#as much as i enjoy keeping up with everyone and everything

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

That’s Not What Friends Do (part 2)

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: none, this is so short I’m so sorry I just don’t have the motivation to finish this ugh..

part 1

As soon as the Brazilian GP was over, you were overcome with guilt for not being there for Lando. You already knew how it would look like after an unsuccessful race, he would shift all the blame to himself and that failure would eat him up for days.

You couldn't help but wonder if anything would have been different if you had gone to Brazil with him. Probably not, but at least you could have given him the comfort he so desperately needed right then and there. And that's why as soon as he returned home, you immediately found yourself knocking on the door of his apartment in Monaco.

"Hey, Lan" You gave him a soft smile looking straight into his eyes when he opened the door.

He smiled weakly back at you, saying nothing. He didn't even need to say anything because you could see the sadness in his sleepless eyes, so you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight and comforting hug.

"What took you so long?" He whispered as he buried his head in your neck, holding his arms tightly around your waist.

"I'm sorry, I came as soon as I could" You said gently caressing the back of his head.

The evening went by with you trying to talk to him about it, but he wasn't in the mood for it. He just wanted to take his mind off what was, for him, a tough defeat and enjoy your company, so you didn't push it.

You ordered food, had dinner, and then turned on a movie. Everyone was on their own end of the couch, Lando was lying on the elongated part, and you were sitting a little further away from him.

As the movie went on, you kept adjusting your position because it became uncomfortable for you to keep sitting.

"What's wrong?" Lando asked when you let out a deep sigh. "Are you getting bored with the movie?"

"No, but my back is starting to hurt." You stretch as you say.

"Come here" He extends his arm, signaling you to come lie down next to him.

"It's okay, don't worry" You want to. So much. But you know you shouldn't.

"Come" He insists.

You sigh, but move over to him anyway, resting your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. The movie continues, but Lando completely shifts his focus from the movie to you. Lucky for him, you don't see his gaze drop down to you as you lie curled up next to him, but you definitely feel his fingers gently playing with your hair. You just hope that the butterflies you feel in your stomach don't jump out and give you away.

"Are you okay, Lan?" You ask looking up at him.

He smiles at you and places his hand on your cheek. "I'm better now"

You blush at his gesture, thinking to yourself this is not what friends do. Lando was almost certain he was going to kiss you tonight. This was the perfect opportunity with you on him like this, with you pressed tightly against him and in his arms. Everything was leading to that.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be with you for the weekend. I was really busy finishing up the project I'd been working on."

"Were you really?" He asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Of course I was. I don't understand why do you think I would lie to you?”

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Maybe you wanted to be with your date that you still haven't told me about." The butterflies in your stomach fly away as soon as he mentions the date.

At that very moment, so late at night, your phone, which was next to you on the couch, rang and the screen displayed Charles' name and surname and seeing that, Lando's heart dropped.

"Charles Leclerc? You're fucking Charles Leclerc?"

@tvdtw4ever @gulphulp @harrysdimple05 @444-leqz @htpssgavi @honethatty12 @l-vroom4 @enjoythebutterflies3 @charlesgirl16 @scopeiguess @dontsupressthejess

[thevulturesquadron]

I have to say, hard agree with the original post and this addition. I love, love, love Veilguard and it turned to be my comfort game and it will be for a long time, but there are some things I had to wrestle with, especially on the first playthrough.

I fell in love with Rook and with the companions. I just couldn't shake the feeling that taken as it is, without the layers of meta and all the discussions, and especially when it comes to the companions, the game seems to say "Rook is also here".

You can look and point at very specific scenes or lines that contradict that, but they feel like a telling, not a showing of something. I liked the lines Rook was shouting during the Weisshaupt mission. They are the one bullishly moving forward, half-baked plan and pessimistic party in tow. You get to see their character and what, presumably, makes them be important to the team and assume a leadership position. I like that because it shines a light on them and helps build up the character a little. The main story beats are so good, like when you fight the two dragons, the way Rook just pushes through and doesn’t let the gods win - it’s superb! But it also leads to a feeling that the main story moments are disjointed from the meaty parts that are supposed to tie everything together. There should've been more scenes, more opportunities for Rook to stand up and show *why* people choose them, choose listening to them.

It's hammered over and over how they are the one keeping everyone together, and are responsible for keeping them all afloat. But I have to be honest, there is a lot of dialogue that left me feeling like the therapist of the group. Supporting the companions and helping them is fine, I am here for that. But it's weird when that feels like Rook's only input for a good chunk of their interactions.

I hate poking at a game that I still really really like when there's so much bad faith criticism floating about. At the same time, I still think it's good to talk about some of the stuff that didn't work. It’s funny, since BG3 was brought up in a very good argument: I would replay Veilguard a million times over BG3. Both games I enjoy and love, but Veilguard will always feel, to me, more personal, more in-depth, if you will, when it comes to the characters, the lore, the story. It’s also why I care more about it, enough to be vocal about the things I wish we could have had more of, or that could have been done better.

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[itsnesss]

heyy, could you write a jun-ho smut with a jealous reader (I didn't think of any specific situation), I'm sorry, english is not my first language 😭😭

I love your writing so much!!!

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you feel insecure and jealous during a dinner with jun-ho, especially when another woman approaches him. after an intense emotional moment, jun-ho reassures you in the restaurant bathroom. the scene ends with jun-ho asserting his dominance and claiming you publicly, leaving no doubt about your relationship

warnings | jealousy and possession, insecurity, smut, explicit content, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, semi public

word count | 2.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The restaurant was filled with laughter and conversations. You could hear the clinking of wine glasses and plates being served in the distance, but everything seemed distant to you. Sitting at the table next to Jun-ho, you felt that, no matter how hard you tried to enjoy it, something didn’t fit. The atmosphere seemed lively, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. His coworkers were talking about topics you didn’t fully understand, and although you tried to follow the flow of the conversation, your thoughts always returned to one thing: her.

It was impossible not to notice. The girl, with her dark hair and melodic laughter, stayed close to Jun-ho the entire time. Every time he made a joke, she laughed louder than the others, casually touching his arm, as if they shared a complicity you couldn’t reach. Every time their eyes met, you felt as if the air around you thickened, as if the world suddenly shrank, leaving you alone in the middle of that crowd.

The focus of attention seemed to always be Jun-ho, but there was something in the way she got close to him that made you twist inside. It wasn’t just that they were talking; it was the way they looked at each other, as if they shared a secret history that you didn’t know.

You felt increasingly uncomfortable, like an intruder, and when she leaned toward him to say something, touching his arm again, you couldn’t stop an intense feeling of jealousy from taking over you. You felt stupid, but you couldn’t help it. Why did it bother you so much to see how they laughed together, how they got close, as if they were the only ones in the room?

Jun-ho, unaware of your thoughts, continued enjoying the conversation. His coworkers also seemed charmed by his presence. He was the center of attention, and you, even though you were sitting next to him, felt invisible. Was it always like this with everyone? So close, so natural? You couldn’t stop wondering what they had that you didn’t.

With your heart racing, you took a sip of wine, trying to calm down, but when you looked at the girl again, you saw her smiling, moving even closer to him. Something inside you exploded. You didn’t want to be there, you didn’t want to keep seeing that scene. No matter how many times you told yourself you shouldn’t feel that way, the anxiety kept growing, taking over your mind and body.

You decided to stand up abruptly. You couldn’t stay there, feeling like the air was suffocating you. Jun-ho looked at you instantly.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice full of concern as he saw you get up from the table.

You felt tense, your breathing irregular, but you tried to keep calm. You looked toward the hallway, feeling the need to get away.

"Just... need some air," you replied, your tone not very convincing, but enough for him not to insist.

Jun-ho stared at you for a moment, then stood up as well. Without a word, he followed you down the restaurant hallway. You didn’t want him to come, but you couldn’t stop him from taking your hand with a firmness that, although gentle, was impossible to ignore.

"Are you sure everything’s okay?" he asked as they walked. There was a hint of concern in his voice, but also something else. Was it jealousy that sparkled in his eyes? You didn’t know, but what you could feel was the tension in his posture, the way his steps became quicker as he noticed you pulling away.

"I just need to be alone for a moment," you replied, but you couldn’t stop your tone from sounding more curt than you had planned. Frustration was starting to surface, and the last thing you wanted was to show Jun-ho how insecure you felt at that moment.

Finally, the two of you reached a small secluded corner, where he stopped you gently, looking at you with an intensity that made you swallow. The distance you had tried to put between you both didn’t exist, and Jun-ho's closeness made you feel more vulnerable than ever.

"What’s going on?" he said, this time without the previous concern, as if he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from you.

You couldn’t keep hiding it. The poison of jealousy coursed through you, and although you knew it wasn’t rational, you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

"It’s just... her... I can’t stop looking at her," you said, gritting your teeth, your gaze fixed on the floor. It was hard to look into his eyes, even though you knew he wouldn’t understand unless you said it. How could you explain that every time she got close to him, you felt like something in your chest was breaking?

Jun-ho remained silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, but there was a hardness you had never heard before.

"Are you getting jealous?" he asked, his tone so serious it almost made you regret speaking.

The blush appeared on your face instantly. You tried to find an exit, a way to take back the words you had just said, but the truth was, you couldn’t. That’s what you felt. No matter how silly it seemed, you couldn’t stop comparing yourself to her, to the way she seemed to have all of Jun-ho’s attention.

Before you could say anything else, Jun-ho took your hand and, without a word, led you to a nearby door. It was clear that he wasn’t going to let this conversation hang in the air. He wanted you to clarify it, he wanted both of you to clarify it.

He led you to the bathroom, the door closing behind you with a soft click, and the sound of the others’ voices faded away. All that was left was the echo of your breathing, his and yours.

Jun-ho looked at you with unusual intensity. There was a different energy in the air, something palpable, and you could feel it in every fiber of your body. Something had changed in him too, as if the situation had brought out a more passionate, more possessive version of himself.

"I’m going to show you that I’m only yours," he said in a low voice, like a promise, as his fingers traced your face. Every word was a heartbeat, and his eyes wouldn’t let you escape.

Your chest sped up, and when his lips met yours, you couldn’t stop a wave of desire from flooding your body. The kiss was deep, urgently warm, and at first, all you could feel was his closeness, his body pressing against yours with force, as if he wanted to erase everything else from the world.

But it wasn’t just that. You could feel his hands on your body, touching you with a palpable need, as if he were finally claiming you, as if the jealousy had pushed him to prove that only you mattered. And in that moment, all you thought, all the insecurities you had felt, faded completely.

"Jun-ho..." you murmured between kisses, but you didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t necessary.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, his hands found your waist, pressing you against him as his body moved with the same urgency you felt. His kisses were gentle at first, but they became more intense, more demanding. You didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want anything to separate you from him in that moment.

Without thinking, his fingers found your dress, sliding underneath to caress your legs. You arched towards him, knowing there was no turning back. You wanted to feel his touch, his tongue in your throat, his teeth caressing your nipples. All you wanted was him.

Both of their breaths were heavy, they were both panting, but they couldn't stop. He gently spread your legs, and when his fingers found your wet panties, he couldn't help but let out a deep sound of pleasure. It was as if you had driven him crazy, but you didn't feel guilty. You wanted it that way. You wanted him to realize that only you could make him feel that way.

"You are so beautiful" he said between kisses, moving his tongue along your neck. His fingers found your pussy, pressing it gently.

"Jun-ho... Please" you murmured, but you didn't need to say more. He knew exactly what you needed.

With a softness that surprised you, Jun-ho slipped two fingers into your wet pussy, moving them slowly. You could feel your inner walls caressed by his fingers, the warm touch, the movement so firm and confident, and before you could realize what was happening, your vagina began to contract. You clung to his shoulders, trembling with pleasure, and couldn't help but let out a moan.

Jun-ho continued moving his fingers, looking at you as your walls closed around them. The vision was so erotic, so exciting, that you felt like you were about to explode again.

"That's it, my love," he murmured, moving his thumb towards your clit. Come for me... Come to me, my love.

Your eyes closed and the orgasm took you on a journey of pleasure. You felt like you were flying, as if Jun-ho were the center of the world and you were surrounded by his energy. It was his touch that had brought you there, his finger pressing on your clitoris with softness but firmness, and you could do nothing but surrender to him.

It wasn't until several seconds later, when your breathing began to calm down, that you realized your panties were stained. But you didn't care. You couldn't be happier that Jun-ho had given you an orgasm in the restaurant bathroom, simply because you had made him feel jealous.

The idea was as erotic as it was sexy, and you didn't want it to end. You wanted to keep feeling his touch, feeling him inside you, as if it were possible to merge your bodies into one.

"I want to feel you inside me," you said softly, looking into his eyes. Jun-ho also seemed calm, but his pupils were dilated. You could see in them the need, the desire to fuck you.

Without a word, he lifted you off the ground and set you on the countertop. They were lucky that there was no one around at that moment, or the situation would have been even more embarrassing.

He pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift motion, revealing his hard cock. It was so beautiful, so big, so perfect. You desired her inside you, you wanted to feel her thickness, her warmth.

You didn't wait any longer. You lowered your panties and sat back on the countertop, spreading your legs so he could come closer to you. And that's exactly what he did.

He got between your legs, looking into your eyes as he placed the head of his cock at your entrance. You felt so wet that you knew he could slide in easily. And that's exactly what he did. He slid his cock into you with a smooth but firm motion, and you couldn't help but let out a scream.

"That's it," Jun-ho murmured between kisses, sliding his cock inside you. "You're so wet... You're going to like my cock, aren't you?"

You didn't respond. It wasn't necessary. You let his cock fuck you, let his touch take you to a wave of pleasure, while his fingers played with your nipples. And it didn't matter that you were in the bathroom of a crowded restaurant. The only thing that mattered was him, his body on top of you, his cock fucking you with such need.

"How does it feel?" you said in a whisper, arching towards him with each thrust—. How does it feel when you fuck me? What does it make you feel when you have me inside?

Jun-ho seemed lost in his own sensations, but upon hearing you, he opened his eyes again. He looked into your eyes with a burning intensity.

"It makes me feel powerful," he said in a very low voice, moving his hips so that his cock sank even deeper into you. It makes me feel like only I can do it, like only my cock can do it.

You felt yourself blush, but you didn't stop. You couldn't, you didn't want to. You wanted to listen more.

"And what does it make me feel?" you asked, tightening your walls around his cock. He let out a sound of pleasure, but continued speaking.

"It makes you feel like I'm yours," he replied in a firm voice. It makes you feel like you own my cock. As if only you deserved it.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to tell him that he was also your master. But you didn't. You couldn't speak, because at that moment, Jun-ho moved faster, thrusting his cock so deeply that you couldn't help but orgasm.

Yes, an orgasm, right there, in the bathroom of the most public place, with Jun-ho fucking you. And you couldn't complain. The sensation was so intense, so sexy, that you didn't want it to end. But Jun-ho seemed to know you were coming, because he moved harder, squeezing his fingers on your hips.

Your vagina contracted, and Jun-ho began to come. His muscles tensed, his breath stopped, and his cock emptied inside you.

Both were still, panting. You knew you should be ashamed, but you couldn't feel anything but pride. Pride in knowing that Jun-ho belonged only to you, and that he had shown it in the sexiest way you could imagine.

Finally, he pulled out of you and helped you down from the countertop. The semen began to spill onto your panties, but you didn't want to clean yourself. You wanted to take it home, feel its touch on your panties all day.

Jun-ho smiled upon seeing the expression on your face.

"Don't worry," he murmured, kissing you softly. I think you already understood. "You're jealous, and I'm going to give you something so you always feel secure. Okay?".

You didn't respond. You didn't need to do it. You knew that Jun-ho would always be there for you, but only for you. And that was more than enough.

After what happened in the bathroom, everything seemed different. The air between you and Jun-ho was charged with a new tension, something you had never experienced with him before. The words he had whispered to you in the middle of the kiss kept resonating in your mind: "I'm going to show you that I'm only yours." You felt yourself going crazy, every fiber of your being burning with the intensity of his caresses, but now there was something even stronger, a need you couldn't ignore.

When Jun-ho opened the bathroom door, the noise of the restaurant hit you full force, but it was no longer the same. Even though the others continued chatting and laughing, the world felt more distant than ever. You walked beside him, as if you were floating, and the only thing you could think about was what had happened between the two of you, what he had shown.

The curious thing was that, instead of trying to smooth over the situation or hide what had just happened, Jun-ho seemed even more confident about what had occurred. And as soon as they returned to the table, he made no attempt to separate from you.

As they moved forward, you felt more uncomfortable. Everything seemed to be happening at a different speed, as if everything around you were slowed down, while your body continued to vibrate with the electricity that Jun-ho had left in you. Your eyes searched for hers, but this time, you felt no fear, no jealousy, no insecurity. Jun-ho's dominance over you was so clear that, for the first time, you felt completely secure.

The place was lively, but when they reached the table, something in the atmosphere changed. Everyone seemed so busy with their conversations that they didn't notice the immediate change in the interaction between you and Jun-ho. However, what happened next made it clear that he no longer intended to hide what was between the two of them.

Jun-ho sat down again, but this time, he didn't let you sit next to him like before. No, this time he took your hand, guiding you onto his lap without hesitation. The murmurs at the table faded as he, with a fixed and dominant gaze, drew you closer, as if ensuring that no one could question who you were to him.

Everyone's eyes turned towards you, and in that moment, you felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. Jun-ho smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was a smile that spoke of possession, of control. Suddenly, you felt his hand slide down your back with a firmness that made you shiver.

"This is so you have no doubt," he murmured, before his lips met yours in a passionate, direct kiss, in front of everyone.

The clash of sensations was immediate. The world around you disappeared, only he and you existed, and the intertwined mouths. The kiss was neither shy nor brief; it was long, intense, full of a promise that didn't need to be verbalized. Jun-ho held you tightly, making your body press closer to his, as if you wanted to disappear into him.

At first, the room fell silent. No one dared to interrupt, surprised by Jun-ho's audacity. But then, someone laughed nervously, and another murmured something softly, as if trying to downplay what had just happened. However, Jun-ho showed no signs of concern. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy every glance, every whisper at the table, as if he fed off the attention they gave him.

When they finally parted, the air around them was charged, but not with tension, rather with an unbreakable confidence. Jun-ho looked at you with a smile that knew exactly what it was causing. He knew there was no way anyone could doubt what was between them.

"Is that clear to you?" he asked in a low voice, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Your breath was ragged, but it wasn't just because of the kiss. There was something in his attitude, something in the way he had behaved that had completely shattered you. And now, looking at him, you understood that there were no doubts. There was no room for insecurities. You were with him, and that was all that mattered.

You nodded, without the need to say a word. You knew you didn't need to speak. Jun-ho had done everything he needed to do to make sure there was no room for doubt. And when everyone's attention slowly returned to their own conversations, you felt different. It wasn't that you had been "possessed" in some way, but there was something in that kiss, in that public display of affection and control, that had erased any insecurity you might have had.

The others returned to their conversations, some of them even trying to discreetly glance towards where you and Jun-ho were sitting. But he didn't let you go for a second. The way he held you, the way he looked at you, made you feel like you were his, without the need for words.

[lesservillain]

Request: Friends to lovers with Steve? We want so desperately for him to notice us, but he never asks us to hang out outside of the group. We’ve got to take matters into our own hands…or do we?

i wrote all of this in one sitting so enjoy!

cw: smut, piv, perv steve

wc: 3.3k

You looked yourself over in the mirror a few times to make sure everything was in place. There would be other people at this pool party, including the kids, so you weren’t trying to show off too much. But you wanted to made sure you looked good. Good enough for him.

It had been a long time crush, longer than you’d like you admit, that turned into a head over heels affection for Steve Harrington as recently as last year. When you were tossed into the throws that was “the Starcourt Mall incident,” you saw how brave and caring he could be in real time when it came to putting himself before you and the others. It just solidified the feelings that you’d been harboring for the king since before he started working with you at Scoops Ahoy.

But Steve just didn’t seem to feel the same way about you.

You watched as he flirted with countless girls at the mall as they came in for ice cream, and you’ve seen him do the same with the girls at Family Video where he now works with Robin. You even thought that him and Robin might be having a secret fling, but she assured you that was not the case. Either way, Steve never seemed to even be more than friendly with you. And it was really starting to bum you out.

Now that you work at your mom’s hair salon, the only way the two of you really see each other was when the whole gang would get together. Which today happened to be such an occasion. It was Dustin’s birthday party and the weather was warm enough that Steve decided to throw him a pool party at his house. Dustin extended an invite to you and you decided it would be the perfect opportunity to finally catch Steve’s attention.

You checked out the two piece on your body in the mirror. The ruffled top accentuated your breasts and the bottoms were just peaky enough to leave more to be desired. Plus the navy really brought out the colour of your eyes. You did feel a little dumb putting on make up and doing your hair, but you didn’t plan on going under the water so you were sure you’d be fine.

When you pulled up to Steve’s house you could already hear the kids being rowdy in the back yard. You grabbed Dustin’s gift from your back seat and went around the back to find everyone there. It didn’t take long to find Steve, manning the grill in his swim trucks and a cropped, sleeveless t-shirt. Jesus christ.

“You came!” Dustin shouted from the pool grabbing your attention.

“Of course I came!” You reply, raising the wrapped box in your hand. “Wouldn’t miss my little buddy’s big 15th!”

“Told you guys she would come,” Dustin says pointing this thumb in your direction. The kids all rolled their eyes at him and continued swimming around in the pool.

“Hey,” Steve says, giving you a wave. “You can set that inside if you want. Don’t want these bone heads to accidentally get it wet with one of their water guns.”

That's when you noticed. The entire front of Steve’s body was clearly drenched in water and it was leaving little to the imagination about what was underneath. His chest hair was clearly visible through the shirt, as were his nipples…

“Earth to dingus, are you okay?”

Robin’s voice snapped you out of your trance.

“Y-yeah, sorry, I’m just feeling a little spacey today is all.”

“Sure you are,” she said with wiggled eyebrows. Robin didn’t know you had a crush on Steve, but you were sure she expected it, even though you denied it anytime she asked.

“Do you want a beer?” Steve asks, bending over to grab one from the cooler.

“Sure,” you say with a slight stutter. This was going to be a long day, and you might as well have a drink to help you keep it together.

“I’ll help you take that inside,” Robin says after Steve hands you a beer. You nod and the two of you go through the sliding glass door. 

There were several other gifts set out on the table so you just sat your gift there with the rest. When you turned to look at Robin, she had a shit eating grin on her face.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep as collected as possible.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, “Just seemed like you were checking Steve out out there.”

“Robin, I was not checking him out.”

“I knew you’d deny it. But I have eyes, and I can tell when someone wants to eat another person alive.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at her.

“Steve is just a friend. I was just surprised to see him soaking wet is all.”

“At a pool party?”

Shit, she got you there.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I’m sure you hadn’t.”

There was a pause between you two before she inevitably turned and opened the sliding glass door. As soon as you walked out you heard your name being called from the pool.

“Come get in the pool, we need one more person for volleyball!”

Ah, yes, perfect time to unveil yourself.

“Okay, coming!” You say walking over to one of the pool chairs. You started to undress, hoping that Steve was watching you as you did. Shirt was off first; you made it a point to bend over in his direction when you pulled your shorts down. You heard a huff from Robin, who you were sure was seeing right through you, but you weren’t going to entertain her.

You took a chance to look over at Steve, who, to your dismay, seemed to be too preoccupied with the grill to have even looked your way. Damn it.

“Cute bathing suit,” El says from the pool.

“Thanks!” You say. At least someone noticed.

“What does it look like?” Max asks from the pool steps.She was looking in your general direction, but you knew she wouldn’t be able to see you from so far away, even with her glasses. You moved closer to her so she could see better.

“It’s navy blue, with some ruffles on the top and a little ruffle skirt.” You take her hand and let her touch the material so she can get a better idea.

“Shit!” You turn to see Steve holding his hand, wincing in pain.

“You okay, chef?” Robin asks.

“Yeah, just got too close to the grill is all.”

“Come on, lets play already!”

Your attention is taken away from Steve yet again by the teens calling for you. Dustin announces he wants you on his team and everyone groans.

“You only want her on your team because she’s an adult,” Lucas says.

“And your point is?” Dustin retorts.

“I’m honestly not that good, Dustin,” you tell him.

“We’ll see about that.”

And saw he did.

Even with El not using her powers, her, Mike, and Lucas beat you Dustin and Will by a landslide victory.

“Told you,” you shrug at him.

“It’s alright,” Dustin says defeated.

“I still think El cheated,” Will says.

“Did not!”

“Hey, food’s ready!”

That got the kids attention. They all rushed out, Lucas stopping to help Max get out as they did. They all hoarded around Steve who passed out dogs and burgers to everyone.

“What will you take?” He asks when he finally gets to you.

“A hotdog, please,” you say, holding your plate with the bun on it for him.

“Don’t shake it!”

“But nothing’s coming out-woah!”

It takes your brain a minute to process the feeling of something hitting you. You raise your hand to your hair and it instantly touches something wet and slimy. Bringing it back down, you look at your hand to find it’s covered in mustard.

The first thing you do is look at Steve, whose expression makes your heart drop. You probably look like a total idiot right now.

“Dude…” Steve turns to look beside you.

“I am, so, so sorry,” you hear Dustin say.

“It’s okay,” you say, more so telling yourself that rather than getting upset over an accident.

“Do you want to use my shower?” Steve asks, looking at you pitifully.

“Thanks.”

“Gimme that,” Steve says, grabbing the mustard bottle from Dustin as he walks past.

“Hey, I was still going to use that!”

“Just turn the knob to, like, right here and the water should be plenty warm for you.”

Steve shows you how to use the shower while mustard still drips from your hair. At least he’s not making fun of you. Just another reason to love him

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says, turning to look at you. He’s very close to you in this bathroom, so much so you can smell his sweaty skin and cologne. “If you want I can run your bathing suit through the dryer real quick.”

“That would be perfect, thanks.” He stands there for a moment, and you don’t really know what to do. “Um, I’ll get undressed now.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He leaves the bathroom and pulls the door shut.

You start to pull the bathing suit off when the bathroom door starts to open.

“What the hell,” you say, closing the door.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve calls through the door, “This door is broken and doesn’t always stay latched. I’ll stand outside the door while you shower to make sure no one comes by.”

“Okay,” you call back.

Once undressed, you stand behind the door the best you can and stick your arm through the opening. Steve takes your bathing suit and you close the door behind you.

You do your best not to wash your make up off while in Steve’s shower. You do take the time to huff his sweet smelling shampoo. You’ve smelled it on him before, and it reminds you of him. It was crazy to think he was just on the other side of the door while you were in here. The idea made you a little crazy. Something to think about later tonight when you’re alone.

Turning the water off, you pull back the curtain and find that the bathroom door is cracked open a bit. You decided not to think much of it. Not like anyone would see you while Steve was manning the door

You took the towel that Steve had given you and started to dry off before wrapping your hair in it. You wondered if Steve had a blow dryer some where and decided to ask.

“Steve?”

You hear a thump from the other side of the door.

“Y-yeah,” you hear him reply.

“Do you have a hair dryer?”

There’s a quiet pause.

“Under the sink,” he replies.

“Thanks!”

You bend over and look for his hair dryer, finding it hanging on the side of the cabinet on a little hook. A smart idea.

Plugging it in, you take the towel out of your hair and lay it over the shower rod to dry. You take your time to dry it, you used your fingers to run through it since you didn’t have a comb.

“You can use my brush,” you hear from behind you. It startles you, and you look at the door through the mirror.

You’re shocked when you can see an eye peeking through the crack.

You place the dryer back down on the counter and grab the towel, wrapping it back around your body slowly. 

Then, you suddenly grab the door and swing it wide open.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t Steve Harrington with his cock in his hand.

“I can explain!” He says, covering himself. Well, trying to cover himself. He was huge. So big in fact that not even his big hands could cover the horse between his legs.

“Steve…were you spying on me?”

“I-I-wasn’t-I was--”

There’s no way this was real life. You’ve been trying to get Steve Harrington to notice you for months and you catch him not only jerking himself off, but doing it while spying on you.

So you make a bold move.

“Steve.” You drop your towel, fully exposing yourself to him. His eyes drop with the towel, slowly moving back up your body, examining you closely.

“If you wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask.”

He stands there, still as a statue as he tries to compute the words that just came out of your mouth. Since he didn’t seem to be getting the hint, you decide to grab him by the shirt and pull him into the bathroom. Pushing the door closed behind you, you hear it latch just fine.

“Are you going to say something, Stevie?” You say in a silky smooth voice.

“I-I--”

But you don’t give him the chance to stutter more. You take his cheeks in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The smell of his aftershave fills your senses as your lips move in tandem, waking him up from his stupor enough to get the hint.

He starts to take off his shorts, letting them drop to the floor and kicking them off. His shirt comes next, your lips parting for just a moment to let the fabric pull over his head. You let your hands land on his chiseled chest, fingers desperately running through the hair that resides there. The feeling only confirming that this was indeed happening.

His hands land on your hips, sliding down until they reach your ass. He cups you, and suddenly you’re being lifted up and onto the counter. He pushes you back, kissing you with such force that you hit the mirror behind you.

“You were so hot out there undressing,” he says as his lips trail down to your neck. “And when you let Max see your swimsuit. That was so sweet of you.”

“Really, that’s what got you going?” Your laugh turns into a moan as his hands grope your breasts.

“I’ve got a soft spot for those kids. Seeing you be nice to them just--” His lips meet yours again, his teeth taking your lower lip and pulling on it.

One of his hands moves from your breast and lowers down to between your legs. You feel him rub his fingers in your wetness and it makes your breath hitch when he hits your clit.

“Right there, huh?” He says, his fingers beginning to rub gentle circles into your bud.

“Oh, shit, Steve--”

“Sound so pretty when you say my name,” he says against your ear.

He does some moving between your legs and you suddenly feel his finger making its way inside of you, his thumb replacing them to keep tending to your clit. His finger pumps inside of you at a breathtaking pace, the thick digit hitting that spot inside you.

“You’re so wet. Is that for me or is it just from the shower?”

“Definitely for you,” you pant out. You could feel yourself getting close to your release the more he worked you. When he added a second finger stretching you out more, you felt the coil tightening at an alarming rate.

“Oh my god, Steve, I’m gonna--”

“Do it. Cum for me, baby girl.”

That chord snaps, and you start to cum on Steve’s fingers, legs shaking around him as you do.

Steve slows down, letting you come down from your high while giving you kisses all over your neck and cheeks.

“You think you’re ready for me, baby?”

You nod your head drunkenly. Steve uses the spend on his fingers to pump himself, lubricating his cock with it before bringing the head to your entrance. In a moment of clarity you almost panic. The sheer size of Steve between your legs had you worried.

“It’ll fit, I promise.” He says as if reading your mind. You gulp, but choose to trust him. “Just tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.”

You nod your head again, and the both of you watch as Steve lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you. The stretch was something else. You’d never been with anyone as big as Steve before and it started to make you question any guy you’d been with before.

But he took his time. He definitely knew his limits and rocked in and out of you at a gentle pace until he found himself fully sheathed inside of you.

“You ready?” He asks in a sultry tone, giving you a half smile.

“Y-yes, please,” you gasp out, still amazed that he was able to fit.

Steve chuckles and begins to move. And it feels amazing. It wasn’t a brutal pace, but as it picked up, you could definitely understand why all the girls in high school talked about his game back in the day. This was the fullest you’d ever felt in your life.

But Steve wasn’t just fucking you. No, this felt like there was passion behind it. Something about the way he was staring between you with an open mouth expression really turned you. It didn’t feel like just a random fuck on a random Tuesday.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you moan out as his hips smack into your ass over and over.

“That’s right baby girl, tell me who’s fucking you right now,” he says as his pace starts to quicken.

“You are, oh my god, you are, Steve,” you say. You start to feel that familiar feeling in your stomach again the more he pounds into you.

“Fuck yea,” he moans, moving in close to take your lips as his once again. “Been wanting-to do-this for-a while.” He talks between kisses and his words set your body aflame. Steve wanted to fuck you. If you weren’t experience it in real time, you’d say this was just another one of your wet dreams.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” he says as he pulls away. His thumb returns to your clit to rub quick circles  into it, only heating you up more.

“Fuck, fuck, Steve--” You feel yourself getting closer to the edge as he continues to work you. It’s not much longer before you feel yourself cumming on his cock, squeezing and contracting around him in a way that drives him crazy. And in just a few more pumps, you feel Steve starting to fill you up. 

After a moment, you finally come down from your high to see Steve panting like he just ran a marathon. You’re about to speak when he brings his lips to yours. Even in his post nut clarity, he feels the need to kiss you like a man starved.

But you kiss him back joyfully, glad to know that this wasn’t just going to be one big mistake for him.

“That was--”

“Crazy.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a smile that melts your heart.

You wince as he pulls himself out of you. He grabs the towel from the ground and reaches around you to wet the end of it, using it as a rag to clean you up.

“You’re too sweet, Steve Harrington,” you say with hearts in your eyes.

“Nah, I just really like you,” he says throwing the towel to the ground.

“You like me?” You say with surprise. “Like, like me, like me?”

He looks at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“For a while now. I just didn’t want it to become a whole thing with the kids if I asked you out and you turned me down.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t do that. I’ve liked you longer than you’ve even known I existed.”

Steve head tilts back and he laughs that sweet laugh of his. 

“Of all the girls I try and ask out, the one I had a chance with is the one I actively avoided.”

“I guess you should ask her out then. She’d probably say yes.”

“How’s Friday night looking for you?”

“Looks like I’ll be busy with Steve Harrington.”

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Hii love your writing obsessed with I wish I hated you 💋💋 wanted to request a Finnick x capitol reader where it’s him breaking in to find reader sneaking around the house at night behind peacekeepers, he was sent by the rebels to capture reader to use her to threaten snow but she is on their side and goes willingly, maybe her falling for Finnick during the escape. Keep in mind since she is close to snow by blood that means she wasn’t exposed to a lot of people so even if she is for the right cause she is naive so her love might be obsession or reliance but I mean it all works out in the end. Anyways other thank that ik I said it but I love how you write Finnick!

omg thank so so much girly💗💗 i always love whenever people enjoy my writing!! and oh i love this idea sm (THIS IS PROBABLY GONNA BE A 2 PART THING)

‘I Can See You’

finnick odair x capitol fem reader

masterlist

You'd made it a habit of sneaking around, something about it always felt so freeing. Ever since the rebels had satrted making moves against the Capitol, your grandfather, President Snow, had uped the presence of guards in the mansion. Everywhere you went, the halls would be lined with guards posted at every window, at every exit, at every entrance. You felt trapped, but you couldn't complain too much, you were trapped in a luxorious mansion whilist the people in the districts suffered the wrath of your grandfather.

You hated watching the coverage of the districts, but you're grandfather forced you to. He knew you hated it, but he hoped that you would let go of you naivety that way you could learn how to keep control of the districts, that way when it came time, you could stand in a place of power.

But you didn't want power, you wanted peace. You hated seeing the people suffer, the people that the Capitol were supposedely in charge of. You hoped the rebels would win this war.

You were sneaking around the house again. Tiptoeing around every peacekeeper on guard, your silk slippers making no noise as you did.

But something was different about tonight. Everything felt quieter. Like you were being watched. But whenever you would turn your head, no one would be there. You brushed the feeling off and turned the corner to make your way to the rose gardens, but once you did, thats when a hand clamped over your mouth. You let out a muffled gasp as you were pulled against a broad chest. You struggled a bit as the person pulled you into the shadows of the hallways.

"Don’t scream," the voice hissed in your ear.

You stopped struggling as the hand slowly withdrew from your mouth. You spun around, fully ready to call out for help or to run away, but all thoughts of escape stopped as you looked up at the person.

Finnick Odair. The Capitol Darling, now a rebel.

You had seen him before at events, but you had never spoken to him before. You were used to seeing him in flashy Capitol attire, now here he was in tactical gear.

"Finnick?" you whispered, your voice shaky but dripping with awe.

Finnick tilted his head, watching you carefully, his expression unreadable. “You know who I am. Good. That saves time.”

"I-I mean, of course I know who you are," you stammered, your cheeks flushing. "Everyone knows you. You’re... you’re Finnick Odair. Capitol Darling turned...rebel"

His lips twitched, but the hint of amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you know I don’t have time to explain.” He reached for her wrist, his grip firm. “You’re coming with me.”

Your brows knit together, “Coming with you? Why? Where?”

"I don't have time to explain. So we can do this the easy way and you can either come with me willingly, or," he pulls out a tranquilizer, "We can do this the more...difficult way. Your choice honey."

Your mind rushed with thoughts, if you went with him you would be leaving the comfort of the mansion.

But it dawned on you. You would be leaving the mansion.

"I'll go with you."

Finnick smirks, "Good girl. Good choice." he says pocketing the tranquilizer. "Stay close and don’t make a sound. Keep quiet."

Finnick’s hand wrapped around your wrist as he began moving swiftly through the shadows. You struggled to match his pace, your silk slippers slipping slightly on the polished floors. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant murmur of Peacekeepers made your heart race, but Finnick didn’t falter.

"Where are we going?" you whispered.

Finnick shot you a look, his expression stern. "Didn’t I say no talking?"

You blushed from embarassment, "I'm sorry- I've just- I haven't been allowed to leave this place in a long time."

"I know," he interrupted, his tone softening just slightly. "That’s why you need to trust me and stay quiet."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as he turned another corner.

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached a back entrance you’d never noticed before. Finnick paused, pressing his ear to the door. "Come on," he whispered, tugging you forward as he opened the door, but the moment he did he saw a group of peacekeepers coming down the hall.

"Shit." he whispered under his breath, pushing you through the exit as he quickly closed the door.

He pressed you against the wall, his body shielding yours as he peeked through the crack to watch the Peacekeepers’ movements.

"Stay still," he whispered, his voice low but commanding.

You nodded and held your breath, you could practically hear your heart pounding against your chest, and you were sure Finnick could hear it too because he was looking down at you with...a look. You couldn't exactly figure out what he was thinking, but he was definitely thinking of...something.

The muffled sound of boots echoed through the hallway on the other side of the door. Finnick pulled back, taking your hand as he led you deeper into the shadows of outside.

"Do you even have a plan?" you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady.

Finnick shot you a sharp look but didn’t stop moving. "Yes. Step one: get you out of here alive. Step two: worry about the rest later."

"That doesn’t sound very reassuring," you muttered under your breath.

Finnick let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Welcome to the rebellion."

As you both maneuvered through the courtyard, there was complete silence.

"Why take me?" you ask suddenly, "To hurt Snow?"

Finnick paused, glancing back at you with a raised brow. "What?"

"Why risk everything to get me? I'm...not that important to him, he thinks I'm a lost cause."

"You’re more important than you think. The rebels need leverage, and you’re it. You’re Snow’s blood. If we can use you, we could end this war."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling on your shoulders.

Finnick’s gaze softened slightly as he noticed your unease. "Look, I know this is a lot, but you’re doing the right thing. You’re on the right side now."

You nodded, unsure if it was reassurance or simply Finnick’s presence that made you feel safe.

He tugged your hand gently. "Come on. We’re not safe yet."

As the two of you approached the outer edge of the courtyard, Finnick stopped abruptly, holding up a hand to silence you. The faint hum of a hovercraft’s engines grew louder in the distance.

"Is that...?" you started to ask, but Finnick shook his head, cutting you off.

"Not ours," he said grimly.

Your stomach dropped as the spotlight of a Capitol hovercraft swept across the grounds, illuminating the pristine gardens.

Finnick pulled you close, his arm wrapping protectively around you as he ducked behind a large hedge. "Stay low," he whispered.

You huddled close to him, your heart racing as the spotlight came dangerously close. The warmth of Finnick’s body against yours was oddly comforting, even more so when he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

"Good girl," Finnick said quietly as he kept you low.

His words sent an unexpected warmth through you again, and you found yourself wanting to impress him, to earn more of his approval.

As the hovercraft finally moved away, Finnick let out a breath he’d been holding and looked down at you, brushing a stray hair out of your face. "You okay?"

You nodded, "I think so."

"Good," he said, helping you to your feet. "Let's keep moving."

You both kept moving but then Finnick stopped abruptly, holding up a hand to signal you to be quiet. His expression was hard, calculating, eyes flicking back to the mansion in the distance.

"What's wrong?"

Finnick’s gaze flickered toward the front gate, where a squad of Peacekeepers stood guard. The front gate was heavily fortified, and with the increased military presence lately, you knew escaping through there would be nearly impossible.

With a swift motion, he reached for a small device tucked in his belt, his fingers working expertly as he adjusted the settings. He looked at you, his eyes serious but with a glint of something like reassurance. "Get down," he ordered, his voice low.

"Finnick, what are you-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, he threw the device at the gate and quickly shielded you with his body.

The sound of the explosion tore through the silence of the night, the force of it rattling your bones. The entire front gate of the mansion was engulfed in a cloud of smoke and fire, sending debris scattering in all directions. You could already hear the shouts of peacekeepers and the sound alarms blaring in the distance.

"We need to go now" he gripped your wrist tightly and pulled you along again. His pace was unrelenting, and despite the fear that was settling in your chest, you had no choice but to keep up.

"You’ll be fine," Finnick murmured, his voice steady despite the chaos surrounding you. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt butterflies in your stomach. You're his mission. His protection was overwhelming, and you wanted more.

[crownmemes]

Angry & Irritated Sentences, Vol. 30

(Angry and irritated sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Are you going to make this a habit?"

"Why is it that I surround myself with a bunch of incompetent fools?"

"I don't want your pity. It will only make things worse."

"Put that away before you break something!"

"That's really not the legal loophole you think it is."

"You're causing everybody quite a bit of trouble. If you want a word of warning: don't keep it up."

"I'm going to put this as delicately as possible: how fucking stupid are you?"

"Did someone put you up to this?"

"You sound paranoid! Why? I was only doing you a favour!"

"I don't care what you meant to do; it's what you did that I don't like!"

"You don't get to bring up the other person's slights when you're apologising!"

"You'll end up falling out with everyone if you carry on like this!"

"The next time you come in here without my permission, you and me are going to have a problem."

"Do you have to enjoy my discomfort quite so much?"

"I believe you - this time."

"This is not even remotely my problem."

"You don't ever say that again! Do you hear me?"

"We cannot bring anyone else into this!"

"When did you become so contentious?"

"You don't need to remind me of my sins. Just never forget your own."

"You do recall being told not to do what you just did?"

"Is this your way of apologising?"

"This is the worst idea you've ever had."

"We don't have time for any more questions!"

"You're being very fucking droll for 3am!"

"Don't shout. Shouting will get you nowhere."

"Whatever it is you want - whatever you're looking for - the answer is no."

"Why do you have to control everything?"

"You could have just fucking told me!"

"Will anyone be spared your ire tonight?"

"You shot me in the ass!"

"This is not a psychology lesson."

"Genius doesn't mean you can treat people any way you want! It means shutting up and doing good work!"

"Don't play games. I'm not in the mood."

"Are you saying I smell like a dead cat?"

[tulip-room]

elodea - o. tooru || wc:5.2k || tags: childhood friends to lovers, mermaid au, artist yn, muse oikawa, "pen pals" of sorts, touch starved, something keeps them apart, second chance,depression <//3, bad parental relationships, first time saying "I love you", 5 +1...sort of ! || hq works

i.

When she first meets the boy she’s unsure what to make of him, she knows he looks different than her, she asks where his legs are as they’re hidden under the water and he just laughs. It sounds like the sea breeze itself and refreshes her in a way she had yet to experience. “I don’t have those,” she sees a shine under the water and tilts her head. 

“Everyone has legs.”

“No they don’t.” To prove his point he swims closer to the dock she’s sitting on and flicks up what looks to be a tail. The scales shine decadently in the golden summer light, his skin is tanned and there’s an easy smile on his face. “I told you,” she leans down and her hands graze the water. He turns and the motion splashes her with water and she almost falls in. “I didn’t say you could touch it,” his small fingers are just curled over the edge of the wooden dock and his brown eyes stare into hers. 

“Sorry,” there’s a slight lisp as one of her front teeth has yet to grow in yet. “What’s your name?”

“Oikawa Tooru,” the water moves gently as she assumes his tail pushes it to keep him upright.

“I’m L/N Y/N,” she holds out her hand and he takes it. When he spreads his fingers she sees the webbing connecting the joints together, she turns his hand over and examines it in comparison with her own. Her mind doesn’t wrap around just what he is until the sun threatens to set over the horizon. They spend hours discussing everything their brains could think of from the color of the water to their favorite foods. “Will you be here tomorrow?” He nods and she hears the call of her grandmother from the top of the hill. 

“Will you be here tomorrow?” He tries to ask inconspicuously but fails as she catches on.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you enjoyed hanging out with me today.”

“Well…it’s a good thing you know better then.” There’s smiles on both of their faces as her name gets called yet again. “You better get going, come back tomorrow.”

She almost can’t wait to wake up the next day but her grandma reminds her of the chores she has to do. She tries to rush through them, the dishes not dried and put away, mud prints on the tiled floor from when she ran out to feed the horses, her yellow rain boots squeaking as she runs around the townhouse. “Get back in her,” she hears sternly behind her just as she’s rushing out the door. There her grandma stands with his hands on her hips and a stern but soft look on her face. “And where are you off to this morning in such a rush? You have mud on your face,” she licks her thumb and wipes the dirt away much to Y/N’s protest. 

“Grandma, stop it!” She pushes her away and tries to wriggle free from her grasp. There’s a moment of laughter from both of them and with a kiss on her forehead her grandma lets her go. 

“Okay, go be a kid. Have fun, don’t pick up any snakes you find.” Her grandma warns teasingly before she runs off down the hill yellow rain boots squeaking the whole time.  When she makes it down to the dock she sees a familiar head of brown hair and the same shining tail as yesterday.

“What took you so long,” he turns around excitedly before trying to cover it by crossing his arms. “Not that I was waiting or anything.” He makes a point to close his eyes and turn his head away.

“Sorry Fishy, I had to do chores.” She sticks her tongue out at him as she lays down on the dock, it creaks under her movements and she looks up at the clouds. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No, I only got here a few minutes ago.” She hums in response and closes her eyes as she allows the sun to beam down on her. “Do you live here?”

“No, I’m only visiting for the summer.” There’s a strange pang in his chest at the words, he’s only known her for a day at most and he already knows he’s going to miss her presence. He shakes the thoughts away and pulls himself up so only his tail is left in the water and joins her laying down. She can hear the splashes of protest from the water and hear his breaths as he hoists himself up. “Do you live here?”

“Yeah, I live by where the lake meets the ocean.”

“That seems far,” if she remembers where he’s talking about.

“It’s not bad, maybe a five minute swim?” He questions himself and then they sit in silence. “Where do you go after the summer?”

“My mom got a new job so I have to go move in with her. I want to stay here though, it’s where all my friends are.”

“Oh, how far away?”

“Two hours,” she sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. He finds his head shifting to look at her, the light tracing her face and he wonders if her skin is as soft as it looks. 

“Oh, that’s really far.” There’s a somber tone for a few minutes before the children start pointing out clouds and what they look like. 

He knows the time is passing because her front tooth has started growing in and her lisp starts to go away. “Are you coming back?”

“Next summer,” she hums. It’s become routine for them to lay on the dock together. They pretend the time doesn’t pass as quickly as it does and live in their moment. Their moment of warm sunlight and frogs croaking in weeds, of the wind whistling through cattails, and of dragonflies buzzing and flying along the water’s edge. “Can I see you here next summer?”

“Of course.” They both know their weeks together are drawing to a close. Can feel it as the weather starts cooling down and their days get shorter. She goes to school to finish out the year but she always comes back to him when she gets back. By the final week of summer her tooth has grown in and her lisp has gone away. It gets chillier at night and he stops joining her on the dock. 

“I got you something,” she says as she rummages through her bag, post it notes and pencils fall out as she grabs hold of what she wants. It’s a necklace, there’s a plastic bag holding it in but it’s clear as to what it is. She pulls out the delicate chain and he can spot a seashell hanging from the chain. 

“I love it,” he answers and takes it from her hands before she can say another word. After he puts it on he holds up a hand. “I have something for you too, I’ll be back in ten minutes. Wait for me?”

“Always.” Her feet dangle over the edge but she’s careful not to let her shoes hit the water. Around ten minutes later an out of breath boy pops his head out of the water. He holds a bag in his hands and holds it out to her. She leans forward and grabs it, inside she finds a bracelet of sea gems and smiles. “Thank you,” she puts it on and admires how it twinkles in the light of the setting sun. 

ii.

It’s easy to tell they’ve both grown older when she visits again the next summer break. Her limbs have grown longer and his voice has gotten deeper. Their routine continues when she returns. They manage to make it halfway through the break before he stops showing up every day. She waits for him with her knees curled up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. Her arms are wrapped around her legs and it’s almost time for her to go back in when she can see the faintest shimmer of what she hopes are scales. A smile grows when the shimmering gets closer and she can just make out a familiar head of brown hair. “What took you so long clamshell?”

“Sorry,” he tries to catch his breath and reaches into his seaweed bag. “I can’t always be here anymore.” He hands her the conch and the inside contrasts with the rough outside as she runs her hands over it. “Just blow into it and I’ll come as soon as I can.” She nods and he must hear something she can’t because she can see his face drop. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, go do what you need to do Tooru,” with one last solemn look towards her, his head ducks under the water and she watches as the shimmering scales grow farther and farther away from her. She continues to sit on the old dock for a few moments longer as she turns the shell in her hands. The air is hot and humid and sticks to her skin like glue, the dragonflies buzz as they graze the water lines and her mind wanders to last summer and what could have changed so suddenly. She stands up from the chipping dock and tredges her way back up the hill and into her grandma’s home. It’s cool inside and she can smell the beginnings of dinner being started. 

“Well, aren’t you back early.” It’s more of a statement than a question as her grandma throws her a glance from where she stands. “Where in the world did you manage to find a conch around here?”

“It was a gift,” she mumbles and sits down at the table. The cloth is a pale yellow with small embroidered flowers over it in small square designs. The shell clinks softly as the tablecloth acts as a buffer for the noise. 

“You don’t seem very happy about the gift,” she lays her head down in her arms and stares out the window. She tries not to think of the sea or the lake, it will make her think of him and the surprisingly large hole he’s left for her to fill without him. She feels a hand on her shoulder as a chair screeches against the wood. Her grandma sits down while the pot boils in the background. “What’s going on little love?”

“One of my friends that I was excited to see is too busy to hang out the rest of the break.” Her grandma chuckles lightly and she glares lightly. “What’s funny?”

“That’s part of growing up, it’s okay to not see them all the time. The person is still your friend and you still care about each other?” She nods her head at the question. “Then, nothing else matters. Get that frown off your face, little love and help me finish dinner.” The chair scoots against the wood and the table shifts its weight as her grandma uses it to help her stand. She follows close behind and they talk about school, how the garden is coming along, the horses, and everything they can think of. She’s missed this, the feeling of home and the sea breeze. 

Despite herself she goes back the next day, she waits and she waits and waits. The air turns chilly and the fireflies start coming out and she knows he’s not coming today. She pulls the bracelet off her wrist and finds herself becoming calmer as her thumb rubs over the gems, they’ve been smoothed out among the edges and she finds herself smiling. He’s not entirely gone, he’s still with her when she smells the salty air of the sea or feels the wood beneath her. This is their spot and that doesn’t change just because one of them isn’t there. She rushes back up to the house and digs through all kinds of drawers, she knows she’s making a racket but her grandma doesn’t say anything to her. She just holds a fond look in her eyes as she watches her write a short letter and take a piece of geode with her. 

The geode wasn’t very old, at least in her possession, only having it for a few months after a class trip to learn about the different kinds of rocks. Her rain boots are tighter this year than they were the year prior but they still squeak as she runs down the grassed hill of her grandma’s backyard and towards the dock, their spot. She folds the paper and sets the geode on top, with a hopeful look towards the horizon she heads back up the hill and disappears into the comforting home of her grandma. She’ll have her summer memories forever, she’ll remember the air sticking to her skin and the boy with chocolate hair that she met on a dodgy dock. She’ll remember the sea breeze and her grandma’s cooking. She’ll remember the joy she feels when she’s here even long after she’s left. 

iii.

She gets used to the walls of her school, makes friends among the people in her classes. Tries to forget her time at the lakehouse. Her grandma has been sending her letters, she’s not sure how her grandma figured it out but she hasn’t made up her mind about whether she’s happy with it or not. Her heart hurts when she thinks of the lakehouse, how she hadn’t been able to go this year. Regardless of her feelings, she still sits at her desk every night and writes the perfect response to Oikawa’s letters. She sometimes sends little trinkets she thinks he’ll like and he’ll send back pieces of sea glass or a piece of coral. The space on her desk begins to fill quickly. 

She enjoys the little letters they exchange because although she’s not with him it’s like she can still smell the sea and hear his laughter in her mind if she closes her eyes it’s like she can picture herself laying on the dock with a warm body next to her own, knuckles just grazing against each other slightly and not making motions to move further. The quiet breaths she can almost hear over the buzz of bugs and the croaking of frogs. She misses the sticky air and the words that hang in the air and her grandma’s cooking. She misses her sea breeze. 

The weather grows colder and she finds the letters coming slower and fewer. Soon they stop altogether and her mind starts straying from pretty eyes and prettier smiles. She finds herself trying to latch on to anything that she thinks she can keep. She finds safety in art, in making something from the ground up, she enjoys the chalk that stains her fingers and the paint that litters her clothes and winds up on her cheek. Her sketchbook is filled with scales and pretty brown eyes, it’s filled with landscapes of the sea and a creaky old dock with a hill behind it. Of sea gem bracelets and seashell necklaces. 

She finds herself driving to the sea more often than she thought she would. She sits there for hours on the beach and just looks towards the horizon, smelling the air and listening to the birds chirp and the children laugh. She finds the cold air nostalgic in a way, the breeze hitting her cheeks and making her nose run. She wraps a cardigan around herself to sit on the rocks for longer. The sting of the wind is a familiar friend and is almost as familiar as the sting in her eyes. She doesn’t bother wiping the tears away, she has grown to the familiarity of them rolling down her cheeks as she tries to keep her breathing level. It’s a failing attempt and she lets out a dry cough. “I didn’t think I would miss you this much this soon.” 

The day her bracelet breaks is the day she stays home from school and doesn’t move from her bed. There are parts of chipped gems embedded into the carpet of her floor, when she gets up to grab water she cuts her foot on one of the pieces. She pulls the shard out with a pair of tweezers but can feel it already cemented in place and forever a part of her. A part of the sea will be with her. 

She finds it in her the following day to tediously pick the pieces out of her carpet. She steals the superglue from the junk drawer in the kitchen and spends the rest of the day gluing them back together. It’s not the same as it was before but she makes a pair of earrings and a hair clip. The cord holding them together is beyond saving. She wonders as she clips her hair back how Oikawa is doing, if he misses her like she misses him. She hopes the answer is yes, hopes that she lives in his mind as much as he lives in hers. 

“Where are you,” her words die like a whisper in the wind. Realistically she knows where he is, the same place he has been that she hasn’t. She feels her phone buzz in her pocket and sighs as she stands up, the wind almost blows her over as she gets up on unsteady feet. She makes it to her car and sits with her head against the horn of the wheel for a few moments. She drives home fifteen minutes later, she’s unsure of where the time passed. It’s been doing that a lot, jumping around and hiding from her when she’s not looking. 

Her keys clatter against her wooden dresser, it’s covered in paint; some of it peeling off already as she hadn’t wanted to seal it in place. She needs to get a new carpet but that means letting go of the pieces she couldn’t find but knows are there. There’s a lot of things she needs to do but hasn’t. She’s tired.

iv.

The day of her graduation is the next time she sees the lakehouse. Her home in the process of being sold as her mother has to move yet again for her job. This time she won’t be pulled along every which way. She doesn’t let go of her grandma for what feels like hours, just basks in her warmth and honey smell. She gets pushed off weakly and her grandma shakes her head. “Quit that, people will think I’m dying if you keep that up,’ she sends her a wink and Y/N finds herself laughing. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Her grandma lets out a hearty laugh and bumps her hip lightly. Her legs want to pull her to the door leading down a familiar path but she refrains. There’s no chance he’ll be there or want to talk to her. She hadn’t realized how long she had been looking at the door until her grandma speaks up.

“Go see him,” there’s love in her eyes as the two make eye contact. She motions with her head to the door. 

“He won’t want to see me,” she turns her head away and her grandma shakes her head. 

“He’s been waiting for you, said that’s why he stopped sending letters. To force you to see him.” 

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Don’t leave him waiting for too long dear, love like that may not be fickle but it’s difficult to care for when there’s no one helping you.”

“Okay,” instead of going to the dock she locks herself in her old room. Her yellow rain boots sit in the corner and her vanity is still as she left it. There’s a printed photo of her with Oikawa hanging in the top right corner, the edges are curled and it’s entirely too bright but it’s obvious to her what it is. There’s pearls and rocks, and all kinds of trinkets she remembers Oikawa bringing her and her rushing back up the hill squeaky boots and all to give him something in return.

“A kiss will do,” he jokes and presents his cheek to her. She laughs and pushes his head away.

“In your dreams,” she sticks her tongue out at him and trips slightly on the wood as she races up and over the hill. He had grown used to the sight, of her ponytail bouncing as she ran over that grassy hill. He wishes he could go with her but he knows he can’t, he’s fine with how things are. Both of them here and happy. Comfortable, just with each other.

Her hands comb over the old stacks of homework she hadn’t gotten to throwing out before her move. Her stuffed animals are still on the bed and her bed is made with the same pink sheets that they had 8 years ago. There’s decals on her wall of sea creatures and she remembers painting a fish near her bed (she hadn’t quite figured out how human anatomy worked yet). She smiles as her hands trace over the slightly raised surface, her head laid on her pillow and her hair furled out around her. She felt at home again. 

She doesn’t end up going to the dock. She avoids it while she moves her stuff and the only box left to unpack is the letters. It stays taped shut and in a corner in her closet. 

v.

“You’ll never make a living this way darling,” the words are already festering as she eats lunch with her mother. “I mean really? Art is a hobby not a living.” Her mother’s tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth as she brings her cappuccino up to drink it. “Go get a degree in something useful.”

“I like what I do.” Her grip on her fork tightens but she does her best to keep her voice level.

“A children’s book? And about a mermaid? I mean, this just isn’t going to sell enough for you to live off of. You don’t want to mooch off your poor grandmother for the rest of your life do you?” Her teeth grind against each other and she shoves another bite of food in her mouth to keep herself quiet. “Come on darling, I’m just thinking about what’s best for you.” Her mother’s hand rests on top of her own across the table. She turns her head away and pulls her hand back. “Oh, don’t be like that.”

“Art is what I want to do Mom, I want to be an artist. I am an artist.”

“You’re just someone with too many thoughts and access to paint. Talk to me again when you let go of this silly ‘dream’ of yours.” Her mother wipes her mouth and throws some bills on the table before walking out the door. She stays there until the waitress comes and she pays the rest of the bill. Her walk home is cold, the heat of the air not doing anything for her. She pours all of her frustration into her art. By the end of the day she has two books drafted out and they’re sent to a publishing company. 

She finds herself on the dock with the conch in her hand, she flips it over and brings it up to her mouth. Her forehead rests against the shell as she sighs, this isn’t what he meant when he said to use it if she needed him. She does need him, she’s missed him more than she’s allowed herself to. Without another thought she blows into the shell, nothing happens for a little while but then she sees a shimmer in the water. 

“Hi,” she doesn’t need to look from where she now lays on the dock to know he’s there. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” There’s a plop as he lifts himself to lay next to her. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really. Do you?”

“Not really.” They sit there with their knuckles grazing each other and she doesn’t have the energy to make comments on how nice he looks, she turns to him and puts her head on his chest and he wraps an arm around her. “Let’s just stay like this for a bit.”

“Yeah,” she starts. “Yeah, I would like that.”

In six months time, before her birthday, the books are put on shelves and when she sees them in libraries she can’t help but smile. She signs any copy that someone brings her. Six months after that the second book comes out. Her grandma throws her a small party when she comes back home. “I’m so proud of you,” she’s pulled into a tight hug. “Go tell him,” her grandma ushers her out the door and she laughs a little. 

The conch has become a way for her to ask to see him instead of a danger tool. He doesn’t complain and tells her how he enjoys seeing her again. “I did it,” she whispers as her head rests on his shoulder. 

“You did,” he whispers it gently into her hair like a kiss. 

“Thank you for coming back.”

“I didn’t leave.”

“Turns out you were the one waiting for me,” it’s meant to be a joke but she knows he sees through it when his hand rubs up and down her arm slowly.

“Always.” 

“I got you something,” she lifts her head and sees his smile as he shakes his head. He’s grown into his face, his tan has evened out and there’s a trail of freckles on his shoulders and down his arms. “You can’t say no.” He laughs and it still makes her think of the sea breeze. He’s still the place she feels most calm. 

“Okay, let’s see it.” She reaches into her satchel and it reminds him of the girl he used to know. The girl with a missing front tooth and a lisp, whose pony tail bobbed as she ran up the hill away from him, the one who rummaged through her bag and gave him something he wasn’t aware would be so dear to him. She pulls out a plastic bag and he can’t help how his smile grows. 

“I know you fixed it but…I wanted you to have a better one. Not something I bought at a bookfair for cheap.” The chain is golden and the seashell hanging from it is different from the one he’s since turned into a bracelet. It’s a conch shell and he shakes his head. He carefully puts it on and he wants to kiss her so badly he leans forward, she shifts closer to him too but he pulls her into a hug. His face is buried in her hair and he takes a deep breath. Lemongrass and lavender. 

“Thank you for coming back.”

“Thank you for waiting.”

vi.

“You never told me what you wrote the book on.” He asks as her feet dangle over the edge and his arms rest on the end of the dock. 

“Us,” she finds no reason to be embarrassed although she can feel her face burning. He laughs and she finds a smile appearing on her face as he does so. “Stop laughing, what’s so funny?”

“How did we get turned into a children’s book?” He looks at her with a lopsided smile and she leans down closer to him. Their foreheads close to touching and a piece of her hair falls from behind her ear. 

“Remember all those games we made as kids?” He tucks the stray strand of hair behind her ear and she can see his eyes looking at her lips before darting back up to her eyes. “The ones where we were pirates or royalty?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly as he tries to force himself to stop looking at her lips, it’s difficult when she looks so excited. There’s a hammering in his chest and he wants to hide away. The gold chain feels tighter than usual as it sticks to him from the water. “That’s what you wrote about?”

“Yeah, you were all I could draw for a while.”

“Couldn’t keep me off your mind?” He teases and pokes her arm.

“No,” she answers honestly. She’s been growing tired of their game but wasn’t sure how to stop it. She took the opening he gave her and can only hope this goes well. She sees his eyes widen and his lips part as a sharp intake of air makes his chest rise up. 

“Can I kiss you?” Finally, she nods her head and he wraps his hand around the back of her neck and pulls her down to his lips. They both smile into the kiss and have to part as she starts giggling. Once it happens a few times he can’t stop himself from laughing with her as he kisses her face. “Stop giggling,” he says between laughs. He doesn’t really want her to stop, her laugh reminds him of home. 

“I can’t,” she throws her head back with a laugh and he thinks she couldn’t look any more beautiful than she does at this moment. She’s not aware of what happens until there’s a splash and she feels water encompass her. She swims to the surface and splashes him. “How dare you!” 

They splash around in the water and once they’re out of breath he reaches up and wipes the wet strands away from her face. “I love you.” It’s the first time they’re said the words but not the first time they've felt. 

“I love you too, even if you do pull me into the water for no good reason.”

“Because I wanted you to be closer. I think that’s a pretty good reason.”

“Okay, I’ll accept it. But only because you’re cute.” 

“Gee thanks,” he rolls his eyes and it’s an odd feeling for her feet to brush against the scales of his tail. She enjoys hearing his heartbeat below her ear as they wade in the water. “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” She hums in response and lifts her head from his chest. “I’ve always wanted to dance with you.”

“And how is that going to work?”

“Hold your breath,” she shakes her head but follows his instructions. The quiet envelopes her as their heads drop below the surface. Her eyes open slowly and she can see Oikawa already smiling at her, he holds his hand out to her and she takes it. He’s able to spin her around once before she tries to go back up for air, he shakes his head and pulls her closer to him. She tilts her head and he brings their lips together as he blows air into her mouth. She smiles at the kiss and they stay under the water for a little longer before she breaks the surface. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” She laughs although her chest heaves up and down from exertion.

“You liked it.”

“Okay, it was a little fun.” She coughs into her arm and he helps her over to the ladder of the dock and watches as she holds on to it. 

“You can hold onto me.”

“I know, I am. I won’t let you go this time.”

“You better not.”

“Why not going to wait for me again?”

“I would always wait for you, no matter how long. I just don’t think I can let you go now that I actually have you.” She smiles and pulls him into another kiss. “Oh do I get kissed if I say cheesy things?”

“Shut up,” she says against his mouth as he smiles and complies as he kisses her back.

taglist (gen, fill out this form) @cheriisae @cherrysurf @hiraethwa @hatsukeii @szyvrue

this is not only for lalechingo but more importantly for @lale-txt since it's her birthday today <333 everyone go wish her a happy birthday and I hope you guys enjoyed this story I told <3

[marvelrivalsimagines]

Relationship Headcannons

Characters: Iron Fist, Luna Snow, Squirrel Girl

Prompt: One requester asked for Iron Fist and Squirrel Girl general relationship HCs and another asked for Luna Snow relationship HCs, so I put all three character headcannons into one post :)

Author’s note: When it comes to relationships HCs there’s so many things you can talk about! I know I didn’t cover every aspect of these relationships in the HCs but I also didn’t want this to get annoyingly long lol. I hope everyone enjoys this, especially the requesters!

Warnings: Brief mentions of chronic pain in Iron Fist’s section

While Lin has an outwardly laid-back attitude it would be a mistake to assume that this means he takes everything in his life casually. When Lin commits to something he dedicates his entire body and spirit to it and this includes your relationship. Any challenges your relationship might face, whether it’s an argument between the two of you or the time stream entanglement itself, Lin is ready to do whatever it takes to keep you in his life. 

Aside from his dedication to fighting for your relationship Lin is also dedicated to fighting for you. While there’s a lot to adjust to in his new role as the Iron Fist helping people and standing up for others is something Lin has always believed in. With him around you have the most supportive cheerleader who’s there for you in moments where you may be struggling. Whether you need someone to just listen to you vent for a moment or you’d like him to step into a situation to help you out Lin is more than willing to help. Real “they said no pickles on their burger” energy. 

When it comes to PDA Lin is comfortable with almost anything. While other people might shy away from PDA due to embarrassment, Lin is just too caught up with you to ever turn down a kiss or a hug in public. While he might get a bit red in the face if you really go over the top with your affections, Lin appreciates every moment of your attention that he gets. 

Lin’s main love language is physical touch. As mentioned before, Lin has no problem with PDA so when the two of you are alone you both can really indulge in each other's touch. It’s just something that comes so naturally to him; placing a hand around your waist as you both stand in the kitchen or wrapping the both of you up in the same blanket before starting up a movie. 

Lin was living a normal life before becoming the Sword Master and then Iron Fist. While he is up to these new challenges life has suddenly thrown at him, it can sometimes be a lot to take in and can cause Lin to be overwhelmed or stuck in his own head for a bit. So aside from the affection he gets from your physical touch, it can also be extremely grounding for him to be hugged or held by you. It pulls him out of his worries and back into the present with you. 

Lin also deals with chronic pain from the fragments of his sword that are embedded in his hands. He’s come up with his own routines to try to alleviate that pain, and methods of coping with the pain when it is particularly bad. It may take some time for Lin to feel comfortable with being vulnerable enough to show you just how much this affects him. But, if you offer to help him whenever you notice he’s experiencing more pain than usual, and especially if you take the time to learn how he manages his pain and help him in those routines, Lin swears he’s never felt more seen or loved. 

While it’s impossible to completely alleviate his pain, for Lin it’s more about knowing that someone truly cares for him, and that while he puts his body on the line to save others you’re thinking about how to help him. The fact that you’re willing to put aside this time in your day and put all of your focus into this moment just to try to temporarily help with some of his pain makes his love for you grow even stronger. 

When it comes to date night and spending time together Lin has a preference for more relaxed activities and places. As the protector of K’un-Lun he spends his day, figuratively and literally, running around the city and fighting crime. For as much energy as Lin has, even he comes home tired most days after his duties as Iron Fist are finished. And there’s nothing better for sore muscles than cuddling with you on the couch and putting on some cheesy comfort movie. 

After an especially rough or tiresome day Lin would, figuratively, cry tears of happiness if he came home to a home cooked meal made by you. It doesn’t have to be anything complex or worthy of a michelin star, just knowing that you were thinking of him like this while he was gone touches his heart. As a hero spends his days protecting others, it means a lot to be cared for in return. 

In terms of a date night out, I can see Lin being the kind of person who’s more adventurous with his food tastes. He’d enjoy going to a restaurant with you that’s advertising some new food that’s either really spicy, is a type of food you don’t get often where you live, or has some unusual ingredients. He’s going to be joking around the entire time hyping up his excitement to try this new food. And when it finally gets to the table he’s going to play up his reaction to try and make you laugh. 

Lowkey I also think that Lin is the kind of person who eats his food really fast. Like you go out to dinner with him and while you’re just three bites into your food he’s already done. Then he’s looking at your side of fries like “Are you gonna finish that? 😳”

Having his significant other also be a hero would be fun and exciting, but it also might cause some worries for Lin. Lin would really enjoy training with you, learning about your skills and powers, and potentially thinking of ways he can learn from you by incorporating some of your tips into his own fighting style. He would also really enjoy being able to open up to you about some of the struggles of being a hero, like the pressure you put on yourself or how to cope when things don’t always go right. He’d really appreciate that his partner can truly understand these struggles. I can also definitely see Lin starting a relationship with someone he first met as a hero, probably a hero he’s looked up to simped for for some time. 

But at the same time, Lin has some insecurities about his title as the Iron Fist. Lin knows he’s earned this title and that he's just as much of an Iron Fist as those who have come before him, but there are still so many heroes who question him and compare him to Danny Rand (cough cough that Moon Knight voice line). This causes some worries to creep in; did you ever interact with Danny as a hero? Do you ever think about how Lin compares to the previous Iron Fists? 

If you’re fighting alongside each other in a fight, Lin is of course concerned for you but trusts you to be careful. His fighting style is highly mobile so he takes a ‘best defense is a good offense’ approach with the goal of taking out enemies before they become a problem for you. And even with that, he would still do his best to check in on you during the fight to make sure you’re doing okay. 

As much as Lin hates to see you hurt in any way, it’s comforting for him to get to patch up any cuts or bruises post fight. He cringes at the sight of your injuries, but the physical contact really assures him that you’re still alive and well.

Dating Luna Snow, or as you get to know her, Seol Hee, is surprisingly chill. No pun intended While it might be easy to think that the life of a K-Pop superstar would be all mansions and fast cars, it’s important to Hee that she never loses touch with the people around her. After all, the entire reason she wants to be both an artist and a hero is to help people. So when she comes back home to you from a sold out show, all she really wants to do at the end of the day is enjoy some time as a ‘normal person’. 

That’s not to say that there aren't certain benefits to dating a world famous super star, if you want to embrace that. As much as Hee enjoys the stage and the limelight she’s also experienced some of its drawbacks such as drama obsessed reporters and the ruthlessness of public opinion online. Going public about your relationship together would potentially pull you into all of that and Hee would never force you into that kind of life if it wasn’t something you were ready for. 

Whether you choose to embrace the attention or would like to keep the relationship private, Hee supports the decision and respects you no matter what. Either way, you’re getting a love song written about you. The only difference is if the rest of the world knows that the famous Luna Snow only has you in mind as she sings the lyrics. 

Levels of PDA would also depend on if your relationship is public, since kissing the pop star out in public would expose your relationship pretty quickly if you’re trying to keep things private. But even if your relationship is known to the public, Hee is pretty reserved when it comes to PDA. She’s comfortable with hand holding or a quick kiss to the cheek, but anything beyond that she’d like to keep in private. 

It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy your touch, she just enjoys keeping the physical intimacy between the two of you completely private. She would rather enjoy your touch at home where neither of you have to worry about how others may be watching or perceiving you and you can both be carefree about your love. 

Hee’s main love language is quality time. As both an international superstar and a super hero her schedule is filled to the brim. She rarely gets time to herself and sometimes when she does get a break from her pop stardom, she can be suddenly called into action as a superhero for an emergency. Hee has really learned the value of time, and her free time is especially precious to her. So it’s really a testament to how much she loves you when she chooses to spend that free time with you!

For as long as Hee has to wait to see you sometimes, she’s surprisingly open to do anything with you. For her, as long as she gets to be by your side it is definitely time well spent. Even if you just want to relax at home and do separate things, Hee is happy as long as she gets to enjoy your presence next to her. 

Again, with her down to earth nature, even the small, mundane things are special to Hee. Washing the dishes becomes a cherished memory as the two of you work together, teasing each other as Hee playfully splashes water on you or carefully places some of the bubbly soap suds on the tip of your nose. It’s your turn to tease Hee as the radio you turned on for some background noise starts to play one of her own hits, and you’re treated to a silly and lighthearted lip sync performance by the artist herself. 

Aside from the domestic nights at home, Hee does really enjoy the date nights the two of you plan where you both leave the home. She has a preference for beautiful, intimate date spots like dinner in a private booth at a restaurant or an evening of clothing shopping at local boutiques. 

Restaurants are one of the few places where Hee will flaunt her wealth a bit. What good is all the pop star money if she can’t use it to spoil you a bit? She ensures that both of you get to enjoy a private and gorgeous setting so you can simply focus on eachother, and maybe the picturesque skyline in front of you. She also might not say it out loud but Hee loves taking any excuse to see you dressed up in tailored formal wear. 

Speaking of, if the two of you go on a shopping date Hee absolutely loves taking you into the dressing room and making you try on endless outfits she’s picked out for you as you both have been walking through the store. As a pop star her sense of fashion is fine tuned to perfection, no matter what your personal style may be. Even if you have sensory issues with clothing, she tracks down the perfect piece that both accommodates your needs and compliments your figure. 

During the course of all of these dates Hee takes so many pictures of you so she can keep reminders of you while you may be away from each other. Her favorite photos of you are the candid ones where you look the most like yourself, though she also likes to occasionally ask others to take posed photos of the two of you together. She especially likes to do a lot of these ‘photo shoots’ right before she knows she’ll be especially far away, like if she is going to perform a concert in another country or if she knows her super hero duties will keep her away for an extended time. 

If you are also a superhero Hee is determined to make everyone realize what a power couple you two are. Hee works as both a pop star and a superhero because she wants to instill hope in people, so that people have something to keep them going in dark times. She would love to work alongside her partner to show the world that with both the strength of your powers and the strength of your relationship the two of you can conquer any threat and protect the hope that keeps humanity going. 

Hee would especially get a kick out of your superhero dynamic if you are the masked, quiet, and mysterious type of hero. Despite knowing the real you and that you’re much more complex than those three adjectives, the slightly mischievous side of Hee can’t help but play up the dynamic of the bubbly pop star and the brooding hero that others have placed you two into. The fans just love it!

If the two of you are fighting side by side, Hee is of course worried for your safety but she also has a lot of confidence in both of your skills. I mean, this is the woman who sassed Namor to his face while they were both standing right next to the ocean. She’s very confident in her own skills, and she knows that you’re great at your job as well. 

You’ve most likely fought side by side multiple times together, so it’s natural for the two of you to try and stick together during the fight. But if the two of you get separated for whatever reason, Hee makes sure to keep her eye on you in case you need any sort of help or healing. In a situation where multiple people on her team need healing, you’ll always get it first and she doesn’t really hide her bias. 

Doreen approaches your relationship like she does with everything in her life - with lots of excitement and optimism. With her there’s never going to be a time where you’ll doubt if this relationship is something Doreen truly wants. Even when she comes home from a long day of beating up super villains she still finds the energy to dedicate to you and your relationship.  

The relationship also tends to center around enjoying the now. Doreen is always in the moment, finding interest and excitement in what’s happening around her that day. With her optimistic outlook she doesn’t spend much time thinking about what might happen in the future. While it’s great to be with someone who reminds you to enjoy every day it also might be up to you to bring up important long-term topics, like if you two want to move in together. She’s not avoiding commitment or trying to duck out of tough conversations, she just finds it hard to worry about what you guys might be doing tomorrow when she has you in her arms right now!

Doreen is perfectly comfortable with PDA and if you’re comfortable with physical contact in public then Doreen will be initiating it a lot. She wouldn’t do anything crazy like make out with you in public though. Doreen enjoys the sweet honeymoon phase types of physical contact with you out in public, like resting her head on your shoulder or placing an arm around you while talking to other people. She especially loves to hold your hand out in public; on the crowded streets of New York City she’s gotta make sure you’re always right by her (and tippy’s) side! 

Doreen would also be the kind of person who enjoys giving you a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek or lips if you’re both enjoying some down time in public, like if you’re at a restaurant or just standing and waiting at a crosswalk together. But if you give her a kiss in public, you’ll get to see a flustered and blushing Doreen. No matter how long you two have been together, a quick, unexpected kiss in public has the power to completely derail her train of thought which is quite a feat. 

Doreen’s main way of showing love would be through her words. She loves to talk and that translates to a near infinite amount of compliments. Doreen’s compliments may not be poetry, but you can always tell that her words are genuine and come straight from her heart. Her lack of a filter can be a problem sometimes but when it comes to her sweet words for you it’s cute. 

Aside from getting lots of compliments you’ll also get every thought that comes to her brain. You’ll be doing some activity that doesn’t require 100% of your attention, like cleaning your room or cooking some dinner for the two of you, and Doreen will spend the entire time talking to you about the most random things. From what she spent her day doing, any hero activities she got up to, and the drama amongst the local wild squirrels; you’ll suddenly be an expert in it all with how much detail Doreen goes into while she’s talking to you.

And Doreen isn’t 100% aware that she does this. She’s not purposefully trying to distract you from what you’re doing or talk over you. If you have anything to add onto her stories she’ll be more than happy to hear your comments and jokes. In fact, knowing that you’re paying attention to what she’s saying and showing that you care about her thoughts just makes her fall even more in love with you

But back to why she talks so much. It’s just that Doreen loves you so much and she feels so comfortable around you that she can finally let all those hyperactive thoughts stored up in her brain out! She loves you, feels comfortable with you, and has a lot of thoughts about a lot of things so of course she’s just gotta let it all out around you. 

Doreen admittedly might struggle a bit if you sometimes need some silence, like if you’re overstimulated from the day or have a migraine. But she’s genuinely trying her best and is sincerely sorry if she’s too loud. As long as you communicate to her that you need some quiet Doreen will try to keep herself busy by either helping you out with whatever might be causing your need for silence or just doing her own thing until you’re ready to hear about what totally weird thing Tippy found in Central Park 

Because of Doreen’s seemingly endless energy she has a preference for dates where you two get to actively do something together, like maybe a trivia night at a restaurant/bar where she gets to show off her smarts or a quirky local business like an axe throwing place. 

There are lots of weird, interesting spots in New York and as a superhero who keeps her eyes peeled at all times Doreen knows about a lot of these places. So when it comes to date night Doreen is always full of suggestions. It’s honestly kind of impressive how she can almost always come up with some new place or activity that you two haven't done together yet. 

Out of all the places you two frequent together Doreen’s favorite recurring date spot is Central Park. There’s nothing Doreen loves more than to pack a homemade lunch with you and walk over to the massive and beautiful park to enjoy each other’s company and some nice weather. Some warm sunshine, squirrels chasing each other through the trees, and the comforting feeling of you resting up against her. What more could she ask for? 

That’s not to say that Doreen wouldn’t enjoy a quiet night in as well though. Squirrels get tired too, and sometimes a movie on the couch with some takeout is just what you need after a long day of beating up bad guys. 

If you’re a hero like Doreen she sees this as an opportunity to spend even more time together. She would love to go out on patrol together with you and it would honestly be a lot like hanging out with Doreen regularly. Her cheerful attitude really helps keep things light when you're fighting the insane villains of New York. 

If you’re in a major fight side by side, Doreen won’t baby you or try to tell you what to do but she’ll be trying her best to stick by your side. Just in case something starts to go wrong she wants to be by your side to make sure the two of you make it out okay. Doreen wouldn’t be able to forgive herself  if something happens to you while she could have intervened. 

Reassuring Doreen that you won’t be reckless and that you’ll always be looking out for each other will make her feel a lot better. While neither of you can guarantee the outcome, she just wants to know that no matter what happens during the fight you promise to come back home with her and Tippy.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Hello! I really like your writing! If it's not too much trouble, may I request headcanons for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who's like Yor Forger "Thorn Princess" from the anime Spy X Family? They can be human, demon, or both. That's up to you! Thank you very much!

Warnings: none

Navigation!!

Thorns

Alastor would be instantly captivated by someone as multifaceted as you. At first glance, your charm and grace would seem like traits he could admire from afar, but the hidden lethality beneath your poised demeanor would absolutely thrill him. He thrives on complexity and chaos, and discovering that you’re a master assassin would feel like unearthing a rare treasure. He wouldn’t be scared of you; if anything, he’d be delighted by the dark elegance you bring to your craft.

Your ability to compartmentalize—switching seamlessly between polite, unassuming behavior and deadly efficiency—would fascinate him. Alastor would likely notice your duality almost immediately. His supernatural intuition wouldn’t let him overlook the way you carry yourself, the way your body language shifts depending on the company you’re in. The moment he catches you in the act of your deadly work, he’d applaud. Not mockingly, but as though witnessing an artist at their peak. “My dear, such finesse! You’re not just effective—you’re graceful. How inspiring.”

He would become a strange sort of ally, neither fully interfering with your work nor staying entirely uninvolved. He’d enjoy giving you cryptic hints or sharing information about potential targets, just to see how you’d handle it. However, Alastor would never make things easy for you; he’d enjoy testing your adaptability, putting you in situations where you’d have to blend into Hell’s chaos while maintaining your cover.

Though Alastor isn’t the type to coddle or openly protect someone, he’d take a certain pride in your independence. The fact that you don’t need him to save you would make you all the more appealing to him. If anyone dared to exploit your moments of vulnerability or threaten you, he’d consider it a personal affront. His retaliation would be swift, theatrical, and completely over the top—if only to remind everyone that you are not to be trifled with.

In quieter moments, he’d revel in your company, intrigued by the glimpses of insecurity or self-doubt you might reveal. If you ever expressed guilt or questioned the morality of your dual life, Alastor would assure you in his own twisted way that your complexity is what makes you extraordinary. “A killer with a conscience,” he might say, chuckling. “You truly are one of a kind, my dear. Keep spinning your web of lies and blades—it’s a masterpiece in motion.”

On the other hand, Vox would be drawn to you for entirely different reasons. Your elegance and subtle charm would immediately catch his attention, but it’s your deadliness that would make him stay. Vox has a taste for flair, and someone who can blend lethal efficiency with grace would strike him as the perfect combination of danger and beauty. He’d see you as someone who can rival his own sharpness, and that would make him want to know everything about you.

When Vox discovers your identity as an assassin, he’d be stunned but impressed. “You? You’re the one who’s been taking out high-ranking demons? Damn, sweetheart, I underestimated you.” Vox would admire your ability to move unnoticed through high society, flawlessly maintaining your cover while eliminating targets. He’d want to be involved—not because he thinks you need help, but because he’s curious and enjoys the thrill of watching you work.

Vox would often offer to lend his expertise, suggesting ways to use his technology to make your missions easier. He’d insist on creating gadgets for you, like a weapon disguised as jewelry or a hidden communication device to keep in contact during your jobs. Though he trusts your skills, he’d feel better knowing he can watch your back, even from afar. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you’ve got this, but let’s just call it… insurance. For my sanity.”

He’d also be drawn to your softer side, finding your kindness and occasional awkwardness endearing. Vox would tease you relentlessly about how someone as sweet and polite as you could also be a deadly assassin, but there’d be an undertone of genuine admiration in his words. He’d especially enjoy watching you navigate situations where you have to switch between your personas, marveling at how effortlessly you transition from deadly to demure.

If you ever felt conflicted about your work, Vox would take a more reassuring approach. He’d remind you that the world is full of people playing roles, and yours just happens to be deadlier than most. “Everyone’s got a part to play, babe. You’re just better at it than the rest of us. Own it.” His support would come with a bit of playful arrogance, but his words would always carry sincerity.

Vox would be more protective than Alastor, though he’d try to mask it behind his usual bravado. He’d insist on being involved if he thought a job was too risky, even if it was just to make sure you had a backup plan. The idea of losing you would unsettle him more than he’d ever admit, so he’d channel that fear into ensuring you’re always prepared.

Both Alastor and Vox would find your duality irresistible, but their approaches to your relationship would be vastly different. Alastor would see you as a kindred spirit, someone whose complexity matches his own love of chaos and performance. Vox, meanwhile, would view you as the perfect partner in crime—someone who can keep up with his wit and energy while matching his flair for the dramatic. Both would respect your strength and independence, but they’d also take pleasure in the rare moments when you let them see the vulnerable side of yourself that you keep hidden from the rest of the world.

[livingformintyoongi]

🪷: Our Jimin and for the AU.... he works at an animal shelter and MC volunteered once- or she was supposed to- but she finds herself there anytime she's free these days

Just Another Good Deed | Park Jimin

Author’s note: Hello, my dearest husband's partner! Thank you so much for making the request, I really loved the idea <3 I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it ^^ (Really my favorite part was the moodboard, I loved it, patted myself on the back and everything). Pairing: Veterinarian!Jimin x Volunteer!Reader Word count: 1.8k Warnings/tags: Little appearance of big brother Yoongi because he is my bias wrecker and if I can get him in, I will :), and that's all, it's all very fluffy. Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthoughts Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You glanced one last time at the rearview mirror in Yoongi’s car, adjusting your hair for the fourth time. It was hard to decide which side looked better.

"Yoongi, quick, which looks better? Over my ears or tucked behind them?" you turned to him, arranging your hair both ways so he could carefully consider his options.

“It looks the same to me,” he mumbled in the same monotone voice he used, well, almost every day he spent time with you. “Besides, why does it matter? We’re going to an animal shelter, not a double date.”

You rolled your eyes, finally deciding on leaving your hair over your ears; it framed your face more beautifully, and the soft waves made it stand out even more that way. “I can look nice for the shelter if I want to. I don’t need some hidden agenda, you know?”

Ignoring your comment, Yoongi pulled out his car keys and stepped out. You weren’t surprised to see him coming around to your side of the car to open the door and help you out. Your brother might have been a man of very few words—and expressions—but your mom had raised him to be a true gentleman.

“Alright, come on, let’s move. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” you grabbed his arm and pulled him along, slightly slowing his pace as you approached the entrance. Just a few more steps, and you’d see him again. You had to bite the inside of your lip to stop yourself from smiling too soon.

Yoongi, keeping up with your pace with his usual calm expression, couldn’t help but notice the strange look on your face. He could understand you wanting to dress up to go out—that was fine, everyone liked to look good—but the fact that you’d been smiling the whole way here and that you’d been visiting this shelter every week—or any chance you got—made him think that maybe...

“Oh! Y/N, it’s you,” a cheerful voice said. The man wore a white shirt and black jeans—a terrible choice for working with animals, but that wasn’t his problem, so he ignored it. His dark hair fell gracefully over his forehead, and his plump lips gave him a sweet image that would definitely charm any woman—or man—who crossed his path.

Now everything made sense.

“Jimin, hi!” you quickly let go of Yoongi’s arm, giving the man in front of you the brightest smile you could muster. “It’s so nice to see you here—I mean, obviously you’re here, you work here, but you know, it’s always great running into you,” you said awkwardly, ending with a nervous laugh.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were the strangest creature in the world. It was the first time he’d seen you so nervous around a guy, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or get mad. What was a big brother supposed to do in these situations? Get jealous?

“Likewise, it’s really great to see you here so often. I’m grateful to have someone like you supporting the shelter,” Jimin said with a soft, charming smile. If you hadn’t been holding onto your brother’s arm, you might have collapsed right there. Were you being dramatic? Absolutely. Were you lying about it? Absolutely not. His simple gaze already made your legs weak, and his smile? Don’t even mention it.

The small gesture of your hands wrapped around Yoongi’s arm immediately caught Jimin’s attention. You’d never mentioned having a boyfriend, and you’d never come to the shelter with someone before. It was only natural to be curious, right? “And… who’s he...?”

“Yoongi,” your brother answered, straightening his back to appear taller and lowering his voice a few tones deeper than usual. “I’m her older brother. And you are?”

“Oh, sorry, how rude of me,” Jimin gave a slight bow before returning to his original stance, not without first running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back. Yoongi swore he heard you squeal. “I’m Park Jimin. I work here.”

“Yoongi, why don’t you go check out the cats?” you laughed nervously, wishing your brother would disappear so you could be alone with Jimin. “I heard Unnie mention she’d really like to have a cat at home.”

“She said that?” Yoongi turned to you so quickly that it startled you; you knew his girlfriend was his soft spot, and you would use it against him as often as necessary if it meant he would drop his overprotective older brother act. Plus, you knew enough about his girlfriend to be sure she’d love to have a cat.

“Yes, she says it all the time,” you nodded quickly, pushing him toward where you knew the cats were. You hoped that would keep him distracted for a few minutes. “Now go, hurry, don’t waste time.”

Both you and Jimin watched as Yoongi walked off, confused, looking for someone he could ask about the cats. Only when he disappeared from your sight did you turn back to Jimin.

“So… how can I help today?” you asked with a smile, feeling your chest flutter as he looked at you with those kind, gentle eyes. You probably needed to calm down if you didn’t want to get caught just yet.

“I didn’t know you had a brother; I thought he was your boyfriend or something,” Jimin said softly, chuckling as he watched the cat in front of them shake itself vigorously to get the water off its fur. It was cute—its coat was light-toned, and its blue eyes were so bright and big that it was impossible not to fall in love with it. This little cat had arrived at the shelter the same day you did; it was skittish, wouldn’t let anyone touch or feed it, and it was crucial to give it a check-up due to a possible infection in its left eye. Jimin had been the only one able to keep it calm and treat it properly so the infection could heal effectively.

Maybe that was the moment when you fell for him. There was something about the sweet and caring way he handled animals that made your heart race and your stomach churn.

“Well, I don’t talk much about my family when we’re together,” you said with a slight smile, preparing the towel to cover the cat and dry it. It was still cold outside, and it wasn’t ideal for the cat to get sick at this time of year.

“I’d like to know more about them,” he murmured softly, gently cleaning the cat’s ears. The cat—who still didn’t have an official name but whom you had called Taemin in your mind from day one—closed its big eyes and started purring, rubbing its head against Jimin’s soft touch. Ah, how much you wished you were a cat. “And more about you in general.”

You turned to look at him, feeling a wave of warmth rise to your face as you realized he had been looking at you all along. Damn Park Jimin, why did he have to be so handsome? You felt like throwing the stupid towel in his face.

“O-oh, really? Why would you want that? I mean, my life’s not that interesting and—”

“But I’m interested,” he said, taking the towel from your hands and letting his fingers brush against yours in a way that definitely wasn’t accidental. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time, and his damn lips were curved into a smile the whole time.

Calm down, Y/N, you can’t just go around kissing people without their permission—that’s not okay.

“Anything that has to do with you interests me. I thought that was obvious by now,” he said. After an intense staring match—which he obviously won—he wrapped Taemin in the towel and picked him up in his arms, one hand holding the cat’s weight to cradle him like a baby while the other rested on his furry head.

“Well, no, it wasn’t,” you replied awkwardly, trying to fully process whatever he was trying to tell you. Wasn’t it a bit presumptuous to think that meant he wanted something more with you? Had being single finally driven you crazy, making you see things that weren’t there? “Just so there’s no misunderstanding…” You rubbed your hands against your pants and looked at him expectantly. “Does that mean that…?”

Jimin let out a laugh before looking at you with his eyes turning into crescents from his smile. “It means I’d love to finally get your number.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Y-yes! Sure, g-give me your phone, and I’ll write it down right now,” you said, extending your hands toward him, trying to stop them from trembling so much and revealing how nervous you were. Too bad your body never obeyed your brain.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and handing it to you. His constant gaze on you made you even more nervous. You had to rewrite your number more than four times because you kept making mistakes. Both of you smiled when you called your number from his phone, and your ringtone sounded almost instantly.

Oh, shit. You had his number now.

“Y/N, let’s go!” Yoongi’s voice called from a few meters away. You were genuinely surprised to see that he actually had a small carrier in his hands, from which you could see two tiny green eyes staring at you from the darkness inside.

Its gaze looked a lot like Yoongi’s.

“Well, I guess you have to go,” Jimin said, adjusting Taemin in his arms as he watched Yoongi waiting for you near the exit. Truthfully, he didn’t want you to leave yet, but he understood he wasn’t in a position to ask you to stay, especially since you had come with your brother.

“Yeah, it seems like it,” you murmured, glancing briefly at your brother before putting all your attention back on Jimin. He had indirectly said he liked you, at least a little, right? And you had known each other for quite some time now… Well, you only live once, and you didn’t like living with regrets. You stepped closer to him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek—quite close to his lips—before stepping back and waving softly to say goodbye.

Then, you ran toward your brother as fast as you could, internally hoping he wouldn’t mention anything about it.

Ah, if only you had taken the time to notice Jimin’s face, you would have seen the bright pink covering his cheeks and the embarrassed smile spreading across his face like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

At least Yoongi had the luck to witness it, and he would definitely tease you endlessly about it.

Masterlist

[sassysnakedemon]

Sorry - it's been a while

So, I've been missing for a while. I had to take a break from socials of all kinds (although, tbh, I really only have tumblr and Ao3). There's been a lot of stuff happening. Trump getting re-elected was just the first brick in the wall (enjoy the Pink Floyd reference, if you like). I've been going through deep clinical depression, which is not unusual for me, but a real stop sign for social activity. I can cope, but only with a very basic amount of social activity, which includes 'real' relationships only, as those make my paycheck come through, where social media relationships do not put ramen on my table.

This sounds bleak, but on the plus side, prioritizing my real world activities has netted me a side gig that pays a hundo an hour for teaching the elderly to play the ukulele. That sounds like a joke, but it really isn't! And it's uniquely fun!!

I've also had to divest all of my investments that were made in the US, and transfer the funds to my bank up here in Canada - that took several days, and I was making sure to make it happen before the Inauguration took place. Luckily, I was able to make that happen, but I have a bunch of work to do now to make sure I can make some good investments in Canada instead. I would surely love to invest so properly that I actually become wealthy, and then I can start giving back in a really big way to the various communities that I so desperately want to support. But that's kinda first world problems, so I understand if you don't care about that! (I mean, my real dream is to become like Michael Sheen and just give up everything to help the people around me, and only keep that which I really need to live - unfortunately, with inflation and everything, what I have now is barely what I need to live for the next couple of years - and again, first world problems, but I have some plans - that don't include crypto - that might actually make it possible for me to turn what little I have into something big that could actually be life changing for the world around me)

On a far more personal note, I've finally made the decision (at the ripe old age of almost 48) to finally transition to male. I wanted to, like 30 years ago, but the LGB community was really unfair to trans people back then, so I spent the last almost 30 years trying so hard to be femme, when that's not what I am. I'm going for top surgery, as soon as I can lose enough weight to make it look good (I'm not enough overweight to have a problem with surgery, but enough that I wouldn't be happy with the results), and then we're on the road. If anyone wonders, my name now is Ezra - partly a cultural thing, and partly a Good Omens fan thing (if you know, you know), and I've gotten approval from everyone - friends, mother (and that was the hardest one, friends were all like 'yeah, we knew', but mom is a bit difficult) and best of all, my husband, who said 'I'm not much of a boob man anyway' in answer to my revelation. He also said that he couldn't live without me, no matter who, or what I was. That's something special right there! The plus is that I would be a gay man after transition anyway - never been really attracted to women in the first place, just didn't want to be one. So, I'm still wildly attracted to my husband of 20 years (this year in November - on Guy Fawkes Day, no less), but now I'm coming at the attraction as the man I've always been, rather than the woman I've been cosplaying for way too long. That's something, and it's been a big thing eating at my mind and soul for a long time. It's been keeping me from being completely open with everyone, and I apologize for that. But I had to wrestle with this particular demon one last time before I could rejoin the world.

I've also had walking pneumonia for the last month and a half, which does NOT make it easy to do anything, so I've been avoiding anything which isn't strictly necessary to do. I'm starting to recover though, so I will try harder now to rejoin 'all y'all', to make an appropriate Texasism, as I lived there for enough time to pick up the local jargon.

Suffice it to say that I will try harder to be a better friend to the friends I've made here, but give me a minute - I'm still finding my feet. And I've had a bit of trouble with the GO fandom, as I am finding it hard right now to hyper-focus on it when I've got so much else going on.

Can I say that the world sucks right now? Can I say to all of my friends here, and all of the friends that I'm yet to make, that I feel you, and will protect you? I am really feeling a sort of way, and it's hard to deal with. I wish the troubles were over, and that we could all sing together in fields of green - that we could love each other, even when we don't always agree. I would give anything, including the blood in my veins, for that future.

Sorry for the ramble - meds are partly to blame, but so is my depression - and my planning for a future I cannot see. I want to be engaged, but I'm finding it difficult. I want to be present for you, but that may not always be possible. I'm trying though, and I haven't forgotten any of the friendships I've made here - I'm just trying to be a better version of me before I come back and interact with everyone again!

@missunderstoodlyrics, @naturallyteal, @isiaiowin, @ilikeblue, @inezrable, @copperplatebeech,@phoen1xr0se, @di-42

[tokkiiibunny]

Chick Habit | Megumi Fushiguro

13: 7 Words

Words: 1.5 k

Mainlist

I think you shouldn't have glorified, now you're wrong

Suck, suck, suck, suck

Suck, suck, suck, suck

Oh boy...

A part of megumi still refused to accept that he had screwed up, he kept wanting to think that it was your fault, that you were no victim and that you definitely deserved everything he had done but deep down he knew that he had been a fucking idiot, that he had taken things too far and that he had been doing for years the same thing that your former friends did to Tsumiki.

Megumi Fushiguro never regretted it, but maybe and only maybe at this moment he was doing it.

The more days went by the more frustrated he became and maybe, and just maybe, he was wondering what would have happened if he had figured out the reality of things before spreading all that shit about you, what would have happened if that first day of school he had responded to your cheerful greeting with a simple "Hi." You weren't the only one who had been wanting to do things differently.

"Did they hide what happened with that girl? It was horrible." Tsumiki brought up the subject in the middle of dinner, she only knew the story halfway and did not know that her beloved brother had been responsible. "poor girl, Mrs. Linwood told me she was a good girl, with all this she must not be having a good time."

"Why don't you shut up, Tsumiki?" Megumi was rude all the time to everyone, but he rarely had that attitude with Tsumiki.

"Megumi." Satoru scolded him.

"And shut up too, you have no idea what happened, stop acting like you care." Satoru leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, watched Megumi for a moment, he had known him long enough  to know that something is wrong.

"That girl, Yn Yl I think, she was in your class wasn't she? Maybe you can explain to us better what happened." Megumi hated talking to Satoru because he always felt like he knew everything, most of the time it was difficult to keep Satoru's secrets hidden. Megumi got up from the table and left the house slamming the door behind him.

They didn't know shit, no one did, you were just a fucking crybaby and he could have been so much worse. But God, he couldn't get you out of his head.

Although for a long time he saw you as the "enemy", the time he spent with you, those times when he wasn't being a bitch with you, he had really enjoyed your company. 

Because that smile that he had tried so hard to convince himself that he hated was actually the most beautiful he had ever seen, In fact, you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

You were pretty, funny, intelligent, you were full of good qualities, you were like a dream but he had broken you and there was no turning back. 

If he had to count how many times he had dreamed of you, the fingers of his two hands would not be enough. And it would be a lie to deny that his mind was repeating the two kisses he had given you over and over again because he loved remembering the feeling of his lips on yours. You were soft and sweet, the complete opposite of him.

Lately he had wondered a lot if he hated you or if he was just completely and deeply obsessed with you.

Yuji hadn't approached him since the Halloween party and Megumi really missed him but his pride prevented him from trying to talk to his best friend, Yuji missed him too but he was still angry about everything Megumi had done.

He was walking aimlessly, he was just trying to clear his head and forget about the small conversation he just had at home, he cursed that he didn't bring anything with him to help relax him.

The air was cold and his sweater wasn't helping to keep him warm But he refused to go home, he didn't want Satoru to question him again because he knew that he would sooner or later get into the truth.

That day he did not return until midnight and when he opened the door Satoru was on the sofa waiting for him.

"Where were you?"

"Don't start."

"Sometimes you forget who is in charge in this house." Satoru didn't seem to be playing at this time, even if his attitude was almost always playful and teasing, he looked Upset now.

"You're not my fucking dad Satoru." Megumi immediately cursed himself for saying that, but it was too late and he could only keep his defiant attitude as much as possible.

"I know." Tension filled the room, Satoru paused for a long time before continuing. "I know I'm not." Satoru preferred to keep his words to himself, he knew that anything he had to talk to him would be useless at this moment. "Go to your bedroom, it doesn't matter anymore."

That night was no different from the others where sleeping was almost impossible, now he was not only thinking about you and Yuji but he was also thinking about how he had been an ungrateful son of a bitch with the only two people who had taken care of him, Tsumiki and Satoru were his only family and yet he treated them like shit every time he was angry.

Sometimes he questioned why he was like that, what was wrong with him, to say that he hated himself would be too kind For what he really felt.

He was a cruel bastard too proud to admit his mistakes out loud, a motherfucker who every time he felt someone too close showed his worst side to puch them away.

The next morning he go downstairs to the kitchen And it probably wouldn't have been much different from any other day if it weren't for the very strange but recognizable figure that was on the couch between Satoru and Tsumiki.

Toji Fushiguro was like a blurry memory in megumi's mind, Although his voice was more than present in his mind because of all the calls he had received over the years, the way he looked was distorted among his memories.

He was strangely similar to him, Satoru had always told Megumi that he looked like his mother but he was also so similar to Toji that his stomach churned to, he didn't want to look like that man.

"Megumi." Satoru looked tense, in reality none of the three of them seemed too comfortable with the situation. "Sit down."

"What is he doing here?" but Megumi didn't try to hide his displeasure.

"Just Please Megumi." Satoru wanted to make things easier and although he knew that talking to Megumi would be useless, he tried to make him come to his senses.

"No. What is he doing here?"

Toji sighed and got up from the sofa, his expression far from the violent and strong face that Megumi remembered but still she was not going to trust him easily.

"I came to get my family back."

"You don't have any family here."

"Megumi." Satoru called out him.

"No, He's only here because he's old and finished, he doesn't give a fuck about his family, he doesn't give a fuck about changing."

"Just listen to him, Megumi."

"Shut up Tsumiki. Shut up, you three."

Megumi didn't go back to home that day, he didn't answer any calls, he hated Toji, he hated Satoru for accepting him into his house, and he hated Tsumiki for accepting back his father.

He felt stressed, tired and angry, he was fed up with everyone and couldn't leave his room because his fucking father was in the living room and didn't want to see him. After thinking about it a lot, he sent you a text message, he wanted to talk to you, he missed spending the afternoons in your bedroom.

You never responded, you didn't even receive the message, you had blocked Megumi's Contact.

Megumi was eating his breakfast when Toji arrived at the kitchen and patted Megumi on the shoulder.

"Are you going to talk to me, kid?"

"Never. touch. me. again." He got up from his chair with the intention of going back to his room but his father stopped him.

"Megumi, I really want to talk to you."

"But I don't want to. Look, I don't care about you, I don't want you in my life and you're never going to be my father. I lived without you up to this point and I prefer to continue doing so." Toji had never been present in his life, he didn't need him and he didn't care if this time he would change, he wasn't her father and never would be.  "I don't care what shitty story you tell me this time, but I don't want you to try to talk to me."

Notes area:

>Comments, suggestions and feedback are welcome

>Thanks for reading!

Taglist:

@soobinbunnie5 @anonymity-222 @hanakalovesbnha @starrysho @sylussss7 @Shortcakebbg @Szired @briezy04764

[wajjs]

I’m a bit curious on Hal’s personality in his depictions. From what I know is that early hal was headstrong, cocky, kind of a goofball, and detached (dissociating away his fear and averse to commitment). This seems to be the version of Hal that most people write.

But then there’s the whole Parallax thing, and the Spectre run. I don’t know much about it but it seems hal gets a lot more subdued and melancholy as the spectre. And then after that he comes back as flesh and bone.

So what is he like at the end of that?

Pre-Johns and pre-Parallax Hal tended to be more happy go lucky, stupid, and generally doe eyed hopeful "the system that fucked me over once definitely won't do it again!" type of man. He was also entitled at times. But this is mostly true up until around the time of Hard Traveling Heroes, which is when he starts to be heartbroken and melancholic, traits that persist until the climax of Emerald Twilight.

A lot of people say Emerald Twilight came from nowhere and I disagree. I think those people weren't paying attention, because all the signs were there. Hal had been steadily becoming more disillusioned and melancholic through the 70s and 80s until we get to the 90s, where that heartbreak gets amplified to the nth degree. Hal didn't go from stupid to mad with grief without a transition period in the middle. But a lot of people think once a run from x writer ends, it no longer counts for the next one, and so they say the tragedy came from nowhere.

At the very start of the 90s, Hal has a lot of suicidal ideation going on. The run itself begins with him more or less saying "There’s nowhere else to go" (paraphrasing) and throwing himself off a cliff. He waits until he's almost crashing head first into the ground to pull himself out of there using his ring. He's flirting with the thought of death.

He is also self sabotaging. He pulls back from everyone and turns himself into a homeless man who lives on the road because he's looking for a sense of self, a meaning to life he has lost. He becomes a seasonal worker because he needs something to do, but those jobs never last because the life he's trying to leave behind (in the shape of Guy Gardner) keeps metaphorically knocking on the door and dragging him back to Green Lantern.

Even when he comes back, he chooses to do solitary things. For example: exploring space to recruit more GLs, that keeps interactions to a minimum. It's all things that are brewing in a pressure cooker that blows up when Coast City is destroyed in front of Hal's eyes and the hero community drops the ball. Hard.

They all say well, it’s not MY city. They all say get over it. Clark goes and creates a monument using scraps of the very bomb that killed everyone and everything Hal knew all his life, and immediately after that Clark is in Metropolis enjoying the sun and saying aaaaah. what a nice day.

And Hal doesn't snap immediately. The tension is there, but at first he does try to keep it together until it becomes impossible. He tries to reconstruct Coast City, but there are limits to what the ring can do. The one thing he could depend on, his will power, is not enough. He is not enough. His grief and anger become so big that his mind just... fractures. He snaps. No one's listening and no one's helping, so he will take matters into his own hands and make. it. right.

This Hal is angry. This Hal has a heart with a hole that threatens to kill him at any moment but he endures because he cannot die until he does what needs to be done. This Hal refuses the help that comes too late, he has killed his friends, he has destroyed the corps, he has killed Sinestro. Kyle arrives like a lighthouse in the middle of the storm but for Hal it's too late because he has driven his ship into the cliff and is letting it sink with himself still in it.

He is mad at himself and mad at the world for failing Coast City and all the innocent lives lost. He almost becomes a god, and is perceived as a god by some due to the power he now possesses. There are moments when clarity hits him and the old wounded heartbroken Hal shows his face, and he is dying. His pain is so palpable. His anguish. The old Hal wants help. But Parallax Hal does not want to be saved.

Of course, the status quo changes with the events of Final Night. Hal sacrifices himself to save the Earth. He sees that only in death will his anger stop, and he sees that he's the only one who can do what no one else could do for Coast City. It's a no brainer. He sacrifices himself and burns himself to a crisp reigniting the sun. Hal doesn’t expect to come back. He doesn’t want to come back. This is HIS final night.

Unfortunately, The Spectre had other plans. His anger morphs into straight up depression because now he is alive enough to deal with the outcome of what he did as Parallax. He has to live with the tragedy of what he lost and the tragedy of what he did. Few people stand by his side and want to give him a chance. Very few people recognize there's good in him. Most want to see him dead and gone. He himself wants to be dead and gone. Helen, his niece, being there definitely helps him not lose it, not lose himself. She is his hope. She is the innocence he lost and he will never get back.

After all of this, he is more grounded, mature. Still melancholic. Still haunted by everything that happened. He is cocky, of course, and self assured, because at the end of the day those are the things he can cling to with some sort of safety net. But they're also things he uses to keep the raw wounds hidden.

Post Johns? Yeah like more than half of this is lost because Hal’s the greatest hero ever and he can do no wrong. He is headstrong, overconfident, cocky, and ultimately good, but he is missing like half of his soul.

[mj-iza-writer]

In honor of @weirdthingweee who is excitedly waiting for snow to fall where they live. Thing, I'm hoping you get the snow you want so you can do all the fun things you've been talking about. Hope you and everyone enjoy this story.

Whumpee leaned against the back of the couch and stared out of the window.

"Caretaker?", Whumpee turned sadly.

"Yes Whumpee", Caretaker looked up from their work.

"Do you think it will snow soon?", Whumpee frowned.

"I don't know Whumpee. Maybe you're making it nervous. You've been watching out that window all evening", Caretaker smiled.

"I can't help it... I really want it to snow", Whumpee fell sideways onto the couch cushions.

"Careful", Caretaker warned, "that's a good way to fall off of the couch and get hurt. Then what will you do? You can't play in the snow if you're hurt."

Whumpee peaked out the window again, "please snow", they whispered a prayer.

"Well, my dear, I do believe it is time for all Whumpees to go to bed", Caretaker set their work aside, "maybe you will get some snow in the morning. Then I will have to shovel.... yeppy."

"You don't like the snow?", Whumpee pouted.

"Not as much as you do, but I will be happy for you to get some snow, and I will happily clean it up if it means you are happy", Caretaker stood, "come on, it's time for bed."

"Whumpee.... goodmorning", Caretaker gently shook Whumpee.

"Mmm", Whumpee whispered, "good morning."

"Whumpee, I need you to listen very carefully to me... okay", Caretaker moved some of Whumpee's hair out of their face.

"Mmm... hmm", Whumpee blinked slowly, then yawned.

"Whumpee, I need you to get up and get ready for today. Remember to wear something warm. Please do not look outside yet. I will tell you when you can look", Caretaker smiled, "do you understand?"

"Yes Caretaker... I understand", Whumpee looked around tiredly.

"I have breakfast almost ready. So you can come right down", Caretaker stood.

Caretaker had just started plating breakfast when they heard Whumpee walk into the wall.

"Ow", Whumpee giggled from the floor.

"Didn't see the wall there?", Caretaker peaked out at them, "what are you doing?"

"Keeping my eyes closed. You normally have the curtains open, and said not to look", Whumpee kept their eyes covered.

"You're alright, I have everything shut still. Thankyou so much for listening though", Caretaker helped them up.

"Did it snow?", Whumpee giggled.

"Breakfast is ready. Come along", Caretaker led them into the kitchen.

Whumpee sighed.

"Maybe it will snow while you eat breakfast and take your medicine", Caretaker talked over their shoulder.

Whumpee huffed.

Caretaker waited until Whumpee's last bite.

"Alright I got your medicine in you, and you have eaten. You may now look outside", Caretaker stood and started clearing the table.

Whumpee jumped up and ran for the couch. They tucked their head in between the two curtains and peered outside.

"Caretaker....it snowed", Whumpee yelled.

"I know... why do you think you had to wait?", Caretaker called as they filled up their coffee mug, "you wouldn't have eaten and taken your medicine for me otherwise."

"Can we go outside?", Whumpee yelled excitedly.

"You need to get your coat on", Caretaker quietly talked from behind, "hat, scarf, and gloves are also required."

Caretaker tied Whumpee's snowboots while Whumpee put their gloves on.

"Alright just about ready to play", Caretaker popped a hat onto Whumpee and tucked their ears in, "there, no getting cold on my watch", Caretaker smiled.

Whumpee bounced in front of the door while Caretaker got into their coat and gloves.

"Alright Whumpee", Caretaker opened the door and watched Whumpee run into the winter wonderland.

Whumpee instantly climbed onto the ground and slid through the snow.

Caretaker laughed at Whumpee's excitement.

They then sighed at the state of their driveway and car though.

"Well, I guess it won't clean itself", Caretaker carefully walked to their shed to get what they needed.

Whumpee continued to roll around until the entire backyard was covered in their tracks. They then followed Caretaker to the front yard to play.

"Are you feeling cold?", Caretaker looked up at them after shoveling a bit more.

"I'm okay", Whumpee sniffled some.

"Here, come get a tissue. Don't suck that up into your nose", Caretaker pulled a pack from their pocket.

"Will you help me make a snowman", Whumpee grinned after they blew their nose.

"Yes, I'm about done with this. How about you get started. I'll join in a few minutes", Caretaker grinned.

Whumpee nodded and quickly ran for the fresh snow.

Whumpee had finished rolling a part of the snowman by the time Caretaker came up from putting the shovel away.

"Good job", Caretaker knelt down and started to pack snow for the midsection, "I haven't made a snowman in a long time."

"I haven't either", Whumpee started to roll the ball for Caretaker.

"I'll start the head now", Caretaker started to whistle.

Caretaker handed Whumpee a few sticks, some rocks, and a carrot to decorate the snowman.

"Go ahead and decorate them", Caretaker sat down and watched, "we will have to go in after this though. We've been out here for a while."

"I don't want to though", Whumpee frowned as they stuck carrot into the snowman's face for the nose, "I'm having to much fun."

"I know you are Whumpee, but you are shaking. It's time to get some warm dry clothes on. How does some hot chocolate sound?", Caretaker smiled, "here let's take a picture for memories."

Whumpee sadly followed Caretaker inside.

"Cheer up, we can play outside again. We need to listen to our bodies though, and our bodies are saying it's to cold", Caretaker pulled their coat off before helping Whumpee.

"There. Now please go get into some comfy clothes. I'll do the same, then we can drink hot chocolate... and how does a movie sound?"

"It sounds good", Whumpee made a small smile.

"I know you had a lot of fun out their. We can do it again", Caretaker promised, "let's get warmed up."

Caretaker walked by the window on their way to the kitchen.

Whumpee leaned on the couch and watched outside.

"Checking on the snowman?", Caretaker smiled.

"No, I'm seeing if it snows again. I want more", Whumpee smirked mischievously.

"Of course you are", Caretaker chuckled, "I wouldn't have thought anything else. Come on, let's get that hot chocolate going."

Whumpee giggled as they got up and followed Caretaker into the kitchen.

"Maybe if it snows again we can make another snowman", Whumpee enthusiastically shuffled on the kitchen floor.

"Yes, that would be fun", Caretaker winked, "two snowmen on my property would look great."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

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@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

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@risk606 @electrons2006

@paperprinxe @whumprince

@kaz-of-crows @mis-graves

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@tobiasbones @octopus-reactivated

@string-of-broken-hearts @weirdthingweee

@kawaii-cakes @phoenixpromptsandstuff

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Twenty-Six: Endurance

Chapter WC: 8,685

A/N: This chapter was supposed to just be about the boys, but I couldn't help but throw in a little extra treat. Also I'm going to put up a poll about the cover of this fic today, please vote if you can!

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Hyperspace, 21 BBY

After a whirlwind of meetings and introductions, and far too much talking, you were finally aboard the Oracle and on your way to Bothawui. You’d never in your life met so many people in such a short time, and while you were sure some would argue that was part of being a general, you couldn't help but feel drained and exhausted by the constant barrage of faces and names.

Thankfully, Booker was there to help, acting as a buffer between you and the rest of the world. He was surprisingly good at it, keeping everyone at arm's length while still making it seem like you were the friendliest and most approachable general anyone had ever met. It was a skill you had no idea he possessed, and one you were more than happy to take advantage of. The men respected him, and as far as you could tell, they didn't resent your presence. Even if you were starting to become undeniably cranky and snappy.

After a day and a half, however, things had finally begun to settle down, and the routine had started to take hold. You were still meeting and greeting and making friends, but the constant barrage of faces was finally becoming manageable, and the ship's crew and officers had stopped jumping at the chance to shake your hand. And while the men were still eager to introduce themselves, the novelty of a new general had begun to wear off. Which was a relief, considering how little sleep you'd gotten in the last forty-eight hours.

"What about green?" Booker asks, his gaze never leaving the datapad in his hands. "That would look good."

You give a noncommittal hum from somewhere in your chest and shift in your seat, trying desperately to get comfortable. The two of you have been in the conference room for the better part of the evening, discussing everything from supplies to battle strategies. And while you were enjoying his company and the chance to talk, it's getting late, and your body is screaming at you to rest.

“That’s fine,” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

“Or maybe something darker. Black?”

“Great.”

You close your eyes and lean back, the soft whirring of the ventilation system a welcome distraction. You listen to the gentle rhythm, the sound slowly fading into the background as your thoughts begin to drift.

The last couple of days had gone by in a blur, and it was only now that you were finally able to slow down and catch your breath. There had been a dozen meetings, a hundred questions, and a thousand decisions, and it was starting to take its toll. You hadn't realized exactly how much planning went into war until now, and the grey hairs starting to sprout from Obi-Wan's temples are beginning to make a lot more sense to you.

Your thoughts turn to him, and you can't help but wonder how he's doing. The two of you had spoken a few times, the conversation focused more on your respective divisions and the status of the war than anything else. You’d tried to keep the tone light, avoiding the topic of what had happened between the two of you. But even the briefest mention of Rex had caused a flash of sadness to pass over his face, and a twinge of guilt had twisted your gut.

The two of you were struggling, but both of you were trying your best to move past it. That was all that mattered. At least for now.

As for Rex, you'd messaged him a few times since you left, but the two of you had yet to have a chance to comm each other. The men had kept you busy, and he'd had his hands full with the 501st. As much as it pained you to admit, the distance was probably for the best. At least until you figured out exactly what it was that you were doing. Or rather, what it was that you were not doing.

“…And I was thinking I could paint a giant target on my armor and put myself on the front line. What do you think about that, sir?"

You blink, snapping back to the present, the image of Rex's face fading away. You glance at Booker to see he's staring at you, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Uh, sorry, what was that?" you ask. Booker lets out a dramatic sigh and sets his datapad on the table.

"I was just saying how nice it is to have a general who listens," he drawls. "Really pays attention to every single word."

"I'm listening," you mumble, stifling a yawn.

"Right," he replies. He crosses his arms, his gaze never leaving your face. "You're tired."

"I'm fine," you tell him. The lie is weak, even to your own ears, and you let out a frustrated groan, running a hand over your face. "Okay, yeah, I'm tired. Sorry. I just—"

"Need some sleep?" Booker finishes, his voice gentle. You shake your head, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes.

"No, no," you mutter. "It's fine. We can keep going."

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, and gives you a look. It’s not quite a glare, but it's close, and it’s so like Rex that it's startling. For a second, you're thrown back to the night in your quarters, Rex kneeling in front of you, the two of you staring at each other as he gently coaxed you into letting him take care of you. Then his words, his reminder to focus on your men and not your demons, ring through your mind. And suddenly, you're feeling a little less stubborn. A little more open to listening.

"Fine," you grumble, crossing your arms. "What do you want?"

"For you to get some rest," he says. You frown, and he holds up a hand, his expression shifting to a stern look. "Sir, you've been up for 16 hours.”

“I haven’t—“

“I’ve been keeping track," he tells you, cutting you off. "And as much as I enjoy your company, the men need you well-rested and alert. Not half-dead and sleep deprived."

Your jaw clenches, the urge to argue rising, but you force it back down. You know he's right, and the fact that he's willing to call you out on it, no matter how gently, is a testament to his character. And as much as you hate to admit it, you can feel the fatigue beginning to creep in, the desire to curl up and hide tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

You give a small sigh, and he flashes you a smile.

"Alright," you relent. "I'll turn in."

You stand and stretch, letting out a soft groan. Your spine pops, and you roll your shoulders, working the kinks out of your neck. You can't help but feel a little embarrassed by the fact that Booker has been keeping tabs on your habits, and while part of you wants to call him out for it, the other part of you is grateful for the concern. And you suppose that a man who's always looking out for his brothers will most likely be just as vigilant about looking out for his superior officers. Just as Rex was. Is. Will be.

The thought of the Captain sends a stab of pain through your chest, and you grimace, forcing the memory aside.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else?" you ask. You gesture towards the datapad on the table. "There's still a lot we have to go through."

"I'm sure. Besides, I'd rather you be well-rested for drills tomorrow."

You frown, the comment catching you off guard. "Drills? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he says as he stands and walks around the table, stopping beside you. "Figured it'd be a good idea. Get a feel for the men. See how they perform."

"I don't—"

"You're their commanding officer, sir," he interrupts, and he rests a hand on your shoulder. "You need to know what they're capable of. So do I. And the best way to find out is by putting them through their paces. That way, we can make sure they're prepared."

His tone is light, almost teasing, but his words are serious, and there's a glint in his eye that leaves no room for argument. And as much as you want to protest, the truth is that he's right. You need to see the men in action, to test their abilities. To see where their strengths and weaknesses lie. And the only way to do that is by testing them yourself.

You let out a resigned sigh and offer a small, grateful smile.

"I guess I'm gonna need to get some rest, huh?"

"That's the plan," Booker says. His hand slides off your shoulder, and he reaches over, picking up the datapad. "C’mon. I’ll walk you back to your quarters."

The two of you start down the hall, and Booker continues to fill you in on the details, his words fading into the background as your mind starts to drift. You're barely listening, and the only thing you can focus on is the gentle rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps beside you.

He seems different somehow, a little more serious, a little more thoughtful. You can tell the reality of command is settling over him, and while you're sure he's struggling with the responsibility, you can't help but be impressed by his composure. It's as if his personality has shifted, the uncertain, reckless cadet morphing into a more serious, responsible soldier. He's taking his role seriously, and the thought is comforting.

As the two of you round the corner, your comm chimes, the sudden sound making you jump. You stop and pull the device out, checking the message.

Rex: Hey. How's it going?

Your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the screen. Then, with a sharp breath, you type out a response, your fingers flying across the keys.

You: Good. Busy. Tired. But good. You?

Rex’s answer comes almost immediately.

Rex: Same. Glad to hear it's going well.

There's a pause, and a new message appears.

Rex: Can we talk?

Your heart leaps into your throat, and a flood of emotions wash over you. Excitement, anxiety, fear, anticipation, they all crash over you, a tidal wave threatening to drown you.

You type out a response, hesitating before hitting send.

You: Of course.

Another message pops up.

Rex: Comm me in 15 minutes. Don't forget.

You let out a quiet laugh, and you glance up, realizing Booker is staring at you, a small smile on his face. You flush, embarrassed, and you slide the comm back into your pocket, clearing your throat.

"Sorry," you mutter. "That was a friend."

"A friend, huh?" Booker asks, his tone teasing.

"Yes, a friend," you reply, giving him a sharp look.

"Well, your friend should have waited until morning," he tells you. "You need rest."

"He knows," you say, your voice softer than intended. Booker raises an eyebrow, and he glances at the pocket where your comm is sitting. Then his expression changes, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

"Ah," he says. "I get it."

You feel your cheeks burn, and you turn, continuing down the hall. He's following, his strides long and easy. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head, and the urge to snap at him is strong. But the truth is, you don't have the energy, and you're too focused on the promise of speaking with Rex to care.

You turn down another corridor, and Booker falls back into step beside you. He’s still watching you, but he doesn't speak, and you're thankful for the respite. You need a few moments to compose yourself, to collect your thoughts, to calm the flurry of emotions running rampant through your body.

Finally, you come to a stop in front of the door leading to your quarters, and you turn, looking up at him.

"Thank you," you tell him, your tone sincere. He grins, and he gives a slight nod.

"You're welcome, sir," he says. "Get some rest. Try not to stay up too late."

"What—"

Booker turns on his heel, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Have a good night, sir. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

Before you can respond, he's gone, disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the empty hallway. For a moment, all you can do is stare, and it's only the sudden chime of the chronometer that snaps you out of it. You pull the comm out of your pocket and unlock the door, stepping into your quarters and typing a quick message.

You: I'm here. Are you ready?

A response appears a few seconds later.

Rex: Whenever you are.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of your heart, and you tap the button on the screen, connecting the call. There's a second of static, and then the sound of Rex's voice fills the room, his tone warm and familiar.

"Hi."

The single word is enough to make you smile, and you settle on the edge of your bed, taking a moment to steady yourself.

"Hey," you say. "It's good to hear your voice."

"You too," he replies. There's a slight hesitation, and you can hear the sound of him taking a breath. Then, a hint of worry in his tone. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," you reply. You let out a quiet laugh. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You've been busy," he replies. There's another pause, and the air shifts, a feeling of apprehension falling over the conversation. "I didn't want to interrupt. Thought you might be getting tired of hearing from me."

"I'm never tired of hearing from you," you tell him, and the words are out of your mouth before you realize what you're saying. You blush, heat spreading across your face, and you're glad he can't see you. "I mean...it's nice. Talking to you."

You wince at the words, a flash of embarrassment rushing through you. That didn't come out right, either. You've barely said anything and you've already made a mess of things. And if the awkward silence coming from the comm is any indication, he's not taking it well.

But as the moment stretches, a spark of frustration ignites inside of you. It's not as if anything has changed between the two of you. Yes, the conversation is a bit uncomfortable, but that's only because you're trying so hard to keep things platonic. If you'd simply act natural, relax, let the conversation flow naturally, it wouldn't be so hard.

You take a deep breath and let the annoyance fade, replacing it with determination. You're not going to let this become a barrier between the two of you. If he can talk to you as a friend, so can you. And if that's all you can be, well, that's fine.

Besides, there's no reason why the two of you can't enjoy each other's company. Even if it's not quite what you want, even if it's not the kind of relationship you crave, the time spent together is still meaningful. It still matters. It's still something that brings you both comfort and joy.

And if the friendship is enough, well, that's better than nothing.

"I agree," Rex says, breaking the silence. His voice is gentle, and you can almost hear the smile in his words. "Even if you do sound tired."

You roll your eyes, letting out a scoff as you lean down and start to undo the buckles on your boots. "I'm not that tired."

"Sure," he drawls.

"I'm not," you reply, a slight note of indignation in your voice.

"Then why are you taking off your boots?"

You pause, caught off guard by the question. "How did—?"

"I can hear the buckles," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's pretty loud."

You let out a quiet sigh, your cheeks burning, and you set your boots aside. Your armor comes next, then your belt and tabards. The weight disappears from your shoulders, and you lean back, lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"Alright, maybe I'm a little tired," you admit. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the mattress against your back.

"Just a little," he teases.

"Shut up," you mumble, a small grin on your face. "You know you're just as bad."

"I never claimed otherwise," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "How're things? The new legion treating you well?"

You close your eyes and let out a quiet hum, shifting into a more comfortable position. You can hear the concern in his voice, and you're glad that he's checking up on you. Even if it's for a brief moment.

"They're great," you answer, your voice soft. "A little eager, but that's expected. We're working through it."

Rex chuckles. "Sounds about right. Give 'em a few weeks. They'll figure it out."

"I hope so," you reply.

There's a moment of silence, and you find yourself drifting, the warmth and safety of your quarters lulling you into a sense of comfort. You yawn, your body sinking deeper into the bed, the weariness of the past few days beginning to catch up to you. You know you should get ready for bed, should take a shower and brush your teeth and change into something more comfortable, but the thought of moving is too exhausting.

"I can let you go, if you want," Rex offers, and the hint of reluctance in his voice makes you smile. "I know you're tired."

"No, I'm fine," you say. You open your eyes, blinking away the fatigue. "I'd rather talk to you. Even if I'm half-asleep."

Rex lets out a soft chuckle. "That doesn't bode well for the conversation."

"Doesn't matter," you murmur. "I like talking to you."

There's a pause, and you can practically hear the surprise in his voice. "Yeah?"

You let out a snort, and you roll onto your side, pulling the blanket up over yourself. "Yes, Rex, I like talking to you. A lot."

The admission leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and you're suddenly grateful that he can't see the blush that spreads across your face. You wince, the embarrassment hitting you full force. Maybe the lack of sleep is affecting you more than you thought. You should have kept your mouth shut. At least until you weren't half-delirious.

"I like talking to you too," Rex replies, his voice soft.

"Good," you say. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, settling in. "Then let's talk. Tell me how the 501st is doing."

Rex begins to tell you about the men, his voice low and soothing. The new men he picked up on Kamino, his concerns about their training, the adjustments he's made to the command structure. He keeps the details light, avoiding anything too technical, and his words drift through the room, lulling you into a drowsy, contented state.

After a while, he trails off, and a moment of silence settles over the call.

"Are you still awake?"

"Mhm," you murmur, the sound muffled by the pillow. "Just resting my eyes."

"Right," he says, the doubt in his voice apparent. There's another pause, and you can hear him shift, his breath catching slightly. "Do you... do you mind if I keep talking?"

You give a slight shake of your head. "No, not at all."

"Alright," he says. Another pause, and the hesitance is back. As if he's worried about saying something wrong. Something that will break the spell. "I don't want to keep you up."

"I'm listening," you assure him.

He lets out a quiet sigh, and he falls silent. For a moment, you wonder if the call has dropped, or if the connection is bad, or if the battery on his comm has died. But just as the thought enters your mind, his voice cuts through the darkness, soft and gentle.

"I've missed you," he admits. "More than I expected."

Your chest tightens, and you open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling. It's strange, how a few words can cause such a visceral reaction, but the feeling is undeniable. It's as if a part of you is waking up, stretching, reaching for something.

It's only been a few days since you've seen him, but the longing is already setting in. The need to see his face. Hear his voice. Feel his presence. It's a need that grows stronger with every passing moment.

"I've missed you too," you reply, your voice a whisper. "More than I probably should."

Rex lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah."

There's another moment of silence, and you find yourself drifting, your thoughts beginning to slow. It's only the sound of his voice that keeps you from falling asleep, and you can't help but wonder if he's doing the same. If he's staying awake just to listen to the sound of your breathing.

"Are you still with me?" he asks.

"Yeah," you mumble, turning onto your side. You adjust the pillow, propping it up, and curl onto your side, hugging the soft fabric. You can feel sleep starting to claim you, and you're not sure how long you'll be able to fight it. "I'm here."

"You should get some sleep," he says, his voice gentle. "You're gonna need it."

You hum softly, closing your eyes and letting the darkness consume you. "Only if you promise to stay with me. Until I fall asleep."

There's a brief pause, and a wave of self-consciousness rushes through you. But before the doubt can take root, he speaks.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, his voice warm. You can hear the smile in his words, and the tightness in your chest loosens, a feeling of calm washing over you. "Close your eyes. Get comfortable."

You let out a quiet hum and obey, snuggling deeper into the blankets, pulling the sheets up around your shoulders. You can hear the soft sound of his breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He's lying in bed too, just as tired and worn out as you are, his comm tucked under his ear.

For a moment, neither of you speak, and the quiet that surrounds you is comforting, a blanket of calm settling over the room. It's nice, being able to simply exist, to be alone with each other, no words needed. And while it's not exactly the same as being in the same place, being in the same bed, it's enough. For now.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a low rumble. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm."

"Do you think..." He trails off, his words fading. You open your eyes and peer at the comm, waiting for him to continue. When he does, his voice is hesitant. "Do you think the war will ever end?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is blink, trying to process his words. In truth, you're not sure if the war will ever end. There's a part of you that hopes so, a part of you that wants peace more than anything, but there's a darker, more cynical part of you that's beginning to doubt it. That's beginning to wonder if the fighting will ever end. Or if the galaxy will be trapped in a never-ending cycle of war and destruction.

You let out a small sigh, closing your eyes once more.

"I don't know," you murmur. "But I hope so."

"Yeah," Rex replies, his tone distant. "Me too."

There's a brief silence, and you can hear the sound of fabric shifting. You imagine him rolling onto his side, adjusting his blankets, getting comfortable. Then he clears his throat, his voice barely audible.

"If it does end, though, I..." He trails off, and a slight note of uncertainty creeps into his tone. "I mean, will we...?"

He doesn't finish, and the question hangs in the air, unspoken. Will we still see each other? Will we stay friends? Will we still talk? Will we still care about each other? The thoughts race through your mind, and a knot forms in your stomach, the possibilities making you dizzy. You can't bear the thought of losing him, of losing what you have, and the mere idea of him not being a part of your life makes your chest ache.

The truth is, you need him. You need him in a way that's different from anyone else. A way that's beyond the platonic, beyond the physical, beyond the romantic. You need him because he understands you. He sees you. And the thought of being without him, of not having him by your side, of not hearing his voice, is too much to bear.

The reality of it is enough to snap you out of your stupor, and a rush of courage flows through you.

"I hope so," you whisper, the words barely audible. "I want us to."

A soft laugh escapes him, and you can almost hear the relief in his voice.

"Good," he murmurs. "So do I."

"Good," you sigh. You close your eyes, allowing the exhaustion to finally pull you under, and the sound of his breathing washes over you, carrying you deeper into the darkness.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, how long the call lasts, or if he even stays awake. But the last thing you remember before the blackness claims you is the gentle hum of his voice, the quiet, steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.

Your comm is still on when you wake in the morning. It lies face up on your pillow, and when you check it, the screen is still active, the call still connected. You smile and bring the device closer, and when you hear the sound of a soft snore, your heart stutters. He's still there. He stayed.

For a moment, all you can do is lie there, staring at the comm, listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Then, as carefully as possible, you tap the button on the side, disconnecting the call. The screen goes dark, and the sound cuts off, leaving you alone in the silence.

You set the comm aside, and as you climb out of bed, you can't help but wonder how many more moments like this you'll get to have. How many more late-night calls, how many more stolen hours. How many more nights spent curled up next to the comm, his voice filling the air.

You know the answer, and it's not a pleasant one. You're going to be on the front lines, constantly in motion, constantly fighting. And if the war drags on, as it seems likely to, the two of you will be spread apart, the distance between you increasing exponentially. And even if somehow the universe sees fit to grant the two of you a respite, there's no guarantee that it will last. No guarantee that it will allow you the chance to truly enjoy each other's company.

You stand, shaking the thoughts away. It doesn't matter. What's done is done. And whatever happens, whatever the future holds, the two of you will make it work. You have to. Because the alternative is too painful to contemplate.

And if the only time the two of you can spend together is in the form of a few stolen moments, a few late-night conversations, a few whispered words, well, that's better than nothing.

With a sigh, you haul yourself out of bed, determined to start the day with a clean slate. It's going to be a long one, and the last thing you need is to let the negativity consume you. So, you push the doubts and fears and worries aside and get dressed, the familiar routine calming your nerves.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, and a quick trip to the mess hall, you make your way to the hangar. There’s a commotion as the troops work together to clear out the space, and a flurry of activity fills the air, the sound of metal boots echoing throughout the room.

Booker is standing near the entrance, a datapad in hand. Like most of the men, he’s dressed in the lower half of his armor, leaving the black undersuit visible. He glances up as you approach, and a grin spreads across his face, his eyes bright.

"Good morning, sir," he greets, his voice loud enough to be heard over the din.

"Good morning," you reply, and you give him a tired smile. "You're chipper today."

He laughs and sets the datapad on a nearby crate, crossing his arms. "I'm always chipper, sir. Just like you're always grumpy."

You glare at him, but the look only makes him laugh.

"C'mon," he says, jerking his head towards the open space. "We're ready to go."

You follow him across the hangar, weaving through the sea of troopers, and a moment later, the two of you are standing in the middle of the room, the men forming a large circle around you. There's a hush as the group gathers, and Booker turns, addressing the troops.

"Listen up!" he calls, his voice booming through the room. The men immediately straighten, their attention focused on the pair of you. "Today, we'll be conducting drills. Hand-to-hand combat and weapons training."

You step forward, and you raise your voice, addressing the men. "I know most of you have had basic training, but today will be different. Today, I want to see what you can do. Who has the fastest reaction times. Who has the best accuracy. Who can take a hit and keep going. We'll go through each of the weapons, and we'll spar. Everyone. Even me."

You pause, allowing the men to absorb your words.

"It's important that you're well-prepared," you continue. "Because once we reach the battlefield, there's no room for error. Every second, every movement, counts. So, let's get to work."

The men immediately scramble to various stations, grabbing blasters and helmets and other equipment. You watch as they work together, passing gear between each other. They're efficient and organized, and the sight is enough to ease some of the pressure. At least you know these men will be able to handle themselves.

After a few minutes, everyone is suited up, and the hangar is filled with the hum of blasters and the sound of shouting. You glance at Booker, and you share a knowing smile. Then, without another word, the two of you move, heading towards the nearest station.

It's a good three hours before the first break is called, and by the time it is, the entire hangar is hot and sweaty and exhausted. The men gather around, their chests heaving, their faces covered in grime. And, while some are showing signs of weariness, most are smiling and joking with each other, their spirits high.

You're leaning against the wall, sipping water and watching the troops, and Booker is sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, his hands resting behind his head. The two of you watch as a few soldiers begin to spar, and the rest gather around, cheering them on.

"They're doing well," Booker observes, his voice soft.

You nod, watching as a trooper manages to land a kick, sending his opponent staggering. The sound of their laughter fills the air, and you can't help but smile.

"Yeah," you agree. "They're a good group."

The two of you fall silent, and you find yourself thinking about Rex, wondering how his men are doing. Wondering how he's doing. The image of his face, the soft sound of his voice, fills your mind, and the memory is enough to send a warm tingle down your spine.

"So," Booker begins, pulling you from your thoughts. You glance at him, raising an eyebrow, and he gives you a look. "Still regretting that promotion?"

You roll your eyes and turn, leaning against the wall and crossing your arms. You stare at the floor as you consider his question. After a moment, you give a slight shake of your head, letting out a quiet laugh.

"No," you admit. "Not anymore."

Booker smiles, his eyes sparkling. "Good."

The larger of the two clones lands a solid hit, sending his opponent to the ground, and you wince at the sound of impact. But the men are laughing, and a few seconds later, they're helping their fallen comrade to his feet, clapping him on the back. Blood streams from his nose, but he doesn't seem to care, a wide grin on his face as one of the men steps forward and ruffles his hair.

"Is that Dash?" you ask, pointing at the clone with the bloodied face. Booker glances over, and his expression softens.

"Yeah," he replies. "That's him."

The clone looks over at the sound of his name, and his face lights up, a wide smile spreading across his face. He raises a hand in a wave, and you give a small nod, acknowledging the gesture. You'd forgotten how young he was. You hadn't seen him since the battle of Kamino, and the memory of him standing before you, his hands twisting nervously, is suddenly fresh in your mind. He's taller now, more confident, but there's still a hint of anxiety in his eyes.

"How's he doing?" you murmur to Booker, turning your head so that the men can't see your lips move.

"He's good," Booker answers, his voice low. "He's got a lot of potential."

You nod, watching as Dash takes a few steps forward, stopping in front of the two of you. The rest of the men disperse, returning to their sparring and their shooting, and the three of you are left alone.

Dash's smile is a little less enthusiastic now, and a light flush creeps across his face. He stands awkwardly, his hands clasped behind his back, his feet shifting nervously.

"General," he greets, giving a slight nod. "It's an honor."

"How are you, Dash?" you ask, keeping your tone friendly.

"I'm good, sir," he replies. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and it comes away smeared with blood. "You?"

You give him a smile, trying to hide the concern on your face. "I'm fine. Are you alright? Your nose is bleeding."

Dash blinks, seemingly surprised, and he brings his hand up, pressing a finger to his nose. It comes away red, and he glances at his hand with a frown. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and after a moment, he simply shrugs, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, looking embarrassed.

"Hey," Booker cuts in. "Why don't you take a seat?"

He pats the spot next to him, and Dash nods, sinking to the floor. You settle beside him, your back against the wall, and you hand him a towel. He takes it gratefully, pressing the cloth to his nose.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice muffled.

"No problem," you tell him. You glance at his face, studying the injury. His nose isn't broken, and the bleeding has slowed, but the bruise is already starting to form. "Who were you fighting?"

"Screwball," Dash answers, gesturing to the clone. The man in question is currently sparring with another trooper, and the two of them are locked in a fierce battle. You watch, impressed, as Screwball manages to knock his opponent's feet out from under him, and a few seconds later, the soldier is on his back, the larger clone straddling his chest.

Dash lets out a snort, and he shakes his head.

"That was fast," he mutters. "He's good."

"He is," you agree, your eyes never leaving the fight. Screwball has managed to pin his opponent, and he's using his weight to his advantage, holding the man in place. After a moment, the soldier slumps, signaling his surrender, and Screwball leaps to his feet, a broad grin on his face.

"You're not so bad, yourself," you add, glancing at Dash. He meets your gaze, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You held your own."

His cheeks turn a deep red, and he ducks his head, a soft laugh escaping him. You give him a gentle pat on the shoulder, and his blush darkens.

"Thanks, sir," he mumbles.

"Just telling the truth," you say, shrugging. "You're leaving yourself open, though."

Dash's eyebrows furrow, and he turns his attention to you.

"What do you mean?"

"Your left side," you explain. "You're leaving it open. If your opponent is fast enough, they'll be able to get a shot in. Like this."

You swing your leg out, and the tip of your boot connects with his ribs. It's a gentle kick, but he flinches, hissing in pain. He doubles over, clutching his side, and you offer an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," you say. "I didn't mean to hit that hard."

"It's fine," Dash says, his voice strained.

"Try again," you instruct, getting to your feet. Dash takes a deep breath, and he rolls his shoulders, shaking out his limbs. He plants his feet, his fists clenched, and he squares his shoulders, ready for the next blow. You take a step back, and you swing your leg, aiming for his right side this time.

He doesn't flinch, and he's able to block the kick, his forearm connecting with your shin. He grunts, and you grin, impressed.

"Good," you tell him, taking a step back. "Better. Now, try the same thing, but switch sides."

He nods, and he plants his feet again, his arms held loosely at his sides. This time, he's quicker, and he's able to deflect your kick, his hand coming up and grabbing your ankle. You yelp as he twists, yanking your foot off the ground, though the maneuver doesn't catch you off guard. You let your body fall, landing on the ground, and you twist your leg, freeing yourself from his grasp.

You leap back to your feet, and the two of you begin a series of kicks and blocks, your bodies moving in sync. The other troopers stop to watch, and a few of them begin cheering, encouraging Dash to keep going. After a few minutes, you slow, and the two of you circle each other, panting. Dash's nose has stopped bleeding, and his eyes are bright, a wild grin on his face.

"Not bad," you pant, a smile on your own face.

"Not bad?" Dash echoes. "I think I won."

"In your dreams," you scoff. You wipe the sweat from your forehead, and you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. "Again. You're still leaving yourself open."

Dash frowns, and he glances down, studying his posture. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head, and after a moment, his expression changes, his face brightening. He moves his left arm, tucking it behind his back, and he takes a defensive stance, his hands up.

"Like this?" he asks, his eyes shining.

"Exactly," you reply, a note of approval in your tone. "Now, try blocking me again."

He nods, and you lunge, swinging your leg. His arm snaps up, and he blocks the kick, a loud grunt escaping him. You pull your foot back, and he takes a step forward, his arms raised. The two of you continue the exercise, blocking and dodging, until finally, you decide to end the fight with a final move. 

You feint, and Dash reacts, his eyes narrowing. He blocks your kick, but his guard is down, and you take advantage, grabbing his arm and yanking him off-balance. He lets out a startled yelp as you twist, using your momentum to pull him over your shoulder, and a second later, he's on his back, blinking up at you. 

The room erupts into cheers, and you extend a hand, helping him to his feet. His face is flushed, but his eyes are bright, and he grins, shaking his head.

"Wow," he says, a little breathless. "You're fast."

"So are you," you reply. You dust your hands off and give him a wink. "Keep practicing, and you might actually stand a chance against me."

He laughs and runs a hand through his hair, his cheeks still pink.

"I'll do my best, sir," he promises.

"Good," you tell him. You glance around, and a small crowd has formed, the men watching the two of you. You raise your voice, addressing the group. "Alright, everyone! Back to work! Let's go!"

The men scatter, and the two of you watch as they return to their training, the hangar filled with the sound of their voices and their laughter. Dash turns too, but Booker catches his arm, holding him in place as another clone emerges from the group, striding towards the three of you. You recognize Wise instantly by the sour look on his face, and you can't help but smirk.

You'd been more than a little surprised to learn that Wise had volunteered to be the chief medic of the 419th Brigade. Not that you doubted his abilities. He'd certainly shown his worth as a skilled healer, his knowledge of anatomy and physiology rivaling that of the Kaminoans, but a part of you had assumed Kamino would want to keep him. It wasn't every day a clone with his talents walked out of the facility.

Yet, here he was. And for some reason, his presence made you feel better. Like maybe if he was here, it meant something. Like maybe you weren't completely screwed.

"You okay, Wise?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Wise shoots you a glare, and he crosses his arms, his expression sour.

"This place is a goddamn zoo," he grumbles. He points at Dash's face, the blood still visible despite the attempt to wipe it away. "What happened to you?"

Dash shrugs. "Sparring."

Wise snorts derisively, and he reaches out, grabbing Dash by the chin. He tilts the clone's head to the side, examining the wound, and his eyes narrow.

"I told you not to do anything stupid," he grumbles.

Dash grins and shrugs again, clearly not bothered by Wise's scolding.

"It was a good fight," he replies, a slight note of pride in his voice. "I learned a lot."

Wise rolls his eyes and releases his hold on the younger clone. He turns to you, giving you a slight nod, and you raise an eyebrow, surprised by his show of respect.

"General," he says. His voice is gruff, and there's a hint of hesitation in his tone. "Can I talk to you? Privately?"

Your eyebrows furrow, and you exchange a confused glance with Booker.

"Sure," you reply, turning your attention to the medic. He jerks his head towards the far side of the hangar, and the two of you start walking, leaving Booker and Dash behind.

As soon as the two of you are out of earshot, Wise stops, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I wanted to apologize," he says, his tone low.

"For what?"

"For the way I treated you," he answers, meeting your gaze. His eyes are filled with regret, and his lips are pressed into a thin line. "Back on Kamino."

You blink, taken aback by his admission. It's not as if you were a stranger to rude behavior, and compared to what you'd endured and dished out over your lifetime, Wise's attitude had barely registered. If anything, it had been a bit refreshing. The fact that he felt the need to apologize, however, is unexpected.

You study his expression, searching for a hint of sarcasm, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. There isn't any.

"It's fine," you assure him. "I didn't exactly make a great first impression, either."

He lets out a huff of air, and he gives a small shake of his head.

"Yeah, well," he mutters. "You're the General. It wasn't my place."

There's a long pause, and you lean against the wall, watching as the troops begin their exercises once more. You can feel his eyes on you, and after a moment, you turn, meeting his gaze.

"How did you end up here, anyway?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Wise snorts and leans beside you, crossing his arms across his chest and resting his back against the wall. He lets out a short sigh, and his gaze falls, focusing on the floor.

"The longnecks weren't thrilled," he admits, his voice low. "But they didn't really have a choice. Commander Booker and Captain Rex had spoken on my behalf, and the GAR had approved my transfer."

"And you're okay with that?"

He gives a noncommittal shrug, his expression thoughtful.

"It's better than scrubbing floors and being under constant surveillance," he says. He shoots a glance in your direction, and his lips twitch. "And as far as generals go, you're not so bad."

You can't help but laugh, and you nudge him gently.

"Well, I appreciate the vote of confidence," you reply, grinning. You tilt your head, giving him a playful look. "So, we're friends now, right?"

Wise scoffs and rolls his eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile creeps across his face.

"Hardly," he mutters, and he turns, his eyes scanning the hangar. He clears his throat, his voice returning to its usual gruffness. "Now, get back to work, General. Some of us have actual things to do."

Wise pushes away from the wall, heading back towards Dash and Booker, and you follow, the two of you falling into step. As the distance between the group and yourselves lessens, the medic's demeanor shifts, and his usual scowl is firmly in place. Dash seems immune to the effect of his glare, too focused on the conversation he's having with Booker. A conversation that, judging by the blush on his cheeks, seems to involve you.

"Green is good, but I think she would look better in yellow," Dash says, his voice hushed. "What do you think?"

"I don't know, kid," Booker replies. "I'm not sure if yellow is her color."

"It's worth a shot, isn't it?" Dash glances over, catching sight of Wise, and he grins. "Hey, Wise, what color would you say the General looks best in?"

"Don't drag me into this," Wise grumbles. He comes to a stop beside the pair, and his gaze lands on you. You raise an eyebrow, silently asking him the question, and his expression is completely deadpan. "Yellow."

He gives a short nod to you and Booker, his gaze lingering for a moment, before striding past, disappearing into the sea of troops. You watch him go, unable to hide the smirk on your face, and Booker's expression is one of pure shock. Dash, meanwhile, looks pleased. Very, very pleased.

"Um..." he begins. He clears his throat, and his eyes dart to Booker, his expression hopeful. "Commander?"

Booker blinks, and his lips twitch. He claps Dash on the shoulder, and the younger clone nearly buckles, a sharp gasp escaping him.

"Dash thinks our color should be yellow," he announces, and Dash lets out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. You raise an eyebrow, and Booker gives a noncommittal shrug. "Personally, I think it's a little bright, but..."

"Yellow's not bad," you concede, glancing around the hangar. Anything would be better than the white and gray you were currently surrounded by. "We could probably do with a little color around here."

Dash studies you for a few moments longer, and his eyes light up, a broad grin splitting his face. He turns on his heel and rushes to the nearest trooper, and he begins speaking rapidly, pointing in your direction. The soldier nods, and a moment later, he's jogging off, disappearing into the crowd.

"What are they doing?" you ask, glancing at Booker.

"Not sure," he replies. "But I'm guessing the kid's got an idea."

The two of you watch as Dash speaks to another clone, this one older and taller. After a brief conversation, the man nods, and the pair begin making their way through the hangar, stopping in front of various squads. They speak to the soldiers, gesturing towards you, and a few minutes later, the men begin nodding, some of them even laughing. When Dash is finished, he hurries back towards you, his eyes shining.

"Well?" you ask, and he flashes a broad grin.

"It's settled, sir," he announces, his chest puffed out.

"Oh?"

"Gold," he replies. He nods, as if agreeing with his own words. "Definitely gold."

A surprised laugh escapes you. The Force must be playing a trick on you. There was no other explanation for it. Because it seemed that, somehow, the universe had aligned itself to bring the clones of the 419th together, all for the sole purpose of giving you a headache.

"Gold," you repeat, and Dash nods, a slight look of concern on his face.

"Yes, sir," he says, his voice quiet. "Is that...is that alright?"

"Why?" you ask, unable to keep the incredulity out of your tone. "Where did you get the idea?"

"It's because of your lightsaber," Dash tells you. He points at your waist, and your gaze drifts down to the weapon attached to your belt. "It's yellow. Or gold, really. We should match."

"My lightsaber?" you echo, staring at him. His cheeks flush, and he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, yeah," he mutters. He drops his hand, and his eyes land on your saber. "The way it lights up the room...it's like...it's like it's filled with the sun itself."

You open your mouth, but no words come out. Instead, you stand there, stunned, an unexpected swell of emotion rising within you. You don't know why, but his words, his sentiment, touches you. In a way you never would've imagined.

It's a strange feeling. You're not used to it, and you're not entirely sure how to process it. No one has ever compared your lightsaber to the sun before. Your yellow blade is one more thing that's different from most other Jedi. Another piece of evidence to mark you as an outsider. For Dash to see something else, something unique and special, is...nice. Nice and unexpected.

"Okay," you say softly, giving him a small smile. "Gold it is."

A few of the men let out cheers, and Booker claps his hands, raising his voice.

"Alright," he calls. "Back to work!"

The troopers scatter, and the noise level in the hangar returns to normal, the sound of laughter and friendly banter filling the air. Booker gives a satisfied nod before he turns to you, his expression serious.

"You okay?" he asks, lowering his voice. "You look like you're about to cry."

You glare at him, though the effect is lost. There's a stinging in your eyes that you can't quite shake, and you turn your head, pretending to study the troops. You take a deep breath, pushing the feelings aside, and a few seconds later, you manage to regain control.

"I'm fine," you reply, a hint of annoyance in your tone. You turn back to Booker, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. You roll your eyes. "And I don't cry."

He snorts and shakes his head, turning his attention back to the men. The two of you stand in companionable silence, watching as the squad leaders guide their troops through the motions. A short distance away, Dash is practicing his sparring skills with Screwball, a smile on his face.

After a while, you glance at Booker, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I think we'll be alright," you murmur.

Booker's gaze remains focused on the men, but his expression softens, and the corner of his mouth curves upward.

"Yeah," he agrees, and he nudges you gently. "We will."

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[duchessonfire]

Savior Carl!AU re-read Part 2 Chapter 6

Follow-up of my re-read of Part 2 Chapter 5. If you're not interested and don't want to have your dashboard spammed, you can block the tags Duchess reads and Savior Carl AU reread.

Commentary for Part 2, Ch 6 below the cut (spoilers for part 2 ahead):

Work has officially started again and I'm swamped so I'm only getting back into this re-reading now. (Btw, I'm currently listening to "toxic till the end" by Rosé and my god it's so Savior!AU Cegan... Same for "number one girl" from her Rosie album)

So, chapter 6, the beginning of the heatwave. This is so funny because I still remember writing part 2 and being like, okay I have 2 more chapters and the Claimers plot is done, so what can I do to shake things up at Sanctuary? And at the time I was teaching a class on the short story "Roman Fever" by Edith Wharton and I was explaining to my students the whole stereotypes about southern Europe from the povs of characters from England or the north-eastern coast of America, how the warmer climate is associated with looser morals, promiscuity, how people used to cold climates start to act a bit erratically when it's too hot and they let go of some of their inhibitions. And as I was preparing for this class, I was like... wait a minute... *lightbulb moment*

Anyway, this is how the idea of the heatwave came about and it's crazy that it is still ongoing in part 3, but at the same time it feels very fitting. Right when Negan has decided he's going to be a good man and keep things platonic with Carl, I turned the oven on and blasted them with heat :)))) No regret.

This chapter is very much a pivotal moment in the story because a lot hinges on it. In the previous chapter, Negan showed Carl a surprisingly human and compassionate side of his personality, but everything that has been happening since the start of part 2 (the increasingly erotic tension between them, Negan's cruelty) is still there.

In the Savior!AU, it's very important to me that Negan never becomes too nice. I have nothing against fluff or nice!Negan (in fact, I'm currently writing the fluffiest, nicest Negan ever in my Strawberry Mama Cegan fic), but I started writing the Savior!AU back in 2021 because there was a lack of Cegan fics where Negan was still the sadistic, cruel leader from the canon. Back then, there was a plethora of fics where Carl was sexually abused by Shane, or assaulted by the Claimers, and Negan was the only one who understood/rescued Carl, as well as a lot of fics where Negan immediately became protective of Carl and put him above everyone else right after meeting him, basically 'love at first sight' fics. As much as I enjoyed those stories, I was chagrined at how few fics there were where Negan was still Negan, still cruel and sadistic and egotistical, even when he clearly favored Carl over everyone else (a great example of this, and to me still one of the best Cegan fics ever written, is Wildflowers by Gemjam).

So, to me, this what the Savior!AU is and should always be: a story where Carl and Negan fall in love, yes, but where Negan is still Negan, still monstrous and power-hungry just as much as he's loving and protective, and this is in fact is the main obstacle of their relationship: that Negan's cruelty and thirst for power will always get in the way for as long as he's the leader of the Saviors.

This is why it's so important to me to keep all those moments when Negan is canonically cruel and ruthless. And this chapter has a big one with Mark getting his face ironed off.

Carl is so absorbed by him, by his sheer presence, that it takes him a second to notice that Negan is inspecting him right back, unmoving from his spot by the stairway. His gaze trails along where Carl is slumped against the wall, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, slowly, down and then up again, and there is nothing concealed about it, his appraisal plainly obvious. His lips are slightly parted, letting Carl glimpse at his pink tongue, the tip caught between his teeth. He can’t feel hotter than he already does, but the rolling knots in his stomach are both new and familiar. He’s reminded of that time in the parking lot, of Negan’s susurrating voice making him feel like he was on a rollercoaster. When their eyes meet, Negan’s hand tightens briefly around Lucille’s handle, before going lax again. He moves forward and Carl knows he should straighten up, knows he should kneel, but he does neither. Instead, he stays right where he is, never taking his eyes off of Negan as he gets inexorably closer, his footsteps an ominous toll that sends Carl’s heart careening inside his chest. Negan stops right in front of him, the tips of his boots grazing Carl’s own. His gelled hair is curling at the temples and his skin is shiny under his salt and pepper beard, a sheen of perspiration covering the bow of his upper lip and the slight curve at the top of his chin. Negan makes a low sound, between a laugh and a sigh, and Carl’s eye follows the movement of his lips with rapt fascination when he speaks. “Pheew,” he breathes out, sending an exhale of peppermint-sweet air in Carl’s face. “Even in here, it’s hotter than the devil’s asscrack.” Then, unexpectedly, he asks, “Wanna hold her for me?”

There is SO MUCH happening here. Carl and Negan looking at each other and lusting after each other openly (the first time in the fic that it's mutual and not just one-sided), Negan's flex of the hand that shows he's barely restraining himself from grabbing Carl, Carl knowing he should kneel but staying standing because he's becoming aware of the fact that the rules don't apply when it's just him and Negan away from everyone else, Negan asking Carl to hold Lucille (the symbol of his battered heart and erect cock intertwined and wrapped in barbed wire) while he goes to have sex with someone else, so basically asking Carl to hold his heart while he fucks one of the wives...

Negan smirks, teeth flashing, and Carl should know better than to think he can hide the effect Negan has on him. “Thanks. Things might get a lil’ loud in there. Just a heads-up,” he winks. Carl swallows, hard. He is pretty sure the sweat rolling down his face must be sizzling, puffs of steam coming out from his every pore. As if on cue, he feels a plump drop of perspiration trail from his temple, along his chin and down his Adam's apple, before pooling in the hollow of his collarbone. Negan’s gaze, previously light and playful, turns dark and riveted as he gives Carl’s face a long once-over, slowly going down from his sweaty brow to his flushed cheeks and lips before settling on his neck, just above the soaked collar of his t-shirt. His gray eyes stay there for long seconds, transfixed, before Negan suddenly blinks, gaze flicking to the ceiling as he mutters under a raspy breath, “Je-sus.” Carl doesn’t have time to fully grasp what just happened that Negan is already moving, disappearing inside the wives’ apartment with a sharp exhale and a shake of his head. His warm and spicy scent lingers in the air around Carl, thick and heady.

This is one of my favorite moments in this chapter because it's really difficult to write a longing/erotic scene where in fact nothing is happening, especially when I have to tread the line of Carl's pov, of him still being mostly innocent and unaware of what Negan wants to do to him, while at the same time knowing it (as shown in the dirty dream that Carl has right after this moment).

I'm not going to quote the dirty dream, but I did want to have Carl explore his sexual attraction to Negan on his own before any smut happened between them. It felt important to me that Carl had at least some time to accept that he's sexually attracted to Negan, that this anticipation builds, before anything happened. A boy doesn't go from being sexually repressed for four years to jumping into bed with a man 3x his age out of nowhere. (Btw, Carl masturbating while thinking of Negan was inspired by this awesome fic Secret Handshake by Gonfalonier) (I'm realizing now that these re-read posts could also be a great place to rec some Cegan fics. If you like them, do show them some love!)

Now, the beer scene. Not gonna lie, I still have no idea where the inspiration for this one came from but I am SO PROUD of it. It's just the most devious interrogation technique. Negan knows very well what he's doing, that Carl probably never had a drink in his entire life, that he will be affected by the alcohol, less able to think and lie, all of this without touching a single hair on Carl's head.

And of course at the end of the scene is this awesome moment that will haunt Carl again and again:

He keeps his tone casual, but Carl doesn’t miss the dangerous edge in his voice when he asks, “And since when do you take orders from pretty boy Mark?” He opens his mouth but before he can answer, Negan snaps, “Drink.” The bottle is more than half-empty, its taste milder than before, hints of sweetness coating his tongue underneath all the earthy tanginess. It takes Carl a second to remember the question he was asked. “I don’t. I just… I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.” The crow’s feet around Negan’s eyes mellow for a brief instant, his expression turning understanding. But it only lasts just that, an instant, before anger takes over once more. He leans forward, towering with all of his height over Carl. His lips brush against Carl’s ear, but there is nothing seductive about it. It’s a warning, plain and simple. “Don’t be soft, it doesn’t fuckin’ suit you,” Negan growls.

It's not just the lie that bothers Negan, but the fact that Carl lied to protect *Mark*, young and fit Mark, who's already charming the pants off Amber and now Carl too. This is the first time that Negan is jealous of another man that Carl interacted with since Shane. After Carl killed Shane, Negan thought all the competition had been eliminated, that he was finally the only man in Carl's orbit, but now he realizes that it's not necessarily true.

The line "don't be soft" especially will come back in part 3 because Carl will never be able to forget it. Negan sees that Carl's lie was not done out of love for Mark but compassion, that Carl has a good heart, and of course it's something that Negan appreciates and admires, but at the same time, it's also something that deeply frightens Negan. Negan associates softness with weakness and, as his talk with Gabriel in the "Big Scary U" episode highlights, he is intent on eradicating weakness: the weakness that made him afraid of killing walkers in the "Here's Negan" flashback episode, the weakness that made him forget to turn the generator back on because he was afraid it would attract walkers and which led to Lucille's medication be ruined, the weakness that let him be captured by the Valaks Vipers biker gang, the weakness that made Lucille kill herself rather than fight cancer... Like Shane, Negan is desperate to turn Carl into a hardened and ruthless killer because they both think it's the only way Carl can survive: by being as merciless and cold as they are, because Negan and Shane have seen too many good and soft people die horrible deaths and they'll be damned if they let this happen to Carl. Negan, like Shane, knows that the real danger is not the walkers or other people, but it's yourself, your own kindness and morals and empathy. Those are the things that get you killed. It's tragic that so much of Shane and Negan's abuse toward Carl is driven by fierce protectiveness and absolute terror at the thought of anything happening to Carl.

This post is far too long already so I'll wrap it up with two scenes: the conversation between Carl and Dwight after Negan left the room, and Negan ironing Mark's face off.

I can't remember if I've said this before but the relationship between Carl and Dwight was really unexpected. I never planned on them bonding but, as I wrote the story and re-watched the episodes about Dwight from canon, it just seemed natural considering all the similarities between them: the disfigured face, the fact that they started as Negan's enemies, that their blind loyalty and devotion to Negan is underpinned by seditious rebellion (Dwight because he let Sherry get away and Carl because he freed Rosita). Dwight often acts as a sort of moral bell tolling for Carl. He's the one reminding Carl of the harsh reality of Sanctuary, of who Negan is. And for all that Carl likes to forget, he has to acknowledge that Dwight is right about everything. There will never be peace at Sanctuary, not in the long term, because Negan's Sanctuary is the product of his grief and anger and desire for revenge after the death of Lucille. The very inception of the place stemmed from the worst parts of Negan, and no matter how much Negan rationalizes it, no matter how many rules he creates to justify Sanctuary's relevance, it will never be freed of the ghosts that haunt it, of the blood and bones it was built on.

I know I talk a lot about the significance of Lucille the bat (Negan's heart and dick wrapped in barbed wire, the most vulnerable symbol of his past turned into his most brutal weapon) but I think Sanctuary holds the same place as an embodiment of the best and worst parts of Negan: the name itself promises refuge, peace, shelter and security, but Negan has fostered an atmosphere of ruthless violence and competition inside it, has kept the workers subdued and turned the Saviors into a feral pack of dogs lashing out against everything and everyone. Like Lucille, Negan's Sanctuary is fenced and weaponized, its boundaries covered in walkers to keep everyone at bay. There's little humanity in Sanctuary, like there's little humanity left in Negan. It's there, but it's faint and it's kept fenced in, tucked away inside an impenetrable fortress. It never ceases to amaze me that with all the resources at his disposal, Negan could have made Sanctuary a place worthy of the name. It's clear he knows how to make a place attractive (his room is glorious in a bachelor pad kind of way, and so are the harem and the room meant for Daryl). But he doesn't. Instead he keeps the factory gloomy and frightening. Because the Sanctuary, like Lucille, was created out of grief and fury. Negan doesn't want to make it hospitable. He wants it to be a punishment on himself and everyone around him.

I'll finish with this glorious line, which encompasses Negan's jealousy, his pettiness, and his reflex to lash out at the people he cares about because he's still, deep down, a wounded animal snapping at everyone who tries to help him:

“Since you like cleaning up after Mark so much, get a mop. Your boy made a mess,” Negan sneers before brushing past him.

Conclusion; tldr: This fic is an oven and I'm turning the temp all the way up. Carl and Negan are terribly horny for each other, but it's all part of the cooking process. Negan is marinating Carl in beer. Carl is having a dreadful time remembering that the man he jerks off to is still a monster. Negan is the most tragic character ever and the Sanctuary is basically the haunted manor in a Gothic Victorian story. Only one chapter left for part 2.