#and yeah i edited that jacket at the end to be blue it was actually beige

[buck2eddie]

fic moodboard inspired by i wish i said it better by @butchdiaz

“Have you considered,” she says, “that it's not the dating that's the problem?”

“Um,” Eddie replies eloquently once more, feeling lost. Hen sighs, looking at him like he can't grasp basic math.

“Maybe it's the dating women, Eddie. Maybe that's the problem.”

And, oh. Hen thinks he should date - oh.

He's surprised he made it to Buck's in one piece, driving through a haze, on autopilot towards the one person who can take the jumbled pieces of Eddie's mind and gently slot them back into place. He doesn't even register the time of day until he’s opening the door to loft with his key and saying,

“Hen thinks I should go on a date with a man,” which he guesses is paraphrasing, but you know. It's what she meant.

[sunrizef1]

Milk and Sugar

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not edited, cursing maybe, the ex gf isn’t anyone specific don’t @ me

Summary: Max is tired of his persistent ex girlfriend and friends that are maybe a little too empathetic about his breakup. What better way to scare them off than getting a new girlfriend? But he doesn’t actually want a new relationship. Enter: you. The perfect (fake) new girlfriend.

Word Count: 9.6k

Authors Note: this fic was kicking my ass im gonna be so fr. It took forever and I just couldn’t write the ending for some reason. Hopefully now that this is up, I can do something else lmfao

You were just doing a favor for a friend.

Or that’s what you had told yourself when Max had originally asked you to go along with his stupid idea. You hadn’t even really wanted to agree, by the way. He had just needed your help so badly and that’s what friends are for, right?

So that’s how you’d ended up in his garage, Red Bull hat pulled tightly over your head as you watched his car sail around the track in Brazil, the season well under way.

You’d met Max a few years back. You’d moved into the apartment next to his, not even blinking as your eyes scanned over the future world champion, too focused on your dog trying his best to distract you from the heavy box in your hands.

“Apollo! Stop!” You sighed at the dog as he jumped at your legs, trying his hardest to knock the box full of dog food and treats out of your arms. The dog, not knowing English, didn’t listen, of course, continuing his assault on your calves.

The box tilts in your grasp, coming dangerously close to falling out of your arms. But suddenly, the weight is lifted away and Apollo seems to turn his attention to whatever had relieved you from your struggle, giving you the opportunity to pull the small dog into your grasp, trying your best to calm his rowdiness down.

Once you’ve gotten the dog to calm down a significant amount, you look up to see who’d saved you from hours of cleaning loose dog food off the floor during your first day in your new apartment. You’re met with bright blue eyes staring back at you, a concerned look on the strangers face.

You’re too worried about the pretty man in front of you to even worry about Apollo as he starts to nibble lightly on your jacket.

“Are you okay?” And then he speaks for the first time and you’re captivated. Not in a love-at-first-sight way, of course. More of a this-guy-might-be-perfect kind of way.

You nod, gently separating your dogs mouth off your hoodie string, petting his, most-likely, empty head warmly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. This little guy just really wanted that food, I guess.”

The stranger laughs, moving the box in his arms to rest against his hip, “I’m more of a cat person, anyway.”

You fake a wince, shaking your head with a frown, “Ahh, guess we can’t be friends then, mysterious stranger. Im a dog person all the way.”

He laughs again, grinning warmly, “Any way I could help you with this? Can’t imagine it’s easy moving in with a dog running around.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your hand fumbling to fish the key to your new apartment out of your pocket, “Only if you’re free! I wouldn’t want to bother my new neighbor on my first day.”

Your neighbor shakes his head, light brown hair falling down on his forehead, “It’s no big deal, I’m surprisingly free today.”

You smile, pushing the door to your apartment open, setting Apollo down as you enter. The dog immediately starts to scope out the area, bounding up and down the halls, his collar jangling loudly as he does. You hear the man enter behind you, watching as he walks over and places the box of dog food on the counter in the kitchen.

“Usually I learn a man’s name before I invite him into my apartment,” you smirk, laughing as a blush coats your neighbors face. He takes the few steps back over to close the gap between you, sticking out a calloused hand toward you.

“I’m Max.”

You smile, repeating his name before reciting your own, clasping your hand in his much rougher one, tilting your head up at him as you shake, letting go after a few moments.

“It’s nice to meet you max,” you say, smiling as you see Max’s face light up happily, “How inclined would you be to helping me get the rest of my boxes?”

Max laughs as he sees the sweet grin on your face, shaking his head as he moves toward the door, “I’d love to help, y/n. Can’t have my new favorite neighbor moving in alone, can I?”

Your face splits into a grin as you follow him toward the exit, turning to make sure Apollo was comfortably inside the apartment so he wouldn’t try and run away before closing the door behind you.

Max did help you that day, the moving in process going substantially quicker with the help of the athlete. He even invited you over to his place for dinner, explaining that it’d be too much of a hassle for you to make dinner after moving in all day. You didn’t bring up the fact he’d been moving all day as well, simply following him next door instead.

That had been three years ago and you’d been friends ever since. It was a casual friendship, more moved by the proximity than anything else.

He’d had to explain f1 to you, you being completely unfamiliar with the sport despite having moved to Monaco, probably the place with the most connection to it. Now, you’d casually watch his races as you worked or ate dinner, not entirely sure what was going on but supporting your friend anyway.

He’d also eventually asked you to watch his cats for him, Jimmy and Sassy being surprisingly friendly with your puppy. Max had been scared about introducing them, prefacing with many statements about how much the cats hated dogs and that it really wouldnt be a problem if you couldn’t watch them if they hated each other.

All that talk went out the window when the first thing the pets did when they met each other was take a nap.

It was January when it happened. You had been sitting calmly in your apartment, watching Bridgerton and eating pasta, your work computer abandoned to the side of the couch. You had a blanket pulled over your lap, a hot mug of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Rare snow fell softly outside your window, albeit not very much snow but snow nonetheless.

You were very content.

This, of course, all came crashing down when you heard the sound of your apartment door banging open, heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of your neighbor. You’d given him a key for emergencies, although you couldn’t possibly imagine what could warrant an emergency at this time.

You roll your eyes as you hear him approach, setting your pasta down on the table and grabbing the remote to pause your show, turning as Max throws himself down on the couch next to you.

“Hello, Max. Can I help you?” You sigh, trying to force a smile onto your face. Max seems to catch your discontent and grimaces, wincing away slightly.

“Bad time?”

You let out a breath, not able to stay mad at the Dutch man for very long, “Maybe a little, but it’s fine, really. Did you need something?”

Max nods, sitting up straighter, “I may or may not have a formal request. Neighbor to neighbor.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his response, noting his slightly nervous behavior, “Okay?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes trailing over toward where your tv was currently paused, “You know how I just went through that breakup, right?”

You hum, all too familiar with the aforementioned breakup, having had Max barge into your apartment for comfort food and movie marathons more than a few nights in the wake of his, now ex, girlfriends departure.

“Well,” Max starts and you can sense the hesitation in his tone but considering he had interrupted your night, you opted to let him flounder, “It’s been weird on the grid since then.”

“Okay,” you hum, eyes glancing over his face and catching the way he grimaces.

“Ever since the break-up, all the guys have been looking at me like I’m a child, you know? Like I might fall apart any second. Even though I’m completely fine!”

You stare, knowing more than anyone else, that he wasn’t very fine for a while, although he’d miraculously recovered over the past few months. You also stared in hopes he’d soon get to the point of the conversation.

“They also keep trying to set me up with their friends as if I need a rebound when I would really rather stay single,” Max groans, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Your furrow your eyebrows, wondering where this could be going.

Max glances up, eyes avoiding yours at all costs, “I was wondering if you could, maybe..”

Max trails off, wincing slightly. You stare straight ahead at him blankly, waiting for him to finish his request. He does eventually mumble something under his breath and you lean forward, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry?”

Max grumbles, annoyed and you roll your eyes at the attitude of the man disrupting your own night.

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while?” Max rushes out, hands carding through his hair nervously, “Just long enough for the guys to leave me alone, you don’t even have to do anything, maybe just come to Brazil and Monaco-“

Max continues to ramble on for a few seconds, words seeming to fall out of his mouth unceremoniously before he’s cut off by you interrupting him.

“Max!” You raise your voice slightly in an attempt to talk to over him. Max freezes, looking at your face for the first time since he’s crashed through your front door, “I’ll do it.”

He stares at you blankly for a few moments, trying to process your words, “Really?”

You shrug, teeth digging into your lip as you turn your head toward the large window across the room that overlooked the darkened city of Monte Carlo, “Why not? You’re my friend. Plus I work remotely and who doesn’t want to travel around the world to all those different cities?”

Max’s face lights up at your response, his lips forming a huge grin. He rolls over into a lying position, practically star-fishing on your couch, “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”

You hum, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him close his eyes calmly. You slip up from the couch quietly, padding over to the kitchen to grab something.

“Where are you going? Did I scare you off already?” You hear Max call as you walk away. As you walk back over, his eyes are still closed though, signaling that he didn’t really think he’d scared you off.

He does open his eyes as you set the bowl of leftover pasta and a fork on his chest before grabbing your own and sitting down, grabbing the remote to press play. He glances over as you settle into the couch and move your blanket over your lap before he sits up. You take a bite of your pasta as you continue to watch your show. Max takes a second but he eventually digs in as well, sitting up in order to grasp the bowl better.

Even after the pastas finished, you both sit back on the couch in order to finish the show. You glance over at Max, his eyes still locked onto the screen.

What had you gotten yourself into?

————

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you sit in the passengers seat of Max’s car, the hoards outside having no idea what was waiting for them inside. You slide your sunglasses onto your nose, hoping they’d hide at least a little bit of the anxiety flowing through you.

You nod, turning your head toward Max in the drivers seat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Max hums, not entirely convinced but also aware he had no other option but to believe you considering he’s the one who’d asked you to do this. He opens his door, stepping out and sliding his own sunglasses on. You watch as he walks around the front of the car before stopping in front of your door and pulling it open. You pause for a moment but eventually step out, trying not to wince as the bright sun hits you.

You immediately step into his path, falling into stride next to him as you both walk toward the entrance. You hear the car lock behind you and watch Max pocket the keys.

The bright Miami sun beats down on your skin, causing you to wish you’d opted for a thinner shirt. Max had originally proposed for your first race to be Monaco but you had decided it was better to appear earlier than later for his sake. Plus, you’d always enjoyed Miami and were up for the idea of traveling there. You’d also originally planned to buy your own plane tickets but Max was quick to shut that one down.

As you both approached the turnstiles, Max pulls his lanyard out of his pocket. You don’t even notice as he pulls you inside the paddock, too busy trying not to notice the cameras surrounding you. Flashes come from all around you, the incessant clicks echoing through your head.

You finally do notice that Max hasn’t let go of your hand after he pulled you into the paddock. You grasp his hand a little tighter and he pulls you closer into his side as a response. When heat starts to rise to your face, you decide to blame it on the Miami sun.

As you both walk toward the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn to watch you walk by. You can feel people’s eyes trailing after you, locked on your unfamiliar form. Everything new in the paddock very quickly became a spectacle. Especially when it involved the current world champion.

You’re sure you’ll see pictures of yourself splashed all across the internet when you wake up in Max’s hotel room the next day. You’re sure your mom will send you whatever article they’ll attach your name to, no doubt hounding you for information about your new celebrity “boyfriend”.

You’d been curled up in Max’s hotel room the whole weekend, occasionally dipping out to get food with him between events. He’d wanted you to come to the track since Thursday but you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to step out as “Max Verstappens new girlfriend” until you’d woken up Sunday morning.

You’d woken up before Max, somehow. As you laid in your plush hotel room bed, you could hear Max’s soft breathing from the other bed filtering through the silence of the morning. Just outside the window, the city of Miami was waking up. At least, the early birds were.

You and Max had slept in the same room enough over the years, Max randomly crashing at your place pretty often, that when he suggested you getting a different room, you’d immediately turned him down. You were telling yourself it was just because it was nice to have the comfort of a friend but something deep down knew that that wasn’t the only reason.

You let the only sounds be his breathing and the light hum of the air on unit for a few more minutes while you woke up. You slid out of the bed as silently as possible, your feet padding quietly against the carpeted floor. You pull the door open to the balcony slowly, stepping out before closing it behind you. The sun is still pretty low in the sky but it still makes you flinch as it seeps into your eyes.

You sink into one of the two chairs out on the balcony, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top, letting your thoughts run wild.

You watch Miami move below you, the sun slowly shining down brighter and brighter, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

You weren’t entirely sure why you’d agreed to this idea so quickly. With every day that passed, you wished more and more that you hadn’t. Doubt seeped through you with every second you watched Max from the hotel television. He was just so good at his job and such a cool, wonderful person and athlete. How could you keep up with him? The press would be insistent and non-stop invasive. Fans would, no doubt, dogpile on you as well, both warning to know everything about you as well as rip you apart. You start to wonder if there was a single positive of this for you.

The door slides open behind you and you can hear Max moving onto the balcony beside you. You don’t glance over, only moving your gaze away from the skyline as a mug is held in front of your face. You glance down at it, spotting the coffee inside before you grasp the mug out of his hands gently. The ceramic warms your hands, the steam from the liquid splaying across your face.

“There was only those little creamer pods,” Max hums as he takes a sip of his own mug, leaning against the bannister in front of you, “Hope that’s okay.”

You chew at your lip, taking a sip of your own mug, humming lightly as your gaze locks on his back, “That’s fine, thanks.”

You’d usually take your coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar but you’d had enough gas station or hotel room coffee that you’d be able to survive with just the creamer pods.

You watch Max’s side profile as he stares out at the city, the sun bouncing off the edges and planes of his face and perfectly lighting up his eyes. You bask in quiet that settles between you, sipping at your coffee periodically. You don’t quickly forget the kindness of his gesture. Actually, the action stays in your head for longer than it probably should, mind running wild as you think about his motives.

You dismiss it, though, not wanting to linger on something that probably meant nothing.

“You coming to the race today?” Max turns around to face you, his back leaning against the rail he’d just been looking out over.

Your eyes trace him as he turns, evaluating his early morning form. As you look at this man, your friend, you think about the coffee in your hands. You think about the times he’d dogsat Apollo despite hating dogs, the days he’d come over just to keep you company when you were homesick, when he’d attempted to cook you soup when you’d been sick despite his complete inability to cook soup, you even think back to the first day you’d met when he’d helped you move in despite having known you for all of thirty seconds.

As all those memories passed through your mind, you suddenly remember why you’d agreed to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, taking a long sip of your coffee and hiding your grin as one of his own makes its way onto his lips.

————

That had been earlier that morning and know you were sat in Red Bull, watching as Max’s car passes the finish line in second. You’d been biting your nails the whole time, worry seeping through you. You weren’t the biggest formula 1 nerd but Max had forced you to watch enough old races for you to get what was going on. You’d even started watching his races when he was gone, something that had taken you months to admit.

Because of Max’s insistence, you knew enough to grimace as the safety car came out. You were right to grimace, of course, as Lando was quick to pass your friend, taking the lead and the win. Max, for what it’s worth, didn’t seem too angry about the result. You were aware of Landos lack of wins, seeing why his winning would make everyone happy, even the losers. Not that you were too happy, you’d only ever and only ever would cheer for Max, even if Lando was deserving of a win of his own.

Max doesn’t get asked about you during interviews. At least, not directly. He gets asked how life had been and he answers with a vague answer about love and how great life has been. You know he’s talking out of his ass but you’re grinning anyway, not able to hold back you mind from thinking about a world where everything he was saying was true.

“Landos gonna have a big celebration,” Max starts as he gets back to you after the podium, walking you both back toward his room so he can change, “He’ll probably be awake for the next 72 hours.”

You smile lightly, resting a tired head against his sweaty shoulder, “Good for him, seems like he really deserves it.”

Max nods with a pleasant look on his face, “Yeah, I’m not even that mad about losing. Nothing I could’ve done really. Im just glad he got his win.”

You nod, taking a breath in order to hold back the yawn threatening to leave your mouth, “You should go to his party, I’ll just go grab some dinner and head back to get some sleep.”

You both stop as you reach his room, Max facing you as he leans back against the door to open it. You notice the deep furrow in his eyebrows as he locks eyes with you, “What are you talking about?”

You furrow your own eyebrows as a response, tilting your head to the side, “You should go celebrate with your friend? Go have fun, Max!”

He shakes his head as he enters the room, quickly gathering his things to go take a quick shower, “Why would I celebrate a loss with a coworker when I can get some quality time with a friend instead? I’d rather celebrate a win with you instead of a loss without you. Trust me, you’ll be there to see me win.”

You’re already at a loss for words at his response but your rendered speechless as Max pulls his fireproofs off, tossing the shirt to the side passively. He turns away from you and you watch his muscles ripple under his skin, your face hearing greatly. His arms flex as he reaches for something and you have to bite your lip to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes are wide as he turns to glance over his shoulder at you, “That okay?”

At the risk of sounding like an idiot if you attempt to respond with words, you simply nod, eyes moving toward the floor. You don’t notice the smirk that forms on his lips as he catches your stare.

“I’m gonna shower and then we can leave,” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks into his bathroom. Your eyes are still locked onto the floor. You hear the sound of water pattering against the floor just after the door shuts.

You take a large sip of your water bottle, trying to wet your drying throat and keep the heat in your face at bay. You feel like you might be going crazy, the image of Max’s shirtless back etched into your mind.

Jesus Christ.

————

“What do you wanna watch?” Max mumbles through a mouth full of pizza, his hand coming up to covering it as he speaks.

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

Max shrugs as well, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and passively flickering through the channels as he swallows his bite of pizza, “Come get some food.”

He gestures toward the box of pizza on the edge of his bed with the remote, glancing toward you sitting in your own bed, watching him instead of the tv. You slide off the bed, taking the few steps it takes to get to his own and gently settling on the side he wasn’t currently sitting on.

Max watches you move, humming as you grasp a piece from the pizza box before he turns his attention back to the screen. You don’t notice as he settles on a movie, too busy trying not to absolutely scarf down the food in your hand.

Your eyes do leave the slice to glance over at Max, legs outstretched with his back firmly against the headboard. He’s wearing a Red Bull hoodie, even managing to wear team merch in his own bedroom. He’s also got some old basketball shorts, a faded logo sitting on the upper thigh that, no matter how much you try, you can’t understand.

You look away when you hear the familiar sound of Lightning McQueen echoing out of the television speakers. You quickly catch sight of the Italian formula car, deducing that Max has chosen Cars 2, of all movies.

You try your best not to laugh but a giggle escapes you anyway, causing you to bury your head in your shoulder to try and hide your grin.

“What?” Max asks you and you look forward again, eyes locked onto the movie, “What’s so funny?”

Your head turns toward the driver who’s grin is now matching your own, “You chose probably the only movie on here that uses the words “Grand Prix” can’t even get away from racing in your hotel room.”

He feigns offense for a few moments before reaching forward to grab another piece of pizza and sliding down into more of a lying position, “It’s a good movie.”

You both turn to the screen for a few moments but the second Lewis Hamilton’s voice rings out in the silence, you laugh loudly, Max groaning beside you.

You quickly dissolve into giggles, trying your hardest to reign it in but when you look over and see the amused frown on Max’s face, you’re right back into it again, Max laughing in response.

You both do eventually settle down, watching the movie and eating your food together. Even after the pizza box is empty and max moves to set it on the table, you don’t move from your spot, using the reasoning that it’s just easier to see the screen from his bed.

You try not to notice the proximity between you. You’d been holding hands all day and you’d pressed several kisses to his cheeks and forehead, being near him shouldn’t bother you. But when you shift slightly closer just to get more comfortable and Max’s arm falls down over your shoulder, you freeze, keeping as still as you can.

He doesn’t move his arm through the rest of the movie. Not that you’d know, considering you drift off with about half an hour to go. But Max doesn’t notice that either, considering how he fell asleep just after.

You wake up before him again the next morning, don’t the same thing you’d done the day before and walking out to the balcony. Max does the same thing he did as well, walking out with two mugs grasped gently in his grip.

When you take the mug from him, you try not to think about the fact you’d woken up limbs tangled with his and your face pressed into his chest.

————

The São Paulo Grand Prix.

It had been 6 months of this charade with Max. That’s right, you’d managed to suffer through 6 whole months of pretending to be his girlfriend. There’s been countless headlines from various news sites, trying their best to figure out every single detail about your life and relationship with Max.

The only thing keeping your mind together was the root of the problem himself and your prolonged roommate, Max.

He was actually really lovely. Every time you suggested a different room for his sake, you’d end up right where you were the week before, in a bed across from his. You’d also kept the same morning routine every day, waking up before Max and sitting out on the balcony until he brought coffee out for both of you.

He’d eventually gotten to a point where he sat in the chair next to you as opposed to standing up and leaning against the railing. There was still little conversation, though, you both enjoying the silence of an early morning instead.

This specific morning, you were watching the city of São Paulo move along below you. Goosebumps raised slightly as the wind-chilled November air nipped at the skin on your arms. The sun hadn’t completely rose yet and the previous nights rain had left the air colder than it should’ve been. You found yourself rubbing your hands over your arms and wishing you’d worn something other than a t-shirt.

The door slides open behind you and you take the mug as it’s placed in your eye line, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm up your cold hands. You lower your face toward the mug, letting the steam warm up your wind-chilled skin. You go to take a sip but it burns at your lips when you tilt the mug, causing you to set it down on the small table in order for it to cool for a few moments.

After you set it down, something lands in your lap. You look down, holding the item up and quickly recognizing it as one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies. You glance over at him but he’s still looking out over the city below, sipping passively at his mug of black coffee.

You look back down at the item of clothing, glancing between it and the owner for a few seconds before deciding to slip it on, your cold skin winning out over any reasonable thought that would tell you not to wear it.

The hoodies too big for you and it smells like Max but you don’t really seem to mind either of those things. Especially as your skin heats as the fabric passes over it.

Once you’ve got the hoodie on, you pick up your coffee again, blowing on it slightly to cool it down. You raise the cup to your lips, letting the warm liquid flow into your mouth.

You hum at the taste, quickly noticing that it tastes different than usual. You furrow your eyebrows, taking another sip. The oh-so wonderful taste that you’d missed so dearly over the past 6 months takes over your tastebuds. The taste of real milk and sugar.

You hum pleasantly, grasping the cup tightly. You glance over toward the man who’d handed you the drink, “Is this milk and sugar?”

Max glances toward you for a split-second before he looks back over the city, taking a sip of his own coffee, “Yeah, that’s how you like it, right? You always drink it like that back home.”

You ignore the jolt in your stomach when Max refers to the Monaco apartments as a shared home. You bite your lip with an affirmative hum, “Where’d you get milk and sugar?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk. There’s a corner store down the block and I picked some up,” Max says it casually, like it’s not the most considerate anyone had been of you, maybe ever.

You stare at him for a few moments, trying to ignore the warm feeling in your chest as you imagine him thinking about you enough to buy coffee ingredients the way you liked them.

As you sat outside, in his hoodie, sipping on the coffee he had made and handed to you, you finally accept what you’d been trying to deny for six months, if not longer.

You were in love with Max Verstappen.

You longed for the domesticity that was so present on mornings like these. You wanted to live this life with him all the time. You didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him after a race but you wanted to be able to press your lips against his when he won instead of the light touches you’d flutter against his cheek. You wanted to wear his hoodies all the time, not just when you were cold and forgot one of your own. You wanted to stop pretending in front of his friends. You wanted the hushed whispers to be sweet nothings instead of scheming and planning.

You wanted this life with him. All the time.

“Max-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by Max as he speaks instead.

“My ex is going to be at this race,” he states and you close your mouth, deflating slightly as you look away, “Just wanted to prepare you in case we run into her. You could also, um, probably stop coming once you scare her off.”

You nod meekly, taking a sip of your coffee. What had once been your idea of a sanctuary with the silence of the morning is now too quiet, allowing your thoughts to be the only noise in your head, images of Max’s ex rolling around aimlessly.

You stand up quickly, taking rushed steps back into the room. You down the last sips of your coffee and slide it onto the table, moving hurriedly around the room to gather your things for a shower. You vaguely notice Max walking back into the room with a confused look but you don’t even look up as you rush into the bathroom, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay?” Max says as you close the door behind you. You don’t notice the frown on his face as he disappears from view.

You’re too busy throwing off his hoodie and turning the shower to practically scalding heat, trying your hardest to rid yourself of thoughts about a life with Max, thoughts of his ex-girlfriend or thoughts about the stupid coffee he’d handed you and how stupid you were to be reading so much into it.

For a moment there, you’d thought that Max was enjoying this as much as you were. But his words were quick to remind you that you were only there to do a favour for him. He is only there to get his friends and his ex off his back. After that, you were free to go. It even vaguely sounded like Max didn’t want you to come back around the next weekend.

Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have suggested you stop coming? Especially just after talking about his ex. It was a stark reminder that you were only a tool for him to mess with his ex. She was the one he’d loved, you were just a girl he knew.

You stay under the scalding water long enough for the mirrors to fog and your fingertips to prune. Your cuticles sting from where the hot water had made its way into the raw skin, the cuts still fresh from where you’d been anxiously picking at them.

You only pull yourself from the water when you start to sway from the heat, your head going light and an ache echoing through your skull.

————

A few hours later, you’re by Max’s side again, although there’s a slightly larger distance between you than usual.

That would change soon, no doubt, when Max spotted his ex, pulling you close to attempt to show his devotion to your fake relationship.

But for now, you're an arms-length away, hoping that pushing him away would also push away your own feelings.

Max can't grasp even an idea as to why you were acting like this. Did you really want this to be over that badly? He knew he'd mentioned the idea of your… situation ending but he didn't think you'd be this eager to get away from him.

At the first camera flash, you take a step closer to Max, knowing how even the smallest hint of discontent between you would be twisted for headlines and it would end with your concerned mother calling you fifty times to check on your relationship after seeing an article on Facebook.

So you step closer, reaching over to intertwine your hands. Max doesn't resist and you try not to read into the gentle squeeze he replies with.

Brazils nice. Or at least, you assume. You'd been too distracted to take much notice. But you do notice the fans yelling from all around. Lively crowds sway and shout in the distance, hues of blue and black and orange all represented amongst the groups.

Max leads you through the paddock, determination clear in his steps. It was most likely just his own determination not to talk to anyone, especially a certain ex-girlfriend.

You both get to Red Bull without an unwanted interaction and the second you're out of the public eye, you're dropping his hand, none the wiser to the confused look on the driver's face.

The tension's palpable in his small room. Awkward conversation flows, your words biting and curt. Neither of you wants to address the obvious undertones your words contain. One of hostility and unshared secrets. But you manage to survive until Max has to leave to get ready for the race and you follow just a few minutes later, making your way to watch said race.

The race is fine. Max wins, but you were never in doubt about that. He was starting from pole, it'd be pretty hard for him to lose. Lando finished just a few seconds behind him, having closed the gap a bit after getting past George.

As the team starts to leave to go greet Max, Christian Horner pulls you along, saying something about Max wanting you at the barrier after the race. You're sure its just so he can put on a show for his ex.

But you follow along anyway, trying not to stumble in your heels as Christian walks along a lot faster than you'd want to.

You pass through other teams and friends and guests or the drivers, waving slightly at people you’d gotten to know over the past six months. The thought of not seeing any of these people again after you and Max faked a breakup made your stomach hurt but you ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was for the better.

When Christian reaches the team, he guides you both through the crowd, smiling politely at the engineers as he slides by.

It seems you both reach the barrier just in time, as Max is parking when you come to a stop. You watch as he pulls himself out of the car, cheering a bit to the fans around as he stands atop it. When he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, you try your hardest not to smile at the pure joy on his face.

He glances over his shoulder at something you can't see before he turns and catches your eye, quickly moving in your direction. Before you can even say a word, he's set his helmet down and wrapped both his hands around the sides of your face, pulling it toward his own. His lips are warm, the heat of the race still emanating off of him. You dismiss the sweat in his hair as you wrap a hand softly around the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his locks. Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb tracing the marks his helmet had left around his eyes.

You pull away first, glancing up into his eyes with a gentle smile, “Good job, you did amazing Max.”

His face heats and he glances away with a light chuckle, “Thank you, baby. I'm glad you're here.”

You wish he'd stop calling you that. At least for the sake of your heart jumping in your chest every time he does.

He looks away but your eyes are still firmly locked on the side of his face, tracing the familiar path around his features that they'd forged over the past six months. The same path they took every morning when you watched him look out over whatever city you were in that weekend. The same path they took when he fell asleep first during a movie in hopes of memorizing every detail before you slunk back into your own bed to fall asleep, the image of his face still etched into your mind.

But as you stare up at Max, trying to memorize the puzzle pieces of his face while he talks to Christian, you realize how futile of an endeavour it is. Not matter how hard you try, you'll never get the slope of his nose just right in your memories. You'll never get the right shade of turquoise for his eyes. The sandy-dark-blond of his hair will fade away until it was nothing in your mind but the shade of your coffee in the morning instead of the colour of his hair.

Maybe you should find a different apartment. Surely, Monaco had a different apartment complex that was far enough away from Max to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts of him that constantly plagued your love-adled brain.

Throughout all of that, you’d almost forgotten you were in love with him.

But when Max turns back to you, a glint in his eyes and a bright smile gracing his lips, you're suddenly all too aware of that fact.

“I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

You nod, smile slowly drifting as he walks away to get weighed and do all the usual post-race theatrics.

Christian pats his hand on your shoulder firmly, smiling as you turn around, “Let’s get to the podium, kid.”

You let Christian lead you away, yet again making his way through the crowd to get you both to the front.

The podium celebration is cute, Max’s happiness practically contagious. Lando and George are enthralled as well, the Brits both happy to back on the podium once again.

But when Max leans over to spray the champagne on the team, you put your hands over your face as Christian laughs beside you, both of you trying to avoid the sticky liquid as much as possible.

You peel away from the crowd after Max walks off, trying to find your way to wherever Max had gone.

As you'd left, you'd wandered away from Christian, who knew the paddock much better than you did. This was your first time here and you found yourself looking around for any sign of the Red Bull driver or, at least, a familiar face who could point you in the right direction.

It takes you a few minutes to gain your bearings but when you hear the familiar sound of Max’s voice, you go that direction, turning a corner to see his face.

And you do see him, post-race glow and all. But it's not just him you find. Standing entirely too close to him with her hand resting on his shoulder, is Max’s ex-girlfriend. She's smiling warmly, nodding animatedly at whatever it is Max is saying. Which, from constantly talking to him, you know is not worth the reaction she's giving him.

He's glancing around, clearly not comfortable with the situation. You huff, looking around before conceding and walking over to the pair. Were you maybe taking your time a little bit? Yeah, but you really didn't want to do this.

You roll your eyes when you catch Max’s eye and a relieved look rolls over his face, “Hey, baby.”

Max uses your arrival as an excuse to take a step back, swinging his arm around your shoulder. He's still covered in champagne and sweat but you ignore it, “Hey, Max.”

You finally glance up to meet the eye of the woman in front of you, her eyes narrowed as she looks between you, “Oh my god, hi! You must be Max’s ex!”

She rolls her eyes before smiling tightly with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I am. You must be his new girlfriend.”

You hum affirmatively, smiling wide as you glance over to the man beside you, “I am, yeah. He's just so perfect. We’re so happy together!”

She narrows her eyes again, glancing you up and down before her eyes stop on your face. You roll your head to the side to rest your temple on his shoulder, resting one of your hands against his chest.

“Well, I’m happy you moved on, Max,” She says, turning her entire attention to the man in question, “You seem… perfect together.”

Max gleams, nodding as he leans in to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I’m really happy.”

His ex chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before huffing and moving away, turning to shout over her shoulder as she walks away, “Have a great life, Max!”

“Thanks, I guess!” Max replies, laughing as soon as the woman is out of earshot. He pulls away from your side, turning to fully face you.

“Thank you!” Max cheers, grasping your shoulders with his hands, “Did you see her face? She was so pissed that I'd moved on.”

You hum, letting him be happy by himself while you stood quietly, “Yeah, you're welcome.”

You peel away from Max, turning to go back to the car park so you can leave. You don't say anything to Max before you walk away, leaving him to jog to catch up to you.

“You okay?” He asks once he's by your side again. You glance over, catching the concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” you nod curtly, looking back ahead, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

He doesn't seem convinced but he leaves it be, turning away as well.

He pretends not to notice when you coincidentally step away after he tries to grab your hand.

While Max debriefs, you text one of your friends to ask if you could stay with her for a few days when you got back to Monaco. After this fake relationship was over, you needed to get away from Max for a while just to try and push away the growing feelings you have for the Dutch man.

And with the departure of Max’s ex, you'd served your purpose and you could finally get out of Max’s life and give him the solitude he so longed for.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the only noise being the sound of your nails tapping against the screen of your phone. Max glances over periodically but you eventually set your phone down, choosing to stare out the window as the dark streets of Brazil pass by quickly.

When you get back to the hotel, you open the car door before Max can get it for you like he usually does. He sends you another glance, trailing passively behind as you walk in front of him. You both pass through the lobby and the elevator, your steps determined and much quicker than Max really wanted to be walking.

He's still riding the high of his win and the defeat of his ex-girlfriend but you're in your own mind, too sick to your stomach to be happy for him.

You pull out the spare room key when you arrive at the room, pressing it against the sensor before shoving the door open roughly, letting it fall against Max behind you who catches it.

You toss the key on the table by the door and set your phone down beside it. You still don't turn around as you throw the jacket he had let you borrow down on his bed.

"What is your problem?" You hear Max’s voice ring out in the otherwise quiet room. Annoyance paints his words, causing you to pause for a split-second.

"I don't have a problem." You say, cringing when you catch how much of a lie it sounds. You move on, though, pulling your suitcase out from under the bed and unzipping it.

Max scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you sure? Because it really feels like you do."

"It's nothing, Max." You reply sharply, walking into the attached bathroom, grateful to get away from his gaze for a second.

You come back out, your toiletry bag in hand. You set it down in your suitcase and stand up, walking over to the closet and pulling your clothes off the rack. The sound of the hangers hitting together echoes through your head, only contributing to the headache that had been growing since your revelation that morning.

Max finally catches onto what you're doing and speaks, his voice almost panicked, "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"What, already? Why?" You try not to be swayed by the hurt in his voice, turning around and walking past him to set your clothes down in your case.

He follows you over, stepping closer as you stand up. You try and step past him but he puts his arm out, stopping you in your tracks. You concede with a sigh, finally looking him in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Max.”

"But it does! What's wrong?" You finally step past him, on your way to go gather the rest of your things but his question makes you turn your head as you walk away.

"Max! It doesn't matter!" You immediately regret how loud your voice is but this wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the people next door.

Max shakes his head, following you as you walk toward the doot in order to grab your shoes, "No, no, no. You've been like this all day and I can't think of a reason why. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"

Your face twists, causing you to shake your head as you walk away, praying he wont follow you this time, "No, Max, that's not-"

He doesn't completely follow you but he does step a bit closer, shaking his head with a loud groan, "Then enlighten me! What could possibly happened in the past day that's making you act like this? Why are you leaving? Why won't you tell me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Why are you-"

"Because I'm in love with you, Max!" You shout, finally turning to face him as you say it, making eye contact with him for the first time since you'd walked in.

Silence falls between you and you toss your shoes down, covering your face with one of your hands. For a second, you think that Max might never respond, your stomach turning at the thought.

How hard could it be to find a different apartment in Monaco?

"What?" Max’s voice is soft and you look back to him, trying to will your frustrated tears not to fall.

"I'm in love with you! I fell in love with you and I know you don't feel the same. You only wanted me to do this to placate your friends and scare away your ex and now im getting out of your hair. I'm leaving you alone like you wanted in the first place,” Tears finally drip down your face and you don't bother to wipe them away, knowing there was only more where they came from. You look away as you explain, eyes locked onto the carpet beneath you, not wanting to face your embarrassment head-on.

"What are you talking about?" At Max’s purely confused tone, you look back to his face, teeth digging sharply into your bottom lip.

His face is soft, confusion etched into the furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips and you swallow, trying to rebuild the confidence you’d had at the start of your outburst.

The hotel room suddenly feels too cold, the air causing you to rub your hands over your shoulders in order to suppress the goosebumps that had started to rise. When you do speak again, your voice is soft, volume just above a whisper.

"This morning. You said I could stop coming after this race. And I did my job, I scared away your ex. You don't need me,” you trail off at the end of your statement, your voice breaking slightly as you shake your head, tears streaming out of your closed eyes and down your cheeks.

You expect Max to agree, to send you away, to end your friendship out of pure embarrassment after your decleration.

But he doesn't.

His voice is soft, just as yours was. His words are hushed but the emotion behind them seeps through every single word.

"I do, though. I do need you."

You look up, eyes widening at his statement. You can do nothing but stare as he steps closer, his hands grasping the sides of your face. Your own hands reach up to hold his wrists, just wanting to hold him someway.

He raises an eyebrow gently, quirking his head to ask for silent permission. You nod and its only a split-second before he's leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.

His hands cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, his kiss causing your brain to practically melt. You mold together, leaning as close to him as you can as your hold conveys months and months of pent-up and hidden emotions.

As he pulls away, your lips want to chase his but you hold back, your eyes flickering open as he leans his forehead against yours. Neither of your speak for a few moments, silence settling between the two of you ask you bask in the adoration between you.

Max’s hand drifts back to your jaw, his thumb drifting across your cheekbone passively. You see his eyes look up and you glance up as well, catching his sparkling gaze in yours.

“I love you,” the words tumble out of his mouth, falling smoothly out of the lips you oh-so wished he would press against your own once again, “I'm in love with you. I fell for you during this whole thing, everything about you.”

You go to respond but he cuts you off, shaking his head lightly.

“I only told you that you could stop coming because I thought you'd grown tired of all this,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, leaning slightly into your hand that had drifted into his hair, “But I'm kind of glad I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, quirking your head. Max pauses, allowing you the chance to admire every feature of his face, turning his freckles into constellations that you'd willingly stargaze in for hours. His hair is tousled from where your fingers had tangled in it and his lips are red from being pressed against yours. His teeth dig into said lip as he thinks before responding. You'd honestly be fine if he never finished his thought and you got to just look at him forever.

But he does finish his thought, the look in his eyes making your heart jump, "Because I don't want to pretend anymore."

You wait a moment, giving him the chance to take it back in case this was a joke, in case he didn't really mean it. But he doesn't take it back, he doesn't laugh.

And so you nod, "I want to do this with you for real, Max. I don't want to lie to anyone anymore, I want to celebrate with you after a race, not because people expect me to, but because I love you."

Max lights up, his face splitting into a wide grin at your words. Before you can react, his arms are around you and your feet are lifted off the ground as Max basically throws you onto the bed beside you.

Your laugh echoes through the hotel room, punctuated by the sound of Max flopping down next to you. You continue to giggle, glancing down to meet Max’s eyes, a special glint shining through.

You calm down after a few seconds as Max continures to gaze at you. When silence finally comes over you, Max leans up to rest on his elbows as you sit up slightly to look down at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” He says softly, “Dont know if you noticed.”

You hum, biting your lip to hold back your laugh, “I assumed so, yeah.”

You laugh as Max huffs, reaching a hand up to pull you down beside him, “Shut up.”

And you do, going quiet as your lips meet his. Later that night, as your both lying in bed, together this time, you fall asleep with your head against his chest, basking in the long-lastint but newly-confessed love between you.

The next morning, you wake up before Max, as you'd done so often. You slip out of his hold and pad over softly to the balcony, sliding on one of his hoodies before you open the sliding door.

You sink into one of the two chairs, looking out over the city of Sao Paulo as it slowly wakes up. The sun peeks out over the horizon, adding light to the previously dark morning.

Eventually, the door slides open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know it’s Max. But you look anyway, happy to take any chance to observe the man.

You take the mug from his offering hand, grasping the warm ceramic tightly. Max doesn’t walk over to the railing, instead moving toward the chair next to you. Before he sits down, he slides it over, pushing it as close to your chair as it could go. He sits down and you twist to sit sideways, leaning your legs over the arm of the chair. Max gently pulls your ankles over his chair to rest in his lap before he takes a long sip of his coffee.

You take a long sip of your own mug as well, letting the taste of the coffee coat your throat and warm your heart.

Milk and sugar, just the way you like it.

——————

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

[pedrospatch]

captive

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You find yourself missing your captor while he’s out on an early morning hunt with the rest of the group.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. IMPLIED PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, it’s implied her family members were also killed, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own, stockholm syndrome, reader deals with a lot of very distressing and conflicting feelings, Joel isn’t too creepy or extremely dark, but he is still not a good person, mentions of Tommy. VERY BRIEF SMUT in the form of cockwarming, daddy kink but i didn’t go overboard this time, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, sweetheart) if i missed anything, you can POLITELY let me know because if i missed anything, it was purely accidental. minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i might actually throw up idk. i’ve had this itch to try dark joel and seeing as i have major writer’s block with all my other wips i decided to just scratch the itch. this is a little out of my comfort zone but i actually ended up feeling pleased with what i wrote. this is my personal take on dark/raider joel, i’m sure it is very out of character but it’s fanfiction so…yeah. here it is.

It’s the rain that rouses you from your sleep.

It beats down heavily on the remote cabin’s tin roof.

Loud. Much too loud.

You roll over, settling yourself on your side.

The mattress is old, worn, rotting beneath the sheets.

You can’t complain, though. At least you have a bed.

Everybody else is forced to sleep on the hard floor.

He always gets the room with the bed.

As his special girl, that means you always get the room with the bed too.

It’s not quite as flattering as one would believe.

He only ever wants the bedroom for one reason—to keep you behind a locked door so you can’t run.

You sigh softly and stare out the window. He’d secured that too, made certain that it couldn’t be opened from the inside.

Closing your eyes, you try and go back to sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come.

His absence is starting to bother you.

You’ve been with him for an entire season now.

You’re getting used to him.

The sound of his voice. 

The warmth of his body.

The taste of his lips.

You can’t even sleep without him next to you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, clutching the stale sheets, balling them in your fists out of frustration.

How was it possible? How could you be missing him?

He had taken everything from you.

Your family.

Your home. 

Your innocence.

He was holding you captive. He was a monster.

But a monster doesn’t keep you safe.

Doesn’t clothe you.

Doesn’t feed you.

Doesn’t protect you.

He did all of those things and more. 

Is that why you feel so empty without him beside you?

Is that why you’re no longer so certain you would run if you were given the chance to escape him?

You fucking hated him for what he’d done.

Yet here you are, aching for him to come back to you.

It’s another hour before you hear the lock clicking. 

Joel pushes through the door, quietly closing it behind him.

“Y’awake?” he asks, slipping his pack off his shoulders.

“Mhm,” you answer with your back to him. “I am.”

You hear the sound of his pack hitting the floor.

His worn leather boots being kicked off. 

His rifle being set down, propped against the wall.

“How was the hunt?”

You can feel him freeze as he’s taking off his jacket.

Getting you to willingly speak to him had always been a lot like pulling teeth. Difficult, almost impossible.

When he doesn’t respond, you roll over to face him.

There’s a swoop in your tummy.

Joel is drenched from head to toe. His blue denim shirt clings to his broad frame and his dark, graying curls are slicked back away from his face.

He’s got such a handsome face.

Monsters aren’t supposed to have handsome faces.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re really askin’ me how the hunt went?” Suspicion laces his tone. “Why? Y’worried you won’t eat tonight?”

Of course you weren’t.

Joel Miller doesn’t let you go hungry.

When food is scarce, he makes sure you eat first. If he notices you rubbing your tummy because your portion wasn’t enough, he’ll give you his own portion.

He takes care of you.

“No.” You pause and sit up. The sheets you two share fall away from your body, leaving your soft, supple breasts on full display for him. “Just wanted to know how your morning went. That’s all.”

It’s not your tits that make his cock twitch against the zipper of his jeans—it’s the sincerity that flashes across your features, the sound of it in the tone of your voice.

You’re being sweet to him.

He clears his throat lightly.

“Went real good. Brought down a deer. Female, ‘bout a hundred pounds or so. Enough to keep all of us well fed for the next couple of weeks,” he says with a nod. “Was pissin’ rain the entire time but it was worth it. Tommy’s in the shed out back right now dressin’ it so we can get a stew started.” He pauses. “You’re gonna get a proper meal tonight, babygirl. Belly’s gonna be nice and full.”

He’s not just talking about food and you know it.

You make an effort to meet his gaze, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do it, not when you remembered how he’d taken you away from your family—how he had carried you over his shoulder, kicking and screaming as his people raided your camp and slaughtered every last member of your group because that’s what Joel Miller had ordered them to do.

Looking him in the eye might be the one thing you will never, ever be able to do.

“It’s cold,” you murmur after a minute. “You should get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

With a subtle nod, Joel turns around and starts peeling off his clothes until he’s completely naked. He uses an old rag to dry himself off as best as he can, although it doesn’t do much for him.

You can’t help yourself and stare—your gaze drags over the strong muscles of his back and shoulders, how they flex and ripple beneath his skin with every single one of his movements. Arousal pools between your thighs and all you can do is fucking hate yourself for wanting it, for wanting him.

“S’pretty early still,” he states, his back still to you as he runs the rag through his hair. “Y’should try to get some more sleep.”

The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think about stopping it.

“I couldn’t sleep while you were gone.”

Surprised, he turns around.

Almost immediately, your eyes fall to his cock.

Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still so fucking big.

“Is that so?” Joel asks, sounding rather pleased. 

“Yes,” you say, softly. “I—I missed you.”

His lips turn upwards into a subtle, faint grin.

“Yeah?” he coos. “My sweet little girl missed me while I was gone? Hm?” Slowly, he approaches the bed. It dips slightly and the frame creaks as he plants a knee on the mattress and leans over towards you. Gently, Joel takes your chin between his index finger and thumb. “Y’need Daddy by your side so you can sleep, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whisper, warm tears glazing over your eyes.

It’s bad enough your body welcomed him so easily.

Now your heart was starting to do the same.

And then there was your mind.

What if that stopped fighting him too?

Part of you is afraid it already has.

Joel climbs into bed, joining you under the sheets.

“M’here, my pretty girl. C’mere, honey.” He coaxes you to lay on your side and pulls you back against his chest. His skin is still damp, frigid from having been out in the elements, but somehow he’s still warm. “That better?”

“Need you closer,” you mumble, wiggling against him.

Joel groans, his thick cock hard and throbbing against the small of your back. He nips at your bare shoulder as his hand drags down the length of your body and slips between your thighs. “Christ, babygirl. Pussy’s soakin’ wet for me. Looks like she missed me while I was gone too, didn’t she, sweetheart?”

He runs his finger along your slick, silky folds.

“Daddy,” you whimper, bucking into his hand.

“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy knows what you need.”

Joel pulls his hand from between your legs.

You almost cry—you’re so fucking desperate for him. 

And you shouldn’t be. 

He reaches in between your bodies, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Without warning, he slips it into your tight, aching cunt, sheathing himself in your warm, wet heat in one smooth stroke.

You choke out a sob.

It’s always overwhelming, that initial stretch.

That fullness, the feeling of him being in your belly.

“S’alright, sweetheart. S’alright. I know you can take it,” he soothes you. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always take my cock so fuckin’ well. So good for me, baby. You feel better now that Daddy’s cock is buried inside your pretty little pussy?”

He drapes an arm around you, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Yes,” you breathe, placing your hand on top of his.

Joel feathers a kiss onto your neck.

“Go to sleep, babygirl. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he promises you.

That shouldn’t be a comfort to you. But it is.

You close your eyes, your fingers subconsciously lacing together with his as you start to drift.

Cunt full of his cock, you fall asleep in your captor’s arms.

divider credit to @saradika🤍

[lovebugism]

I had this idea about eddie dating reader who is obsessed with pop boy bands! tysmm

i'm so obsessed with this idea bless you anon — the town freak tries to impress the local cool girl and, in true eddie munson fashion, it doesn't go as quite expected (friends to lovers, fluff, shameless it reference, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie stands across the counter at Family Video and lays a collection of cassettes on top of it. 

Steve blinks once at the tapes, then twice up at him. “…What is this?” he wonders, visibly dumbfounded.

“Do you interrogate every customer that comes in here?” the wild-haired boy quips, digging into the pockets of his leather jacket for some wadded-up bills. “Just scan it.”

“New Kids on the Block? New Edition?” Steve announces as he bags each plastic case. His chiseled features twist in confusion. “Who are you, and what did you do with Eddie Munson?”

“It’s not for me, dingus.”

“First of all, don’t call me that. And second of all, who the hell is it for then?”

“Someone. No one,” Eddie mumbles, shrugging and shifting his weight on his feet, doing a terrible job of hiding his sudden sheepishness. “Don’t worry about it.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “A girl?”

“…Maybe.”

“A pretty girl?”

Eddie scoffs an unamusing laugh. “Sure. If that’s the only way your pea brain knows how to describe someone as… uncanny, and demonic, and fascinating as she is.”

Steve’s brows pinch in a subtle horror. He’s not sure what most of those words mean, but they don’t really sound like compliments. He just shrugs and decides not to press it any further. “…Okay.”

“She’s just into this stuff, okay?” Eddie confesses, gesticulating wildly with his ringed hands. “And I wanna like the things that she likes— Is that so bad?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s very, very bad,” Steve answers without thinking twice. He passes him the plastic bag full of tapes with a sympathetic glint in his eye. “’Cause that means you’re in love.”

————— 

Eddie stands outside the arcade in wait for you. He knows you always come to The Palace on Fridays — right before the school day ends, so you have a couple hours of peace before the snotty middle schoolers run you out with their post-P.E. stench.

He wears a set of headphones over his untamed curls and a walkman clipped to his jeans. It plays a pop song he’s only ever heard on the car radio. Steve’s radio, specifically. He’s heard you hum it a time or two, and it’s the only time he’s ever been able to stand it — as if he needed another reason to prove Steve right. 

He was head over heels, disgustingly, wretchedly, completely, utterly, and totally in love with you.

Propped against the driver’s side door of his van, he exhales smoke from his lungs and sees you walking down the sidewalk. 

Your pink tights swish at the knees while your plaid skirt, in a grass green color, flutters around your thighs. Your sweater’s bright blue, and the only thing halfway matching the rest of your outfit is the bright emerald dinosaur pictured on the front of it.

You beam at the sight of him. “Teddy? What are you doing here?”

“I’d guess the same thing you’re doing here, sweetheart,” he quips, playing cool as he snuffs out his cigarette with the heel of his worn sneaker.

“Normally, you’re busy on Fridays… I’m starting to feel like you’re stalking me.”

Eddie’s deep brown eyes narrow, twinkling with dark chocolate. “And how would you know that I’m busy on Fridays?” he teases, tilting his wild head to his shoulder.

You shrug, faltering for a blink of a moment. “Corroded Coffin always performs on Fridays. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, maybe just you and the… four other drunks that happento come to the Hideout on Fridays,” he jokes with a boyish laugh.

“Touché,” you concede, smiling wider. “Whatcha listening to?”

You reach out for him, taking the headphones from his ears like you always do. You place them over your own head and expect to hear something loud and heavy — that’s what you usually catch him listening to, anyway. A wide smile blooms on your lips when a familiar song fills your ears.

“New Kids on the Block?” you wonder with a scrunched nose, voice distant with disbelief.

Eddie had been expecting this. He’d spent ten minutes praying this exact moment would happen, but he stumbles over himself about it anyway. “Yeah. Uh, Family Video— They’re selling tapes and stuff now— To keep from going out of business, I guess,” he stammers, laughing awkwardly as he scratches the back of his neck. “So, I don’t know. I guess, I thought I’d—”

“Buy it for yourself?” you finish for him, with a knowing grin on your petaled mouth. “And then try to impress me by waiting outside the arcade I go to every Friday? Even though you’re usually busy practicing?”

You see right through him with little effort. Mostly because you’re one and the same — hopelessly in love and tripping over yourselves with it.

Eddie nods, then laughs. “Yeah, actually. That’s— That’s the half of it, yeah.”

Your smile quietens when you slip the headphones back over his head, fingers brushing his curls and palms grazing his flushed cheeks. “Maybe we can go together sometime?” you offer and step back from him again. “I can show you where they kept the real music. You know, make sure they got the right stuff to listen to.”

His chest swells. He almost forgets to breathe. 

He never, in a million years, would’ve expected his first unofficial date with you to be at Family Video, of all places — but he’s grateful for it nonetheless. He figures he could go just about anywhere and be happy as long as he could look over and see you standing right beside him.

Eddie nods until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Sure. Yeah. That sounds— That sounds good.”

“I’ll call you when I’m free,” you tease and walk on by him. 

You’re always free. He knows that. You’re always everywhere and nowhere all at once. Even now, standing right in front of him, you’ll disappear like you’d never been there at all. You just like to keep him guessing, really, and he knows that, too. It’s why he melts for you so easy.

“Okay,” he nods, rapid and utterly dumb.

“I’ll see you soon. Maybe.”

He watches you meander towards the entrance of the arcade. Words start to bubble in his throat. They spill out before his brain can decide whether or not to actually say them. “Please don’t go girl,” he blurts while the lyrics of the same song croon in his ears.

You spin around and blink wordlessly at him. You don’t look confused, but you don’t look impressed either. Eddie can’t gauge the emotion on your face, and he falters.

“That’s the... That’s the name of… of one of their songs,” he stammers.

He blinks, and you’re beaming again. A golden laugh spills from your lips, like honey and summer and sunshine. “I know, Teddy,” you grin — voice as warm and as fond as your glittering gaze. 

He grieves when you turn away again, walking into the arcade without looking back at him once.

Eddie doesn’t breathe again until you’re gone, forgets how to until you’re done clouding his vision.

You’ll be the death of him yet.

[achillesuwu]

Izzy death & The end of the golden age of piracy

I like the explanation someone gave here and I will add a bit to it (yeah Izzy death was rushed and the way they filmed it wasn’t…very good (Ed’s hand why do you suddenly appear, stede why are you smiling then sad, everyone why do you look like a pack of children in front of a tv playing boring ad—) :

basically, this show happens when the the end of the golden age of piracy is near (the real Blackbeard dying marked that end in real life). Izzy in s2 began to represent actual piracy; he grew to be a "proper" pirate.

He actually tell us that in the last ep :

"it isn't about glory, it isn’t about gettin’ what you want. It’s about belonging to something when the world has told you you’re nothin’. It’s about finding the family to kill for when yours are long dead. It’s about letting go of ego for something larger. The Crew. »

"You are not a pirate, lad. You are a spoiled, entitled bunch of twats dressed in puffy, blue nighties."

"Kill us. Kill us all. Our spirit will last throughout your entire fuckin’ empire because… we’re good. And you are a rancid syphilitic cunt."

"it isn't about glory, […] It’s about letting go of ego for something larger. The Crew. " izzy s1 was very much focused on his pride, on the way pirate should be. He cared about the crew but he is way too focused on Blackbeard, too focused on them living but not actually being happy (‘You see him as some sort of a…pet’, ‘you are not proper pirate’, the whole mutiny that happens because the crew was fed up with his attitude, ‘piniiiiiiing about his boyfriend […] Ed better watch his steps.’). Izzy in s2 learned that he has to let go of his ego for something larger, the crew, to be a community (the whole ‘you are born alone, you die alone’ & him getting his unicorn leg, La vie en rose ‘It’s him for me, me for him in life. He said it to me, He swore it to me till death do us apart.* And as soon as I see him, then, I feel him bringing me back to life.** Me being Izzy, Him being the crew. The crew give a purpose to Izzy.)

*the literal translation is more ‘It’s him for me, me for him in life. He said it to me, He swore it to me for life’ but it’s implicitly a marriage vow. (Native french speaker here)

**‘And as soon as I see him, then, I feel my heart inside me beating.’ But here in the context of ofmd I think the romantic meaning is remplaced by ‘this is my purpose in life and it makes me feel alive’

"It’s about belonging to something when the world has told you you’re nothing" Izzy s1 insisted that Edward was nothing, in s1 he also thought that he was nothing without Blackbeard, he thought the Crew of the revenge wasn’t his crew but just a bunch of moron. In s2 we see him learn that he is someone outside of his job toward Blackbeard & his dying speech show us that he learned that Ed wasn’t nothing either (something something about the cursed jacket being Blackbeard’s heart and Izzy agreeing that it isn’t cursed but for the crew [and Edward now] they have to let it go). + I don’t need to explain that we see him in s2 actually seeing the crew as, well, an actual crew where he belong too

‘It’s about finding the family to kill for when yours are long dead’ (I won’t spend a long moment on that because it’s more about Edward but something something Ed actually killing for the first time in ep 8 something something something Him accepting his darkest part fully (piracy) when he think Stede could be dead. Well actually it really fit—)

So, Izzy dying isn’t about the old way dying as some people seem to think it represents(the old way are already dead at that point as many pointed out). It’s about… well, piracy dying. The golden age of piracy is ending (merthur when will I get free of you—).

And yet, why did David said this ?

Well, people, again : Izzy speech !

"Kill us. Kill us all. Our spirit will last throughout your entire fuckin’ empire because… we’re good. And you are a rancid syphilitic cunt."

(Edit : also it’s interesting that the only other time syphilis is said in the show is in the cursed jacket episode)

So, him dying is about piracy dying. HOWEVER, community ( as we can see with the revenge) still seems to thrive because even if ‘piracy’ dies, the core of it will not. Community & their stories (the unicorn is an animal of legend) will still outlive everything else, expecially the assh*les [the British empire]. The seagull (Button) represent change. Piracy died because everything end at some point but what is death if not change? (The Sandman is this you ?) What if life began again ? Good will not just triumph against Evil, it will outlive it and if it dies it will rise again changed.

OFMD isn’t about the immortality of thing, it isn’t about staying miserable where you are, it’s about the death of thing. No matter how hard it’s you have to try, let go of the rope that bind you and change.

So yeah, I agree, that final episode was rushed but I disagree, Izzy dying wasn’t pointless.

[sanderssideswriting]

the new my roommate is hades is here so let's see if it's any better then the first. It'll go the same as last time, my live thoughts then conclusion/overall thoughts

I still don't like the guy who plays Hades. He's trying soo hard to be edgy and dark but it's so forced.

ahhh exposition about engineering of all things. "You did chemical engineering, why are you taking intro to engineering." "there's different types of engineering Hades. Keep up, you're the immortal one, how do you not know this?" "your lives are insignificant, I can't keep up with every technological advancement, especially these days."

I guess they're trying to put in little bits of educational content like how they said last time that Benjamin Franklin never went to college. But there has to be a better way. But at the end of the day this is just a way to introduce Hephaestus to Thomas, sorry, Homer.

Hephaestus is a nerd, the reminds the teacher of the homework nerd. I do like the jacket though, it's a cool jacket.

soooo the gods just being at this community college is just a known fact? "oh yeah the greek gods? nah that's normal, we had the norse pantheon here last semester. They were great, they threw a ton of amazing parties. Loki was very active in the LGBT group, it was actually pretty cool."

this fucking script god damn. Like I get the message being that "education is important and it's important to always strive to learn new things" but does it have to be so blatant all the time. Is there no such thing as subtly.

all the talking in class is killing me.

Personally if I was trying to show the god of the dead the beauty in humanity and that humans are worthy of caring for I wouldn't drag him to an engineering class of all things. Why not a class on the history of music, art history, a class on literature.

Hermes jump scare, I smiled a little

there's so much exposition

Hades summoned the ghost of Nicola Tesla. why haven't they been booted out for being disruptive???

at least it was pointed out that they're being disruptive to everyone else who are trying to learn

Why is hades being nice and having an emption moment with Thomas Homer? they don't fucking like each other, Hades whole thing is he doesn't care about humanity

this also, just isn't that great of an emotional moment. Like it makes sense Hephaestus is being nice but why's Hades being decent

why was Hephaestus aware of him before they met?

this is a class, not group therapy

I skipped the bit of Thomas Homer standing up to yell at everyone. I got the bit about him telling the teacher to teach everyone and not just praise Hephaestus and yeah, that's fair. If you're going to not explain anything and be a dick of a teach you gotta be equally dickish to everyone

the teacher's a fucking robot. the explains why the teacher knew Hephaestus was a god and why they didn't get kicked out of class

final thoughts are I think that if I was 15 again I'd like it a bit more, back when I was younger and still admired Thomas and worshipped the ground he walked on. But that was a years ago.

Thomas specifically refers to being in a community college, but in community colleges all you can get is an associates degree and credits for a four year school to get a bachelors degree.

The editing, not great, but there was also way less effects, only a dark circle around Hades and the Nicola Tesla ghost being very blue and red lightning when the robot broke that was a few seconds too long.

And of course, Thomas's horribly ill fitting glasses I cannot get over because look at them.

[mallowbees]

@vanivanvanilla @thegalacticbucket @joebraltar @xxswagcorexx @korkynormy man thats a lot of @’s! anyway-

Some guys! Some dudes! :D This was very fun to draw. I don’t have them cropped to be usable emotes obviously, but if anyone does want to like adjust and edit these so they can actually be used as discord emotes in your personal fan servers or something absolutely feel free. (oh yeah also an extra vitalasy in there, as a treat)

[ID: The bottom two images are requests from tumblr post comments and the ask box. They read as the following: “vanivanvanilla: vortex and sleepy perhaps?” “thegalacticbucket: Planet and UwU!!!” “joebraltar: jaron smug” “xxswagcorexx: ashswagg and violence.” “korkynormy asked: How about some bashful parrot?” “Anonymous asked: ashswag + angy”

The top image is 5 drawings in marker of the corresponding lifestealers and emotions and the additional non-requested Vitalasy.

First is Vitalasy, he is a guy with a shadowed face in a black and purple gradient trimmed hooded cloak. The top of his hood shows the shape of two animal ears and he has an orange fringe peaking out. He has a fox tail that is wagging. He is grinning with closed eyes holding a light red heart.

Second is Ashswagg. He a light brown skinned guy with black hair with light purple strips and lavender eyes. He is wearing a purple suit jacket, dark grey vest, lavender shirt, and black tie. He is surrounded by purple and black pixelated glitches. He is gritting his teeth with a red anime anger mark next to him.

Third is Planetlord. They are a pure white person with clouds in the shape of hair. He is wearing a blue, purple, and pink gradient hoodie and headband with white star specks on it. His eyes are closed in an “UwU” face with their hands by their mouth. Two yellow sparkles are next to him.

Fourth is Vort3xdragon. He is a light skinned guy with light brown hair. He is wearing a blue hoodie and has small black horns and sunglasses. He has a pink blanket draped over his shoulders and his face is resting on his hand. Three Z’s are next to him to indicate tiredness.

Fifth is Parrotx2. He is a green, blue, and yellow parrot, He is wearing a fancy clock with a hood. The top half of the clock is a teal to green to yellow gradient lined in white ruffles. The bottom half if a dark blue to light blue gradient. The clock is held shut with a blue diamond shape. His wing is behind his head as he smiles bashfully.

Sixth is Yeah_Jaron. He is a light skinned guy with dark blue eyes and light yellow-brown hair. He is wearing a brown hat and trench coat, white button up, and red tie. A hand holds out a knife at him and he leans away smugly with his hands up.

End ID]

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

blurple time.

finally finished this~ months after he appeared 😅

you can tell there's a bit of a punk/industrial vibe infusing the whole design. i also drew from various details in the comics, and other random things like bulletproof leather jackets.

closeups, ramblings, (and a version with a cape) under the cut:

i was originally not planning to add a cape cause i wasn't sure if i could make it work and tbh. still not sure. i like the way the purple cape looks from behind but the inside is like. idk. if it's purple then it looks weird, but the black feels off to me too... I don't think any of the other colors would work.

oh also i decided this glows in the dark (predictable as always)

Helmet's been through some sketches and stuff, spent a while figuring out the mechanisms and so on and settled on this design in the end.

Obviously you can see here the top is leather, it's based on a combo of a motorcycle cowl (with an angled zip you can just see there, and then the shoulders from an armored motorcycle jacket i was looking at. then the blue is meant to be a (heavily) modified like, boilersuit or whatever those are. mechanic's jumpsuit.

Plus all the spikes. Obviously there's no spider-punk in this setting but I like the aesthetics, and I like giving Hobie like a little thing of his own in terms of hobbies/interests so I thought adding that punk aspect would be fun, esp as it ties into his whole thing with being unsure of himself and being a little different and so on.

the lenses are one piece each, just with different colors of film on them, like you see on a variety of custom motorcycle visors. used chrome silver for the white "eyes," which i think would look cool and matches the metal hardware. very reflective. hobie prob won't be the only design with chrome/mirrored lenses for reflective purposes (thinking about the hobgoblin) (well. technically peter will also have aluminized lenses at one point but that's a spare mask for fires, not a main look)

earlier concept which i drew on my phone actually lol. some of this i obv jus copy-pasted cause it was fine as is, other stuff got tweaked, like i ended up changing the lens shape to look a little more like the comics and i did end up scrapping that shape for the faceplate/chin.

and you can see there i edited a pic from the comics playing with what colors i wanted to use. i liked the steel blue that showed up in some of the older painted art from the Prowler's earliest appearances, and I felt like I wanted to give him a color other than purple and green, though I didn't wanna ditch the purple either, so I ended up with this kind of neon blurple + navy combo that I liked a lot. And the silver too.

back of the jacket and helmet. Didn't originally plan on adding all those spikes but then I was sketching this out and I was like, oh... that would look cool... so i committed!! i like how it looks.

Originally I also had no logo/symbol on the front of the chest so I decided to put one on the back. Then I ended up adding that flat panel to the chest and added the symbol there too, and decided to keep the back one as well. i can def see a 19 year old being like, hell yeah... sick... people will definitely take me seriously now. and you know what. he's right.

i will admit i ended up a little dissatisfied with the story i told involving the Prowler in the linked fic, but... I also probably shouldn't have tried to wedge it between like five warring subplots. But it was like, the spot that made the most sense. If this was a cartoon I think it would be a like... 1-2 issue special focused more on him. And also peter would jump out the window. (The real tragedy that I didn't include cause it's hilarious, poor Hobie XD)

Anywho. Is this mechanism needlessly complex? Perhaps. I tried to simplify it at one point but then the more I thought about it the less the simplified version worked so I stuck with the OG idea here. I mean, i guess I could have ditched the locking mechanism entirely but i thought it would be fun if the helmet was self-locking! I also wanted a way for it to rotate/go visor up even with the spikes, thus it being a pretty large rotating faceplate with the spikes on it instead of elsewhere. not that he ever puts it up in the fic. peter just takes hobie's helmet off there 😂

He's also wearing a balaclava under there which I didn't bother really drawing, mostly to protect his hair (which I put in twists for related reasons of helmet-wearing) (I briefly had been considering braids but then, well, ATSV and Miles G. happened and I said, well now I cannot do that XD) (I mean I COULD have but I wanted to do something else here lol) Anyway. The idea here is that it's a kind of slide lock with a spring-loaded peg that slots into the holes, and the square hole with the square peg locks the faceplate in place and prevents it from rotating, but when the square peg is in the round hole, the faceplate can rotate freely. The only wrinkle here would be that Hobie has to pull on both locks simultaneously or as close to it as possible or he'd risk cracking the helmet (i assume? stress and pressure etc.)

Sliding the lock forward also slides the whole plate forward, which lets me (in theory) have a flush, smooth silhouette while still allowing it to come forward enough to push up. It's not vacuum sealed or anything though. But it does have like... air filters and a voice modulator and some other things. MOST of the suit is super low tech and doesn't require electricity but the helmet probably has batteries or something. (peter's new webshooters at this point are also battery powered lol)

Helmet is pretty typical fiberglass construction with foam pads inside. Idea there is that Hobie made a lot of this stuff using campus workshop resources like autobody or machining shop on campus, for stuff like getting fiberglass, having a space to work in, making polycarbonate lenses etc. Though it's totally possible to do fiberglass work at home too. (peter also uses campus resources for his lenses specifically btw)

Gauntlets!!! Uhhhh ngl very difficult. Trying to design armored gauntlets that don't look like knightly armor is very hard for me cause I always just google reference pics of knightly armor. LOL. I think these came out alright. There's a hint of motocross influence there too (though really even in modern days armor is armor so there end up being shared traits) The gloves ended up being mostly leather with some armored parts, though there is probably some inner armor which is not visible. The claws I left bare since you would not be able to sharpen claws coated in plasti dip—

oh yeah the purple color on all the hard parts is plasti dip, which is basically rubber paint.

The wrist gauntlets are very very very loosely based on a guy's grappling rope web-shooter thing which you can see in this youtube video: link. though i didn't wanna just rip him off so i mostly just said, alright, tubes and a harness—which the prowler already has in the comics anyway, albeit smaller. so really it's pretty much like the comics anyway.

Right wrist has the green laser dazzler, both have grapples, left wrist has EMP (not pictured) which Hobie uses in the scene I have him and Peter fight except then I realized recently I didn't actually explain what that was or how it was working 😂 I probably should have done that scene from Hobie's POV in retrospect. It's an EMP though and it scrambles Peter's spidey sense via interference/signal noise.

(electromagnetic signals being responsible for several cases of irl "hauntings" —> spider-man's haunted)

waist utility belt... I like the way the silver belt on the old art looks! So I decided to make these hard silver hinged cases instead of soft pouches (originally were soft but I changed my mind while coloring) — IDK if these really are metal or if they're just fiberglass with chrome paint lol but either way, shiny chromey, hinged to open, the insides are probably padded... buckle is actually metal though.

Boots—modified snow boots. These are loosely based off of a real thing btw: link to blog post

The silver things are the magnets. Gauntlets are probably also magnetic but those are not visible like the boot ones. I also read some comments saying certain kinds of electromagnets would be preferable for something like boots but ultimately, IDK how to draw that, so I just drew it like they look in jen foxbot's prototype.

There was some other stuff I initially planned on including that didn't make the cut, aside from the cape. I was toying with stuff like a jetpack (or really, a jump jet), gliding/wingsuit, etc. but... I didn't use any of those. Kept it simple and streamlined for the most part. so no gliding for this Prowler, but hey, he's got magnet boots.

maybe in the future if Hobie ends up with an Iron Man-esque collapsible suit, perhaps he'll be able to fly, but for now, he's a college student making a supervillain persona so he can keep himself from getting evicted...

And his face!!! cutie :3 loosely inspired by Greg Eagles' face (the voice actor for grimm from billy and mandy) Not that ATSV had no impact on this design but that was the main thing. Twists to keep his hair protected in the helmet under the balaclava etc. and something he can do himself, and then a twist out afterward.

plus you can see the nose rings I mention in Creep here.

[trinoxtrinox]

A party to be remembered through the ages (part 4)

Ectoberhaunt 2022, Side Chaos. Prompt: Costume Party

Summary: Danny finishes his preparations for the party with the help of Sam and Tucker.

Authors note: I knew I would end up with more than 1 chapter left to write down XD Though this time I think there'll be 2 more chapters for sure and then I'll finally be done with this XD

Edit: First - Previous - Next

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“Is the face paint ready?” Danny asked, while sitting on the toilet of his room with Sam painting his face little by little dark red with his eyes closed.

“Stop moving and don’t talk, I’m almost done.” Sam reprimanded him, using a brush to put the last of the facepaint on, “aaaaand done. Am I good or what?”

“Sam, you’re awesome, thanks a lot.” Danny said as he watched himself in the mirror, witnessing how even part of his neck was covered in dark red as well. Not all of it, but enough so that when he transforms there won’t be any tan colored skin showing off on his neck. “Now let’s get out of here and see how Tucker’s faring with the last minute fixes to my costume.”

“Still can’t believe you let Cujo play with the hoodie and cape for your costume.”

“Hey, a dog gotta do what a dog gonna do, there’s no way I’ll get between Cujo and his toy.”

“Yeah, thanks for having me do the last minute fixes guys.” Tucker said without a bit of malice in his voice as he finished stitching the ripped edges of the purple piece of cloth back together, finally letting it be shown that it was a single piece once again, though with a lot of thread present as a sort of patchwork over everything else.

“Thanks Tuck, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t so good at sewing.”

“Most likely asked any seamstress from Dora, right?”

“If not then I’m pretty sure anyone from the Far Frozen would do, I mean, you know very well that they basically worship the ground he stands in Sam.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, it’s so weird being treated like that.”

“Wasn’t that quite the ego boost to you back then?”

“Yeah, you flaunted your status as the ‘Great One’ to our faces for a whole week when we first met Frostbite.”

“That got old after a while, and having that many people treating you like that gets uncomfortable after the third time they keep at it.”

“Well that’s enough of that, now put on the cloak, I need to see if I managed to keep it all at the same level or if I need to make any last second corrections.” Tucker literally threw the cloth at his friend, standing up as well so that he could properly assess if any changes would be needed. Putting on the final peace of the disguise, Danny spins himself slowly to showcase to his friends everything about it, from the dark red pain that has covered his entire face, to the cloak that covers his hair and creates a soft shadow over his entire face, the purple cape with stitching all around it that actually is leveled correctly, the light purple jacket and skirt he’s wearing as well, both tied up together with a black belt, dark red leggings courtesy of Sam as well, black gloves that reach to his elbows, a clearly homemade drawn on paper grandfather clock door sticked to the chest with tape, a single wristwatch over the right glove as a single stick with a clock made of paper is being held with more tape is being wielded in his left hand.

“Well I’ll be damned, that looks awesome. Now turn into a ghost so we can take a picture of that.” Sam got her polaroid camera ready, pointing upwards towards her friend.

“Alright alright, calm your jets guys.” And with a flash of light, Danny successfully transformed back into Phantom, rings of light traveling across his body and slowly turning everything that was dark red into light blue, disguise itself thankfully remaining the same color as it was before the transformation.

“I always find it weird that your clothes are unaffected by the transformation dude.” Tucker pointed out as Sam took photo after photo with different angles of Danny’s costume.

“Same dude, though it’s terribly convenient, that way I don’t have to explain any cloth that swapped color or something.”

“Say that to my leggins.” Sam pointed out as her piece of clothing changed color with the rest of Danny’s body.

“Huh, maybe it has something to do with the fact that they’re so form fitting?”

“Maybe, they basically look like a second skin on you, that can’t be comfortable.”

“Actually they’re pretty neat, a bit tight in some places though, but I can understand why some girls use them all the time at least.”

“They really are one of the best clothes in the world, if only they didn’t break as often as they do.”

“Well, there’s that then. How long until the party begins?”

“About two and a half hours, but considering how far the Far Frozen is, that would leave me with 30 minutes of wiggle room in case something goes wrong.”

“Well get going then! Don’t keep your plus 3 waiting.”

“Yeah dude, go enjoy your party, Sam and I will keep Amity safe, with that party going on no strong ghosts should come around.”

“Got it guys, thanks for covering up for me. Anything that you can’t take up you can leave to Val or call me, I have no gripes leaving the party early.”

“Nuh-uh, you’ll go to the party, enjoy it to the fullest, and only return once you’ve grown bored or is over.” Sam began pushing Danny through the door and eventually down the stairs towards the lab.

“Yeah, go have fun dude, if you can bring anything back though please take a souvenir for us. I’d like to know if there’ll be some human safe food in that party.” Tucker wondered out loud while he opened the door to the Specter Speeder so his friend could push his other friend inside it.

“Fine fine, I’ll leave for the party now. See you in a few hours.”

[lilytheflowerwrites]

seven for the wip thing pretty please?

7 - in the end, time forever favors the young, post-MCC7 Booty Bandits

This one has a dearly beloved headcanon of winged c!Ela. I haven't written much of this so basically everything I have is under the readmore... Man, I should really finish and post this at some point.

(Also this was written way before December 2021 and eduo relationship reveal so B2 here are referred to as having a sibling-like relationship; if I ever get to finish this, I'll edit that bit but keep that in mind for now)

"Elaina’s face is painted in green and cyan, and even if she doesn’t scream as loud as the people closer to the Dodgebolt arena do, her wings are flapping happily behind her, as if she’s ready to take off and fly. She can’t, of course, there’s not much space around, she already has to stand closer to the walls as it is because of her wings, but she can’t help but be excited and thrilled.

They’ve celebrated Puffy’s MCC victory just a month before, Ela’s tears smearing the blue and lime paint on her face - the tradition she can’t let go of, something to show her appreciation for both of her best friends. She still denies she had cried, blames it on the rain that has suddenly started in their home world just as they came back, but really, how could she not with the way Puffy was so happy and proud of herself? 

She thinks she won’t cry now, probably, but she still cheers and flaps her wings as she starts to move through the crowd to get to the Winners podium. Halfway there someone grabs her hand and she turns to see Puffy, bright-eyed and overjoyed:

“He did it!”

As they walk out of the dome and into the cool night air, she can already see four people in the gleaming crowns on the podium, one taller than all the others. It’s Eret, and he was looking for them, and the moment he sees them he smiles and waves. Ela raises her and Puffy’s locked hands and waves back.

“Our boy,” Puffy says proudly, and Elaina can’t help but feel fondness in her chest too. They’re all around the same age, Eret only four months younger than Puffy, but he falls into the role of youngest too well, as if they’re actual siblings and not just really close friends.

Elaina always wonders if there’s any difference.

As the Champions take photos, the crowd thins out a little, and when they both finally get right to the Podium, Ela can spread her wings without bumping anyone with them. Finally, all the ceremonials are over, and Eret hops down to them. He has a green jacket on with 17 printed on the back, his hair is all over his face, but he’s smiling so brightly as Puffy excitedly hugs him and Ela covers them both with her wings - the old habit of hers, arms too short to hug them both at once so she adapts.

“You did it!” Puffy excitedly shouts once again. “Let’s go!”

“Now we’re even,” Eret tells her and turns to Elaina. “You should be next, just so we all can match.”

“I need to get invited first,” she laughs. “And I’m not as good as you both anyways.”

“Excuse me,” someone says. Elaina turns and finds herself face-to-face with a smiling mask.

“Dream!” Eret excitedly waves at him too.

“Eret,” the masked man nods. “Congratulations. I wanted to talk to you, mind if we go somewhere more private? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Yeah, sure!” Eret easily answers, and then - to Ela and Puffy: “I’ll be back soon, okay? Stay here.” "

(I wonder what they'll be talking about)

Send me a number from 1 to 13 and I'll show you a c!Eret WIP/AU idea!

[princess-of-the-corner]

sorry inturrupting the spoilers but finally finished writing this down + edits so here ya go.

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

Honestly, the hardest part of writing Cinnabar is trying to keep gabes cold demeanor while still showing that he does genuinely care for his family because it's so different from how I love my family. 

Anyway, more Cinnabar stuff to show the tumblr folks

Cinnabar actually does have a summer version of his outfit, ditching the suit jacket and half-cape for a blood red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up just below the elbows and a charcoal gray suit vest, complete with decorative fake pockets.

When some of the team comments on wishing that they had different outfits, he inquires if they never talked to their 'spirits' about it because he's very sure that's a thing, or at least should be. Queue an awkward silence, then Queen bee dropping the transformation to ask pollen about it. Once pollen confirms it they all look at each other, turn to Cinnabar, and say "I'll be right back!" before running off in opposite directions, while Cholé stays there with pollen to work on her own, and Cinnabar decides to take a nap to recover from a recent 'death march' (Akuma based outfits, it turns out to be a hidden success in America).

He's woken up once everyones back at meet up point, and being a fashion designer he takes it upon himself to critic the outfits (just gonna do your designs since my idea of fashion is a red shirt, blue pants, brown shoes, and a black baseball cap), but does give compliments on a few points. Though he still insists that his son and nephew would do the thigh highs better… but don't tell them he admitted to it, he'd never hear the end of it.

AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHA

I love this though because he's just like 'damn y'all need some fashion'.

Jokes aside that first part about writing Gabriel is just.

I am all sorts of wack with that because like. I know what that's like to an extent? Because just. My family and I have /very/ different love languages.

Like. This post for reference.

I am much more of a gifts/acts person with my love language. Idc how broke I am, I'm getting you /something/ for your birthday/christmas. I'll buy little snacks. I'll send funny memes. Sometimes a Quality Time type if I have the social energy because yeah even if it's just sitting on the couch watching an episode of Castle I've seen a hundred times it's great.

But my family is more of a touch/words type. They say 'I love you' often. They will hug.

And like. To them, I seem more distant. Because I don't verbally say I love them(I'll say it back if they say it). And I don't like long hugs. But I do learn! I know to hug if they're feeling down. Or just like a head pat if I walk by. Trying to make sure to remember the verbal 'love you!' part is trickiest but I try.

So writing Gabriel, I keep that in mind. That his love language is /different/ from others like Adrien. So you have to figure out what his love language is.

And considering Gabriel's entire character in Canon is 'I love my wife so much I will go full supervillain to save her life', he is very much an 'acts' type. He also seems to try with gifts but doesn't quite get the actual 'gift' part of it right (the pen).

So keeping that in mind really helps in portraying him showing affection for others. And yes he can eventually learn(either through observing or through someone telling him) that the others need different versions to show affection.

[evispunk]

QUIET

a/n: if the name 'mila' snuck in here at any point lmk bc i went through 1 too many name changes summary: After the party, the Fantastic Five and their friends make it back to the girls' apartment where Ethan musters up the courage to ask Camille out on a date. warnings: cringe, barely edited writing, pepsi lover wc: 2320

CHAD TURNED THE TV volume down a couple of notches as Cami had been napping on the girls' couch, still slightly tipsy and exhausted. She didn't want to sleep alone in her dorm due to her being drunk, so she ended up deciding to sleep over at Tara's place. Now, she was wearing her pajamas from earlier along with her fuzzy lined Crocs and Chad's Varsity jacket overtop so she didn't freeze.

"The coroners have confirmed that the two young men found inside of their apartment were found dead." they announced into their microphone, flashing red and blue lights behind them. Camille shuffled from her spot on the couch, stretching out from the fetal position she was in. Ultimately, she fell back asleep and retracted back into her fetal position, pulling Chad's jacket over her face just below her nose.

"Hey, you guys might want to get your asses in here and check this out!" Chad called out to the rest of their friends who were in the other room and he banged on Quinn's door a bit.

"Their names have just been released: Jason Carvey and Greg-"

"Jason Carvey?" Camille mumbled from the couch, "That's the creepy dude I always see when I'm on my way to Art History."

"Holy shit, that's the chode from our film class." Mindy declared, pausing before looking at the girl in front of her. "When did you wake up?" she poked Cami's shoulder.

"I didn't. Goodnight."

"Also found at the crime scene were various Ghostface costumes - the character popularized by the Stab movie franchise." that was all it took for Camille to shoot up, pushing her curly, faded black hair behind her ears. Most everyone's blood ran cold as they all stared in silence, watching the TV for any more information.

Sam, of course, was already running around the apartment and concocting.

"Pack a bag, both of you. We leave in ten-"

"OMG, why can't we just live in peace?" Camille groaned.

"We've got to get out of this city."

"Namaste." she said, bringing her hands into a prayer position and sitting criss-cross. Everyone looked away from her, clearly not amused and she rolled her eyes in return. "Fucking Ghostface ass ugly ass murdering ass bitch." she muttered to herself, biting on her nails as she walked into the kitchen.

"Sam! You can't be serious! Look, this- this may not have anything to do with us!" she heard the rest of the conversation as they came back into earshot.

"Okay, really? You believe that?" Camille scoffed, annoyed with the shorter girl.

"It might not, okay?! They could just be some fanatics that don't actually give a shit about the past and just want to go kill someone while in a Ghostface mask."

"It's really not that hard to connect the dots, Tara. They were killed! Someone clearly didn't want them to become Ghostface before they had the chance. Okay, someone else is out there, Tara, and they're going to come after us next. It's your decision whether to believe it or not, but we both know what the right choice is." she finished, biting into a PopTart.

"It's a big city, it's Halloween-"

"Tara! It's not a coincidence! We both knew him, and now he's dead!"

"Barely."

"Chad, Mindy, back us up." Sam intervened, growing frustrated and tired. Chad turned to face them, shrugging.

"It is a little bit-"

"Close to home." his twin finished from across the room. Sam nodded, as if to say 'I told you so'.

"Okay, uh- Quinn, your dad's a cop, right?" Camille continued, and Quinn nodded. "Can you call him and try to find out what's going on?

"Yeah, before we make the decision to give up my whole college experience and flee the fucking state? Again." Tara eyed Sam, and the redhead pulled her phone out of her pocket.

"I'm calling him now." she put her phone up to her ear when suddenly, Sam's phone began to ring. They all jumped, and Cami bumped into Ethan who had walked up behind her. She mumbled a quick apology and he shrugged it off. Sam slowly walked over to her phone as the rest of them stood silent.

"Who is it?" Tara asked, attempting to see the Caller ID.

"It was just Gale," she let out a sigh of relief, and most everyone else did too.

"Yeah, that was bad timing on her part." the tall black-haired girl said, pinching her bridge.

"Why did everyone just freak out when her phone rang?" Ethan asked from beside her, looking around in confusion. She turned to face him directly, and hit him in the head.

"Hello? Stupidity leak!"

"You gotta keep up, my dude." Anika sighed, slightly rolling her eyes.

"I'm going to the bathroom." Camille sighed, walking to use the bathroom. Once she walked in and closed the door, she ran a brush through her hair and pulled it back with a claw clip. She the turned the sink on, splashing cold water over her puffy face.

She took a deep breath, hoping this was all just a coincidence and it would be over soon- or, maybe this was all a fucked up dream and she would wake up in a matter of a few minutes. Though, subconsciously, she knew it wasn't. Ghostface was back, and this one was just going to be even smarter than Amber and Richie and all of the other ones before him.

She dried her face off and stepped out of the bathroom. Everyone else had scattered and she caught Ethan's eye.

"Hey," he pulled a tight lipped grin for a second.

"Hey. Where did everybody go?"

"Sam had to go down to the police station. They found her driver's license next to the bodies."

"Wait, seriously?" he nodded. "Shit. Do they think she did it?"

"I don't know. All of those rumors online..."

"I don't wanna talk about it." she pushed one of her curtain bangs behind her ear, but it came back down to her face as it was too short. Ethan and Chad shared a couple of glances before the jock urged him to do whatever they had seemingly talked about. This went unnoticed to Camille.

"Hey, Camille, um." he began, looking at the girl next to him as she glanced up at him.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my dorm tonight and- and watch a movie, maybe?" he finally asked and she looked at him with a smile.

"Like a date?"

"Uh, no. Or yeah. Whatever you want it to be."

"It doesn't matter what I want, it's what you asked. Come on, is it a date or no?" he looked at Chad, who nodded less subtly than he had probably intended.

"Yes- yeah. It's a date." he nodded.

"Perfect. What should I wear?"

"Just something comfortable. I guess come over around... ten?" he replied and she nodded. Cami got up, pecked his cheek whilst cupping his other one, and left to go to her apartment just down the hall from Tara, Sam, and Quinn's. He smelled her coconut perfume for the rest of the day.

Camille had Chad come pick her up so she didn't have to walk to their dorm alone, especially now that there's a chance a new Ghostface was lingering amongst them. She had ended up wearing a large, faded navy blue crewneck and oversized black sweat shorts. Her hair was still in the same claw clip from earlier that day when Ethan had originally asked her on this date. Her mini Bailey Bow Uggs kept her feet warm alongside her black fuzzy socks.

"Dude," Chad laughed. "He was so fucking scared. I think he's had a crush on you since we all first met."

"Stop it, you're being mean." she laughed too, walking side by side with him. It was cute, and she thought he was too.

"Just don't hurt him, okay? He looks fragile. Like- like if you opened the sunroof on a windy day he would fly right out the car." he replied, the sentence almost not making it out of him before they both doubled over.

"That's terrible and you're going to Hell."

"Okay, whatever. Have fun with your nerd." he said, closing the door behind her as she walked into their dorm, leaving her alone in a room with a nervous Ethan. She let her eyes drag down his lanky frame, taking in what he was wearing. Large, grey sweatpants and a black long sleeve.

His side of the room wasn't all that nerdy, just a few posters here and there, some clothes on the floor - but his bed was kept and his desk was organized.

"I like it in here, Ethan. It's very clean- unusual for a college guy."

"Oh, thanks," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as she took a seat on his bed. "Uh, what movie did you want to watch?" he asked and she was surprised for a split second. She had assumed he had some sort of nerdy action movie picked out, but she liked he was letting her pick.

"Have you ever seen Coraline?" she queried, patting the spot next to her and she slid under the covers. He shook his head, and made a face that led her to explain. "You know, The Other Mother. It's kind of weird, but I love it."

"Then let's watch it. I'm going to go grab the popcorn. Do you, um, want a drink?"

"Sprite if you have it, please?" he sent her a thumbs up, and left the room. Camille pulled out her phone, and texted Mindy.

camimi: omg

im at ethans rn

he asked me out earlier

loml mindy: NO WAY

I didn't think he had the balls

camimi: u knew ?

loml mindy: Yeah

Chad told me he talked to him abt u

I have a professional wingman for a brother

camimi: i think he's cute

smash

loml mindy: Gross

Anyways update me laterrrr

Ethan came back to the bed with one big bowl of popcorn in his arms and the sodas in his hands.

"Pepsi?" she asked, taking the Sprite from him.

"What's wrong with Pepsi?" he debated.

"Um, okay, probably everything. Sprite is so much better!" Camille defended.

"It's basic." he said, and her jaw dropped in cinematic shock.

"I can not believe you just said that."

"Well, fun fact for you, Pepsi and Coke taste the same if you drink Pepsi cold and Coke warm."

"That is the nerdiest thing I've ever heard you say."

Continuing their banter, Ethan grabbed his TV remote, clicking to Prime Video. The two quieted down now that the movie was starting, and he turned off the lights.

"This movie's great, you're gonna love it." she smiled, throwing a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

About an hour into the movie, Camille ended up falling asleep against the curly-headed boy and Ethan found himself blinking and breathing manually. He had never really hung out with a girl alone before, and now he had his arm wrapped around one that was cuddled up against him. Chad knocked on the door, then opened it a few seconds later.

"Hey, bro, how's it g-"

"Shut up!" he whisper-yelled at his roommate.

"Ohh, shit! My man gettin' hoes!"

"Don't call her a hoe, Chad."

"Okay, whatever, my bad. But, see, I told you! You're a snack."

"Go away." Chad held up his hands in defense, nodded once, and shut the door quietly, heading back to his friends' dorm. Soon enough, Ethan fell asleep too.

The next morning, Camille woke up to a bright sunlit room and a light snore coming from beside her. She looked up, and saw Ethan propped up against the headboard, sound asleep. She also followed his arm and found it wrapped around her side as she moved a bit closer to him. She couldn't help but smile to herself. Ethan was cute, and he seemed like a good guy. He was a bit of a nerd, and nerd's don't usually do anything crazier than the occasional all-night study session.

Cami pulled her phone from her shorts pocket, and checked the time. 11:47 AM. She had already missed her first class of the day, so she decided it was best if she just stayed in bed. In hindsight, an 8:00 AM class wasn't the best decision she had ever made.

"Hey, Siri." she whispered. Siri responded with her signature noise, and she flinched. "Siri, be quiet. Call Mindy."

"Calling Mindy." her phone practically yelled back at her.

"I said be quiet!" she screeched in a whisper. The phone rang a couple of times before her best friend picked up.

"Hey, girl, what's up?"

"I'm at Chad and Ethan's right now, and I slept on Ethan."

"Don't you mean you slept with Ethan?"

"No, like, I fell asleep on him. We're cuddling, or whatever."

"AWW!"

"Be quiet! He is asleep!"

"Not for long, I think high-pitched screeching tends to awake people from their slumber."

"You're a dick, I'm hanging up on you.

"Love you!"

Camille threw her phone back down on the navy comforter, and laid her head on Ethan's chest. The peace and quiet ended a few minutes later when the boy beneath her suddenly stirred, and his hands flew to his eyes as he rubbed them.

"Oh, hey, good morning." he stretched his arms behind his head and arched his back with a yawn, causing Camille to sit up.

"Morning. Did you sleep okay?"

"How could I not?" he looked down at her.

"You sure gained a lot of confidence overnight." she smirked.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Is it bad?"

"No," she laughed. "I think it's cute, but you're even cuter when you're shy." Ethan only blushed. He was still his typical shy, nerdy self after all. "Come on, we should go get some coffee."

[youngestrunningleek]

Stuart Little

I just recently read Stuart Little, written in 1945 by E.B. White, so I'll review it here as my first review.

Beware! I will be talking about plot details, including the end. And a big part of the experience for me was that I didn't know where the story would go next.

Overview

    It's about a boy(?) named Stuart Little. It's hard to say much more than that, because there's no central thread. I can pitch Charlotte's Web to you: there is a pig and the barn animals, especially the spider Charlotte, are trying to keep him from getting eaten. This book, though? It's just... about Stuart Little.

    It has a really great opening line: "When Mrs. Frederick C. Little's second son arrived, everybody noticed that he was not much bigger than a mouse." In the first edition, the line is that he "was born". The book isn't very specific about whether he's a mouse, or a boy who just looks like a mouse.

 My Thoughts

I loved it, and I don't know what to make of it. I am glad such a strange book is considered a classic, even if I don't understand why. It's hilariously matter-of-fact, almost deadpan. Yeah, he could walk as soon as he was born. He's in love with a bird. There's an invisible car. Deal with it.

I really, really loved the bits about how Stuart lives. Early chapters explain how he gets clothes, how he gets around, and the challenges of raising a mouse-boy. It's actually a great message. People don't question his different needs, they just accommodate him. I could read an entire book about the challenges of being the size of a mouse in a world built for human-sized people. And I did! And I want more!

There's a great deal of attention paid to his clothes. From the first chapter: "Before he was many days old he was not only looking like a mouse but acting like one, too-- wearing a gray hat and carrying a small cane." Does E. B. White know what a mouse is? Is that the problem? A few sentences later, Mrs. Little makes Stuart "a fine little blue worsted suit with patch pockets in which he could keep his handkerchief, his money, and his keys." At another point he wears "a pepper-and-salt jacket, old striped trousers, a Windsor tie, and spectacles." And the whole book is like that. Stuart is a little gentleman. The world's smallest dandy.

     It kind of reads like E. B. White wasn't editing, at all. Pure 'yes and', no revisions. Or, it's like a group storytelling game, where everybody contributes one sentence at a time.

    After a few chapters of little adventures, he decides to run away from home to find the bird Margalo. And we never see her, or Stuart's family, again.

    There's a non sequitur chapter where he becomes a schoolteacher for a day, and I don't think it relates to anything that comes before or after.

    There's an invisible car, like I mentioned. Unironically, halfway through the book, Stuart's doctor friend gives him a miniature car that can turn invisible. What? That wasn't part of the premise!

    There's also a human girl, the same size as Stuart, in the later part of the book. Where did that come from? She's small like him, but she doesn't look like a mouse.

    It's like the reverse of Chekov's gun. Something new could be introduced at any moment, and something could be dropped at any moment.     To be crystal clear, I enjoy this. I like the unpredictability. And, it must be well-written somehow, because even with how odd it gets, I never lost my suspension of disbelief.     This would be an excellent exercise in storytelling. I'd ask children what they think will happen in the next chapter.     Even the ending is a kind of curveball: a telephone repairman talks for a long time about how great North is, as a direction. And then Stuart keeps driving.      Overall, I liked it, even if I don't know if it's well-written. It seemingly breaks a lot of rules about writing. It's profoundly weird from a storytelling perspective, so I'm glad it's somehow a popular book. I give it a 3/5 overall, and a 4/5 for me, personally. For further reading: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2008/07/21/the-lion-and-the-mouse This article talks about children's books and how Stuart Little was part of a fight over what children's book should be. Anne Carroll Moore is a fascinating historical figure. Sorry, I have no scanner, so here's some pictures of Garth Williams' illustrations.

Stuart is on a branch with the human-shaped girl, Harriet. He's dressed like a human, but he has a tail and a face like a mouse.

In the second, she's watching him swim and his furry body is on display as he looks at her. P.S.: Since my specific focus is on rats, I feel like I should bring up the one major time they're mentioned in the book. During the schoolteacher chapter, Stuart gets very mad at being compared to a rat. He's very distinctly not a rat, and doesn't want to be mistaken for one.

[canon-transgender-virgil]

SANDERS SIDES SPOILERS AHEAD, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

Hey yeah I'm overanalyzing their rooms now that we cANONICALLY KNOW WHAT EACH OF THEIR ROOMS LOOKS LIKE????? (if i miss anything while combing through these picture lmk!)

First up, Patton's room!

Lots of plushies! Lovely touch, not that surprised cuz it's, you know, Patton.

Cat statue! (lamp? I can't tell jdjsjsj)

And a cat poster right above his head!

I can't tell what picture that is on his desk :(

But I can tell that his glasses are on there, as well as a plate of two cookies (love that callback) and... A bible. Specifically the Bible Patton swore his oath on in SvS. Interesting touch...

And lastly, the card Virgil gave him during 12DOC (which I find interesting because, to me at least, this symbolizes that Patton still views Virgil as or believes Virgil to still be his best friend which is, uh... Not quite the case right now).

Also notably, Patton doesn't wear his onesie to sleep here?

Alright, next up is Roman!

Right off the bat, THAT IS A FACE MASK PEOPLE, ROMAN CANONICALLY HAS A SKINCARE ROUTINE ‼️

Next, his katana right next to his bed which I imagine he uses fairly often because if you'll look in the bottom left hand corner, you can see Remus stealing one of Roman's crocheted (knitted?) stars off of his desk

After that is his poster, which says Adventure Is Out There (maybe an Up poster? I can't find the exact one but knowing Roman it's probably that)

And speaking of Disney, I just noticed that he's sleeping in his Beauty and the Beast onesie oh my gosh

I love the amount of Roman toys he has in his room idjshshs

I can't tell what that bottle is right behind the Roman Youtooz, if anyone can, can you let me know?

[EDIT FOR ABOVE: People have told me that the bottle is pillow spray which, yeah, makes sense for Roman jdjdjsjs]

And finally, the bulletin board! Two pictures of himself, one of Leslie Odom Jr., and 3 Post-Its that read (from top to bottom): "TAKE DANCE CLASSES AGAIN", "YOU GOT THIS PAL", and "WWLOJD?" (which I realized far too late means "What Would Leslie Odom Jr. Do?" idjdjsjs)

Alright, Virgil's room now!!

It is. So dark. I had to turn my phone's brightness up to max to even be able to see half of it ksjsjsjsj

First off, Virgil wears a Green Day shirt and Thomas's black jacket to sleep! (If you don't remember, this is the same jacket Thomas wore during parts 1 and 2 of Accepting Anxiety and in Working Through Intrusive Thoughts!)

If you'll look right behind Virgil, there's a laptop open to... A YouTube lyric video. Dude listens to emo music without headphones to go to sleep, oh my God /pos

[EDIT ABOVE: According to Thomas, he's watching a Jack the Ripper conspiracy video, not a lyric video! Still, incredibly fitting for Virgil kdjdjsjs]

Now to the darker parts of the room:

He has a whiteboard that says "[Number (it's actually a pound sign but i don't want this to end up as a hashtag jdjsjsj)] of days since last total disaster", with 5 being the number of days. Does this mean that this video takes place five days after WTIT, or is it just an insignificant number?

I literally can't tell what all is on Virgil's desk so if anyone does please let me know, but what I can tell is that he's got an expo marker (for the whiteboard) and (presumably) melatonin, which (alongside the tossing and turning) I imagine confirms that Virgil has trouble sleeping

[EDIT FOR ABOVE: He also has a spider plush, a book of Grimm's Fairytale, fake candles(?) and Patton's card pinned underneath it! That's fascinating to me and I've taken it to mean that Virgil doesn't want to complete throw away his friendship with Patton but he's nowhere near "buddy buddy" with him anymore]

And finally, Logan!

Look at his blue ass bed and matching pjs and sleep mask I freaking love him

He's got a periodic table poster over his bed!!!

Now let's check out his desk

He has all five plushies with him!!! Everyone else just had theirs but he has all five! (Angst writers come get your food pspspsps)

They're all sitting on a notebook (presumably the one Logan uses to write down when someone says something stupid?) which is on top of the fanfic Roman gave him for Christmas which i freaking love 😭

His solved Rubix cube is sitting on what looks to be a crossword of the day calendar sort of thing?

EMPTY CROFTERS JAR BEHIND EVERYTHING HE CANONICALLY EATS IT IN HIS ROOM

Oh my God that is the 10th Doctor Funko Pop right by the plushies

And his flashcards are under his glasses!

[EDIT FOR ABOVE: The notebook above the script is a Journal 3 notebook from Gravity Falls and he also has a TARDIS behind the plushies and a smart lamp! (Hence the clapping)]

Again, if i missed something someone let me know jdjdhs

[gimmehyuck]

feels like home | n.jm

summary. inspired by nice to have a friend, by taylor swift. that’s it, really.

pairing. jaemin x reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers bc i’m a sucker for that shit, fluff!!! mutual feelings, the usual

word count. 2.2k

warnings. mildly, mildly, suggestive at the very end if you squint really, really, really hard.

a/n: i previously posted this on my other blog, pocketfullofhaechan, before it was deactivated. minor edits/additions.

.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.

"hey, you awake?" jaemin’s whispered voice broke through the silence suddenly that night, rousing you from near sleep. not that the chirping cicadas had let you actually fall asleep.

you rolled over on your side to face him, resting your head on your folded arm. it was dark in the tent, nearing midnight you were sure but it didn’t stop you from seeing the outline of his face as he was laying on his back, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the night sky through the clear plastic roofing. nights like this were your favorites, it had been a tradition you two had started in elementary school. 

it was always the weekend before school started again, you would pitch a tent in the backyard, either his or yours since you were next door neighbors, and just stay out there. sometimes it would be a group thing, with several others joining in on the campfire and outdoors sleeping. 

you’d never forget the time jisung almost tripped into the fire, you barely grabbing his jacket in time to yank him back from getting burnt. he was so grateful to you that he refused to let you sleep in anyone’s tent but his. 

nor the time donghyuck swore he heard a bear in the treeline of your yard, and everyone ended up in your one tent you usually shared with jaemin. even after discovering it was the neighborhood cat, donghyuck wouldn’t hear of it and insisted on sleeping in one space. that was also the year you found out jeno snored the loudest of them all; you were absolutely it would scare away any bear.

this time though, it was just you and jaemin. it was the year before your junior year, and surprisingly enough, your parents trusted you enough to be out there alone. you guessed it was because you had been friends for so long, or that who’s were adults now technically… or probably, they just didn’t care. 

“what’s up?” you asked as you watched him for a moment while he gathered together whatever it was he wanted to say.

“you remember that time in the third grade when you lost your gloves on the bus ride home?” his voice was deeper, as he talked softly, a bit raspy from lack of use for the past couple of hours.

you let out a small laugh in answer, “yeah, you got so upset with me, and then called me, and i quote, ‘the biggest dummy you had ever met, and you knew donghyuck’, but then you ended up giving me one of yours.” 

you watched as he smiled at the memory, a soft laugh sounding deep in his chest, and he continued for you, “and then i held your hand, didn’t i? i was sweet to you.”

“no, and then you held my other hand so it wouldn’t ‘get all blue and fall off’.” you quoted again with a slight mocking tone, pretending to be annoyed at his child-self being the hero but still happy in the memory that solidified your friendship.

when you opened your eyes again, he was looking at you, in a look that was, unbeknownst to you, full of adoration. instead, you leaned away from the sudden stare, “what is it?” you looked over your shoulder dramatically before raising an eyebrow at him.

“nothing,” he said, shaking his head, a genuine smile on his face, “i’m just really glad to have you.”

.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.

you sat on top of his roof during the summer break before your final year of college began where you had both decided to go home for a week to visit your parents before heading back.

you had your knees drawn up to your chest; jaemin was sat a little further back than you leaning back on his hands. you watched the skyline absentmindedly, admiring as the sky turned from orange, to pink, then purples, and he… simply watched you. you felt his foot tap against your side, before he suddenly spoke, breaking the comfortable silence.

“what are you thinking about over there?” he asked playfully, rolling his head to one shoulder. you didn’t answer for a moment, mind jumping from one subject to another.

you wanted to be honest and tell him things like you used to be able to years ago without fear of anything changing.

you wanted to tell him about your fears for the next year.

about your worries for him and his classes.

but most of all, about your feelings that you had yet been able to shake off no matter how hard you tried.

you said none of that, though. 

instead, turning to look over your shoulder at him, you said, “do you remember that time in high school when you almost got into a fight for me?”

his eyes caught yours and his eyebrows drew together. he nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going, “the only time i’ve ever been angry enough to hit someone. why?”

“i was just thinking about how upset i was with you after that.” you shrugged.

“you know, i’ve always wondered why it took you two days to talk to me afterwards. i thought you were mad at me, or that i had scared you, or something.” he grumbled, a small pout on his lips as he recalled the two longest days of radio silence, and the fear that had gripped his heart at the idea of it being permanent.

“no,” a soft smile reaching your eyes as you shook your head, “you could never scare me. i was mostly upset that you could have gotten hurt because of me, and i had to deal with the guilt of that.” his mouth fell open in a huff for a moment before he shrugged.

“those guys were dicks, should have kept their arms to themselves. and besides, there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do for you.” the words flowed from his mouth easily,

as if it didn’t make your heart jump in your throat,

as if it didn’t make your brain screech to a halt,

as if your entire body didn’t freeze at the ease of which he said it. 

you were unsure how to respond, so you waited until everything in you started working properly again. then deciding to be a little bold, you scooted back slightly to sit beside him, and placed your hand on top of his. you were actively avoiding eye contact by looking down at his fingers next to yours, and so you missed how quickly his head whipped to look at you, eyes going wide at the sudden gentle touch you initiated.

his breath caught and he tried to play it off as if he were simply clearing his throat.

“i never said this then, but thank you. i always have been, and always will be grateful to have you in my life.” and then deciding you may have said too much, too soon, or just chickening out again, you brushed it off by scoffing a little and continuing with, “i just hope i never have to have a man defend my honor again.”

he sat up straighter at that comment, bumping his shoulder against yours indignantly. “hey! that offends me!” he said playfully. you noticed with a slight pang in your heart that his eyes were sparkling. “i’m not just any man! i’m the na jaemin, that alone should count for something!” you only rolled your eyes at his antics, not asking him how could he not know that it was the only thing that counted to you? 

.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.°.

jaemin called your name from the other side of the hotel suite you were staying at three times before you finally decided to make your way from the patio where you were sitting to the bedroom where he was. you walked in and leaned against the door frame, crossing your arms over your chest.

“yeah, you summoned me?” you asked.

he was propped up on half the pillows that were on the bed, leaning slightly against the headboard with one arm tucked behind his head.

you couldn’t help but admire him, the loose t-shirt he wore vastly different from the suit and tie he had on the night before at your wedding.

“what are you, beetlejuice?” he asked sarcastically. you smirked at that, and then his phone was suddenly in his hand as he took a quick candid photo of you. you rolled your eyes at his antics, though used to this by now. you leapt on the edge of the bed, jostling him slightly.

you crawled over to sit next to him, touching his wrist so he’d turn his hand to show you the photo. he always knew how to take photos of you that flattered you. it was a little blurry around the edges but he still caught your lips in a half smile.

“aren’t you just breathtaking?” he asked, showing you as he set the picture as his home screen on his phone.

again, you rolled your eyes, pushing him slightly. “shut up, you’re just happy to see me in your shirt.”

“that is… not a lie. but neither is the fact that you are, without a doubt, breathtaking.” he grinned and rolled his neck up to look at you closely.

you huffed jokingly, “what did you need me for, jaem?” your eyes tracked his, as his eyes trailed slowly over your face.

he didn’t respond for a long moment, then finally, “do you remember the night that i first told you i loved you?”

ah, you knew where this was going. but you feigned ignorance for once, and shook your head while snorting. “hardly, care to tell me about how it happened? i don’t think i was there for this moment,” you teased him with a grin.

he put his phone down, and scooted down a little further so he was laying fully on his back. he opened his arms, inviting you inside them to lay with him.

your head rested on his chest comfortably, throwing your arms around his torso in a loose hug. he played with your hair as he began retelling the events of that night, and you angled your face to watch him as he talked, hearing his voice in his chest as he spoke, the timbre soothing you.

“since someone can’t remember a monumental moment in our history, let me tell you what happened.” you rolled your eyes dramatically but nodded anyway.

“I’m listening,” you said softly.

“i remember how you had looked that night at the bar, you looked absolutely beautiful, as always i should add, but there was something about you in the neon light from the bar sign that left me speechless.”

he paused looking down at you, and winking before carrying on, “and it may not sound that romantic to you, but it was to me. you know how they say everyone gets a magical movie moment at least once in their lifetime? but i remember thinking that ever since i’ve met you, it’s been one moment after another. like, i would have been eternally grateful for just your friendship alone, you know? because your kindness always made me want to be a better person, it still does, but when you looked at me that night, i knew in that moment, if i never told you that holding your hand that day in the third grade was the beginning of my feelings for you, that i’d regret it for the rest of my life.”

you feigned a gasp, “then what did you do?”

“well, i took a shot first, because i was scared out of my mind, but then i walked right over to where you had been waiting for me to show up. you had this look of happiness on your face, and i just blurted it out. i think it came off as ‘love with you, i am in’, like i was yoda or something, and it definitely came off as one long word but you knew immediately what i had said.”

“i did?!” you faked a gasp dramatically, “and what did i say next?”

he stopped playing with your hair and said, “then you just got up and left me there at the bar. all by myself. i cried in my beer that night like a sad country song.”

you shot up at that, leaning over him slightly on your elbow, the offense you felt just as teasing as his smile. “that is not what happened. like, at all!”

“it’s not? then tell me,” he leaned up a little, inches from your face, then he smirked as he looked between your eyes to your lips and back. “how did it go next?”

“i specifically remember saying, ‘i fell in love with you first, babe’.” you said in an exaggerated pout. smiling, jaemin brought his hand up to your cheek, then rubbed his thumb against your bottom lip causing you to smile at the gentleness of the touch.

he tugged you closer, sealing the small gap he had created and kissed you, his lips as soft as his thumb was, hands moving to cradle your face. you rested your cheeks in his palms as he pulled away just far enough so could look at you.

“yes, i think i remember you saying that now,” he whispered, eyes on only you. and you could only stare at him in return, mind trailing off to feel thankful for that missing glove all those years ago.

jaemin’s voice brought you back to the present when his thumb rubbed across your check.

“but care to remind me what happened after that?” and the smirk was instant for the both of you.

“better yet,” you said and leaned forward, centimeters from his lips. “i can show you.”

[hwalovs]

A Smuggler and A Jedi 4/?

CHAPTER FOUR: HOPE DIES

Pairing; Luke Skywalker, Reader Warnings; Angst, burn descriptions, comic spoilers, fluff, some tension with Han, trying to explain the mechanics of an X-wing. some more chaos.  Word Count; 9k Note; Officially half way through the series! I’m grateful for all of you who love this story, this is my child who I take most pride in. 

ONE  TWO  THREE  FIVE SIX 

Summary; The murder of their beloved king at the hands of the evil Empire has inspired open revolt on Mon Cala! Thanks to a timely counterattack by Admiral Ackbar as well as the heroics of Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, (Y/n) (L/n), and Han Solo, the Mon Calamari’s powerful fleet now stands ready to fight for peace and justice with the Rebel Alliance. Armed with new ships and new allies, the Rebellion is finally poised to take back the galaxy from the Empire in earnest. But the Rebels also owe their recent victory to Queen Trios of Shu-Torun and her defection to their cause. But Trios may have plans of her own...

THIS IS NOT EDITED

Pulling the yellow jacket tighter around your shoulders, you pinch your nose and lean forward, the droid in front still sitting with its arms crossed.

“Okay,” you huff, turning to Threepio, “Tell them ‘I’ll throw in the droid if I get 10 percent off.’”

Han chokes on a laugh, leaning back in his chair, bringing the empty cup up to his lips to hide his smile. 

“Oh, Madam! You can’t be serious!” Threepio cries, looking between you and Han.

“Oh yeah, of course, she’s joking.”

The cantina has a dark atmosphere, with different droids and creatures littering the area by themselves, nursing a cold drink.

“No Alaphani worth the name would give us 10 percent off just for a droid. Tell them the deal’s good,” Han whispers to you and Threepio, uncrossing his leg and setting the cup back on the metal table. 

“Certainly, sir,” Threepio sounds much happier at not being sold for transponder codes. As he talks to the droid, his voice changes to a different register as he effortlessly translates the sentence.

The Alphani sitting across from you was a sentient droid-type creature, you didn’t know where the beast ended, and the droid began, the switch almost indistinguishable. With small blue eyes that peek out from a thin sliver of gray skin, large blocky teeth, and long skinny fingers, you couldn’t help the involuntary shivers that ran down your spine each time it spoke. It reminded you too much of the droid-creatures from Jedha- except those actually scared you and could potentially kill you if you spoke wrong. 

Chewie makes his way to the table, barking at Han with frantic eyes and waving hands.

“What’s up, Chewie?” Han asks, finger twirling the cup on its rim slowly. Your once hot drink had gone cold after the deal almost took a turn for the worst.

Hans’ face drops, and he turns to give you a look of concern. Threepio twisted his head frantically to look around the cantina.

Sometimes, you really needed to invest in learning shyriiwook.

“Bounty hunters?! Where-”

“Don’t say it so loud!” Han hisses, reaching over you to slam a hand onto Threepio's mouth.

Chewie nods his head lightly over his shoulder, and you have to lean slightly into Hans’ side to see the two bounty hunters that just entered the cantina.

“Oh, maker- why now?” You say softly, turning to Threepio with furrowed eyebrows.

“Tell him good doing business with him, or whatever the equivalent is in alaphani.”

“Okay, let’s get to the Falcon, yeah?” Han pushed away from the table, straightening out his vest and looking down at you. Threepio nods, “certainly, madam.”

Reaching down to your belt, you grab the small leather pouch tied next to your holster, its contents clinking lightly as you set it on the table, opening it and fishing out the required credits. 

When Threepio turns back to you, you expect him to say anything but, “That’s ‘our regurgitated mouth mucus proved easy to mix.’”

Cringing, you provide a strained smile at the creature, grabbing the small device from its hand before standing, clearing your throat as you glance once more at the bounty hunters.

You wait until Threepio is standing before nodding to Han, both of you dashing towards the exit, the other two close behind. There’s a small smile on your lips as you exit the door, unclipping your blaster and pressing your body against the wall next to the door, Han opposite to you with Chewie and Threepio behind him. 

Cocking your blaster, you can hear the faint scatter of feet, and the door swings open, both bounty hunters stumbling out. Holding out your blaster, you rest its barrel against the closest hunter's head, smirking. Han mirroring your actions with the other.

“Hi,” you say lightly, catching the hunters’ eyes flickering to you.

“My droid will look after your weapons,” Han hisses, Threepio wobbling forwards to take the rifles, mumbling under his breath how ‘I would never do this with Artoo- what would he say now?’

The stinging smell of lingering garbage makes your eyes water, and the dark sky doesn't help with navigating your way back to the Falcon, both hunters are left at the cantina’s door, weaponless. The transponder code’s cartridge sits in your pocket, your blaster still in hand as you walk beside Han. 

“Tell Jabba I’m good for it, he’ll get his money! I swear!” Han yells over his shoulder, huffing under his breath as Chewie lowers the entrance ramp.

“It’s getting too risky,” you grumble, hearing Chewie bark from the cockpit. Han waves his hand, looking over the weapons that sit on the small round table in front of the curved couch.

“Once, we’re done here- I’ll pay off Jabba, and you’ll be able to stop worrying.”

“Han- you do realize that I’m wanted now too, right? Being seen with you put my name right next to yours on Jabba’s kill list, whatever stalling we do now, it’s going to come and kick us both in the rear,” you move past him, holstering your blaster and walking into the cockpit, Han hot on your heels.

“You think I don't know that? You didn’t have to come, I didn’t ask you to!”

“I know!” You shout, throwing yourself into your seat, “but I thought it was just a smuggle to Alderaan! I didn’t anticipate being dragged into all this rebel shit, but now I can’t just leave!”

Han rolls his eyes, “you can leave anytime you want- you just don't wanna leave.”

Chewie barks once more, and Han finally throws his hands up in surrender.

“Chewie, stop complaining, we’re not missing the party! Do you really think Leia would let us near the fancy brass, anyway?”

“Speak for yourself,” you grumble, throwing your leg over the armrest of your seat.

“Better we do what we’re good at,” Han sighs, rubbing his forehead, “and I’ve got a contact who’ll pay top credits for that prime collection of fresh transponder codes.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” you say, smirking once more. Reaching into your pocket, you let the device fall into Hans’ waiting hand, his eyes looking it over before nodding once, sitting down in his seat. 

“We’re missing Luke’s show,” your voice is soft, picking at your nails. Han sighs, glancing at Chewie, preparing the Flacon for departure. 

“Oh yeah. Luke’s thing. Yeah, you got me there, I’d have liked to have seen that too.”

Threepio makes his way into the cockpit, sitting himself down next to you and clipping himself in. 

“Did you want to see Luke’s show too, Threepio?”

His head turns to you, “It would’ve been a delight, madam. I’m afraid Artoo will be quite angry with me for missing his big debut on stage.”

“Ugh,” you groan, letting your head fall back, “Tunga’s rubbed off on you too much.”

Closing your eyes, you can feel the Falcon lift into the air, the floor vibrating above the engine. 

“Do you think Luke is freaking out?” You ask, smiling softly. The entire time you were here, you wondered about him, and a small part of you hoped he was wondering about you too. Leia gave you a sad smile before you left, Luke upset that you were tagging along with Han. Why can't you stay? He asked you, blue eyes pleading. Stay, for me- and the show! Han is fine by himself!

The familiar lurch into hyperspace made your eyes flicker open, watching the stars extend slowly. Han leans back in his seat, rubbing his eyes harshly. 

“You look like a lovesick puppy,” you comment, watching his shoulders tense, slowly turning to look at you. 

“I do not, I am not a lovesick puppy.”

There's a brief pause, your quiet laughing filtering through the air.

“If anyone is a lovesick puppy, it's you,” he grumbles, turning back to the control panel. 

For once, you don’t respond, you don't quip back in a snarky remark, or deny the accusation. But the silence slowly eats away at you, consuming the last bit of unacknowledged longing for the blonde.

“Yeah,” you sit up, stretching your back, “I can’t seem to get Leia off my mind.”

Han ignores you but scoffs. Chewie growled out something to Han while turning to the large wall next to him, overlooking the Falcon’s statistics.

“Yeah, Chewie, you never know. Luke’s thing may have been delayed. Maybe we can still watch-”

The Falcon drops out of hyperspace, still a distance away from the Mako-to base. But that isn’t what makes your heart stop, stomach-dropping to your feet. 

It's the two Star Destroyers, accompanied by the biggest Imperial Star ship you’ve ever seen. From your vision on the back, the giant ship had twelve thrusters, wings spanning the size of three to four regular Star Destroyers. 

You almost fall out of your seat when you get up to stand in between Chewie and Han, who had fallen silent at the sight. 

“The show,” Han mutters, eyebrows furrowing. Chewie growls once more, tilting his head. 

“You said it, Chewie.” 

Threepio stands from his seat, trying his best to squeeze in next to you.

“Perhaps this is some manner of wargame, Sir? A Symbolic display for the dignitaries?”

Han scoffs, tossing a glare to the droid, “This ain’t no wargame, goldenrod! This is the most Imperials I’ve ever seen.”

“See if you can signal the base, contact anyone,” you say softly, giving the droid a small smile. 

“See any way in?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at the fleet. Han sighs harshly, shrugging his shoulders as he taps the glass screen of the radar, clicking his tongue. 

“Unless we get in contact with the base, there's no way she can make it through-”

“Oh, Threepio. Am I glad to hear you! Is Han there? (Y/n)? We need to-”

Leia’s voice was rushed over the com in Threepio’s hand, frantic as she speaks your names. 

“We’re here, Leia!” You call, smiling.

“Slow down, Princess. Tell us what's going on-”

“Han! (Y/n)! Trios betrayed us. She disabled all the rebel cruisers just before dispersal.”

Sharing a look with Han, you turn back to look over the Navi-computer, going back over your previous coordinates to see if you were followed or not. The last thing the rebellion needed was a band of bounty hunters or even more Imperial Starships. 

“They’re defenseless, immobile, and can’t launch fighters. We're trying to work out what we can do,” You hear Leia sigh softly, probably glancing at someone by her, “docking doors are sealed, but their proximities still work. If a ship flies at the bay door, it’ll open.”

You almost laugh, but swallow it, turning to call over your shoulder, “Just tell them to fly at the doors!”

“Their comms are also down. We can’t. We need someone to go and tell them.”

Han scoffs again, “wait- are you seriously asking me to go in there by myself, against the whole fleet, and then fly at a sealed docking door that may or may not open?”

“Han, this is the hour of need. If there-”

“Hey!” he snaps, rolling his shoulders as he shifts in his seat, “save the speech for someone who falls for that kind of thing. I’m on it.”

The Star Destroyers were firing at one of the Mon Cala ships now, green lasers hitting the deflector shield. Han flicked off the comm, cursing under his breath.

“This had better impress her.”

“Ha!” you laugh, pointing a finger at him, “you do like her!”

“I never said that!- You know, this isn't the time. Chewie, get to the guns, top turret.”

Chewie barks, getting up from his seat and ruffling your hair as he passes. 

“Okay, (Y/n), get the shields, yeah? Goldy, don't touch anything.”

You sit down in Chewie's seat, smirking at Han as you flick on the shields, grabbing the controls and swinging it into place. 

“You don't have to be mean, Han. Threepio,” you call softly, turning to smile at him, “Buckle up, Han is a terrible pilot.”

“I really don't need your side comments,” he grumbled, glaring at you.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood, you’re terrible at it.”

“Will you just keep the shields up and balanced? If we stay close enough to a Star Destroyer, they’re not going to be able to hit us.”

Hitting the accelerator, he flies close to a Destroyer, pressing down on the turret and fires at the surface.

“We need fighters on us-”

Chewie roars from his spot, voice crackling through the comms, Han smiling as he shifts in his seat once more, pulling up harshly to avoid the highest part of the Star Destroyer. The radar begins beeping, blaring a high-pitched alarm as Tie fighters begin to tail. Cursing, you aim the shield, groaning at the pull the ship gives. 

“Yeah, I see them. Perfect.”

“Remind me why we’re happy we have Tie’s on our ass?”

“If we’ve got fighters, the big guys won't fire. Too much risk in hitting their own ships,” he replies, looking at the radar before steering right and begins flying toward one of the cruisers.

“I hope,” he adds quietly, “So, now we can make a run for the nearest rebel cruiser.”

You can hear the top turret firing, most of the Tie’s in front being shot down as you came closer to one of the cruisers. Chewie barked once more, causing Han to scoff and yank the steering close to him, the ship diving above the tie that was once below you, letting Chewie effectively shoot it down. 

“Kriff! A warning next time!” You yelp, holding onto the arm of the chair as your gut is glued to the floor.

“Oh, you’re fine,” he comments, rolling his shoulders once more.

“That gave us a few seconds before turbolasers open up again.”

Smiling, you glance away from the deflector shield, looking at Han, “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

As you begin to get close enough to the cruiser to land, Han smirks, “the princess better be ri-”

He’s cut off, a blow hitting right below the Falcon’s back thruster, the ship diving nose-first below the Rebel cruiser, the ship rocking violently. Yelping, you spin in Chewie’s chair and look over the control panel, cursing.

“The stabilizers burning!”

“Reset the manual- Gotta pull out-” He strains, trying to gain control of the ship. Your head swims, hands flying out in muscle memory to reset, clenching your eyes shut as the space continued to spin. It wasn’t until the ship finally balanced out that you sighed in relief, Threepio still crying out, “We’re doomed!”

Chewie roars, his voice worried, “Yeah, whoever it was came outta nowhere,” Han calls back, looking over the radar. 

“Who the hell can fly like that?” you say softly, turning the chair back around to scour the radar, trying to pinpoint where the mystery ship was. You could hear Chewie firing, his barks, and roars echoing through the Falcon.

“Whoever he is, he’s good,” Han grumbles, eyes flickering across the control panel, “but this move should lose him.”

Han begins flying erratically, diving around Star Destroyers, but the Tie doesn’t lose sight.

“I do believe he’s still on our tail, sir.”

He scoffs, “just be quiet back there, I’ll handle the flying.”

Another sharp turn, kissing his teeth, “Chewie! Hit him already!”

You don't understand why Chewie roars back, but it makes Han tense. 

“Okay,” Threepio hums, voice tight, “let's not panic.”

“Why would I panic? It’s only Darth Vader.”

“Vader?!” You yelp, turning to stare at him, “We have Vader on our tail and we’re not going to panic?”

“Sir, Madam, I believe by your demeanor you are both somewhat panicked.”

“Are you a med droid now?” Han snaps back, “Just hold on.”

“I’ve been holding on, you idiot.”

“I’m going to bring us in fast. As long as our transponder is singing rebel, those bay doors will open right up,” He says, steering the ship towards the cruiser once more. Chewie’s voice crackles through his headset, and Han scoffs. 

“I know going in at this speed is dangerous. But I’ll tell you what's more dangerous; Being out here with Darth Vader!”

Pushing harder on the accelerator, Han grumbles under his breath words you can’t make out. A red light flickers on the radar, and when you lean down to look at it, your stomach drops. 

“Han, missiles inbound- you might wanna go faster-”

“I know!”

You don't remember the last time Han’s pushed the Falcon this far. The bay doors close in faster than you thought they would, and at the last second, han yells out, pulling up on the joystick to dodge the incoming missiles from Vader. The bottom of the Falcon jolts against the side of the cruiser, alarms blaring as part of the ship was torn.

“Kriff!” You yelp, trying not to fall out of your seat, eyes flickering over the control wall to gauge where the damage was.

“Oh, the poor people,” Threepio sighs, his metal hand on your shoulder. Raising an eyebrow, you turn back and look out into space, jaw-dropping slightly. 

One of the Mon Cala ships were evacuating, and the surrounding Tie’s were taking the opportunity to shoot down any escape pod they came across, the ship going up in flames. It exploded seconds after the hull was hit, some of the escape pods even being consumed by the fire. 

“Yeah. But right now? We’re all poor people,” Han sighs, leaning back in his seat, sweat beading on his forehead. When did it get so hot in here?

“Wait, that could work-”

“Han, please don’t tell me-”

“Chewie!” He yells, “Get down here! You’re never going to hit him. I’ve got an idea.”

You can feel Chewie’s hand press against your shoulder, his body leaning over his chair to look at Han, who was still looking at the ablaze Mon Cala ship.

Threepio lifts a hand, “Sir, I’m unsure what your plan could be. We need to pass Princess Leia’s message to the cruiser, but if we can’t get close enough to land how can-”

“That’s Vader,” Han seethes, “He’s never going to let us get close. But if we can’t land, maybe we can send a messenger? We need someone to tell them the bay doors work and you just need to fly at them,” he turns to look at Threepio, “you up for that?”

Groaning, you slouch in the chair, rubbing your eyes roughly. 

“Of course!” Threepio agrees, his voice loud, “it would be my honor! But I’m not sure how I-”

“Great.” Han quips back, “Get the droid to a pod, Chewie.”

Growling, Chewie lifts Threepio, throwing him over his furry shoulder and walking out of the cockpit, Threepio trying to talk to Han on the way.

“Okay,” you say, sitting up in the seat again when another jolt rocks the ship, the Falcon wouldn’t last much longer if Vader kept firing.

“I’m assuming we need a distraction? There’s no way Threepio’ll make it without being blown to bits.”

Sighing, Han tilts his head to look at the Mon Cala ship, your gut twisting. 

“Not my first choice, but it might be our only one.”

“That’s how we die, you idiot,” you seethe, glaring at him. Shrugging, he looks back at you with a sad smirk. 

“I’ve been blockade running since I got my own ship,” he steers the ship towards the cloud of fire, intimidating and screaming ‘death wish! Do not enter!’ “This isn't any different.”

“This is very different- this isn't the Kessel run!”

Ignoring you, the Falcon flies straight into the cloud. Immediately, the glass was covered with fire, small rocks, and debris hitting against the glass. 

“There’s no way Vader can follow us through this.”

Feeling sweat begin beading on your forehead, you clutch onto the arms of your chair, wincing when a particularly large piece of debris hit the side of the ship. 

Han was speaking softly under his breath, eyebrows scrunched in concentration with his knuckles turning white as he gripped onto the controls. The radar was blaring with different alarms, but the large red outline of Vaders ship was growing further from your path, Han making one last sharp turn before breaking out of the cloud, Vader nowhere to be found. 

“Yes!” Han cries, leaning back in his seat to press onto the comms, smiling lightly.

“Okay, we’ve got a little distance on Vader. Now see if we can use it. Ready, Chewie?”

Chewie roars back over the comms, Threepio’s voice quiet in the background. 

“If he finds an airlock, goldenrod will be able to tell ‘em about the doors.”

A small light on the panel began blinking, Han reaching forwards to hover a finger over it, “Okay, on my mark. Three, two, one and-” he presses down, and the Falcon rumbles for a moment before the airlock hisses, releasing the escape pod towards the Rebel cruiser. 

You hoped it didn’t take long for Threepio to get inside and relay over the information. Han continued to tilt his head to look at the cruiser, and Chewie managed to lean between the both of you, not shooing you from his seat but instead ruffling your hair in a sort of comfort when the hull of the Falcon once again groaned under the blaster shots Vader delt. 

It wasn’t until the first X-wing left the bay doors that you slouched and sighed in relief. You hoped it was Luke that flew out first, he was always the bravest out of your group. Always volunteering to go first when something dangerous came up, or when it came to heading out into battle against the Empire. 

There's more groaning and hissing from the Falcon, and the control panel begins you begin sparking, the engines going into overdrive. Smoke begins to seep into the cockpit, and you get up to allow Chewie to sit and begin tending to the Falcon. Flying behind the fleet of X-wings, Han settles the Falcon into the middle of the group. 

Cursing, Han grabs the headset, “Falcon to all of,” he pauses, glancing at Chewie who grumbles lightly, Han’s eyebrows shooting up, “‘Rogue squadron’? Really?” Han scoffs, looking back at you when you lightly slap his shoulder, “Listen, you can’t stay out here. Nuzzle up against the destroyers. Take it from a smuggler- this always works.”

Chewie barks, motioning around the control panel, Han covers the mic of the headset, leaning in close to the Wookiee, “Hey- I figure they don’t need to know the odds, either.”

“That's just false hope, Han,” you grumble, watching the control panel begin smoking. He shrugs, more flashing lights flickering in front of him. 

“Any hope is worth it. At least, that’s what the princess would say.”

“Han,” Luke’s voice breaks out over the coms, your chest squeezing, “the Falcon barely looks like it’s in one piece, what happened?”

Han chuckles, “Darth Vader happened. Keep your eyes open. He’s out there somewhere.”

“Fire from the capital ships is dropping off. Just the ties to worry about. Nice work, Flacon.” Wedge’s voice pipes up.

Luke laughs, “Yeah, nice work, Admiral Solo.”

Laughing, you slap his shoulder again, seeing him tense. 

“Make another joke like that, kid, and next time I won't come back to bail you out.”

More X-wings deviate from the group to shoot down more ties, the destroyer you were hugging was being shot at with missiles, and most of the on-deck turrets going up in flames. 

“What’s next?” 

“We need to spread the word to the fleet that they can still launch their fighters. Then we can have some company out here.”

Wedge’s voice cuts back in, “the entire fleet? Their comms are down and we can’t land on them all, they’ll pick us off if we split up.”

There's a pause, Luke humming lowly, “Maybe we don’t have to.”

Hearing a loud hissing from the main hull, you leave the cockpit in quick steps to look around, seeing thick black smoke coming in front of the back of the ship, near the escape pods. The ceiling was black, flames licking into the hallway as the wires sparked.

“Uh- Han?!” You yell, not knowing what to do at the moment. 

“Yeah?”

“We have a problem back here! We need to land the Falcon, now!”

The ship rocked violently, your feet almost sliding from under you, almost sending you straight under the fire. Turning, you rush back to the cockpit, smoke almost completely filling the tight space. 

“She hasn’t looked like this since the Kessel run,” Han grumbles, rubbing a hand on the controls, “hold together, baby, just a little longer.”

“Han, I don't think the baby has a little longer.”

Beginning to fly closer to the cruiser, you leave the cockpit once more to survey the rest of the ship, pinpointing the damages for when you inevitably had to repair her. That was when the ship rocked again, violently. It threw you off of your feet, side slamming into the wall, right into sparking wires. It burned through your tunic, pressing into your skin. Crying out, you push yourself away from the wires, the ship continuing the rock until you were flat against the roof, hearing Han and Chewie arguing from the cockpit.

Feeling your side throbbing, you try and touch the wound, but when you actually do, you pull away from your hand harshly at the stinging sensation that seemed to bite down into your muscles. 

You don’t know when the Falcon came to a complete halt, but you do remember Han lifting you from the ground while asking a bunch of questions, his hands holding your face while Chewie assessed your side. 

“I’m fine!” You cry out, pushing them both away. Han limps when he manages to pull himself out of the Falcon, Chewie helping you out behind him. The pain flares up your side, but you push it to the back of your mind, instead of focusing on the people that run around the hanger, a few x-wings left behind. 

“Get me anything with wings! I gotta get back out there,” Han says, his voice wavering. 

“Han- wait,” you say, following him down the side of the Falcon- or the bottom since the entire ship was laying upside down. 

He doesn’t reply, rushing towards the hanger’s exit and into the room with flight suits. He picks out one of the bright orange jumpsuits, trying his best to put it on over his tunic and pants. Looking at the array of suits, you pick one out that would seem to fit. Wincing when you outstretched your arm, skin pulling against your burn. 

“What are you doing?”

Han’s looking at you with furrowed eyebrows and tight shoulders. In his hand is his vest, scrunched up as his knuckles turn white. 

“You don’t think you’re going out there alone, right?” You say, pushing your legs through the scratchy fabric. Scoffing, he reaches out to grab your arm, “No, you’re going to the med-wing, you think I’m gonna let you go out there with, what, second-degree burns on your side?”

“I don’t think it’s your decision if I’m allowed to fly or not,” you hiss, pulling the fabric over your shoulders, zipping up the front. The white vest was next, pulling it on your shoulders and reaching to grab the small black computer that latched to the front. 

“I’m older than you!”

“That doesn't mean jack-shit! Can we go now? We’re losing time,” you push past him, walking back to the hanger and to one of the only X-wings left. 

“(Y/n)!” Han yells, jogging to catch up to you. Shaking your head, you climb the ladder and settle down in the pilot's seat. Chewie roars, hand settling on the nose of the ship. Han is on the ladder behind you, staring at you as you fumble slightly with the helmet. 

“I don’t wanna hear it! Luke needs us,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “the fleet needs us, now will you please drop this until we get back? Feel free to lecture me then.”

Sighing, he brings a hand up to rub his eyes, glaring at you before descending the ladder, passing by a frantic Chewie to get into his own X-wing. 

“I know! I know!”

The cockpit of the X-wing was claustrophobic. The joystick is positioned right between your knees, with the radar in the middle of the control panel. There were power diverters to the weapons, engines, and shields. With the hyperspace jump charge, the radar, aim assist, and engine restart, you found yourself overwhelmed. 

Reaching forwards, you flip the small line of switches at the top of the panel, the engine coming to life, the comm inside your helmet coming to life, the radar showing static before the light green screen becomes clear. 

Grabbing the joystick, you pull lightly against it, feeling the ship rise, the engine humming. The wings haven't expanded yet, the small switch still idle in front of you. 

“Luke,” Han’s voice breaks into your helmet. It sounds like he’s right next to you, filling your helmet loudly. “The Falcon is fried. We’re in an X-wing. Coming out now.” 

There is another roar from the hanger, and you smile at how worried Chewie sounds. 

“Yeah, Chewie. Don’t worry. We’ll be back. I’ve gone through worse scrapes than this.”

There's a moment of silence, smiling at Han when his X-wing hovers beside yours, before Luke’s voice floods your helmet, your heart lurching. 

“Good to have you, Han- wait, did you say ‘we’?”

Another pause, and you smirk, “Hi there, blondie, miss me?”

“So, can you fly just about everything?” Wedge cuts in, a smile in his voice. You don't see it, but Luke’s smiling, cheeks pink at the nickname you dubbed him a while ago. 

“Careful, Wedge, she’ll outfly you any day,” Han teases, looking over at you. 

Shaking your head, you flip the switch for the wings, feeling the vibration crawl through your body as the wings separate into two, more systems turning on for the dog fight you were about to fly into. 

When you fly out onto the battlefield, your radar immediately begins to blink with enemy bogies, Tie, and Y-wings flying all around you. X-wings and Y-wings defend the remaining Mon Cala fleet ships that have failing shields. 

You manage to stay close to Han when you come across Luke’s ship, little R2’s head spinning at the sight of both of you. You aren’t able to count the amount of Tie’s you’ve shot down. The X-wing under your hands doesn’t seem to want to cooperate, but then you remember that no X-wing can be tamed. The joystick fights against you but never disobeys. The blaster fire you send towards Tie’s sometimes miss, but after cursing and fixing your aim, you can shoot them down. 

“Luke!” Han’s voice strains, “A lucky pilot slipped past me. He’s coming your way.”

“Oh no,” You muse, flying back into formation next to Han, “A pilot getting past you?”

You can see the Tie on the radar, flying erratically to miss the remains of Han’s blaster fire. 

“Don’t worry, Han. I’m on them!”

There's a moment of stillness, you and Han watching as Luke catches up to them, but hesitates. The Tie doesn't evade the targeting system Luke uses, and it doesn’t try to get behind any of you to retaliate fire. 

“This feels wrong. Artoo, are the scanners picking up anything strange about it? No answer? Great.”

“Maybe they’re shy,” you joke, Han swallowing his laugh.

“You know, Luke. Put aside the fact they’re not shooting at us. They’re not even flying like an academy-trained pilot.” There's another Tie ahead of it, and it doesn't hesitate in shooting it down. Not firing at you, but one of its own? That's unheard of for the Empire unless they suddenly decided halfway into their mission to join the rebellion. 

“I don't think Tie pilots do that,” You say, keeping an eye on your radar for any Tie that might come in behind you. 

“Whoever it is, they’re on our side, I just know it. Rogue squadron! Form up on me and protect this Tie fighter. Wherever it's going? We get them there.”

“This is potentially a bad idea, what if they’re just trying to trick us?” You try and reason, but Luke had already made up his mind, and you knew that you couldn’t change it. 

“I just have a feeling, just trust me, please.”

The Tie changes course. Instead of flying out into dead space, it turns, flying straight towards a Mon Cala ship. 

“(Y/n)! Han! I need help, I think it's trying to land- but the bay doors won't open without a rebel transponder. We need to keep the doors open. Form up behind the Tie, tightly.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you form up next to Han, following behind Luke and the Tie straight towards the Ship. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.”

Smiling, you check the radar again, “If we don't keep it open, that tie’ll just ram straight into the doors.”

“And this will have been a whole lot of effort for nothing,” Han grumbled. When you check the radar again, you almost shout, “Luke! Look out! They’re above!”

“I have to stay on target!”

You don't break formation, watching the Tie from above move into battle formations, shooting at your group. You want to defend Luke, to defend Han, but you stay in place, following behind the Tie. 

A blaster shot manages to hit the back of Lukes’ ship, almost taking out R2, but before they could take any other shots, the bay doors begin to open. The Tie’s immediately back off, probably thinking more X-wings were going to emerge and take them all out. The Tie crashes unceremoniously in the hanger, parts of the wings breaking off. The top hatch opens and Leia’s form pops out quickly, holding up something small in her hand. 

Landing between Han and Luke, you ignore the flaring pain in your side and rush to the burning X-wing, R2 whistling and beeping from his spot. The canopy opens, and Luke slides off his helmet with pink cheeks and furrowed brows. 

“Luke!” You yell, hauling yourself up the side to grab at his arms, hands running over the orange jumpsuit to find any injuries. When your hands finally rest on his face, you let your lips downturn into a frown, “you okay? Nothing hurt?”

“I- big shock, but I’ll be fine,” his voice soft, until his eyes flicker to Leia, his attention directed away from you.

“Leia! It was you?! How did you get over to the huge ship-”

“The executor,” she interrupts, voice closer. When you climb down from the ship, you push past a flabbergasted Han, wrapping the princess in a hug. 

“Thanks for not shooting me,” she says, pulling away, letting her arm rest around your waist. You ignore the stinging pain, opting for a wince that you hide in her shoulder. 

“Yeah, lucky Luke talked me out of it. Another few seconds and I would’ve blaster you,” Han throws an arm around Luke, who smacks it away with a small smile. 

“Oh stop it, I’m just glad you made it.”

When looking over her shoulder, you spot Threepio, sporting only the upper half of his body. 

“Threepio! Glad you made it.”

“Hello, Madam. I made it, but at the expense of my legs. Thankfully, master Meorti helped stop my wires from sparking.”

Meorti, who was sitting at the terminal, was waving her hand to your group, beckoning you all over. Leia is the first one over, watching over Meorti’s shoulder as she slides in the small chip Leia gave her. With Han at your side, Luke managed to peer over your shoulder at the computer screen, his hand on your lower back so he didn’t startle you. 

“All Systems operational,” Meorti says, smiling. 

Leia turns, wrapping her arms around Han, smiling brightly at him. You can feel Lukes’ arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you lightly into the air before setting you down. Your side burns. The pain seemed to be cranked up tenfold, throbbing down your hip and up into your shoulder. Luke’s hug made you think of it again, hot tears fill your eyes, and you just hope the others think it's from happiness. 

The ship lurches into hyperspace, but you don't notice, not like you do when in the Falcon. You’re too busy trying to swallow the pain, turning and grabbing onto Han’s arm. You wished Chewie was here, he would carry you to the med bay, maybe ruffle your hair while you get a bacta treatment. 

When you grab onto Hans’ arm, he drops the once happy smile and grips your shoulders, speaking to you softly, like you’re a kid that just got stung by a bee.

“Hey- hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure, but he can see through you, he always could. 

“We have to get you-”

“No, Han, please. I’m fine.”

Leia and Luke disappeared somewhere, their bright smiles gone, giving you no distraction. Han was still talking lowly to you, his voice barely managing to cut over the loud celebration of everyone since jumping to hyperspace. 

“This isn’t like that blaster graze- you’re seriously hurt,” he says, hands lifting your face to force you to look at him. 

“What are you,” you smirk, “my father?”

“Don’t try to change the subject-”

“Han! (Y/n)!” Leia calls, waving from the small crowd that was gathered. Luke was behind her but was talking to the rest of the remaining pilots. When she finally makes it back over to you both, she has a strained smile and worried eyes. 

“General Dodonna gave us the okay on a counterattack to get the rest of the fleet out- we have some ships to take so we can relay the information, but it’ll be dangerous.”

“Count me in, what's the plan?” Han’s full attention was back on Leia, but his arm still grasped onto your bicep, keeping you in place. 

“You’ll lead the transports to the fleet, and General Dodonna will create a distraction so you can safely pass through hyperspace. Rogue squadron will help defend the ships, you’ll lead. It’s the best we can come up with, with how low our resources are right now-”

“No, its doable,” you cut in, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing the mission to the forefront of your mind. 

She looks at you then, eyes flickering across your orange suit before her lips thin into a line, eyebrows furrowing. 

“You got hurt, didn’t you?”

Han almost laughs, “glad you noticed!”

“I’m fine,” defending yourself, you try to smack away his arm, but his grip tightens. 

“You can stay in the transport with me and Luke, I don’t think you should be flying.”

“I was literally just flying, this is nonsense, you both sound like my parents,” you grumble, almost throwing your hands up in surrender when Luke appears at Hans’ side, eyebrows furrowed.

“Who shouldn’t be flying?”

“Your girl here has a burnt side-”

“(Y/n)’s hurt? When did she get hurt?”

“Like I was saying, she refuses to get medical-”

“Shouldn’t we take her to the medwing?”

“Will you let me finish?!” Han hisses, glaring at the blonde. “I won't let her get back in an X-wing, so she either stays here or goes with you two.”

“Will you stop talking like I’m not here?” Yanking your arm away from Han, you rub at the skin, narrowing your eyes at the three. “I’m fine to fly, this isn’t that bad. But if it makes you all shut up, then I’ll stay with Luke and Leia.”

You didn’t fight it when you were dragged into the small transport Luke and Leia would be flying. But you do grab Han harshly by the sleeve, pulling him down to glare at him. 

“I swear to the maker, Han, if you die or do some funky flying shit- I’ll literally kill you.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to kill me if I’m already dead,” he snarks, smiling. 

“I’ll do some shit with the force and bring you back, just to kill you again.”

Luke laughs lightly from his seat, turning his upper body, “That's not how the Force works!” 

“Tough shit, Skywalker!” You retort, pushing Han away harshly before narrowing your eyes at him, “I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't worry about me.”

By the time the transports made it into the air, you were slowly dozing off in the back, legs outstretched in front of you while succumbing to the throbbing pain in your side. 

You knew Han was leading the pack, and that your transport was towards the back, but you kept your eyes closed, silently hoping that Han wouldn’t do anything stupid and that Leia and Luke would be safe pilots.

When dropping out of hyperspace, you groan lightly at the jolt, Hans's voice loudly crackles over the speakers.

“Han to Rogue Squadron. These little transports are defenseless. Form up on each one, and escort them to the cruisers.” Artoo beeped, and Luke sighed, “Be nice to Han! This is just one mission. I’ll be back flying with you soon.”

Leia shifted in her seat, hands gripping the controls, “I thought Threepio was the neurotic one, Luke.”

Smiling, you finally sit up, stretching your arms, “they equal each other out, I thought you knew.”

She chuckles, sarcasm dripping from her lips as she glances back, her eyebrows raised, “You’re constantly around Luke, of course, you knew.”

From your position on the floor, you can see the red and green lasers crisscrossing over each other, all trying to land a hit on enemy fighters. Amidst it, was the fleet's main ship, shields down and taking on fire. 

“Leia to Mako-Ta base. Can you hear me, Mon Mothma?”

There is a pause, before her scarily calm voice breaks through, “I hear you, Leia. What news?”

Brown eyes flicker back to watch the fleet, and Lukes’ flicker down to the radar, narrowing at the green screen, “Get all ambassadors ready to board, there’s enough room on here to save them all. We’re coming in to dock.”

“Woah,” you whistle, “he-”

“Look out!” Luke shouts, diving the transport harshly to the side, causing your body to almost roll across the space.

“There’s a Tie fighter coming right at-” Luke cuts himself off, and Leia's smile tells you what you need to know. 

“Nice shooting, Han,” she says.

“Nice flying, princess.”

“Oh, god,” you groan, pushing yourself off of the floor to lean in between their seats, “please don't flirt in front of me, it's sickening.”

The large bay doors open in front of your transport, and Leia manages to land softly, the ambassadors already filing into the room, Mon Mothma leading. 

Reaching forwards, you go to open the ramp, but Luke moves to do the same, your hands bumping just as you reach it. 

“Sorry-” he says softly, briefly glancing up at you before jumping out of his seat, hand brushing through his hair as he retreats out and into the hanger, greeting Mon Mothma first. 

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask, looking over at Leia, who had a small smile on her face. 

“What, you don't know?”

Your eyebrows furrow, “know what?”

“Maker,” she groans, standing from her seat, “you’re both helpless.”

When her figure retreats down the ramp, you pause for a few seconds, repeating what she said over and over. 

“Helpless?” you scoff, grumbling under your breath as you finally leave the transport, smiling softly at Mon Mothma, red hair perfectly styled, with her matching red lipstick free of any smudges. Even in a battle zone, Mon Mothma is calm and content. 

The Ambassadors behind her seem the complete opposite, all oozing with fear and anxiety. So, you turn and lightly place your hand on one of their shoulders, nudging them to start boarding the transport. 

“If the ambassadors can escape, we can keep the rebellion alive. This is absolutely crucial,” Mon Mothma sighs, her hands extending towards Leia, who stood tall.

“As is saving you, Mon. Get aboard, the ships are all about to go into hyperspace.”

Smiling, Luke rests one foot on the ramp, leaning his head down to speak into the Comm still attached to his flight suit, “you hear that, Han? Get ready to jump.”

But he doesn’t respond.

“Han? Can you hear me?” Luke tries again, shoulders tensing. Your smile drops, standing close to the blonde. It felt like a lifetime before Han finally responded, but there was static underneath his voice, which already sounded wrong.

“Yeah, I’m here. Engine’s gone -- failing. Artoo i-- giving it his best shot, -- nothing is working. Get --ut of here, kid. Make sure the Princess-- -ows what a brave guy I am, right? You-” His voice finally breaks off, static left in his place. Your body goes numb, the only resemblance of life left is the dull thrum of pain. 

“He’s floating out there,” Leia says softly, her voice tight. Your lungs refuse to intake air, head fuzzy at the thought of Han free-floating, attached to nothing, with no one but a droid he doesn’t even like that much.

You don’t notice, but your feet are already moving, lips forming words you don’t think about, “I’m going back for him.”

“No-” Luke strains, grabbing your hand tightly, pulling you back.

“I can’t leave him out there! There has to be something-”

Leia snaps her fingers, “wait, on Jedha, Han had an Idea. This is on a different scale, but if we can find a ship-”

Mon Mothma raises her hands, lips thin as she addresses your small group, “the main transport is ready to leave, you need to board.”

A sick feeling pools in your gut, and you almost sneer at her, “I’m not leaving him.”

Luke’s hand loosens, but he doesn’t let go. His thumb rubbed over your knuckles almost absentmindedly. 

“Just go, Mon.” Leia rushes, “We have to try and save Han.”

The older smiles softly, “be careful.” She gestures behind you all. When you turn, you almost laugh at the large docking ship, already pulling Luke along to climb aboard. Leia boards last, and Threepio already talking about the survivability of dead space in her arms. 

You manage to push Luke out of the pilot's seat, pausing to assess the controls before turning the large ship on, getting it off the ground, and glancing to the smaller transport before opening the hanger doors, flying out into the battle once more.

Hitting the accelerator, Leia and Luke both curse as their hands fly out to find purchase on anything around them. Finally spotting Hans’ free-floating X-wing, your hands find purchase on the magnetic ship clip’s button, and fumble to turn on the comms.

“Han, Brace!”

You press down onto the button, and when your ship flies over his, the magnet connects with the back of the X-wing, towing him along. Ahead, there were incoming Tie’s.

“Retracting the line now,” you grumble, glaring at the radar, multiple bogies appearing on the edges. The ship was getting heavy fire to the back, and you can hear Leia fight to stand up again, “It's getting rough, we need to jump!”

“Hyperspace, hyperspace,” you mumble, eyes flickering all over the control panel before finding the lever, a small blue bar on the side already alight and ready for the jump. Grabbing the lever, you yank it down hard, feeling the engines humming before the jolt to hyperspace sends the two behind you to the ground again, Threepio crying out as he fell from his chair. 

The system's diagnostic appears on a small screen near the radar, with red flashing lights and yellow caution signs already blinking. You curse under your breath, “engines are fried. We won't be going much further.” Blindly waving at the two still recovering from the ground, “find me a moon!”

You finally find solace on a small, deserted, and rocky moon, Corosi 7. Sitting beside Han, with your feet resting across his lap, you finally feel some kind of relief. With Luke and Leia sitting on Hans’ other side. Leia was hard at work, trying to forge a solid communication with eh rebellion.

“Hey!” she says, “We’ve got a transmission from Mothma.”

Taking your feet from Hans’ lap, you both lean into the small hologram of Mon Mothma, a deep frown on her face. 

“I have only moments. We all must disperse. We are in a more perilous situation than ever.”

Han scoffs, “Then get a move on. Tell us where Ackbar is so I can get back to Chewie and the Falcon.”

The hologram glimmers, her hands resting at her sides, “If I knew, I couldn't broadcast it. And right now? I simply don't know. Total secrecy was the point of the dispersal.”

“I’m sorry, Mon,” Leia sighs, “We failed. It’s all our fault.”

“It is not the time for apologies. We have more important business. Leia Organa: You are now a general. Luke Skywalker: You are now a commander. (Y/n) (L/n): You are now a Colonel. Han Solo: You are now a Colonel.”

“We’re being promoted?” You ask, a choked laugh breaking out at the end, gaze breaking from the chancellor to look at the others. She doesn’t mind, but she directs her gaze to you.

“The rebellion command has been decimated. Every candidate of quality needs to step forward.”

Han steps towards her, hand waving, “Hey, Mothy. I’m not going to be a colonel in any organization.”

“I understand. But it doesn’t matter if you take the position, Solo. You are a leader, rank or not.”

His hand moves to cover his mouth, speaking through it, “you don’t know what you’re talking about, lady.”

“So,” you ask softly, hand grabbing softly at Leia’s arm, “what are we supposed to do now?”

“Leia and Luke are your leaders. They get to make that decision now. Disperse. Hide. Organize. Strike. We must find our way to one another. We must find new ways to hurt the Empire,” she smiles then, eyebrows raising as she tilts her head lightly, “Good luck.”

When her hologram flickers off, you finally slouch back into your chair, rubbing harshly at your eyes. Your side still hurt, and you knew that if you didn’t have it looked at soon, it would only get worse. 

“How can we find Chewie and the Falcon?” Luke asks softly, leaning against the side of your chair, crossing his arms as he stares at the ground. Leia shrugs, slouching into the chair next to you while Han walked off, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I’m not sure we could even get there if we knew. This ship isn’t going much farther. How are we going to get anywhere?”

You can hear shuffling, until Han hums lowly, spinning around with the small chip you managed to buy before all of the chaos. 

“If we can get one more jump out of this pile of scrap, I may have an idea.”

Nar Shaddaa was the last place you expected to go, but when seeing the all too familiar ship barely out of sight, you put the puzzle piece together. You, Luke, and Han all took off the bright orange flight suits, and Leia managed to wrangle you into the cramped onboard med bay to wrap your side. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she continuously asked if you were okay when putting on the soaked bacta patched, thoroughly covering the wound before wrapping it in bright white gauze. 

Now, you walked beside Luke down the hanger bay, yellow dust clouding over the ground as Han led the group into one of the more remote walkways, Sana waiting patiently in her green cloak and tan leather gloves. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I got dragged into the thing to end all things. Bounty hunters jumping us were the last of our problems.” Han reaches around his belt, unclasping the leather pouch and pulling out the small silver chip, “here’s the data I picked up from the Ring of Kafrene for you.”

Sana pulled out her own leather pouch, handing it over, “and here’s your fee.”

You can’t see Hans’ look. But from the way Sana’s small smile drops from her face, eyebrow-raising with a mischievous glint in her eye, you only sigh. 

“Wait, I know that look. What do you want, Solo?”

R2 wheels in behind Luke, Threepio strapped to his back as he complained about not being able to see anything, you feel Luke's hand lightly touch your lower back, “is this a good idea?” He asks softly, leaning in close to your ear. 

“I trust Sana, she wouldn’t turn us in.”

“If you’re in a smuggling mood, we’ve got some precious cargo that needs transporting,” Han’s voice is back to a confident, cocky, tone. One hand grabs his belt while leaning his weight onto one foot, “namely, us. We’ve had Imperial complications,” he trails off, waving his hand around. 

Sana, already smiling, closes her eyes as she shakes her head. Taking a step back to face her ship again, “I can't believe I’m this soft. Get aboard.”

You didn’t know where Sana was planning to go to hide your group, but you trusted her enough to keep you safe. While sitting in the cargo hold of her ship, Han and Leia are already in the cockpit talking with Sana about coordinates and flight paths, you stayed with Luke. Sitting by his side, you found yourself more tired than before. The blonde had already fallen asleep, arms crossed while his head rested on your shoulder, lightly snoring as his foot tapped against yours.

You knew that you would stick by his side, and keep him safe, already coming to terms with the fact that you would cross the galaxy if he called for you. Sure, you’d do the same for Han and Leia any day, or night. But with Luke, it felt different. 

You just hoped he would do the same for you. 

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