stately, and so unique in his appearance as compared to the brothers of his that you had met.

He noticed you examining his face and immediately went to put his helmet on.

“No!” You called out, a little more desperately than you hoped for. Fox gave you a weary and puzzled look, and you could have melted right there. It was strange to see the emotion on his face when he had always concealed it from you.

“Sorry” You coughed out, a little flustered, “I didn't mean to stare”

Despite your words, you continued to observe him, inspecting his face. Every mark, every scar, every feature drawing you in.

Fox tilted his head to the side a fraction, a small crease forming in his brow, “You're still staring”

“Right, sorry” You looked down to your book and scanned your eyes across the page, trying to find where you had been when you got distracted by the sheer beauty of the man before you. It certainly wasn't helpful to think of it in those terms when you were trying not to look at him.

Fox let one side of his mouth quirk up at your reaction to him. He hadn't really expected you to care all that much, but your darkened cheeks were telling him that perhaps you did. He spoke your name, and the sound of his voice unfiltered by his helmet sent a shiver running up your spine.

“Hm?” You replied, glancing up.

“How often do you stay after closing?”

“Oh, not that often” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Why tonight?” He pressed.

You hesitated, “Well, you didn't come until late, and… I feel like that was kinda my fault”

Fox couldn't help the way his stomach flipped, even if he didn't know exactly why it had. He placed his book down on the table next to him.

“It's not your fault” He asserted, “I had a lot of work to do”

It wasn't exactly a lie, but he wasn't going to tell you that he had been trying to banish you from his head all day.

“But thank you. It's not often that I get to-” He gestured his hand vaguely around the library, “Experience the quiet like this”

“No problem” You smiled, setting your book down as well. It seemed you both were now more interested in each other's company than that of the books you had chosen.

Fox bit the inside of his cheek, a little nervous under your undivided attention. The feeling in his stomach was akin to his usually anxiety around socialising, but it felt different, not entirely unpleasant.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” You replied, “I'm an open book”

Fox let out a breathy chuckle, the amusement dancing in your eyes letting him know that your pun wasn't accidental.

“What do you do?”

“Like… for work?” You asked.

“Yeah, I guess” Fox shrugged. He didn’t really mind what you talked about, he just wanted to know more about you.

“Um” You looked away, flexing your hands nervously, “Nothing. I mean- you know, nothing interesting… or important”

Fox hummed, giving you a sceptical look, “Something tells me breaking into libraries in the middle of the night isn’t the only illegal thing you do”

“Okay, first of all - I don’t break in, I only break out-”

“Not much better really” Fox shrugged, trying to keep the smirk from his lips unsuccessfully.

”Sure, maybe not” You smirked, “But it’s hardly malicious. It’s nothing like, say… Stealing someone’s private property, such as a stylus or something like that…”

A blush dusted Fox’s cheeks immediately, now knowing you had indeed caught him doing exactly that. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to find a way to explain himself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone” You teased, resting your hand on his knee for a second to draw his attention back to you, “Besides, who would I tell? We’ve already established that you’re not going to arrest yourself”

Fox dragged his gaze back to you, the gentle touch only making his cheeks burn hotter. He gave you a weary sort of look, but the edge of his lips curled upwards nonetheless.

“Why did you steal it?” You then asked, devoid of any of the teasing tone you had previously employed.

“Uh” Fox ran a hand through his hair, “Well… I don’t really have anything that’s… Mine”

You gave him a puzzled look, “How do you mean?”

Fox cleared his throat, “I mean… I don’t really have possessions, I share all of my time and my space with my brothers. I don’t have a place that is mine, to put anything that might be mine”

He paused for a moment, conscious that he may be oversharing, but your even gaze, the way you were sitting forward and listening attentively told him that perhaps you didn’t mind. That you were interested in what he was saying.

“I have an office, sort of, but not really. It’s just a tiny area in the corner of the Guard’s office, so it’s a little closed off, and it barely even fits my desk, but- anyway. I just take what I can get I suppose” He wrapped up his rambling.

“I can understand that”

“You can?” He asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ve… never had a space to myself either really”

“You don’t have an apartment or something?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Not to myself. I live with three other people, and they’re very… loud. That’s why I come here”

“Yeah, same here I suppose” Fox smiled, then his face fell a little, “Hold on- We didn’t get to the bottom of what you do for work”

You chuckled a little nervously, “I’m a mechanic”

Fox gave you a dubious look, “That doesn’t sound illegal”

“It’s not” You sighed, “It’s just… my boss is a little dodgy”

Fox took a moment to shift in his seat, trying to appear casual, “What kind of dodgy? Who… is it?”

You just smirked at him, “You’re not getting it out of me that easily I’m afraid, Commander”

Fox wanted to chuckle, but he was also suddenly struck by the fact that he had no reason to believe you had any moral integrity or that you actually were any sort of good person.

“You don’t think they should be brought to justice?” He spoke with trepidation.

You smiled a little, “Yeah, I guess I do, but then I would be out of a job”

“You could get another one” Fox reasoned.

“It’s not that simple” You stated, “I don’t live with three people for the fun of it after all”

Fox was confused, you could see that much woven into the frown he gave you.

“I can’t afford anything else” You completed the thought, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Oh, right” Fox replied.

Fox didn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t faced that kind of issue before in his own life, so he couldn’t say he fully understood. He wasn't shy of people turning to crime because of money, their were often few other reasons, though it certainly gave a new perspective to the way he looked at his role of what had turned into a short jump from policeman.

“Anyway” You said more cheerily, “It isn't such a bad job, I do get to spend my evenings here”

Fox smiled at that, “How long have you been coming here?”

“A few years” You replied.

It wasn't long before you were talking animatedly, sharing little details of your life with Fox. He could feel himself coming out of his shell the more you talked, enamoured by the way you spoke and the things you had to say. He found himself agreeing with many of the observations you made, even if he didn't say so. It was also hard to ignore how drawn to you he now felt, in a way he hadn't experienced with many others, possibly anyone. He told you details about himself too, a little bit about his brothers, about a book that he had heard of but couldn’t find, about what he does in the Coruscant Guard.

You were explaining a passage of your favourite book, and the way the light was hitting you face was making it hard for Fox to concentrate on your words fully.

“Do you think that was the right thing for them to do?” He asked, a crease in his brow to show his engagement.

“Well, no. Probably not, but that's what the book is questioning” You explained, then noted Fox's slightly dazed expression, “Maybe they should take a page out of your book and just start stealing” You raised your eyebrows a little, and Fox laughed defeatedly, both as his own habits and your terrible library humour.

“I can't believe you saw me do that and still came and sat with me” He joked, the outright sarcasm feeling unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Oh no, that was what made me do it” You admitted a little theatrically.

“Really?” He cocked his head to the side, giving you a genuine disbelieving look.

“Yeah, it interested me. I wanted to know what the Commander of the Coruscant Guard was doing stealing from a library” You chuckled, “It was just… not what I expected, I guess”

“What did you expect?” He asked with a teasing edge, “The armour does tend to give a certain impression”

“Oh no, I would never judge a book by its cover” You put your hand to your chest in mock offense, a smile still pulling at your lips.

He rolled his eyes, “Do you always have such terrible humour?”

“I think it's funny” You shrugged, covering your mouth as a yawn escaped it. You blinked a few times, and it was only then that you realised it was most likely very late. Checking your watch, you saw that it was past midnight and you sat forward in your chair, “I should be getting home really”

Fox was tired as well, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet. Though, he didn't want to keep you if you were tired, and he wasn't exactly fully awake himself.

“Can I escort you back?” He suggested.

You smiled as you stood up, “Sure, that'd be nice”

Fox followed suit, grabbing his helmet, and letting you lead the way to the door, both of you returning your books to the shelf on the way.

“My very own Coruscant Guard escort, lucky me” You muttered, eyelids heavy with sleep as you looked up at him with a smirk.

Fox’s lips formed a similar expression. He rolled his eyes, though it wasn’t as spiteful as when he had directed it at his brother earlier on in the night. He had completely forgotten about the aspect of having to pick the lock, so was a little surprised when you then produced a small tool from your pocket and knelt down, slotting it into the keyhole.

“Should I be worried that you carry around a lock pick?” He asked, placing his helmet over his head.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I only use it for this. Besides, it's just a regular tool, not specifically a lock pick”

The door cracked open, and you pulled the tool out, placing it back in your pocket.

It was only a few blocks to your home, and on the way you explained to Fox how you had first found the library on an evening stroll shortly after moving into your current apartment, trying to get away from your loud roommates.

You could already hear them as you approached now, music turned up loud and some form of excited squealing spilling from the windows. You cracked open the door, and winced as the noise became ten times louder. You gave Fox a sheepish expression and he chuckled a little.

“I can see why you go to the library” He noted.

“Yeah” You sighed, rubbing your neck, “They’re not so bad really, just…”

Fox nodded in understanding.

You both just stayed watching each other for a moment, neither one of you wanting to be the first to say goodbye. You stared into Fox's visor, hoping to find his eyes behind it, and by some miracle, he understood that, and took it off in one smooth motion.

You smiled up at him as his eyes emerged from beneath the mask, and his heart instinctively skipped a beat. With you looking up at him like that, and nothing to hide his own emotions, he suddenly felt exposed. His stomach erupted into what felt like his usual anxiety-ridden state, but for once, it was more exhilarating than it was scary.

“I'm glad I made you stay behind tonight” You admitted, little care for how odd the words sounded.

Fox chuckled slightly, “Yeah, me too”

There was another moment of silence, and now Fox read it as awkwardness, so he immediately began backing away.

“I- Um, I'll see you around?” He offered.

Your smile faltered for half a second before you replied, “Yeah, see you around”

Fox watched you get inside safely, and then turned on his heel to head back to his quarters.

The whole way back, and well into the night, Fox couldn't get you out of his head. Though, this time he didn't mind.

The following morning, Fox was once again buried in flimsiwork, already on his third caf and ready to pull his hair out.

“Commander” Fox heard the unmistakable voice from the ‘door’ of his office, and he could have easily groaned in frustration.

“I thought I told you to knock” He grumbled, not bothering to look up from his flimsiwork.

“Perhaps you did” Thorn shrugged, a grin evident in his voice, “But you have a visitor”

Fox's head snapped up at that.

“A visitor?”

“Mhm” Thorn confirmed in a somewhat teasing manner, “No idea how she got past security downstairs but, there's a woman asking to see you”

Fox frowned a little, but stood from his desk, walking over to look around the corner. He saw you leaning on Thorn's desk, looking around the office and a book clutched between your hands. You were in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, folded down to the waist with leather gloves tucked into the belt, and seemingly not caring one bit how your appearance made you stand out in the office.

He called your name, and your head turned towards him, along with everyone else in the office that had already been staring at the you, the person who didn't belong. Your eyes lit up a little as you saw him, and you pushed yourself from the desk, striding over to him and Thorn.

“What are you doing here?” He asked softly, leading you into his corner of the office.

“I wanted to g-”

“Actually, hold on one moment” Fox interrupted you, then walked back out into the office to find Thorn and Stone waiting just outside with their ears turned to the wall. Fox rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, making them jump away.

“Could I maybe have some privacy?” He gave them a pointed look.

Both of them mumbled a ‘yes sir’ as they slunk away, brandishing matching smirks. Fox huffed, before returning to you.

“Sorry about that” He ran a hand through his hair, “Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“I'm fine” You smiled, “I came to give you this”

You held up the book in your hands, offering it to him. Fox eyed it suspiciously, his gaze flicking between you and the book.

“Did you steal this from the library?”

You laughed gratuitously, “No. I thought we established that was your thing”

“But…” Fox frowned, “Did you buy it then? You really shouldn’t have spent your money-”

“I didn’t buy it, it’s mine” You cut him off, “Well, it was mine, it’s yours now”

You tried to hand it to him but Fox just pushed it back towards you, taking a step forward, “I couldn’t possibly take your property”

“I want you to have it” You grabbed his hand and forced him to take it, looking up into his eyes intently.

Fox’s heart stuttered at your intense gaze, aware of how your hand still rested over his as you awaited his reply. He looked down at the book, and turned it over to read the spine. His eyes quickly found yours again, and a grin had bloomed on your face.

“This is it” He breathed out, “The book I was looking for”

“It is” You nodded, finally taking your hand away from his.

“Wh- How- I didn’t even know what it was called, how did you…?”

“I guess I can read between the lines” You shrugged, your grin widening, and Fox laughed, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “I’ve read it a few times” You admitted, then flipped the book open, revealing annotations in the margins, “I went through and pointed out my favourite parts, wrote a bit about why and kinda analysed it a little”

“You wrote these notes for me?” He questioned, his voice sounding unusually small as his brows pinched together.

“Yeah” You gave him a warm smile, “That way, it’s like… personalised for you”

Fox was at a loss for words. You had really listened to him yesterday, and heard how his lack of personal effects weighed on his mind, and now you were giving him something of yours, and you had made it personal to him. His chest spread with warmth, his shoulders relaxing in a small contented sigh.

He let the book fall to his side, and he leaned forwards onto the balls of his feet, so his chest was almost against yours. He brought his hand up and gently brushed your hair away from your forehead, his hand lingering against your cheekbone. Your eyes shone up at him, and a genuine smile crossed his face.

“I'm glad I met you” Fox murmured, his voice low so that only you could hear.

“I know you are” You grinned.

Fox rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, because you can read me so well”

You chuckled, your head tipping to the side in thought, “I hadn’t thought of that one actually. Looks like you’re picking up my novel sense of humour though”

Fox scoffed a laugh, “You’re terrible”

“Maybe” You shrugged, “But I like to think that maybe you don't mind”

Fox hummed, “Perhaps not”

You grinned up at him for a moment, and then stepped back, “I should be getting back really, I'm not supposed to be here”

“You don't have to tell me that” Fox raised his eyebrows at you, “How did you manage get up here?”

“A fun story for another time” You smirked, disappearing around the corner.

Fox followed after you, watching you leave from where he leant in the doorway, when you stopped in your place and turned back to him. You seemed to be weighing something in your head, and then evidently decided to go through with it, jogging back over to him.

Fox raised an eyebrow as you came to stand in front of him, “What is it?”

“I forgot something”

“Forgot wha-?”

Fox was interrupted by you raising onto your tiptoes and placing a delicate kiss to his cheek, your hand finding his to steady yourself. The feel of your hand gently holding his, let alone your lips on his cheek, was enough to set his skin alight. His cheeks were already burning by the time you pulled away.

You gave him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand lightly and speaking in a whisper, “See you later”

Fox watched you go with wide eyes, his body unable to move from where it was firmly rooted to the ground. Your body finally disappeared out of the office, and he let out a breath he didn’t realise that he’d been holding, his body relaxing.

“So you did have a date” Stone nudged his brother, a grin almost splitting his face. Fox just gave him a withering look.

“What did I say about privacy?”

“Well I figured that since you made it everyone business-”

“I suggest you get back to work, Stone”

“Yep. Got it”

Fox settled himself back at his desk, his fingers trailing along the spine of the book that was now in his possession. His cheeks were still burning, and they probably would be for the rest of the day. He was looking forward to going to the library that night, but it wasn’t for the books this time.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565

[sequinsmile-x]

A Lot of Lonely Places

She used to be good at being alone. 

-x-

Hi friends,

Truly could not tell you where this came from. Opened my laptop, opened google docs and started writing and here we are.

I hope you enjoy it, and as always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She used to be good at being alone. 

She used to pride herself on it. Full of false bravado about how she excelled in her own company that was borne out of necessity, a side effect of her mother’s job that had left her with no other choice. She was good at being alone and she enjoyed it. She’d painted a lonely picture as a kid, something that had followed her into her teenage years and early adulthood. It was only in college, when she spent four years in one place - the longest she ever had - that she started to make stronger connections. Threads of convenience and coincidence that tied her and her friends together during that time, holding them close until drunken promises before graduation that they’d always have each other turned out to be lies. They’d drifted apart, seeing each other only at reunions and organised events, and she knew she wasn’t blameless. She hadn’t been great at keeping in contact, not entirely used to having people to stay in contact with. It was something that slipped away entirely when she’d joined Interpol, her work not something that allowed the connections she had once treasured. 

Even though she’d barely spent time alone when she was eventually with Ian, something he ensured by always having people around her, she’d felt lonely. At first, it had been drowned by the ever-present fear she’d be caught. That he’d see through her practised lies and kill her before she could call for backup. As that faded, as time made it clear he’d fallen for her charm and the skills she’d honed at a young age, the loneliness took over. The strange desire to hear someone call her by her actual name one that never quite went away. 

Returning to her actual life was overwhelming. She was suddenly surrounded by people who knew who she really was. Every single one of them telling her she’d done an excellent job before it was all classified, anything she’d done a secret to anyone who didn’t already know. It made the loneliness bone-deep, so much a part of her she wasn’t sure she’d ever be without it, but it also made it easier to pretend it never happened. To file it away into one of the boxes in her head, the lid of it liable to slip away whenever she heard an Irish accent or smelt expensive whisky and cigar smoke. 

When she joined the BAU, her sense of self pieced back together after her time as Lauren Reynolds, and a fake background typed out on a piece of paper, she wasn’t sure what she’d find. A small part of her hoped she would make friends, something that felt childish and misplaced after everything she’d seen and done, and even that had been dashed by some of the team's initial reaction to her. The mistrust she’d since learnt was a defence mechanism, particularly on Aaron’s part, more painful than she cared to admit even to herself. 

She never expected that she’d find a family, that she’d find people who felt like home. People she would, and eventually did, die for. It made the loneliness in Paris even sharper. Nights that would have once been spent drinking with JJ and Penelope, or watching kid's movies with Aaron and Jack, long and painful as she lived under a name they did not know. She treated the loneliness like a penance, something she deserved for the lies that had led her there, the choices she could never regret but wished hadn’t happened. She got used to it again. The loneliness. The silence that came with it.  She got used to it but every now and again it would weigh heavily on her chest, crushing it inwards until it became unbearable. Gasping sobs would steal the air from her lungs until she’d eventually cry herself to sleep, ready to be tortured by dreams of everything she had lost. 

When she came home, unsteady and unsure of her place in the life she’d built herself, she was overwhelmed again. Everyone’s desire to see her, to spend time with her they thought they’d never get again, almost too much to take. She’d sought out time on her own, would issue white lies that tasted bitter as she told her friends she was tired or had other plans just so she could sit on her couch alone, the television and radio off, the silence a comforting blanket as she tried to learn to be herself again. 

As time went on, she found her footing. Found her new place in her new life, the broken pieces of her old one at her feet no longer a tripping hazard, but the very thing she used as a foundation for what she had now. 

Loneliness became a thing of her past, something she knew she could thank Aaron, and by extension Jack, for. The day after their conversation on the jet, when she kept her side of the deal and admitted she was having a bad day, Aaron showed up at her apartment. He was casually dressed, or as casual as she’d ever seen him at the time in jeans and a polo shirt, and he said he was there to help her unpack. To this day, she had no idea how he knew she hadn’t unpacked, how he knew that her meagre belongings that hadn’t been sold on after she died were still in boxes. She’d let him in, too tired to argue with him, and she’d let him help without argument - something she now knew was a sign of just how much she trusted him even when she wasn’t sure she could trust herself. He’d turned her mood around that day, had arrived to her on the edge of a panic attack and left her laughing, her smile shining with adoration as he dryly told her about something Dave had done whilst she was away. 

He’d come back the following weekend, with Jack and breakfast from their favourite diner in tow, matching smiles on their faces as they told her they were there to cheer her up, and it had been a tradition ever since. Something that followed her and Aaron from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend and now husband and wife. 

She was never alone now and if she ever was, she was terrible at it. On the rare occasion she was in the house alone she’d struggle. She was used to Aaron’s laugh, or the low timbre of his voice that would travel even through closed doors. She was used to Jack’s excited chatter, or the sound of his video games or cartoons he loved. When it was just her, it was too quiet, something she’d try and counteract by turning on the television or simply calling her husband and asking him when he’d be home. She’d feel nothing short of absurd for it, and she knew a past version of herself would mock her for it, but she loved having him near. Loved the reassurance of his presence, and the only thing that stopped her from chastising herself for it was that she knew Aaron was the same. 

The team made fun of them for it. They’d gently tease them for how they would gravitate towards each other, never able to be too far away as if they felt unsteady if they were. In the same breath as they made fun of them their friends would tell them they were happy for them, that they both deserved what they had now.

___

She sighs contentedly as she wakes up, stretching her limbs as she rolls onto her back, a yawn escaping her as she reaches for her husband's side of the bed. She furrows her brows when she finds it empty, the sheets cold to the touch, and she sits up, her eyes flicking to the also empty bassinet on her side of the bed. A quick glance at the alarm clock, and the lack of daylight streaming in through the curtains, let her know it’s 3.35 am, that she’s likely been pulled from sleep by the cold emptiness of her bed as well as the dull ache starting to build in her breasts. 

Even though she knows that they’re safe, that Aaron will have taken their little girl downstairs to give her some more rare and precious sleep, she’s still met with momentary panic. It greets her like an old friend as it wraps its hand around her throat, stealing the breath from her lungs before she can reason with herself, memories of when she was alone and being hunted by the man who had killed her briefly overwhelming. She shakes her head and blows out a slow breath and she shoves the covers off her as she climbs out of bed. 

“Get it together, Emily,” she mumbles to herself, grabbing Aaron’s robe from the back of the bedroom door as she passes it, wrapping it around herself to warn off the slight chill in the air. 

She checks in on Jack on the way past, takes a moment to rearrange his bedding around him and kisses his forehead before she sneaks back out of his room, not wanting to wake him on a night when he’d somehow slept through his baby sister’s cries. She finds Aaron and the baby exactly where she knew she would, snuggled up on the couch together with only the light of a single lamp in the corner of the room illuminating them. She can’t help but smile as she walks into the living room, her chest aching with love at the sight of her little girl fast asleep on Aaron’s chest, her cheek squashed against his t-shirt and a line of drool visible even in the low light. 

“Can I join this party, or is it invite only?” She asks, careful to stay quiet, to not startle him or wake up their daughter. 

Aaron turns to look at her, his smile soft and sleepy, and he removes one hand from Violet’s back to tap the couch next to him, “You’re always invited,” he replies, just as quietly as he presses a kiss to the dark hair on the newborn’s head, “Right, Vi? Mommy can always join us.” 

Emily crosses the room and sits next to him, immediately snuggling into his side, sneaking under the blanket he had draped over his lap. She rests her head on his shoulder and reaches out to run her knuckles up and down Violet’s soft cheek. “Is she okay? You could have woken me up.” 

“She’s fine,” he says, turning his head to kiss her temple, smiling when she tilts her head to capture it, his lips slightly chapped against hers, “She was fussing, but I think she just wanted to cuddle,” he smiles as he pulls back, “Now I may lack the facilities to feed her, but I’ve got it on good authority I give amazing hugs,” his smile gets wider as she lovingly rolls her eyes, “So I thought I’d let you rest until she did need feeding.” 

Emily hums gratefully, kissing the corner of his mouth before she rests her temple against his cheek, unable to tear her gaze away from the sleeping baby, “Daddy really does give the best hugs, sweet girl,” she says, her words disappearing into a laugh as more drool lands on Aaron’s t-shirt, “Although, I used to be the only girl allowed to drool on him,” she strokes her daughter’s head, following the swirl of dark hair. It was the very first part of her that Emily had touched, encouraged to reach between her legs by her doctor and feel the top of her little girl’s head when labour was starting to feel like it was too much, “I guess I can share him with you though.” 

Aaron chuckles and wraps his arm around her, tugging her closer as he securely holds Violet close with one arm, “Did we wake you?”

Emily shakes her head, “No, I think it was because the bed was empty,” she mumbles, reaching for his hand and unhooking herself from under his arm so she can hug it to her chest, his hand sandwiched between both of hers as she tucks them under her chin, “I’m not good at sleeping alone anymore. You ruined me.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her and smiles, “I’m…sorry,” he says, his tone teasing and she squeezes his hand tighter. 

“As you should be,” she replies dryly, feeling sleepiness take over, the warmth of him and the sound of Violet’s breathing slowly pulling her under, “There’s only one way to make up for it.”

He kisses the top of her head and then hides his smile in her hairline, “Oh yeah, what’s that then?” 

“Sleeping next to me forever.” 

He chuckles “You drive a hard bargain, but I’m sure I can manage that,” he says, and she leans into him, his voice something that calmed her, something that pulled her in, “You should get some sleep, sweetheart.” 

She grumbles, trying to fight him on it even though it was a losing battle, “But you’ll be trapped here with both of us sleeping on you.” 

“There are much worse places to be trapped, Em,” he assures her, his words murmured against her forehead, “And Vi will wake us up soon anyway,” he kisses her forehead, “Get some sleep, and I’ll be here for you both.” 

She hums, no longer able to fight it, exhaustion and the comfort of him washing over her, “Love you.” 

The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is his reply, his I love you too whispered against her skin, and she knows that not only would she never be good at being alone again, but that she’d never have to be. 

[angstmongertina]

I just spent WAY TOO LONG trying to figure out what Duchy I was going to give Marr before going "Fuck it he's just Duke Marr." DUCHY OF MARR. I DON"T CARE ANYMORE.

[munchy-k]

hua ross, bob cheng, hua bob, ross cheng

[suntails]

tfw octavinelle students get to wear a suit but ur dorm uniform needs an instruction manual

[prettyupsetnerd]

hurt/comfort, touch-starved, friends to lovers, rated T for Teeny

[dragon-of-timeless-blue]

I couldn't resist and I did this...

the beautiful rinharu nightpool scene...and Makoto

[yunmeng-jiang]

that man does NOT think of wei wuxian as his gege

[jtownraindancer]

[sand-scourge]

Song For You

A selfship comic featuring Wrapbot owned by @macattackz (thank you for letting me make this with your character! I appreciate it!)

[eraserheadadult]

one of my ongoing flight rising projects is to put as many animal apparels on this one woman as i possibly can. i only have abt half of the items now but this is the end goal