#and I am so bad at figuring out super complicated fighting so I’m always like ‘plz be gentle’

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

What frustrates me the most about liking the fallout games and elder scrolls games (I still need to play more of them and there are CERTAINLY exceptions) is that i don’t actually know what it is exactly that i like about them. People will be like “Bethesda games suck” and I’m not going to disagree that having mammoths fall from the sky and my gun sink into the floor forever is good game mechanics, that it’s a work of art in the coding department, but i don’t know what it is that makes me love the experience of playing them. People will be like “oh, you like that thing? Try this” and what they suggest isn’t bad, but it doesn’t have the same, idk, combination of things? I just wish I knew what the exact combo was so I could look for more of those things. I can’t put my finger on it and I’m not sure I can find the same combination of those things anywhere else. I don’t really care that the fighting isn’t super dramatic every time, hitting things and blowing things up is fun by itself to me, i don’t need a work of art there. I like the characters and the way you can just go do shit, especially when you don’t have a super pressing timeline. I can build a house before stopping the end of the world in Skyrim (multiple times) and it doesn’t actually make the time more stressful. If I want to take it super seriously I can try and grind through the main plot and after that I’ll still have a bunch of stuff to do! And the things I do will affect other things, but in a certain way I can’t explain? I can’t put into words. I know that they aren’t the finest masterpieces and I’m sure that there are games with things i like about these games but done better, but do they have the combination? The one I can’t put my finger on? Probably not. I play games to have fun and there is so much fucking around I can do! There are little details in the environment, little things to npcs. There are certainly things that left me unsatisfied, but there is also a bunch of things that do? I’ll admit to not playing their newer stuff though. I’ll consider eso but my brothers have already tried some of their other new stuff and left me with some not great reviews. I kinda wish people would stop trying to recommend me games because “oh, you like that part of that game? Here is one that is so much better. You’ll see how terrible the one you’re playing is” because I’m playing the terrible one for a reason. I like it, even knowing it’s not the best, and i would love to see more games that do that thing, but if you are recommending them because they are “better works of art” or “better mechanically” are you also recommending them because they are fun? That’s why I play games. I have my limits, and I respect other people who play games for the sake of the art form alone, but sometimes terrible or just okay is fun too, sometimes with less stress, and fun can keep me occupied for hours. I’m not saying I never play a game for a story, without much of one I often do get bored. I wouldn’t play the ace attorney series if I didn’t like stories too, but i loooove sandboxes and i can’t put my finger on why i like those Bethesda sandboxes so much. It’s infuriating because I really do want to find more stuff that scratches that specific itch, but the vibes are never quite there. I don’t expect the exact same thing, but I do want to try more of that sort of thing, yet I can’t put my finger on what it is about the thing that I need to look for! Very frustrating.

I like lore and environmental storytelling and interesting npcs and sandbox games, i don’t enjoy super complicated combat because i am stupid. I like being able to pick and choose things and seeing one thing affect another but not needing to do things in a specific order. Is that all? I don’t feel like it. There is something more and I can’t put my finger on it. There are obviously games I play that do not check off every single box of mine, look at the ace attorney series! But those ones don’t really take as much of my time. Once you finish the story you just kinda, leave it for awhile. You’re done. You might go back later, but probably not right away. With the games like Skyrim and fallout I can just come back after a busy day and do random low stress tasks and activities, or I could go hard at it for a bit, either way I have fun. I don’t know how to replicate that. I also like when they add some elements like the sims. I know some people hate it, but it gives me even more shit to do, and I can have a part of the map that feels like “this is MINE!” and I can leave my stuff (and some npcs) there and feel like I’m not just shoving it wherever. Sure, you get beds when you join certain groups, but in Skyrim and fallout 4 you can have your own space. If i don’t want to go on some adventure after a long day I can just garden or something, even when it’s winter irl! (Although the gardening isn’t like irl gardening, it still feels better than nothing). I know a lot of people hate how they put certain things I listed into a game that is “supposed to be about the story, or fighting” but i like the eclectic combination of activities, and i feel like they manage to do it without the things feeling like a completely separate game. It still feels tied in, unlike some games where it feels like they just shoved it into the game on the side without any connection I guess. I’m not explaining this well and I’m sure there are people who absolutely hate the things I listed, but there are plenty of games without them, I’m trying to find more with them.

And it has to have interesting npcs, even just mildly interesting ones that you can fill in the blanks for in your boredom. I can’t stand the feeling of being in a completely empty world (with the possible exception of Pokémon go, but they have added so much stuff that it feels parallel to the real world, not completely separate and empty) although, when it comes to Pokémon go, I actually did stop playing for awhile because it felt so empty, now you can at least interact with other players a bit more (even if I’m not great at finding others to play with) and they have added more npcs. I play that game so i don’t get bored at the grocery store and can convince myself to go out and walk around sometimes, so it’s not the same. Idk what I actually really want from a game, I can’t put my finger on it.

[whirlwindimagines]

Hello! You're seriously one of the best writers for Trigun I've read! I'm super excited for future works!!! Would you be willing to write some angst? How about something like Knives continously pushing the reader away until the reader does truly disappear. You can decide how they disappear! But something introspective with Knives would be nice!

Anything for my number one fan 💙❄️💙❄️💙 CLOWN 🤡 I can’t believe you want to be down bad for Knives!!!!! Ignoring the fact I am too 🤡 I also can’t believe you read all my works get outta here 😭😭😭 song title is from Labour 😘 Also enjoy, I wasn’t sure where to go with this so open-ended it is! 

‘If our love died, would that be the worst thing?’

Millions Knives x Reader

You need to be the bigger person and let it go, you think to yourself as you know you're not going to let it go. Fighting with Knives wasn’t anything new, honestly, it’s been increasing lately. It’s more oh how the arguments went, he was dismissive at best and a childish asshole at worst and you were sick of it.

Not being able to sleep was also making these worse, you don’t even remember the last time you for a full night's rest. Knives coming in at any and all odd hours to wake up to work to continue with his plans. You knew it was important to him, it should be important to you too, but not at 3 am. You wish you go back to the early days when you were blinded by your love and commitment to knives.

You might have been a naive fool back then, but you were happy at least. And now you were starting to have doubts the closer and closer Knives got to his goals you were wavering and you don’t know what to do if Knives figured you out.

Being afraid of Knives was new to, fuck you didn’t know what to do. You were torn, because as fucked up as it all was you still loved him. How pathetic, your door opens with a slam and it startles you more than it should. Sitting up your eyes meet Knives pale blue ones, his eyes always seemed to glow in the dark.

“Come here.” His tone doesn’t leave room for arguments, but you feel like pushing it, him this thing you have. “I need to sleep, just because you don’t doesn’t mean I’ll magically be capable without it” you lay back down with a huff, heart racing as his footsteps approaches the side of the bed. 

He reaches for you grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you up, and it brings you to tears at how gentle his grip is even though his eyes are furious. “I wasn’t asking, I am not impressed by your latest tantrums.” 

You scoff you try to pull your arm back, but he tightens his grip, it’s not painful but you don’t know what will happen if you keep pushing. You know Knives was prone to violence, but he has never struck you. He probably wanted to, but Knives was complicated some days he couldn’t stand touching you the human you. And then some days he couldn’t leave you alone demanding your attention.

“My tantrums?” You hiss, you step into his face getting chest to chest with him, “if anyone been throwing a tantrum lately it’s you, I don’t want to fight with you Knives I’m tired. Why don’t you stay?” The more you talk the more the fight drains out of you. 

He drops your wrist, “if you won’t be of use then I have no reason for you.” He says it coldly and it hurts more than it should, “fine.” You reply, stepping back and sitting on the bed. “Goodnight, Knives.” He doesn’t reply as he turns and leaves, leaving you to yourself. 

Getting back under the covers, you force yourself not to cry. You’d deal with this in the morning, forcing yourself to sleep.

Morning comes quickly, you lay there for a while pondering what you should do next. You have no desire in talking to Knives, so you figure you’ll just work the day away. Knives will find you when he wants you, frowning at the thought. What were you a loyal dog waiting for their master's return?  

With that thought you force yourself from the bed and out of the room, leaving your mind perfectly blank as you continue throughout the day. Every once in a while, the memory of last night will play in your mind but you push it aside. You don’t see knives today, or the next, or even the next. 

He must be ignoring you, hating to admit you missed him. Fine if he didn’t want to talk to you, then you would seek him out instead. Marching through the halls with a purpose, you know exactly where he’ll be, already hearing the keys of a piano. He is still playing when you enter the large room, moving forward to stand beside him. 

Waiting for him to finish you speak, “I’ve always loved listening to you play, it’s been a while huh?” He doesn’t reply, and you frown reaching out a hand towards him you call out his name, and he turns quickly gripping your wrist.

“Why are you here.” So that’s how he wants to be, you sigh, “I just wanted to check up on you, we haven’t spoken– “ 

His grip tightens, and your breath hitches as he does his grip near painful, he stands narrowing his eyes at you, “whatever pathetic human emotions you are trying to convey don’t. You have become nothing but an obstacle to my endeavors.” 

You can only stare wide eyes, there is something different this time about the way he speaks to you, and your blood runs hot with anger. So, after everything, this is what Knives has come to? “Seriously? An obstacle? Is that all I am to you? After everything! All I’ve done for you it just means nothing.” 

Knives shoves you back harshly, and you stumble falling back and catching yourself on your elbows, he looks down at you as he speaks, “You are nothing to me, a means to an end.” You hate that the tears come, you hate that he’s breaking your heart and he doesn’t even care. Quickly getting to your feet the argument catches in your throat.

Fine 

You were done, this was the breaking point you needed out if that meant by his hand or yours. They would never let you escape, no not with you knew you needed to be clever, the weak and pathetic human Knives thought you were. Those who deserted the cause were met with death, you knew that yet you were not afraid.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, I won’t bother you again.” You can’t meet his gaze; Knives doesn’t say anything just scoffs turning his back to you. As if on autopilot you reach out a hand to him, but bring it back grasping your shirt over your heart instead. 

You leave and do not look back. 

Time is not something that Knives bothers keeping track of, day and night does not matter to him. And yet he knows the passing of time has been slow without you by his side. You’ll come crawling back, it was in your human nature to not leave well enough alone.

Knives presses the keys of the piano, not playing a tune but little melodies. His mind keeps drifting to you, he knew you liked to watch him play, in a moment of weakness he had asked if you wanted to to learn how to play.

And he hates the way your eyes lit up at his words, he hated more how you made him feel in that moment, but what he hated the most is the feeling of missing you. You who was just a human, nothing but a spark in his life that would sizzle out to nothing, and he would continue on as if nothing happened. 

Slamming his hands on the piano keys he stands; he turns heading towards your room. He doesn’t need you, he doesn’t. Knives just wants to… well he doesn’t know what he wants and that frustrates him to no end. 

Opening the door with our knocking, his pale eyes dart around the room you’re not here. Walking toward the bed he placed a hand on the sheets, they are cold you haven’t been here for a while. How strange considering your constant complaints about needing sleep. 

He leaves to continue his search but isn’t able to find a trace of you. He’s not concerned, he isn’t. But he’s searched the whole damn place and nothing like you’ve ever even existed. And for some reason that scares him, more than he wants to admit. 

Then he hears the rumors, you fled in the night and didn’t look back. How you probably didn’t get far, no deserter does. The first emotion was anger, at you for leaving, for betraying him. It was the emotion he held on to the longest, then he needed to act. You haven’t been found yet, and when you were he didn’t want you killed. No, he needed you back here so he could deal with you himself.

That’s what he kept telling himself at least, the more nothing came of the search the more desperate he felt for you, now you really have turned into a distraction. He can’t afford to spend his time looking for you, he knows he has more important things to be doing. 

Knives forces himself to focus on his goals, pushing you to the back of his mind and this works for a while. But when he’s alone, or can’t seem to concentrate his mind always drifts to you and he hates you for it because after everything deep down he knows he feels something for you. 

This is bad and he knows it, he has to let it go so he will for now.

a/n: @hermitagecats Love you! <3

[erinhime83]

Its that time again for some Division designs!  I sort of go derailed from doing these thanks to the WfS rewrites, but I am determined not to wait another year to do the Cataclysm sequel, so here we are.  Three months out and me freaking out about the last couple of design pictures I need to do, lol.  These are simple and easy to do once I start on them, and they look neat, but it’s just the getting started that gets me, lol.

So these two are the first minor characters that I’ve done.  They sort of straddle the line – they’re not important enough for me to consider being major characters, but they’re not shoved to the back burner, so to speak.  But the fact that they are minor characters is probably why I was dragging my feet, since I had to figure out their style and all.

So first we have Felix, whose the second in command of the Lolita team, so he’s featured quite a bit.  When I first created him, he was supposed to be someone who simply did not like Nova for whatever reason.  He was supposed to be pretentious and an ass, thinking her newbie status was going to get in the way.  He’s still a bit pretentious, but as soon as I started writing him, all aspects of him being an ass disappeared and he somehow gained respect for Nova and I started to like him.  I mean, considering he’s on a lower tier team by choice would sort of suggest that he’s not completely full of himself.

He’s supposed to serve as the more grounded team leader, the one who understands their situation rather than be mad about their status.  They should be a top tier team, none of them truly want that, because they have seem how pretentious and annoying those teams can be.  Felix was drafted to the same team Astrid was on when they first started, and he’s like the only person who doesn’t view her powers as creepy and villain material, which is why he agreed to join her when she started her team.

I do see Felix as being a bit fashionable – he and Astrid have similar tastes – so I sort of slapped something hipster-y on him and I sort of like it?  It suits him, in any case.  The rest of him’s so dark that the green just pops, lol. 

As for his Storm King uniform, I didn’t design it, sadly, but it looks so much cooler than anything I would have come up with.  Granted, being as self-important that he is, you’d think he’d have a more complicated and expensive uniform, but I guess he just figures to stay on the level’s he’s at, and hey, what works, works.  He looks cool, and that’s all that matters.

The next one is Ethan, who is a fun character to think of scenarios with.  Too bad I couldn’t put them all in the first book, lol.  I’m not sure where the idea came from originally, but I loved the idea of the rest of his team claiming that his superpower was ‘laziness’ because he didn’t want to do anything, and also that he was forced to join by his parents.  And the idea that Blake is basically his keeper, frustratingly trying to get him to do anything.

But the thing is his power is super cool and useful and unusual.  Blake feels he has potential, which is why he keeps pushing him, and Ethan isn’t completely disinterested in the idea of being a hero, or else he wouldn’t listen.  It’s mostly that Ethan is a bit of a loner who would rather be doing anything else, but he’s slowly warming up to the team and the idea of being a hero.

And then the fight at the gala happened, and he had his first real taste of being a hero, and, well, Cosmic Star herself complimented his powers, so now he’s making more of an effort.  (Blake is a little worried that Ethan might be scooped up by a better team now that he’s Making An Effort, but he doesn’t need to worry, since Ethan wouldn’t want to acclimate to a new team.)

His style seemed easy enough – I ended up aging him down from what I originally had him at so he was younger than Nova, and sticking him in skater teen fashion just made sense.  It works well with him and his personality! 

AND THEN there’s his redesigned uniform.  I had always planned on Ethan getting a little more serious after Cosmic Star complimented him, and I realized last year that it should mean he has a new uniform, so I had to go and actually think about what he’s wear.  I’d imagine his parents were still the ones who designed it for him, lol.  It’s simple, but he looks really cool now.  Definitely more like a hero than some dude who threw something together.  I really like it.

So yeah, the first of the minor characters.  So more should be coming soonish, just so I can get all this done and over with.

[ganymedesclock]

These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user. 

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist. 

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

-

Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of PD: Season 5: PTSD (A Halstead brothers + Halstead! sister imagine)

As always, I don't own any quotes from 5x01 of Chicago PD!

Your age: 16

Jay's age: 30

Will's age: 32

"I just talked to Ballistics. The bullet that hit the little girl was a nine-millimeter."

"I thought the bangers were firing 45s."

"They were."

"You're saying I shot that little girl?"

That. That was the conversation that was replaying in Jay's head as he sat on the couch of his apartment that afternoon. How could he call himself a cop, a good cop, if it was him who shot that girl? He should've known that there an illegal daycare center there, even though no one could've known, he still should've figured it out somehow. But, he was taking heavy fire and he did what he needed to do. But, that didn't make him feel any better. A little girl was in critical condition and fighting for her life at Chicago Med because of him. It was all his fault.

***

Your mind wandered back to the day earlier in the year when it was your sixteenth birthday...and you had gotten the iPhone that was currently blowing up with Twitter notifications all about Jay.

You had gone for breakfast with your dad because he had completed the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and was doing a lot better. He also had visitation rights after he completed the 12 Steps, so he had the right to see you. Since you were 16, you could refuse, but you didn't want your dad to feel bad. And, from what you had heard from Will who had been going to see how he was doing to see if it was safe for you to see him, he was doing really well.

During breakfast, he had given you a gift. You opened it and immediately recognized the bracelet.

"Is this Mom's?" you asked. "I thought you said you couldn't find it when I asked for it when I was like ten."

"I've kept it all these years, I was just waiting for the right time to make sure you'd be able to take care of it and not lose it."

You remembered playing with the charm bracelet when you were little when it dangled off your mom's wrist. There were a bunch of different charms from places she had gone, such as Mount Rushmore, Washington DC, a record charm that she had bought in Hollywood, and for other special occasions, such as a steering wheel charm she got from her parents when she got her driver's license, a graduation cap she got for graduation which she also got from her parents, a wedding dress charm which symbolized the day she married your dad, among other charms.

"Thank you," you replied as you held back tears.

He'd changed, he'd recovered, but there's still no way you'd go back to live with him.

***

"How was breakfast with Dad?" Jay asked as you walked into the apartment after you had breakfast.

"Good. He's doing really good, Jay." You walked up to him and opened the small gift box you were holding. "He gave me this." You held the box out to him and he smiled.

"Mom's charm bracelet?" You nodded. "Want me to put it on you?"

"Please."

Jay's breath hitched as he took the bracelet out of the box. It was like he was holding a little piece of his mom, and this piece of your mom would forever be with you the moment he fastened the clasp.

"It's perfect," you said as you fiddled with a few charms.

You both sat in silence for a few moments, just thinking about the fact that this was your mom's and it was now yours.

"Ready to go get your license?" Jay asked, breaking the silence.

"Is that even a question? Yes!"

You had taken your driver's test a week ago after completing the long process of going through two segments of driver's training classes, taking a written test, securing your learner's permit, and accumulating 50 or more hours of driving practice with either Jay or Will.

Jay chuckled at your excitement. "You good with how you look? You'll have the same license photo until you're 21, you know?"

"Let me go put on some lipstick!"

"Not that super dark reddish-purple one!"

"Yes, that super dark reddish-purple one! It's my favorite and it looks good on me!" you yelled as you ran to your room.

Once you had applied your lipstick, you and Jay made your way to the Secretary of State with all the necessary documents for you to get your license.

***

"Why's my license vertical and not horizontal like yours?" you asked after you exited the building with your brand new license.

"You get a horizontal one when you're 21. Just makes it easier for us cops to identify if you're underage if we ask for your license. And for bartenders to know you're underage if you try to buy alcohol."

"Oh, okay."

"You wanna drive?" Jay asked you.

"Sure. It's no different than me having my permit, though because you'll be in the car," you pointed out.

"So, you don't want to drive."

"No, I do!"

"That's what I thought."

He handed you the keys and you unlocked his truck. You both got in and you started adjusting the seat and the rearview mirror.

"Don't forget to--"

"Adjust the side mirrors. I know, Jay, I know. We've been through this a ton. Trust me."

"You're essentially driving a missile down the road, excuse me if I get nervous."

You rolled your eyes and started to drive, but when you were supposed to turn right, he told you to go left.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"The district," he answered.

"Why?"

"You'll see. Just drive. I'll give you directions because we both know you're bad with those."

"Shut up!"

"What? We both know it's true!"

"No comment."

When you got there, Jay told you to park in front of what he called the "roll-up". To say you were confused would be an understatement; you didn't even know what this was!

"It's where we load our weapons and drive out sometimes. It's the basement," Jay explained.

"Where the cage is?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Adam told me about it. And then when you and  Erin were on  a lunch run for everyone, he showed it to me."

"I'm gonna have to talk to him about that."

Once you finished parking, you turned off the car and handed the keys back to Jay. Then, Jay did this weird, complicated knock on the garage door of the roll-up.

"Surprise!"

You were met with Will standing there. Behind him, was a car, with a bow on top.

"Is this mine?" you asked.

"Yup," Will confirmed. "Dude," he said to Jay, "You're lucky Goodwin let me out early."

"2010 Buick," Jay said as you walked over to examine the car more. "Seized it from a mob boss two weeks ago. It was going to be impounded, but Kev's got a really good car guy, so I didn't have to pay a lot for it."

"Wait," you started, "So this is just from you, Jay?"

"My gift is in your driver's seat," Will said and then he tossed you the keys. Somehow you caught them...you weren't the best when it came to hand-eye coordination.

You unlocked it using the fob and opened the driver's side door. There, on the driver's seat, was a box. And, not just any box: an Apple box.

"Is this...?"

"Open it." Will smiled.

So you did and you squealed so loud that Jay covered his ears. "Damn, high-pitched screams...sometimes worse than the sound of gunshots."

"Sorry! I'm just so excited! I can't believe I got a car and iPhone! You guys are the best! I love you guys so much!"

"We figured it'd save me a ton of time in the morning not to have to drive you to school and, if I get called into a case early or stay at work late, then I wouldn't have to find someone to drop you off or pick you up. And, figured I could always track your phone if necessary," Jay answered.

"I knew there was a catch," you answered.

"Always is," Will joked.

"Are there traps still in the car?" you asked, causing Jay's eyes to go wide.

"How do you know about those?"

"I watch crime shows."

"No," he answered. "Made sure that was one of the very first things Kev's car guy did: remove the traps."

"Aw, man! I was gonna have fun with those!"

"And put what in them?" Will asked. "Candy? Those fancy pens you like?"

"One, there's two different kinds I like: Papermate pens and calligraphy pens. And two, a little bit of this, a little bit of that."

"Care to specific on what those might be?" Jay asked.

"Not really."

"May I remind you that I am a cop and can toss your bedroom like--" He snapped his fingers. "--that."

"Don't you need a warrant for that?"

"It's my house, so I can do what I want. And, I hope I don't need to bring charges against you for whatever you're hiding."

You burst out laughing. "You guys, I'm kidding. I just wanted to see Jay's reaction when I mentioned traps! I wouldn't do anything...especially with Jay as my brother. I'm not that stupid."

"Oh thank God," Jay sighed.

"Can we go? A little birdie let it slip that there's a surprise party for me at the apartment."

Will glared at Jay. "What?" Jay asked as he put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I promise you I did not say a single word about it."

"Mhm." Will rolled his eyes.

"Y/N, would this little birdie be Ruzek?" Jay asked.

"No comment."

"I am never telling him anything remotely secretive again."

But now, you kinda wished you didn't have that phone. Because, all over Twitter, there were people who didn't even know your brother who was saying that he was a racist cop and a child killer.

***

You walked inside to see a very distraught Jay. he was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. And, even though you could only see one side of his face from where you were standing, you could see the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

"So, it's true?" you asked. Jay jumped and looked at you. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"H-How do you know what happened?"

You sat down next to him. "Twitter. My mentions were blowing up."

"Y/N, you gotta believe me. I wouldn't intentionally shoot a little girl--"

"Jay, I believe you."

"At least she's at Med. Will said she's got a good chance of making it."

"Oh, you didn't hear." He furrowed his eyebrows. "She passed away. I got a notification about it like an hour ago. I'm so sorry, Jay."

"Fuck," was all he said as he buried his head in his hands and began sobbing.

You wanted to comfort him, you really did, but you had no idea what to say. You knew Jay was a good cop and, whatever happened, you knew that he wouldn't purposely kill an innocent little girl. So, you just put a hand on his shoulder as he continued to sob, reminding him that you were still there.

"I'm gonna go talk to Will," he said as he stood up a few minutes later.

He walked over to the kitchen sink and splashed his face with water and dried it with some paper towels while you walked over to him.

"I'll drive you," you told him. "You're not in any shape to be driving right now. I know you'd tell me the same thing."

"No, Y/N, I can drive myself."

"This isn't up for discussion, Jay."

"Yes, it is. My picture's all over the internet. If someone decides to come after me, I don't want you near me out in public. I need you to be safe. Just stay here. Please." His voice cracked on the last word.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

"But please try your best to get home in one piece."

Jay nodded and grabbed his jacket. "I'll be back soon."

But, what he was thinking was totally different. After what I did, I don't deserve to come home in one piece.

***

Jay stormed into the ED just as Will was leaving a treatment room and Will caught sight of Jay and walked towards him.

"You said she was gonna make it!" Jay practically yelled.

"Hey," Will said, quieter, trying to use his trying-to-calm-down-a-patient-voice to hopefully make Jay calm down.

"You said she was gonna..." Jay took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"Hey, I said she had a chance, okay? She was in bad shape. Lost too much blood."

"I know."

"There's only so much we can do."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just...the bullet came from my gun. Even though I was aiming at an offender, it went through his abdomen and through a fucking door and into her, Will. Even though it was an accident, I still shot her. I killed an eight-year-old little girl. I killed her."

***

"50-21 George!" Jay yelled into his radio. "I'm taking heavy fire! I got two civilians down in the north alley behind the building."

"This is Sergeant Hank Voight. Advise responding units to shut down a two-block radius."

"Help! Help!"

Jay turned his attention to the building and when he saw it was clear, he pushed open the wooden door and entered.

He nearly choked when he saw what happened.

It was you. You were eight years old, clutching Beary in one hand while Hailey held you and tried to stop the bleeding.

"Y/N!" He had no idea why you were even here, maybe your parents couldn't afford a good, legal daycare center because of your mom's medical bills, but whatever it was, you were here, and you had somehow been shot. He kneeled down next to you and all but threw his sniper on the ground.

"Alright, I'm gonna call an ambulance," Hailey said.

"We don't have time." Somehow, he was aware of where his keys were in his tactical gear. "Go get my car. Fast."

He handed over the keys. "Ready?" Hailey asked as Jay positioned his hands above hers to try and stop the bleeding the minute she removed her hands.

Jay nodded and quickly replaced Hailey's hands with his as she sprinted off to get his truck.

But, then the scene changed.

It became hotter. Jay could feel the dry heat in his mouth and in his throat. He felt the sweat trickle down his face and back. He felt beads of sand on his hands and arms. He looked down to see you resting your head against his leg. And, he wasn't in his normal clothes that he'd wear to work. No, he was in his Rangers uniform.

He had his hands over the same spot on your chest as he had in the daycare center. And, you still had Beary in your hand, albeit a very loose grip on him.

You coughed, causing some blood to come out of your mouth.

"No, Y/N, not like this. Not like this." He removed one hand from the wound and applied all the pressure he could with one hand while he reached for his radio. "This is Halstead to Base." Crackles. "This is Halstead to Base." More crackles. "Please. This is Halstead to Base. I need a med truck now! My sister's been shot." No response. "Please. She's only-- She's only eight years old." His voice cracked. "Please."

You coughed once more and Jay knew trying to reach Base was useless at this point. Jay took his canteen and dabbed a little bit of water on your face and smeared it around, trying to clean the blood off your face. But, as fast as he could clean it, more would come up and out of your mouth.

You let out a strangled breath. Jay knew that sound. That was the sound of someone's last gasp of air that they'd ever take.

"Y/N, please. Please, Short Stack. Stay with me. Help will come. Please, just hang on a little longer."

Then, he saw the all too familiar look of empty eyes in front of him. He let out a strangled sob as he placed his fingers on your eyelids and gently pulled them closed.

Jay shot up in bed with a start. He reached for his chest, feeling for his radio to try and call for help again. It was only when his fingers brushed his bare chest that he realized that he wasn't in the desert of Afghanistan, but in the safety of his own bed, in his own apartment, here stateside, here in Chicago.

He went into the bathroom after his breathing calmed down and jumped into a freezing cold shower, hoping to get the image of an eight-year-old you being shot and killed by his gun out of his head.

But it wouldn't leave.

Jay dried off and then quietly made his way out of his room and over to yours.

He crouched down by your bed and watched as your chest rose and fell, signaling that you were in a deep sleep. You were sleeping on your side and had one leg thrown over the other and a few toes sticking out from under the covers. Beary was next to you. You weren't clutching him like in his nightmare, hell you weren't even holding him, but he was still in your bed. Jay was pretty sure that if that bear wasn't in your bed at night, you wouldn't be able to sleep, despite you being sixteen.

Jay longed to put two fingers to your neck just to check your pulse and make sure he wasn't hallucinating the rising and falling of your chest. But, he knew that was paranoid. He could trust his instincts now. After all, he was awake. There was no stifling heat, no hot sweat (at least, after his shower there wasn't), and no sand. All that was below him was the fluffy rug on your bedroom floor.

He slowly left your room and went back to his. But, instead of getting into bed, he tugged his comforter off his bed and grabbed his pillow. Then, he dragged those two things back into your room and settled down on your rug.

He knew it was probably paranoia, but after that dream, he wanted to make sure you were safe. He wanted to be close to you. Because, God, that dream felt so real.

She's alive, he kept reminding himself as he tried to fall asleep. And, that was the last thing on his mind when he finally fell asleep once more: that you were still alive.

***

Your alarm blared through your quiet room and you rolled over with a groan and turned it off.

"Christ, that was loud. How deep of a sleeper are you?" Jay asked as he rolled over.

You looked at him with sleep still in your eyes. "What are you doing in here?"

"Was a rough night." He yawned. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Okay...?"

"I say ten more minutes."

"Jay, I'll be late."

"I'll drive you, lights and sirens and all."

"Night."

***

"You okay?" you asked around 11:00 pm two weeks later when Jay finally got home from working a case.

"Yeah, just tired," he answered as he went to put his badge and gun away in his room.

"Are you sure it's just that?" you asked when he came out from his room in pajamas.

"I'm sure. Why are you asking?"

"You had that street fair bombing case and two weeks ago, a bullet from your gun--"

"Y/N, I'm fine. I promise. don't you have to get to bed?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday. I don't have school tomorrow."

"So it is. I'm gonna turn in. See you in the morning."

"Aren't you gonna eat something?" you asked.

"I'm not really that hungry. Goodnight."

You knew something was off, but you weren't going to push it, so you just grabbed the remote and started looking for a movie to watch.

***

You coughed, causing some blood to come out of your mouth.

"No, Y/N, not like this. Not like this." He removed one hand from the wound and applied all the pressure he could with one hand while he reached for his radio. "This is Halstead to Base." Crackles. "This is Halstead to Base." More crackles. "Please. This is Halstead to Base. I need a med truck now! My sister's been shot." No response. "Please. She's only-- She's only eight years old." His voice cracked. "Please."

You coughed once more and Jay knew trying to reach Base was useless at this point. Jay took his canteen and dabbed a little bit of water on your face and smeared it around, trying to clean the blood off your face. But, as fast as he could clean it, more would come up and out of your mouth.

You let out a strangled breath. Jay knew that sound. That was the sound of someone's last gasp of air that they'd ever take.

"Y/N, please. Please, Short Stack. Stay with me. Help will come. Please, just hang on a little longer."

Then, he saw the all too familiar look of empty eyes in front of him. He let out a strangled sob as he placed his fingers on your eyelids and gently pulled them closed.

He saw a figure moving towards him and in his hand, a grenade.

"Would you like to join her?"

Jay jolted awake, breathing raggedly. He tried to catch his breath and swallow, but it was no use, the familiar feeling of bile was rising in his throat and he dry heaved all the way to the bathroom before he finally emptied what little was in his stomach into the toilet.

Meanwhile, you furrowed your eyebrows as you slowly opened your eyes. You thought you had heard gagging, but it was gone now, so you tried to close your eyes and go back to sleep. But, then you heard gagging and the sound of something hitting what sounded like water.

Wait, was Jay sick? He never got sick.

You got out of bed and walked over to his room and quietly opened his door. From the dim light of the bathroom, and the disheveled covers on his bed, you knew he was in the bathroom.

"Jay?" you asked as you crept towards his bathroom.

"Y/N, l-leave. Please, just leave me alone ri-right now." You could tell from the sound of his voice that he was panting as if he had just run a marathon.

"Are you okay?"

No. "I'm fine. Just a stomach bug or food poisoning. Go back to bed."

You poked your head into the bathroom. Jay was leaning against the bathtub without a shirt on, with sweat dripping down his face. His mouth was wide open as if he was trying to capture as much oxygen as was humanly possible.

"Maybe I should call Will. I don't think he's on shift."

"Y/N, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You don't look fine at all."

"Y/N, go back to bed. Now."

"But--"

"I said go to bed! So how about you listen for once and just fucking do that? Jesus!"

Your breath caught in your throat. You'd never heard him yell like that...not directed at you at least.

"O-Okay."

You trudged back to your room and laid down. But, sleep didn't come for a while as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Jay put his head in his hands. He had yelled at you. Not only that, but he had sworn at you and you were just trying to help. God, he felt like a terrible brother, a terrible guardian, an overall terrible human being.

He tugged at the roots of his hair, hoping the bit of tugging from that physical pain would calm the mental and emotional pain that had been stirring inside of him for weeks. For weeks he's been like this. Ever since he had been put on his medication, he hadn't even had a nightmare and now he's had them every single day, and he's scared to sleep. What kind of police detective and ex-army ranger is afraid to sleep when they're safe in their own house? He was one of them and, God, he hated himself for it.

Not getting more than three restless hours of sleep per night was starting to have an impact on him at work. They all knew that a sleepy cop was a dead cop, but Jay was still alive. But, there were downfalls, such as getting jittery from all the caffeine he was ingesting early in the morning and then crashing and almost falling asleep doing reports when he had to work late. Well, he didn't have to work late per se, he decided to work late to put off sleeping. He knew none of this was helpful and none of this would solve the problem, but he thought it would be fine. Everything would be fine and the nightmares would eventually go away. They always do. And then everything would be normal again in his brain.

God, he longed for that: the normalcy.

So, for the umpteenth night in a row, he grabbed a pillow and a blanket and made his way to your bedroom to sleep on the floor to make sure you were alive. He put his watch on vibrate and set the alarm for 6 am because he knew you wouldn't be awake that early...especially not on the weekend.

Only when the irrational part of his brain was sure that you weren't going to die, did he finally find solace in sleep.

***

Went to get coffee with Will and to work on homework. Be home eventually, you scribbled on a sticky note and stuck it on the back of the apartment door before you left. Jay had gotten called in to work a case earlier this morning, and you needed a change of scenery to work on some AP World History homework.

You grabbed your backpack, keys, and wallet, and made your way to the parking garage. Then, you left.

About ten minutes later, you arrived at the coffee shop. Not seeing Will, you set your stuff down and went to grab a coffee and a muffin. Don't get it wrong, Jay still didn't like the fact that you drank coffee, but you only drank it when you went out to get it. It wasn't like you drank it every morning or drank two or three cups a day like he did.

You started to read your textbook and take some notes on the vocab. You were so focused that you jumped when Will slid into the chair across from you and said your name.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Lots to do?"

"Not a ton," you replied. "Just gotta read a chapter and take some notes. Then I'm done with homework for the weekend."

"So, you said you think something's up with Jay?" Will asked.

You had texted him that morning to see if you could meet up because you were worried. You had seen how tired he looked and how he poured his coffee into a larger tumbler than normal, one that was almost double the size of his normal one. Bags under his eyes and more coffee than normal had given you the impression that Jay was no longer sleeping, and rightfully so.

"I don't think he's sleeping," you told him.

"And you know this how?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because he looks like shit- sorry, he looks like crap, and he drinks a ton more coffee in the morning than he normally does."

"Maybe he just doesn't like the coffee at the district and is bringing more from home," he suggested.

"I don't think so."

"Is he still working out? Still going to the gym?"

"I think so. I'm usually still asleep when he goes, so I wouldn't know either way."

"Anything else?"

"Uh, actually, yeah." You closed your textbook. "I'm pretty sure he was sick last night."

"Sick? Like how sick?"

"He was puking. I wanted to call you but he told me no."

"How'd you find him?"

"Leaning against the bathtub, no shirt, dripping sweat, and mouth wide open."

"I see," Will said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Last night when I mentioned calling you, he said he was fine. But, when I pushed, he told me to leave and when I told him no, he yelled and cursed at me."

"He swore at you?" Will grit his teeth.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I don't know what's going on, Will. He hasn't been himself lately."

"Hey, I'll figure it out, okay? I'll make sure he's okay. I can even come over later tonight and check him out if you want me to."

"He'll fight you on that."

"I'm used to unruly patients. Is that what you--" His phone rang and he held up a finger to you to wait for a second while he answered. "Hey, Maggie. What's up?" He paused and then sighed. "I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and started gathering his stuff.

"What? Did something happen and you have to go to work?" you asked.

"Oh, something happened all right. I just got a call saying Jay was brought into Med."

You started to pack up your backpack and grabbed your keys. "I'll follow you there."

***

Jay didn't know what happened. One second he was driving, blinking heavily, the next Hailey was yelling at him and had reached over to grab the wheel, but it was too late. He was too close. When he opened his eyes, he tried to slam on the brake, but it didn't help. The next millisecond, he and Hailey crashed into an electrical pole in Pilsen.

He was awake after that.

"What the hell happened?" Voight asked after he had thrown his car in park and he and Al rushed over to Jay and Hailey.

"I think he fell asleep at the wheel," Hailey answered as she and Jay both stepped out of the truck.

"I did not," Jay protested.

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain you just running into an electrical pole when there weren't even cars running us off the road?" Hailey yelled.

"I didn't fall asleep! I'm fully awake! Just drop it, Upton."

"Drop it? You do know if we would've hit that at full speed and it fell on us that we could've been electrocuted to death, right?"

"But that didn't happen--"

"Halstead, Upton, I'm bringing both of you to Med to get checked out. After that, you're going home to get some rest, Halstead. You look like hell," Voight told them.

"Sarge--"

"This isn't up for discussion. Get in the damn car." The two detectives walked to Voight's car, while Voight turned to Alvin. "Call Platt to get us some patrolmen to help. You good waiting here for them to pick you up while I bring them to Med?"

"Yeah, go. I'll handle this."

When Jay finally got to Med, to say he was not happy would be an understatement. He didn't need to be in the hospital and he sure as hell didn't need to be kicked off the case and told to go home to get some rest.

"Mags, what room is he in?"

Shit, they had called Will.

"Treatment Four."

Will walked into the room followed by you.

"You didn't have to come, neither of you did."

"Well, too bad," Will said. "Should've put her as your emergency contact instead of me. Oh wait, you can't, she's still too young. Guess you're stuck with me."

"All set," Hailey said as she walked in. "You ready to go?"

"Who's this?" you asked.

"My new partner," Jay told you. "Hailey, this is Y/N and Will, my siblings I told you about. Y/N and Will, my new partner, Hailey Upton."

"Nice to meet you. I've heard good things."

Will scoffed. "Would one of those good things be that Jay absolutely hates hospitals and I always have to make sure he doesn't leave against medical advice?"

"He didn't mention that, no."

"Well, either way, nice to meet Jay's new partner. Do you mind if I talk to him? Privately?"

"No problem."

Will turned to you. "You too, Y/N. Go grab some food or hang out with Hailey or something."

Will focused his attention on Jay when you and Hailey had left the treatment room. "Y/N told me she doesn't think you're sleeping and from what I heard from Maggie about why you were brought in here, don't even bother lying to me."

"I'm fine, Will, really. Nothing to worry about."

"Fine then. I'm gonna go order a blood test."

"Blood test? You're not even on shift! And, you can't even be my doctor if you were!" Jay protested.

"I read that April's your nurse, so I'm going to go find her and tell her to order a blood test then."

"Why?"

"To see if your plasma cortisol levels are elevated and if your cortisol testosterone levels have decreased," Will answer matter-of-factly.

"And you need those because...?"

"If the plasma cortisol level is elevated and the cortisol testosterone level is lowered, then those are both indicators that you haven't been sleeping. Be back, little brother."

Jay groaned and threw his head back. He didn't think he'd need to be stuck with a needle today. If only had put someone else down as his emergency contact, then this wouldn't be happening. Or, if his brother just wasn't a doctor or didn't work at this specific hospital then this wouldn't be happening, either.

***

Jay was walking you to school when you were eight years old. On your back, you had your backpack and you were holding Jay's hand and skipping to keep up with his long strides. Jay chuckled at how cute and innocent you were. He didn't want you to ever grow up.

"Jay Jay," you started, causing him to look down at you, "Did you get all the bad guys when you left?"

"Why do you ask?" He swallowed. He knew if you asked the right questions, he might not know how to answer them. And, his last tour was horrific, losing all the members of his unit except Mouse...the burning Humvee...the combatants still coming towards them...

"I don't know. I just wanted to know if there were any left?" you asked.

"There probably are."

"Do you have to go back there? Do you have to leave again to go fight the bad guys?"

Jay's breath hitched. He was honorably discharged after what had happened, so he wouldn't have to back. But, as he was thinking about how to answer you, the scene changed.

Screaming. All he could hear was screaming and the crackling of flames.

He looked around saw the scene from his last tour, his Humvee flipped over with all the members of his unit currently burning to crisp. He and Mouse had been walking behind, keeping watch of their six which is why they weren't in there.

"Help! Jay Jay, help!" He heard you scream and racked his brain from where that could be coming from because you were an ocean away, no way were you actually there.

"Dude, your sister's in there!" And Mouse took off running.

Jay quickly caught up to him. "What? She's not here! She's at home in Chicago!"

"No, she's not! You couldn't bear to leave her, so you brought her with you!"

Okay, now Jay knew he was caught in the midst of a nightmare because he would never do that. He would never bring a little girl into the midst of a war where she could get hurt or killed. Damn that melatonin he took that night because he was currently in so deep a sleep that he couldn't wake up.

"Jay Jay!"

He took off running again and came up to the edge of the Humvee. Your leg was crushed under it and it was one of the only parts of the vehicle that hadn't caught fire...yet. He needed to get you out and he needed to get you out fast or else you would be burned to death. But, to do that, he knew he'd be sacrificing your leg.

"Mouse! Get me a tourniquet and the biggest knife you have! Make sure you sterilize it!" Jay shouted. You let out a whine.

"You're doing a field amputation?" Mouse asked as he grabbed the supplies.

"I don't have any other choice." You let out a whimper. "Hey, hey, look at me. Focus on me. I'm gonna get you out of there."

"P-Promise?" you asked as tears ran down your cheeks.

"I promise. Now I need you to hold really still and be a brave girl, okay? Can you be brave for me?" You nodded as Mouse handed Jay the equipment for the tourniquet. "This is going to hurt," Jay warned you as he slid the piece of fabric underneath your leg and then started tying it.

You screamed out in agony.

"I know, I know. But, It's gotta be tight. It's gotta be tight, kiddo."

"Jay! Nine o'clock!"

Jay turned to his left and pointed his gun straight at the combatant.

"Jay...Jay..." he heard your voice wavering as you tried to get his attention. But, it didn't sound like your voice. It sounded lower, more mature even. "Jay, please." the voice that sounded like you was pleading now. "Jay Jay, please. You're- You're safe."

Jay snapped his eyes open.

There you were, at sixteen years old, holding your hands up in surrender. He was home, in Chicago.

"Jay, please," you whispered once more.

It was only when he looked down that he realized he must've thought you were the combatant in his dream because he had his service weapon pointed straight at you.

He dropped his gun onto his bed. "Y/N, I- you gotta believe me. That wasn't--"

But you were already running out of his room to grab your keys and get as far away from Jay as possible.

***

Will was awoken to a loud knocking on his door at 2:37 in the morning. "Who the fuck is here right now?" he muttered as he rubbed his eyes and stood up and threw on a shirt.

But, all his anger at being woken up at this ungodly hour washed away as he looked through the peep-hole and saw you, tears still streaming down your face.

He yanked the door open. "Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"He pointed a gun at me!" you wailed as you entered.

Will shut the door and made his way over to you. "Who? Did you tell Jay? Where were you?"

"Jay was the one who did it, Will! He pointed the- the gun right at me!"

Will's breath caught in his throat. He had his hunches that Jay was having nightmares again based on what you had told him and based on him falling asleep while driving and based on his blood work, but he didn't think they'd have gotten this bad. "Are you okay? he asked you quietly.

You shook your head and Will led you over to the couch.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You sighed. "I heard him scream, so I woke up to see what was wrong. When I walked- When I walked into his room he was squeezing his pillow with his hand like he was holding something. He was dripping sweat."

You paused and took a deep breath.

"It's okay," Will told you. Take your time."

"Then, he just, he just whipped around and grabbed his gun from- from on top of his nightstand. I don't why it wasn't in the safe where it usually is. And that's when he..."

"That's when he pointed it at you?"

You nodded as tears rolled down your cheeks. "I said his name over and over and he finally snapped out of it."

"And that's when you came here?"

You nodded again.

"Well, how about we put on a movie, and then you can try to get some sleep. I'll stop over at Jay's tomorrow when you're at school. I'm pretty sure you have some clothes here just in case."

"Thanks, Will."

"No problem, Short Stack."

***

Jay heard a knock on his door the next day. Will had texted him and told him that you were safe and at his place because Jay had been blowing up Will's phone looking for you. So, at least he wasn't worried about that anymore.

Jay sipped his beer and waited for the knocking to stop, but it just became increasingly louder.

"Jay, open the damn door!"

Reluctantly, with beer still in hand, Jay stood up and opened his apartment door. "What the hell are you doing here?" Jay asked.

"Gimme that," Will said as he ripped the beer bottle from Jay's hand after he'd entered his apartment. "And, for your information, I'm making sure you're not drinking yourself to death." He looked around at the two other empty beer bottles on the counter. It wasn't even one o'clock in the afternoon yet. "Which, I guess I came just in time."

"Just let me drink it." Jay tried to take the bottle back, but Will held it out of his reach. Then, he made his way over to the kitchen sink and poured it out.

"Shit, man. I paid for that."

"I don't really give a damn right now, Jay. You pointed a fucking gun at our little sister. She came to my place bawling last night. You're lucky she didn't get into a car accident because of how distraught she was when she was driving."

"I know, I know. I fucked up, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, you fucked up all right. This is probably the single-handed worse thing you've done in your entire life."

"Did you just come here to lecture me?" Jay yelled. "If so, the door's that way and you can get the hell out!"

Will sighed. "I didn't come here just to do that, but I needed to get that out first. You need to talk to someone about this, Jay."

"I'm talking to you. Isn't that enough?"

"A trained professional."

"You are a trained professional."

"I'm a trained medical professional, not a trained psychological professional."

Jay sat on the couch and put his head in his hands. That scene from last night had been replaying in his head for almost twelve hours now.

Him hearing your voice...seeing you with your hands raised while they were shaking...how much of whisper your voice was...the feeling of guilt that swallowed him whole when he noticed he was holding his service weapon...you sprinting out of the house in the middle of the night...

"Jay," Will said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You still with me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm still here. Sorry." He paused. "Last night, I guess I was so out of it that I forgot to lock up my gun and left it on my bedside table. If I had just locked it up, this wouldn't have happened. If I just wouldn't have taken the melatonin, this wouldn't have happened. If I was just able to fucking sleep this wouldn't have happened."

"How long haven't you been sleeping?" Will asked gently.

"The nightmares started when I shot that little girl, Will."

"Jay, it's been weeks since that happened."

"I know. And they just keep getting worse. At first, it was Y/N who was the little girl I shot when I was chasing the offenders when the bullet went through the illegal daycare center. And then, they started turning into me being overseas and Y/N somehow being with me and her being shot over there. Last night- last night was the worst."

"You don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to."

"Thank you," Jay replied. Because in all honestly, that was one of the worst nightmares he's ever had since getting on his medication.

"Is that why you're sleeping on Y/N's bedroom floor?"

"How'd you know? I didn't even think she knew."

"She knows. She said she'll wake up in the middle of the night and you'll be there, on her floor, with a pillow and a blanket, and you'll sneak out before she wakes up."

"I just, I needed to make sure she was safe. I needed to make sure she was still alive, Will."

"I really think you need to talk to someone. Maybe ask about getting your meds increased."

"I've been on the same dose for over two years now. You really think they'd need to be upped?"

"It's a possibility. But, we need to talk about Y/N now."

Jay sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, we do. I have no idea what to do, Will. I'm supposed to be her legal guardian and I couldn't even keep her safe. I was the one who made her feel not safe."

"I know it's gonna be hard for you to hear this," Will started, "but, she doesn't want to come back here for a little while."

"Yeah, I figured that when she didn't answer my texts."

"Listen, she and I talked this morning, and if you go see someone today or tomorrow and see someone about getting your meds upped, she'd stay with me for two weeks so the meds have time to get into your system, and then we'll go from there."

"So, all I have to do is get my meds upped?"

"Well, that might be the best option. But, I still think you should talk to someone, Jay. Either a therapist or a psychiatrist or even a veteran's support group might be helpful."

"Okay. But, can you just tell her that I'm so sorry? And that, I wasn't in my right mind? I didn't know it was her, I swear."

"I know you didn't. Now, no more drinking, you have appointments to schedule." Will paused. "Have you talked to Voight? Maybe you shouldn't be working while you're trying to figure this out."

"I do not need to take time off."

"Yes, you do. Do you want our little sister to hate you or not?"

"Fine. I'll take two weeks furlough."

"That's all I ask. Please do not get shitfaced because I will babysit you if I have to."

"Then who's gonna stay with Y/N?"

"I'll figure something out."

***

"You're sure I'm good to go back?" you asked Will as you walked into yours and Jay's apartment building.

"Y/N, he hasn't had a nightmare in a week and a half. Everything's gonna be fine," Will answered.

"I know. I know I shouldn't be scared of my own brother, but, uh, what happened that night, it was..."

"Terrifying?" Will finished for you.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I'll be there the entire weekend in case anything happens."

"Thanks, Will."

***

Later that night, you laid in bed, trying to fall asleep. But, you couldn't. You just couldn't shake the feeling of walking into Jay's room to try and wake him from a nightmare and having a gun pointed right at you. You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe tonight was the night that Jay would have a nightmare and end up sleepwalking into your bedroom with his gun drawn.

So, you were sitting up in bed, at 3:30 am, having just finished your last movie an hour and a half ago with your lamp on and the current book you were reading open.

You heard the sound of your door opening and looked up.

You held your breath.

Jay was in your room.

"Y/N, what are you still doing awake?" he asked, slowly moving closer to you so he didn't scare you.

You sighed in relief. He was conscious. He was awake.

"I can't sleep," you answered honestly.

"Is it because of me? That you can't sleep?" You looked down and that was all the confirmation Jay needed. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I've said it a lot these past few weeks, but I'm truly sorry. You have to understand that it wasn't me."

"I know. I just, you scared you me, Jay. I was scared I was going to die that night."

"Y/N, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened."

"And you haven't had any nightmares?"

"None in over ten days," he answered.

"Then why are you in my room? I know you come in here sometimes after you have nightmares."

"I came to make sure you were sleeping. Will mentioned you were nervous and I know you don't like to sleep when you're nervous."

"Oh." You paused. "Can you tell me what you were dreaming about? When you pointed the gun at me?"

"Y/N, I'd really prefer not to. I don't want to go back there."

"I get it," you said. "It's traumatic. Like how even though Dad isn't drinking anymore, I don't want to go back and live with him."

"Exactly."

You moved over. "You can come sit if you want." Jay sat down on the bed next to you and handed you Beary so that he didn't squash him. You closed your book. "Can you tell me a story?"

"Like a fairytale like when you were little and Mom would make me read those princess books to you?" Jay chuckled.

"No, maybe a you and Will story or a me and you story from I was little and don't remember much?"

Jay thought for a second until he found the perfect one filed away in his brain under Y/N stories. "Do you remember that time when you brought your first aid kit on your bike because you had just made it in girl scouts?"

"A little, but not really."

"Okay, I'll tell you that one then."

"Jay Jay!" little seven-year-old you exclaimed as you run up to Jay. "Ride bikes with me?"

"I think my bike has a flat tire, but I can get my skateboard. Is that okay with you?" Jay asked.

"Yeah! But Mommy said you gotta wear a helmet because she said we gotta protect our heads," you told him while putting your hands on your hips.

"That's right! How could I forget that? I'll be right back and then we can go, okay?"

"Okay!"

While Jay ran off to find his bike, you ran off to get your first aid kit that you had just made in girl scouts and Beary to put in the little basket on the front of your purple princess bike.

You waited for him and when he reappeared with his skateboard and helmet, he asked what you had.

"Beary and this I made in girl scouts yesterday," you told him. "It has bandaids and this white tape and white soft stuff and wipies."

You handed it to him to take a look. Inside, there were different sizes of bandaids, medical tape, gauze, and antiseptic wipes. "This is such a good first aid kit, kiddo!"

"Thank you!"

You got your bike out of the garage and clipped on your helmet. Jay pressed down on the horn attached to your handlebars before stepping onto his skateboard.

You two rode down the street and then Jay got to a ramp that some kids had made. There was one ramp, a gap, and then another ramp.

"Jay Jay!" you exclaimed. "Can you go on that?"

Jay had gone on homemade skateboard ramps like those hundreds of times. Hell, he'd even made one home and he and Will would do kickflips in the air when going on it when your guys' mom was home. She'd have a heart attack if she saw her sons doing that.

"I can even do a trick while I'm in the air," Jay told you.

"Really?" you asked, your eyes going wide.

"Really. Wanna see?"

"Yes please!"

Jay started a few yards back from the first ramp and started propelling himself forward, gaining speed. Then, your jaw dropped as he skated onto the first ramp and into the air.

"Whoa," you whispered to yourself as he did his kickflip in midair between the two ramps.

But, Jay had overestimated the distance between the two ramps, so when he landed, he landed on the road and not the ramp with way too much force, causing him to fall off his skateboard and land on the ground, scraping his hands across the road.

"Jay Jay!" you yelled as you quickly kicked down your kickstand and grabbed your first aid kit. "Are you okay?" you asked.

Jay stood up and grabbed his skateboard. "I'm fine. Just a little blood, nothing to worry about."

"You're bleeding? Where? I can fix it."

He held up his right hand where his palm was a little bloody. You started to open your first aid kit and Jay knew there was no point in arguing with you, so he just crouched down to your height.

You grabbed a bandaid and started to open it. "You gotta clean it out first, nurse," Jay told you.

"Oh. With the wipey-thingies?"

"Yes, with those."

You opened one of the antiseptic wipes--with Jay's help because those were really hard to open!--and wiped down his palm. Then, you put the bandaid on.

"All better!" you exclaimed as you put the trash back into your first aid kit. "Can we keep going?" you asked.

"We sure can!"

You ran back to your bike and put the first aid kit into the basket next to Beary and then you got on your bike and caught up to Jay. And then, you were off around the block again.

"We really thought you were going to be a doctor or a nurse after that," Jay said. "But, then you realized you hated both math and science." He looked down at you. "Oh, you're asleep."

He set your book on your nightstand and turned off the lamp. Then, he slowly crept out of your room and closed the door, and went back to his room to fall into a nightmare-less sleep.

Despite Will sleeping on the couch, things were back to normal in yours and Jay's apartment and neither of you could've been happier.

A/N: Hey guys, I wanted to get this posted before I'm away for the weekend and probably without internet. As always, thank you for reading, and please reblog/like and comment! I love hearing what you guys think, as it gives me tons of motivation to keep writing! If you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things 

[enjolras-out]

For the character game: our favorite shape shifting LU supervillain

hhmmmMMMMMMMMMmmmmm interesting Gin, interesting…

First impression: goop? Black goop with eyes? Same thing as Malice? Now he’s a lizard? Is that the same thing as the black goop with eyes??

Impression now: a kind of mix of the potential darksides of all the heroes so he’s super powerful and emotionally really interesting to think about because all those darksides came from somewhere. I’m excited to find out more about Dark and his story and if the chain will actually get to know him as more nuanced than just a monster (I think this won't happen in canon... but it is happening in my head)

Favourite moment: fighting Wolfie in the ruins after "you want to fight like a beast now?" It's just so tense and focused. Both of them are giving the fight everything they’ve got and the art is so powerful and vivid.

Idea for a story: I don’t have a particularly well developed idea about Dark in my head but I love possession stories/Dark shapeshifting into one of the Links. I also like the idea of someone (probably Hyrule or Legend because Hyrule or Legend) fighting with him in some kind of eerie liminal mental landscape but this is just a vaguely epic scene bouncing around in my head.

Unpopular opinion: I am really bad at this question. His fashion choices are getting progressively worse. The whole iron knuckle thing was not his most flattering look (idk I’m sorry)

Favorite relationship: I feel like in the comic his relationship with Wild is about to get extremely interesting because now he knows to take Wild seriously, which means mess with his head let’s be honest, and Wild has already shown us he’s ready to move mountains to take Dark down after hurting Twilight, so…

And if we assume Hyrule’s shadow (which I do though I may just be exposing my ignorance of Zelda lore, please correct me if so!) is basically the first version of Dark then I’m pretty excited to see what could happen here. In that situation, Hyrule’s already fought Dark (I know he’s not the only one but he was the first) and knows what it’s like to fight yourself (and potentially lose). And at least in my hc evil always feels too close (physically and emotionally) to Hyrule so being confronted with an old enemy that’s this personal would be intense angst territory.

Favorite headcanon: Dark isn’t evil, he’s the inversion and pathologization of the hero's spirit. Which maybe is the same as evil, but a much more complicated evil in that case. I feel like when (if?) the chain figures out the implications of who he is they’d feel more sadness and anger than hate because in Dark’s very existence there’s so much of each of them to mourn and pity.

Asks from here!

[outerbankspreferences]

Love Story - JJ Maybank

Request: Anonymous said:A jj imagine where the reader and him are secretly dating cause she’s a kook but she has a “fake” (rafe doesn’t think it’s fake and wants it to be real) relationship with rafe because their parents made them date for the family buisness or whatever and rafe catches them meeting up one night or something and he tells her parents and they go and get her and she fights to be with him??? (Sorry Ik it’s super long lol)

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 6485

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to post, but I’ve been going through some stuff and working, but I hope you enjoy this, Plus this is the longest fic I’ve ever written.

  We were both young when I first saw you I close my eyes and the flashback starts I'm standin' there On a balcony in summer air See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns See you make your way through the crowd And say, "Hello" Little did I know

  You were stuck at another Kook event hosted by the country club your parents attend. Your parents were one of the wealthier families in the Outer banks. Your father was the district attorney, and your mother was an accomplished writer. You always hated the flashy money lifestyle they lived, finding it completely fake. The only other family that came closer to yours were the Cameron’s’. Ward and Rose Cameron had plenty of businesses and investments which helped them claim high status on the Figure Eight.

 It’s didn’t surprise anyone how close the two families were. You and Sarah were close friends considering you were the same age. You and Sarah bonded over many shopping trips and getaways. You weren’t as close with her other siblings, finding Wheezie annoying and Rafe stuck up. You thought maybe Rafe would grow out of things as he got older, but he grew into a nasty personality that your parents were oblivious to.

 It had been your father and Ward’s idea to set the two of you up. Ward was trying to sneak his way into your lives, thinking the DA wouldn’t be a bad friend to have when he needed something done. Your father thought Rafe was a “wonderful young gentleman with plenty to offer.” You didn’t think anything of it when it would just be your parents and the two of you until you found out from Sarah that she wasn’t invited because of this arrangement.

 You were happy to carry on the façade if it helped your parents. What could it hurt? A few supper dates and showing up to events together. At least you wouldn’t have suffer through dumb Kook things alone. Soon enough you and Rafe started to hang out even when you didn’t have to. You liked seeing this side of Rafe, a more vulnerable side. He was carefree and silly when he was with you. Rafe had found himself falling for you and all your quirks. He had been feeling a lot of pressure from his father about taking over the business, and you seemed to ease some of the pressure from him.

 You thought he was an okay person before he started doing drugs. You were fine with smoking weed considering you smoked yourself. You were even okay with the partying and drinking, but when you found out he was snorting coke, it went too far for you. You had talked to him about and he would always brush it off as being too stressed and it helped him. He would always get upset when you talked about, so you tried to avoid the subject.

 Soon enough the drugs took over his life and he started to sell them. The people he hung out with scared you, so you kept your distance. It was rolling around to Midsummers and you were nervous of going with Rafe. He seemed to be snapping at you more and more lately and you weren’t looking forward to seeing him.

 ~~

You and Sarah had gone to the mainland one day to go dress shopping and have lunch. You guys were wondering around the store when she started going on about some boy she had met. “I don’t know Y/N, he’s so great but things are so complicated.” Sarah spoke, but you didn’t understand. The last time you checked she was seeing Topper, and things were going great. “Wait are we talking about Topper? What can be complicated there, he’s a nice guy.” You questioned. “What if I’m not talking about Topper?” She trailed off, trying to gage your reaction. “I don’t know you guys were having troubles, but if he doesn’t make you happy then you should probably move on before it gets too serious.” You skimmed through some more dresses, grabbing a green one you liked. “Wait, if you’re not seeing Topper then, who is it?” You looked over at her.

 “You promise not to tell anyone?” She asked almost whispering like the other people in the store might be listening. You nodded encouraging her to tell you. “John B.” She whispered. “John B. that works on your dads bought John B.? Oh-Rose is going to so pissed.” You laughed to yourself. “Yeah, we had some weird encounter the other day after the Boneyard party.” “You mean the party that he fought Topper, and that JJ Maybank almost shot him?” You recounted the last party you guys went too; things had gotten out hand quickly. “You know how things went down Y/N, Topper almost killed John B.” She reminded you. “Well, if he makes you happy then I say go for it. I’ll support you. I mean, he’s friends are pretty hot.” You giggled thinking about how attractive you found JJ.

 You never tried to pursue anything with JJ because everyone knew he didn’t go for Kooks, or actual relationships. It was more of a “one and done” kind of scenario with him, and you knew that’s not what you wanted. It didn’t stop you from checking him out from your bedroom window when he came to mow your lawn once a week.

 ~~

The night of midsummers had finally rolled around, and you were getting everything ready. You had your hair appointment earlier in the day and now you were getting the finishing touches of your makeup down and giggling with Sarah. “Are you guys almost done?” Rose had come in seeming inpatient. This year the Cameron’s were getting honored for all the hard work Ward had down for the community and you had to walk in with them. “Uh yeah we’re almost done, just finishing up.” You spoke up. Rose let out a huff and told you guys to be downstairs in five minutes. “Oh god, I think that crowns gone to her head.” Sarah spoke up making you laugh out loud. “What’s so funny in here?” Rafe came in texting on his phone. He was wearing a baby blue suit and you had on a simple off-white gown. When Rafe looked at you his jaw dropped. He had been to plenty events with you, but you had never gotten this dressed up. He thought looked stunning in your dress. “Holy shit Y/L/N, you look amazing” he spoke causing you to blush. Rose called up to you guys again pulling you from you trance. You and Sarah got up and headed downstairs and Rafe said he needed to get something from his room.

 You guys were downstairs taking pictures with your family when you father asked where Rafe was. “I’m right here” Rafe spoke coming around the corner. You could see a bit of white powder on his suit and you knew exactly what he went to do. You rushed up and brushed the bit of powder away before anyone could tell and he let out a silent thank you. Once you got the pictures done, everyone got ready to leave, but you pulled Rafe aside for a second.

 “No funny business, promise?” You asked looking into his eyes, but all you could see were blown pulps and him rolling them. “When do I ever cause problems?” He countered obviously annoyed. “I’m not saying that Rafe, I’m just saying that I don’t want anything to happen like last time.” You explained. He moved out of your grip and headed for the door. “As long as those Pouges don’t cause any problems then we have nothing to worry about.”

 ~~

You practically avoided Rafe like the plague the rest of the night. You and Sarah had dance for awhile before you were interrupted by JJ Maybank, “this is from Vlad.” He shouted over the music before moving to scoop you up in his arms spinning you around as he handed something to Sarah. You looked at her confused, but she was smiling like an idiot. You gave JJ a weird look, “young love, makes people do crazy things.” He spoke still dancing with you.

 You got a good look at his face; it had a few scars and a small black eye. You pretended not to notice, even though you knew it was from the movie night last week. Rafe had come home with the similar marks.

 That you were Romeo, you were throwin' pebbles And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet" And I was cryin' on the staircase Beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

 “Where’s your plus one princess?” JJ asked pulling you a little closer to him. You couldn’t help but blush at the nickname. “He’s somewhere”- “I’m right here Maybank, and I’m pretty sure you’re dancing with my girl.” Rafe stepped in, “do you mind getting me another drink, you’re working here right?” He said in nasty tone. “Well, I would you see, but I’m super busy,” JJ spoke trying to get away from the death grip Rafe had on the collar of his shirt. “Rafe, stop please, you promised.” You cut in, not wanting to cause a scene. Rafe let go of JJ and grabbed you by the arm pulling you away. You sent an apologetic look to JJ before leaving with Rafe.

 Rafe had pulled you all through the venue before he got to the balcony on the second floor. “What the hell Y/N? Do you know how that looks to everyone when you defend some low life over me?” He yelled at you. You had never seen Rafe this angry with you before. “Why does it even matter, it’s not like we’re actually dating. We’re doing this to help our parents out.” You raised your voice at him. “These people don’t know that,” he gestured to everyone downstairs. “they think we’re together, but know they think you’re with that scumbag.” “Shut up Rafe, you don’t know anything about him.” You hollered at him. He had no right to say those things about JJ.

 What you didn’t know was that JJ was watching from the party. He knew what Rafe was like when he was angry. He wanted to go after you when Rafe drug you away, but he also didn’t want to cause any drama towards you. He watched the two of you go up the balcony. When he saw Rafe getting in your face he headed towards the balcony to make sure you were okay.

 When he got up there, he could tell you were crying, and he could still hear Rafe yelling at you. “Is everything okay Y/N?” He asked walking towards you and Rafe shook his head, “everything is fine pouge, mind your own damn business.” JJ ignored what Rafe was saying, walking towards you, “do you want to come downstairs Y/N?” he asked softly, trying to calm you down. “Look, I said we’re fine, she’s fine”- “oh yeah, most girls are fine when they’re crying like that.” JJ cut Rafe off, and you finally spoke up. “I want to go home, JJ can you please take me home.” You asked him, not looking at Rafe. “Y/N don’t be dramatic. I can take you home, we came here together.” Rafe reasoned with you, but you didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

 JJ led you out of the venue and towards the door when Kelce and Topper stopped him. “Oh shit.” He mumbled under his breath, but you heard. You grabbed his hand, silently telling him you were scared, and he tucked you behind him. “Hey there Maybank, where do you think you’re going?” Kelce asked, looking down at you. “Great choice of company Y/N, hanging with trash like yourself.” He snickered, and JJ pushed him back, “what the hell did you just say about her.” He questioned and Topper pushed JJ. You saw security make there way over with your father and Rafe.

 Once you left with JJ, Rafe had gone to find your father, and update him on the “bad influences” you had been hanging out with. Of course, to your father Rafe was once again the hero, even though he had been making you cry not only ten minutes earlier.

 You pulled on JJ’s sleave, “J please, can we go.” You pleaded not wanting to have this fight out in the open. Before you and JJ had the chance to make a quick getaway you father grabbed you by the arm. “Y/N what are you doing?” He asked in a hush tone pulling you away from JJ before security escorted him out. You looked back at sent JJ and apologetic look and he just winked at you.

 Your father took you home after that and you got the third degree from both he and your mom. “He’s a pouge Y/N/N, you deserve so much more.” You mother said, she wasn’t nearly as upset as your father. “I thought things were going well between you and Rafe, you guys seemed to get along so well.” She questioned. “How do you know what he’s like, you’ve never met him. I was just trying to help him get out before Rafe and his goon squad could cause a bigger scene.” You informed them. “Oh please, had Rafe not come got me, that Maybank’ kid would have started a fight with those boys. I’ve heard the stories Y/N, and I’ve talked to Deputy Shoupe. He’s told me all about his father’s business.”

 Your father was being harsh. You didn’t know much about JJ, but everyone on this island knew about his hot temper. “I don’t want to catch you around that boy again. Do you understand me?” He asked, “yes, I understand you.” You responded trying to put the conversation to rest.

 You stuck to your word, but it really wasn’t that hard. You guys lived on opposite sides of the island and never ran into each other. You had only seen him once at the Wreck and you were too nervous to go talk to him, plus he was just leaving with his friends. You spent a lot of nights thinking about him. You don’t know why he stuck up for you with Rafe that night, but you were glad he had.

 The next time you saw JJ alone was at the beach. You had gone out early in the morning to paint the sunrise. There was a quiet spot on the beach that no one knew of. It was off the beaten path and was always so calm. Art was your way to escape everything and just be in the moment. When you got there, you noticed someone was already there surfing. You couldn’t tell from the shore who it was, but you decided to stay anyways.

 You got yourself all settled and started to sketch the outlines, including the surfer. You had your music playing softly in the background just enjoying being in the moment. You must have zoned out because once you looked back up you noticed the person surfing was coming from the water. You were shocked to recognize JJ’s signature blonde shaggy hair. ‘Of course, it had to be him’ you thought to yourself. You hoped he wouldn’t recognize you, considering the last time he saw you; you were all dressed up for midsummers.

 You went back to your painting, trying to look busy but that didn’t stop him from coming up to you. “Y/N?” He asked even though he knew it was you. “Oh, hi JJ, how are you?” You asked looking up at him. The sun was making a halo around him, and he looked gorgeous. “I’m good, what are you doing out here so early?” He asked, JJ thought he was the only one who knew of this place. “Uh, I’m just trying to get some sketches done. The sun always hits the marsh so nice out here in the morning.” You explained as he dropped his surf bored to sit next to you.

 You moved over so he would have space on the blanket, and he helped himself to some of the fruit your brought with you. “I never think to bring snacks, you have anything else to eat?” He asked, “yeah I have some yogurt and granola in the backpack.” You told him and rummaged through to find it. You didn’t mind him eating it, you weren’t hungry anyways.

 JJ was grateful that you let him eat your food. John B was away and the meant he couldn’t go over there and get food. He had eaten at the Wreck a couple of times, but he could only live off leftover fish and chips for so long. He basically inhaled the yogurt, finally getting a good look at what you were painting. It was the marsh, with him surfing. He didn’t know you were that talented. You guys made small talk while you finished the picture. JJ couldn’t understand why he wanted to be around you, maybe it was the calming effect you had on him.

 Of course, he had seen you around the island before, but he never paid much attention. You were a Kook and by island rules, you were off limits. He knew that at midsummers, but he couldn’t help but step in when Rafe was treated you poorly. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble at Midsummers.” He spoke up. You hadn’t expected him to bring the conversation up. “Oh, don’t apologize. If anything, I owe you an apology. My dad shouldn’t have had your escorted like some”- “Criminal?” JJ cut in, still a little upset with being kicked out. “yeah, like that.” You said, “if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re a criminal. I mean I don’t really know you, but I don’t get the criminal vibes, y’know?” You spoke causing the both of you to laugh.

 “Is that me in your painting?” He asked looking over your shoulder and you could feel his breath on your skin. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his tan skin on your own. “Uh-yeah it is. But I didn’t know it was you when I started, so does that make it less weird?” You asked, not looking at him. “It’s not weird, I’m flatter that you would include me in your drawing.” He told you and you could sense the honesty in his voice. You finished up some little details before signing it at the bottom with a heart handing it over to the blonde. “Here you can have it. I have too many drawings of this place anyways.” JJ took the drawing and placed it safely in his book bag.

 You both collected your things getting ready to leave. “Maybe we can meet here again?” JJ asked hopeful you would take him up on his offer. “Uh, yeah sure. How about tomorrow?” You suggest, wanting to see him as soon as possible. “Alright, let’s meet here around 8 tomorrow morning.” “Okay.” You say smiling like an idiot before JJ is leaving in his truck.

 It became a ritual between the two of you. Always meeting up there to hang out. It was easier to keep it a secret from everyone. JJ wasn’t worried about the Pouges knowing, but he knew the Kooks would never let you live it down. Of course, you didn’t care about that, but it was your family you worried about. JJ knew the pressure they put on you to be the perfect daughter and it was not easy shoes to fill. It started out innocent, just hanging out talking, you would bring food for JJ, and he would make you forgot about the pressure of being a Kook for a couple of hours.

 You and JJ shared your first kiss there too. It was late one night when you heard something being thrown at your window. You had cancelled plans with JJ because of fight with your father. It was the same argument about not spending enough time with Rafe, and how it reflected badly on him and his business. It didn’t matter to him that Rafe was seeing other girls, he was blind to the Cameron’s ways. When you got up to look out the window you saw JJ standing there waving to you. He was worried when you cancelled because you had never done that before.

 “What are you doing here?” You asked looking out the window. “Come down and see me, I missed you.” He spoke trying not to be too loud. You heart flutter thinking that he missed hanging out with you. You threw on some shoes and ran down the stairs.

 Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

So I sneak out to the garden to see you We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew So close your eyes Escape this town for a little while, oh

 Once you got outside you jumped into JJ arms giggling. The two of you took off to his truck parked down the street. “Where are we going?” You asked curiosity getting the best of you. “To our spot, I figured you need some time away.” He spoke up as he drove. You relaxed into the worn leather of the truck, and JJ was happy that you found comfort in the truck with him. He backed into the beach and the two of you got out into the bed of the truck. He grabbed some blankets from his bed at that chateau before he left and put them down to make a somewhat comfortable spot to lay down.

 The two of you laid looking up at the stars and he started point out constellations in they sky. “And there’s Ursa Major.” He pointed towards the sky, “where I don’t see it?” You spoke sounding frustrated. He took your hand in his and pointed it towards the stars, “that’s the tail those 3 stars there, and then her body and legs.” He guided your hand to point in the direction of where he was talking about. “oh, I see it now!” You exclaimed giggling.

 JJ knew at this moment that he was in love with you. He knew at this exact moment he would do anything for you. He thought that you were the most kind and gentle person he ever met, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He was pulled from his thoughts when you spoke up, “huh?” he blushed realizing you were still holding his hand. “I asked, how do you know were all these constellations are?” JJ wasn’t prepared for this conversation. You didn’t know much about his home life; he never spoke about it so you assumed he would tell you when he was ready. You could sense that he was nervous, and you squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture.

 “uh-my mom used to take me down to the beach when I was kid. We would spend hours looking at the stars and she would show me all of the constellations.” He spoke not looking at you. You watched him, he was biting his lip, a tell tale sign he was nervous. “That sounds wonderful J, it must have been nice.” You spoke softly not sure if he wanted to take the conversation and farther. “She left. I don’t know, I was like in the third grade, I think. I don’t know why, but she never came back. I guess we weren’t enough for her. My dad never forgave himself, or me for it.” He almost whispered the last part, like he didn’t want you to hear.

 You had seen the bruises and asked him about it, but he always blamed it on a run in with the Kooks, but you finally put two and two together. “He’s the one who hurts you isn’t he?” You ask never looking from him. It was a vulnerable conversation to have and you wanted him to know you were there for him. It was the first time he looked over at you since he started talking, and you could see the tears in his eyes. “Yeah, he is. He gets drunk to cope with mom leaving and then starts to yell. It’s the same thing every time, he says I have her eyes. When he’s sobers again, he apologizes but he’s stuck in vicious cycle.” You leaned closer to him resting your head on his shoulder, “one day we’re going to leave this stupid town and find our own place, I promise.” You whispered to him; you weren’t looking at him, but you knew he was smiling.

 JJ looked over at you and leaned down locking his lips onto yours. It was like a dream come true. It was everything he wanted it to be and more. You were feeling the same thing, over the last little while hanging out with JJ you had developed a crush on him but didn’t want him to know scared the feelings wouldn’t be returned.

 You both stayed in each other arms for what felt like hours when he stopped, “what time is it princess?” He asked grabbing your phone looking at the time. That’s when he saw the countless text messages from your parents. “oh shit.” He cursed under his breath. You gave him a confused look. “what? What’s wrong J?” You ask looking at your phone coming to same realization.

 'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet" But you were everything to me I was beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes" Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel This love is difficult, but it's real Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes" Oh, oh

 The two of you started to get everything packed up texting your parents to tell them you were on your way home. Just as you were climbing back in the truck another set of headlights came into view. It was weird because this was a quite a way from the rest of the island and it was late at night. “Get in the car.” JJ said to you, opening the door. You could sense his nervousness when the car came to stop. “Let’s just go JJ, probably some kids looking for a place to hook up.” You spoke wanting to go home.

 To both of your surprise your father had called Rafe asking if you were with him. When Rafe said that he hadn’t seen you all night he offered to check some of the places you hung out the most. After interrogating some hopeless Pouge, they finally told him that he saw JJ Maybank’s truck head to secluded area of the island. The kid told him that he saw you in the truck with him, and then ran off. Rafe headed towards the south end of the island watching for JJ’s truck. Once he had driven the whole south end of the island, he circled back to Topper’s place to in list his help.

 Topper got into Rafe’s truck pissed off because Rafe had interrupt his date with a girl he had been trying to win over for like a week. “What was so important I had to leave Kate for?” He asked as Rafe pulled out of the driveway. “Y/N’s dad called me and said she snuck out and she’s not answering her phone. You’re going to help me find her.” He explained. Topper was still confused. “Why do you need my help? She’s probably at a friend’s house, did you try calling her? Plus, I thought you were with that girl from the mainland now?” Topper inquired. “Yeah, well I ask around and someone said they saw her hanging out with that low life Maybank and she deserves better.” “Oh well then she’s probably on the old station road, someone told me that his trucks been out there a lot lately.”

 Rafe was fuming with anger. He was sick of you messing around with a pouge making him look bad. He also knew that he wanted to work for her father one day and getting in good with his daughter was a good way to do it. They two men pulled down the road and drove until the saw the familiar truck and watched JJ help you get in the passenger seat. Rafe had texted your father the location and told him it was best he come; this would be a good opportunity to look good in front of him again.

 You recognized the truck as soon as it came to a stop, along with your heart. JJ could tell you were scared by the way you gripped his arm. You gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry JJ.” You said and he looked at you confused until he saw who was getting out of the truck. He eyes widen at the sight of both Rafe and Topper. JJ protectively pushed you behind him before walking up to Rafe. “What’s going on here?” Rafe asked looking over at you. “Just taking Y/N home, what are you guys doing out so late?” JJ asked in a calm tone not wanting to come off threatening. He just wanted to get you home without out any fights.

 Rafe had other plans on his mind. If he was going to look good in front of your father this was one of his only chances. He gave JJ a shove, “oh yeah? What are you doing with my girl Maybank?” JJ stood his ground before getting up in Rafe’s face too, you went to grab JJ’s arm trying to avoid the fight that was about to break out. “I’m not your girl Rafe. Please JJ can we just go home.” JJ looked down at you, “can you please move your truck Rafe so I can get her home.” He asked through gritted teeth. “No Topper and I’ll take her home. She doesn’t need to be hanging out with some piece of shit from the Cut.” He said his words twisting like a knife in his back.

 JJ was beyond angry at this point, “kiss your mother with that mouth Cameron?” “At least my mom isn’t a runaway like yours.” That was all it took for JJ to punch Rafe square in the face. Rafe stumbled into Topper a bit before launching at JJ. The two broke into a brawl and all that could be heard were their grunts and you screaming for them to stop.

 The next thing you know Topper is pulling JJ off Rafe, and your father is pulling Rafe away. Once Rafe is pulled away you run up to JJ to make sure he is okay, but before you can your father grabs your arm. “I warned you about hanging out with this trash.” He spoke with a tight grip around you arm. You looked over at JJ who was crouched by his truck. “is that what you want? Do you want to be known as trash like these other kids? Do you what he does, what his father does? Do you?” He was shaking your arm and screaming at you. “Ouch dad, you’re hurting me.” You spoke over his yelling. JJ looked over at you, he saw you father shaking your body and he could see the fear in your eyes. “Just let me say goodbye to him, please.” You pleaded with your father, and he reluctantly let you.

 Once you got over to JJ you wrapped your arms around him trying to be careful of his already forming bruises. He wiped the tears off your face with the back of his thumb. “I’m sorry JJ, I should have never let any of this happen.” You whispered, and he cut you off with a quick kiss. “I’m fine princess, just go home with your dad, I don’t want you to get in any more trouble than you are. We’ll figure it out, I promise.” “No JJ, I don’t want to leave you.” “I’m fine, please you’re in enough trouble because of me in the first place.” You finally agreed to go after he promised to text you when he got back the Chateau.

 It had been almost a whole week since everything went down. You almost never talked to your father anymore, and you stayed clear of Rafe and his goon squad. You went down to that spot on the beach everyday, but JJ never showed. He hadn’t texted you that night when he got home even though you blew his phone up with texted and calls. It broke you to think that you might have lost the love of your life all together just because of your selfish father.

 Your parents had gone out for the afternoon and told you that the only person coming by should be the grocery boy. You protested not even wanting to answer the door. You wanted them to just have him leave them outside, but your parents didn’t want to food to spoil so you sat in your foyer staring at the wall waiting for him to come.

 When you finally heard the knock on the door you open it to find Pope Heyward, JJ’s best friend on the other side. “Hi Y/N, your parents want these groceries dropped off, where do you want them?” He asked with a smile on his face. You always liked Pope he was kind and had tutor you in Math freshman year. “Um, in the kitchen is fine.” You spoke and lead him to your kitchen. “I also have some mail.” He handed a letter to you that had your name on it with messy writing. You thanked him and gave him the tip your parents left for him. Going to sit back down in the living room you opened the letter. You quickly looked over it is seeing JJ’s signature at the end with a heart.

 Y/N,

 I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a few days but my phone broke that night so I couldn’t text you. I didn’t go to our spot because I didn’t want you to be upset when you saw me, I know how you always panic when I’m hurt 😉 I promise I’ll make it up to you. Meet me on the outskirts of town at dusk tomorrow night. ~ JJ <3

 I got tired of waiting Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around My faith in you was fading When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you, but you never come Is this in my head? I don't know what to think He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring And said, "Marry me, Juliet You'll never have to be alone I love you and that's all I really know I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes" Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh 'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

 You had dressed in a simple white romper with a cardigan considering it was a bit chilly out tonight. You also told your parent that you were staying at friends’ house so they wouldn’t come looking for you. You walked to the outskirts of the island and waited for JJ. You were giving up hope when you saw his truck pull up. He pulled up next to you and got out, and you ran to jump in his arms but suddenly stopped when you saw his face. It was all cut up and he had a nasty black eye. It didn’t take much for the tears to prick your eyes as your thumb smoothed over the freshly formed bruises. “It doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.” He whispered to you, catching a few stray tears with his thumb.

 “I’m so sorry J. I hate that he let them do this to you.” You said holding his face in your hands looking up at him. You could get lost in his beautiful blue eyes any day. They brought you such calm and love. JJ portrayed all his emotions in his eyes and that’s why you feel in love with them. “I tried talking to your dad, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” He said and you were shocked. No guy had ever done something like that for you. The only time a guy ever talked to your dad was for their own benefit much like Rafe did. “I don’t care what he thinks JJ. I want to be with you, and only you. You’ve made me the happiest person in the world.” You said to him, kissing him. “We’ll figure something out, you promised. I don’t care if we must keep sneaking around together. He’ll see it eventually.” You reasoned with him, the tears you were trying to hold freely falling now.

 JJ hated seeing you like this. He couldn’t tear you away from your family, but he also knew that he didn’t want to try and live another day without you. He didn’t know how it was going to work but he would do what ever it took. “the two of us can jump in this truck right now and go wherever we want to go.” You said to him. “We could go for the summer, it’ll be fine. I have so money saved and we can get jobs on the mainland. Somewhere away from the Outer Banks.” You proposed hoping he would take your bait.

  He thought about it for a minute. He did know some guys that were looking for help on the mainland with construction and maybe it would give your parents some time to adjust to things. “Okay, let’s go get your stuff.” The two of you went back to your house leaving a note explaining everything and bought the first tickets off the island never looking back. It really was a love story.

TAG LIST:

@taylathornton​ @lemur46​ @drewstarkeysbitchh​

[joyful-soul-collector]

🌷Irondad Fanfic Rec List🌷

World’s Best Babysitter by @jen27ny

Summary: “The second Tony sees that Morgan’s favorite stuffed elephant grew to the size of a real elephant, he vows to himself to never ever let Scott babysit again.”

Relationships/Tropes: Scott Lang & Peter Parker, Scott Lang & Morgan Stark, Scott Lang & Tony Stark, Irondad, Spider-Sized Peter Parker, Babysitting, Crackfic

Review: This was so hilarious man I love how Peter made himself a Lego spaceship to be shrunk in, that's such a Peter thing to do

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blood under my belt by pvrker

Summary: His sweatpants come off next, landing softly on the expensively tiled floor before he kicks them to the side. "What the fuck-"

It's a reasonable reaction, seeing the bright blotch of red inside the crotch of his pants. And Peter thinks, this can't be happening.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Ironmom, Trans Peter Parker, Coming Out

Review: This is so so sweet! I love the way this Peter's reaction was described, and the way Pepper treated him with such kind gentleness, and how sweet Tony was after he found out what was going on. Just too freaking sweet and nice

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Like A Bear by @an-odd-idea

Summary:

Whumptober 2020

Prompt 21: Hypothermia

Peter and Tony wake up sealed in a box, but it’s not just a box, and Peter’s not just a kid

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Kidnapped, Whumptober, Peter Parker Can’t Thermoregulate

Review: This story was great! The tension of Peter beginning to fall asleep and Tony panicking and doing his best to try and keep Peter warm was perfect, and I love how Rhodey was right there for Tony, waiting for him to wake up. So sweet <3

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A Shrunken Spider by @an-odd-idea

Summary:  A fight with a magic-wielding foe leaves Peter shrunken and vulnerable. Luckily, Tony is there to take care of him until the spell wears off.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Tiny Peter Parker

Review: This story was so cute! I love how Peter felt so safe in Tony's hand, as well as the part with the poptart haha. I think my favorite thing was that Tony kept holding Peter even as he was getting back to normal, it was so  s o f t

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When You Smile I Am Undone by @superherotiger

Summary:  HI! IF YOU'RE STILL DOING THE DRABBLES, COULD YOU DO ONE WITH A THEATER NERD PETER? PREFERABLY HAMILTON BUT IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE!!!!! THANK YOU!! :D

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Theatre Nerd Peter Parker, Hamilton

Review: AAAAAAAAA this story had so much emotion??? It was so cool to see Tony's reaction to certain parts of the musical in relation to Peter, especially the part where Philip died. I hadn't even thought of how Tony would react to that tbh, so it was almost a surprise, but it made perfect sense for Tony to react rather strongly to it compared to other parts. Loved this fic, 10/10

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Worst. Kidnappers. Ever. by @jen27ny

Summary: Not sure if this has been done before? But would you consider a prompt where Peter gets kidnapped but escapes easily, his kidnappers not even realizing that he's gone. So Peter gets home and is hanging out with Tony and then Tony gets a ransom call from the kidnappers but Tony just stares at Peter who just shrugs like its no big deal.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Kidnapping, (sort of), Crackfic

Review: HAHA this fic was hilarious, I loved Peter's complete nonchalance, and I love how Tony was still worried about him even though Peter was right there and perfectly fine lol

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That Would Be Enough by @superherotiger (Pt. 3 of Estranged Irondad AU, Pt. 1 & 2 linked ^^^)

Summary: Nicknames and Tony Stark seemed to come hand in hand.

With a single glance at someone he could conjure up a title that would brand them for years to come, much to the amusement and frustration of his close friends like Rhodey, Pepper and Happy. Sometimes the names were designed to annoy -the clench of Steve Roger’s jaw when he’d first called him Capsicle had been entertaining to say the least-, but most often they were affectionate. Playful. Reserved for those Tony cared for the most.

And his son Peter was no exception.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Estranged Irondad AU, Gunshot wound

Review: AAAAAAAA THIS FIC IS SO SWEET AND SAD AT THE SAME TIME. I love how you can see them slowly starting to get closer to each other, slowly building up a bond of trust and love, and it's just so wholesome and perfect <3

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I Hate You 3000 by @jen27ny 

Summary: I take need a fic where Peter playfully tells Tony that he hates him 3000. 😂😂😂😂😂 I'm begging you.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Adult Peter Parker, Crackfic

Review: oh my god this was hilarious. I love that Peter trains the new younger avengers now, that's so cute, and my favorite part was when he listed all the inconvenient things that should happen to Tony haha

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Cider by @tsuki-chibi (Pt. 3 of aro-ace dad and son, Pt. 18 of Aro-Ace Valentine fics)

Summary: Dating is a little more complicated when you're not interested in sex. Luckily, Peter has a great mentor.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, AroAce Peter Parker, AroAce Tony Stark

Review: You all know I'm always here for Ace Irondad and Spider-Son and this was absolutely PERFECT I love it! I know I worry about the same things Peter talks about in this fic, so it was really nice to see those two talking about that type of stuff :D

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When Your Colour Has Faded (We Will Paint It Back) by @littlemissagrafina (Pt. 3 of Discord Challenges)

Summary: "Peter, wha-" May started to ask before Peter cut her off, words suddenly spilling over where a moment ago there had been none.

"I don't have colour anymore. I'm dull, faded, and I don't know how to get myself back." Peter's voice was small, the almost numb resignation in it striking May and Tony to their cores. 

"I'm not who I used to be. I'm a broken pallet with dried up, cracking paint where I used to be bright, and colourful and I don't know what to do. I don't- I don't know how to get me back." The teenager's voice cracked on the last few words, desperation and despair shining in his eyes.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, SpiderAunt, Depressed Peter Parker

Review: This fic was really sad but really nice at the same time. I like that both Peter and his parental figures noticed that something was wrong, I feel like it's usually one or the other in most fics, and I like that Peter asked for help when it was starting to get too bad. We definitely need more stories about characters getting help for their depression instead of suffering through it :']

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Sleepy Crawler by @jen27ny 

Summary: Hi! Thank you so much for the prompt you wrote me! I loved it so much! I'm not sure if you are taking more or not but if you are, could you write one where Peter sleeps walking into Pepper and Tony's room, waking them both up! Fluff, cuddles, super sweet moment between the three of them? Thanks so much and you are an amazing writer! I always get a smile when I see you have written something x

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Ironmom, Peter Parker Sleepwalks

Review: This story was adorable! It's so cute how Peter subconsciously (or... unconsciously?) went to Tony and Pepper in his sleep when he was stressed out

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[tadpole-san]

are we still friends? ;  d.g. part two pairing: titans!dick grayson x reader, on-and-off relationship warnings: dick being his therapy-needing titans self, slight canon divergence from titans 1x06, and an ending that may or may not lead to a part two a/n: i will never let go of my personal dick grayson grudge, but this exists solely because i love @capricorn-stark

The last time you had seen Dick Grayson, he’d outfitted himself with packed belongings and a one-way ticket to Detroit, Michigan. Seeing him off at the airport would turn out to be the last time you saw him for a year - a fact you hadn’t picked up on at the time, but did, in fact, predict. To a degree.

“You could come visit,” he’d offered, just steps away from his gate. “You - well, you said you had plans to go to Chicago, right? The drive’s not too bad.” It was hard to say no.

Because this was Dick Grayson, and he had to be so earnest about everything he did. Even when it was asking you to come see him as he was moving hundreds of miles away from Gotham (hundreds of miles away from you, a part of your mind whispered, even as you reminded yourself that this didn’t have anything to do with you so much as it had to do with his fractured relationship with Bruce). Because he was trying to make things work.

“How are you able to be friends with your exes?” you’d asked, bemused and flabbergasted all at once. It wasn’t the first time. “I really try to hate you, you know.” That got him to laugh - which was nice. You felt as though you hadn’t really smiled in a long time.

“Maybe that’s my superpower.”

“Your superpower is super annoying,” you’d deadpanned, before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you around, Grayson.”

An empty promise neither of you acknowledged.

After that, it was all too easy to fall out of touch with Dick - one too many missed calls, excuses of taking more shifts at his police station when you were more than capable of keeping up with the news that spoke of a vigilant Robin without its bat, until eventually, total radio silence. And you were happy to leave it at that, knowing that whatever Dick was working through, he’d clearly rather do it on his own.

So when even the Robin sightings in Detroit stopped entirely, you didn’t push things. Maybe he’d finally done it: give up the costume for good, leave the life behind like he said he would do, but never actually committed to.

This was probably a sign. That you need to go see him, like you said you would do, but never committed to.

Which means that the last thing you expect, on your morning coffee run in Chicago, was to quite literally run into the man of the hour himself.

“Dick?” The word comes in a way that is akin to a strangled duck squawking.  You wonder if the man before you is real - if you’re not just imagining the figure that stands before you, cuts and bruises littering his face. As if he’s been in a fight.

With his track record, there probably was a fight. With him, there’s always the fight.

“Sup?” Dick’s not the one who answers you first. It’s the kid standing at his side, walking with a swagger that speaks volumes to the confidence of a kid who’s filling out the big boy shoes with his own ego. You try not to judge too much - there’s always a story behind a stance like his. “Jason Todd, at your service.”

A train passes on the overhead, the sound drawing you out of your thoughts. You realize his hand is still offered to you, and you shake it, still staring at Dick. He’s tense, shoulders drawn, hunched in on himself and bracing for a fight.

Something’s up. And with the Boy Wonder, it’s always something big, and possibly earth-shattering. Inwardly, you sigh. On the outside, you smile wryly and introduce yourself to Jason.

“You probably know who I am,” you say, letting go of Jason’s hand and stepping back. Your grip on your bag tightens. “Dick’s a big storyteller, once you get him going.” Dick verbally steps in before Jason can say anything to either confirm or deny your words.

“I could use your help.”

He doesn’t say we.

“I can see that,” you deadpan, motioning to his face. Your hand stops shy of actually touching the bruise blossoming against tanned skin. “A personal favor, then?” He turns his head away from you, and you spot the (quite frankly) atrocious brown car parked on the curb.

“That’s my ride.” He’s defensive, and you get the feeling that it isn’t about the car. You raise your hand in surrender, but he doesn’t relax - in a way, it’s nice to know that you’re probably not the reason he looks ready to pull a Flash and run as soon as the chance to do so opened up for him.

“You’re parked in front of my ride,” you reply, reaching into your bag and pulling the keys out. You let them twirl around your finger as you turn and walk towards your car, looking over your shoulder at him. “Am I going to need to make a stop at home to get the old suit out?” Somehow, that actually brings a smile to Dick’s face, and he ducks his head slightly as he chuckles.

“I just need you,” he calls out, finally pulling a hand out of his pockets and raising it in your direction to let you see the phone in his palm that’s open to your texts with him. There’s a new one that is likely the address of whatever safehouse he was holed up in.

You try not to linger on his words for too long.

“They’re hot,” you hear Jason say. It’s followed immediately by a yelp - presumably from Dick either elbowing him or punching his arm - and a “you’re way too young for that.” Despite yourself, you grin.

You’d missed him. Even if you weren’t going to admit it to his face.

When you finally make it to the address Dick sends you, he’s not even the one who lets you pass Bruce’s more-than-extensive security system. It’s Jason who does that.

Instead, you find Dick bent over the bathroom sink, the blade of a scalpel pressed to the skin of his arm. There’s also an unconscious body cuffed to the shower behind him, but you compartmentalize that for later.

“Are you okay?” At the sound of your voice, DIck freezes - like a deer caught in headlights - and looks up at you. You can see him visibly relax as he lets out a sigh that works to relieve some of the tension wound up in his body. You raise an eyebrow, and walk over to him.

“It’s not what you think,” he tells you, then uses the scalpel to motion towards the device discarded on the white porcelain. You pick it up, turning it over in your hands. “Bruce planted a tracker, in me, and I’m trying to-”

“Cut him out?” you finish, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Cut it out,” he corrects.

“I know what I said.” You watch through the mirror’s reflection as he finally makes the incision, thick red blood pouring down his arm and dripping into the sink. You’re already opening the cabinet to find gauze to wrap his arm with. “Let me see that-” The ringtone coming from the phone between you two cuts you off. You look at him. And then you look down at the screen. The name Kori flashes across it.

“New girlfriend?” you dare to ask, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Dick purses his lips, swiping a bloody thumb over the screen to deny the call before he’s reaching for the tweezers.

“No,” He grits his teeth, maneuvering the metal tweezers in the wound he made. “We just met,” Dick adds, meeting your eyes again. For his sake, you offer a tentative smile. He sighs, and finally retracts a tracker that resembles a battery watch. It falls into your open hand. You’re glad for the distraction, because - shit.

Those eyes.

Dick possesses what you swear is the most beautiful shade of eyes you’ve ever seen, and he models them beautifully. Those baby blues were always going to be your downfall, and seeing them had been enough for you to call in a precious sick day at work so you could help him out on whatever case brings him to Chicago. They’re the reason you have a case in your car trunk containing a suit you swore to leave in the closet.

They make you realize you can be so weak.

“I’m not dating right now,” Dick continues, filling in the space of your prolonged silence. He doesn’t take the gauze from your hand - even though he could - and instead, holds his arm out towards you so you can wrap it yourself. “Actually, I haven’t really seen anyone since I was with you.”

“I think that says less about what our relationship was, and more about you going full lone-wolf.” You hesitate to finish, and you keep a loose grip on his arm. His skin is warm. “The more you try to be the anti-Bruce, the more you’re becoming like him. You know that, right?” He’s not looking you in the eye anymore. Anger isn’t what drives him to do that, you think - it’s more like a combination of guilt, of the expression of a kid who thinks he’s a disappointment to the people leaning on him. People shouldn’t lean on a kid.

“I’m working on it.”

“I know.” Finally, you set the roll of gauze aside and release his arm. It allows you to take the chance to reach for him and make him look at you again. “And thank you,” you add. “For coming to see me.” He manages another smile, reaching up to cover your hand in his. You know what he would do if you were still dating. He would’ve pressed a kiss to your hand, and he would laugh it off, probably with some sort of cheeky quip. A I knew you missed me too much or I’d come by to see you any day.

You’re not dating anymore. And it’s confusing as hell, because sometimes it feels like you still are. On the rare days that he still calls you for no reason to tell you about a case from work he’s stuck on, or to remind you that you made a promise to see him, pairing it with a good tease about how seeing him in the new uniform would probably be too much for you. On those nights, Robin isn’t flying solo on the streets of Detroit.

“The lead brought me to Chicago,” he explains, tilting his head in the direction of the man lying in the shower.

“Is it a work case?”

“Not exactly. It’s-” you anticipate the familiar complicated. The word doesn’t come. “There’s a lot I need to update you on,” he settles on saying instead, running stained hands under the sink. “And if it’s Chicago, you’re going to be my number one. Right?”

“Right,” you agree, traces of amusement seeping into your tone as you cross your arms. “I called in sick at work,” you add. “Am I going to need to make up an excuse for the rest of the week?” The question, lighthearted as it’s supposed to be, holds weight to it that neither of you acknowledge.

“I’m probably going to be out of the state in a couple of days,” Dick says instead of answering, drying his hands off with a towel. He lets it drop in the sink, walking back out in the hallway with you. “You don’t need to - it’s a lot. And there’s these guys I’m kind of traveling with-”

“Dick.”

When he faces you, it’s your turn to shove hands in your pockets to avoid wringing them out in front of him. You take a deep breath, leaning back on your heels to look at him. “You didn’t need to find me,” you tell him. “That Jason kid? He wouldn’t be sticking around if he couldn’t be decent backup for this.”

“Are you detective-ing me out right now?” Dick’s actually trying not to laugh. You’re not sure if you should hit him or not.

“That’s not a word!”

“You know what I mean! And yes! I’m trying to figure out what’s going on with you!” By now, he’s actually laughing - and even if a part of you is annoyed, sure, there’s more of you that just feels relief. Because you can’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that, either, and it gives you a bit of hope.

Hope that the parts of him you fell in love with aren’t as lost as you thought.

“There’s a lot,” he admits, shifting his weight and trying to step back so he isn’t crowding you in the hall. “I know - the Bruce thing, you’re sick of that bullshit. I got a lot going on.” His phone starts up again, and this time, he pulls it out. The fluorescent light washes out his skin, but you can see his expression sober up. “I need to take this.” The traces of laughter in his voice are gone, and it feels like he’s slipping away again. There’s frustration that must show on your face, because he reaches out to you and moves a stray lock of hair out of your eyes in a silent apology.

“Go.” You manage not to sound as bitter as you feel - and with him, it’s not a bitterness that’s always there, but it inevitably creeps up on you. The same way the shadow of a bat hangs over him. Dick nods, and you start to walk away when he grabs your wrist again.

“You aren’t my backup for this,” he says firmly, and you know you’re fucked. Because he’s looking at you with those eyes, and it’s like you’re in that airport with him all over again, with nothing but empty promises and a broken relationship the two of you are hanging onto by a thread. “You’re-” he falters. He hesitates, and you’re ready to watch Dick Grayson walk away from you again.

“You’re everything.”

DC Taglist:

@cipheress-to-k-pop

[aelaer]

Hi friend! You seem vast in your knowledge of Stephen and willing to share so please enlighten me as I don’t read the comics but I do watch the mcu movies, and do love Stephen.

I know he’s erratic and impulsive and reckless sometimes but didnt we already complete this arc in his first movie? Especially since we’ve watched him deal with the consequences of his actions for the entirety of the film and end of the movie Stephen was a different Stephen from the beginning of the movie.

IW Stephen seemed like a more mature version of the man we’ve met at the end of his first movie, a linear progression of the character, more responsible.

The spider man trailer is just a few minutes so I’ll further reserve judgment till I see the film, but he seems.. silly almost? I’m aware he has his funny moments but I’m just nervous they’re gonna make him the joke instead of having him make the jokes.

Do you notice anything weird about how the adults act in these newer marvel projects.? (I’m thinking of loki specifically) they all have a silly undertone to them? I cant put my finger on it but it’s definitely new and ..off

Is this a constant characterization for Stephen in the comics? Is this what he’s like all the time?

Regardless, thank you for your time if you see this xx

Oh yeah, Stephen's my favorite subject at the moment so I'm happy to give my thoughts!

Note that my answers apply to MCU!Stephen and what we've seen in the four films he's been in.

I know he’s erratic and impulsive and reckless sometimes but didnt we already complete this arc in his first movie? Especially since we’ve watched him deal with the consequences of his actions for the entirety of the film and end of the movie Stephen was a different Stephen from the beginning of the movie.

In my experience of just living, there are personality quirks that can be tempered out and made better, but not entirely eliminated, even if it's undesirable. In my opinion, Stephen's need to push himself and prove that he can Do A Thing is a trait that won't ever go away--especially as that trait has helped him more than hindered him. Examples would include the more mundane such as getting through a combined MD/PhD program and inventing surgical procedures at what is still a really young age for a neurosurgeon. We don't have a canonical age for Stephen, but Benedict was 40 when Doctor Strange was filmed and released; even if he's canonically in his mid-40s, that's still very young for him to be at his caliber after the necessary years of med school and residency in the United States. He's young and nowhere near the end of his career when he gets in the car crash. So with that information in mind, we know that he's very ambitious and throws himself into doing difficult work with gusto. That doesn't even go into everything he did as a sorcerer.

Why get into all of this? Because while we, the viewer who has seen the multiverse open at... some point (possibly, in a rewritten timeline, it's always been open now with what happened in Loki!), we have seen just how nuts it gets. We have seen the consequences. Stephen's smart, but I don't think it's a matter of strictly recklessness and more a combination of ignorance on this specific subject (erasing memories across the world or slightly rewriting time-- we don't know how he's doing it, but a memory spell makes more sense to me), hubris (of course), and the real desire to help Peter out. The latter two traits combined in intelligent people have proven bad in both fiction and reality.

The reason I don't think it's pure impulsiveness is because in the trailer, we see Stephen doing some meditation type thing in the underground area before the spell. He's also always doing research and as he tells Peter he'll help him, he clearly knows of a spell already and has some working knowledge of how it works. The conversation with Wong wouldn't have happened otherwise. But I personally get the vibe off him that he'd not do it without being very confident that he can do it -- and his history in the films has shown 0 failures in any of his spells once he's past novice-level, so in that aspect, his confidence makes sense. If he *should* do the spell due to the risks of failure, and lack of practicing precaution in the face of his confidence, is where his flaws lie, IMO. And in that sense people could say he was reckless for deciding to perform a complicated, dangerous spell, but that follows his M.O. completely -- he performed a very complicated, dangerous spell consistently with the Time Stone again and again, from how the sorcerers spoke about the Infinity Stone (and he casually just... throws himself into a time loop, then to look through time. He takes calculated risks, but they are very much risks).

One last thought on this statement - the biggest, biggest lesson that Stephen learned in his first film was that it was not about him. There was more to the world than his glory and his brilliance and even his happiness. He started doing things for the greater good rather than himself. And he started doing things for others -- fighting for the Sanctum in his own film, and protecting the Earth. Serving something greater than himself. But that doesn't make him suddenly humble, and it doesn't suddenly take away his strange (hah) sense of humor.

IW Stephen seemed like a more mature version of the man we’ve met at the end of his first movie, a linear progression of the character, more responsible.

He was more serious in that film. So was Tony. They still had some quips and arguments, but they were very serious. And it makes sense as to why -- it was the end of the world. So the mood of the setting would change anyone's demeanour. But he had very little chance to unwind in that film, considering that he was trying to protect one of six items that would destroy the universe, and also got freaking tortured in the middle of the film with little time to recover. But nearly every Avenger was super serious in that film, and for good reason.

It's a completely different setting from what is now Stephen's life which, from what little we've seen in the trailer, is weird enough that he got a magical snowstorm in the Sanctum. It's safe enough that Wong's off on vacation. It's been nearly a year since he returned from the dead. He's either figured out how to move on in the last year or, as some prefer, has gotten good enough to put on a facade and bury the trauma so far down that he's putting on a normal act - but that's up to debate until MoM. And we have no idea if old traumas are going to be brought up there or if it's just the new things.

I think the point is that it's possible to be both a responsible person and also to make colossal mistakes due to either emotional connections or hubris (or both - we don't know which way the film will go, if they'll explain it at all). They're not mutually exclusive. He can be protecting reality fantastically, while also believing that he's skilled enough to pull off the ability to pull off a dangerous spell which he did in his own film and in IW. He's guided the timeline down a specific path in IW/Endgame, after all - what's a little identity item compared to the fate of the universe, after all? Removing the Spider-Man/Peter association is, in comparison, child's play I imagine to a man like Stephen.

The spider man trailer is just a few minutes so I’ll further reserve judgment till I see the film, but he seems.. silly almost? I’m aware he has his funny moments but I’m just nervous they’re gonna make him the joke instead of having him make the jokes.

Do you notice anything weird about how the adults act in these newer marvel projects.? (I’m thinking of loki specifically) they all have a silly undertone to them? I cant put my finger on it but it’s definitely new and ..off

He was definitely silly in his own film. He was constantly trying to get Wong to laugh and there was a banter between Stephen and Christine after he gets stabbed. He's always been a bit awkward and a bit jokey--I think Thor showed that combination of humorous snark and good research rather well, though he was flippant in a way that didn't get to show his kinder side that is better established in his film. And now we get to see that sympathy in his agreement to help Peter (at least, in my opinion).

Because he was doing an amazing awesome spell not once, not twice, but *three* times in the trailer alone, I am not worried about Stephen just being a joke. He seems just as powerful as he was in IW and Endgame. The rest of the world is just getting reminded that he's definitely a bit of a socially awkward duck at times (or, if you prefer, Putting On a "I'm Fine" Front And It's Coming Across As Weird). So him being a big joke is not something I am personally worried about.

Situational humor has been a staple of Marvel films since Iron Man. I watched the films casually before 2016 when I fell head deep into Stephen Strange (or well, 2018/9 is more accurate as that's when I *really* went nuts), and my viewings before that time and after that time was a lot more analytical. And it's very easy to see where the silliness started, all the way back when Tony crashed into his own car and Dum-E sprayed him with a fire extinguisher. Thor was the butt of the joke in the "fish out of water" scene in a good, good chunk of the film. Even Captain America had some situational humor. And remember that Guardians of the Galaxy was back in 2014, which was halfway through the MCU's time thus far. The stars of these films are almost always the butt of some joke a couple times and do things that could be viewed as childish.

I don't know your age at all, but if you were born after 1990, what might be happening, rather, is that they are not getting sillier, but that you may be getting older. I was an adult (legally, at least) in 2008, but the way I view the adults of the films throughout the early 2010s as compared to now is night and day. It's just come with my own life experience, and wider understanding to media tropes. The jump is even more significant if you were younger in Iron Man/Avengers days and are an adult now. If you're an older adult than me, then I'd argue it's the matter of life experience adding to your overall knowledge of media plus, potentially, rose-tinted glasses giving you a better vision of the older movies while forgetting that the older movies had plenty of their own flaws (and silliness). Could be a lot of things- it's too individual to really say why your perspective has changed. But I don't think the MCU's largely changed their comedy formula since 2012/2013.

Is this a constant characterization for Stephen in the comics? Is this what he’s like all the time?

Oh the comics are a mess of characterizations. It's very difficult to find full consistency across writers, and some writers did him much better than others. At the moment, Jason Aaron's 2015 run is viewed as very good by a large amount of fans, while Waid's 2018 run is viewed with mixed reviews. It's largely a matter of preference as you'll see traits that are just so uncharacteristic in an arc and then it never happens again. He takes on secret identities, he kills billions to save trillions (along with the other Avengers!), he sells his soul, he's in a steady relationship for 30 years, then he's sleeping with a new woman every arc he co-stars in-- it's just so dependent on the writer over the decades. What Marvel thinks will sell. Right now Marvel thinks his death is gonna sell issues, so yeah :P You pick and choose with the comics and build a personality from there.

Thank you for the thoughtful ask. I hope this wasn't too much of a drag to read through; I get rambly on my favorite subjects. Or anything, really.

[bookwyrminspiration]

is it still council-hating hours? even if not, this is something that's been bothering me for....so long. and i am going to explode if i don't say it right now. (In fact i actually have a doc titled "council incompetence rant" that is. getting a little long.)

One of the things that annoys me the most in Keeper is how utterly incompetent the Council is. They are shit at their jobs! They don't make sense! And that would be fine if that was something that was explored and talked about in the story, but it's not?

Like, sure, it's brushed on a little, but Keeper never goes in-depth in order to explain just how flawed and corrupt the system is! We have no idea how far the rot goes because we haven't been given a chance to see how far it goes, and despite the earlier books being really great setup for all kinds of plots and discussions surrounding the Council, it feels like Messenger is completely dropping that in favor of..."Neverseen Bad, Council + Black Swan Good". Which I call fucking bullshit on, by the way, because this series has gone to pretty decent lengths before to show that it's not the case! So WHY are we getting to that now?

Well, I think all of this is the symptom of a bigger problem.

Note: I don't want to be mean, and please tell me if I'm being too critical here, but this series has some serious problems actually delivering on what it's saying.

Like, it's trying to tell us that Sophie shouldn't be doing all this because she's a kid, but then it treats her very own existence as a project as background information when that should absolutely be at the forefront (like it was in earlier books)!

It's trying to tell us that discrimination against the Talentless is bad, but then every single member of it's cast has an ability, has a strong ability, and regularly uses their ability! Even Dex, who could have easily been talentless and good with tech, gets to be a Super Good Gadget Person thanks to his ability as opposed to his own creativity and ingenuity.

It's trying to tell us that maybe banishing children is bad, but also tells us that Exillium is now """fixed""" because Oralie gave them...better tents? Food? And never touches on the fact that children are still. getting. banished. It doesn't explore Tam's anger in detail, Linh is only there to be the token asian girl, it does nothing to fully dispel any thought of the Council being alright.

And it's trying to tell us that the Council fucks up, it's showing us that Councillors have no problem being incredibly selfish and violent and so many other terrible things, but that never changes. Nothing in Keeper is changing. It is only maintaining the status quo!

I'm confused as to what Messenger is trying to tell her readers! Are the Council good or bad? Is working with the Council good or bad? Are the Black Swan and Neverseen actually morally grey? Should I be angry at what's happening in these books? Am I meant to look at all the rot and shrug because "that's just how it is"?

And like...I wouldn't be mad if Keeper was just...bad! I mean, I would, but I wouldn't be as distraught! What really grinds my gears is that Keeper has the chance to be good. It has the chance to do great things - and at times it absolutely does! - but it keeps reinforcing belief in a deeply flawed and broken system that is regularly hurting people. And those examples were just off the top of my head!

And again, if this was explored within the series, that would be amazing, but the problem is that it's...not. And that's just...a real fuckin' shame, honestly.

- pyro

(sorry if this was like...too angry? i started and then kinda just...couldn't stop. i should probably get a hobby that's not tearing a middle grade series apart. oops.)

it may have been over a week since you sent this (thank you for being patient with me!!), but fuck yes it is still council hating hours. it is always council hating hours in this household that is not actually a house. (also that incompetence rant sounds intriguing)

yes! you are right! they are so bad at what they're supposed to be doing it's like they're just figures for people to look to and say "yea they'll take care of it" to keep everyone else from acting out! but it's really interesting to see a government so awful and incompetent be such an integral and influential part of the story...without acknowledging that they're actually really bad? I know in Unlocked there's a line where Shannon says something like "Sophie had to figure out who the bad guys were: the black swan? the council? someone else entirely?" but then it's never touched on again that I can remember. Thinking through the series, I honestly can't think of a situation that the council, of their own volition, saw was an issue and corrected in a way that was beneficial to those who needed it. Like yea, Oralie gave money to Exillium, but that was after Sophie chewed her out about it. I think i've said it before but in case not: it feels like they've taken the "for the good of the many over the good of the few" ideology too far in a society that doesn't work for. If someone threatens the majority (and often that's just in appearance only) they get rid of them to preserve the image of the rest. It doesn't care about their people, it cares about the majority of people feeling undisturbed.

considering Sophie is part of a huge organization created literally because their society, led by that system, isn't working for a lot of people, they (the Black Swan) sure do go along with the council a whole lot. I think one of the linked posts in one of my masterposts is specifically about how making the Black Swan work so closely with the council screwed them over and completely undermined everything they were working towards. I'm going to make a very vague comparison here, but the Black Swan feel like "we need to fix the system" while the Neverseen are "the system is broken lets start over" (except the Neverseen added a lot more violence into the mix). It's absolutely infuriating to have them working side by side: one, because the Black Swan aren't accomplishing any of their goals and should cut their losses and go back to being mysterious underground groups with more freedom to move (in my opinion), but two, because it makes the council seem like it's trying to fix things when really it feels like a publicity thing to make the public think they're addressing the rebel issue while they're really just showing up in places and causing problems. And!! that's another thing! it feels like their collaboration with the Black Swan is to address the problem of having rebels, not the problems these rebels have identified and are trying to fix. Unfortunately, it seems the council is getting their way more than the Black Swan, getting them to act more legally and work closer with less room for working outside the system. if that makes sense.

considering it's literally stated in unlocked that there is no "good" and "bad," there does seem to be a lot of focus on associating the Black Swan with being Right, and the Neverseen with being Wrong. I can hope that it's the outward reactions to the Black Swan realizing they've done some fucked up stuff (Sophie) and are now overcompensating and trying to make sure their every move is the correct one. But I do think it will be interesting to see if Sophie makes the connection in canon (as she's already started to) that there isn't always a right option, there's just the best you can do with a situation and the Black Swan's insistence that she was "in the wrong" (a summary) helps her realize her own values and think through their decisions with her own perspective instead of just trusting them

response to your note: you're fine! you bring up a good point that this book sounds like it wanted to be a unique perspective (by having the "good guys" also be questionable and give the "bad guys" reasonable motives) but the execution misses the mark for a lot of us. so you're qualms and observations are entirely valid and I don't think you're being mean at all! I think you're expressing a frustration you have with something, which I support and encourage.

at times it feels like Shannon bit off more than she could chew in terms of all the complicated things she could get into when it comes to this series. not saying she's doing a bad job or a horrible author or anything, just that there are some things she introduced that kind of get left behind or unexplored because there's so much else going on. I think we can see that in the whole being experiment part of Sophie life. we saw sophie was uncomfortable with it in the first few books and would sometimes bring it up, but I personally would've been more satisfied if she'd either taken the time to process it (opposed to her think about that later strategy) or come to the realization that no, she isn't okay with it and she deserves to have her thoughts on the matter heard. she was literally created to serve someone elses purpose, and brought into the fight too early at that. and yet it's treated like an "oopsie, guess we just gotta go with it" thing, like this minor part of her story when I bet her thinking about it for more than a minute at a time would absolutely wreck her. but I'm getting caught up in this, so moving on!

I think we can see it in the talentless too, as it's treated like a "that doesn't affect me" thing for Sophie. because she doesn't have any friends that are talentless right now--the closest she's got is Marella, who I think is still legally considered talentless with her pyrokinesis. it's been acknowledged that she doesn't think the way talentless are treated is right, but it doesn't impact her right now so she's not really doing anything about it. maybe if this was brought back later with someone like Jensi, then that would be a satisfying conclusion to this issue (not a conclusion, but it wouldn't be left hanging, if that makes sense). And I can understand the benefit of leaving things open to go back and explore later from a writers perspective, but at a certain point it becomes more of a hindrance to the story than anything else.

and exillium! I have so many thoughts on Exillium that I actually started talking about it earlier in this post. They're not doing anything unless prompted and what they do is the bare minimum. With the tents and the food, they aren't fixing Exillium, they're making it into what it should've been at the very least were they going to actually go down that route. So I can't praise them for it when it's just basic decency to provide literal children with food and shelter when you force them to be somewhere they don't want to. But all this doesn't fix Exillium, because the problem is that it exists in the first place. The problem is that the council saw children who were struggling, and decided the best thing to do with them was to just get them out of the way for everyone else. Three coaches total for leadership? yeah, there's no way that place was ever supposed to be "alternate learning" or however Oralie phrased it, that was just so you could say you hadn't completely abandoned them in the middle of nowhere.

you're so right about the council fucks up bit--I think the most obvious example of this is with Sophie's ability restrictor. Yea, she's not wearing it anymore, but that's not because the council changed their minds. It's because she broke the law and the didn't punish her for it. this is a great example of how things keep trying to move forward, but the council isn't doing anything to stay up with it. "they are selfish and violent[...] but that never changes." yes!! this!! you put it so well! the council is still the same old council that we saw in book one, concerned with their own interests and their own views, just trying to mitigate the damage Sophie and her friends are capable of doing to their system. Note: the fact that a handful of teenagers who haven't even graduated can do this much damage might be telling of the structural integrity of their system. Bronte and Terik did a little flip, and Alina replaced the Now Crispy Kenric, but aside from that nothing has changed.

I will say, I personally don't want it to be clear who the good guys and bad guys are. (not saying that's what you're asking for! just piggybacking off your comment on the confusion). I'm glad that the characters make me think and I'm grateful there isn't just the "we're good and they're bad" element you see in other stories. not that that's bad, i just think realistically they'd be more complex and their simplicity grows repetitive after a while. But like I said, at times it feels like there's too much going on for there to be a clear message, which in and of itself could be the message. i could be seeing something where there's nothing, though. I think part of it might be Shannon trying to take on all these complex narratives and perspectives with a limited perspective (as in she only has Sophie to tell the story through), while also needing to make it enjoyable and palletable to a young audience.

and I agree with you! I think it's a lot of the potential we see not being used that makes us so infuriated (or me at least). Because there are some stories yo uread where you're like "ah. it's just one of those stories. cool." and you move past it. Because you know it's going to have a set perspective and you know it's going to accomplish what it wants, but Keeper seems to have so many possibilities and Shannon's getting stuck in this rut of good and bad after so long. maybe we'll get out of it in the next book with sophie thinking the Black Swan was in the wrong, but I also wouldn't be surprised if that Didn't Happen.

it's just like what i was saying about Ro! There's all these opportunities for these characters and this world to be really explored and fleshed out and complex, but we've gotten stuck in this romance drama and loosing fights again and again with little progress. All their actions are undoing the Neverseen's actions and counting it a victory because no one is dead. I just think there could be so much more that we're not getting because the story tried to go too broad when it wasn't ready for it.

this response got very long but in essence: I agree with your assessment of the story. is frustrating to see so many of the details and paths we'd like to see explored that often aren't in fiction just pass us by.

there is a special place for keeper in my heart and I will always appreciate it for that, but I also mourn what it could've been.

(also: you are not too angry! you have genuine thoughts about this series and they deserve to be heard! we are allowed to have complaints, even about the things we like. we don't have to appreciate every single aspect and we're allowed to be mad at the things we don't like.)

[smolbeandrabbles]

Grace, Too - Director Orson Krennic x Reader (Rogue One)

🎉🎉 !!Fic Number 200!! 🎉🎉

Hollllly crap we made it. We MADE it. And as he was fic number 100, 200 had to be Krennic. HAD to be.

@wltz-bby​ @mandy23b​ @happyskywhale​ @missunsympathetic​

Author’s Note:  Good god. Oh... This SONG has a lot to answer for. 

So, I was introduced to these ‘Courtly Love’ ideas, and I thought they sounded like a lot of fun, so I have a few requests based around these based on conversations. This was the first one I attempted and uh, yeah we ended up with this glorious wordcount.

Also, for my dear requestor and also dear friend @sagitariusrising​ Happy (Belated) Birthday! 😘💜💙 I hope this fic is everything you wanted!

Grace, Too - The Tragically Hip

Disclaimer: Premise/Idea not mine - although I did make some executive decision changes that I hope you still like / Rogue One characters not mine / some small Catalyst references.

Prompt: “A true lover is constantly and without intermission possessed by the thought of his beloved”

Premise: Orson Krennic has himself an obsession. You remind him too much of someone he once knew. Orson Krennic is dangerous. This much you know, but you are not about to heed your own warnings....

Words: 17,100

Warnings: Swearing / Possessiveness/Obsession/Yearning / Smut - like Sinday/Sunday smut. 

_____

He said, I'm fabulously rich C'mon, just let's go She kinda bit her lip Geez, I don't know I come from downtown Born ready for you Armed with will and determination And grace, too The secret rules of engagement Are hard to endorse When the appearance of conflict Meets the appearance of force But I can guarantee  There'll be no knock on the door I'm total pro here That's what I'm here for I come from downtown Born ready for you Armed with skill and its frustration And grace, too

---

He had to admit Eadu was not his favourite planet in the galaxy. Susceptible to many a storm, Krennic had never known it not to be pouring whenever he arrived. He probably wouldn’t even have thought about travelling over at all, were his old friend Galen Erso not stationed there. True, it was an integral facility to the Death Star, but Krennic didn’t need to be here to survey operations, just receive the odd mail or two with updates. Krennic would much rather be at the heart of the weapon his was engineering; it was his project and his baby. But, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see Galen, and this was fairly important. He grimaced as he looked out at the rain again, hopefully this wouldn’t take too long either… *** You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the constant rainy patterns of weather here. No-one had ever really given you the uniform for it – having said that, how often did you really spend outside these days? A lot of your time was spent in labs pouring over facts and figures and complicated algorithms. You spent almost as much time in the labs as Galen did, which was certainly personal choice rather than because you were forced into long hours. You had two specialities: lasers and gem stones; you’d heard about the development of synthetic Kyber crystals and Galen’s work before, but you’d never beheld a real one until coming here. With the amount of effort you were putting in, you were starting to become a technical expert. (Also a little disappointed to say the least when you found out that synthetic Kyber hadn’t really worked as expected.) Still, when you and Galen weren’t working on your pet energy project – allegedly what this had been for in the first place, until the real reason for Kyber research came to the fore – you were working on the Death Star. Which was some glorified super laser, that needed Kyber to work and… well, precision focus, as any good laser should have. Kyber wasn’t only going to be used as a power source, but also to make sure that this laser had range and trajectory… and didn’t waver off that. Besides, looking at the design, although it would collectively become one laser, it started at multiple points across the span of the dish. If just one of those was wrong, would the laser even fire at all? So standing outside on the landing platform, having been summoned out here because apparently the Director of the whole project would be arriving, in the cold and wet was not your ideal start to the day. Especially as you’d been standing here for what felt like close to an hour. Where the heck was this guy? You’d heard a lot about Orson Krennic before now; not all of it was great, some of it was hearsay, but there was a lot of information you found interesting to say the least. He’d been working on this project (with or without Galen) for most of his adult life, so it didn’t surprise you that he’d be coming all the way out here for an update. You had only ever had the pleasure of being copied on emails to Krennic and the way he responded sometimes was downright scary. You were glad you’d never had to give him bad news… but with your project being what it was, it wouldn’t be long before you did have to face the wrath of his block capitals. Finally the sound of a cruiser cut through the air, by the distinctive sound it was a Delta-class T-3c. Yeah, you had a slight passion for ships too. You all stood to attention on the platform, fighting off the shivers from the wind chill, squinting for visibility through the sheet rain and trying not to get blown over either. When the door to the shuttle opened Galen stepped forward, to welcome your visitor. He was possibly around Galen’s age, and held a confidence and self-importance about him as he strode forward down the ramp. But he had grace, too. You were almost taken aback by the way Krennic smiled as he shook Galen’s hand firmly, conversation fairly urgent. You couldn’t even lip read them from here, but body language was easy to interpret and it didn’t take long for Krennic to have your boss on the back foot. But it wasn’t panic, only surprise. Galen beckoned the Director towards the facility but Krennic shook his head. This visit was clearly only to be brief; you weren’t about to have your first interaction with him after all; he wasn’t about to view your work, inspect it closely and criticize it. Maybe you were glad of that. The conversation wasn’t as fleeting as you thought, a lot of back and forth that had the rest of you shooting each other looks and wondering how much longer you had to stand to attention in the freezing weather. Eventually Galen gestured to all of you – you supposed he was saying ‘if you can’t come in, or stay very long, at least meet my team.’ Krennic seemed to consider this for a time, his eyes sweeping the line and freezing on you. Your breath caught for a moment – maybe it was just your imagination, but his gaze was certainly lingering on you, and those bright blue eyes of his were nothing short of captivating. You didn’t think you’d seen a blue like it anywhere in the galaxy. It felt like hours but it could only have been seconds before he turned back to Galen, they exchanged a few words briefly once more before Galen nodded and they shook hands again. Oh, he really was just going to leave? The Director walked brisky back towards his shuttle before turning and calling back something else that he’d clearly forgotten. Galen yelled something in response and Krennic half smiled, before his eyes flicked over Galen’s shoulder and returned to you. Yes. You were right, he was certainly focused on you. There was a rumble of thunder overhead and the lightning cracked across the sky. You had never minded the lightning; you found the colours and patterns fascinating. But those blue eyes were immediately illumined by the bright white flashes and you found yourself swallowing hard, you couldn’t place the look on his face but you weren’t sure it was so appropriate. That image was sure to haunt you. Krennic turned back, slower this time, and you found that you’d been holding your breath for quite some time.

Suddenly you didn’t think that you would mind receiving an email in block capitals from him at all. *** Galen was probably the least subtle he could possibly be when he was trying to be subtle. He’d been tiptoeing around something with you for a couple of days and it really was starting to annoy you. You slammed your stylus down on the table with a frustrated sigh and turned to him. “Galen, please, whatever it is… just tell me. You’re making me nervous!” He blinked a few times, taken aback by your tone – as if he hadn’t been making it very obvious. “I- I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” You laughed, “Now I certainly will! What’s going on?” “…It’s not my idea, but it is my decision.” “What is?” You suddenly became scared yourself, “Are you firing me-!?” Galen’s eyes widened and he held his hands up, “What? NO, no… quite the opposite. I am…” He paused and thought to rephrase his question, “They need a crystallographer on the Death Star. A good one. Someone who can keep up with the team here. One who knows what she’s talking about.” You blinked a few times, before you understood, “You’re… sending me to the Death Star?” “Yes. B- but only if you want to go!” Wouldn’t that place you directly under Krennic’s authority? Why was it suddenly an exciting prospect? “I would be honoured. This is- your decision?” “They asked me for recommendations and there was only ever one choice.” That had you beaming, “Thank you for the opportunity, Galen.” “Well, I know you won’t let the facility down. And you’re always welcome back.” You chewed your lip thoughtfully for a second, and couldn’t help but ask: “What is he really like?” “Who?” “The Director.” Galen didn’t really answer the question, although a smile twitched on his face, “We met in the Futures Program. I’ve known him a very long time… I can’t say he’s ever changed.” “So he’s an adult teenage boy?” Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but Galen laughed. “Well, he has qualities that you’d be forgiven for thinking he was one.” “Huh.” You nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.” “But he is brilliant, of that there is no doubt. The Death Star project may have been going a long time, but I doubt anyone else could have completed it the way he has. Sharp. Intelligent. You’ll like him, I think.” You wondered if you already did. “Well, we’ll see if I’m begging to come back any time soon-!” He chuckled gently, “Well, I certainly hope not.” It didn’t take you very long to pack up, you were practically living out of boxes as it was. And you weren’t sure if you were nervous about having to move or not. You supposed you were in two minds; you’d actually get to see and be on the Death Star while you worked – sure the plans were one thing but, once you got a feel for the actual structure, maybe you could even be a little more experimental… The advantage of being on Eadu was you could hide away in a lab and make the 10,000 mistakes to get to the one (usually accidental) breakthrough. You were the only one judging yourself here, it was quiet; out there, and under Krennic, all eyes would be on what you were doing. You’d maybe be given the leeway of 2 or 3 mistakes but none more than that. And everything would be urgent. Needed yesterday! It was a good thing that you could work under pressure. Leaving was hard, and as you hugged Galen goodbye you couldn’t help but feel a pain in your heart: “I wish it didn’t mean leaving.” “You deserve it.” “Maybe. I hope I get to come back, eventually.” “We’ll certainly welcome you with open arms!” “Take care of yourself, Galen.” “And you – if he gives you any trouble, come straight to me.” You nearly grimaced, “Noted, but I really hope it doesn’t come to that!” *** The cruiser that picked you up wasn’t his, and you were glad the journey wasn’t as long as you expected, so you didn’t have too much time to overthink what was happening to you. In fact as the Death Star loomed into view your mouth was agape – you weren’t sure you expected the sheer size of it: easy to look at some numbers on a datapad but, when it was in front of you, you thought you might have bitten off a little more than you could chew. You were equally pleased and disappointed that Krennic was neither there to pick you up or greet you on the station – mostly because you didn’t seem to be able to find any appropriate words to say. The bustle of engineers, technicians and general command staff told you you were a million miles from your lab on Eadu, and you found yourself unable to communicate in anything other than one word awe filled sentences. Thankfully the Officer who greeted you seemed to understand, and as she walked you to your lab (everyone was obviously eager for you to start!) she chuckled warmly, “Don’t worry, I was exactly the same when I arrived here. It’s a lot. You’ll get used to it – and from what I understand you’ll be a very welcome addition to our team.” “Thanks,” You swallowed hard, “yes, I understand there’s an expectation on me here.” “Well, the Director only wants the best of the best.” She keyed you into the lab and then handed you your pass, “If you’re here it’s because you are the best. And he wants you.” You tried hard not to think about that in any way other than for your work, but it was hard. Ever since that look he’d given you as he left, those vivid blue eyes filled your dreams – including those that you’d rather Krennic kept out of. As she continued talking, she snapped you back to reality: “Anyway, I will leave you to get settled in here, all your things will be sent to your quarters. I’ll have someone sent up with all the details and your datapad.” She grinned at the door before she turned to head out, “Welcome to the Death Star!” *** You spent your time unpacking all your laboratory kit - some of this work you’d only trust to go right with your own gear that much was certain - before you started examining the lab closely. Everything was, as expected, state of the art, they had every machine it was possible to get in order to aid you on your quest to get these vectors just right. If the work wasn’t quite so serious this was almost a wonderland for you. As you continued to stare around the lab, making mental notes of exactly which you would need and would be the most useful for your work, the lab doors slid open again to another visitor. You turned to explain yourself away as the new girl but immediately froze. Standing opposite you, also seemingly glued to the spot and an unreadable look on his face, was none other than Director Krennic. You weren’t sure you expected to see him so soon, and you were still thoroughly unprepared for it. He recovered better than you. “I was told my new hire had arrived. You-” He paused for a minute, head tipped, before a small smile appeared on his face, “You’re from the Eadu facility!” After all, Krennic hadn’t asked only Galen for help in recruiting – you just had the best credentials. But he certainly recognised you from that platform. “Yes, Sir, Galen sent me – he said you were looking for a good crystallographer.” “Yes. And you’re here, welcome. It’s good to finally meet you in person.” “The honour is mine, Director, I look forward to working with you.” You swallowed hard, “Believe me, it is me that is honoured… uhm?” “Oh, Y/N, Sir.” Then you blushed forgetting yourself, “Ah! Officer L/N!” That smile became a gentle smirk, “Would it be so awful for me to refer to you by your first name?” “…I’m sorry, I… It’s how we do things on Eadu, I… realise that I am not there anymore Sir, forgive me.” You could feel yourself getting hotter. “You need not be forgiven, Y/N. I’m happy to do things your way.” Krennic placed a datapad on the table in front of him, “It’s all set up correctly, I made sure of that myself. I have to make sure my researcher is well equipped on the first day of her job, after all.” On top of it he lay another access card, “You’ll need that for your room, your ID will allow you access to almost as many files as me, I figured you’ll need them.” Krennic’s blue eyes fell back on you, “Anything you can’t access you come directly to me, and anything else you need, the same. I will make sure it reaches you promptly.” “Yes, Sir.” You nodded through his explanation, “Thank you.” Krennic nodded back, looking around the room, “Tell me, how do you like the lab?” “It’s certainly state of the art. There’s probably not another one like it across the galaxy. There’s a lot I would like to explore with these devices once I’m finished with my work for the Battle Station. Time permitting.” Krennic shrugged, “Do what you will with the time that you have free. I expect you’ll work hard.” “Yes, Sir.” “Good.” He winked stepping back from you, “I will leave you to get settled, and may I welcome you to the Death Star! I’m very excited to see what you can do for us!” And by that smirk on his face, yes, you could bet… Krennic hurried back to his office cursing himself. Yes, he wanted the best – and he had absolutely no doubt that he would get it with you. He’d read every CV in great detail; obviously he’d paid more attention to those from Galen, considering the weaponry was coming from that lab, but Galen had neglected to mention that you were with him on Eadu in his note for you. You were Galen’s first choice, and Orson Krennic was not about to go against his friend’s advice. It was just your look. Not just physically, but that look on your face – he couldn’t shake it.  Now he could bet that your personality would be similar just to curse him… He didn’t fall in love often, not hard. Orson could fall in and out of ‘love’ with people very quickly – always liked to keep a string of bed mates, if he didn’t fall in love, and didn’t necessarily care, then he wouldn’t get hurt. And he hardly needed to put in much effort, a little bit of flirting and an expensive drink was all he usually needed. Besides, now Krennic had this rank bar and a reputation, so he probably needed even less: sometimes people were trying to pick him up – he couldn’t say he wasn’t flattered. On the occasions he did though – it usually had the proficiency to mess him up. You reminded him very much of a girl he’d known in the Futures Program – back when he was young and reckless. Okay, Krennic could back track on that sentence, young. That, first love, fast heartbeat, can’t stop staring, ‘only thing in the world that matters’ kind of feeling. The kind of love that at that age would make him naïvely think it’d be forever – where their ambitions would meld together and everything would just work out. Even if they had no idea how. Krennic would stand by it as a real love, a feeling he had chased since he lost her. He’d fallen that hard again since – sure – but never in the same way. Orson didn’t think you could ever get a ‘first love’ feeling back. And he certainly didn’t want to ever feel like he did when it ended again. But you, and your face, and your body, and that look you gave him – all Krennic could see in you was her. Turning to his datapad for a second he had half a mind to see who your parents were, then stopped short of himself. ‘Don’t be stupid, Orson, she’s too old for that!’ – even if marginally. It made him curious about you though, what if your personality was the same? What if all of these factors culminated in him… feeling like that about you. He almost cursed at himself. ‘Don’t be stupid, she works for you, and you’ll shake it. It’s just the shock, it’s two or three glimpses of her face – you’ll be able to pick out all the differences in no time. Then you won’t think about what you loved and lost… or yearn for it back.’ Krennic scoffed at the very idea of him yearning, but brought you up on his datapad anyway. A smirk started to spread its way across his face as he lingered on your photograph. Well, he certainly wasn’t averse to one of you getting messed up in the process of this partnership…

***

 Krennic was right, one of you was going to get messed up by this; and it seemed more obvious now that person was going to be him. He wanted your personality to be different to hers, then he could form some distinction - and for the most part you had differences, you were your own woman. The problem was Krennic let himself get obsessed over the similarities, those small details that wouldn’t have mattered to anyone else. And if he was honest those parts of you that were nothing like her just messed him up even more, because he liked those too. He liked you for you. It worried him.

You busied yourself with your work and tried to keep out of everyone’s way. You very much hoped it might be ‘out of sight out of mind’; but knew with the importance of the project you wouldn’t have that luxury. That had you experimenting until the early hours of the morning sometimes - and you always sent Krennic an update email last thing before you went to bed. Just so he never had to come looking himself: you’d heard all about him, but now you were here you’d witnessed it yourself. And Krennic screaming at people in corridors was not something you were that ready for. You did not want that wrath coming down on you, so you tried to keep one step ahead of the man that knew this station inside and out. What amazed you was, as you placed your datapad down for the evening and settled into your sheets, more often than not you’d receive a ‘ping’ to let you know of incoming mail. You’d ignored it for a while but - being too curious - investigated, only to find Krennic had sent you a thank you note. ‘What the heck is he still up working for!?’ Well, this became a regular occurrence, and tonight was no different - only now you waited to see if he’d reply and you smiled as it came in. ‘Why can’t everyone do this?  Do you know how well this Station would run!? Thank you. As ever. - K.’ You hovered over the reply button, as you had nearly all week. Every single time the knot in your stomach made you panic and you bailed out. Not tonight. ‘You are welcome, Director. Just doing my job. It’s getting late, you should probably get some rest.’ As he had, you signed off with your initial. It took him all of 5 seconds to reply, ‘I could say the same.  Goodnight, Y/N. – K.’ ‘Goodnight, Director. Sleep well.’ You grimaced as the message flew off to the other side of the Death Star, was that a step too far? Oh well. Couldn’t take it back now!

Eventually your reports got shorter, not for lack of trying, but progress was slow. And you always tried to make ‘nothing really happened today’ last for as many pages as possible. But you realised quickly that Director Krennic was smart enough to read between the lines; he never asked for more than you gave him, but as he started asking you for progress updates, rather than waiting until you sent them, you knew he wasn’t far off the point where you might start receiving those dreaded block capital emails.

It wasn’t like what you’d done up until now wasn’t hard; it was. It was just now you were at a snagging point and you really didn’t want to have to redo what you’d already done to get past it. It also wasn’t something you could easily bypass. And you couldn’t ignore it. If you got this wrong that laser didn’t work - and it’d all come back on you. This calculation was going to take time you didn’t have - NOBODY had - and the pressure was starting to get you frustrated.

You didn’t actually receive a block capital email, but an impromptu visit to your lab. And the colour must have immediately drained from your face - to counteract the way your heart decided to beat like a kick drum - because Krennic raised his hands in almost apology. “Thought it might be quicker to ask you rather than you to write up a report.” “Well you already know it’s not going well.” “I know woolly language when I see it. You don’t need to use filler with me. If you’re stuck just say so.” “Forgive me, Sir, but I don’t exactly want to get yelled at, and there’s a lot at stake here.” You cursed yourself internally for being so comfortable with talking to him like this. But decided that it might be best to speak your mind. “Why would I yell at you?” You gave him a pointed look that Krennic understood, but he didn’t think you quite understood the question. Why would he yell at you? Instead he cleared his throat, “I understand… Why don’t you, walk me through it?” “Can you help?” It wasn’t meant to come out so disbelieving, and you thought you’d put your foot in it about 10 times during this conversation already - but Krennic just shrugged. “I’ll see if I can assist. Maybe I’ll have a perspective you’re not thinking of.” You took a breath, “Okay...” “Okay.” He gave a firm nod, and sat at one of the lab tables, “What exactly are you trying to achieve that you cannot?” You took a deep breath, “Think of holding a laser pointer,” you collected one, and as a demonstration you pointed it at the blank wall and clicked it on; “Even with a steady hand, or two hands, there’s movement.” The dot wasn’t wiggling much but Krennic nodded along, “Well, this station is just a massive destructive laser pointer, with 8 different lasers all coming together… so in fact there’s 9 laser pointers in total. Even a millimetre out can be the difference between this laser working, or catching on something we don’t want it to and blowing up Imperial Forces, or - god forbid - the entire station…!” You walked over to a little holder you’d rigged up, placing the pen upon it and stepping back: “Crudely speaking when focusing a laser through Kyber it should keep the laser's trajectory steady with pinpoint accuracy, whilst also maintaining the power and range of the laser. It’s a multipoint system, if even one of those points is off, the whole thing fails. And what better to take the power of a laser created by Kyber than…” “Kyber.” You smiled enthusiastically, “Exactly!” Krennic looked back at the dot on the wall, “So what’s your snag?” You turned the datapad to face him, “This.” He raised an eyebrow immediately, “That’s… a lot of numbers.” “Yes. And every time I calculate it, it’s an error. And it needs to balance because it’s got to work between-” “Nine lasers.” You said in unison. “Correct.” You smiled, liking that he was getting it. “I don’t expect Kyber not to be able to take the force, it’s the making sure we’re hitting it all just right. To check how much the crystals might refract the energy. To make sure there’s not a power surge… I just can’t get the power balance right to get the trajectory… not to do something ridiculously wild.” “Or make the whole station virtually useless.” “Yes. And the thing is that the number is nearly always the same. You know, like… I’m point-5 out, and yet I can’t figure out where that is coming from. Freakin’ crystals, and Kyber is notoriously the worst!” You placed your hands on your hips, “I’ll get it. I just need time.” He nodded, “You have time believe me.” Krennic stood, “I believe I should leave you to it.” “But the completion of the-” “Let me worry about that. You worry about getting my vectors right. You have time.” That he could promise you. Krennic didn’t want you to panic, he thought that would throw this project into even more disarray. He needed you with a level head and at your best mindset. He thought he knew how to do just that. You flushed, “Thank you, Director.” “Don’t mention it, Y/N.” He paused as he got to the door, turning back to you those blue eyes caught yours and you nearly jumped at the dark flicker across them. “I look forward to reading your report, tonight.” The way his voice lowered like that, how that smooth tone he usually kept laced with a growl had you struggling to breathe as he left, and you had to undo your uniform and catch your breath. ‘Geez, what was that!?’ Did you have a thing for your senior commander? A real thing!? Sure those damn eyes were always haunting your dreams, and he was nearly always your daily closing thought (but he put himself there, didn’t he!) but… this was more than that, this was a physical reaction - and you were sure he was eliciting an emotional one from you, too. “God dammit, Y/N,” you breathed, looking back to the door and wishing he’d come walking back through it, “could you have a worse idea-!?” *** He had to be honest he wasn’t sure why he had no semblance of control around you; it should have been easy to control. Krennic spent his life trying to control his emotions… okay, maybe not very well but he did. You had him smiling all over the place. He far outstayed his welcome in the lab whenever he found reason to go down there; and Krennic certainly found plenty of reason. Usually if he visited anyone at their work station he was either none too pleased with them, or he wanted their report - and quickly! - before he swept himself off to another meeting or urgent matter around the station. He liked the sound of your voice explaining things to him; and how every question he asked was met with not just an answer, but a good answer. Instead of a string of ‘I don’t know, sir’s. Nothing Krennic asked of you ever seemed like trouble either; then again he supposed you wouldn’t really want to refuse the Director of the Death Star what he wanted. It was obvious you wanted to remain here, and you were trying to do your very best to figure out all these algorithms alone.

Krennic sent you an assistant and even got you on calls with people in similar fields. The assistant stayed with you a little, until it got a little too complicated even for them and you dismissed them with thanks - you’d got a step closer, that’s all you could ask for. Eventually though, you had to reach out to Galen - and Krennic wanted to sit in on these calls. You wondered if it was because he thought the two of you would spend the majority of it dragging him - you rather thought you might be giving him a string of compliments with half the chance to do so. And the three of you started to break your work down to basics. Krennic’s new perspective aided more than you really wanted to admit to him, but he had this attitude that made you think he wanted to be useful here - and it made you more than a little suspicious. Maybe he really was spying on you both…

Krennic wasn’t sure if he wasn’t forcing the relationship to grow beyond appropriate parameters, all discussions did still revolve around work after all, but was happy that you were forthcoming. Spending more time with you meant he could analyse you more - and whilst you still very much reminded him of his ex-lover, you were becoming your own person. The person who filled his thoughts. You were almost his every waking moment. When in your lab together, even when Krennic was listening to every word, he was watching your body - the way you moved was fluid as you eagerly explained something and demonstrated. But meticulous and calculating when you were working on a screen - absolutely none of your energy was wasted that could have been used to think on the problem. And yet even every small movement you made was significant. Usually to cross through or correct a calculation. Change your vector arrows around a little. Krennic liked watching you do this too, because when it was all correct you gave this small satisfied smile, and even though it was to yourself, it was very endearing - it was one thing he always looked forward to seeing.

Tonight, as ever, Krennic was agonising over waiting for your report. No matter how exhausted he might be when he finally retired to his quarters for the evening, he always knew your end of day email would come through and Krennic forced himself to stay awake for it. Mostly so he could read too much into the string of ‘flirty’ emails that followed it, but he couldn’t have been the only one who read that energy. After all, sometimes he gratuitously flirted back, and you still kept responding. As soon as he heard that ping he rushed across the room to read it. You reporting was always concise even though you managed not to leave a single detail out - and now he knew more about your work, it was easier to understand and for him to scan through. Krennic would be more thorough tomorrow. ‘Thorough as ever, Ms. L/N. – K.’ ‘I like to make sure you don’t need to ask questions.’ ‘Where’s the fun in that? – K.’ ‘It helps me sleep better.’ ‘Me not ask questions about your reporting? – K.’ ‘Goodnight Director. Please get some sleep!’ He remembered the first time that he’d read that goodnight from you, how he’d stared at those words for a long time - heart stilled. It didn’t help him sleep at all, far from it. In fact nothing about you seemed to help anything - except Krennic thinking on you.

You were impressive - dare he say that you had more skill in your particular area than maybe even Galen did. That, added to the weight of his constant Futures Program reminder, kept you at the forefront of his mind constantly. Krennic found it very hard to concentrate on his own work; and his thoughts wandered, particularly in meetings he found to be less than stimulating. He’d poured over your CV and your previous published research time and again. Read all your imperial records and anything Intelligence could get hold of on you. Krennic knew almost everything there was to know, and yet he wanted to hear it all from you. And you seemed less than forthcoming with information that was personal. That almost worried him - maybe you weren’t looking for anything other than a professional relationship with him. Krennic wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep it that way; eventually he’d have to make some kind of move - he couldn’t let you go without you knowing. He wasn’t about to let you be the (other) one that got away. Not both of you. Time ticked on this evening, and he lay in his sheets wide awake. Work was making him drowsy; and he’d been up and down trying to work himself to sleep, but every time he put his datapad down and switched off the lights he was alert again. Krennic glanced at the clock and groaned, watching the minutes race towards his alarm. Unsurprisingly it was thoughts of you that were keeping him awake. Usually you were on his mind at night; you were certainly the last one before he turned the light off, but usually he could drift to sleep perfectly fine. Not tonight. Krennic placed his hands palm down on his stomach, inhaling and exhaling slowly: wasn’t that how you did it? Deep, slow, calming breaths. That evidently made things worse, and his breathing patterns this time brought with them fairly vivid images that occasionally he’d seen in dreams. Certainly none of them were very professional - and all of them were about you. ‘Stars-! Orson, stop it!’ But he couldn’t, and his mind wanted to play tricks on him, trying to make him imagine what it would feel like to touch your bare skin, to hear you moan quietly, the way you might say his name in elation. He growled to himself as heat gathered a little lower than his hands were. He moved them, breaths already short and sharp and not at all where he’d intended to be at… “This is a bad idea.” Orson groaned softly and bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut bringing all those images back; did he really have any better ones? *** It wasn’t a lie to state you were getting closer. At least to the point where Krennic started to make jokes in meetings that were clearly meant for you only. And when you looked up to him unsure if it was appropriate to laugh and he’d almost dare you to, you knew they certainly were. He’d always ask for a score out of 10 in his emails to you now. And it was refreshing for you to find a similar relationship to the one you had with Galen here… well, maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised. They were good friends after all, and there had to be a reason for that. Krennic also made a habit of being wherever you were. And you weren’t sure that was so endearing. You understood why he would want to be around your lab - maybe not as often as he was, but then… perhaps you knew the reason for that too, you just didn’t want to hope on it - but not why he’d turn up in corridors he had no business being in. Or would end up in the cafeteria at the exact moment you walked in. He even ended up in staff briefings he’d specifically asked someone else to take either so he could sit or stand near you. You couldn’t help but find some of this behaviour odd: was Krennic stalking you? Was he looking out for you? Was he protecting you? You couldn’t imagine it was just coincidence - and part of you hoped it wasn’t. You just couldn’t really tell his intentions. That’s what scared you the most.

By now you’d heard the coffee room chat about Krennic - seemed he had a bit of a lady’s man reputation. Pretty smooth at getting you into bed, but would love you and leave you just as fast, and on-to-the-next-one. Were you simply the next one? Because as much as by now you wanted to be, you certainly didn’t want to be one on a list… love you was okay… but leave you? You weren’t the type of woman who would put yourself in that position. For him would you?

It made you a little more cautious around him, and suddenly that made your relationship slip. Because you didn’t know if you should be flirting with him or joking with him as much as you were. This pull back from you didn’t faze Krennic too much, just made him try a little harder. For you it then became obvious what he wanted. And you had to do your damndest to control yourself. You both did.

You were using every ounce of your Imperial training to try to ignore your feelings, to make sure your face stayed level and revealed nothing. You always tried to keep your eyes on his face; instead of the wandering they wanted to do - even when he wasn’t directly talking to you. That didn’t mean that when he was walking away from you, or simply keeping busy in your lab, you weren’t discreetly checking him out. You had to wonder what he looked like out of that uniform, considering he looked so gorgeous in it. You were inexplicably drawn to him, but you weren’t sure if it was his power you were attracted to: the rank bar on that uniform told everyone exactly who was boss and he walked like he owned every corridor in this place. He didn’t even need to exert his influence in meetings, everyone knew he was the most important man in the room. When Krennic had something to say everyone listened, even when he said it quietly. You’d never known someone to command that kind of attention, and considering that reputation you were not the only officer - of any gender - who fawned over him. You were just the best at hiding it. That charisma he exuded really was something to behold; he was just far too confident. Maybe a little conceited in it too, but you were sure you’d be powerless to it. The Director probably had the ability to walk up to you and say “Come to bed with me” and you’d go on that alone, you knew if he was so inclined, he could just say it like that. It was probably in your favour that Krennic liked to be a little more suave. Krennic seemed like one for class and grace. Or was it that you really were attracted to him, that you had some kind of undeniable chemistry. That you would almost count him a friend. That you just liked being in Krennic’s aura and talking to him about work… you’d even started to open up to him about personal stuff, where you’d grown up, your family… how exactly you’d ended up a crystallographer who was working here on laser vectors. And most importantly how much you loved storms, planetary or solar - this seemed like something you had to let him know. Just a silly little fact, perhaps, but to you it really meant something. It was little moments like that, when he laughed at your stories, that you thought this really might be mutual attraction, rather than someone Krennic just wanted to get in bed.

Yet, you had an effect on him also and he tried to hide it as well as you did. You caught it, only because you knew the look of someone trying to contain themselves. You saw it in the mirror or polished surfaces of this battle station all the time. Krennic quite often clenched his jaw around you, he had this habit of staring at you like he was staring through you; and sometimes he would just stare forward if you were next to him. That almost annoyed you, because you wanted to be able to look into those crystal blue orbs just once... But if Krennic was watching you, then it was an altogether different story, and if he ever caught you catching him, that look in his eyes didn’t disappear; it was hungry, and although it stirred something within you that you had to fight even harder to control, it scared you a little too - and in the back of your mind it lit a spark that became a raging fire. And you had to know, would he act on that look too? You made a vow, before you’d finished your work, before you’d left this battle station - you would find out.

Today hadn’t been so bad by all accounts; the test you’d set up you would have to leave overnight, so you got out of the lab on time. Maybe you’d even get an early night tonight. Maybe you’d persuade the Director to one of his own with your report email; you thought he probably needed it. A frown pulled its way across your face as you arrived at your quarters with the door open, and you poked your head around it, gasping to find other officers moving things around, and carrying what appeared to be boxes of your stuff. You hadn’t authorised this! “What’s going on!?!” You blurted, a little angrier than you’d meant, “What are you doing!?” Then you froze for a second; had you read something wrong? You knew something was up with him… but maybe you were supposed to have acted on it by now? Maybe your work was taking too long - was he pissed at you? Did Krennic want you off the station!? You looked to the most senior officer, “Am I being thrown off the project?!” “No.” At least you could breathe then, “We’re simply moving your quarters.” “Moving my quarters?” You couldn’t help but be confused: had you missed that email? It seemed a little too important to just be sprung upon you. “On whose orders!? I haven’t signed off on this!” “Director Krennic’s.” That shut you up almost immediately. ‘Oh well shit, what’s he moving me for!?’ You swallowed hard, not even caring if it was visible. “Well, in that case you better show me where I’m moving to…”

Once you got there - and they assured you that your key card would still work - you realised that you hadn’t just moved to any old room. Krennic had moved you to a commander's quarters, and it was plush to say the least. You had so much more room in here. The bay window stretched at least half the room and you couldn’t help your small smile; ‘he remembered’. Your little stories of staying up huddled in a window frame to watch storms in nearby, or passing, solar systems and planets. You shook your head slowly to yourself and picked up your datapad again, figuring out where exactly you were on the ship - further from the labs, which was a minor inconvenience. It seemed that at least there was an elevator close by that you could use to get to the right floor and then it’d be a straight walk. What interested you though was, looking at the schematic, you appeared to be just two corridors away from Krennic’s own room. That was not coincidence. “Son of a-” suddenly you found yourself laughing. Why? So he could walk past your room every day? So he had you closer? And looking at the rooms around, probably as close as he could get: you were surrounded by his senior command team.

You moved through the room, and started to notice little details that he’d had placed here; books by your favourite authors, or researchers… your favourite music. Maybe you’d told him far too much about yourself. But it was the fact he retained the information that had you impressed. He’d even left you a box, tied with ribbon in your bathroom, and when you pulled at it you found it was filled with very expensive toiletries, that you knew he wouldn’t have been able to come by easily, in all your favourite scents. Nothing is coincidence at all… is it Krennic? Was he trying to woo you - was this all part of a game plan; you could only conclude yes. And by the way your heart was currently beating in your chest, you had to say it was working.

Moving back into the main room and sitting back on the bed with your datapad, ready to send your report for the evening, you’d failed to notice the letter lying on top of your sheets. You pulled your finger across the top of the envelope and unfolded the card carefully: ‘Dear Y/N, Welcome to your new quarters. I believe someone of your talent is worthy of somewhere a little nicer. You will find me just down the hall if you need anything, and please do not hesitate. I hope you enjoy your stay here. And, should there be a storm, that you enjoy the view. Director Orson C. Krennic Head - Imperial Weapons Division’ The card also seemed to be scented, which you had to raise an eyebrow at; ‘who uses scented note cards?! What’s that all about!?’ You put it down to having more money than sense and placed the card on your bedside table, before getting back to what was really important.

As expected, even when it was a little earlier in the evening, Orson Krennic responded to your email almost immediately. ‘Earlier than usual? You really are efficient, Y/N. – K.’ ‘Thought I would get an early night in Director… in my new quarters. You should to.’ - You weren’t meant to imply together, but you also didn’t care if that’s how he read it. ‘Any thoughts? – K.’ ‘They are very nice, thank you. Although in future a little more notification would help!’ ‘Noted. And as you are closer, you can deliver your reports in person now – K.’ You raised an eyebrow, why would that make any sense? ‘When I can send it over email?’ Why... would you? Even when closer the time it’d take you to walk to his quarters, give him the document and walk back, would still be far longer than an email. ‘Consider it. – K.’ ‘I will!’ You weren’t sure you would, but that was what he wanted to hear. And of course you’d play to that whim. ‘Good. Goodnight, Y/N – K.’ ‘Goodnight Orson.’ You stared at the email after you’d sent it and almost screamed. What were you doing-!?! Why were you addressing a senior officer by his first name!? What was he bringing you to? You placed your head in your hands and took a deep breath. ‘Okay, it’s one slip and you can say you were tired and apologise profusely later…’

You threw your tablet on your table too and snuggled back under your new plush sheets. The bed was cozy and soft and suddenly you couldn’t be happier that Krennic had arranged for this. You closed your eyes; it was this time of the evening you liked to try and ground yourself. It was clear that both of you wanted each other to some degree, but you were the one that had to be sure about this and the most careful. You had more to lose here; Krennic had the ability to kick you off the project, not just out of his bed… if you ever got in it. But by now you were pretty sure you would end up in it. It was more a matter of when. He was powerful, you’d covered that. But Krennic was also dangerous, that much was also obvious… dangerous in terrible and delicious ways. So perhaps, as well as everything else, you were drawn to that danger. You wondered suddenly which side of him would show up more when it was just the two of you alone… in conditions more intimate. Would that power completely consume you; did you have any chance at all? You weren’t sure you wanted any at just the opportunity to be pinned under his body. To run your hands over his skin. To answer all the questions you had, and see if all those water cooler rumours were true… (You hoped to God some of them were.)

You were close to drifting off when your eyes suddenly snapped open. Krennic was your favourite pre-sleep thought, and your subconscious tonight brought you a revelation. That note card was not scented. You scrambled around for it and held it close to your face, inhaling. That was what Krennic smelled like - you should know because you’d always thought he smelt pretty good, it was a fairly subtle scent when on his skin - here it was a little stronger, which is why it had taken you so long to pick up on it.

That damn man had sprayed his note to you with his cologne. *** You decided that Krennic knew far too much about you. On the morning after your move you opened your door to head back to the labs, so you could check on the results of your testing, and Krennic was two steps from your door. You were startled by his sudden presence but he offered nothing but a small smile and a casual, “Right on time, Ms. L/N.” “Uh- I- Director.” You wouldn’t exactly say you greeted him as he felt in step with your walk towards the elevator. “How do you think your testing went?” “Well…” You took a deep breath, instantly regretting it as that cologne seemed to surround you completely. Now your senses were looking for it. Your stomach knotted and you felt the immediate urge to press your thighs together and groan. Dammit. “Well?” Krennic pressed, eying you when you didn’t answer. You hoped your face wasn’t flushing even though you felt hot. “It’s a make or break test. I certainly hope it’s worked.” You could hear that strained edge to your voice, you knew for certain Krennic would have picked up on it. As you turned into the elevator you immediately reached for your button, the Director was two steps ahead of you and your hands brushed. You withdrew yours immediately, and knew you must have been red by now. “S-Sorry.” “No, my apologies, I just wanted to help.” You stared at the floor of the elevator for a good few minutes, holding your fingertips in your other hand. Why did it tingle like that? You didn’t actually ever think you’d physically touched him before, had you? Even when you’d been so close previously in the lab. But it’s not even like it was his skin. In fact, for someone with such a reputation, Krennic had very little skin on display at all. Did he ever not wear gloves? Not that you could recall. ‘Stop-! Y/N! You sound so repressed! You’ve seen naked men before.’ Your eyes flicked back to Krennic, staring at the ceiling, and you swallowed hard. Sure, but you hadn’t seen him naked. The rest of the ride was conducted in silence, because you didn’t trust yourself not to blurt out anything you shouldn’t, but as you left Krennic took a step to stop the doors from closing. “What, not even a goodbye?” You paused in the corridor and turned back to him, unable to stop yourself from smiling that he actually wanted that from you. “Goodbye Director, have a good day.” “Not likely, but work permitting. Good day, Y/N.” and as the doors slid closed on him you caught his wink, and could swear he was smirking.

You stood outside your little lab for a long time before you entered. You admitted to yourself you were delaying the inevitable but you needed to. After all, if this was a complete failure then you might as well throw out almost a years’ worth of work. Well, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but at least all the months you’d been up here on the battle station. You’d need a good stiff drink and to cry in bed for a couple of days at the very least. Oh, and you’d probably be fired, reputation in ruins… You keyed yourself in and flicked on the lights. What you had done was rigged up a few small versions of the Death Star and set each of them to different vectors. The pieces of Kyber you were using were tiny, but they would still work in principle with your laser pens.

You stared at the points on the wall in turn. One had disappeared completely, which was all but useless to you. It didn’t mean that the calculation wasn’t steady: it could have just meant that the trajectory was way off. Either way, you could discount that as a failure. And the next one; giving a similar waver to when you’d shown Krennic what ‘steady hands’ really meant. Although minimal, you’d already explained why you couldn’t stand for it. That left the last two. And the results looked fairly similar even though your vectors were different for both. You had to call the result unexpected: perhaps there were two ways to do this. You looked back to your little models and then to the points, waving your hand in front of the lasers. And then you smiled, and that small smile became a grin, became a laugh of triumph. Although both were near perfect, the third one had a far stronger beam of light. There was your power. The second most important part of the project. The station had to do what it was built for when the laser reached its target, after all. “We have a winner.” You whispered to yourself walking back to your table. Now you had to report these findings and scale them up to full size. Working in other contingency factors - after all that laser would not be travelling through clean air in a lab and hitting a solid smooth wall. That would be fun.   Still, you couldn’t wait on his report to tell him the good news. ‘Report spoilers: It works!’ There was a long pause between emails, and you could picture Krennic sitting at his desk, relief flooding him, smug little smirk on his face that this was finally going to get done - the finish line seemed in sight now. You hoped you’d made his day. When the email came back you couldn’t help but read into it a little more than you probably should have, and yet you also thought he wanted you to: ‘This sounds like a cause for celebration... – K.’

You did not in fact bring the report to him by hand, and neither did he ask it of you, but from that day forward you were called into his office daily briefings. And suddenly you got to realise just what your research meant to the people working on this station, because the first day you walked in, expecting to see just him, the room was full of his top engineers and each and every single one of them was applauding you. “Now the real work begins.” Krennic was leaning against his desk, arms folded, with eyes only for you. “Welcome, Y/N, to the team that will build your concept. From physical engineering to coding. I will assist in overseeing you, but the team are now at your disposal. From now, until test day.” Your eyes couldn’t help but light up, even though you knew you should have probably been professional about this. “Thank you, Director.” You beamed, “I look forward to working with all of you. Let's make this vision a reality, for the Empire!”

Suddenly this was better than anything you’d had with Krennic before - you almost had non-stop contact with him, from walking out of your door in the morning, to retiring for the evening. And you were happy to find that he provided both the perfect intellectual and humorous stimulant. You also noted how many crew members now looked at you with nothing but jealousy. Despite the fact nothing had happened between you yet. The way he regarded you was now even more open. Every look that followed every little flirtatious comment or innuendo was extremely pointed. Sometimes his eyes would even darken. It scared you enough to have you shy away from him; but also had you scared at how much you desired him. You just wanted him to touch you, just the smallest taste. To be honest you didn’t care what he did, as long as he did something. Krennic could bend you over his desk in front of your entire engineering team for all you cared anymore.

Speaking of your engineering team, you’d never seen a group of people work harder or more efficiently, and seeing them turn all your data and tiny models into tangible pieces for the Death Star was wonderful. You gasped to see the sheer size of the Kyber they had harvested to give your vectors pinpoint accuracy. “I have never… seen Kyber like that!” And the way Krennic got all smug again, “Only the best for you. Of course.” “You flatter me, Sir.” And that little knowing nod he gave you back. Once everything started to go into place, and you got word that Galen was almost finished with the laser itself (you received many an email from him about how proud he was and so many others from your friends back on Eadu that you almost cried, thanking them again and again for their participation in even the smallest part of your research), that the dish was currently in the process of being assembled outside and you couldn’t believe you were doing this. You couldn’t believe you were about to be a part of history. Your name was going to be right up there. Never even in your wildest dreams... As you could take a little more time over your reports these days, and there was far less for you to really comment on, you did start to present Krennic with physical copies. Usually just before you headed off for the evening you would drop them off on his desk with a small smile, and he would drag them towards him. “Glad to see you are taking my advice.” “Well, as you seemed fairly adamant I did it, I thought I had better start, Director.” “They do make for good bedtime reading.” “I’ll bet…” Only for the last week you’d started spraying them with your perfume, very subtly at first, but steadily the scent became stronger, and oh, he had noticed. When the doors closed behind you this evening he held the report to his nose and inhaled, groaning as heat coursed through his body. Krennic couldn’t take it any longer, he knew exactly what you were doing. Both of you were dancing around it, and now neither of you were being very subtle, either. But this was the final straw - because he wanted this scent all over him. What it would feel like to pin you beneath him, have your body against his as you whined and called his name, what it would feel like to finally be inside you… He’d certainly thought on it in quieter moments of the evening enough… *** Tonight your report was late. Not for no good reason; you had a lot of data to review. Galen kept sending you updated laser figures to get you as close as possible with your final vectors. Oh, you had no doubt that the Kyber could take it. You’d given a wide berth for the perimeters; but still, you wanted to check and triple check. On your head be it if you didn’t and everything went wrong. Still you wanted to stop by Krennic’s office to let him know why it would be late, as you always seemed to bring it to him around this time these days.

Krennic looked up as you walked in, without even knocking, but he hardly cared about that. His eyes narrowed at the lack of papers in your arms. “Where is my report?” Your face scrunched a little, “If you’d let me get a word out Director, I would tell you. I have a lot of data back from Galen that I want to check and double check before I send it over to you. I want to give you as accurate data and results as possible. So it’ll probably be late, or later than it has been these past few weeks.” Krennic tilted his head, eyebrow raised “Late?” He didn’t sound very appreciative. “Only about as ‘late’ as used to be normal.” He rose from his chair, and those blue eyes locked on yours, “Late-late bedtime reading? This from a woman who says I should be going to bed earlier.” “This once!” You protested as he rounded his desk. “You think that’s good enough?” You didn’t understand why he’d be mad at you, and Krennic didn’t sound mad… but the words he was using… “Well I didn’t think you’d mind.” “Oh, believe me, I mind.” “I-” You were about to tell him you were sorry - although really you had nothing to be sorry for - but he didn’t stop beside you. Instead Krennic stood behind you, a little too close for your liking.

You froze immediately as his voice lowered to a whisper, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear. The scrape of leather against your skin made you shiver, and you only wished it was his fingertips. You bit back your moan. “I am alone in my quarters after 2200 hours, it sounds like I’ll have data to review with you: that’s an order.” You swallowed unsure of the kind of response he wanted, “Yes, Sir.” slipped out of your mouth and he seemed satisfied. “Good girl. I want it on paper, as you’ve been doing recently.” “Yes, Sir.” “Well then…” He stepped away from you and you realised that you’d barely breathed for the past few minutes, “You best get to it, hadn’t you?” “Yes, Sir.” What was wrong with you!? Was that all you could say!? When you turned around he’d already moved away, crossing the room. “Good. Now go. And don’t make me wait, Y/N.” Krennic glanced over his shoulder at you, blue eyes burning, “As I’m sure you know by now, I am not a patient man.” *** You had to admit the pressure was on now. Because you did really want to present him with a decent report. (Just in case he wasn’t messing with you and he would be pissed if you didn’t turn up at 2200 with the correct figures.) And you sat back in the lab speed typing your way to the end whilst also trying to be as careful about Galen’s calculations as possible. You were right of course, his new figures still worked perfectly within your own. You looked at the clock, 2130. And the Director had told you not to be late. You printed the report and rushed back to your quarters; your heart was beating on overdrive. Was this about to be the encounter you’d always imagined? The throbbing ache between your thighs you’d also been trying (and failing) to ignore since he’d brushed his fingers to your skin earlier certainly hoped so. You barely had time for a quick shower to freshen up, but you took it anyway before changing and spraying yourself with that same perfume you’d been dousing your reports in, and hoping you wouldn’t run into anyone in the two corridors that you would have to traverse.

You checked yourself in the mirror as you gathered the hard copy of the report and your datapad for back up. You looked flushed, but still pretty at least. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself for your walk - you had a feeling you were about to end up being even more so… You paused suddenly and turned to the window; the colour of space had suddenly caught your eye. Purples and blues fogged in front of you, instead of the usual endless rolling black flecked with stars. It shimmered every so often and you recognised it instantly. ‘An Ion storm is coming…’ you breathed. You hadn’t noticed because your lab had no windows, but you were overjoyed that you hadn’t missed it. You allowed yourself to marvel it for a few seconds more before you realised you were about to make yourself late. Padding down the corridors you were pleased to see that there was no-one on route and you reached his room at exactly 2159. You waited for that minute to tick over, and at 2200, you knocked.

“Enter.” Krennic’s voice called you, with a sultry edge to it. And you bit your lip gently. At the sound of his voice his door slid open, and beckoned you inside. *** If you thought your room was spacious and had a generous window, this one was something else. Krennic’s quarters had a window that swept almost the entire far end of the room, and your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to those vibrant purples and blues again. The lighting was fairly dimmed but you recognised it as ambiance; Krennic was setting a mood here. That feeling stirred once more in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed hard, the room had all the amenities, and you wondered why the hell he even wanted an office as well as this. Probably because he didn’t want everyone in his room, you guessed, but he had a desk and everything here. You scanned across the room to the bed; at least king sized, the sheets looked comfortable and luxurious. Why didn’t that surprise you either.

Footsteps approached from your left and Krennic swept around the corner from whatever had been keeping him occupied. He halted, immediately tipping his head to survey your body - instinctively you pulled the papers up to your chest and hugged them close. “I-I believe you asked me here to take you through a data review, Sir. And I made sure to print them all.” He hadn’t even traced his way up to your face yet and that smile became a grin, became a smirk. Krennic stepped forward - bless you for actually printing the damn report. He held his hand out, “Indeed I did.” You offered up the paperwork and he walked back to his desk, beckoning you to follow him. He could already smell the perfume on the documents, biting back a low moan. He had no intention of reading them tonight. In fact you hadn’t even sprayed the documents with your perfume, but there was so much of it on you that when you’d held them close it couldn’t help but transfer across. Krennic set them, and your datapad, down on his desk and turned back to you, now a little further into the room. Your hair was down to natural length and framed your face delicately. There were no shoes on your feet either. But your dress… oh… Ending just appropriately long enough to cover everything, the silk slip dress - in your favourite colour, Krennic remembered - plunged pretty low, thin straps looped over your shoulders and, he couldn’t see yet, but it had a low back too. At least you were dressed appropriately for where your evening was going to go. Krennic swallowed, aware of his own arousal as he made his way slowly back over to you, again, instead of stopping in front of you he rounded your body. Where he was close the cape brushed against your bare skin and you had to bite your lip hard not to whimper. Why was just the feel of it so sexy? Was it really the thought of being covered in it and nothing else? Would he wear it if you asked him to…? No, maybe not for your first time together… you didn’t think he’d want you making too many demands of him.

“I checked the weather for today and it looks like there will be a good ion lightning storm in the area. We can’t exactly move out of its way so… I thought you might like to observe…” “You remember a lot of things about me, Director… this one I might just have to thank you for.” Even as he disappeared behind you again you kept your eyes front on space, although you couldn’t help but be curious if he was going to touch your hair again. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he was finally gloveless. I really AM like a repressed maiden! He halted, and somehow it felt like he was even closer than before; was Krennic’s breath on the back of your neck just your imagination? You shivered involuntarily and even if you couldn’t see him, you could picture that smirk. His voice was at a husky whisper, already threatening to drive you wild. You didn’t dare press your thighs together, despite your desperation. “This dress is certainly not regulation uniform, and as per the rules, that would mean it needs to be removed.” You didn’t even get the chance to wonder if Krennic was going to do it himself as his large hands rested on your shoulders for a moment. You couldn’t help but tense; it seemed like such a foreign concept, his bare skin touching yours. You wondered if his hands would be calloused with all the work he did. He certainly didn’t mind getting dirty. But he was an architect at heart, and his hands seemed pretty smooth, assured, and warm… he was so warm… Krennic caressed his fingertips over you and you really couldn’t have helped that small whine even if you’d have tried. You were still picturing that delicious little smirk in your head, and you wanted to kiss it off. Patience… At this rate you’ll be getting to do more than that... His fingers slid under the straps, pulling them off your shoulders agonisingly slow, but Krennic didn’t attempt to help the fabric down your body, instead he just let it fall. It pooled around your feet and you swallowed hard again, hearing the slight chuckle in his voice before he tsked you. “You didn’t think to wear anything underneath?” “Well I thought about it, but-” You gasped as his hand grasped your waist, sliding down to your hip, his other brushing your hair back to expose your neck. Krennic’s first kiss wasn’t even tentative; but it was teasing and you shook under his touch. He smirked into your neck as he continued to kiss a trail. You bit back a groan, closing your eyes to the sensation of his lips on your skin, sighing for certain as his tongue ran over you. Had you told him this too? Or did he really know far too much… Finally having him kiss you after all this time was something that you almost found indescribable, and the heat between your thighs made you press them together as discreetly as possible - he’d get there you were sure of it, but that ache demanded attention. Krennic inhaled - and somehow that perfume smelled even better on your skin. He growled, grazing his teeth over your jugular, pulling your body back into his. “Oh… Y/N… you smell so good.” You gasped again as this time his arms locked around your waist to hold you in place; so close that his cape once again brushed your skin, you simply lay your hands over his. His still clothed body pressed up against yours felt simply divine and you knew Krennic was about to drive you insane, on purpose. As those kisses to your neck became a little hotter - and you started to imagine all the marks about to be left on your body - you couldn’t resist tipping your head back to sigh his name. You couldn’t be sure which he wanted to hear, but surely he would tell you if it was his first name. Maybe he didn’t want his lovers to call him that… you remembered your promise not to become just one on a list, but you didn’t want to think too hard on that right now. Much more enjoy the moment. You leant your body weight back against him, suddenly feeling tiny in his large hands. He smirked into your skin again, pulling back, one hand coming back up to turn your face to his.

“My, my… You’re already so flushed and… responsive.” That little smirk was so gorgeous you had second thoughts about kissing it off. You were already aware of how heavy you were breathing. Krennic bit his lip and somehow that made him sexier, “Have you thought about this?” You nodded, hardly seeing the point of lying. “A lot?” You knew the blush on your cheeks was only getting deeper as you nodded again. Krennic chuckled, “At least I’m not the only one…” He held you in place by your chin, “Whatever your fantasies are, you can tell me. But I can promise I’ll be better.” He studied your face intently, “Would you like me to kiss you, Y/N?” You wondered if that was a stupid question, eyes flicking to his lips and back to that intense stare he was giving you, “Y-Yes.” Surprisingly his kiss wasn’t as rough as they had been to your neck, but he showed no mercy when deepening it, and his tongue wasn’t about to let yours assert any dominance. You could taste hints of alcohol and caffeine, and something sweet - although you could hardly remember what they were serving in the canteen now. When Krennic finally released your lips to let you breathe, you were panting even harder - how was it possible to feel that power even in his kisses; you were going to be completely at his mercy all night and right now it was a delightful prospect. The wealth of experience he had meant he could surely show you a thing or two. The next graze of his lips to yours was fleeting, and he drew from you a whine. By his smile exactly what Krennic wanted. His hands wandered as he pressed a kiss into your shoulder, down the run of the pulse in your neck and over your clavicles to your breasts. Keeping those steely blue eyes on yours you were hardly able to look away as his fingertips brushed over your sensitive nipples. Even your attempts to stifle your groans didn’t work and you closed your eyes to his touch as he circled his fingertips around one. “You are so fucking beautiful…” He nudged your head gently with his own to expose your neck to him once more, “And you sound fucking beautiful too…” “K-Krennic…” You mumbled his name again, once again fixating on his fingertips as he moved them across to your other breast, repeating the same teasing circular motion before he kneaded you. You thought you’d read somewhere that you could orgasm just from this - and right now you’d believe it; feeling that sticky sweetness on your inner thighs. At this rate you weren’t going to last until Krennic touched you there. “Maybe we’ll have to make this your regulation uniform.” His voice was husky, “I’m sure I could have that rule changed just for you.” You shuddered again as he pinched your nipple between his fingers playfully, “Would you like that?” “O-Only f-or you.” You might as well go for it; he might as well know exactly how you felt. “Ahhhh!” Krennic vocalised like he’d just figured it all out, “Should I just keep you here? Or in my office? I hold a great many meetings there, though… I’m not sure I would like them all staring at you in your uniform.” He growled into the next kiss he placed to your skin, “I get jealous too, you know?” Well you did now.

Krennic straightened himself to full height, still supporting your weight his hands travelled down your body agonizingly slow; almost as if he was committing every inch of you to his memory. You already knew he liked details - and he was an architect; so it was Krennic’s business to know detail. Just how much could he remember about a lover? How much of you were you prepared for him to discover about you. His fingertips traces over your ribs, down and across your bellybutton and just below your stomach when he paused and his eyes left you. For a moment you’d quite forgotten that you were in the middle of an ion storm, and you wondered what exactly had dragged his attention away from you. The illumination of his face in the first strike of lightning made you gasp. And all you could think of was those eyes in the rainstorm on Eadu. The first time you’d ever seen him, an image that still haunted you. That was no doubt responsible for you now being naked in his arms like this. You turned to the window to watch the lightning for a moment too, flashing across the purples, blues and pinks of the cloud. “Isn’t it beautiful.” You breathed gently, and you heard him chuckle, “I don’t think you’ve looked in a mirror.” This time he pressed his kiss to your temple, and it was almost sweet. But now Krennic had you distracted by the storm - so his fingers traced lower and before you knew it he was pressing down gently on your clit. Your body gave a lurch into his and he growled again. Moving his fingers into your folds, you moaned head tipped back onto his shoulder, “Krennic…” “I knew you wanted me, Y/N, but like this?” His fingers moved through your wetness, teasing your entrance for a moment, and making you shudder, moaning his name again. “I can see that desire in your eyes wasn’t lying…” Krennic was smirking again as he watched you react to his fingertips, dragging them back towards your clit, “How many times have you been this wet around me, hmm? How many times have you thought of me doing this? Do you touch yourself and think about me? Is that what you do?” “Y-Yes-” Your thoughts were hardly coherent at this point, and as soon as his fingers touched your clit again, in teasing circles, you cried out; “Oh, Krennic, please!” “What else do you do to yourself when you think about me, hm?” He put a little more pressure on your clit as he rubbed it, “What do you think about? Me touching you like this? Or me fucking you? What set you off, hmmm? All that water-cooler chat? Believe me I know what they say... How would you like me to do it, Y/N? Do you want me to try to be gentle, or do you want it rough?” As if you really cared; your body shuddered again and you attempted to help the friction by closing your thighs once more, ache becoming a throb. “Uh uh.” His foot jammed between yours and forced your legs to widen for him, “I don’t like cheaters, Y/N.” You moaned once more as those little circles got faster and rougher, “Please, please! Krennic I’m begging you…” You whined, and your voice shook as you could feel that pleasure building, he couldn’t stop now. You wouldn’t let him, “Do whatever you want to me… just fuck me.” He nipped the top of your ear this time, “The pleasure will be all mine.” This time as the lightning flashed it illuminated your body, and Krennic was right, your dips and curves were flawless, you looked ready for him, you felt ready for him… like you were made for this very moment. Krennic moved his fingertips faster - and this time he pushed his body into yours. Your gasp at his grind into you was for one obvious reason; you could feel how hard he was getting. Oh, fuck... Your body shuddered once more and you mewled, positive that you were even wetter now. He knew it too, by that chuckle. “Oh? You want me don’t you? I know you know how wet you are… You want me so fucking bad…” That husky whisper was driving you crazy and you knew Krennic wasn’t going to let up on it, “You feel so hot, so fuckable… Oh, Y/N, I can’t wait to be inside you, but you’ll have to wait for that.” This time your groan was a little strangled, “That’s it, be a good girl… cum for me.”

If it wasn’t what he was doing to you it was his voice alone that sent that shot of pleasure right through you, burning head to toe with no mercy. You cried out again, but this time it was his first name you used - and you hoped he didn’t care. Panting as you felt the sweat begin to gather on your skin. Your legs shook a little but he held you strong. “Good girl.” He removed his fingertips from your clit, once again pressing a kiss to your neck, “But, you know as well as I that this is hardly over…” You rested your body against his chest for a minute, and he carded his fingers through your hair; it was almost soothing as Krennic twisted it between his fingers, “How about we use the bed now, hmm?”

“…Y…Yes…” You could only hazily agree, would he actually fuck you now? You were throbbing again - sure he’d said he wanted to be inside you, but did he know how much you needed him inside you? “Go on,” Krennic pushed you forward with his hand to the small of your back, you stumbled a little but didn’t fall and he observed your walk, the curves of your ass - the lingering of your arousal on your thighs. “Hands down.” He followed you across the floor - he was aware of how uncomfortable he felt, with heat in just the right places, and the way his pulse was running just to look at you. But he had to take this slow. The goal wasn’t just to bed you, it was to erase every other man from your memory too, so that he was your one and only waking thought.

You had to admit your confusion, but placed your hands out on the sheets in front of you to support your body, Krennic made you keep your feet on the floor and for a second you wondered if this was how he was going to do it. It seemed like a waste of a good bed, but your brain was hardly running your feelings here and that throb between your legs was so desperate for something that you didn’t care how you got it. Instead of hearing him shed clothing, or even just undo his zipper, Krennic’s fingers ran your spine. He really was about to commit every inch of you to memory, you weren’t kidding, before he traced them over your ass. You were half expecting him to slap you, but that didn’t happen either. In fact his fingers went right back to your wetness, and you shivered again; Krennic’s movements this time were less teasing as he pushed his fingers into you; you cried out - he didn’t even bother with one at a time. But at least there was something dulling that ache for a second; although you knew what your body really craved. The storm illuminated everything in the room, and far more regularly than before, as his fingers pumped in and out of you. The hums he was making were satisfied, and part of you wished you could see what they looked like crossing his face. In fact the thought that you might not get to see his face almost disappointed you. But you realised something else, the colours the storm were throwing everywhere, the very sound of it - with how much you enjoyed them anyway - and Krennic here with you, was only serving to turn you on even more. And he noticed. “Oh?” This sounded almost curious, “So lightning makes you even more wet, or is that just me?” You swallowed hard, against the feeling of his fingers stretching you, you were desperate for him to get naked now. “To… be honest, no-one has ever fucked me in a lightning storm.” “Huh. Maybe they should have tried, I figure they’re missing out.” You whined again, “Krennic please… please… I can’t take much more of this… fuck, I… I need you.”

You weren’t sure if Krennic did it because he was listening to your plea, or if he was simply just ready to do it himself, but the next thing you knew he’d removed his fingers from you and flipped your body so you were now on your back, on the bed. And as your eyes locked with his you realised exactly what you would have been missing out on. Although serious, those eyes were so incredibly dark and lust rimmed, and hungry for your body, that you thought you might come undone again right then and there. He placed his thumb delicately against your lips for a second, tracing them, before smirking again, “Open your mouth.” You blinked, but finding no reason not to do what he asked, your lips parted, tongue grazing his fingertip. Krennic immediately smirked, “That’s a good girl.” Before he slid the two fingers that had just been inside you, into your mouth. You moaned gently at the sensation. “I bet you taste so good, don’t you?” You could feel yourself blushing again, unsure exactly how to respond to that besides another muffled moan. He withdrew them, eyes narrowed even though he was smiling.

“And you do exactly what I say…” Krennic drew himself back to height, dragging his eyes down your body and as he did so he reached up to his shoulders, undoing the fastenings for his cape. Oh, you were going to get to watch Krennic undress? You moved to help him, but his eyes raised back to your face - and this time the bright white flash made those eyes of crystal blue let you know that he wanted you to stay absolutely still. “You look ready for me darling. Are you?” You nodded, hoping that the look on your face was as pleading as you thought it was. “Born ready for me…” Krennic’s voice this time sent chills through you with how commanding it was, “Mine.” You watched the cape fall to the floor and wished again for that silky texture to brush against your skin, perhaps you would ask him again later. He undid his tunic and shrugged himself out of it; Krennic wasn’t exactly bothering to put on a show for you - but it still felt like one, running his hands through his hair with a breath out before he undid his shirt. Slower now, button by button as he looked into your eyes, that little teasing smile on his face only made your lips part. This man was so gorgeous. And you were here, in his quarters, in his bed. You out of the many hundreds of women on this Battle Station - and all of them beautiful - Director Orson Krennic wanted you. He threw his shirt behind him too, before settling his hands on his waistband. You studied him for just long enough, he was built more toned than chiselled, and his arms and chest were particularly defined; there was a scar on his left-hand side, just above his heart, and you wondered what the story was with that. Maybe in a quieter moment you would ask, but that was not a story for right now. You traced back to where his fingers were waiting for you to take him all in and this time you bit your lip, you’d already felt him against you but you still weren’t sure you were adequately prepared… Undoing his zip with as much tease as his buttons Krennic let his pants and boxers fall at the same time. Your eyes widened, and you swallowed hard ‘Oh, holy shit...’ Your heartbeat picked up pace and you felt yourself clench greedily just at the sight of him. You bit your lip a little harder and raised your eyes back up Krennic’s body to his face, “I want to let you know - although it sounds like you do know - that every single one of those rumours is SO fucking true.” He smirked, “I might have started one or two of them myself.” You almost laughed, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He gave a shrug, “Well darling, don’t we all want to project the best version of ourselves?” Krennic joined you on the bed, settling himself between your thighs again, pulling your legs around him, “Now I’m going to prove the rest of them true, whilst also letting you in on some things you don’t know.”

You had every right to moan as loud as you did as he pushed into you, feeling completely filled right away. Definitely true - part of you felt you might be smirking very broadly into your coffee in the mornings from now on. Instead of covering your body Krennic stayed in that kneeling position with your legs crossed behind him, hands gripping your thighs and nails digging into your skin. You almost wanted his nails to leave marks, for there to be bruises that lingered for more than just a few days where he gripped you - just to prove it had really happened. If this is a dream please don’t ever let me wake up. He growled as you adjusted to each other, voice husky once more, “You’re so tight.” Your sigh came out a little choked with your breathing as - at first - he moved slow, hands gilding softly over your skin as he lay his palms flat. But he still had enough pressure on you; Krennic was still in control. Right now, being in control was the last thing you were thinking of.

Those slow movements of his were a facade, but they had you already moaning - body tingling as you got used to the feelings of Krennic being inside you. You wondered if you should be trying to be quiet? How many other senior officers had rooms around Krennic’s that could potentially hear this - did Krennic even care? What if they knew it was you though? You weren’t necessarily sure you wanted the reputation that might come with being Krennic’s bed mate, even if it really was only going to be tonight. As if he knew what you were thinking Krennic pushed into you a little harder, causing you to cry out a little louder than before - no point in holding back. “Let me hear you, Y/N. Let me hear those delicious little moans of yours. You can be as loud as you want here, I won’t tell anyone…” He smirked, “You might as well let yourself - because this is going to be the best orgasm of your life, or it’s going to be nothing. I don’t do half measures.” That seemed like an odd form of encouragement, but hot enough to get you mewling again. And he didn’t slow his pace. Instead Krennic dug his nails back into your skin, thrusting into you harder and rougher. You arched your back up, pushing your hips into his to take him deeper and deeper. Usually you weren’t so loud during sex, but with your eyes closed to the ecstasy of it all, each thrust received a moan that steadily grew louder and louder until you were pleading him: “Oh, Krennic… Oh please, more… Harder, Sir, please… please don’t stop…” This was clearly only urging him on as he found another notch in his pace. You might be one for thinking this was the best sex you’d ever had as you opened your eyes to focus on him once more; Krennic’s skin was starting to get that dewy look as sweat started to build, leaving his hair to look a darker shade of grey. And that lightning… oh, that lightning. Watching that storm behind him made the pleasure even more intense. The backdrop was stunning to an already flawless view - what more could you possibly ask for?

His sex was deliciously rough, and it was all you could do to watch his body, the way his muscles moved with each thrust, the tension running from his shoulders, down his arms, through his fingers and the little indents from his nails you could see in your skin. You almost wanted those fingers back inside you again too. Krennic growled as that thought led to you clenching around him: “What are you thinking about?” You looked to his face, obviously you were already flushed, but if it were possible to turn a deeper shade of red you were now. “...Please…” You voice wavered and you realised where this was all heading, “Please Krennic harder… Please I want to- I want to- let me cum for you.” That smirk was just plain dirty, and as he placed one hand under you to raise your hips a little more his next thrust found your sweet spot. You cried out even louder - hit with a shot of pleasure more intense than any you thought you’d ever felt. “Fuck-! Director-! Please!” He chuckled, “I have a first name, Y/N, you can use it.” Did he want you to use it? Did he ask everyone he took to bed to use it? You gasped again as white-hot heat shot through you head to toe and your legs locked around him, pulling him even deeper as you tipped your head back. And he knew as well as you did: “That’s a good girl, that’s my good girl.” Krennic continued to thrust into you until you had to squeeze your eyes shut, head tipped back you very nearly screamed his first name as your body shook and you came undone.

 Your short, sharp pants didn’t really have any time to become afterglow, or some slow paced ‘love making’ for him to ride into his own high. Oh no, Krennic wasn’t finished with you yet - and although he lingered at a slower pace for a little - you could feel yourself building up again, heightened by the climax you had just felt. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and you got the feeling that Krennic was not about to be termed a selfish lover. But a possessive one; your body was his, and he wasn’t finished with you yet. You cried out as he took that pace up again, you could feel him getting harder inside you, every little twitch as he continued those rough thrusts. “You ready for more?” You nodded weakly, moaning again, this would be the third time in one evening. Even if these two were in quick succession. “Yes what?” The commanding tone in his voice and the way he squeezed your thighs a little harder made you shake again, “Yes, Orson. Please… please, baby… I- I’m ready.” As you said his name this time Krennic pushed his body forward so that his hands rested above your shoulders, catching your lips in a harsh kiss. Your hands immediately shot to his arms, over those toned shoulders, and your fingers tangled in his hair. This time his kisses swallowed your moans, and the higher in pitch they got the more he knew you were ready to let go again. With him all over you like this, the scent of that cologne filled your senses. Krennic thrusted into you one last time and let you cry out into his shoulder. He could probably go a little longer - but he’d build you up to that in due time, he couldn’t ruin you on your first time with him. As you clenched around him, just as greedily as before, Krennic growled - hot breath in your ear as your own ecstasy became his. And now you were his too.

He let you continue to embrace him as you both panted, moving his own hands to gently caress your sides, your stomach and your thighs. Although the only sound was your breathing, and you could barely think of anything else, hands carding through his hair and watching those beautiful blue eyes focus on nothing in particular. Until the lighting strike flashed closer to you than before, causing him to look out the window. You followed his line of sight. “It really is gorgeous…” You weren’t sure if that muse was supposed to come out of Krennic’s mouth, but it made you smile. “Mhm… And I need to have sex in storms more often.” He chuckled, turning back to you and kissing your neck, softly, “Well, you know who to call.” Krennic pulled out of you gently, smirking again to see yours and his arousal lingering on your inner thighs. His. Before he lay next to you, eyes still on the storm.

You wondered what the best thing to do now was, as your high unwound. Ironically you didn’t think your body had been this relaxed in a while either. Should you leave? Should you make the decision to leave him before he kicked you out himself? You wondered if that was the polite thing to do. You didn’t know if Krennic was the type to really sleep with someone. When he would be at his most vulnerable. You weren’t sure he would want to show that side of himself to anyone. You decided you would show willing, and would let him know that you would leave if that’s what Krennic wanted - you weren’t about to outstay your welcome. Instead, Krennic did the unexpected and, finally settling down in the sheets, he pulled you into his arms, showering you with delicate kisses and touches. Aftercare... You snuggled into his body, sighing in sleepy content and closed your eyes as he pulled the sheets further around you. Did you dare believe this was happening - No, and yet it was. You were really here, in the Director’s arms. And he wanted you to stay. Krennic pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you could already feel yourself drifting off in his arms: “We’ll review your report in the morning.” *** When you awoke, the lights in his room were up to their brightest day setting. Krennic’s free hand was wandering over your thighs absentmindedly as he lay on his back, your datapad in his other. You tried to concentrate on that small smile on his face, those blue eyes of his, just how good he looked comfortable and relaxed, and out of uniform. You hadn’t noticed the collection of freckles across his chest in the dark of the storm last night either. Suddenly you wanted this moment to last forever, no matter now impossible. This coupled with the travel of his hands, even at this time in the morning, was making you sigh blissfully.

Krennic’s eyes flicked from what he was reviewing to your face as he turned his head slowly. “This report is good. Perfect, even. The ion storm messed with some systems last night, that can’t be helped. But we should all be back online to work later. I agree with your data, consider it reviewed.” Your head tipped curiously. “Systems are down? So…” You bit your lip wickedly, “We don’t have to leave?” Krennic placed your datapad on his bedside table and rolled over, hand moving to between your thighs, he could read that mischievous little smirk of yours perfectly. “Not until much later if I have anything to say about it.” You blinked once slowly, opting to voice your single concern now, before anything got out of hand, it was a whisper that seemed so out of place. But maybe that made it the perfect time. “I don’t want to be just a one-time thing.” Krennic’s eyebrows knitted for a second, before he smiled gently, other hand moving to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb before he tangled his fingers in your hair, bringing you back to his lips. “Trust me, that was never a consideration.”

---

Thank you SO much for reading, oh my gosh I’m slightly emotional over this one. I NEVER thought it’d be this long. And it’s 200. Like... there’s 200 of these things!? 

I didn’t think I would get past one. And it’s ALL because of you guys! 

Thank you for all your love and support - I know I keep saying it but I truly mean it. It means the world to me. 💙💜

[actress4him]

Bonus Whumptober Content

I had no plans originally of continuing the story from Whumptober Day 28. As far as I was concerned, it ended badly and that was that.

But you can all thank @outtacommission , because I was bribed into continuing it!

If you need a refresher on the original chapter, click the link above or read it on AO3.

This is the start of the new content, which ended up being super long, so I broke it up into three short chapters. I’m really excited and nervous to share this. Writing sequels for oneshots that weren’t originally supposed to be continued is...tough. This is the second time I’ve done it, and I always feel like the continuation isn’t as good as the original. But I’m pretty happy with how this turned out, so I hope that you guys enjoy it, too!

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Warnings: (big spoilers!) needles, implied CPR, broken bones, blood, brain damage, paralysis, amputation, panic attacks

.

“Quiznak. Oh, holy quiznak, Keith?”

.

“He’s not breathing. I’ve got no pulse.”

.

“Hold him steady, I’m cutting the back of this chair off so we can get to the shrapnel.”

.

“Come on, Keith. Breathe. Breathe!”

.

“Look, I found this in Red’s first aid kit. I’m a universal donor.”

“Get it hooked up, he needs everything we can give him.”

.

“Please, Keith. Please.”

.

“Shiro, his ribs…”

“I know. They’ll heal.”

.

“Wait! Look!”

“Oh my g-...okay. Okay. Hurry, let’s get him to the Black Lion. I’ll need you to ride with him so you can keep up the transfusion.”

“Right behind you.”

.

.

Consciousness came in spurts. The first time, he surfaced from the never-ending blackness to nothing but cold and pain, and the feeling that his insides were twisted into a big knot and trying their best to exit his body. As he retched, body automatically jerking to try to sit up or roll over and sending even more pain shooting through him, frantic voices surrounded him.

“...reaction...blood…!”

“But...O neg...shouldn’t…”

Somebody scooped him up like a baby and ran, jarring his screaming abdomen with every step, before depositing him onto a semi-soft surface.

“...Galra…”

“...sample...synthesize more…”

The words meant nothing to him. All he knew was pain and nausea, and a blur of lights and movement above him.

Just before he passed out again, there was a sharp prick in his forearm that momentarily drew his attention away from the rest of the pain. He couldn’t find the energy to protest it.

.

.

The second time, voices were the first to filter in, hushed tones that sounded as if they were speaking a foreign language. His eyes fluttered open, but the bright lights overhead made him wince and squeeze them back shut. 

“You’re okay,” someone soothed, the only words he could actually pick out from among the rest. “You’ll be just fine. Go back to sleep, now.”

There was a prick on the back of his hand, and he whimpered involuntarily. But a moment later the nothingness was taking back over, and he gladly slipped underneath.

.

.

The next time he woke, he had no recollection of the first two times, or of anything that happened before, but for some reason he was surprised to be waking up. Somehow, he didn’t think he was going to do so. But here he was, awake. Only, he had no idea where here was.

“Keith? Bud? You with us?”

He knew that voice. Turning his head toward it, he willed his eyes to open, and after a moment, they obeyed. A blur of yellow and brown met him. 

“Hey, bud! It’s good to see those eyes open. Can you hear me?”

Keith blinked, trying to bring the person into focus. Once their features had solidified enough that he could make out dark brown eyes and a smile, he licked his chapped lips and attempted to speak. 

“Hunk.” For some reason the N dragged on for much longer than he had intended, but it was a word, regardless.

“Yeah! That’s me! Oh my gosh, you have no idea how happy I am that you’re awake and okay.”

How long had he been asleep? It must have been a while for Hunk to be worried. And he was pretty sure he felt okay, though maybe a bit numb overall. Maybe he really had been asleep for a long time. It kinda felt like he was waking up after one of those naps you take while you’re sick and your fever breaks in the middle of it.

He licked his lips again, to no avail. “‘hirsty.”

“Yep, yep, I’m sure you are.” Hunk turned and snatched something up off a nearby table, bringing it toward Keith’s face. “Here ya go. Small sips.”

The water was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted in his life. He wanted to gulp it all down, ignoring what he had been told, but Hunk pulled it away after only a couple of seconds. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go get Shiro and Fallenta and let them know you’re awake, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Keith struggled to process that sentence. He didn’t think he recognized one of those names, and he still couldn’t figure out why him being awake was such a big deal. Unless...he had gotten hurt in one of their fights. But then why wouldn’t he be waking up from the pod, not in whatever bed this was?

“Wha...happened?” His words continued to come out strangely, despite his best efforts. Maybe he had been sleeping on his face, because it was one of those numb parts of him that didn’t seem to want to move properly.

Hunk froze at the doorway, turning slowly to face him. “Um...what do you remember?”

It was a good question. Wrinkling his brow, he searched his still half-dazed mind, trying and failing to grasp at the snippets of memories that danced by. It didn’t take long for his head to start hurting, and he shut his eyes, giving up for the moment. “Don’t know. A fight?” He had a vague recollection of being in Red recently. “In the Lions?”

“Um, yeah, well, that’s...one thing that happened.” Hunk seemed nervous, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m gonna go, um, get the others, and they can tell you everything, ‘kay?” Without giving Keith a chance to protest, he disappeared through the door.

Keith sighed, and tested out various parts of his body. Other than most of his right side being curiously numb, and an almost unnoticeable ache in a couple more places, everything seemed to be working properly. He had been in Red right before waking up there...right? Maybe she could tell him what was going on.

Only when he closed his eyes and reached for their connection, he came up empty. There was nothing there. No hum, no purr, nothing. His heart leapt into his throat. Red! Red, where are you? What if something had happened to her? What if she was gone? What if he had done something to make her reject him, and he wasn’t even a paladin anymore, what if that’s what Hunk didn’t want to tell him? If he wasn’t a paladin anymore, then he’d...he’d be nothing. Useless. There would be absolutely no reason for him to be in the Castle anymore, in space at all. The other paladins would take him back to Earth and dump him off, and he’d have no one and nothing yet again.

The door opened, and Keith shot upright, ignoring the way it made his head swim and that ache in his ribs twinge. “I can’t feel Red! I can’t...what happened? Where’s Red?”

“Hey! Hey, shh, Keith, it’s okay!” Shiro was across the room in an instant, sitting down on the side of the bed and grasping Keith’s shoulders in both his hands. “I need you to calm down for me, okay? I’ll explain, but I need you to take deep breaths.”

Drawing in one such breath to appease the man, Keith glanced around the room, taking in Hunk’s worried expression and the alien stranger that stood on the other side of his bed. “Somebody please just tell me what's going on.” The words were still slurred, which was getting more frustrating by the second. “Why’m I here?”

He hated the look that Shiro shot up at the alien before catching his eyes again. They were treating him like a fragile child. Even when he was a child, he had gotten more bad news in his few years than most adults did in their whole lives, so it wasn’t like he didn’t always expect more. 

“You were in an accident,” Shiro finally explained, still speaking far too slowly and softly. “You and Red got hit with a zaiforge cannon and crashed into a nearby planet. Do you remember?”

Keith already knew he didn’t, so he wasn’t going to waste time searching his memory when he still wanted answers. “Where’s Red? Is she okay?”

Offering a sympathetic smile, Shiro squeezed his shoulder with his flesh hand. “She’s in rough shape. All her systems are shut down right now. But Pidge and Coran and Hunk have been working on her, and they’re optimistic that everything can be fixed. With time.”

Letting all his breath out with a whoosh, Keith slumped over forward. It was simultaneous good news and bad news. Red hadn’t rejected him, or at least he didn’t think so. But he hated that she was so badly hurt. “I wanna see her.”

Shiro’s smile twitched up a little higher. “I know. But first, we need to check on you. You’ve been unconscious for quite a while. Everything seems to have healed up alright, but there were some things that couldn’t be tested while you were out.”

As if this was their cue, the alien - an objectively pretty, willowy creature with mauve fur, four long, thin arms, and a myriad of long, thin fingers on each hand - stepped forward. Their voice was light and feminine, and had a lilting accent that reminded him of Lance when he fell into his native tongue.

“I am going to give you some simple instructions to follow, okay?”

Keith frowned. “Who ‘re you?”

“Oh, yes, right.” Shiro indicated the newcomer with one hand. “This is Fallenta. She’s a Tellimite. They’re one of the most medically advanced species in the universe. We wanted to make sure you had the best care possible, so Allura brought us to Tellima as soon as we had you in the pod. Fallenta has been...indispensable.”

His explanation only caused Keith more confusion. If he had been in a pod, then why did he need a doctor? And again, why was he in some bed now? 

Seeming to sense his questions, Fallenta smiled and settled down opposite Shiro. “There were some...complications from your injuries. Coran and Shiro made the right call by placing you into a healing pod right away, knowing that it was the only way to save your life, but that meant that your bones that were broken could not be reset before healing. One of my jobs was to correct this once your abdomen wound was no longer life threatening.”

“Yes, you actually had two different stints in the pod,” Shiro nodded. His brow furrowed. “Well, three, if you count the time that your body rejected the blood Pidge had given you and started trying to shut down. Thankfully, Coran had those samples he took from all of us at the beginning, and was able to synthesize some more of yours.”

Keith couldn’t stand the troubled expression on Shiro’s face, especially since he had been the one to put it there. Lifting his left arm, he gently squeezed his brother’s elbow. “I’m okay now.”

Shiro smiled, but there was a sheen to his eyes. “You have no idea how relieved I am about that.”

“Your cognition seems to be just fine,” Fallenta said, “and losing memory of the traumatic event is not uncommon. There are a few other things I need to check, though.”

She spent the next few minutes shining a flashlight into his eyes, asking him some questions about things that happened prior to the accident, getting him to remember a short list of objects, and observing his reactions to various movements and sounds. All of it led Keith to believe that it was his brain being tested, and it made him nervous. No one would tell him anything else, though, simply repeating that they would explain everything shortly.

It seemed to be going well, though, and everyone was smiling and calm, so he tried not to let it get to him. Until Fallenta moved on to testing sensations. She started on his left arm, lightly touching it with her finger, then poking her claw into his skin, then digging in her knuckle. Everything felt like it should.

“Alright, the right arm, now.” She smiled at him and held his gaze, but after a moment of nothing further happening, her smile faded into a neutral expression. Another moment, and he was wondering why she hadn’t done the test yet. 

“Do you feel any of this, Keith?”

“What?” He looked down, and her finger was on his forearm. As he watched, she moved it up and down his arm, tapping lightly. He swallowed hard. “It's...it's been really numb e’er since I woke up. My face an’ leg, too.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shiro stiffen. “What does that mean?”

Fallenta smiled again, and as nice of a smile as it was, he was beginning to hate it. “Let’s complete the tests, and I will be able to tell you more. Can you feel this?” 

This time he watched as she pricked him with her claw, and to his relief, there was a faint jolt of pain. “A little. It's muted, though.”

“That’s good. And this?” She used her knuckle that time, and again, the pressure was faint.

“Same. What's wrong with my arm?” he demanded, glaring first at her, then Shiro. “Why can’t I talk right?”

“Have patience -”

“No!” Keith yanked his arm away from her with far more effort than should have been required. “I'm out of patience! Tell me what's wrong!”

Shiro put a hand on Fallenta’s shoulder, nodded at her, then reached forward and took Keith’s hand. “When we found you…” He paused, his jaw clenching and eyes flicking away for a split second before he seemed to steel himself to continue. “Your heart had stopped. It’s impossible to say how long you had been like that. I was able to get it started again, but it took a few minutes. So your brain…” Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out in a sigh. “It was without oxygen for several minutes, at the least. Brain damage has been a concern from the very start. When I said you have no idea how relieved I am that you’re okay...it was possible that you wouldn’t ever wake up. Or if you did, that you wouldn’t be able to function at all.” An errant tear slipped out, and he dashed it away with his metal hand. “But you’re here. You’re awake, and you can speak and think and...and it’s gonna be okay. I promise, it’s gonna be okay.”

Brain damage? The words hit him like a blow to the chest. That meant his arm...his face...they weren’t just numb, they were...they were…

He ripped his hand from Shiro’s grip. “How can you say it's gonna be okay? Do you hear me? I soun’ stupid! An’ my arm...how’m I supposed to fight an’ fly if I can barely move my arm?”

“But you still have some movement and sensation,” Fallenta broke in. “That is very good news. It means that, with physical therapy, you can regain even more use. You can even have speech therapy to help you build up your facial muscles.”

“Speech therapy?” He almost laughed at that. “We’re in the middle of a war, we don’ have time for speech therapy!”

Shiro’s hand landed on his leg. “We’ll make it work, Keith.”

“No. No.” He shook his head harshly. “Get off. Get off me, I need...” Flailing his one good hand toward Shiro and Fallenta, he gritted his teeth against the tears that wanted to fall. The weight on either side of the bed moved as the two of them stood. “I need some air. I need...” Red, that’s what he needed. He reached for the corner of the blanket that covered his legs. “I’m gonna -”

“Keith, wait!”

Shiro and Hunk both lunged, but it was too late. He had already flipped the blanket to the side, revealing what lay underneath.

Or rather, what didn’t lay underneath.

He was gonna be sick.

His leg. It was…it was missing from the knee down.

Keith screamed.

The next minutes or hours were a blur of tears and pain in his chest and breaths that wouldn’t come. He vaguely recalled Shiro being in front of him, his lips moving but no sound coming out. He vaguely recalled thrashing and slamming his head into the wall behind him. 

After that, though, the nothingness took back over.

Next

[spockandawe]

Shen Jiu/Tianlang-jun

Or, I came here for the dunking on binghe vibe, lingered for the aesthetic, and then tripped accidentally into an au that’s actually really compelling me hard that I want to figure out more

(yes it’s the 2k thing that hit me out of nowhere, but i wrote that out and it didn’t scratch the itch, so here we are)

(I always use so many words, let’s just have a cut now)

My general premise as, theoretically, an author: This is set in the canonverse timeline, after Luo Binghe merges the demon realm and human realm. Probably not long after, because things are still VERY much in confusion, both societies are still reeling, unrest is rampant, and Luo Binghe is only just just just starting to figure out that no, he still doesn’t feel very fulfilled. Turning two realms upside down gives Zhuzhi-lang an opportunity to finally get his hands on a dew flower seed to grow a body for Tianlang-jun (he is a patient boy). Shen Jiu is still alive, though honestly, I don’t know how much Luo Binghe bothers keeping him conscious anymore, and there’s my stage.

What I arrived here from was thinking about how I characterized Tianlang-jun for my Shen Yuan/Tianlang-jun fic, and how I’m really leaning into his romantic nature and fond, un-pushy approach to relationships. When I thought about writing those two characters dunking on a stallion novel together, I was like ‘oh noooo, he would have been so disappointed in bingge’ (which adds to an already emotionally complicated situation, what with him having a son at all) and then I was like ‘haha, being disappointed in bingge, something for him and shen jiu to bond over’

And then I was like ‘wait, but seriously--’

So, I keep seeing those shipping memes going around where people describe their favorite dynamics, and I probably won’t ever draw one myself, but a shipping vibe I love is a character in a lonely downward spiral being pulled out of the disaster zone and emotionally reattached to the world. That’s what I’m writing in the sy/tlj, honestly. A vibe I love even more, but which is even rarer, is when two characters are in those downward spirals, and latch onto each other in an intense, codependent, unhealthy way.... and somehow manage to salvage something beautiful from the situation.

Anyways, Shen Jiu and Tianlang-jun.

When I was trying to figure out how to ship them, one of the first questions when I’m sussing out an unusual pair without other fanworks is: Why do they care about each other? And the more I thought about them, the more I realized that they’re each really, really strongly in the mold of the other one’s Favorite Person, who they’d since lost. Shen Jiu is a cold, aloof, untouchable, beautiful person. Tianlang-jun is a quieter person, very pleasant, but terrifyingly strong in some ways, and soft and ruthless at unexpected times. But neither one is exactly a replacement goldfish, which is good, because losing their favorite person was pretty traumatic for them in different ways. Shen Jiu plays more mean than Su Xiyan did, and Tianlang-jun is more eccentric and romantic than Yue Qingyuan was.

Logistically, the idea that Tianlang-jun hates his son made it easy for me to bring the two of them together. In this universe especially, Tianlang-jun feels a lot of scorn towards Luo Binghe, but Luo Binghe is still very strong. He doesn’t have much in the way of weaknesses, and I think even super-traumatized, super-bitter Tianlang-jun would turn up his nose at the idea of attacking Luo Binghe through his wives. But stealing away Shen Jiu, that’s a person who Luo Binghe is almost as ““close”” to as he is to the harem, this is a person with pretty significant knowledge of Luo Binghe’s childhood, and it’s a powerful person with a major reason to hold a grudge against Luo Binghe himself. 

(I don’t think Tianlang-jun has much of a plan, necessarily, when he kidnaps Shen Jiu, the same way he didn’t have much of a plan when he was aiming to merge the worlds together. Like, yes, there’s this big goal, but why? and then what? I’m not going to go off on a digression about this, but I think it is very much a shitty, shitty plan, and that Shen Jiu is not going to be stoked once he figures out he was kidnapped from Luo Binghe because *shrug?*)

So what I want. Emotionally. Is where the two of them do kind of latch onto each other in a replacement goldfish sort of way, but where that kind of closeness really pulls them into sync in a way where they end up attached WAY more strongly than they ever intended to begin with. And also, both of them are dealing with some weird dysphoric feelings (one with four new prosthetic limbs, one with a decaying body) and are trying to power through them by using their bodies as a tool they use, not as residences they inhabit. And I think that Shen Jiu in particular is leaning into his time in the Qiu household in a bad way, and using himself as an incentive to try to nudge Tianlang-jun into doing things he wants. Love me some dysfunction like that, especially if people start having Regrets and/or Feelings later.

I think.... part of the reason I cut off my fic where I did was that Shen Jiu getting his tongue back is going to really, really, really start reshaping their dynamic. In the fic, Tianlang-jun is reading things into his deliberately-vague gestures that aren’t necessarily there, or just seeing what entertains him to see, but with a voice? Shen Jiu is a man with opinions, and he’s so, so, so completely out of fucks to give. When they start engaging with each other for real, they have to start recognizing each other as people, and not as proxyfucking substitutes for Su Xiyan and Yue Qingyuan.

Now, why I didn’t write that whole fic from the beginning is because it’s almost gotta be plot-intensive. Luo Binghe is not going to be happy that Shen Jiu is gone, he’s going to be very interested in getting him back, and if he gets his hands on him, it’s going to be... ugly. Shen Jiu is aware of that, and makes Tianlang-jun aware of that, but Luo Binghe is so hilariously overpowered that it’s going to be HARD to keep them both out of Luo Binghe’s hands without just making them quiet hermits in some corner of the world. And they can’t be quiet hermits, because otherwise Tianlang-jun would never have stolen Shen Jiu in the first place :P 

I am still really, really, really tempted to write it, because like, just imagine Luo Binghe coming for Shen Jiu in his dreams, and all that trauma crashing back into him, and Luo Binghe digging into every old emotional wound, and Shen Jiu trying to cope. And if dream abilities run in the blood, then Tianlang-jun isn’t completely useless either, and I do very much like the idea that protagonist or not, Tianlang-jun is capable of going toe to toe with his son. The picture of them fighting a battle across Shen Jiu’s dreamscape is just... *chef kiss*

(especially because if luo binghe gets into shen jiu’s head, he’ll totally use yue qingyuan against him, and if tianlang-jun gets involved, he’ll use su xiyan against luo binghe, and luo binghe will probably try to use her against him, and shen jiu is perfectly happy to try to make binghe hurt over how binghe’s dad chose him instead of binghe, and it will be so, so ugly all around)

The trouble with this would be knowing where it was heading :P The quiet hermit ending wouldn’t be a bad fit for what I want for the characters at all, but it would be hard to achieve with Luo Binghe still alive, and I still don’t know if I want him dead, or how I would even make that happen. 

But what I do want, even if it only takes shape in one-shots of scattered scenes, is two exhausted, traumatized characters curling up into each other, without any emotions, no emotions involved, definitely not, and accidentally getting super entangled in each other’s hearts. The kind of relationship with a lot of intensity and need and passion, and virtually no healthy coping mechanisms to be seen. I want ‘Separation Anxiety: The Musical.’ I want Shen Jiu with angry clinging, and extra anger if anyone mentions the clinging. I want Tianlang-jun deflecting and deflecting away from his past and his emotions. And part of the reason I’m not sure if I want Binghe dead, is that I want to see if I can get them to a point where one or both of them has a choice between hurting Binghe or helping their partner, and they choose their partner instead.

[pallasperilous]

Occursus

Castiel/Dean Winchester Gen/Teen, 4341 words 15x20 coda  AO3 version “The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” Cas says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” 

Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two. “Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes. “It was a poor analogy. I apologize.” “So what’s a better one?” Castiel drums his fingers for a second. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.” “Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

It’s half past midnight by the time Dean gets another run at Cas.

Granted, what the fuck does half past midnight even mean here, where time is as free as tap water? Why does anybody even bother? For all it matters, Dean could set his watch to eleventy minutes past twenty o’ nope and still never miss last call.

Then again, somebody felt it necessary to invent the idea of Tuesday in the first place, and Dean’s not gonna volunteer himself for the task of replacing it with something better. What’s important is that he’s survived (or rather, he hasn’t survived) a battery of poignant moments and tearful reunions. He and Sam hugged out burdens registering in the triple digits. They even had a little fight, pretty much for the fun of it, while Ellen fucking Harvelle watched them over the bar with her eyes shining. She still charged them, though.

Right at the beginning of the party Dean and Castiel had their eyes-across-the-room thing, followed by the same magnetic, exhausted embrace they’ve shared on just about every plane of reality now. Dean supposes he could ask Cas for a nickel tour of the Empty just so they could hit for the cycle, but he’d really rather not. Sam let them eke out a few gruff, tear-choked monosyllables before diving in, sweeping Cas up in a bear hug and laughing like a fucking kid. Dean doesn’t push it, because it’s been longer for Sam, after all. Or something.

 And now it’s quiet, just the jukebox and the clink of glasses back in the kitchen, a few folks murmuring in booths. It might be dark outside, it might not; it’s waiting on Dean’s opinion before it commits to anything. And so is Cas, who is standing in the warm glow of the jukebox, hands in his pockets.

 Dean walks up, leans against it, bottle still dangling from one hand.

“C’mon, sunshine. I’ll show you yours, you show me mine.”

Cas looks up and into Dean’s eyes with the wary, elegant patience of a deer. “What is it that you would be showing me, Dean?”

Dean gives him a long, languid blink and bites his lip, and Castiel lags for half a second before rolling his own eyes. “I see death hasn’t refined your sense of humor.”

“Nope. Guess the billionth time aint the charm.”

Cas remains stonefaced, which means a corresponding you dumbass blush starts crawling up the sides of Dean’s neck. The jukebox switches records like it’s making a suggestion.

“I’m gonna sit down outside,” Dean says. “C’mon and sit down with me. There’s a patio somewhere, right? Ellen was always talking about adding one out back. No way she hasn’t bossed somebody into buildin’ it.”

“There’s a patio,” Cas says, taking his hands out of his pockets.

 Heaven’s patio is pretty nice; twenty square feet, some scattered picnic tables, fences covered in ivy and string lights. It still smells like fresh pine boards. There’s even a fire pit, which seems kinda bougie for the Roadhouse, but hell with it, it’s warm and pretty, and since when did pretentious people get to lay claim to “a hole with a fire in it”? There’s no moon overhead, and so the Milky Way is giving them the full monty — the runnelled spine of it, the ribcage packed with galaxies.

“Are they all alive?” Dean asks. The warmth from inside leaks out of his collar, wisps away.

“Who?”

Dean points up. “The stars. They always make a big deal about how most of the stars you can see from Earth have been dead for millions of years by the time we get the light from ‘em. That still true here? Or is everything on auto-renewal?”

“That’s a very complicated question,” Cas says, not looking up, only at Dean. He does that a lot, Dean knows, but it turns out to mean something different than what Dean had always assumed, which was ironically pretty similar to what it actually meant, but was reassuringly unactionable and therefore unfuckupable.

“I’m a very complicated guy,” Dean says.

Castiel smiles at that. “I don’t actually know the answer,” he admits. “And it would take an extremely long time to investigate. There are some other things I’d rather do first.”

“What, you can’t just call the kid for directory assistance?”

Castiel lets a good-humored sigh. “Like many young people these days, Jack prefers to avoid the phone.”

This is a solid riff, and Dean respects it. He picks the table closest to the fire and takes a bench and Cas sits next to him, instead of opposite. Dean thought he managed to break him of this habit a few years ago, but here all things are made whole again.

“So what,” Cas says, without a single molecule of playfulness or seduction, “is it that you want us to show each other?”

“Yeah, I was…it was a dumb joke. But I mean it, just not in a ‘playing doctor’ way.”

Castiel frowns, tightens his lips; the firelight throws a fluttering shadow across his face.

“I mean…Christ.” Dean takes a medicinal slug of his dwindling beer. “I don’t really look like this anymore either, right?” And he gestures at his usual shitshow personal presentation, which death has also noticeably failed to refine.

Castiel frowns, smoothes his hand across the surface of the table. “This is a corporeal world, Dean. It operates on a different set of rules, but your body here is no more of an illusion than it was on earth.”

“Seriously?” Dean ponders a second, squints through the dim light at his fingernails, at the high-resolution grime contained therein. “Jesus, that sounds like a lot of work. At least compared to Holodeck Heaven.”

“It is. But we didn’t build this place to be a...a…doorprize. It’s a real world,” Castiel enthuses, looming forward. “It’s the one that should have been created for all of you in the first place.” He pauses, glances down. “For all of us.”

Dean shrugs. “Okay, so no holograms. I’ll keep all that in mind next time Charlie tries to convince me to go skydiving.”

Castiel snorts, but not in pure aggravation, so Dean feels like he’s finally got a point on the board. “What I’m sayin’ is…physical or not, this place has different rules, right? So could I look at you without my eyeballs exploding? The…you know, the angel parts of you. Not just your vessel,” and Dean fwippies his hand at Cas to indicate that true beauty is contained within and Dean is completely indifferent to the fact this dork-ass alien managed to bodysnatch a guy who’s never dipped below an 8.5.

“It isn’t a vessel anymore. We can create our own bodies, now.”

“Peachy,” Dean clips, because that shit is a little late coming off the line.

Castiel sighs. “You could see me in that form without coming to harm. But you should know that I don’t consider it any more a reflection who I am than this form. Not anymore.”

Dean rolls the bottle towards him, nudges a knuckle. “You’re a real boy now, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Castiel says, and smiles a smile so small that Dean would need a microscope to figure out if it’s pleased or pained.

So Dean thwacks the bottle down on the totally-real table and claps his totally-real hands. “Well then let’s go. Hit me with that angel weirdness. If we’re gonna do this, I gotta taste all thirty-one flavors.”

Castiel smiles a little more convincingly, but it still doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are really only the two,” he says, and holds his palms out to the warmth of the fire.

“Great, then we’ll be done in time to catch Letterman. Then if you’re good maybe you can help me shimmy out of this thing.”

Cas cocks his head. “Out of which thing?”

“This super real heavenly meat-suit, dude. It’s not fair if only one of us gets naked. Peep show has to go both ways. I see your angel-face, you see my soul.”

Cas looks stricken, like Dean is asking to suck on his toes next to a playground. “I mean, unless that’d fuck you up,” Dean adds.

“No,” Castiel replies, a little absently. “It wouldn’t fuck me up. But it…wouldn’t really accomplish anything, either.”

“What, no soul kink? That’s bullshit and you know it. You love this crap.”

Castiel replies, “Your soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” with the easy confidence of a regular latte order. With the same uncanny, 2 Blessed 2 B Stressed face he had when Dean plowed Ruby’s knife hilt-deep into Jimmy Novak’s sternum, that he had when the Empty collapsed him  like a carcass in an acid bath.

That face shuts Dean right the fuck up, because it sends him skipping backwards into that fucking basement, where his phone is buzzing and the gritty concrete chill of the floor is seeping through his jeans into the useless meat of his legs and leeching into the hot, wet channels of his piece of shit heart.

Turns out you can work up a good little panic attack in heaven, which seems like a significant oversight.

From a million miles away he feels Cas’s warm, dry palm slide over the back of his hand –– there’s a ring there now that Dean lost down a motel sink drain ages ago, is nobody spotting continuity errors here?—then Cas’s hand tightens on his and it feels like a Xanax kicking in. (The good kind, direct from the hot nurse with the little paper cup, not the kind you get in a from a shady burnout at a truckstop, that’s been ground up with baking soda or benadryl and carefully remolded, as if you could possibly give that much of a shit when you’re freaking out bad enough to buy Xanax at a truckstop.)

Point being, he calms the fuck down.

Cas has good hands. They can do a lot of impressive shit, and they look nice doing it. They don’t look like –– they’ve never looked like –– they belong to somebody whose main job is destroying people, places, or things. They’re hands that how to play the cello, or make tables from reclaimed wood, or give soapy, encompassing handjobs in the shower on cold evenings.

“It’s been years, though,” Dean rasps, not looking up yet. “I was a kid when you got me out of Hell, Cas. I’ve done a lot of shit since then. Maybe souls get stretch marks.”

Castiel’s hand tightens on his, clamps it down on the table. “I’ve always been able to see it.”

“Okay,” Dean mumbles, but Cas keeps on going –

“The only time I couldn’t see any part of your soul was when I was without grace, and I promise you that was one of the greatest deprivations imaginable.”

Dean snorts, looks away, but his hand is still on lockdown. “Worse than going hungry, huh?”

“Much.”

“Hey, what about Sam? Or, hell, fucking Donatello. They both were both walking around minus their creamy filling, and you didn’t say boo.”

Cas shrugs. “I can’t see their souls under ordinary circumstances.”

“So what, mine’s just extra loud, or day-glo, or what?”

“It’s both of those things, but that isn’t why,” Cas answers, and the boy is downright wry.

Dean tugs his hand out, raps his knuckles against the wood. “Okay, so stop bein’ coy and tell me before I get a complex. And if you say it’s because of love or some shit, I’m bailing to Rowena’s.”

“You infected me,” Cas says.

“Uh,” says Dean.

The fire pops and a log shifts; Cas glances over at the kerfuffle, absently lifts his fingers to his chin like he’s looking for an old scar. “In Hell, when I retrieved you…I had to grip your raw soul. I was meant to wear a gauntlet, so I wouldn’t be burned.”

Dean snickers. “You’re telling me you were supposed to be wearing a soul condom. What happened, you get too excited and forget to suit up? It’s okay, I know I’m a lot to take in.”

Castiel purses his lips. “No, I was properly armored. But my arm was torn off in combat shortly before I reached you.”

“Ouch.”

“Ouch,” Cas agrees. “I didn’t have time to retrieve the arm or its protection from the pit, so I had to grow a new one very quickly.”

Dean really should’ve switched to whiskey before starting this. “What, you didn’t pack a spare?” He wheezes.

“Ordinarily, yes, I would have had the resources, but I was equipped very lightly for that mission. It was a raid, not a siege. You understand the difference.”

“Sure, yeah, you left your emergency arms in the trunk. So you just popped out a new one. No big.”

“It was a big. Your soul was close enough that it forced me to grow a human arm, instead of a much quicker and more powerful extensor.”

“Okay, uh,” Dean pinches at the bridge of his nose, “there’s a lot to unpack there.”

“What part of it confuses you?”

“I dunno, the bit where apparently angels are I guess heavenly octopuses,”

“The plural in the Greek is octopodes,” Cas interjects, not without pleasure.

Dean glowers. “Or the part where you can apparently swap in different drill bits,” Dean continues,

“Mm,” Cas notes, careful not to open his mouth,

“Or that I, like, accidentally bullied you into growing a person arm,” and Dean pauses for breath here, which Cas evidently takes as permission to dive in with more Planet Earth commentary.

“The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” he says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two.

“Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes.

“It was a poor analogy. I apologize.”

“So what’s a better one?”

Castiel drums his fingers for a second, listens to the fire pop in its little cage. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.”

“Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

“What I’m trying to avoid saying,” Castiel sighs, “is that you rubbed off on me.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. That’s fair. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to say that around me, either.”  He lays a couple little pats on Cas’s hand. “Lookit you, though, seeing around that corner. I’m proud of you, man. That would’ve totally flipped your breaker back in the day.”

“Just one of the many ways you have reshaped me, Dean,” Cas says, with warm sarcasm.

“Alright, so you rawdogged me, I whammied you. Chocolate, peanut butter, peanut butter, chocolate.”

Cas’s forehead wrinkles in skepticism. “I still prefer the cockroach. But some part of your soul injected itself into one of my more exposed frequencies. Under different circumstances, I would’ve stopped and excised the affected area before it spread, but. I was being pursued, and the mission had taken much longer than any of us anticipated.”

“Us? Thought it was just you down there.”

Cas looks vaguely offended, straightens and folds his arms like he just remembered he’s giving a deposition. “No, of course not. Michael assigned sixty-six angels in eleven groups of six, each escorted to the field by a seraph. We struck simultaneously at six different areas in perdition. From there we dispersed to individual targets –– to cause as much chaos as possible in order to help obscure the object of our mission, and to increase the odds that one of us would actually find you.”

“And you were the lucky winner.” Dean pushes down a touch of sick shame at the thought of it — he’d been coiled up like a snake around somebody else’s torment, anesthetized by it. It was one of the random rags of infernal time where his own pain decreased in proportion to how much he dealt out, and that was the closest thing Hell had to a Friday night.

“I was,” Castiel nods. “I took some liberties with my assignment,” he adds, squinting. “I flattered myself that I shared a special affinity with The Righteous Man.”

“That guy always sounded like kind of a cunt to me,” Dean notes. “You know, not withstanding the fact that I’m him.”

Castiel shrugs. “I found you, and I did what was necessary to save you, and my siblings did what was necessary to save me.” A little falter enters his voice. “Only twelve of us returned from that mission.” Cas looks up, out, away. A dove coos somewhere nearby of the Roadhouse; did it have a run-in with the windshield of an eighteen wheeler one day and show up here, Dean wonders, or does heaven make its own birds from scratch? That’s gotta be a softball compared to whether Betelgeuse is still open for business.

Castiel waits until the bird shuts up, then says, “Of those twelve surviving angels, I personally murdered nine, in everything that followed.”

After a moment Dean says “Yeah,” with practiced neutrality. He’s got some similar tallies, written in Sharpie on the back of his eyelids.

Cas sighs and his attention comes back down to the table. “By the time I received the authority to restore your soul to your body, the infection had spread almost past the point of containment. That’s why I resisted taking a vessel at first. I worried that occupying a human form would speed up the process.”

“Hey now. I thought you showed up naked because you thought I’d be one of those special people,” Dean quips, “Who can handle angel stuff without going all kibbles ’n bits.”

“That was only a partial truth.”

Dean tips the beer bottle in salute. “You’re a real special flavor of asshole, Cas.”

“So I’ve been told. I was right, though. When I took Jimmy as a vessel, I contracted — condensed — myself very severely. The infection had a much shorter distance to travel to reach all of my extremities, and a human form was the most hospitable environment possible.”

“You got a raging case of the Deans.”

Cas’s head kicks back in a laugh that kinda surprises them both. “Yes,” he says, grinning. “I did. I was very displeased, and very concerned I’d be found out and judged unfit for duty. And I very much was. Unfit, that is. Though I was not found out.”

“C’mon, never? You went rogue on the company.”

“Uriel suspected. Naomi certainly detected it later, as did Metatron. But in the moment, no. The Host’s attention was focused on the Apocalypse ahead, not on debriefing a mission that was considered a success. After the Cage was closed, I had too much influence to come under that level of scrutiny.”

“Hmh.” Dean realizes he’s been systematically picking down the label on the beer bottle, so he sets it on the ground before he gets sticky little shreds everywhere. “So I gotta ask. My little souvenir, the handprint. That’s where you grabbed me, with your lil…Mister Potato Head human arm?”

“It is.”

“If I’m the one who infected you, how come I’m the one who got burned?”

“My hand didn’t burn you.”

“Well, it ain’t fingerpaint.”

“Your own soul burned it, as it flowed out of your flesh and into mine. It burned until the moment when I finally released you from my grip. My hand healed itself; your arm did not.” Castiel gives a thin scoff. “I hadn’t planned to leave you interred.”

“Oh, no? Well that’s nice to hear, you know, a decade after the fact. I still have nightmares about that shit.”

Castiel winces. “It’s no excuse, but I was in a great deal of…the equivalent of pain. It took an immense effort to break off the inflow of your soul, and when I did manage it, I was thrown quite a ways by the recoil. By the time I recovered enough to return, you were already looting a gas station,” He finishes, dryly.

“Yeah, well, Dad didn’t think much of leisure as a virtue. Also I was thirsty, because I’d just crawled out of my own grave.”

“And I was distracted, because I’d just fought my way out of the inferno while being digested by a demented human soul.”

“You wanna call it even?”

Cas lifts his brows. “If you don’t mind.”

 There is a long, dark breath, during which their little smiles fade. 

 “So, all that,” Dean says, because he’s a fucking coward.

“All that,” says Cas, because he isn’t.

 Dean clears his throat. “That means you can see my soul-stuff 24/7, huh?”

Castiel slides one leg up onto the bench, shifts to sit astride it, like he’s maybe about to deliver an after-school PSA on the Real Deal About Drugs. “I can always see myself, and extensions of my self. And since your soul made itself into an integral part of me…I can see you.”

“I take it that’s not exactly in the manual.”

“No. I didn’t entirely understand it at first — for a long time, I convinced myself it was because you were designed to be a celestial vessel, and that I had been destined to save you from Hell.”

That thin, acidic feelings starts to rise up in Dean’s chest again. “Do you…” A dry swallow reflex grabs his throat. “Hm. Fuck.”

“What?” Cas asks, scooting forward. An angel. Scooting. What a world. “You can ask me anything, Dean. I hope we’re both past being offended.”

“Have you ever thought that. This whole deal. Our…thing.” Dean lets out a breath. “The way you feel about me. The way I feel about you.”

“Do I worry that its only basis is our shared material?”

Dean licks his lips, works a jaw muscle, forces out a nod. 

Cas frowns, sets one elbow up against the table, then lets his head tip to the side. “Why do you love Sam?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I get it, he’s my brother. We got shared material, too. But we’re not talking genetics.”

“Genes were the initial basis of your love for Sam. But you share half as much material with Adam. Do you love him fifty percent as much as you do Sam?”

“One, love doesn’t work that way and you know it, and two, fucking of course not. I barely know the guy, and what I’ve seen didn’t exactly blow me away.” Not that the poor dumb kid ever really had a chance. “Sam’s Sam, he’s earned it a million times over just by bein’ him.”

“Then you understand.”

“But Cas, man…I…” Dean laughs, which is an abbreviated form of screaming, “I treated you like shit.”

Cas nods. “You did.”

“Okay, the rules say you’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“But the balance remains in your favor. Dean, are you genuinely afraid that you — care for me…”  and Dean can hear the FCC live-bleep in that one, like does his total cowardice have a special color Cas can see with his soul-o-vision? “Only out of some compulsion?”

“No,” Dean says, to the great surprise of his frontal cortex, which was busy kicking the shit out of itself. “No,” he says again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, that that answer actually came out of him and entered the living air between them.

Then the wave is rolling towards him and he enters that slim moment of body-physics where you either take a lungful and commit to diving under the break, or you kick out against the undertow, arch your back to meet the blow, and let yourself be flown all the way up to the waiting shore––

“No,” Dean says, “I love you.” And he chokes up a little, first at the release of saying it, then at how much of exactly jack-shit it changes anything so what was he even scared of, and then at the look on Cas’s face: how he’s frozen. Like that dog from that video, the one that loved tennis balls so goddamn much that his owner bought him a thousand fucking tennis balls and dumps them out all at once and the dog absolutely stalls the fuck out, just seconds on end of underspecced dog-brain hang time before he finally snaps back to reality and loses his absolute shit scrabbling all over the porch.

Castiel comes back online with a little choking noise of his own, and a kind of awkward scrabble for Dean’s hand.

“I have for a long time,” Dean continues, because apparently he’s continuing, “I’ve loved you for fucking ages, Cas. In people years, anyway, I’m sure that mean’s fuckall to somebody who’s a zillion––”

“I don’t,” Cas says thickly, “really give a damn about the age difference, Dean,” and cracks into a chuckle.

“So how come you never knew it?” Dean asks, feeling freedom turn into a hunger or something like vertigo. “If you can see my soul, how could you not know?”

Cas shrugs, a bit helplessly.

“Seriously,” Dean laughs, “how did I manage to hide that shit so well? Sammy found every nudie mag I ever shoplifted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’ve never actually been able to hide anything from me.”

Dean scoffs. “C’mon, man. I snowed you plenty, or else we woulda had this conversation dirtside a long time ago.”

“Whatever I missed, Dean…it wasn’t because you succeeded at hiding it,” Castiel says, softly. He takes a slow, shaky breath, and meets Dean’s eyes with a smile. He lifts a hand to Dean’s face, bone and flesh on flesh and bone. “I just loved you enough to look away.”

 It’s a long time before they go back inside. By any measure. {AO3}

[ahsbitch]

Something Strange In The Air (Part 2)

Word Count: 2544

Summary: In the aftermath of your...incident with Michael, you’re still tumbling to figure out what you’re doing. 

Warnings: It’s probably bad idk, oral (male receiving), face fucking, degradation, Mean!Michael & Being Mean To Michael, blue balls, waxing poetic, lots of cursing (as always), idk i can’t think of any others 

A/N: Sorry this is really short and sorry it took so long I’m in college so I’ve been busy and I was writing a oneshot for a different fandom which took some time, the next chapter will have more plot to it and stuff I promise, my apologies for shitty writing and being a super slow writer, I’m doing my best I promise. As always, comments (even just in the tags) are always ultra appreciated!!!!!

Mini Tags: @wroteclassicaly @1-666-coven @michaellangdonstanaccount uhhh there are others but i can’t remember if i forgot to tag you i’m sorry pls remind me 

ALSO I PUT IN THE KEEP READING THING BUT IT REFUSES TO WORK SO SORRY ABOUT THAT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was poetry flashing through your mind.

Some say the world will end in fire

Bits and pieces. 

Death, be not proud

You couldn’t get him off your mind. 

Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart 

Couldn’t get your dream off your mind. 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 

The way he had looked at you, in it, how he had held your hand.

He kindly stopped for me-

Michael often called you little witch,

Leave my loneliness unbroken 

But he had never called you his little witch, as he had in the dream. 

There will be time to murder and create

He was beautiful, almost angelic in appearance, you had to admit.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

And he pulled you in, in spite of how hard you tried to ignore it

I can no longer remain away from you

It was almost disgusting, how much you thought about him. 

Curse, bless, me now with your tears, I pray

There was something about him that frightened you.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

A lot about him that frightened you, actually. 

A waking on a morn

“Y/N,” Cordelia spoke, and you could tell from her tone that this wasn’t the first time she’d said your name, “Are you with me?” 

Shit, you’d gotten distracted. 

You’d been called to a meeting in Cordelia’s office, made it to one of the chairs, and immediately spaced out. 

You hadn’t really seen Michael in almost a week, nothing more than passing glimpses in the halls and quick pulses of his energy in the air. You’d been avoiding him. Or maybe he’d been avoiding you. Honestly, you couldn’t remember. You hadn’t spent a single night in your bedroom, instead floating around to parties and going to the swamps to practice your magic rather than spend time in the study room. 

Fuck, things were getting complicated.

“I’m with you,” You smiled cautiously at her, “I’m sorry.” 

She smiled back, something you couldn’t quite determine just behind her eyes. Concern, of course, her whole aura was clearly very concerned, but something else, and then she was speaking, her voice as calm as ever, “Don’t be sorry. Are you feeling okay?” 

Of course not.

“Of course I am!” 

“Try again,” Her hands were folded neatly on her desk, and you dropped your gaze to look at them, Cordelia’s words making you feel a strange sense of shame, “I’m a little worried about you, Y/N.” 

Your ears were burning, your heart jumping wildly in your chest, “I’m sorry.” 

She sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t be sorry. Just... what’s going on with you? What’s going on between you and Michael Langdon?”

Shit.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been sleeping in your room, or studying in the house,” Cordelia looked at you strangely, and you held your breath, “Have you still been fighting?”

She didn’t know.

Thank fuck. 

“Yes,” You responded, perhaps a little too quickly, “Yes, we have. We just can’t seem to agree on anything.”

Not entirely untrue.

She nodded sympathetically, and you were relieved to feel that she believed that was it, “I’m sorry. I feared something like this might happen. But Y/N, you need to return to your room.You can’t be out every night, and you can’t do all of your studying in the swamps. You’re still a student here. You have to be present, at least sometimes.”

“Okay,” Nodding, you worked on getting your breathing fully back to normal, “I’ll be back in my room tonight.” 

“Good,” Cordelia reached out and squeezed your hand gently, “I’m proud of you, Y/N. You are a powerful witch, and a good woman. I believe in you.” 

Not able to make yourself respond, you simply flashed her a smile and bolted for the door, blinking back tears.

Fuck, she’d bee so disappointed if she knew the truth. 

You were barely out of the office when the door to a closet opened and someone tugged you inside, slamming it shut. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck, Michael?” You snapped, blinking into the darkness. 

Michael’s hand clamped over your mouth as he let out a growl, “Be quiet, little witch.” 

You worked your mouth until you managed to clamp your teeth onto the skin of his palm, biting as hard as you could. 

“Fuck,” He hissed, jerking away from you, “That hurt!”

“Good,” Glaring, you reached for the cord on the light and tugged on it, the weak bulb flickering overhead, “What the fuck?”

Glowering at you in the dim light, Michael crossed his arms, “What did Cordelia want?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Shaking his head, he scoffed at you, “It was about me, wasn’t it? Does she know?” 

It was childish to play dumb, and you knew that, but you were doing it anyway, “Does she know what? Why would we want to talk about you?” 

It took only a single step for Michael to back you against the wall, pinning you there with his hips, "Don’t even bother with that shit. Answer the fucking question.” 

You shoved at his chest, although even you had to admit that it was a halfhearted push. His proximity, especially after so long away from him, was overwhelming, and you felt your mind slipping to a place you didn’t want it to be, “Get the fuck away from me, asshole.” 

Another shove, and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, holding them over your head, “You weren’t asking me to do that last time we saw each other, were you, little witch? Now. Does Cordelia know?” 

“No,” Growling, you tried in vain to pull your hands back, “We talked about you, but she doesn’t know about that. Now let me go.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Michael laughed at you, “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not the one in charge here.”

“Fuck you,” You spat, beginning to shake with something between fury and a feeling that you didn’t quite want to acknowledge.

“This is a pretty color,” Michael shifted both of your wrists to one hand and brought the other down to trail across your lips, tapping at the soft flesh, smudging a bit of the golden sheen, “Did you put this on for me?” 

Ever since that day in the study room, not that day but the one before, you had taken to wearing more and more lipstick, coating your lips in a new color everyday. 

Today was gold, one that shimmered when the light hit it, and if you were honest, yes, you did put it on for Michael. Every time you reapplied a coat of lipstick, today and every other, he flashed through your mind, the sneer on his features, the echo of his words in your ear when his fingers were down your throat. 

“You look good like this...Gagging...You wear revealing clothes and you act like you’re doing it for yourself...But really you’re just a dumb, depraved, desperate little whore who wants nothing more than to be dicked down by your rival.” 

Fuck, just thinking about it sent a wave of wetness gushing through you, and you tensed your legs in an effort to ignore it, and the smirk on Michael’s face told you that he had noticed. 

Yes, you were wearing it for him. 

“No,” You had to crane your head to glare at him with how close he was, “I don’t know if this is the first time you’re hearing this, but not everything is about you, Boy Wonder.” 

He hummed, drawing his fingers along your cheekbone, and you cursed yourself for the way you leaned into the contact ever so subtly. After a moment he pressed his lips against yours, and although you fought to keep yourself in control, to keep from kissing him back, cursing yourself once again when you couldn’t hold yourself back, your noses smashing against one another, your mouth slipping open with a groan, quickly intruded upon by Michael’s tongue, which battled fiercely with yours. 

And then suddenly he pulled away from you and stepped back, and you fell to your knees as he chuckled, his hands unbuckling his belt, “All the same, little bitch, I think that color would look wonderful smeared all over my cock, don’t you?” 

“I fucking hate you,” You glared up at him through your eyelashes as one of his hands gripped your hair, the other pulling his dick out of the confines of his slacks. 

“That just makes this all the more pathetic, doesn’t it?” He slapped your cheek with his dick gently, and it wasn’t lost on you how perfect it was, the size and the ridging and and the pulsing veins and the furious pink of the tip all making your mouth water, “Get up and walk away if you want, little witch bitch. But I don’t think you will. I think you want this. I think that being a little whore is the calling you’re pulled to most.” 

Get up and walk away.

You could do that. 

He pulled his hand from your hair, letting your head drop back, and you knew that if you moved to stand he would release you, would let you go. His precum had leaked onto your face as he continued to hit your cheeks, waiting to see what you would do. 

Just get up and walk away. 

But you couldn’t, couldn’t bring yourself to walk away without having the chance to taste him, not when the very thought was sending arousal roaring through you, and while you wished you could directly blame this on Michael, could say that his magic was holding you in place, that simply wasn’t it. 

You opened your mouth as wide as you could and in an instant his cock was down your throat, Michael setting off to fuck your face at an intense pace. 

Gagging, you brought your hands up to his thighs, and when your nails scratched against his legs through the fabric or his dress pants Michael let out a high, desperate groan. 

Although you couldn’t quite smile at that, with how full your mouth was, there was a little voice gloating in the back of your head, and you squeezed his thigh tightly, drinking down his moans as you moved until his own back had hit the wall, his hands desperately moving from your hair to your shoulders to simply slamming down on either side of his body. 

“Your mouth is good for something, I guess,” Michael grunted, as though he wasn’t as desperate for you as you had been for him a week ago, “You’re much prettier when you’re not talking, did you know that?” 

You managed to flick back your middle finger enough to flip him off, although you didn’t pull back to make a verbal response. There was something urgent about this, and the idea of dropping him from your mouth seemed too great a sacrifice to make, when the harmony of Michael’s shockingly soft, animalistic moans mixed with the lewd, wet noises of his dick hitting the back of your throat was so disgustingly lovely. 

Michael’s hands twitched, as though he was going to grab at your hair again, and at that moment he seemed to finally notice your own magic in the air, holding his wrists in place.

“You little bitch,” He snarled, straining against the magic, but all he could do was buck his hips into your mouth even harder, letting out a hiss as your teeth grazed him, as your tongue swirled around his head, “Let me go.” 

But where’s the fun in that? 

You didn’t let him go, and you didn’t stop. If anything, you grew more intense, your hands managing all over him, sneaking past the fabric of his clothes to leave angry scratches on his skin, so smooth underneath your touch. Eventually one of them trailed to his balls, tugging and toying with them roughly as he began to strain even harder, began to make a choked noise at the back of his throat that made your thighs clench, and you knew he was going to cum soon. 

You pulled your mouth off of him. 

He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, panting, desperate, watching as you trailed your tongue over every inch of his dick, pulling his balls into your mouth and sucking them slowly, and finally you pressed a kiss to the skin just above his cock and leaned back with a grin.

“What the fuck,” Michael growled, although his face showed a kind of manic desperation that he clearly wasn’t used to, “Get back to it!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Your smile got even wider, although your mouth was sore and your voice scratchy, you decided it was worth it, “You call me a little bitch all the time, but who’s the bitch now, Boy Wonder?” 

“Y/N, I’m serious. I will ruin you,” Snarling in spite of the pained expression starting to grow on his face, he thrusted against you, and you let out a giggle at that. 

“It’s so cute that you say that while you’re humping my leg like an unfixed puppy,” Shaking your head, you took a step back, out of the range of his hips, and looked down to admire his flushed, throbbing dick, “You were right, y’know. The gold does look good on there .Especially the contrast it has with the blue of your balls.”

He looked down to see that your words were true, the skin becoming overtaken with a pale, bruise like color, and when Michael looked back up at you there was something murderous in his eyes, “Quit fucking around. Let me go, and finish.” 

“Why should I?”

Arms straining against their magical containment, face twisting with the growing pain in his balls, Michael’s voice had grown croaky, “Do it. I will never touch you again, if you walk away from this, do you get that you desperate little whore? You want me. You need me. Do what I fucking tell you.” 

“I think there’s been a serious misunderstanding here, Langdon. I don’t need anything from you. You keep saying you’re the one in charge, but look at you. You’re nothing but a little blonde bimbo. So fuck you,” You scoffed, trailing a single hand across his chest and giving his nipple a harsh pinch, letting out a laugh at his angered whine, “And by the way, Cordelia says I have to move back into our room. I’ll be back tonight. I’ll see you whenever you get around to being the powerful warlock everyone thinks you are and break through my magic.”

With that, you pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his lip and turned away, not bothering to fix your own appearance before you went out, turning the light off before you closed Michael in the closet. 

You were proud of yourself, you had to admit. 

Scared, perhaps, of what he might do, and curious as to whether or not he’d keep the promise that he’d never touch you again-not that you wanted him to, of course, you were just curious-but you were proud all the same. 

Fucking Michael Langdon.