#and the ''smarter (and feels more deeply) than he seems''

[monstrousmuse]

Some of my favourite excerpts from the second part of the interview:

“We know psychologically that Ford is not travelling this path alone. He’s travelling it with his Muse, who he has a very complex and fucked up relationship with. And even in Ford’s private thoughts, he would not say ‘I’m alone’, he would say ‘oh, I have a very important relationship in my life with Bill, but I don’t have a friend. (…) Ford is not alone in his mind, even though he is extraordinarily alone.”

…

“The things that Ford said as McGucket left weren't "I value you and I'm sorry we have a difference of opinion," it was "get the hell out of here you hillbilly, you don't understand science!" (…) He was really cruel to McGucket. He was cold to him, and they did not talk for thirty more years after that.(…) But we knew that if McGucket created the memory gun after their break up, there could be no explanation of it in the journal. (…) And he so wants to please Ford. (…) McGucket doesn't really know what's going on, but he's internalizing and thinking, "I just need to be a better partner.’”

…

“To me, the greatest compliment that I can receive as a creator is somebody saying "this resonated with me." Our goal is to make characters that have a human truth in them (…) My feeling is that the customer is always right. Like, if the character is gay to you, they're gay. (…) That's sort of the magic of fiction.. (…) That's the hope. My feeling is that if we do our job, people feel a truth and they connect to it.”

…

“Ford was a very challenging character to conceive. (…) We knew his job narratively was to give Stan the biggest chip on his shoulder that we could think of. (…) He has to be smarter than Stan. He has to be fitter, and better at fighting than Stan too. He's not gonna be some little shrinking nerd. It would be a pretty fair fight between him and Stan (…) Ford has the formal training, and Stan just has the madness.”

“You know the damage someone's family has done to them by all of their weird tics and behaviors. (….) Who is the character who would result in Stan being this hurt and needy and mad and also longing?”

“We came up with this guy who kinda seemed too perfect. He's aloof, and distant, and he's too perfect. And it's like, "oh, I think he's also aloof and distant from himself." (…) I think he is deeply, deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships. He doesn't have friendships, he doesn't have romantic relationships, he is someone trapped in a tower of his own mind and estranged.”

“Ford shows none of that. He has sublimated himself romantically so, so deeply. (…) I really thought of Ford kind of like Tesla in that realm.”

-Alex Hirsch, 2023

…

part one

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 3

___________________

"Missing: If found dead or alive, please contact the authorities"

Dick feels like he's about to puke, every time he sees that fucking poster, every time it's played in the news

He feels like he failed, not just as Nightwing, but as a brother, he was supposed to be a protector, projecting you as a vigilante and as a hero

Everything keeps replaying in his head, how you were always out of theme in family photos because Damian keeps telling you the wrong one, but no one bothers to tell you the real one

How in a single day, everything you've ever built was abandoned, your room, your school, your friends (he wasn't sure if you had any) (ps: you didn't, Damian wouldn't let it happen)

How no one was there to help

And he saw another poster "bring back dead or alive"

He wasn't sure how he's going to accept if you're actually dead

Because if you're alive, there could be a chance, he'd apologize to you, and he knows you're kind enough to accept it, he'll spend lost time with you, and everything will be fine

But with every minute that passes, it feels like slowly you are pulling away further from him (if it's still possible that you could be pulled further than you are now)

________________________

2 years ago

"How long are you gonna keep disappointing me like this...?" Bruce sighed deeply

He got your report card, funny enough, the only time he sees you is when you do something wrong

And it wasn't like you failed either, it's just that it's lower than what your siblings got, it's lower than his standards

Well sorry you're not Tony Stark level, am I right? Ahaha-

You weren't stupid, you just weren't as smart as your siblings, in your defense you were smarter than them at some other stuff, it's just that it's the stuff your father didn't care about

"Dad are you finally throwing out the anchor?" Damian snickered

You huff at the insult, knowing if you insult him back you'll get in trouble "it's not even that bad-"

Jason furrows his brows "yeah, but it's not good enough, I hope you realize how lucky you are compared to the other kids in Gotham, you should repay it by being outstanding"

"And not to mention as the first born biological child you should uphold yourself to the standards given to you, if you can't do that then stand down" Tim scoffs at you

That comment may or may not be from an insecurity that he isn't Bruce's real kid (despite being more loved than you)

"don't you think you're being too dramatic? I don't even want that stupid company" you grit your teeth

"that stupid company is what keeps a roof over your head, stop being so ungrateful"

Damian's face has that shit-eating grin once again "throw it out the streets maybe then it'll know"

It's always that fucking suggestion that throws you off, every fight, they call you a burden in this house, they want you out

You feel like if it weren't going to be a legal problem Bruce would have done it

"you guys are so full of yourselves, I don't know where you pull the 'i'll fix Gotham' mentality when you can't even fix your own issues" you grab your grades and leave

"You fucking-" you hear Damian say but you ran to your room, to the far corner of the Manor, a guest bedroom (you were kicked out of your master bedroom when Damian came, his reason was "it's too stressful seeing it everyday", so they moved you)

______________________

Present

"Diana...?" Bruce calls

"Diana!, what is it!?" Bruce yells "What do you see?"

Diana looks like she's about to cry, as she examines the footage in front of her

another demigod dead

She thinks, her hands shaking at the sight of another child, like she once was, dying at the hands of those monsters who hunt them down

Does Bruce know? It didn't seem like he did, if he knew- he would have protected the kid right?

Then she sees light, she sees the little kid run into the garden, and meet nymphs, she sees the kid escape

"oh thank the gods..." She whispered

Without saying another word, she left the tower, leaving the others confused, she knew where the kid was

(Name) was safe at camp

_______________________

I just finished an exam and the entire time I was taking it, the edit of "dynamic duo", starring Nightwing and Redhood kept playing in my head

Also this series is gonna have multiple parts, I wanna make things easier for you guys :3 , how do you make a masterlist?

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

@bat1212 @vanessa-boo @sweetconnoisseurgardener

[discofama]

I love how comfortable Adam and Lute are around each other.

I mean, look at this

So they're casually together during the extermination, much like how friends gravitate towards each other when in an event even if they're not talking or doing anything, just because it feels easier than being alone. Or perhaps Lute flew closer because she saw the huge war machine approaching Adam and got a little worried.

Charlie and Vaggie are going to attack them, and look at what they do:

Despite being Adam the one closer to Vaggie, he doesn't move an inch. They don't say anything (besides the shit talk) and Adam doesn't even look at her, he expects Lute will take care of Vaggie with no order from him, even if he's closer.

Obviously Adam is confident and doesn't think Vaggie can hurt him at all, but he clearly trusts Lute to get her out of the way. He probably knows how bloodthirsty Lute is for Vaggie and lets her have her without a word, and Lute complies, again, without a word, leaving him to handle the strongest of the enemies at that moment (Charlie).

So in this second, Adam and Lute communicated in silence. Adam didn't move and trusted her to cut in even if it was him the one under attack, and finally Lute trusted him to handle Charlie so she could fight Vaggie, as she didn't seem worried at all of the possibility of Charlie coming to protect her girlfriend.

They're in harmony. They're just natural together.

He lets her grab him like this and is willing to listen to her. It's clear he respects her and deep down appreciates that she'll keep him from doing something stupid, even if he whines.

She also climbs him? Lol. (Look at how she holds onto his arm 🥹 she's super comfortable with touching him!)

They're always hyping each other up, like in their songs:

(Look at Lute's smug face here 👇, she's sooo satisfied with what Adam's saying)

I honestly believe that they kinda make each other worse, that neither of them would be SO mean all the time if they didn't have the other: a companion who is always backing them up, who agrees on any crap that comes out of their mouth (Lute lets him talk shit about random women and nods, Adam goes along with Lute's homophobia despite seeming to not care that much about homosexuals).

Many portray Lute being a lot smarter than Adam, but I think they're both dumbasses. I mean, we laugh at Adam for saying he never made a mistake in his fucking life, but it was Lute who first stated angels don't make mistakes, somehow keeping a serious face. I think Lute seems smart because she's more quiet and cares about the rules, but she doesn't do logic very well either and can be impulsive too, as shown in the end of ep. 1.

They're probably each other's best/only friend, because they're just so unlikeable. And it makes sense they'd deeply care for one another. They care about that person that stands them and agrees with them and actually enjoys being with them. They're always seen together, hanging out even off duty. They clearly have a lot of fun.

I'll be honest. I ship GuitarSpear, I love it, but I don't know if I want it to be canon for 2 reasons:

1. Lute might be a lesbian.

She is so repulsed by homosexuals that it feels personal. Talking about how disgusting and blasphemous Charlie and Vaggie's love is, or how many cocks were in Angel's mouth and calling him a whore. She cares too much about it for it to not be personal, and I think it makes sense that she'd be a closet lesbian with a shit ton of internalized homophobia. She probably knew about Vaggie's sexuality and held a lot of resentment towards her before tearing off her wings. Maybe she was even attracted to her and was so repulsed about it that she redirected her self-hatred to Vaggie.

2. I think it could be better for Adam's character.

Let's just think about it. This character has a very distorted view of women, he has a fixation on them and hypersexualizes them. So the idea of this horny man, who always sees women with sex colored glasses, being good friends with a hot female below him in the hierarchy with no sexual or romantic interest whatsoever is nice to me. It'd work as sort of a redeeming quality in regards of his relationship with women, and I personally think this man is very redeemable. Let's hope he gets a second chance!

Still! All of this trust and comfort and team feelings can be read as romantic and I certainly wouldn't mind if it becomes canon! They could be the best villain couple!

Summarizing, these two are soulmates, end of the story. They're worse together, but also probably provide the other of a very needed company.

I have no clue if Adam will actually come back, but if he doesn't, I'll feel very bad for Lute. Yeah, yeah, she's an evil bitch, I don't care.

[morkhan]

It is so buckwild to me what Insomniac did with Harry Osborn and Venom.

In the vast majority of Spider-Media, Venom's defining character trait is his hatred of Spider-Man, and at first, it looks like Insomniac might be going that route. They give Harry ample reason to be absolutely furious with Peter, to resent him, resent the life he gets to live, a beloved superhero with a girlfriend, healthy and strong, a genius of such caliber that even his own father seems to prefer him to Harry. His supposed "best friend" who seems to be withholding lifesaving medical treatment just because he likes how it feels on him, because it's not enough that he be better and stronger and smarter than poor, sickly, doomed Harry, no, he has to be stronger than himself, stronger than the old Spider-Man could ever hope to be. It's not enough for Peter to have his own powers, he has to have Harry's as well, and if that comes at the cost of Harry's life? Well, that's just the cost of doing business. As long as it makes him a better Spider-Man, that's all that matters, right?

It seems like they are going down the route where Harry gives into his anger and resentment, the symbiote whispering in his ear and exacerbating his worst aspects until there is nothing left of the sweet boy that Emily Osborn raised to be so deeply good, only a supervillain hellbent on revenge and world domination.

But that's not what happens.

Instead, almost everything Harry does after the Venom symbiote takes over is framed as helping. As a genuine, if twisted belief that the world he is making is a better world. Instead of seeking revenge against Peter, Harry/Venom wants to convert him. Wants him to stand beside him as they "heal the world" together. And the odd thing is, this only becomes more true with time. At first, Harry/Venom seems almost indifferent to Peter, and angers quickly when Peter calls them a "thing." But we see that the idea of Peter doing this with him, the need for his best friend to be beside him at the end of all things, eventually becomes so important to him that it is ultimately a weakness the heroes exploit.

Think about that; Harry Osborn's love for Peter Parker is so powerful that it almost seems to be corrupting the Venom symbiote, infecting it and twisting its mind as surely as it twisted Peter's, but in the opposite direction. It's so wild to watch the scenes at the end of the game and hear Tony Todd, in his deep-ass Venom voice, read lines like "Thanks for coming, Pete 😊" with the same casual inflection and tone as Harry would. Saying "This is where we became best friends. Now it's where we become brothers!" and sounding so pleased and excited that you'd think he was talking about Pete's mom marrying his dad and not infecting him with alien mind goop.

It's so incredible to me that the defining trait of Insomniac's Venom isn't hate; it's love. A twisted, warped love that doesn't fully understand itself, but a sincere and true love nonetheless, one that holds to the very end.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hi,just wanted to ask if you would be able to write about people reacting to Aegon in displaying PDA with either his wife or lover.

Like the touches are not sexual but like lingering and innocent, people can see how in love they are or how deep their connection is.

It can also be a brothel worker (I love your latest piece of work) that he cares deeply for and wouldn't mind showering her with affections as she did him.

Anyway, just saying your writings got me into knowing the dom and sub in a very gentle and comfortable way. Love you!

I'm so glad to hear you enjoy my content!! Also yeah I love when dom/sub dynamics can be so gentle and sweet and very very healthy and communicative. Loads of people tend to think that BDSM is purely slapping people and calling them whores but that's not even close to the truth. In case you guys couldnt tell I am most certainly a certified soft dom and service dom.

Anyway, I love this idea! I think I'm going to write this with Aegon and his wife instead of brothel worker? I'm very happy to do a brothel worker one if you guys would like I just think he concept makes a bit more sense with wife!reader. If you have thoughts about this with brothel worker!reader and how that would work then feel free to let me know!! I'd be happy to explain on it.

Back to the point, there's nothing too explicit in this answer so no cut to hide behind, but it's very clearly sub!aegon so bare that in mind before you decide to read :))

I've said this before and I'll say it again: at first your marriage with Aegon is like any other arranged marriage and you're only seen together when absolutely necessary. But then you start to get to know each other and your dynamic starts to become more dom/sub and from there he is absolutely OBSESSED with his wife and everyone knows it.

So the PDA starts once the dom/sub dynamic has been sorted out.

As we all know, Aegon is very needy. He's a needy, jealous kinda pathetic little thing and he wants nothing more than to watch his wife be so much smarter than him and get to be her little gremlin cheerleader who followers her around and has no thoughts whatsoever. Now obviously he's the actual king so he needs to be seen a little more in control than that, as Allicent is always reminding him, but that's not to say he actually tries to seem that way.

If you're in public with Aegon then you are always next to him. If you get called away and are gone for more than a few minutes then Aegon will start looking for you because where are you??!! You're his wife!! How are you be away from him for more than a few minutes!!

He's been known to come up from behind you and wrap both his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder while you're talking to someone else. He won't actually contribute to the conversation and if the people you're talking to try to include him he simply won't respond. He's not there to actually joint the conversation, he's there because his wife is!

When he's holding court, Aegon will never allow you to be standing with all the others below the thrown. Historically that is where the queen consort has always been, standing with the other ladies of the court while the king sits on the iron thrown.

Before you two became closer you wouldnt even attend Aegon's court and he didnt care. But when you start to get closer and you start come to court, he point blank refuses to let you stand with all the other ladies. You're the queen!! What are you doing down there???

The first time this happens, you had spent the night with him and he asks you to come to court with him. You agree of course, and you enter the thrown room together. He walks as he usually does and goes up the stairs to the thrown. He turns around and he's about to sit when he realises you arent with him. He looks around and sees you've moved to the side with the other ladies of the court.

"What are you doing over there?" Aegon asks you. He tilts his head and chuckles because he thinks it's absolutely hilarious that you'd actually think you had to stand there with all of them. He tells you to come up with him, and you do walk up the stairs to the thrown but when you get there you simply speak softy to him, reminding him that there's only the iron thrown and not anything else to sit on so you ask if he wants you to stand next to him for the entire thing.

Obviously this is unacceptable to him. He would never make you do that.

He ends up insisting you sit on the actual thrown and he literally just sits on the stairs besides you. Everyone, including you, doesn't know what to think of this but Aegon has no issues whatsoever. Honestly he's very happy sitting on the stairs and listening to all the different things people come to him about. Very often he'll look up at you, silently asking for your opinion and when you do start speaking, he doesn't look back at the person you're speaking to but instead he keeps his eyes on you. He looks so very clearly in love and in awe of you and pretty quickly everyone gets used to it.

After that court day you try to suggest he gets another chair next to the thrown or something but he actually refuses? He really likes sitting on the stairs, likes that you get the thrown. When you try to tell him that you're not sure if that's even allowed he simply reminds you that he's king.

Pretty soon all the paintings of Aegon during his reign are actually him on the stairs with you on the thrown, many of them show Aegon looking up at you and not even looking straight ahead.

That really shows everyone what your dynamic is. You're always calm and collected and very kind when needed. Aegon, meanwhile, is utterly obsessed with you and is always looking at you like he's in awe you're actually his wife.

Of course you're also always holding hands when walking together, or linking arms.

[edgeray]

BENEATH THE MASK

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Have this Father's Day special oneshot.  enemies to lovers villain arlecchino x hero reader, aka, is it gay to sleep in the same bed as your enemy? Your hero name is Rover, because heheh wuwa reference.  Might make a part 2 if someone wants it.  Content warnings / info - arlecchino is mean and threatens you, arlecchino's pov, gn! reader, 2.2k words

A knock sounds on the front door, making Arlecchino pause in the midst of her meal. A visitor? Certainly, there’s no one she was expecting today, especially at–Arlecchino glances at the clock– 9:18PM. Anyone who she would allow to visit her would text or call beforehand. Should she just pretend that she's not there? Frowning, she sets down the fork on the table. Damn it, she really should install cameras already but she always pushes it back. 

Cautiously peering through the eye hole, her breath hitches and her eyes widen. If she had a heart, it would have sunk into her stomach. Her hands fly to the door handle, unlocking it and flinging it open. 

At her doorstep, you stand there, blood staining your torn and ripped suit as you clutch your arm. There's a knife lodged in your shoulder, and she could see your face– scratched up and bruised. Your pupils are foggy and your expression seems far away, hardly able to direct your attention onto her. Upon seeing her, an abnormal smile finds your face, then, your knees buckle and you tumble into her arms. She catches you effortlessly, slotting her arms behind your back and tugging you into her chest. You go boneless in her grasp.

“What the hell happened to you, Rover?” She demands through gritted teeth while she glances down at you. She carries you into her house, closing the door with a swift kick, doing her best to haul you into her living room and setting you down to lay on her couch. Your blood seeps into the furniture. You wince at the new movement, sharply inhaling.

“Got… into f-fight. With some, some new guy. Real asshole he was. Fucked… fucked him up pretty good,” you force out in between your labored breathing, before you cough out more blood. Your eyes flit over her form.

“Heh… nice sleepwear,” you remark with a trembling, cunning smile. “Who would have known… the notorious Knave sleeps in Hello Kitty pants… you're a lot less scary now… you know? Nice place as well…” 

Arlecchino proceeds to ignore your comment. “How did you find me? Why did you come here? Do you have a fucking death wish, Rover?” She presses on, her hardened features showing no hint of empathy or concern. 

“I'm… smarter than you think. And… I came because… hell, if I know.” You wetly cough. “Didn't have… anywhere else.” 

The two of you know that she won't kill you, at least not now. For as often you found one another on opposite sides, the two of you have come to understand each other. 

Arlecchino breathes in deeply through her nose, processing her enemy's word. Rover has always been a major hindrance in her plans– a constant rose thorn in her side for years, but she always appreciates your grit and strength. You've battled her tens of times, and each fight she can't deny the exhilaration she feels. She's yet to beat you and the vice versa is the same. A frequent dance between players of different sides, somehow the two of you always found the other in each other's paths. It would be romantic if it wasn't outright irritating.  

Only you could truly challenge you and for that it's why the pitiful state you're in disturbs her to no end. You can't die, not here, not now, not when it's not by her hands. She will pry your last breath with her own hands, she will not allow anyone else to have that honor. She wants to see what kind of expression you'd make when she snuffs out your final bit of life. It would be so easy to end you here. To wrap her claws around your pretty neck, watch your pathetic attempts of struggle, savor the despair in your eyes, oh how easy it would be. 

But if there was anything the Knave was, it was not a freeloader. She will not take other people's efforts and use them to further her own goals, which she will strive for by herself alone. If she killed you here, her own dignity would be singed. 

There will come a day when the Rover is brought down, and the perpetrator will be clear: her. Until then, your survival is of the utmost importance, and next? To pay this scum a lesson of who can touch her angel and it is certainly not him. 

“Who is this new villain that's sprung up?”  She questions as she walks to the bathroom, grabbing her first aid kit, cotton balls, and some alcohol. 

“Get this. The Doctor…” The hero then chuckles weakly. “Massive dick.” 

“I see…” the Knave mutters as she approaches you. “Why did you come to me instead of the hospital?” 

“Closer… easier to hide…”

“He was actively hunting you?” 

“His ‘segments’ are still out there… no doubt wanting to finish the job…”

“Segments?”

“His clones.” 

“Why you?” 

“Jealous… of my good looks, maybe…?” 

Arlecchino frowns. So you don't know why. She sits down in between your legs, leaning over you as she observes you, examining any wounds she can see. A couple of cuts on your sleeves and face, a deeper laceration over your sternum, and the knife wound. At least he gave her a little keepsake, though it is just like any cheap, small knife. If he has multiple ‘segments,’ then supplying them with proper weapons would be costly… 

“Can you remove your costume?” Her finger trails over your ribs making you hiss out in agony. 

You shake your hand. “C-can't… can barely lift my arms.” 

The Knave sighs, letting her claws extend out. “I'm going to have to cut it off you.” 

 “Go ahead.”

Deliberately and precisely, she uses one claw to slice open your costume, exposing your chest to her. You flush and squirm slightly before she places the same clawed hand over your stomach, talons pricking your skin. Her fingertips feel impossibly hot, just like her blood flame abilities. Your abdomen muscles flex just from the contact and she can feel it when her frown twitches. 

“Stay still,” she gruffs, piercing red-crossed eyes bores into yours. 

“At least…take me out… to dinner first, Knave,” you snicker. 

“You're insufferable.” 

As she patches you up and tends to the various bruises and cuts you have, a silence forms between the two of you. She notices that throughout the entire interaction, you're peering at her, but not at her hands–her face. 

“Lift your hips. I need to bandage your abdomen.” 

You try to comply, but find yourself barely able to lift it past a little up. You grunt in agony, and then give her puppy eyes. The Knave is a villain. She's able to destroy the city center with the snap of her fingers, has brought down buildings with no effort, and has cremated numerous people. She is either feared by the mass or revered by scums. She would never be defeated by something as commiserable as your pleading expression.

“Do I have to do everything for you? I wonder how I've yet beat you when you're this incompetent injured,” Arlecchino huffs. Her hands grasp your hip, raising your hips until she slides your bottom over her lap, your bent knees on either side of her. The sight resembles something terribly intimate to Arlecchino, and from your flustered appearance, it seems that way to you too.

“Didn't think I would… have the Knave in between… my legs so soon,” you smirk cunningly, wiggling your hips as best as you can to further enunciate your archon-awful humor. One hand of hers finds your thigh before she grips it, claws digging through your costume and nicking into your skin. It's shallow enough to act as a warning but deep enough for you to feel it, a gesture to show that she doesn't appreciate your mouth. 

“Did you forget? We are enemies. Just because I choose not to harm you now does that mean it would be wise to provoke me.”

“Not currently.” 

That much is true. Silence fills between the two of you again. 

“You know… you would be a lot easier to look at without your mask,” you whisper. Arlecchino looks up at you, her stone cold expression betrayed by her eyes, focused intently on you. How you had the audacity to trifle with her, she's uncertain. Perhaps it's just a distraction tactic you’ve turned into a habit, though she's unaware of whether or not you use this with other villains. 

“Are you suggesting I'm rather hard to look at when I do?” She inquires.

“Quite the opposite. You would look even better, though.”

“The reason I wear a mask is the same reason you do.” Though, you don't need to wear yours right now. She already knows where you reside, and your true name. 

“We don't have to wear masks when it's just us, Arlecchino.” The villain shivers at hearing her name come from your lips; it sounds immorally ethereal, wicked to associate something so vile with something as seraphic as your voice. And that voice that's slipped past her rational, calculating thoughts whispers that she'd like to hear you say her name again. It's just as electrifying as when you bellow her villain name in fury. 

She swears that the dead heart inside her chest beats for a moment. 

She comments nothing. She doesn’t enjoy the dalliance your words seem to imply, doesn't like how the air between you becomes thick with something that inspires hunger. She physically turns away from you. 

“I've finished patching you up. Rest is the only thing you can do now. With your regeneration, you should be back to normal conditions.” 

She packs up the various medical items, slotting the items into their respective containers. She's about to get up and put them away when your hand catches her wrist, a frail grip that she can effortlessly wrench herself out. She doesn't however. 

“Do you have… anywhere else for me to rest?”

“I've tended to your wounds and you ask for more? How selfish can you be, Rover?” She frowns. 

“The blood makes it feel… sticky.” 

“You need to wash off the blood.” 

“Well… considering I can't move my arms or legs…”

You're going to make her burst a blood vessel. 

“Know that your death will be excruciating,” she sighs, and you give her a cheeky grin that she wants nothing more than to rip off your face.  

She scoops you up into her strong arms, carrying you as firmly yet tenderly as possible in order to not aggravate your wounds. She takes you upstairs to a hallway, turning to the closest door. She seats you on the edge of the bathtub and turns on the faucet, letting the tub fill with hot water. She exits the room, presumably to grab some extra clothes and towels. She returns with exactly that, setting them down on the sinker counter. 

She picks you up again, seating herself first squarely in the tub before you're placed on her lap, your back towards her. 

“I'm going to have to remove your pants.” 

“Seems unfair if I'm the only one that's going to be naked.”

“Do not make me stain my walls with your blood tonight. I prefer not having to clean up the mess.” 

“You already have to clean up the living room, what's one more?” 

She shuts you up with a loud tearing noise as she slits down the seams until finally you're left exposed to her. You gasp, squeezing your thighs. Arlecchino takes note of this, a small smile disappearing on her lips the moment it appears. Once she peels the pant sleeves off of you, she tosses them carelessly onto the bathroom floor. She retracts her claws to rub off the dried blood on your back, a long exhale escaping her as she gapes wordlessly at all the scars and faded bruises that scatter your back. 

“No bath bomb?” You whine–yes, a full grown hero whining about a bath bomb–which quickly interrupts her stare.

“I'm not wasting one on you,” she says. 

Although Arlecchino can't see it, she knows that you pout.

Thankfully for the rest of the time she cleans the blood off, you hold back on any more suggestive quips. Arlecchino shuts off the faucet and dries you off without another word, dressing you in a satin robe. She turns, quickly removing her own wet clothes and donning proper dry ones. When she returns her gaze on you, you seem oddly flustered–ah, she forgot she had an audience. If you appreciated her bare self, you had said nothing about it.

She hoists you into her arms again, marching down to the room right next to, which is a bedroom, and you’re placed onto the soft bed. You waste no time indulging in the mattress before you stop. 

“Wait, isn't this your bed?” 

“Indeed,” she says nonchalantly after she shuts the lights, sliding under the covers beside you. 

“But, wait, you, don't you, don't you… have anywhere else?” 

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Well… it's just… you're not going to kill me when I'm asleep right?” You chuckle though the unease is evident in your words. Arlecchino grasps your chin, making you face her. Your face is only a hair's breadth away from hers and she feels your hot breath against her lips. 

“Do not mistake me. When I kill you, it'd be when you're awake and beaten by me alone,” she whispers huskily. She lets go of you, and turns to the side, her back facing you. 

She can feel your eyes burrow into her. She pays no mind. 

[green-alm0nd]

Bad Batch reacting to female reader saving their life

[The Bad Batch x fem!reader (headcanons)]: Saving their life

----

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Summary:

Your favourite batcher is cornered, you save their life and their true feelings might show up.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mild mentions of injury and blood, near death experiences, season 1 Crosshair, badass reader, fluff. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

A/N: I hope you like it anon ^^

----

HUNTER:

He's surprised, relieved, worried and grateful at the same time.

His heightened senses had failed him at some point in the battle, too overwhelmed to react.

He was backed into a corner, surrounded by protocol droids, about to shoot him.

He was injured and his vibroblade had been tossed away. He was couldn't defend himself in any way.

That's when you came in, shooting the protocol droids rapidly, not giving them time to react.

You had truly saved him. In a time where he was not able to defend himself.

You approached him, and helped him out, wrapping an arm below his shoulders to help him walk.

He stared at your determined face, panting heavily due to the exhaustion and the adrenaline.

For a split second, his heart rate sped up, and his cheeks turned a slight pink tint. Thankfully, his tattoo covered half of it.

ECHO:

If this man wasn't already in love with you, he definitely fell harder for you when you saved his life.

Imperials were backing him into a corner, and he wasn't able to use his blaster, as one shot from him meant all shots would be directed at him.

He was starting to lose hope, yet he didn't want to surrender. He didn't want to let his brothers down.

That's when you came in, running and setting explosives on their backs.

The Imperials started shooting at you, yet you were too quick and stealthy.

This gave Echo an opening that he didn't waste, and ran to take cover.

Once the troopers were all out, you headed back to where Echo was, and helped him out.

He wants to say thank you yet can't since you're hurrying back to the Marauder and his words seemed to die on his tongue.

It wasn't new that Echo had made clear he was into you. Now, he made it more obvious by returning the favour and saving you, whenever you needed to be saved on a mission.

WRECKER:

He was so surprised that you saved him he couldn't manage to say anything at first.

BUT, he felt so proud and so happy that you saved him when he was surrounded by tactical droids he wasn't afraid to show you how grateful he was.

The droids had him cornered, and he knew they were called tactical droids for a reason, so he had to hold back his urge to shoot or blow everything up.

They were getting closer, and there was nothing he could do.

His shoulder was bleeding and he had taken a pretty bad shot on the side of his torso, too.

He would've been dead if you hadn't set explosives to cause a distraction and make an opening for him to defeat the droids.

Back to back, you both stunned and shot all tactical droids. He was injured, yes. But he could still use his blaster.

Inside the Marauder, once he's patched up, he will awkwardly approach you and than you for saving him on that tough spot.

But the awkwardness wouldn't last forever, since you got free hugs forever since then, apart from a man that loves you with all his heart.

TECH:

He wouldn't admit you saved him, he called it a lucky shot.

But you knew better, and you knew it was hard for him to swallow his own pride.

This smart clone wasn't always so smart. And one of the reasons why was because he thought of too many things at the same time and he did not see the blast that came at him.

Thankfully, you were to save the day, as you were able to take the shit for him, landing on your arm. You quickly pushed the trooper away, stunning him, before turning to look at Tech.

He was looking at you as if you had just revived him from the dead. He was so surprised, and it was odd for him to accept that you had been smarter than him.

That hurt him deeply, even though it was nothing to worry about. He was still the smart, calm and collected clone with mutations. Yet you outsmarted him that time.

"I could have easily avoided that by adverting their attention to something else. I had already thought of a few ideas as to what to do. That way, you couldn't have-"

"Hey, Tech?" You asked, wiping a piece of cloth over the wound, applying pressure on it.

"Yeah?"

"You're not helping"

Not to worry, though. This man loves you, and sometimes tried to get closer to you ever since that day.

CROSSHAIR:

You thought you were getting a 'thank you'. Hah, no chance.

There was no way this handsome man would admit you saved him. He refused to. He had too much pride to accept it.

He acted tough, angry that you had been able to see better than him at that moment, and that irritated him.

At first, he ignored you, not wanting to talk to you after that day. He pushed you away.

Little did he know, that his anger came from deep admiration.

Even though he wouldn't admit it out loud, it was true that you had thrown yourself in front of that group of droids and came to aid. It was extremely brave of you.

After the first week or two, he relaxed, and accepted you by doing small acts of service.

He accepted you saved his life.

And little by little, he truly warmed up to you to eventually thank you.

----

I'll probably edit Crosshair's part tomorrow, it's very late where I am and I'm truly sleepy.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

💕Hiii beautiful💕

Quiet but smart child where she -unintentionally- gets on everyone's nerves? Like Hades teaching her how to play chess and she easily beats him while still learning the rules, also correcting Jack after he gets one of Shakespeare's poems wrong, pointing out a mistake that Tesla made during his calculations and solving it for him or even correcting Odin when a spell of his isn't working because he misspelled a word so she says which one it is. Just a clueless girl pooping veins in their foreheads with cuteness HAHA

-Your family loved you- they adored you! You were their shining darling little child, but man sometimes they wanted to punt you over the back fence!!

-You were smart- extremely smart, smarter than you should have been at only age six, something that didn’t bother them, as they constantly praised you on your intelligence.

-However, it was that intelligence that was annoying to them at the same time.

-Your family wanted to expose you to as many new things as possible, to make you a well-rounded person, from physical activities like hiking and swimming, to things like painting and music, to science experiments and even doing magic with the few who knew how to use magic.

-Hades’ eyelid was twitching slightly, completely in shock as he was staring down at the chess board- he was teaching you how to play chess, and after a few mock games, mainly to show you how to move certain pieces, you were sitting across from him, holding his king, having beat him in only four moves. HOW WAS THIS POSSIBLE?!

-His gaze met your own and he sighed softly, giving you a small smile, “That’s all for today Y/N- time for your magic lesson with Odin.” -You nodded softly, not speaking, which was normal for you, and you slid off the chair and headed towards your next lesson for the day.

-Odin was pleased with your progress on your magic, showing you one of the more advanced spell books for the day as he wanted to challenge you, to see what you could really do.

-When he selected the spell, he chanted the incantation, to show you what the spell should look like, only nothing happened. He tried few more times, getting frustrated as it wasn’t working.

-You looked at the spell book and said the same incantation, with one minor pronunciation and your spell worked, a swirling ball of fire appearing before you.

-Odin’s face dropped, his eye wide as he saw this as the fireball faded and you pointed at the book, “You were saying this word wrong, it’s pronounced with a ‘che’ sound not a ‘ck’ sound.”

-Odin said nothing, as he didn’t trust himself at the moment, opting to just pat your head and shooed you away and you headed off to the next lesson with Nikola. Odin sighed deeply, trying to keep his composure, feeling embarrassed that you corrected him.

-Nikola’s lesson was the shortest, as he was writing an equation down for the two of you to discuss, and like you had laser eyes, you immediately narrowed in on a mistake, “That’s wrong- you didn’t calculate that right.”

-You showed him the calculation and he immediately froze, seeing that it was indeed wrong, which messed up the rest of the massive equation that he now had to correct.

-He held his hands to his face, “Sorry Y/N I don’t feel too good today. Go find Jack.”

-Nikola felt touched that you hugged him around his leg, telling him to get better soon before you wandered off again.

-Nikola knew that you didn’t mean anything cruel by it, you were just stating facts, you really were too smart for your own good.

-Jack was- he felt off. He seemed calm but you couldn’t shake the feeling he was upset, after you corrected him as he was reciting a bonnet from memory, telling him he got a word wrong, as you were following along in a book.

-He thanked you with a warm smile, patting your head, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was mad, something he told you his wasn’t.

-With your lessons done for the day, you went to find Buddha, who promised to take you out for ice cream once your lessons were done with.

-The four men you left devastated in your wake, overcome by your intellect, had to realize that you didn’t realize you were upsetting them, you were just being Y/N- and they had to learn to get over their own egos on what they believe was right when it wasn’t.

-When you arrived back with Buddha with ice cream, in cups, for all of them, thanking them for the lessons, they had to fight hard not to collapse from cuteness- you were just as sweet as you were smart.

[iomoru]

Writing request, neuvillette x reader studying for a big exam (in university, not an underage reader)

Quiet Moments

A/n: I'm really thankful you corrected me earlier, I also kinda read your blog and found out that you have autism and I deeply apologize for my misunderstanding (◞���◟ㆀ)

Genre: Modern! Au, College! Au, Fluff, Gn! Reader, Neuvillette x Reader, Second Person, Proofread

Summary: While studying for an upcoming board exam in a quiet library, you and Neuvillette share snacks and light banter. As you support each other through the material, a genuine connection blossoms between you. With each moment spent together, you realize that the bond you've formed is just as important as the knowledge you’re gaining.

The library was unusually quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustling of pages turning and the occasional scribble of pens on paper. You sat at a cozy wooden table, surrounded by towering stacks of textbooks, the faint scent of old pages filling the air. It was the perfect atmosphere for studying, and you were grateful for it, especially with the looming board exam just a week away.

Across the table sat Neuvillette, your study partner and a fellow university student. His presence was both calming and inspiring, his focused demeanor always motivating you to push through the most challenging subjects. Today, he was engrossed in a thick textbook, his brow furrowed in concentration, a pencil tapping rhythmically against the side of his book.

You watched him for a moment, admiring the way he bit his lip in thought. The way his glasses slid slightly down his nose made him look even more endearing. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread in your chest.

"Hey, Neuvillette," you called softly, leaning forward on your elbows. "Do you think we’ll actually survive this exam?"

He looked up, a playful glint in his eyes. "Survive? I’d say we’ll thrive if we keep up this momentum." His voice was smooth, almost melodic, and it sent a flutter through you.

"Is that so?" You grinned, trying to hide your excitement. "You’re the one who’s been dragging me through the chapters, I’m pretty sure I’m just along for the ride."

Neuvillette chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your heart race. "You underestimate your capabilities. You’re doing great, and you’re much smarter than you give yourself credit for."

His praise made you blush, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thanks, but I think I’d be even better if we took a break. How about a quick snack? We’ve been at this for hours."

"Snacks do sound quite delightful," he replied, closing his textbook with a soft thud. "Let’s take a break then."

You both made your way to the library café, the soft chatter of students providing a comforting backdrop as you selected your snacks. You grabbed a chocolate croissant, while Neuvillette opted for a classic blueberry muffin. As you settled back at your table, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of contentment.

"Do you think we’ll be okay?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence between you as you took a bite of your croissant.

"Absolutely," he said, his expression turning serious. "We’ve been studying hard, and I believe in us." He reached across the table, his hand hovering over yours for a brief moment before he pulled back. "Plus, we make a great team."

Your heart fluttered again at his words, and you felt a wave of warmth wash over you. "We really do, don’t we?"

The conversation flowed easily after that, with light banter and laughter filling the space around you. You shared stories of your favorite classes and discussed your study strategies, enjoying the effortless connection that seemed to blossom with every passing moment.

Eventually, you fell into a comfortable silence, munching on your snacks as you looked over your notes. Neuvillette leaned back in his chair, a contented smile on his face as he observed you.

"What is it?" you asked, looking up at him curiously.

"Just appreciating the moment," he replied softly. "It’s nice to share this experience with someone who makes it enjoyable."

You felt your cheeks flush at his sincerity, your heart skipping a beat. "I feel the same way. Studying with you makes it a lot less stressful."

He tilted his head slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I’m glad to be your stress-reliever. Should I be concerned about how much stress I might be causing you next week during the exam?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Only if you keep being so charming! I can’t focus when you look at me like that."

His expression shifted slightly, the teasing smile replaced by something more sincere. "I only look at you like that because I admire you, [Name]. You’re incredibly talented and hardworking, and I want to support you in any way I can."

You felt your heart soar at his words, and the air seemed to shift between you, creating a bubble of warmth and understanding. "Thank you, Neuvillette. That means a lot to me."

With the break coming to a close, you returned to your notes, but now with a renewed sense of motivation. The study session resumed, but this time, you found yourself glancing up at Neuvillette more often, your mind racing with thoughts not solely about the exam but about the connection you were fostering.

As the afternoon sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating the library in a warm glow, you couldn’t help but feel that no matter what happened in the upcoming exam, you had already found something even more valuable—a bond with Neuvillette that felt like a beautiful beginning of something new.

A/n: neuvillette is so babygirl 🙏

© ²⁰²⁴ ɪᴏᴍᴏʀᴜ ✰ do not repost, translate, plagiarize, use to train ai, or share my work on other social media platforms.

[callsign-rogueone]

assessments

Aaric Graycastle x reader part two of Aaric and Sunny's story words: 1.7k 🏷: set during Iron Flame but no real spoilers. canon-typical sparring. very vague mentions of injury (a bruise and a bandage.) more of Sunny's backstory perhaps.. I promise these titles will start getting more creative after this. this one's technically a double meaning -- assessment day for Emeterrio's class, and our bbs slowly starting to figure each other out.

You consider yourself excellent at reading people, a skill you’d honed in your years of working in a tavern in Calldyr city. It made long shifts more bearable, and earned you better tips — you knew exactly how to talk to each kind of person who walked in, what to do and say to make them like you, to think you were just like them.

All you need to do is look at someone for a minute, watch them and listen to them speak, and you can gather everything you need to know about them -- where they’re from, and what their deal is.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out your entire squad.

Rhiannon, the squad leader, is the responsible, motherly one, but she’s still fierce, and has something to prove. She wants your squad to be the best it can be, and has her sights set on being a wingleader next year. 

Ridoc is the class clown who is almost never serious, but cares for his friends deeply and won’t hesitate to fight for them. He’s smarter than he lets on, and a good fighter, even though he’s smaller than some of the other guys — which isn’t saying much, because they’re all giant — but maybe you could learn a thing or two from watching him.

Sawyer, Rhiannon’s second in command and Ridoc’s best friend, who balances him out with logic and restraint, but is definitely still frequently dragged into his shenanigans — though he takes his role seriously, feeling the need to prove himself to the world.

Violet, the daughter of two generals, who was expected to follow in their footsteps despite her medical condition, incredibly smart and observant, and not to be underestimated despite her small stature. 

Sloane, who was forced to be here because of the Treaty of Aretia, as her parents were accused of treason, holds a grudge against Violet for her unclear role in the death of her brother, but seems to respect Imogen enough not to kill the girl.

Imogen, the unaffected cool-girl, was also forced to be here, but she seems to have taken it in stride. She’s clearly not afraid of anything — not to stand out, with her pastel pink hair, nor to provoke anyone, being a skilled fighter both with words and hand-to-hand.

Nadine fits into a similar category with her dark purple hair and her unrestrained laughter. She seems less serious than the others, not at all worried, but it remains unclear if that’s because she’s overconfident or underestimating the challenges that second year will bring her.

…. and then there’s Aaric. You find yourself watching him for confirmation of what you’re supposed to be doing, but also out of sheer curiosity, because you just can’t figure him out. He doesn’t fit in any box you’d sorted the others into. He’s quiet, but not because he’s shy like Sawyer. Serious, but not the rigid soldier that Dain is. There’s just something about him that you just can’t put a name to, some quality you can’t quite describe.

He doesn’t look tired at breakfast, so he’d probably heeded the wingleader’s advice to sleep early — and he must not have stayed awake all night worrying about being killed.

You’d tossed and turned, but you’d been comforted by the theoretical safety of your top bunk, a good five feet above anyone, in a corner where you can see the whole room, and your two knives — one under your pillow, one clutched in your hand like a child would a stuffed animal. 

You wear one on each hip now, tucked into the belt loops of your pants. You should really get one of those leather rigs that the second-years have to hold them in a better position. They look much more secure, and more comfortable. Maybe you can invest your last bit of coin in a card game and make enough to buy one in town. Or maybe they’re issued to everyone later in the year — most of the older cadets have something similar.

You’d been one of the first ones awake, re-wrapping your bandage and changing clothes quietly, brushing your teeth before everyone else woke up and wanted to use the bathroom.

You learn these things quickly when you live with half a dozen other girls. 

Sloane had been slower to get ready, but you’d waited for her, lingering by your bunk and giving her a nervous half-smile — silently asking if she wanted to walk together. She’d agreed, falling into step beside you out to the morning formation.

It’s easy to spot where you’re supposed to be — look for the pink, purple, and silver heads. 

Imogen looks relieved to see Sloane in one piece — then she turns to you, looking unamused. “What are you so happy about?” she asks, raising a dark eyebrow. 

You know they won’t really understand, but you tell them anyway. “I woke up this morning in a bed of my own, looking at a roof over my head, with clothes on my back that I didn’t have to steal.”

Both of them soften, realizing just how differently you’d grown up. Their childhoods and teenage years may not have been the happiest, but they were safe, and didn’t have to worry about where their next meal would come from or where they’d sleep that night.

Aaric hadn’t realized that the service could be an escape for some people, rather than a death sentence or an act of patriotism or a moral obligation. Whatever you’d faced in the city had outweighed the possibility of dying in battle — despite being incredibly underprepared, you’re the one of the three of them that wants to be there the most. 

He has several questions, none of which he can ask without giving away his little ruse — and it’s been less than twenty-four hours since you’d all crossed the parapet. But still, he wonders about you. What’s your story? Where had you lived in Calldyr City? How many miles from the castle? Had your paths ever crossed? 

For a moment, anger roils through him. He’s aware of the disparities within his father’s kingdom, the way the other half — the other nine tenths, more like — lives, but to hear you speak of it so candidly… it’s clear you’ve never known anything other than struggling to make ends meet. 

Just another item on the laundry list of issues that your dear king is so content to ignore.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, as if he is at fault for your situation, as if he had been the one to deal you those cards — but is he not implicated in your suffering? He’s certainly complicit, passive, letting it happen.

Not that his father would listen to him if he asked him to do anything about it.

You give him a reassuring smile — you know from experience that talking about your life tends to make people uncomfortable. “Don’t be. I feel richer than the king.”

That makes him feel worse, actually.

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

“Bell, and Hannigan,” the professor calls, already looking and sounding bored. If everyone in the quadrant has to do one this week, that must be at least two hundred. You wonder how many have already occurred, and how many more he has to go. 

And what are they going to do with this information? Rank you somehow, for sure. Maybe they’ll split you into groups based on skill level? No, they probably aren’t that nice. Everyone has made it sound like it’s kill-or-be-killed here, literally. They probably aren’t offering any remedial courses.

You recognize the other first-year girl. She was one of the few who were up and moving before the wake-up call.

You give a nervous smile as you step onto the mat. She doesn’t return it. Either she doesn’t remember you, or she doesn’t want to acknowledge that her bed is less than fifteen feet away from yours.

Maybe this place is just like Calldyr city. The school may as well be a city of its own, with its size and population, and the way nobody here seems to care about each other, or be friendly at all — friendliness and trust would get you robbed in the nicer parts of the city, or maybe even killed in the “bad parts”, but you’d survived there your whole life.

You’ll have to do the cold-and-distant thing, you suppose. It would be nice to have friends, a group of people you can trust like Violet does, but you’ve done everything for yourself for years. You can keep doing that.

She isn’t too much bigger than you, but she looks like she knows what she’s doing, and that she’s confident she’ll win. She should be — you haven’t had anyone to practice with, lest it give away your plans. All you know is what you’ve seen from watching the drunks in the slums swing at each other, and they’re not very good examples. 

She lunges quickly, but you slip aside with ease. 

You duck a would-be punch to the jaw, attempting to kick her legs out from underneath her, but her boots are planted to the floor — it only irritates her and probably bruises her left shin.

No time to feel bad about it; she’s pushing forward again. She’s determined, you’ll give her that. 

It becomes clear that your duck-and-dodge strategy is effective in keeping yourself unscathed, but it won’t win you this fight.

You attempt a punch like hers, unsuccessfully; she catches your wrist and uses it to leverage you to the floor, where she presses you into the mat, wrenching one arm behind your back and using her weight to keep you down. You struggle for a moment before realizing she has you pinned too well. “I yield.”

“Hannigan wins,” Emeterrio announces monotonously, writing it down.

She lets go, but doesn’t offer you an apology nor help you up. Cold and distant it is, then — with everybody but your squad, who are supposedly not allowed to hurt you.

You’re three steps away from falling back into your place beside Sloane when you hear a crack and a scream.

Then all hell breaks loose in your corner of the gym.

[hazellvsq]

obviously things about the feud between frank and leo could have been executed better but one thing i do actually like about it is that both of them, in their intro books, reference being bullied in the past, and both of them have low self esteem and are seen as outcasts by others. which means that when they fight with each other, neither of them ever really sees himself as doing anything wrong because they’re both used to being on the receiving end of bullying and don’t really comprehend that they’re engaging in it themselves. more under the cut

annabeth and hazel have to explain to frank and leo respectively that the other is intimidated by them, and neither of them can really internalize that until late in the book. and leo can also justify his actions by being intimidated by frank, but he’s also intimidated by percy and annabeth, to the extent that he makes significantly less jokes at their expense, so intimidation is not actually what's motivating his antagonism. he enjoys being able to get a rise out of frank and looking smarter than him, and clearly knows that its different than teasing the people he’s actually friends with. likewise frank has no issue aiming for the jugular once he feels threatened and doesn’t seem to feel even slightly guilty about being mean to leo. and their own insecurities give them insight into the other's insecurities, which they then proceed to use against the other, (“am i worth two franks or three franks” from the guy who blew up new rome, “you care more about your ship than your friends” from the guy very obviously not considering leo to be his friend), all without admitting, to themselves or anyone else, that they’re jealous of the other. they're both projecting heavily, they both very much match each other's energy, and they have the entire ship cringing every time the two of them interact.

and i like that! it’s even one of the reasons that i ship them together, because it gives both their interactions an edge that neither of them have with other characters. they both have massive chips on their shoulders that are somewhat justified by their pasts, but it also can turn them into assholes. i like that the conflict between them revealed deeply buried mean streaks in two typically friendly characters. i think it reflects a certain type of teenage bullying where the mindset isn't "i'm going to antagonize this person i don't like," its "this person makes me feel bad and i'm reacting to it." its realistic! frank and leo show each other’s character flaws and blind spots, and the end result of it is genuine character development and growth for both once they actually try to get to know each other. and they get to a point of resolution without completely changing their personalities or erasing their flaws. its them finding genuine understanding without sandpapering away what makes their character's interesting.

[221bshrlocked]

breaking point

Pairings: Wrecker x afab!Reader

Words: 16707 (it wasn't meant to be this long but it ran away from me)

Warnings: So much fluff! Wrecker goes into 'protective mode' real hard. The old "skin-to-skin contact to stay alive' trope because why not. Slight dub-con but not really, not at all actually. Love confessions. Dirty Talk...or at least this is how I think Wrecker would sound when he's fucking your brains out. Fingering. Oral sex (female and male receiving). Safeword because I think it would be needed with someone as big and strong as Wrecker. Brief anal play. Squirting. Penetrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong people). Manhandling. Creampie/Breeding Kink. Size Kink because let's face it, this is Wrecker we're talking about.

Prompt: "Let me see those eyes."

Summary: You and Wrecker are stuck in a storm when Wrecker leads the two of you into an abandoned cabin. The both of you try to keep warm until Hunter and Tech find a way to come to you without crashing the Marauder. You manage to get some rest, but it seems that your bodies crave each other even while you're sleeping. And to no one's surprise, it's your breaking point.

A/N: @imarvelatthestars, I promised you one last one and here it is. It's so so late and I do apologize for that. I am a sucker for this trope to be honest and I feel you you'll enjoy it too. @cloneficgiftexchange I apologize to you as well for posting this way past the deadline but I wanted to tag you any way because being a part of this gift exchange really pushed me to write more, for characters that I haven't written for before and I thought I would never write for, and I am beyond thankful for that. Do let me know if the characterization is not right and I'll make those changes.

If one of his brothers told him a day ago that you would be relying on him to survive, Wrecker would have laughed until he was crying on the ground. He would have said it wouldn’t happen in a million rotations before walking away to try and find you so you can laugh at the joke as well. But the truth of the matter was, your survival did depend on him now, not because he was smarter or had a better plan, but because of the sheer strength he could exert to get you out of a tough situation. 

Which is what was happening now. 

He glances to the side to ensure you’re still breathing, and he frowns deeply when he sees how blue your face is turning from the snow surrounding the two of you. He pushes harder through the thick layer of white preventing the two of you from reaching the cabin you spotted before the snow picked up. Kriff, if it were anyone else, Wrecker would not have been this worried about the inconvenient circumstances he found himself in. He would not have been as tense and he would have already started to complain about the lecture he was sure Hunter was going to give him upon his return to the group.

But it wasn’t just anyone. It was you. And the others would have every right to blame him if something dire were to happen to you.

None of that mattered to Wrecker though. The only thing that he cared about was your safety, and what he could do to ensure you make it through the night. He looks back again and curses when he sees you slowing down. Not thinking of how more difficult it will be for him to make a path to the cabin, Wrecker turns around and takes three large steps towards you. 

“Come here,” he doesn’t leave any room for discussion, leaning down and picking you up with ease, and grumbling to himself when he finds you too weak to argue with him. 

Maker, you were worse than he thought.

“You’re going to stay awake for me, right an’edee?” Wrecker shakes you in his arms, waiting until your eyes flutter open before he begins walking towards the cabin again. 

“Th-that bett-tter not be a- a….kriff, an ins-sult!” Your teeth shudder through the warning, and if Wrecker wasn’t so worried about the frozen tear streaks on your cheek or the dark shade of bluish purple your skin is quickly becoming, he would have laughed at the pathetic comment and joked about how little you could do to him if he were actually insulting you. Wrecker doesn’t respond, no matter how much he wishes he can tell you that he wouldn’t stand the mere thought of you dying in his arms. This was not the time to bring up his emotions, and he wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward position since it looked like you were going to be alone for the next rotation or so. 

He curses the weather, hating that Hunter was right in telling him to find shelter soon since they wouldn’t be able to come and take them. The Marauder was kriffed up as is and this weather would certainly put them all under if they were to come and rescue the two of you now. 

No, the best option was to wait it out and hope some type of miracle happens where you stay alive and the rest of the Batch comes in time to leave the planet with the two of you still breathing. 

“We’re almost there, don’t- don’t fall asleep on me.” Wrecker says as he holds you up with one arm and uses his blaster to push down on the snow and make room for his legs to do the rest. He normally had great stamina, but the weather conditions, mixed with holding you in his arms, puts a strain on his muscles. It wasn’t that you were heavy, far from it. You were always light to him as a matter of fact. No, it was the fact that you were holding on to him like he was your life line, and the proximity between your chests was sending him into a frenzy. There was armor and piles of clothes separating the two of you, but Wrecker was hyper aware of having you so close to him, and with each little harsh breath you took, he felt his cheeks flush a deeper shade of red because he can feel it so close to his jaw. 

“Wake up, doc!” He notices that your eyes have been closed for longer than a minute, and when they flutter open and frown at him, he sighs in relief. It was better to have you angry with him than dead in his arms. 

Fuck, don’t think of her dead. 

“W-wreck, if you k-keep yell-lling in m-my ears, I- I…I’ll- st-top making you t-those coo-cookies you l-like so muh-much.” A strong gust of wind passes through, making you sob in his arms and nuzzle closer into his neck, the only bit of skin you had access to. Wrecker growls in anger, the sounds emitting from your mouth making him wish the group never agreed to Cid’s stupid mission. 

Feeling you shake violently in his arms, Wrecker musters up all the energy left in his body and trudges through the mountain of snow, not paying any attention to the extreme fatigue his body was feeling as he moved faster towards the safety of the small house. 

“I can live with that, mesh’la…as long as you’re still alive.” He isn’t really paying attention to what he’s saying, and he vaguely hears you gasp at his response. Wrecker looks down and sees your eyes widen in surprise, and he shakes his head in irritation because he already knows you were still planning on joking, even now when you were quickly becoming a human popsicle. 

“W-who are you ‘nd wh-what hav-ve you done with m-my Wr-wrecker?” If he wasn’t trying to bring you to safety, Wrecker would have fallen to the ground at the sound of you calling him yours. Never in his life did he imagine he’d hear such a sentiment from you, and he hated that it happened now of all times. Your little slip is enough to push him those last few steps and when he gets to the cabin, he brushes the datapad on the side and tries to push the buttons, his patience wearing out in an instance when he notices that it was frozen over. Without bothering to find a solution to the problem, Wrecker punches the keypad twice, breaking it into pieces in an instant. He hears the sound of the metal door unlocking and he apologizes as he sets you down on your feet so he can try to slide the door open. It takes him seconds to make enough space for the two of you to enter and he pushes you through quickly before following along, immediately closing the door behind him and turning around to look for any covers. 

He sees you huddled on the ground and reaches for you right away, holding you up in his arms again as he walks around to find a place to lay you down. He notices a fireplace and wonders briefly where the owners of this house were, but he doesn’t dwell too long on that thought, prioritizing your safety over propriety. When he finds a small bed against one of the walls, he sets you down near the fireplace and moves quickly to pull the mattress from the bed, knowing that you’ll need to be as warm as possible to survive the night. He brings it near the fireplace and carries you again, setting you down on it softly before looking around to see how he can start the fire. 

“O-over th…there,” you point at the lighter on the ground near the hole in the wall and Wrecker grabs it immediately, thanking the maker that the two of you were somewhat lucky in finding this home. He sees some wood on the grate and quietly whispers his gratitude to the universe for offering him a break, and for leaving him the tools that may just keep you alive through the night. Setting aside his weapons, Wrecker takes the lighter and collects as many things lying around as he can, throwing them over the wood to get it to start burning quicker. He glances back at you and feels his heart clench tightly at the sight of your shivering form. 

Within a matter of minutes, he has the fire going, its heat reaching you enough without setting the worn-down mattress on fire. He looks for anything to cover your body with, and when he finds a bunch of sheets lying around, he brings them all over and throws them over your shuddering body. Wrecker tries his best to cocoon you beneath the sheets, but when you don’t stop shuddering, his anxiety spikes dramatically and he paces around the small space to find anything that can help him keep you warm. 

“W-wreck?”

“I’m here, just- just looking for…ahhh karabast, there’s nothing here.” His anger seeps through his worries, and he can’t find a single care to pay attention to his own cold skin, wanting to ensure you are taken care of first before he worries about himself. 

“C-come here, pl-please.” Your teeth click through the request, and Wrecker sighs heavily before making his way back to you, he sits down beside your body and pouts when he notices that you weren’t getting any warmer. 

“I don’t know how to make you feel better. I’m trying, an’edee. I really am.” His eyes are tearing up, and if it weren’t for the fact that he clearly looked extremely in distress about you and the circumstances the both of you have found yourselves in, you would have teased him about being so sensitive, and thanked him for caring so much. But he didn’t seem like he’d enjoy that now, so you try to think through several options to see if anything could be helpful now. You’re quiet for a long time, but when you feel Wrecker reach for your shoulder and massage your skin through the multitude of sheets, you remember what one of your trainers told you about extreme climates and how minimal resources can still be useful. 

“Wrecker, I- I hav-ve an id-dea.” His face lights up in an instant only to fall in a frown when he sees you begin to push away the covers from your body.

“No, you have to stay warm.” He pushes you down and shoves the covers above you again, but you shake your head and hold onto his wrists to get him to listen to you. 

“Wreck, we…we need t-to sha-are body he-heat. This will…oh kriff, we’ll b-both be wah-warm.” He gives you a strange look before studying his own body, his eyes shifting down to see how he could possibly help you right now. 

“But…the armor is cold. How will that help you?” His question is genuine, and you simultaneously love and hate how innocent he continues to be even now. 

“You n-need to tah-take off your-r arm-or ‘nd…and clothes. S-so do I.” 

The world stills as soon as Wrecker understands what you’re telling him, and he removes his hand from your shoulders, unsure of how he should go about this new predicament. He turns away from you, wiping the tears from his eyes before searching the room one last time to see if he missed anything. He feels one of your hands reach for his own from beneath the covers, but he doesn’t dare look your way, afraid of what he’ll find if he meets your gaze. 

“Wrecker, s-sweetheart.”

His breath hitches in his throat at the pet name, but he continues to avoid you, knowing that he will break down immediately if he were to look into your eyes now and see how vulnerable you’re being with him. 

“Let me see those eyes.” He can never deny you any request. It was something he learned to accept early on ever since you were brought on as a medic to his group. Whatever you asked of him, he would do in an instance, not wanting to give you any trouble and wishing you could see the dedication and adoration he constantly held for you. 

With the utmost reluctance, Wrecker looks down at you and finds you smiling deeply at him. He hates that you’re still doing your job and trying to support him through his panic. You weren’t the one supposed to take care of him now, but the opposite. 

“Tr-trust me?” You whisper the question, waiting until he nods in response before you kick the covers away and begin to take your clothes off, layer by excruciating layer. Just as you remove your gloves, Wrecker stands to his height and makes quick work of his armor. When he’s down to his long sleeve shirt and cargo pants, he pauses and looks down at you, only to find you still very much clothed. 

“W-what’s wrong?” He asks while studying your muscles, hating the way you smile reassuriangly at him yet again to calm him down. 

“I- I can’t se-eem to t-take off m..my clothes. Yo-you’ll have to- to he-lp me.” 

In his defense, he reacted much less dramatically than he thought he would if he were to ever hear you request such a thing from him. Without meaning to, Wrecker drops the last piece of armor to the ground as soon as he registers your words, the harsh, loud sound of plastoid hitting the hard floor making you jump and frown up at him. He vaguely hears you curse beneath your breath before you shake your head and move your hands in a gesture that is meant to make him move quicker. 

“A-are you sure?” Wrecker knows it’s a stupid question. He was literally about to cuddle with you, so this didn’t really matter. But he wants to make sure he understands you clearly so he doesn’t think over his actions later on and wonder if he accidentally did something that made you uncomfortable with him. 

“Wreck…hu-rry up and strip s-so you ca-n he-help me.” You whine at him, shivering violently on the mattress when the sound of the wind picks up and begins to shake the house. Wrecker swallows the lump in throat before he listens to you and removes his clothes. 

So busy trying to think of anything else but the feeling he will have to endure when he has you in his arms, Wrecker doesn’t notice the way your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he takes his shirt and pants off to reveal his muscular, gigantic build to you. It was no surprise that the man was big. Hell, you often relied on his size and how easy it is for him to do something as mundane as carry an entire crate of weapons by himself. But looking at him now, in nothing but a pair of tight underpants, you can help but gawk at him hungrily, your heart threatening to freeze in your ribcage at the sight of his muscles tensing and flexing with each small movement he makes. His gorgeous skin is littered with scars, ones you wish you could spend your time healing so he doesn’t feel any more pain from them. But perhaps the worst of it all, you realize you don’t really want to fix any of them because they made him so perfect, so special and unique to you. 

It’s what made you favor him out of the others.

The fact that he was hurt so many times and still kept that optimistic, humorous side of him shining brighter than the trauma and pain he’s dealt with throughout his entire life. You had it bad for him from the beginning, from the first time he joked about your height and how you couldn’t possibly be a medic because of how cute you looked.

Kriff, you didn’t think this through. 

You were about to feel him wrap his entire body around you and you would have to sit there and deal with the impure thoughts and your own body’s reactions to being so close to him. You would have to keep yourself in check through an entire night of having skin-to-skin contact with the one man in this universe that you longed to feel more intimately. Everywhere. 

“Hey, you okay?” Wrecker’s gruff voice snaps you out of your haze and you nod frantically at him before motioning for him to come and help you with your clothes. When he kneels down beside you, you do your best to avoid eye-fucking him any further, a task that becomes difficult with each second he spends kneeling beside you and giving you a perfect view of his thick thighs and muscular arms, and those kriffing tight underpants that leave nothing to the imagination. 

You shift your attention to his fingers as they undo the fastenings on your clothes, and you think that his hands might be shaking as he begins to remove your outer robes but you brush the thought aside. No, it couldn’t be. He was probably just nervous for you, maybe even cold now that he was nearly naked, nothing more. He definitely didn’t share your feelings. 

As he begins to reveal your skin to the harsh, cold air, your teeth tap against each other more violently, making him whisper the softest of apologies to you each time he removes a layer from your shivering body. It’s only when he has you down in nothing but a shirt and the thermal leggings you wore beneath your cargo pants that he stops touching you and removes his hands from your body. 

“W-what’s the matt-tter?” You ask hesitantly, afraid he was seeing something that you weren’t aware of. 

“I uhh, I wanted to ask if you’re sure about this. Before I- before I take off any more of your clothes.” If you weren’t near hypothermia, you would have told him that he was such an adorable gentleman for wanting to receive consent from you one last time. But with each second that passes and you shudder in your own skin, your patience thins out. So you do the only thing you know will get him to see how much you need him. 

You beg. 

“Please…Wrecker, I- I need you. N-need your war-rmth, need to f-feel you ag-ainst me.” You reach out for his hands and bring them to your shirt once more, barely holding back from sobbing when you see his expression shift instantly to one of-

Well, you weren’t actually sure of the look he was giving you now. 

It doesn’t matter, however, because Wrecker jumps into action right away, dragging the edge of your shirt above your arms and throwing it aside before getting to work on your pants. You clench your thighs when you hear the sound of the zipper coming undone, but remember that you don’t want to make him uncomfortable by how unholy your thoughts were.

Little did you know that as Wrecker pulled down your pants and chucked them aside, he was having similar thoughts as you. With each bit of skin he revealed to his gaze, he had to think of anything other than how soft you’d feel against his skin. He can feel his cock harden in his underpants, and the last thing he wanted was to make this night worse by looking like a creep who just wanted to take advantage of a wounded woman in his arms. Wrecker bites into his cheek to focus on anything but how pretty you looked. It’s only when he hears you whine his name again that he snaps out of his haze and looks down at you. 

Fuck. 

He should have been more careful when he tugged the shirt above your head. 

“Uhhh is- is that supposed to be this loose?” Wrecker points at the chest band slowly unraveling from around your breasts and he turns away immediately when you look down and see what he’s referring to. 

“For k-kriff’s sake Wreck, I- I’m about to d-die and you…you’re wor-rried about my b-boobs?” He has every right to be embarrassed. He knows that. You know that. The stupid winds outside know that. But unfortunately for him, you often cracked jokes when you also felt embarrassed, and this situation was definitely the worst moment in your life. 

Never in your life did you think Wrecker would take your clothes of so you can stay alive and not to fuck your brains out. 

Thankfully, the house creaking and shaking brings the two of you back to reality and Wrecker looks down at your body once more, quietly studying you for a moment before growling something beneath his breath as he moves beside you. He makes sure that he’s on your right side and not your left so you can have access to the fireplace, and you nearly cry from how thoughtful he’s being. But then you feel his skin slide against your own and your flesh erupts in goosebumps, ones that you know Wrecker will notice and wonder why they weren’t present before. He slips beside you and puts his arm out, shutting his eyes in pain when you immediately turn in his arms and cuddle your whole body into his side. He can feel your hair tickle his inner arm and he smiles to himself for a moment, pretending that you were currently laying nearly on top of him because you wanted to and not because you had to. 

Then you bring your whole lower body against him and slip your leg in between his thighs and he almost jumps out of the bed and away towards the fire. 

“Ah karabast, you’re so cold!!” He yells dramatically, looking down at you and regretting his comment when he sees the guilty look that overtakes your pretty features. You remove your hand from him and begin to turn away, but he is much quicker than you, grasping your wrist and bringing you back against his chest until you’ve settled down again. 

“I’m sorry an’edee, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His apology is too sweet to your ears, and you brush it aside to keep a hold on yourself. Wrecker mistakes your avoidance for discomfort and he feels bad for being stuck with you. He may have only had one eye but he wasn’t blind to your reactions, or those of the women the batch often came in contact with. 

Everyone loved Hunter, it was hard not to. His brother was arguably the best looking, and even Crosshair got more attention back during the war. Women tended to like the bad-body aura they both exuded. But him…no, he rarely received a second glance. People would complain either about his size or how childish he was. They were never interested in him. 

And he hated that this wasn’t any different now. Wrecker pouts as he slowly wraps the arm you’re resting your cheek on around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his chest so you don’t see the sad look he is sure he is sporting now. He quickly pulls the covers above the two of you, tucking you in to the best of his abilities before looking up at the ceiling to avoid any eye contact with you. 

You’re still shaking in his arms, but as time goes by, Wrecker feels you relax in his arms and grow warmer. Before the end of the hour, your feet and legs are nowhere near as cold as they were when he came into bed with you. He thanks the maker that your plan worked, and although he’s a little cold himself, he thinks nothing of it and checks on you every once in a while, sneaking a few glances at you to see if you’re still awake. 

“Maker, I thought I’d never feel my toes again.” You break the silence all of a sudden, making Wrecker look down at you and smile when he feels you wiggle your feet against his calves. Even now he’s much taller than you, and you have to tilt your head back farther than normal to get a proper look at him. 

“Thank you Wreck, you saved my life.” You smile at him, nuzzling into his biceps when he returns the expression and taps your shoulder twice to let you know that he didn’t mind. 

“It was nothing, mesh’la. I’m just glad you’re still alive and breathing.” There it goes again, the slip of the tongue he always experienced when you looked at him with those beautiful, innocent eyes of yours. 

“What do those words mean?” You don’t realize you’re drawing random patterns on his chest until you ask him the question and he completely misses it, his focus never wavering away from your fingers or his chest. 

“Huh?”

“I’m assuming they’re Mando’a, but I don’t know what they mean.” At the mention of his native language, Wrecker’s eyes widen in horror and he turns away from you, choosing to stare at the opposite wall as if it was much more interesting than the conversation now. 

“It’s uhhh, it’s nothing. Don’t- don’t worry about it.” Wrecker attempts to distract you, but you’re determined to know what they mean. Something about the way his tone of voice turns gentler when he says those words makes you think that they’re special nicknames, perhaps even ones that a lover would call his significant other to convey how much they care. 

“If you’re calling me something bad, I swear I won’t talk to you anymore.” You mean to joke with him, tease him a little to get him to tell you what those words mean. But Wrecker takes your response to heart, and he meets your gaze suddenly, his eyes swimming with an anxiety that rivaled his worries for you hours ago. He squeezes your shoulder tightly, and you know he isn’t aware of what he’s doing because he turns fully in your arms and makes sure you’re staring right at him before he replies. 

“I would never call you something bad. You have to know that! I- I just…I can’t tell you what they mean.” His voice is filled with panic, and you feel bad for teasing him too much. Before he can throw himself in a frenzy again, you reach out and cup his cheek softly, rubbing the corner of his lips with your thumb to soothe his worries away. 

“I was only kidding Wrecker, I didn’t mean it. I know you’d never say anything bad about me, I was just joking.” You enunciate every syllable, wanting to make sure he fully accepts that you were only messing around with him and don’t actually believe he’d say something rude to you. 

“You promise?”

“Yeah, yeah I promise.” 

You look into his eyes for what feels like hours, and as you lean into his space, eyes searching his own for any hesitation to how close you’re moving into him, a loud cackling sound emits from the fireplace and scares the two of you. Wrecker goes into protective mode instantly, pulling you harder into his chest and wrapping his other arm around your back to keep you safe. He doesn’t mean to be aggressive in the way he handles you, but when he takes hold of the back of your neck and shoves you into the space between his shoulder and his neck, you gasp at how easy it is for him to take control of you, how natural it felt to touch him so intimately and have him grab you with such intensity. Instead of reassuring him that you’re fine, you give in to the moment and wrap your arm around his waist, not bothering to get it around his whole back and instead choosing to roam your hand over the muscles contracting and flexing beneath his skin. He remains still for a while, and you smile when you realize it’s probably because he wants to make sure that the fire wasn’t about to spill out and burn the whole place down. 

Taking in a deep breath, you rub your thighs together when the scent of his musk, mixed with whatever soap he uses to wash himself, hits your senses, nearly driving you into a lust filled haze because of how spicy and sweet his smell is to your desperate senses. You’re about to stick your tongue out and lick across his jugular when Wrecker pulls you back and rests you on the mattress again. He’s still eyeing the fireplace, but when he looks down and meets your eyes, his nervousness comes crashing down with a force of a thousand battle droids. He stops breathing immediately, taking in the sight of your dilated pupils and parted lips, and wishing you were reacting this way because he held you in his arms and not because you were afraid of the fire cackling behind you. 

His eyes move to your lips for a split second, but he remembers his plan of not being creepy with you and decides to lay back down again. You clear your throat and rest your cheek on his chest once more, avoiding any and all eye contact with him so you don’t accidentally do something that crosses the boundaries between the two of you and makes him regret every helping you out. 

“Get some rest, an-” he stops himself before he says the rest of the pet name, shaking his head before turning his attention to the ceiling again. “Get some rest, doc.”

“Good night, Wreck.” You whisper against his skin, accidentally grazing your lips against his pectorals and sending a fresh wave of arousal down his spine, one that shoots straight to his cock and hardens him in a matter of seconds. He thanks the heavens that he isn’t spooning you now, knowing that you would probably feel his hard-on if you were in a more compromising position than the one you chose. 

“Hmm.” Wrecker doesn’t dare try to speak again, knowing that if he were to attempt and form a longer response, he’d either give in and confess his feelings, or throw all caution aside and show you what he’s been thinking of doing to you ever since he met you. 

He shuts his eyes to get some rest, but as the night goes on, and the wind doesn’t stop howling outside, Wrecker barely manages to sleep. Even worse, each breath you take sends a shiver down his spine, and he looks at you every once in a while, unable to hold himself back from enjoying the close proximity to you. He can feel your skin growing warmer as time goes by, and he thanks the Force for allowing him to be the one helping you. 

Then his eyes trail down and see the top of your breasts and the smile drops from his face. Wrecker swallows the lump in his throat, and he unintentionally squeezes your shoulder tightly to bring you closer to him. The action makes you groan, and Wrecker fears that he’s woken you. He stops breathing, afraid that the slightest motion of his chest rising and falling will wake you up. A few minutes pass by and when he’s sure you’re still asleep, he forces his muscles to relax, only for his entire body to go rigid again as soon as you let go of him and roll on your back. 

His eyes widen in horror when he notices the band around your chest sliding down your breasts and revealing more of your soft skin to him. Wrecker turns away immediately, not wanting to take advantage of the trust you clearly had in him. He slams his hand over his eyes, silently wishing for a miracle to happen so his mind doesn’t go insane. He has you so close to him, touching him where he dreamt for so long, but you were still out of reach. 

The sudden movement of your whole body makes him panic and he looks down in time to see you turn around and face the fire. You nearly topple from the mattress towards the source of heat, but Wrecker quickly wraps his arm around your waist to keep you from accidentally burning yourself. You stop moving for a moment, and he sighs in relief, wondering to himself how you managed to stay alive all this time when you were so clumsy. He tries to slide his arm away from your stomach but your hand is immediately on him, pulling him back against you. Wrecker grumbles to himself, tugging his arm a little harshly so this night remains in tact, more or less, but you’re even more aggressive in your sleep, and without caring for the strain you’re putting on the man behind you, you grab his arm and pull it hard, sending his entire body crashing into your back and engulfing you in his heat. 

Wrecker can’t believe what’s happening to him, and he sits up on his elbow to see if you were awake and just playing a joke on him. But as he suspected, you’re fast asleep, snoring lightly and enjoying the heat you were receiving from all sides. He looks around to see if there’s anything he can place between your backside and his crotch, knowing that the longer he remains this close to you, the more his body will react to your proximity without thinking much of the consequences. He lays back down and puts as much space between your bodies as he can, and it works for a while too. Wrecker is on high alert now, knowing he won’t get an ounce of sleep out of fear of doing something to you while he’s unconscious. 

The loud thundering of the snowstorm makes you jolt in his arms, and he’s about to check on you to make sure you’re alright when you scoot closer to him, until there isn’t an inch between your back and his front. Wrecker frowns, slamming his head down on the pillow and willing himself to think of anything but how perfect and warm and soft you feel in his arms. To make matters worse, you hug his arm and bring it to your face, nuzzling into his wrist as sleep continues to overtake your mind and torture the poor soul trying to keep you alive. Wrecker can almost feel the rise and fall of your breasts with each breath you take, and he shivers when your breath roams over the sensitive skin of his wrist every couple of seconds. You’ve completely taken over his mind and body, and you weren’t even aware.

“Kriff,” he whispers to himself, regretting ever coming on this mission with you. Before tonight, he had to conjure up dreams of having you the way he always wanted to. But after this night, he’d have to live on as if he didn’t know exactly how you felt in his arms, how sweet you smelled to him, how easy it would have been to tease you until you’re awake before begging you to touch him the way he wished. He’d have to pretend that tonight didn’t mean the world to him. 

The nostalgia that hits him is unbearable, and it’s enough to calm his body, as if the thoughts of the future built a wall between him and you, one that was convincing enough to have him not react so viscerally to you. 

Wrecker shuts his eyes, surrendering himself to the floral scent of your hair and allowing your warmth to finally lull him to sleep. 

It’s hours later, but too soon for him, when he finally jolts awake from the best sleep he’s ever gotten in his life. A quick glance outside lets Wrecker know that it may be the morning but the storm was very much still roaring outside. He looks behind him to see if he’s received any coms from Hunter, and when he doesn’t see any flashing lights signaling a message from him, he rests back down and yawns tiredly, shutting his eyes once more to try and steal some rest again. 

A soft moan fills the silent room, and although it is barely audible, it sounds like an alarm to Wrecker’s ears. He’s wide awake in an instant, his mind trying to understand whatever sound just emitted from you, and when he decides that it may have been a figment of his imagination, you roll your ass against him and push your lips into his wrist, groaning into the damp skin too lewdly for the man behind you to ignore. 

Wrecker freezes, his muscles tensing painfully beneath his taut skin as soon as he feels you grind into him harder. For a brief moment, he thinks this may just all be a dream, a beautiful, unadulterated sensation his mind was conjuring up in his sleep because of the proximity he held with you. But then your tongue sweeps over the pulse point on his wrist and Wrecker knows he’s wide awake. 

He’s wide awake, and you are touching him as if he belonged to you. 

As if you belonged to him. 

The hand on your hip squeezes you, sending a jolt of hot energy down your spine and making you push your body into Wrecker’s front even more. 

“Kriff,” he swears beneath his breath, shutting his eyes and surrendering to the pleasure for a second. 

But the second becomes two…then three…then four.

And before he knows it, Wrecker is rolling his clothed, hard cock into the curve of your ass, biting into his cheek to silence himself from spilling compliments of how perfect you feel against him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be taking advantage of your unconscious form as you unintentionally used him to please yourself. Wrecker knows, more than anything, that he should remove himself from you and wake you up so things don’t become awkward between the two of you. 

 But you feel so kriffing good against him, and he’s only dreamt of having you like this for hundreds of rotations. 

“Hmm, please….W-wreck, I need more.” 

The whispered words are all he needs to snap out of the haze you’ve thrown him into, and without meaning to, Wrecker pushes up on his elbows and questions what you just said rather loudly. 

“What was that?” 

The sound of his gruff, booming voice wakes you in an instant, and you sit up quickly, immediately grabbing for the nearest object you can find to defend yourself from whatever is happening. You look around confusingly, adjusting your eyes to the reddened darkness around you. When you realize nothing is trying to kill you, you turn around and look at Wrecker to ask him why he nearly made you deaf. 

All questions roaming around your mind evaporate into thin air when you look him over and take in the disheveled state he’s in. His skin is glistening with sweat, and you wonder briefly if it is because he runs hot in general or if this was because of how close you were to him for the past few hours. You blink the sleep from your eyes as you study him further, and before you can remind yourself that you shouldn’t be ogling him so openly, your attention shifts south and you notice a prominent tent in his underpants, one that sends your heart fluttering wildly in a matter of seconds. 

Maker, you knew the man must have been proportional, but nothing could have prepared you for how blessed he is. 

The thought of touching him, feeling him beneath the palm of your hands as you made him whimper your name in ecstasy, instantly reminds you of what you were dreaming. You feel your face flush with heat as you recall the filthy images your mind conjured up while you were asleep. You knew being in his arms would probably throw you into a horny frenzy, but you didn’t think it would be so instantaneous, so vivid. You could almost feel his cock push against your pulsing core, and you clench your thighs together to alleviate the pressure building inside you. It’s only when you hear Wrecker clear his throat that you remind yourself to keep it together. The last thing you want is to give him any inclination of what you were dreaming of, and you knew for a fact there would be no escaping the awkwardness any time soon, not until the rest of the Batch rescued you. 

“Umm, you- you should fix your-” Wrecker doesn’t finish the sentence, and you blink at him for a few seconds, wondering what he could possibly be going on about. You follow where he’s pointing, and nearly fall backwards in horror when you look down and see the chest binding no longer covering your breasts. You cross your arms around your chest instantly, all the while trying to figure out how to fix the band without giving Wrecker an eyeful of your skin. 

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look.” Wrecker breaks through the frantic movement, and you look up to see if he was being genuine or teasing. You can tell immediately how apologetic he is from the way he’s staring down at the sheets beneath you, and the pout he was unintentionally seducing you with. 

“It’s okay, it’s not like you tugged on them or anything.” You try to diffuse the tension with a chuckle, but Wrecker continues to avoid you, his frown only deepening the longer you try to fix the binding. 

“Wrecker, is everything okay?” You give up on covering yourself, and instead drag the sheets from around you, wrapping them haphazardly around your shoulders to hide the effects your body is undergoing from being so close to Wrecker. 

“I’m sorry an’edee,” if you didn’t know better, you’d think Wrecker was apologizing for the predicament you found yourselves in. But from the way he was avoiding your gaze, and how tense his muscles remained even now, you know there’s something else on his mind. 

“For what?”

“I touched you…while you were sleeping. I- I didn’t mean to, I swear. It’s just…you felt so good, so warm and…perfect. I tried to stop, believe me I did…but you kept moving against me and teasing me with those sweet sounds, and I nearly lost it. Then you moaned my name and told me you wanted more and I-...I just wanted to feel you.” Wrecker looks up for a second, and when he sees the way your eyes are glazed over in shock, perhaps even disgust, he turns his sight away and hunches over to make himself appear smaller so you don’t think he’ll try anything with you. 

It’s quiet for longer than he likes, but Wrecker swears he won’t try to make any more excuses, especially since it wasn’t really your fault that you were touching him so intimately in your sleep. It didn’t take a genius to know that no one is ever truly in control of their dreams, so he couldn’t fault you for what you were doing. 

He was the one who was awake. He had full control of himself and you. 

And he chose to betray your trust. 

Regret and turmoil roll off of him in violent waves, making you wish you were brave enough to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. You aren’t sure what exactly he did while you were sleeping, but you know that he didn’t cross any lines you’d consider awfully inappropriate. As far as you were concerned, his underpants were still on, and so were yours. He even apologized for looking at your chest while trying to warn you about your binding. There was no way he wouldn’t tell you if he did something more. 

You trusted him that much. 

A hundred responses brush through your mind, but you know he won’t feel better until he’s made aware of the reason behind your own behavior. There was no way out of this that wouldn’t be awkward for you, or him, or worse…both of you. 

“It’s not your fault, Wrecker.”

“I was awake, and you were sleeping. It is my fault.” He furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at you, only for his body to relax completely when he sees you biting your lower lip and slowly letting go of the sheets around you. He glances to the side to give you some bit of privacy, swallowing the lump in his throat when you shift around until you’re kneeling in front of him, completely nude except for the fabric covering your lower half. He can almost see your skin from his periphery, but he keeps his gaze away from you, afraid of how he’d react if he were to look upon you again. 

“But…I was the one dreaming of you Wreck. I- I was the one moaning your name to try and get you to fuck me harder in my dream.” The words fall from your lips easily, and you feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders as soon as Wrecker slowly turns to look at you, disbelief and hope etched on his beautiful features as his mind registers what you just confessed to him. 

“I was the one begging you to make me cum…gods, I needed it so badly Wrecker, and I could feel you bringing me close to that sweet pleasure. I was so close, but then you woke me.” You hope you aren’t making a mistake by revealing to him your heart’s desires, mostly because you’re not sure what you would do if he turned you down now. 

Like everything else, it takes a second for Wrecker to react, but he doesn’t respond the way you think he would. He looks in between your eyes as he slowly reaches for your hands. You look down to see what he’ll do, and nearly feel your heart leap out of your chest when he brings both of your palms to his cheeks and shuts his eyes. 

“I didn’t think you wanted me…not- not in the way I wanted you.” For a man who always had a lot to say, you’re surprised he responds with such a simple confession of his own and not something more dramatic. 

“How could I not want you? You’re amazing.” You don’t hesitate, not in your words, nor in the way you move closer to him until you’re straddling his thighs. Wrecker’s breath hitches, and you smirk at him as you throw your arms over his broad shoulders and kiss the corner of his mouth. 

His arms are around you soon after, nearly crushing you with the weight and strength of them as they wrap tightly around you and bring you flush against him. You feel your nipples harden as the hair across Wrecker’s chest slides against your breasts, and before you can say anything else, Wrecker smashes his lips with your own, swallowing your surprised moans as he shoves his tongue in your mouth and finally tastes you. 

You’re shocked by how forward he suddenly becomes, but you don’t dare question the spike of confidence coursing through his veins, knowing that he might turn shy again if he so much as smells reluctance on you. Giving into his possessive touches, you part your lips and let him have full control of every inch of you. The passion he offers you is overwhelming, but you don’t dare ask him to calm down, the need to feel him overpowering you and taking everything he wants from you outgrowing any thoughts you had regarding your safety. 

Wrecker can’t believe you’re in his lap, grinding down on him as you allow him to kiss you just as he dreamt he would if he ever had you naked and willing in his arms. He breaks the kiss to allow the two of you to breathe, but as he’s about to lunge for you again, his eyes roam down your body and watch as a bead of sweat rolls down your neck, to your sternum, until it slows down in between your heaving breasts. He forgets how to breathe for a moment, the sight of your hardened nipples awakening something deep inside him, something that whispers for him to bite and lick across your chest until you’re screaming his name. 

Without a warning, Wrecker leans down and licks across your breast before taking your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting on the sensitive peak until he feels your nails rake across his shoulders, down the muscles of his arms. He growls at your touch, grazing his teeth over your flushed skin until you’re moaning his name again. 

“Oh my maker, W-wreck…your mouth feels so good.” You throw your head back, giving Wrecker more access to your skin so he can mark it as he likes. Wrecker doesn’t waste a second, leaving marks with his teeth and hands over every inch he can reach, and before you know it, he’s laying you down and settling in between your thighs. You grab the sheets beneath you in an attempt to hold onto whatever sanity is still left in you, but as Wrecker drags his calloused palms down your body and over your thighs, you can’t help but think of how he’d feel when he finally takes you. 

“Wreck…I need you. Need you to fuck me, please.” You open your eyes far enough to look down and watch as Wrecker digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs and stomach, waiting until visible marks appear on your skin before he moves to another part of you that isn’t bearing his mark just yet. He looks up and meets your eyes for a second, and you think he’s finally going to put you out of your misery and take what he wants. 

But he doesn’t move a muscle, waiting until he has your undivided attention before he speaks again. 

“I need to get you ready for me an’edee…then I’ll give you what you want.” The words fall from his lips like sin, and if your mind wasn’t completely engrossed in the sensations Wrecker was bringing to your body, you would have asked him where he learned to talk like that. 

And you’re about to inquire after that too, but you feel his fingers slip beneath your panties and slowly tug them down, and you cease to breathe, watching closely as Wrecker doesn’t break eye contact while rolling the article of clothing down your legs before discarding them behind him. Neither of you say anything for what feels like forever, but as soon as Wrecker begins to lean down, you reach for his chin and hold it in the palm of your hand. 

“Wait.”

“You- you don’t want me to-”

“It’s not that.” You cut him off before he thinks you’re having any doubting thoughts of what the two of you are doing.

Wrecker stares at you with nothing but confusion, and you hate how such a simple, boyish expression can bring you to your knees if you weren’t already on your back. 

“I want to taste you too.” You bite into your lower lip in an attempt to hide the embarrassing admission. If Wrecker is surprised by what you just said, he doesn’t say anything, instead sitting back up and grabbing your legs so he could roll you on top of him. You squeal in shock at the sudden movement, but say nothing as he lays down where you were a second ago, with you straddling his hips. 

“Wrecker?”

“Turn around for me an’edee.” He orders with a glint of mischief in his eyes, making you look down at him with furrowed eyebrows. You’re not sure what he’s planning, and Wrecker sits up on his elbows to get a better look at you. 

“You said you wanted to taste me, and I won’t give up what I had in mind either. So, turn around for me.” He states again, as if the brief description was all you needed to understand what he wants from you. It’s only when he tilts his head to the side as he slowly brings the palm of his hand in between your thighs do you finally catch on to what he’s thinking. Your eyes widen in horror at the position Wrecker wants you to get into, mostly because you never thought he’d be the type of person to be so open with what he’d like to try, let alone have you so bare and exposed to him. The man was always particularly shy around you, something you noticed early on when he’d hesitate before chatting up with you. You never thought he would be so forward now, especially since this was new terrain for the both of you. 

“You mean you…you want me to- you know,” you point at his face and support your weight on his chest when he pushes you up with his hips to get you to move more quickly.

“Sit on my face baby, let me get you nice and wet for me.” Wrecker growls the order one last time, smiling wickedly at you when you swallow the lump in your throat as you begin to move atop him. He waits patiently for you to turn around and straddle his waist again but facing away from him. As much as he wants to grab your ass and pull you on his face, he waits until you get comfortable with the new position before he slides his fingers down your back to the top of your glutes.

It’s too soon for you, but not nearly soon enough for Wrecker, when you finally reach down and lay your hands over his thighs. The tent on his underpants is more painfully prominent at this point, and you feel bad for dragging out this moment this much. 

Wrecker massages your skin, and when he’s sure you won’t jump away from his touch, he slowly pulls your body towards him until your thighs perfectly frame his face. 

Whatever he pictured in his mind comes nowhere near what he is gazing upon now, and he forces himself to reel back the comments threatening to flow from his mouth so he doesn’t end up scaring you with how much he wants you. It’s when he takes a long whiff of your scent that he finally registers your small fingers tracing the length of him through the fabric keeping him from your eyes. He groans your name with a low whisper, equal parts turned on by nearly tasting you on his tongue and the sensation you were currently bringing upon him. 

“Please baby,” you’re not sure if he’s begging you to take him in your mouth or asking you to bring yourself closer to him so he can taste you, but you don’t find it in yourself to care, not when you finally had Wrecker so enthusiastic and excited beneath you, ready to cause havoc on your willing body. Without wasting another second, you slip your fingers beneath the elastic band of the edge of his briefs and push them as far down as he allows you to, aggressively tugging on the sides as well until the material is around his thighs and away from where you’re dying to have him. 

“Oh fuck me!” 

Like earlier, you are perfectly aware that Wrecker must have been packing a dangerous weapon. No man his size wouldn’t be, especially with how confidently he carried himself all the time. But nothing would have prepared you for the sheer girth and length of him. Slowly bringing your hands to his cock, you chuckle to yourself when you realize you can’t even wrap your fingers around the whole of him, the laugh turning into a long sigh as you notice just how much he was going to stretch you, how deep he was going to claim you when he finally fucks you like you dreamt. 

“That’s the plan sweetheart!” Wrecker mumbles from in between your thighs, his breath sending a fresh wave of arousal across your body and making you wish he was already fucking you within an inch of your life. You’re about to retort in kind when you feel his tongue swipe across your folds, the rough muscle sending spikes of heat up your spine and making you fall unceremoniously into his dick. You let out a sigh of relief, mumbling incoherently when Wrecker chuckles, presumably with pride, at the effect he was having on you just by the mere touch of his tongue against your engorged clit. He pulls away for a brief second, commanding you to take him in your mouth before going back to it again and slowly fucking you with his tongue 

“Wrap your pretty lips around my cock, an’edee.” He barely enunciates before he’s diving into your cunt again, ripping a guttural cry of pleasure from your throat, one that makes you realize he needn’t do much to have you at his will. With as much confidence as your body can muster up, you lean over and purse your lips until enough saliva collects on your tongue. Parting them slightly, you watch as your drool stretches from your mouth to the head of his cock, coating the angry tip of his dick before sliding down his length. It must be a surprise to Wrecker because he unintentionally bucks his hips into the air, sending his cock just a little closer to your mouth. Taking advantage of his momentarily distracted mind, you lean down and open your lips as wide as possible, barely managing to engulf them around him. 

Wrecker growls his pleasure, throwing his head back for a second before returning his assault on your pussy with blind determination. You nearly forget you’re meant to be pleasuring him as well when you feel his teeth graze your clit, and as he starts sucking on the bundle of nerves violently, you can’t help but whine around his cock. The sound is music to his ears, and he widens his legs even more before bending his knees and resting his feet flat against the beat-up mattress. His stance scares you briefly, but you realize that he isn’t moving his hips or trying to push his cock deeper, his self-awareness somehow making you wish he would take advantage of the control he has on you and fuck your face until you choke around him. 

The thought doesn’t leave your mind as you swirl your tongue around the bulbous head of his dick, and you stretch your palms to try and wrap them around him, hoping that you can pleasure the length of him without your mouth. His chest shakes beneath your stomach, and you don’t realize you’re rolling your hips on his tongue until Wrecker whispers how good you taste and how perfect you’re being for him. 

You want him to feel equally satiated, and as you lower one of your hands to cup his balls, Wrecker forgets he’s meant to be controlling his touches and thrusts up into your mouth, sending more drool down your chin and onto his cock with how far back he managed to reached. He knows what he’s done immediately, and he pulls you off of him, resting his hips back down so he’s far away from your mouth. 

“Fuck, I- I’m so sorry love. You just s-surprised me and- I didn’t mean it. I swear I would never try to-”

“Wreck…” The sound of his name falling sinfully from your lips manages to shut him up quickly, and he waits until you break the silence so he doesn’t misunderstand your moans. 

“I want you to fuck my face!” You claim with determination, nearly laughing at the way Wrecker curses beneath his breath from the sudden outburst. 

“What? It’s not…I don’t want to hurt you baby.”

“You won’t hurt me Wreck. I promise. I just really really want you to fuck my face…want you to use me for your pleasure…I want to feel you down my throat baby, so far down that when you come, I can barely taste you from how wide you’re stretch my mouth.” Wrecker could choke on air if he wasn’t already holding his breath and listening to every word intently. He can’t believe his ears, mostly because you were never one to be so bold and forward, let along unwise in your choices. 

“But…you’ll get hurt.”

“Hmm, okay h-how about this? Let’s have a safeword, yeah?”

“A safeword?” You can feel his breath on your wet cunt, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were trying to meet his concerns with a solution, you would have pushed your ass back down and rode him until you came on his tongue. 

“Yeah, a safeword. Or in this case, a gesture that equals a safeword. Since my mouth will be full of your cock, I won’t be able to speak. But if I tap your thighs three times, you pull out and let me breathe. Same goes to you of course. If I’m suffocating you or anything, you tap three times on…on-” You’re trying your hardest to keep your thoughts from going astray, but with each moment you waste, you can’t help but regret how good his dick would feel marking your throat. 

“Your ass?” You know the question is genuine, but you can’t help but laugh when it comes off a little more enthusiastic than he would like. 

“S-sure. Tap three times on my ass and I’ll get off.”

“Oh you’ll be getting off alright…on my tongue, with my fingers stretching your pretty little pussy so I can fuck you like you want.” You should have known that Wrecker would make jokes now of all times, but you clear your throat and pinch his thigh to get him back on track. 

“Focus big boy…now, and only because I don’t think I’ll have the mind capacity to think of one later, the safeword will be ‘grenade.’ Does that sound good?” You ask one last time, hoping he could answer you soon so you can get back to tasting him. 

“My kinda girl.” He laughs loudly before smacking your ass once, and just as you’re about to complain over the sudden action, Wrecker wraps both of his arms over your lower back and brings you down to his mouth again, not bothering to let up as he goes back to worshiping your cunt. 

“Oh ffff-fuck,” you scream when he wraps his lips over your clit and sucks as hard as possible while teasing your clit with his tongue. So invested in the sensations he was pushing over your body, you don’t realize he’s moving one of his arms until you feel it reach for your neck and push it down on his cock. You make a mental note of telling him later that the simple action could have brought you to your knees if you weren’t already sitting on him. For some reason, knowing that he can reach you now, since he was so much bigger and broader and taller than you, set your inside on fire, and before you can truly think over how easily he can have his way with you whenever he wants, Wrecker pushes your cheek to the side until your lips hover over his length. 

Taking in a deep breath, you prepare yourself for the onslaught Wrecker was ready to bring upon your willing form. Without thinking much of how challenging it will be to speak later, you slowly lower your mouth over his cock and stop when you think you can no longer fit him in your mouth. Proving to be a rather impressive multi-tasker, Wrecker begins to pass his tongue back and forth against your wet folds while bringing his hand to the back of your head. It’s the only warning you get before he shoves his hips up into you while pushing on your head. You can already feel the oxygen refusing to enter your system soon after, and you shut your eyes to calm yourself so you don’t freak him out. 

And just as you asked, Wrecker doesn’t hold back, immediately setting a pace that has you tearing up and choking on his dick in record time. You wrap your hands around the base of his cock, massaging his balls and pumping the rest of his length that will never feel the heat of your mouth. You’re making a complete mess of his crotch, but it seems that Wrecker rather enjoys it, only fucking your mouth harder when he begins to hear your noises increasing in sound. He doesn’t let up on you once though, keeping you against him while moving the arm your back so he can touch you better. 

You don’t expect what he does next, but as you feel his thumb circle the ring of muscle just above your cunt, you accidentally close your mouth over him, your teeth grazing the length of him ever so slightly, but hard enough to the point where Wrecker has to let go of your head to grab onto your ass. You pull off of him instantly, afraid that you’d hurt and he was about to tap out. But when his ministrations increase, and his thumb teases you even more, you decide to repay in kindness and get back to it. Kissing the tip of his cock, you lick the veins stretching up and down his length until you can catch your breath, and when you think you are ready again, you blindly reach for his hand, silently asking him to return it to your head again. 

“Are you sure?” He mumbles the question, and you moan his name once reassuringly, the only answer he requires to do as he is told. Waiting until he feels your mouth on him again, Wrecker wraps his hand over the back of your neck and pushes you down again, all the while shoving his cock with shallow thrusts into your mouth. He doesn’t go nearly as deep as earlier, but he does quicken his pace, and you realize it may be because he is desperate to finally come. You will yourself to relax your throat, not wanting to interrupt him again as he chases his orgasm. 

Wrecker is as promising in his touches as you are, and when he feels the knot in his stomach begin to unravel, he removes his fingers from your ass and sloppily collects the juices on his face before bringing two of his fingers against your entrance. As soon as he pushes his digits into your cunt, he feels your entire body melt against him completely. He smiles to himself as he matches the pace of his fingers fucking in and out of your tight pussy with the rhythm his cock slid across your heated throat. He continues for what feels like hours to you, until he knows he has you tethering between pain and pleasure. The harder you pump his length, the hotter Wrecker feels, and before he knows it, he’s adding another finger into your cunt, not caring for how abused your folds look as he shoves his thick digits far enough until you’re keeping the length of them in your sweet hole. 

He times the halt with the assault he’s bringing onto your mouth, shoving your head down and refusing to move his hips so he can relish in the way your throat constricts and clenches around his dick. 

Wrecker knows this must be what being suspended into thin air feels like, so blissful and hot and absolutely kriffing perfect. 

He refuses to push you any harder though, letting go of your head and lowering his hips down until the only thing your mouth kisses is the crown of his length. Before you can question him though, he spreads your ass cheeks apart and lunges for your clit, roughly passing his tongue back and forth on it while he continues to fuck you with his fingers. The sudden assault must be a surprise to you because Wrecker feels your hands squeeze him tightly, and before he knows it, he’s pushing his cock just a little deeper into your mouth, muscles vibrating with energy as he shoots his cum deep into your throat and coats your mouth with his seed. He’s twitching and growling beneath you, but he doesn’t ignore your pleasure, wanting you to come on his face along with him. 

He knows what to do, and as you hum around him, silently telling him that you’re pleased with how he tastes, Wrecker drags your essence across to your asshole, circling it a few times before pushing the tip of his thumb inside you. He groans over his release, and as he curls his fingers up to massage the deepest corner he can reach inside your pussy, your whole body seizes up above him and you arch your back in ecstasy, pulling off of his cock and praying his name over and over again while he makes you cum on his face. The clone wonders briefly if you’ve actually reached climax or not, unsure of your reaction since you weren’t doing much except lay your weight on him. He doesn’t wait much until he receives an answer in the form of your whole form shaking violently above him. Wrecker shuts his eyes tightly as he laps up the juices rolling on his chin, and before he knows it, he feels a stream of liquid coat his mouth and neck, one that continues baptizing him until he stops moving his fingers. You’re still twitching above him long after he paused his ministrations, and when he tries to pull out his fingers, you dig your nails into his thighs and beg him to slow down. 

“S-softly…please- oh fuck…please be g-gentle.” You whisper your requests to him, sighing in relief when he obeys your comments and slowly eases out of your weeping cunt. What shocks you instantly is how empty you feel all of a sudden. You didn’t have his cock in your mouth or his fingers in your cunt, and before you know it, your core is screaming for release once more, itching even to get filled yet again, but this time with something bigger and harder. 

Opening your eyes, you look down and notice the mess you made of Wrecker’s dick when you parted your lips after he came. Not caring for how shameless you’re being, you lean down and lick his cum off of his navel, swallowing the taste of him immediately so you don’t let any of it go to waste. Wrecker is about to ask you if you’re okay when he feels the kitten licks across his skin, and before he can warn you, his cock is twitching harshly and hitting your cheeks yet again. 

“F-fuck Wrecker, you’re still so hard.” He can hear the surprised smile on your features, and he chuckles embarrassingly from his refractory period. Normally, he felt proud at being ready to go in a matter of seconds, but lying beneath you now, Wrecker realizes you might think he just wants to take advantage of you. He’s about to apologize when you move off of him and roll to the side, throwing your head back and stretching your limbs to get some feeling back into them. Wrecker sits up on his elbows and studies you closely, unable to hold back from eye-fucking you when he notices how hard your nipples are, how shiny your face and chin are from the mess you were making of the both of you. He turns away when he catches you smiling at him, and he massages his lower stomach to try and get his cock to calm down a little. 

You notice the shift in his demeanor almost immediately, and knowing that he was probably overthinking this whole ordeal, you will yourself to sit up and go to him. Wrecker doesn’t expect you to fall into his arms so soon, so dramatically even, and he hums in pleasure when you immediately reach to kiss his mouth. You can taste both of your cum on each other, the thought nearly sending you and Wrecker into unimaginable bliss all over again. As Wrecker relaxes back into the bed, you struggle to maneuver yourself around, but in no time, you’re straddling his hips and supporting your weight on his chest. 

Wrecker looks up at you with wide-blown eyes, unsure of what it is you are trying to accomplish. He thought you would call it a night, perhaps even tell him that this felt nice but you’d need to rest before you do anything else. But like always, you surprise Wrecker with a dangerous glint to your eyes, slowly rolling your hips back and forth until his cock nestles perfectly between your wet folds. 

“An’edee?”

“Please Wreck…want you to fuck me now. Fuck me hard…stretch me wide on your cock, until I can’t speak anymore.” You roam your hands across his chest, marveling at the muscles rippling and flexing beneath the palms of your hands. Wrecker grabs onto your hips instantly, stopping you from moving any further and sending him into a frenzy. 

“I- I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage…or that I want to hurt you.” He says, avoiding your gaze altogether and choosing to look anywhere else but your glistening body. You’ve always been beautiful to him, but you’re even more gorgeous in his eyes now, with your sweaty skin and your bruised body that he marked with his teeth and his seed. 

“What if I want you to take advantage…what if- what if I want you to hurt me?” You ask, leaning over and kissing over his chest, glancing up at him and waiting until he meets your eyes before nipping at the skin near one of his nipples. He hisses in warning, narrowing his eyes at you and praying you understand that he only means to take care of you. 

“What if I want the others to know what we’ve done here tonight? Smile at them when they notice traces of your touch all over me. What if…oh maker Wrecker, what if I want to leave this planet with so much of your cum deep inside me that it leaks out of me?” You’re not sure what’s making you whisper such filthy confessions to him. All you know is, the more you reveal to him your wishes, the harder his cock twitches against you. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, and you raise yourself until you’re sitting high above him, with a perfect view of all his glorious skin. 

When he says nothing right away, you regret ever telling him your thoughts, and slowly begin to get off of him. But Wrecker is faster than you, and he squeezes your hips tightly to prevent you from going anywhere. You know you’ll look at yourself in the mirror days from now and find imprints of his hands all over your skin, the thought of which makes you wetter than you can care to admit. You’re about to apologize when he finally puts you out of your misery and nods his consent. 

Afraid that he’s only agreeing because of your need for him, you lean down and kiss his cheeks, hoping he’d understand that you don’t ever want to force him to do anything. But Wrecker sees right through you, wrapping one arm around your back to keep you as flush to him as possible while his other hand reaches down and takes hold of his cock. You feel him tease your entrance with the head of his dick, parting your lips in a silent plea to have him finally fill you to the brim. But he doesn’t give you what you want just yet, sliding his cock along your wet folds several times until he coats his length with your juices. 

“Please Wreck.”

“You want me to fuck you pretty girl?” 

“Y-yes, please.” You breathe against his lips, nearly tasting the salt of his sweat on your tongue as you grow closer to him. 

“Hmm, you want me to train your pussy…show you how to take me?” His voice is hoarse, and you realize it may be the first time you hear him speak so softly, so sweetly to you. 

“Desperately.”

“Kriff,” he hesitates for a moment, but as he looks into your eyes, and feels the wet heat of your pussy coax him into you, Wrecker decides to break the last barrier between the two of you and speak his desires freely, “you- you want me to cum inside you and fill you up until Hunter can smell me on your cunt?” 

The question surprises you, mostly because you thought Wrecker would be too shy to mention something everyone seldom speaks of, something so inherently filthy that lures a fresh wave of desire from your body. You gaze at Wrecker through heavy-lidded eyes, torn between wanting him to tease you more and finally taking you how you always dreamt. You gulp nervously, leaning down and laying a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth before breathing a soft, quick plea against him. 

“Please.” 

Wrecker laughs at your sudden shy demeanor, wondering whether he could play with you a little bit more before he fucks you raw. It’s a difficult decision, but he makes up his mind when he pushes the head of his cock along your slit and finds you soaking for him. 

“Remember your safeword an’edee,” the arm around your back holds you tightly against his heaving chest, and you lose yourself in his touch as soon as he wraps his lips around your own and gently eases himself inside you. The confidence of his words turns you on way more than it should, but you don’t dwell on that thought for too long, already finding it difficult to get used to the sheer size of him. He’s done his due diligence in preparing you for his dick, but you somehow still struggle to take him without hissing in pain. 

“Fuck baby, your pussy feels so warm around my cock.” Wrecker mouths against the column of your neck, his hands clutching on your skin for dear life as he slowly continues to push his length along your tight walls. 

“O-ohhhh,” you moan as you feel him throb deep inside your cunt, and Wrecker mistakes the pleasure for pain, stopping his journey in an instant and stretching his head back until he can get a better look at you. 

“A-am I hurting you? Should I p-”

“No, n-no please don’t…don’t pull out Wreck, please. I just need to g-get used to you.” You cut him off before he even thinks about leaving you, and when you flutter your eyes open and meet his beautiful, mismatched ones, you can’t help smile and kiss the corner of his mouth, hoping that the sentiment distracts him long enough until the stretch of his cock sends more pleasure than discomfort down your spine. 

“Mesh’la,” Wrecker warns warmly, seeing through you immediately and loosening the hold he has on your hips so you don’t think he’ll prioritize his needs over your comfort. He can feel your pussy clench around him the more he roams his hands across your back, and when he rests his hand over your ass, you roll your hips almost on queue, your body already wishing to chase that little high as if he didn’t just make you cum a moment ago. 

“I know, I- oh maker, I know…you’re so thick and hard Wrecker, I feel so- so full.” 

“And you’re so fucking tight love. I want you to move when- when you’re ready.” He knows he should try to persuade you to get some rest, but with every little breath-hitch he hears, and the filthy words streaming from your mouth and washing over him like lukewarm water, Wrecker knows he’s already gone. 

Then you move your hips once, just a little bit, until you can feel the veins along his cock slide deliciously against your tight walls, and Wrecked knows any chances of him letting go of you now are gone.

“Shit.” You swear as you slowly sit up and flatten your palms over his broad chest, supporting your weight and setting a soft pace as you begin to ride him.

“That’s it, fuck yourself on my cock…nice and slow sweetheart. Nice and slow.” He hums at you as he meets your place and thrusts up into you. There is a lilt of pride in his voice, one that sets your body on fire. When you can finally open your eyes and look down, you see Wrecker’s gaze set on where you’re joined. His chest rumbles with a growl as he moves you along his dick and juts his hips up into you, and it’s only when he meets your eyes that you realize why he’s suddenly so unhinged, so willing to give you what you want. 

The man has a size kink. And from the looks of it, it was going to manifest itself pretty soon. 

“Hmmm.” You sigh when you feel his cock hit a deep corner inside you that paints stars across your sight. You want to ask him if it pleases him so much that you can take him without pain, if his dick hardens at knowing that he’s clearly the biggest you’ve ever fucked.

But with every rough push and pull, with every little touch Wrecker brings upon your body, your mind frizzles into nothing, leaving you a heaving mess that grows more needy for him with every kiss he places on your skin.

“The sounds you make, an’edee. Oh fuck, I- I could just keep you here forever. Fuck you all night long to keep you warm. Would you like that?” Wrecker is breathless, and you feel proud at being the reason behind such a reaction. You’ve seen him fight and run for hours on end in the battlefield, but he seldom ran out of breath, let alone looked fatigued. You weren’t sure if this was because he was straining himself so he could hold back, or because he felt for you. Either way, the harsh breaths and growled moans emitting from his mouth were music to your ears, making you yearn for more. 

“Wre-eecker,” you dig your nails into his chest, gasping for air at a particularly hard thrust that nearly sends you flying off of him. A part of you wishes this continues when you’re back in the Marauder, but there was no way this would be possible, not when Hunter could hear the smallest of spiders creeping along the walls. You whine in irritation, throwing your head back to distract yourself from such thoughts. 

“Would you like it if I keep you here in my arms, fuck you till you can’t scream anymore…fill you up with my cum, till it’s leaking out of you tight little cunt and you beg me to keep fucking you to give you some more?” You feel yourself growing slower to the edge with every filthy word he speaks through gritted teeth. Never in your life did you think Wrecker was capable of such inappropriate honesty. Sure he was brutally truthful when he spoke, but most of the time, it was endearing to know that he wore his heart on his sleeve. Then again, this wasn’t much different now that you thought about it. For him to breathe such sinful desires, he must have been thinking of them for a long time. The thought of being the reason behind those wishes and cravings makes you clench your thighs around him, and you fall into his chest when you can’t find the strength to keep yourself up anymore.  

“Please baby, I want it hard- want it so hard.” You plead softly, kissing along his neck and biting the muscles on his shoulder when he wraps one arm around your back and the other goes straight to your ass. 

“So good for me, my little fuck-bunny.” A strike of lightning zaps down your spine, and you sob into his neck as realization washes over you. Had it been anyone else saying those words, you think you may have jumped off of them and punched them in the eye. 

But this was Wrecker. 

And you really enjoyed him calling you his personal fuck-bunny. 

“Ahhhhh yess Wreck, k-keep going.” Your moans ring in his ears as his thrusts grow harder, faster, sweeter. 

“I’m going to fuck you harder sweetheart, but you- osik, you have to promise me one thing.” He’s already doing what he says, holding onto your ass and squeezing it tightly as he moves you on top of him. You can feel his cock carve you out, sending spikes of pleasure along your thighs until they’re shaking harshly. The action doesn’t go unseen by Wrecker, and laughs beneath you when your body continues to shiver violently while his assault on your cunt increases. 

You already know what he’s going to ask, and instead of letting him remind you, you break his train of thoughts and confirm your suspicions, hoping that he’d keep his promise and fuck you into oblivion as soon as he’s sure you remember the safeword. 

“I p-promise to use the safeword if it’s too much, just please- Wrecker…take me.” Your voice gives out in an instant, and as you try to brace yourself for the war Wrecker is sure to bring on your body, he forces you to pull back so he can reach your lips.

“Come here,” his hand twists in your hair, tugging on it until he can see your face, and before you can say anything else, he’s shoving his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans as he quickens his pace and fucks up into you without remorse. You surrender yourself completely to him, letting go of any control you may have had on your body and allowing him to move you as he pleases. When Wrecker pulls away, he pushes your head into the nape of his neck, nuzzling into the space between the column of your throat and your clavicle before biting down on your shoulder and sending you screaming into his skin. 

“Ah unghhhh yes yes, oh fuck right there Wreck, right t-there.”

“That’s a good girl, stretching ‘round my dick, so wet and hot for me.” He growls right back, pushing his cock into your pussy with such vigor that you nearly forget where you are. The sounds both of you are creating are downright dirty, and you smile to yourself when you notice you can barely hear the storm raging outside from how loud the two of you are being. 

“Uhh ahh yeah, my fuck-bunny is tight for me.” You whimper at the sentiments he continues to breathe on your skin as he drives his cock deeper into your cunt and makes you his. 

“Feel me sweetheart, feel me as I mark your little hole as mine.” None of what he’s saying should make you so weak and pliable for him, but you hope he doesn’t stop talking any time soon. You’re sure he can make you cum simply from telling you how much he craves you.

“W-wreck,” your voice barely comes out loud enough for him to hear, and Wrecker grinds his teeth to prevent himself from sinking them into your neck. He wants to mark you with everything he’s got, but he’s afraid you’d think him too violent if he were to ever do something so savage to you. So instead, he bites into his lip and fucks you harder, praying to the Force that your pussy is enough of a distraction from his barbaric needs. 

“I love it when you call me that, love. Keep moaning my name, and- hmmmm, I promise to give you my cum.” 

Between his words, the possessive touches you’re sure will leave bruises on your body, and the delicious thickness of his cock as he plunges it into your cunt time and again, you cum around him in an instant, your body seizing up all of a sudden as it surrenders to the indescribable pleasure. You feel your lower stomach grow hot with a foreign, heated desire and it’s not until you can finally catch your breath that you hear Wrecker swear and raise you a little to look down at your joined bodies. 

“Osik,” his smile is dangerously wide, and you don’t know what’s pleasing him so much until you follow his line of sight and look down to where you thought he was still filling you. Your eyes widen in horror when you see his skin glistening with your wetness, and you look up at him in time to apologize for the mess you just made. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Wrecker notices your voice grow in shyness, and he shakes his head to stop you from saying anything else. 

“I want you to do that again baby, cum on my cock again.” Before you can ask him if he truly means that request, Wrecker is pushing you down on his cock again and filling you to the brim, hissing in relief when he feels the heat of your pussy engulf him once more and clenching tightly around him. He doesn’t waste another second, grabbing both of your thighs and raising you slightly above his hips so he can fuck up into you freely. You try to support yourself on his chest once more, but your arms give out instantly, sending you flush against Wrecker’s skin again. He kisses your neck, licking and nipping your sweaty skin until he feels that familiar sensation take over your body and send spikes of pleasure down his cock. You’re squeezing him tightly, fluttering with such intensity that Wrecker nearly loses his sight and cums then and there. But he forces himself to focus on your pleasure, wanting to make you cum one last time before he fills you up as he promised.

As you craved. 

He opens his eyes in time to see you part your lips in a silent cry as you drench him again, and he doesn’t stop once, fucking you through your orgasm until you force his dick out of your heat and soak him again. 

“Such a good girl, making a mess of me like I want.” He praises you sweetly, and you nearly confess those three, fateful words to him. But you catch yourself before you ruin the moment, and even though you’re still shaking from the force of your ecstasy, you slowly sit up and grab his cock, lining him up with your entrance and looking into his eyes as you slide down his thick length one last time. 

“B-baby?” Wrecker asks with furrowed eyebrows, knowing that you were yet to come back from the pleasure he just wrung from your body. 

“I- I want to cum with you Wrecker, want your cum to fill me up as I fall over the edge with you.” You roll your hips slowly over him, feeling the tip of his cock hit you right where you’re still sensitive. 

“An’edee,” Wrecker moans to you, roaming his hand up and down your body, and smiling ot himself when he flicks your nipples and feels you flutter around his dick.  

“Take your pleasure baby, use me till you reach that release. Please.” You beg him, one last time, praying that he could finally give you what you want. 

“Hold on to me,” Wrecker warns as he grabs your hips and digs his fingers into the muscles beneath your skin. You move your hands from his stomach to his forearms, clutching onto them for dear life as soon as you feel Wrecker plant his feet onto the mattress and thrust up into you. In a matter of seconds, you’re throwing your head back and crying out his name, the knowledge that you no longer have any control on your body, even your pleasure, sending you quickly into overdrive. You want to focus on your pleasure, but the deeper Wrecker reaches inside you, the more you think of his own needs, and you remember that he’s already given you so much. 

Instead of begging him to touch you, you open your eyes and look down at him, studying him closely as you bring your fingers to your clit and rub yourself furiously. The man beneath you is a sight unlike you’ve ever seen. His broad, large form is nearly pliant underneath you now, buzzing with energy and pleasure that you’re sure must be sending him into some sort of sensory overload. You marvel at the sheer strength of him, and the knowledge that he’s surely holding back, even now, when he’s fucking you within an inch of your life. His chest is heaving from how hard he’s fucking up into you, how fast his thrusts are becoming as he uses you to get off. 

And as soon as he opens his own eyes and looks at you, you give yourself into the pleasure, praying to the maker that he cums along with you so you can experience that little high together. Your prayers are answered when Wrecker descends his gaze down your body and sees your fingers playing with your clit. In a matter of seconds, Wrecker is crying out his release, holding you down against him as he empties his seed inside your pussy and paints your clenching walls with his cum. Although he’s unmoving, the force with which he cums is enough to heat you up, offerig you one last little orgasm before you collapse into his arms. 

He’s somehow still hot and hard beneath you, and when you come to your senses again, you realize he’s been praying your name softly as he was filling you up. You’re still shaking in his embrace, and Wrecker can’t help but squeeze your ass every time you unintentionally flutter around him. He doesn’t move, afraid that he might want to fuck you again. 

Hell, he knew he wouldn’t have to move to get that feeling again. He was already experiencing it right now. Against his better judgment, Wrecker grabs your ass and raises you off of him, hissing in discomfort when he no longer feels the tight heat of your walls wrapping around his hardening cock. 

“Wr- wreck,” you whine into his skin, lazily reaching down in between your sweaty bodies to push his seed back into your cunt. Wrecker doesn’t have to see your hands to know what you’re doing, and he moans into your ears when your thumb traces along his length and makes him twitch into you. 

“F-fuck an’edee, keep saying my name like that and I might just push you down and fuck you into the floor.” He warns with a growl, settling you beside him so he isn’t tempted with your messy pussy. 

“You- you say that like it’s a- ahhhh…a bad thing.” You cry out when Wrecker slaps your ass playfully to get you to quiet down. 

“Not bad at all, but I don’t want to hurt you. Remember?” He leans down and kisses your forehead, nuzzling into your hair before looking beside him to see if there is anything he can use to clean you up. 

“But baby, I like it when you hurt me.”

“Hmmm, as much as I love hearing you say that, I- we should uhhh, oh kriff. S-stop doing that,” he starts to respond, but you don’t let him continue his train of thought, reaching down and wrapping your hand around the crown of his cock. When you squeeze it tightly and feel him grow harder beneath your touch, you feel that same sensation coarse through your veins once more. 

“Why?” 

“Because I don’t h-have that much control, sweetheart. If you- osik, if you keep scratching and kissing on me, I’m trapping you here till your cunt is full of my cum.” He grits his teeth, whining in pain when you bite down on the muscles of his shoulder and lick the slowly-forming mark. 

“Oh, is that a warning Commando?” Your question is meant to stir him into action, but the opposite occurs.

“No my little fuck-bunny, that’s a fucking promise.” Wrecker snatches your wrist quickly, raising your hand to his chest and forcing it down on him before giving you a warning glare. 

“Wha- I thought you were going to…” You look at him through heavy lidded eyes, praying that he could push you underneath him one last time for the night and fill you up again. 

“Fuck you? No an’edee, we’re done for tonight.” Wrecker teases you with a smirk, not giving you a chance to touch him any further as he pulls away completely and stands up.

“But-”

“Knowing Hunter and Tech, they’ll be coming sometime in the next few hours. And I don’t like sharing what’s mine. I’d hate to cut their eyes out because they saw what belongs to me.” Wrecker states the last sentiment so naturally that you can’t help but clench your thighs tightly and slip your fingers down your body until you’re rubbing his cum over your wet folds again. 

“Oh.” It’s all you can say now that you know your feelings are completely mutual. 

“Hmm, does my sweetheart like hearing who she belongs to?” Wrecker asks passively as he looks for his clothes and your own.

“Fuck,” you groan lowly when he turns back around and palms his cock lazily while continuing to tease you with those sinful questions. 

“Or is it the thought of how easily I can beat my brothers for you that’s getting you so hot and bothered?” Wrecker struts towards you, looking down at your form as you spread yourself for him and show him your glistening cunt. He leans down with a dangerous glint in his eyes, waiting until you shut your eyes before kissing your forehead and moving away.

“You- you’re not being fair Wreck.” You murmur irritatingly as you watch him walk away and collect your clothes before coming back to you and throwing them on your body, actively hiding your skin from his hungry eyes so he doesn’t fall into your trap.

“You expect me to not beg you for more, and yet you torture me with your words and- and…”

“You’re right an’edee, I’m not being fair.” He laughs as brings all of his clothes to the mattress and ruffles through them in search of his underpants. When he glances at you and sees you pouting at him, he rolls his eyes and pinches your thighs before pointing to your clothes. 

“Get dressed. That’s an order!” Wrecker nearly falls over as he struggles to put his underpants back on, and when he sees you laughing at him, he steps towards you and reaches for your waist, softly pinching you and chuckling in return when you fall back into bed and giggle along with him. 

“Y-yes sir.” You salute sarcastically, not caring for his request even for a moment. You look on Wrecker as he puts his clothes back on again, smiling to yourself when you see him sniff his shirt and whisper something about smelling like burnt tookas. As he walks around the room in search of food, you lay your hand on your heart and let out a long sigh, one that, you thanked the heavens, was filled with nothing but gratitude. 

You started the day with immense fear for your and Wrecker’s lives, even more at the prospect of never seeing Omega and the others again. But now that you were filled with warmth, one that was provided to you by none other than the man who has been the object of your desires and needs ever since he introduced himself all those months ago, you know that things would eventually be alright. It would take a long time, and perhaps much more heartache, but you’d ultimately find rest. 

You just prayed it would be in Wrecker’s arms. 

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 7: conversation

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

' “I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy," she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn't even blink.

“I’m not.” You are. '

---

Megumi calls you back. You leave for Tokyo again, like a soul yearning for its body.

word count: ~6k; tws: none for now :)!!

19-6-2018

“So you’re really going to let go of them now?” your father asks. 

“...yeah.” 

“That’s good. I’ll miss that Itadori boy, though.” 

You will, too. 

In a way you suppose Megumi and Yuuji are very similar. They’d go well together, be good, fast friends and all that. 

They’re both undoubtedly good people, no matter how they’ve beat people up before and how different their beliefs may be. 

In Megumi’s case, everyone knew how good a person Tsumiki was, her younger brother included. Her kindness and virtue extended itself, inspiring other people around her. But Megumi was a good person, too— polite, patient (most of the time, unless it were Gojo— but who wouldn’t be annoyed by that man, right?), kind in his own way. He cared for you in all sorts of ways in the past, even then you could tell, gentle with animals and objects and your hand. Gentle in his own way. Giving you reminders despite the tiny calumniations sprinkled in (they barely do as much damage as comb bristles can), being sharp because he must have had to, kind because it was in his very nature. Easy on the eyes, tall, deep soothing voice— he ticked all the boxes for that, too. You bet that if things were different, and the two of you had stayed in touch with each other, you’d have fallen deeply in love with it by now. Yet that thought only makes you feel sour now that things hadn’t gone that way at all. 

And Yuuji, too— there was no explanation needed for Yuuji. Even Megumi could tell he was a good person. And at some times he was almost like Tsumiki. You weren’t ever surprised that you’d caught feelings for him, because— who wouldn’t? He was always popular, even if he was ignorant of his own charm around others. But he wasn’t just a good guy with a ripped torso, he was honest, perceptive and smart in conversations. Smarter than he ever credited himself for. Smart in a way you could never be— people with cute faces, nice bodies and good social skills were in a league of their own, practically. You’d thought that for a long time. 

Did either of them ever know how you felt? 

Probably not. Your heart was guarded, intensely so, and you’d never lay your feelings bare and out so easily. You weren’t the type of person to say you loved people as easily as others did, even within your own family. 

This, you presume, is probably an acquired trait, now that you think about it. You were much more different as a child, free with praise and love and unabashed affection as well as appreciation for the people around you. What changed?

(Everything.) 

You miss 2010. You miss Tsumiki the way you miss your mother’s cooking, miss her the way you miss when you wrote emails and letters and text messages to her with multi-coloured pens or your old phone that eventually broke a year after. You miss the conversations the two of you had, miss how you used to be your parents’ little angel. 

And in the end it all comes back to that, doesn’t it? 2010. Nostalgia. Reminiscing on old memories in a way akin to how the elderly do in their youth. That just made you seem more pathetic, because, weren’t you supposed to be making those memories right now, at this time of your life? 

You’re a teenager. You should be going out with friends, and having fun, not rotting at home ruminating on the past, with the only friends you’ve ever had hundreds of kilometres away from you (you weren’t sure if you could even call one of them a ‘friend’ anymore), and your acquaintances not close enough to replace them (how could they ever? How could there ever be a replacement for Yuuji?) 

In a way you feel your life is miserable: awkward, socially-impaired teenage girl with her only friend practically out of her life at this point; nothing special to your name besides a cursed technique that most times does you more harm than good; stuck not being able to completely get over friends she met at eight who left her as quickly as someone can blink their eyes; with the thinking process of a nagging, stubborn mother sometimes, or if not that then a blurry, mingled train of thought that gets delayed or lost when moving from station to station; someone not of use at all. Not miserable, you think to yourself like a slap to the face, pathetic. 

You’re not sure how Tsumiki is now— maybe she has a partner, or better friends than you were, or she’s busy being president of the student council or something (she’d be a sterling leader, of that you’re certain, that girl who you’d always known was bound to go places in the span of her lifetime). 

Hopefully, she’s alright, and doing the best she can in life. That’s all you wish for when it comes to Tsumiki. 

At this point, there’s no point in wishing to join them, or to linger on them and memories of the past. It’s a mosquito in summer heat, which is why, if it stays, you decide, you’ll just suppress and ignore it until it goes away. Even if you didn’t know how long it would take you to get over them— weeks, months, but goodness forbid a whole lifetime or forever— you needed to accept that you’d be like this for nearly the rest of your life: pathetic, lonely— ah, that’s the word that so very perfectly delineates the situation you’re in— and then some. 

So that’s why, when you hear your phone buzzing on your bed like a cicada during a balmy night, you assume it’s someone else. Yuuji must be busy settling in (he’s been texting you, and you took that as a sign that he wouldn’t call), and Megumi must be… —Well. Megumi has made a promise, and it’s not that you don’t believe in him, but it would be better to expect less than what you’d like to in order to evade disappointment. 

Must be someone else. A prank call, or a scammer, or something. Or a telemarketer, but you’d be surprised if telemarketers were calling you and not your father. And you were never one to pick calls up mindlessly anyway, so if it were some stranger out to get you or swindle you, you’d just hang up or check the number. 

If not either a scam or a telemarketer (well you suppose both of those could be scams in certain contexts), though, then you’d suspect it would be either Yuuji (Yuuji’s the one who has been texting you, after all, conversations strewn over checking in with the other over the past few hours or snippets of advice from you telling him not to bother Megumi very much, and to be cautious and keep himself safe) or Gojo— definitely not Megumi, and probably not Gojo either, but still it was more likely that Gojo was calling you instead of Megumi, so you’re considering it— and you can’t really remember Gojo’s number anyway, so what if an unknown number wasn’t a prank call or something—

You wonder if you should just pick it up instead of burying your head in your study notes and overthinking everything. 

But you know it’s definitely not Megumi. 

You check the phone. 

Well, you’ll be damned. 

It’s Fushiguro Megumi. 

You know his number by heart, after all. Keyed it in too many times to forget, and it’s not like he’d have any reason to change it. Not with the way he cares for things, inanimate objects, not with the tenderly quiet, secretly caring, emotionally jaded way he maintains them. 

“Ah… hello?” 

Your heart thumps in your chest and heat flares up in your cheeks with a frenetic speed. 

“Hi,” you blurt out, shakily. You’re sure your voice is quivering, yet your mind feels like it’s barely functioning, almost about to drown in a seven-feet-deep pool, so you can’t really tell. You can’t really hear yourself. 

You don’t know why you feel like this— no, you know exactly why, actually. It’s because you haven’t gotten over him. Your thoughts are scrambled but you know, for sure, that you’re like this because you want to get rid of feelings like these but you can’t. Or because you’ve been saying that to yourself like a mantra, for so long, even though a part of you wants it to stay— out of what, that’s what you don’t know; maybe desperation or nostalgia or an inability to stop dwelling on days long gone. But you know what this is— you’ve seen the movies, read the manga, watched the dramas. It’s romance. Crushes. Something you’re not quite able to call love yet, something you’re too scared to properly name, still, but something you can understand is one-sided nonetheless. 

“…hi. [Name].” 

“Hello…” 

What happens when two estranged childhood friends with a book’s worth of history behind their relationship that happen to be socially awkward teenagers actually have a conversation semi-beyond what keeps them estranged in the first place? 

“Hi— no, wait… how are you?” 

Pot, meet kettle, because you’re going off nothing but the fact that you’re at the very least surprised (the other emotions are too complicated to explain) that he’s speaking to you again, and not just on text, but he’s calling, and he sounds like he’s reading off a script, but the script is in a whole other language, somehow, and the uncertain nervousness in his voice is tangible, even for a deep, low voice like his. 

Script or not, you appreciate the effort, though. 

“I’m good, um… I’m happy you were able to call. It’s been a long time.” 

“That’s good.” 

There’s silence on the other line; time feels like it’s moving achingly slowly. But you’re mildly happy. 

Not happy, maybe, but you definitely feel light, as if you’ve been severed from the heaviness of everything else that has happened lately. This is the first time in years something like this has ever happened. 

“Ah, wait, I forgot to ask! Sorry, um.. how are you?” 

“I’m doing alright, too. Oh, wait, I should apologise. I didn’t tell you— thanks for helping with my injuries the other day. Gojo told me about it after you left. You… you didn’t have to, though. You shouldn’t have risked your health like that.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t mention it. You know why I do this, anyway.” Out of necessity or a need to be useful, you’re not even sure yourself, but he must know, to some degree, right? It seems as if he’d be the one to know the most of this, of you— at least, when matters came to this. “And I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Dr Ieiri probably ended up helping more with the bigger ones once the three of you got back. I mean, she did, right?” 

“…no. She said that she didn’t want to waste her time, so if injuries were more minor like mine, she wouldn’t heal them fully.” 

“...ah.” More minor? Seriously, doctor? You’d normally not question her judgement over matters that she had more expertise in dealing with, but seriously? 

“I’ll be fine, though. Most of the bandages have come off, and all.” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” 

You wonder where he is now, on the bed, maybe, or sitting on the floor. You’ve seen the classrooms, but not the dormitories— you hope wherever he is, that it’s comfortable. That he’s okay. 

“We’re going to see a new student soon.” 

“Really? Have you met them before?” 

“No, but Gojo said she’s from the countryside. But we’re meeting her in Harajuku, for some reason.” 

“Oh, Harajuku! I miss it,” you let out a plaintive sigh, “I can’t wait to be back in Tokyo. You know, whatever happens, I still love that city like nothing else. I know how many people hate it, but I love it so much.” And you love it so much in the first place, mostly because of Megumi and Tsumiki. “Maybe she just wants to chase a bit of the sweet city life— I mean, you know how it is when country bumpkins go to the city for the first time… kind of. Or when they love the city— yeah, that’s a better way of saying it. I was like that, kind of.” 

“...if you’re worried about the train ride here and want to travel alone, I could always pay for you. Uh… wait—” 

“Oh, no, no! There’s no need, uhm— thank you anyway, it’s just—” 

“It’s Gojo’s money anyway.” 

“Pft,” you snort. Anything to seep out some of Gojo’s money like gluttonous leeches, right? “Nah, I’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t even think I’ll be able to come back in a few years’ time, and by then I won’t even be relying on my parents’ money for this stuff anymore— I mean, I will still be relying on their money, but I’ll be managing it as my own.” 

He chuckles lightly over the line, the silent way he shows his emotions, the way that goes unnoticed if one is not attentive to it. It feels like he’s whispering directly into your ear, and the heat on your face (which you weren’t even sure was still there until that point). Your heart skips a beat and it completely, absolutely shocks you. “...the offer still stands.” 

Yeah, you can get behind it if he’s like this now. What happened to him, anyway? Puberty hit him like a brick and gave him, like, one more ounce of emotional maturity? 

You shake your head like a character in a piece of crappy romance fanfiction. No way. Not now, at least. Calm down. 

(...you’re just a girl.) 

“Well, no take backs from now on, okay? Even if it’s, like, five years into the future, you’ll still be using Gojo’s credit card to cover for all my travel expenses.” 

He does it again, that low, soft, attractive sound. Makes you want to hit him and hit yourself at the same time, and then kick your feet up in the air giddily, and then throttle yourself, if it were possible, out of sheer embarrassment. “Yeah.” 

You’re having the time of your life. 

“Anyway, how is everything else? Like, are your studies and grades okay? Is the training you do alright to handle?” 

“My grades are pretty okay,” he answers, “Not like Gojo cares, honestly. And the training’s fine, it’s nothing I’m not used to.” 

“Gojo seems like he’d be a good teacher. When he wants to, he can command respect pretty easily, too. I guess he just… chooses not to. But I saw it yesterday, when you and Yuuji were passed out in the hospital.” 

It still strikes a pang of guilt in your chest, your inability to have done anything else besides calling Gojo over for help. 

“...I suppose he does.” 

“Yeah.” 

“How about you? Itadori, he… he can be an idiot sometimes, but he speaks of you really admirably. He talks about how smart you are a lot.” 

The thought of Megumi calling Yuuji an idiot of all things doesn’t feel like it falls short from him, but it still makes you frown— though, you realise that that’s just his way of expressing things, because in a way he’d treated you somewhat the same in the past, even if he hadn’t shown it outright or expressed it very vividly. Classic Megumi. 

“Hey, he’s smarter than people give him credit for, okay? Wait until you see how talented he is at things other than sports and martial arts. You’d be surprised after trying the meatballs he makes. Would be good if you asked him to give you the recipe sometime; I make them, like, once a week, at least.” 

He sighs, “...I will. But the point is, he cares for you a lot.” 

“Yeah, beautiful soul, that guy. Loves people the way curious children love nature.” 

“That would be a fitting way to put it.” 

“How are the dogs?” 

“My shikigami?” 

“Yeah. Do they have names?” 

“The black one is Kuro and the white one is Shiro.” 

“You named them black and white?” 

“Look, I named them when I was barely six years old, and six year olds aren’t exactly the best when it comes to these things…” 

You giggle, “So the name stuck?” 

“Yeah, sort of.” 

Real cute. 

“What about your father? How is he?” 

“He’s okay, but, well. I guess we’re not that close anymore.” 

“...I see.” He probably can’t imagine a version of you who wasn’t immensely close to her parents. You couldn’t then, either. 

“We’ve been talking even less now that my mother’s in the hospital, but at least I get to talk to him before he eats, maybe. I’ve been doing most of the cooking now that my mother isn’t here and my father doesn’t really know how to handle himself in our kitchen without her guidance.” 

“Oh… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your mother?” 

“Cancer.” 

You can practically hear the gulp he’s taking, the bobbing of his throat— sensitive topic. “I’m… so sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s okay, don’t be,” you reassure him, “I should have told you that day anyway. I was just… exploding at everybody on that night. I should apologise— I’m sorry for how badly I treated you.” 

“No,” he goes, “No, you shouldn’t. I understand why you were like that that night. And it was mostly my fault, too, so…” 

“No, no, I’m serious! Feel free to ask almost anything as long as I have actual answers to your questions and all.” 

“Still… I just wanted to know. Sorry if I caused you any trouble.” 

“No— you didn’t do any of that at all, don’t worry! I’m alright with people asking about this. Ah, anyway… besides Yuuji, do you have any friends?” 

“Itadori and I aren’t friends.” 

“Trust me, if I asked him, I bet he’d beg to differ. Yuuji’s like that with people— soon he’ll be more important to you than you could have ever thought at first.”  

“Whatever you say,” he sort of grunts, “But I don’t have any friends, I think… except you, maybe. What about you?” 

You were honestly expecting him not to consider you a friend at all, and at this point so much has happened that wouldn’t even be that bothered if he no longer thought of you as one but called you anyway out of his commitment to his promises, or as an apology. 

“I’m surprised you can still call me a friend,” you say. Calling people instead of talking to them physically does something to your inhibitions. 

“...should I not?” 

“No, no, I’m happy,” you say over the phone. You’ll forget this conversation tomorrow, at least, when the sun has risen and the night returns back the hold you have over yourself, your composure, to you. You’ll act like this never happened. So you’ll say whatever you want to now, disgorging yourself of years of withheld secrets. “I’m happy that we’re still friends. I think I like that. 

“Yeah?” 

“Um— yeah, it seems like a good place to start,” you grin slightly. “And I, well. I don’t really have any friends beyond Yuuji,” —You’re not even sure if Tsumiki still sees you as a friend— “Even if I may have acquaintances like Sasaki or Iguchi it still feels like Yuuji’s one of the only people I can give that kind of title to, so, um… the more the merrier?” 

“That’s… nice.” 

“...it is, isn’t it?” 

“Thank you.” 

Why? “Okay.” 

The two of you go through the next few seconds in silence, time feeling like it’s blending and bleeding into a mix of years and events. You can hear the light, steady sound of his breathing from the other line. If you could, you’d sleep to it— fuck the phone bill, you’ll be the one paying it in your father’s stead this time if it was for this. 

It’s comforting, and you don’t want to break it— the quiet. If he can hear you now, can hear how you’re breathing through a smile with your chest only slightly moving, you hope it feels the same as the sound of his breathing did for you. You hope it feels just like home. Like a warm pillow in the one place you love the most that you bury your head into when the weather gets especially cold. 

“Fushiguro!” 

Oh dear. 

Wincing at the sound of the creaking door’s shrill shriek as it's opened and then hits the wall, you know exactly who it is— you’d recognise that voice anywhere. 

“Is that Yuuji?” 

“Oi! I told you not to barge into my room like that!” Megumi shouts. 

“Huh? You’re calling someone? Sorry. Wait, is it [Name]?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“Hi, Yuuji.” 

“Can I talk to her?” 

“Is it alright if we do, Megumi? Just for a few seconds.” 

“Fine,” he sighs. You can practically hear that eye roll. 

“Yo!” he cheers. 

“Has everything been okay lately?” you ask. 

“Yeah. We’re meeting a new student soon.”

“Ah, yeah. Megumi told me.” 

“—Oh, and my uniform came in! It looks pretty neat.” 

“That’s good. Maybe you can send me a picture once you start wearing it, then.” 

“I will!” 

Things are going better than you thought they would. 

21-6-2018

It’s been a few days now. 

You don’t know Sasaki and Iguchi well enough to call them friends, but the three of you do know each other. You had never decided to change any contacts with them, and considering that they and you were never closer than acquaintances, friends of a friend— you had never really regretted it. But now that Yuuji is gone— and you know he’s not dead, but still— you wonder whether you should have gotten closer to them, just to be less alone once Yuuji left, even if it could not be the way things were with Yuuji. (“I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think,” he had told you as you patched him up.) 

Still, Yuuji and you were two peas in a pod— so they’re bound to ask what happened to him soon enough, especially Iguchi. 

You’ll have to start getting used to spending your Thursdays alone. And then you’d have to start getting used to every other day without him, too. If you went to the arcade or watched movies or sing-screamed the lyrics to English songs you don’t know the Japanese translations of without his presence there, you know how it wouldn’t feel the same. In life it’s not what you do that matters, you’ve come to realise— it’s who you’re doing these things with. That’s what puts meaning to it all and makes all things done in your life worthwhile. 

The two of them pass you by during lunch. 

“[Last Name]? —Oh, hey!” Sasaki says as she turns around. 

You almost scream and run away like a mouse fleeing from the eyes of a vicious house cat, tremors in your voice. “Hello…” 

“Where’s Yuuji, by the way? The occult club’s going to fall apart without him.” 

You pause. “He transferred to another school…” 

“Huh?” she goes, Iguchi almost reeling back in shock. “Transferred? But why? We’ve barely even made it to the middle of the year!” 

“I… I don’t know, it was something really urgent,” 

23-6-2018 

Your room is a cluttered mess— lucky as you are that it’s the weekend, the past week has been a rollercoaster that knocked your room’s usual standard of cleanliness off track. Scattered all over your desk were worksheets, notebooks, graph paper pages and foolscap paper, chicken-scratch writing and meticulous notes scribbled all over them to compensate for your absence the day after the incident took place. 

It isn’t the time or the discipline you lack— it’s just that it’s going to be awfully tedious. You’ll have to wipe your desk again, and clean the walls, and sort through all your clothes, too, since you haven’t been folding them in any way that isn’t merely fastidious and nearly careless. So as you get to work, you suppose that calling someone wouldn’t hurt. 

Maybe you could call Megumi. That would be okay. 

For the past few years, you’ve never noticed it. So when you do, it hits you like a bullet train at the fastest of speeds. 

You miss him. Not just in the way you miss 2010, the way you miss the past, the way you miss and mourn the person you used to be. It had been so obvious for Tsumiki, but not for him, and now that you know this it’ll be another quiet revelation— another rediscovery of fragments of yourself concealed by memories. 

You miss him— all of him; you yearned to be his friend again because he was unlike Tsumiki who you knew cherished you as you did her; you miss him regardless of who he is now, because somewhere inside him is the boy who read dog books and brought you to the school library and ran your finger through water when you burned it. Somewhere inside him is the person who offered to hold your bag as he walked with you through a snowy garden, and helped you when your nose bled. 

So it would be okay to call Megumi right now. 

“Fushiguro speaking.” 

“Hi, Megumi. Are you busy?” 

“Not right now.” 

“Want to call?” 

“Fushiguro!” It’s Yuuji. “Wanna go—” 

“I said I’m not going!” 

You chuckle, “Be nice. Were the two of you supposed to go somewhere?” 

“Nothing important. Gojo said he wanted us to ‘bond’ with each other, so he concluded that we could watch a movie. Some kind of gory horror film or something.” 

He’s… actually making an obvious effort not to scold Yuuji that much or call him some insulting, derogatory term this time… wow. 

“Ah, yeah. Yuuji likes his horror movies.” 

“Anyway, anything urgent you wanted to tell me?” 

“No, I’m just… uh—” you laugh nervously, “I’m just a little bored.” Nowadays you’re not really sure what he’d do— scold you, maybe, or roll his eyes so hard that you can hear it over the line, or he may even flash into a quick bit of awkwardness and hesitation through his words. 

Or maybe— and this was the worst of it all, he’d ask why you were calling him, and his bouts of awkwardness would have only been something temporary, soon to be replaced once again by anger and annoyance, the same he gives to everyone else— even if you knew he didn’t always mean it, per se. No more special treatment for you. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, uh… I have to clean, and usually it’s not as much as what I have to do today, so I just thought that since the only other person in the house is my father and we don’t really talk much anymore, we could, um… chat for a while. Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

“Uh-huh, so.” You stand up, leaving your phone on your desk and putting the call on speaker mode. The mountain of papers and books is a wasteland and your desk has been degraded to a landfill— the state of it would make your mother a wailing mess— no, she’d faint instantly as soon as she saw it, becoming worse of a mess than the table itself was. “Anything interesting happened lately?” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh—! Yuuji sent me a picture of his uniform the other day. Was that one special?” 

“Yeah. But they let students make adjustments to the uniform, and he said he hadn’t changed anything, so I think that was Gojo’s doing.” 

“Oh, well, that’s Gojo. It suits him, though, right? Not to sound mean or be presumptuous, but…” you chuckle, “When you wear the uniform, you look so formal. It’s not a bad thing— it’s just that Yuuji’s just always been more casual like that. And the red of the hoodie goes with his hair, too!” 

“I guess so.” 

“I can’t imagine you wearing anything other than the default uniform, though. Not to insult you, I mean, you still look good in the normal uniform, I just— can’t imagine it.” You remark, sorting the materials and books by size and subject. You’ve got to handle some of the drawers, too, now that you’ve started and can’t stop your momentum just yet. You can already feel the dust particles that have gathered on whatever is inside them still, jostling around once you’ve taken them out. 

“If you’re going to say it like that, you can just say it outright.” 

“No, no! I mean that I just can’t imagine you wearing, like, Yuuji’s uniform. Wait, what do the other students’ uniforms look like?” 

“The second years?” 

“Yeah. Did they choose the normal ones?” 

“Inumaki did. They have three boys and one girl, but only two of the boys wear the normal uniform. Okkotsu has a special uniform in white.” 

“Oh, I see,” you nod your head, “It’s a nice uniform, though. I wish I could wear a uniform that pretty.” 

“You could always enrol yourself here,” he suggests, “They’d welcome you with open arms.” 

“Maybe they will,” you chuckle, “But my mother would be adamant on me staying in the ‘normal’ world. She’s unyielding like that.” 

“And your father?”

“Wouldn’t mind, at least I don’t think…” you say, “I’ll have to wonder when to tell him if I do end up in jujutsu high; you never know when he’s mad. He’s always unpredictable like that nowadays and it’s not… particularly pleasant.” 

“I see. It would be good if you were here, though. You would be closer to Dr Ieiri that way. And it would do good, because, um… well, I’d like you here. You’d be… good for the people around you here.” 

“Ah, you— you would?” you ask, slightly phased— not like he hasn’t been a bit nicer to you since you’ve seen him again (maybe it was the awkwardness, maybe it was the guilt). “Thank you,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging up sheepishly, heading to the dusty drawer (you haven’t touched it in what feels like years, usually excluding it from your list of things to clean). 

After a scrupulous amount of wiping away at the dust outside of and surrounding it, you open the drawer with a slight bit of anticipation— you don’t expect much, but you’re a person who lingers on the past like a ghost that has forgotten how time has passed. There wouldn’t be much in this drawer to reminisce on, you presume, but you still approach it with an eager fascination— you’re the type to do so, after all. 

Of everything there, the most noteworthy are two things you grabbed almost immediately— you could never forget how they felt, and the weight that they held in your life back then: a letter, addressed but never delivered to the person you were talking to right now, and a cigarette with a hastily scribbled slew of numbers on it and a lipstick mark on its end. 

Oh, that letter. That letter.  

From what you remember, you’ve never rebelled against your parents before. At least, not with anything major— for a long time, you were their good girl, and you never disobeyed them, as much as you wanted to at times. You still are, still stuck with that age-old drive to be useful. (But was there even a point in that anymore? At least, was there one with your parents?). You didn’t picture yourself as any kind of righteous goody-two-shoes, but you definitely weren’t a rebel or a delinquent. You followed their instructions and seldom ever questioned what they told you, and so it had always been subtly implanted in your brain that they would be alright with anything you did or said. Yet the first time you did actually start to question them, you realised that their belief in your ‘obedience’ as pure love— and maybe it was; you loved them so much you were blinded and trusted them with everything and did anything they wanted their baby to do— you realised they only treated you so lovingly if you were not an actual person with your own ideals and beliefs. 

(But they still loved you, right?) 

Even now, you still do obey them and listen to them. If your father needed anything, he could consider it done; if your mother wanted her clothes to be patched up you’d try your utmost best to withstand the pricking of needles and bring it back to her hospital room with bandaged fingers. It was like that with your mother: even if at times it seemed like the only pain she wanted for you was callouses from a pen or pricks from needles, at other times you feel she could have known you’d end up like her, maybe. Maybe she saw it as a curse: the worlds the two of you were born in were different, and she wanted you to stay in yours, lest you die or live in a world of endless pain. 

You’ve been doing it for a long time: being dismissive of yourself, prone to self-prostration, subservient; the lovingness of a mother, the sweetness of a teenage girl (you hoped), the kindness of a caring friend. Maybe it was Tsumiki— maybe it was because you’d always seen this in Tsumiki. She was always smiling, always caring; taking on the weight of motherhood before she could carry the weight of her school bag. Hugging you with her saccharine smile; braiding her hair with gentle hands and holding your wrist with her hair tie on it even gentler. (You still have it with you. You had planned to start taking it off more once Yuuji left, but you suppose some habits take longer than a week to develop.) All while having that sickening, fantastical, mysterious sweetness of a teenage girl in what you now understand could have been a hidden misery— because caring for someone like a mother while suppressing the thoughts that spoke to you to act like a child was something you wanted to replicate until you realised you understood it. And then you no longer wanted to recreate it. (Maybe that was the way it was for every woman or girl you knew: watching someone you loved hurt themself or not being able to do anything to prevent it when they started. Life was a cycle that way. A very annoying, frustrating one full of unfortunate circumstances and wrongly-picked out decks of cards.) 

“…you know what? I think I may be able to come,” you tell him. 

“You don’t have to go against your father for our sake.” 

“No, don’t worry about it. I think I know who to ask for help. Thank you, Megumi.” 

“Hi, Dr Ieiri?” 

“Kid? That you?” she goes, the slightest bit of excitement stark against her usual deadpan tone. “I thought you’d never call because of that old man.” 

“Haha, yeah— sorry to disturb you, but, um, Dr Ieiri? I may want to take you up on that offer, by the way, but um, I’m still on the fence. I mean, I know I want to be like you and do what you do but… I don’t know, I’m not quite sure about leaving the two of them alone here and all. But anyway, I just called you because I wanted to ask if there was, you know, any way you could get me to Tokyo somehow. I need to pass something to someone, but, um… I guess I’m going with this with the hope that I’ll change my mind and join you. But I’m… perpetually on the fence for now, I guess.” 

“Pft,” she snorts, “You little rebel, I’m in. I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

24-6-2018 

The decision and the plan were made as swiftly as you could. 

You decide to tell your father— you wouldn’t want to deceive him, after all. At least, you’d give him a quick notice. And then you’d leave. Like a snowflake before the first day of spring. He’ll probably tell your mother.  

“I’m leaving for Tokyo for a while,” you say, “I’ll be back before you can even realise I’m gone. Invitation from Dr Ieiri.” 

25-6-2018

“Why?” your father asks, the night before you leave. He suggested going out together at least once before you left. He always knew when you were making white lies. 

“I guess that maybe I’m just too much like you, Daddy.” 

For the first time in years he hugs you on the doorstep, patting you on the back on the day you’re set to leave. “Make sure you study and work hard,” he reminds you. 

“I’m leaving for Tokyo,” you announce.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy,” she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t even blink. 

“I’m not.” You are. 

“You know, your father travelled all over the country to see me again after we’d first met.” 

“Oh. Okay?” 

“And he’s always been dedicated to his job and dedicated to helping people.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m saying that the two of you are very similar. I’ve lived through this story before,” she states, “And you look just like your father right now.” your mother says. She hasn’t smiled the way she used to— you remember it vividly, that vibrant gleam in her, the liveliest and loveliest of life— in ages and you don’t think she will, not now of all times. 

“Really? Sometimes he says I take after you more.” 

“You will.” 

It doesn’t feel like a curse. Even if it usually would make your heart well up in guilt, it doesn’t feel like a curse. 

Maybe she knows that her time is running out. Maybe this is resignation. Whatever it is, you hold her hand first, but you’re also the first one to let the other go, your fingers slipping away from hers. You leave the door for the last time in a while, making another round in your life of that carousel of abandonment and reuniting and departures. 

25-6-2018 

Dr Ieiri greets you with a calm smile on her pallid face. 

“Good to see you again.” 

“It’s good to be back here,” you sigh. 

It is. 

You keep your hand on your other hand’s wrist, holding them in front of you. The cherry hair tie on it feels warm against your skin as you exit the station, summer heat embracing it softly. 

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[tvimagines221b]

Imagine: Consoling David When Some Of The Other Crew Members Are Cruel To Him.

The sound of Y/N’s L/N’s footsteps echoed across the air, as she made her way through the ship in search of David 8, the android assigned to the Prometheus mission. She had not seen David in several hours, not after the events that had taken place earlier that evening in the commissary. When David had been subjected to the unnecessary cruelty of his fellow very intoxicated crew mates. As she entered the lab, the one place she knew he may hide himself away her gaze landed on the blonde-haired synthetic who was sitting on a stack of boxes, his gaze deeply focused on the floor.

Y/N let out a deep breath, before stepping inside. “David?”

David’s head peered up, at the sound of the familiar voice. His gaze meeting hers, as he began to straighten himself up. “Miss L/N?”

“David… Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m quite alright.” He titled his head, as he observed her. Wondering what she had needed. “I was merely taking some time to run some diagnostics. Was there something you needed?”

Of course, Y/N was smarter than that. It was clear David’s feelings or what he felt as close to them, had been hurt. And? He didn’t want to admit that. She stepped closer to him, her expression softening. “David, I saw what happened in the commissary.”

David blinked, as his mind went back to the incident. “You did?”

She nodded. “I did.”

“Is that why you’re here?” David raised a curious eyebrow. As he pushed himself up to his feet, and stepped towards her.

“David…” She pursed her lips, as she tried to gather her words. “I’m sorry for what they said and did to you. Pushing you around like that and calling you those names? It wasn’t right.”

“There is no need to apologize.” He said. “ Our comrades were merely having a bit of fun, and let the drinking get to their heads. That is all.”

“That’s not an excuse to treat you like shit.”

“It’s all said and done now. Nothing that I can do about it.” He pointed out.

“David…” She took another step towards him, her gaze never leaving his. She knew everyone saw him as merely a tool for their own disposal. But her? She always saw him as something more. Something…Real perhaps? “No matter what anyone says, just because you aren’t human doesn’t mean you aren’t real. You are. They are just too stupid and ignorant to see that like I do.”

A flicker of what appeared to be surprise filled David’s gaze. “You…believe that?”

She gave a faint, genuine smile. “I do.”

In that moment, it seemed David had felt what might have been… Affection. Warmth even. It seemed her words had resonated deeply with him, even if his programming didn’t fully understand it. His own expression softened, and his mouth curled up into a soft smile as well. “Well, thank you. I do certainly appreciate the kind words.”

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. Smile never faltering, only growing. “It’s okay. That’s what friends are for.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” He tells her.

[all-pacas]

I saw some of your posts saying how observant and clever Chase is,while also being a "dumb whore". I feel like this is the right place to say that I don't find his "ditzy slut" moments funny in isolation,without taking his cunning,calculating traits into account. If Chase is just a "himbo",it takes away the shock value(not to mention I've seen way funnier "simple dumbasses" than "isolated Chase moments"). On the other hand,a guy who can clearly think on his feet making terrible mistakes that could be avoided by a bit of common sense is a recipe for hilarious "wtf?" moments. Like,I've seen you deduce stuff with striking accuracy with minimal information,how did you come with such an inane conclusion? It's what they call "high intelligence,low wisdom".

Also,I saw a post of you saying Foreman is "book-smarter" than Chase,while the latter is more observant and a "people-person",besides having more "improvising" skills. This is certainly interesting,considering their backgrounds(Foreman was raised in the hood,had some involvement with gangs;whereas Chase was a rich brat with many opportunities. One would think their skillsets would be inverted,lol)

Even before I finished reading this comment, I was planning on making a "he's a high in/low wisdom," so thanks for making that joke for me, lol.

The thing is, Chase is legitimately very lazy. Or like. He works hard and he's very good at his job, but I think it's interesting that both his specialties are… obviously to be a doctor you have to be smart, but he has very hands on specialties. His job isn't to memorize and know everything about auto-immune diseases, his job is to be great at cutting people open and fixing them. Again, I am well aware surgeons and intensive care takes a lot of knowledge! But it's interesting to me, you know? He definitely comes off as less cerebral.

And he's deeply unambitious. He spends half the show in a fellowship, a training program, because he's more comfortable there. Cameron and Foreman have a subplot about writing articles; we never hear anything about Chase doing the same. House literally has to fire Chase to get him off the team. Where Foreman is always desperately trying to prove himself and be the best doctor in the room, and where Cameron is honestly also deeply competitive and demands respect, Chase… we joke about him being spineless, he is spineless, but also he never really seems to mind it. He doesn't care. He does not seem offended Foreman keeps getting put in charge, nor does he really want it for himself. He has the most seniority of the fellows, but never plays it up; he's fine where he is. And I think that's where his 'laziness' comes in. He just… doesn't try very hard. Very rich kid of him, tbh. He coasts whenever possible.

Meanwhile Foreman is a huge perfectionist, and has a huge inferiority complex. He is the first to tell everyone he had perfect grades (he tells Chase a time or two), went to top schools, has a perfect resume, because Foreman derives a lot of his self worth from being able to say that: if he's the best, no one can say he doesn't belong. I think it's because of his background that he's like this: he's a Black man from a Bad Neighborhood and has a Record and he's absolutely aware what that makes him in the eyes of others. He can't afford to be like Chase — Chase can get away with being lazy and unambitious because he's a rich, good looking, white guy (and foreign, at that — but the good kind of foreign, who speaks English as a first language and comes from a rich and successful family). If Foreman acted like Chase — like he didn't give a shit about his career, like he was just working for House for the hell of it — it would look different. It would feel different. Foreman is a perfectionist and has an inferiority complex because his whole life the world has told him he's not as good, he's doomed to "turn out" bad, he won't and can't amount to anything because of who he is. Cameron is assertive and ambitious and gets really touchy when people underestimate or overlook her, because she's sensitive and kind and weak (Foreman himself tells Cameron he thinks she needs to "toughen up"), and so she also constantly has to prove herself, and that she can be a Good Doctor And Leader while still being compassionate and soft. Again, Chase doesn't have to worry about any of this. He can be unambitious and easy-going about his career, because it doesn't really matter to him in the same way. He doesn't have to be the best student or get the best marks and have the best record. He has very little to prove.

And in a way, Chase is in the same kind of perception trap as the others. Not to suggest he has it soooo much worse than Foreman, but because he's a Rich Good Looking Dude, you kind of expect him to be a nepobaby. You kind of expect him to be useless and underqualified and shallow. To coast on his looks and to not have brains and have no idea how to manage in the Real World. It's definitely how Foreman sees Chase — he says as much, and lowkey hates him for it, and fair enough — but again what's interesting to me is where it isn't quite true. Chase is brilliant, when he cares enough to try. His apathy is learned, not born from an easy life; he comes off as cool and easy-going but holds grudges and resentments and trauma about two inches down. He's afraid of rejection and trying and failing, and so stays in his comfort zones. But where Foreman spends all his time and energy trying to prove the entire world wrong, to fight every automatic perception of who he is as a person, Chase leans in to his own facade. I actually think that S8 Foreman is a pretty happy person. I think S8 Chase, Chase MD in House's office, is at least 70% miserable.

[inbarfink]

The thing about the difference in Red Guy’s behavior between ‘Transport’ and ‘Electricity’...

That in the former episode he was so agitated by the Format of their lives and so eager to get out-

 and in the latter he was so deeply uncomfortable by Yellow breaking away and questioning the Format that he felt actually Relieved when a new teacher came in and brought everything ‘back to normal’

Is so interesting and tragic no matter how you look at it.

Because it’s possible that it’s an indication that it is indeed not the same Red Guy but a ‘backup’.

That the trio we’ve followed back in ‘Transport’ is still starving and shivering in that post-apocalyptic junkyard and that the trio from ‘Electricity’ are more recent replacement - so this Red Guy might not be as used to exercising his free will or just not as sick and tired of the Format as the previous one.

Or maybe it is the ‘same’ Red Guy, or at least a backup that retains all the memories of the previous one, and he’s just been broken. After his attempt to escape backfired horribly and then snapped back to the house as if it never happened he’s just been broken. He’s more willing to go along with the Teachers and more weary of others trying to break from the Format because he thinks that he knows what happens when you do.

With both of these options, there’s also the added dimension that might’ve been Lesley’s plan all along? Why send an ill, clearly-past-his-prime Transport vehicle just as one of the puppets is getting restless and wants to get out?

So they can get out, and she can either break Red Guy’s dreams of escape or just have an excuse to get rid of him and replace them all with ‘fresh copies’. 

It seems like Yellow’s ‘ascension’ in ‘Electricity’ has happened many times before, but it was never enough to break the cycle - Yellow always ended up losing his batteries and Forgetting before he could make any progress. And like in the episode we saw, it was probably always because of Red and Duck.

Maybe Lesley suspected that having Red Guy as he was in ‘Transport’ - all agitated and rebellious - with a fully-charged Yellow Guy would be enough to break that cycle? That if Yellow had Red to actually back him up, things might’ve gone differently? So had to go to Certain Measures to make sure that’s not the kind of Red Guy that’s in the house when Electracey comes to visit? 

On the other hand, the explanation might be simply that there is no real ‘inconsistency’ in his behavior. Maybe Red Guy would’ve acted the same if Yellow Guy would’ve suddenly gotten Fully-Charged before things went really bad in ‘Transport’.

The truth might just be that as much as Red Guy feels miserable and tormented by the Format - these feelings might just not triumph his need to be smarter than Yellow Guy. 

That he’s just this emotionally committed to making fun of Yellow Guy for being stupid, that he might want to break free himself of the confines of the format but that doesn’t necessarily mean he believes his own friends should break away from the boxes he created for them in his mind, that he’s just straight-up that unnerved by the idea of a Smart Yellow Guy - that he accidentally shot his own goals in the foot rather than confront the idea Yellow Guy could be a person deserving of actual respect. 

And in a way, that simple mundane explanation is the darkest one. The idea that Red Guy just wants to bully his friend that much that it overrides his own desires for freedom. 

That he was so busy being disturbed by Yellow Guy not doing what Red thought he’s ‘supposed to do’ that he didn’t notice or care that Yellow was putting into words much of what Red was already feeling. 

That Red has unwittingly allowed a chance at actual freedom slip between his fingers just because he doesn’t respect Yellow Guy.

And he has probably done so many, many times already.