#but I really didn't have enough time so apologies :(

[cvnt4him]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well, I’ve been a silent fan for a while and I really appreciate and love your work so I wanted to request how Katsuki and/or izuku would would react to reader flashing them during or after a heated argument If you could :)) you decide if you want it to be smut or not, Thank you!!

ty for your love and support! I giggled while reading this lol

Katsukiᡣ𐭩

during an argument.

Katsuki was really heated this evening and you certainly hadn't made anything better with your bickering. It's not as if you yourself were upset, you were just nagging a bit. Katsuki, as someone who is normally really clean and good at picking up behind himself, just trudged through your front door shedding his shoes in the living room and flopping down onto your couch. Not greeting or saying hello to you, not offering to help or take a load off of you. Nothing.

You understand he's been working today but a hello would've been more than enough for you. You've just missed him a bit more than normal that morning and wanted to feel his touch. You spoke only a word to him about how you felt and he was already giving you an attitude. You could only scoff at his sass and angry voice. Most of the time when he got angry you'd get angry, but this time you couldn't handle him.

You really didn't feel like arguing or just yelling back at him. With a blank face you just stared at him as he spat words out at you while he sat back against the couch. You sigh to yourself and simply lift your shirt and allow your boobs to freely fall out. Katsuki who was staring directly at you watched your every movement as he spoke, not expecting you to do that he suddenly stops speaking.

You raise one brow and try your hardest not to snicker at his surprised expression, a dust of pink brushing his cheeks. You heard a small breath leave his slackened jaw as he stared you up and down for a couple of minutes. You pull your shirt down and clear your throat before addressing him.

“ now then.. are you done? Jesus, katsuki, all I wanted was a hello and for you to not throw your things-”

Before you could finish your sentence he was quick to get up and throw you over his shoulder. You yell out and question what he's doing.

“ if yer so keen on talking over me; let's see if you can even get a word out when I'm through with ya.”

Izukuᡣ𐭩

after an argument.

You just wanted to feel appreciated was all, you did your best with dinner and looking well for him only to get nothing in return. You wish you hadn't had blown up on him, and it really did break your heart having him yell at you...but goodness that angry expression he had, the way he grit his teeth and breathed heavily. You could see a tinge of regret behind his eyes, he isn't one to normally snap so easily.

The two of you took a bit of a break from each other, just taking 5 minutes in separate rooms to cook off. You were never really angry, sure a bit upset but you just wanted your husband. That need for him never went away it only grew.

Izuku, ready to apologize, walked back into your shared bedroom to address the situation. He felt he'd gone too far and that arguing and him raising his voice wasn't necessary. Things could've been resolved in better ways by simply talking them out.

As you heard your husband out, watching as he spoke with his hands as well as his apologetic voice. You simply smiled at him, watching as his sad eyes had trouble staying connected to yours. Your hands slowly brang themselves up to your shirt and you lifted it just as slowly allowing you to tease him a bit. He immediately stopped talking and his eyes flickered from your eyes straight to your bare chest his jaw falling slack as his eyes widened. A small noise leaving him as he completely forgot what he was talking about.

You remove your shirt as a whole and walk towards him in only your underwear, his hand immediately flying to your sides as he gulps down struggling to look at you.

“ I know another way....you can make it up to me.”

“...deal.”

[dracosprettygirl]

HERE ME OUTTT, theo and draco's little sister who's been sheltered and maybe a little too loved by her family for her whole life. like hello? them being promised to each other since birth, it took a while but theo starts calling her his little fiance around school 😭

ღ my fiancée

Pairing: fiance!theo x malfoy!reader Word Count: 919 WordsSummary: You’ve spent your life being Draco Malfoy’s baby sister — protected, pampered, and promised to Theodore Nott since childhood. It’s never felt real… until Theo starts calling you his fiancée around school, and you realize he’s not joking. Warnings: Light teasing, overprotective!draco, angst, emotional confusion, familial expectations, arranged marriage, not proofread, let me know if i missed anything! A/N: sincere apologies because it took me too long to post today—i fell off a motorcycle lmao.

♫ invisible string by taylor swift.

You'd been called a lot of things at Hogwarts — princess, Malfoy's little sister, too polite to be a Slytherin. None of it ever really bothered you.

Being Draco's younger sister came with its own gravitational pull. People either bowed to the family name or avoided you like you were dipped in dark magic. Either way, you were never given the chance to just be.

Except around Theo.

Theodore Nott had always been there. At family gatherings, at summer dinners, standing silently at Draco's side since you were both children. Where Draco was loud and proud, Theo was quiet, watchful — never cruel, never unkind.

He was just... always watching.

You didn't realize how closely until sixth year.

It started with a rumor.

Someone had whispered in the corridor outside Charms, not even subtle about it.

"Did you hear? Nott calls her his fiancée now."

You'd almost dropped your ink pot.

When you confronted him, red-faced and wide-eyed, he just looked at you with that maddening smirk and said, "What? It's true. Don't look so scandalized, little fiancée."

You choked on your own tongue.

He did it again at breakfast two days later.

You were pouring tea when he slid into the seat beside you and drawled, "Careful, princess. Can't have my future wife scalding herself before our wedding night."

Draco snapped his head around so fast you heard the crack. Theo just sipped his tea.

It became a thing.

Casual, flippant references — "My betrothed," "My darling girl," "Future Mrs. Nott, don't forget your quill" — all with the smoothness only Theo could pull off.

You didn't know how to react.

You'd known about the arrangement. Of course you had. Your parents had teased you both about it since you were ten, usually after dessert and a few too many goblets of wine.

But it had never felt real. Just a fancy future wrapped in pureblood politics and outdated customs.

Until Theo started walking you to class.

Until he brushed your hand with his fingers every time he passed you a scroll, every touch deliberate.

Until you caught him staring across the common room with something dark and fond in his eyes.

It was all too much.

And somehow not nearly enough.

Draco cornered him first.

You found out because Pansy, ever the gossip, whispered about it between pages of Witch Weekly.

"Your brother nearly hexed Theo in the corridor by the Astronomy Tower," she said, chewing her licorice wand. "He said something about knowing exactly what Theo's playing at."

You tried not to let it show, but it did. Theo noticed.

He always noticed.

That evening, you fled to the greenhouse, needing space to think.

You shouldn't have been surprised when he found you there.

You heard the door creak open but didn't turn around. You were seated on the edge of a stone bench, watching the enchanted vines ripple under moonlight.

"I'm not stalking you, if that's what you're thinking," Theo said, voice low and amused. "Draco would kill me."

You didn't look at him. "You shouldn't joke about it."

He walked around to face you anyway, hands in his pockets, dark hair slightly messy from the wind. His tie was loose. His gaze wasn't.

"I don't joke about you."

Your heart did something painful in your chest.

"Then what are you doing?" you asked, finally looking up at him. "All the teasing, the names—are you trying to embarrass me? Humiliate me in front of the entire school?"

He blinked. "Is that what you think?"

You stood, crossing your arms. "I think you've had your fun."

A long silence. Then, softer: "I think I've been in love with you for longer than I know how to say. And I think calling you my fiancée is the only way I know how to protect what I feel without ruining it."

You froze.

Theo took a step closer.

"I don't care about the arrangement. I would've chosen you anyway. Even if we'd met as strangers. Even if you weren't Draco's sister or the girl who always reads at breakfast or the only person who ever asked if I wanted seconds at Sunday dinner."

You swallowed, throat tight.

"I said those things because they were true," he said. "And I thought maybe—just maybe—you'd want them to be true too."

Your voice was barely a whisper. "I didn't think you wanted me."

His expression softened — all the teasing melted away. He reached out, fingers curling around yours.

"I don't just want you," he murmured. "I've been yours. Quietly. Always."

Your fingers tightened in his.

"You called me your fiancée in front of everyone," you said, blushing.

He smiled. "They should know."

"And what if I want to be something more than a name?"

"You already are."

He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away.

You didn't.

His lips were warm and gentle against yours, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

When he pulled back, your forehead rested against his.

"You really mean it?" you whispered. "This isn't just a game?"

"No games," he said softly. "Just you. And me. And the fact that I plan to make you mine whether the contract says so or not."

The next morning, the Great Hall went quiet when Theo slid onto the bench beside you and dropped a soft kiss to your cheek.

Draco nearly spat his pumpkin juice across the table.

Theo just smirked.

"Morning, fiancée."

You didn't blush this time.

You kissed his cheek right back.

taglist !

@belovedenzo

© dracosprettygirl.tumblr 2025. do not copy, translate or claim any of my works as your own. reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated & motivating!

[lemonabouttodrop]

How Could You?

Azriel x Reader fic

Summary: Azriel’s sharp words cut deeper than either of them expected, leaving a silence heavy with unspoken feelings. You walk away, heart aching, while Azriel is left alone with regret he won’t yet let himself address.

Warnings: Angst. Hurt no comfort (for now?). No use of y/n.

Note: As you'll probably realize after reading this, yes indeed, this is my first fic ever. I've been reading- fangirling over- the scarily talented writers on here and just thought to give it a try. So, by all means, lemme know if i should stop trying.😭

[part2] linked here.

He didn't realize what he'd said until it was too late. Until they stood there in utter silence. Until you walked away. Until his very being was telling him to go after you and his shadows had moved to the corners of the room as if disgusted by him.

He hadn't meant it, of course he hadn't meant it. But he'd said it anyways and so he sat, in the kitchen of the House of Wind, with his head in his hands as his mind replayed the moment your face fell. The moment you registered his poisoned words.

It had been a stupid fight to begin with, he realized. You'd ignored his orders of simple observation and instead jumped into battle. Typical. You'd gotten the job done, sure. Yet he couldn't help but panic at the thought of your identity being revealed. You didn't even live in the House of Wind for him to keep an eye on you and your safety. And so, one mistake could cost you your life.

And that scared him more than he'd ever admit.

Yet, for him to shout like that? He'd practically cornered you the minute you'd winnowed back, still battered and bruised from the fight. And he couldn't fathom why he'd lost control like so.

Or that is what he told himself at least.

But he'd been pissed and scared.

Now he'd probably messed up the one good thing in his life.

The one joy.

It had been 3 days 2 nights 7 hours and 18 minutes since you'd talked to him.

It had been 1 days and around 8 hours, still counting, since you'd even looked at him.

He. was. losing. his. goddamn. mind.

His shadows seemed to be just as revolted by his words as him. They reached out to you constantly, even if you were no where near him.

That was the problem. You didn't want to be around him at all.

Every single time he tried to talk to you, tried to get you to even look at him. You managed to find ways to avoid him.

You weren't even trying to hide that anymore. Everybody knew something was up but nobody dared question what happened considering how Azriel looked like he'd smite the first person who talked to him.

He was distracted constantly these days. He used to always schedule a few hours of doing nothing so that he could talk to you, train you, have lunch with you, go shopping. Whatever your heart desired.

Now? Now he'd spend those hours training, to get you off his mind and yet, thoughts of you plagued his every waking moment.

He must've thought of a hundred different scenarios of how he would apologize to you. Hundreds of scenarios, most of which ended with him begging and pleading yet none seemed enough. None seemed worthy of the hurt he'd caused.

Nothing seemed worthy of you.

You were his spy, of course he'd taught you well. And now you were using his own teachings against him it seemed. You were anywhere he wasn't, and though it hurt you to blatantly avoid him so, it hurt more to know what Azriel really thought of you.

To know that the worst things you thought of yourself were exactly what he thought too.

To know that when he would take care of you after missions, he was probably just coddling you.

And when he would listen to you as you opened up to him, under the stars, in the darkest hours of the night, all he might have been doing was taking pity on you.

To know that you might just have been another project to him. Another thing to fix.

To know that the one person who truly fully knew you, also saw the ugliest parts of you and also considered them as weaknesses.

And so you did the one thing you knew to do best, you hid and you shut down.

You weren't a very quiet person but every time you would come to the House of Wind, which wasn't very often now, the reminder of his words seem to just pull your tongue out, tie it into a tight knot and shove it somewhere deep in your heart.

Because although you were a spy of the Night Court, fierce and unyielding. Though you held up your centuries old carefully crafted facade of the strong fearless faerie, he'd seen through it all and it scared you how much his words seemed to affect you.

How close to heartbreak this felt.

part 2 linked here aswell.

[fiastomatocheek]

WHERE IT HURTS ME THE MOST

requested: yes | req: okay so my idea is reader and will are arguing and she's got a short temper and so will is kinda dialing in on insults related to that. and i guess to make this make sense, she had a past boyfriend that didn't treat her the best so her anger is a coping mechanism and a safety net for herself so she doesn't get hurt again but he's never seen her cry at all (about that situation or anything else) in the time they've been dating. and they're just going back and forth and back and forth and finally will says something like ‘well i get why your ex left because you're so stubborn and angry all the time. if you got your anger under control maybe some good things would happen to you’ and it just breaks her. like she stops fighting and when she goes to leave, will sees the tears welling in her eyes and he knows immediately that he fucked up. and she isolates herself and no one hears from her for days until finally will finds her at her apartment and he apologizes or something like that? please and thank you!

pair: will smith x f!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, romance.

warnings: past emotional abuse, toxic ex mentioned, yelling/argument, emotional breakdown, isolation, hurtful dialogue, emotional vulnerability, but ends with comfort and healing.

summary: you only asked will for one thing is that to check in after practice. it wasn’t a demand. just a simple gesture. but when a small concern turns into a spiraling argument, will crosses a line he never should’ve touched. and the moment he sees you cry for the first time, he realizes exactly how much damage he’s done.

fia’s note: never been in a toxic relationship before *praying this kind of love never finds me* so i’m not really sure what else to add, but i hope you enjoy it anywayyy. love you all lots!! my fav little 🍅s. alsooo i’d love if some of you could recommend me a few will smith angst fics to read, i’m in the mood to suffer a little. and i’m currently open to dad!luke hughes requests too!! he doesn’t get nearly enough dad delulu content on here and i desperately need it.

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @kell9rs @nokiaholland

fia’s masterlist | join fia’s taglist | fic discussion

“Hey,”

Will greeted casually, wiping his damp forehead with the edge of his shirt after tossing his gear bag down by the entryway.

“Hi,” you replied flatly.

He paused, glancing at you. “Everything… okay?”

“I don’t know. Did something happen after practice? You usually text.”

He looked up from unlacing his shoes.

“Yeah, sorry. Coach kept us longer than usual.”

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

“You still could’ve sent a text. Just… anything.”

He let out a breath, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Babe, I was busy. And you know I don’t take my phone on the ice.”

“I know,” you said quietly.

“But it’s not about the rink. It’s about after. You had it once practice ended. You just didn’t use it.”

“You’re mad?”

“I’m not mad,”

You said, eventhough the frustration in your tone told a different story.

“I just… it would’ve taken two seconds to text ‘I’m okay’. That’s all I needed.”

Will tossed his hoodie over the back of the chair.

“I was exhausted. I didn’t think you’d be this upset about it.”

“That’s the problem,” you snapped.

“You didn’t think. About me. About how I sit here wondering if something happened. If you got hurt. I know it sounds stupid, but it matters to me.”

“It’s not stupid,”

He said quickly, but the way he rubbed his temples suggested he didn’t quite mean it.

“It’s just… I don’t get why it’s always a big thing.”

“It’s not always a big thing,” you said, voice rising.

“You just make me feel like I’m asking for too much everytime I express something that bothers me.”

“Because you come at me like I’ve already failed.”

You stared at him. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you actually listened when I talk.”

Will’s jaw clenched. “I do listen, I do. But you’re always so angry. Every conversation turns into a fight.”

And just like that, your anger cut deeper than he probably intended.

You turned away, trying to collect yourself.

But Will didn’t stop.

“It’s like you’re constantly looking for something to go wrong. I come home and you’re already on edge, like you’re bracing for a war that hasn’t even started.”

“Maybe because I am bracing,”

You snapped, spinning back toward him.

“You don’t know what it’s like to live in a state of defense. To have someone chip away at you every fucking day until the only thing left is armor.”

Will’s expression now is confused, overwhelmed, cornered.

“I’m not your ex, babe.”

“I never said you were. But sometimes you make me feel like I have to prepare for the worst. Like if I don’t say something now, I’ll end up swallowed by silence, again.”

He scoffed. “You can’t compare me to him everytime you’re upset.”

“I’m not! I’m just trying to explain why I am the way I am!”

“Then maybe work on changing it.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” he muttered, frustration bleeding through,

“You always expect me to cater to your triggers, your past, your baggage but when do you take responsibility for how you react?”

“I am taking responsibility,” you said.

“I’m telling you what I need so we don’t spiral like this. And you’re acting like I’m attacking you.”

Will stepped back, tone turning cold.

“You know what? Fine. Be angry. Be stubborn. That’s all you ever do anyway.”

You flinched.

And then he said it. The most hurtful things you’ve ever heard.

“Well, I get why your ex left. Because you’re so stubborn and angry all the time. If you got your anger under control, maybe some good things would happen to you.”

A breath. A heart broken.

All of the pain hit all at once, your body stilled, your face blanked. Your eyes went glassy, your fists clenched at your sides.

Will’s face dropped as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Wait no, I didn’t mean that, I—”

But it was too late.

Your voice cracked as you whispered,

“You were supposed to be different.”

You turned, grabbed your keys, and… left.

It’s had been three days eversince that day you left his apartment, eversince the you hadn’t answered a single message.

Not the texts. Not the voicemails. Not even the flowers he sent that sat untouched outside your apartment door.

Will was unraveling, everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the way your face shattered, how your mouth opened in shock, but no words came, your eyes filled with tears those tears you never let him see before you slipped out the door without another word.

Now, soaked from the rain, he used the spare key you gave him months ago, stepping into your apartment with a heart heavy enough to drown him this time.

You were there.

When you looked up and saw him, you didn’t move.

“Please…”

He said quietly, shutting the door behind him.

“Just… let me say this.”

You looked so tired. So hollow.

Will knelt beside the couch, water dripping from his head onto the floor.

“I know… I know I said the one thing I should’ve never said. But I need you to understand… I wasn’t angry at you. I was scared. Scared I was failing you. And instead of being patient, I chose to be cruel.”

Your eyes flicked toward him, lips trembling.

“You’ve told me what your anger protects. I should’ve respected that. I should’ve seen that what I call ‘yelling’ is really just the sound of you trying not to drown.”

He hesitated, then reached for your hand so gentle, barely a brush.

“I love you. Not in the convenient way. Not just when things are easy. I love you when you’re quiet, soft. But I also love you when you’re loud and afraid. I love you when you’re angry because I know that anger comes from pain you never deserved.”

Will moved slowly, sitting beside you, careful not to push too far.

“You don’t have to protect yourself from me. Not with words. Not with walls. I’m not going anywhere. No matter how loud it gets. No matter how hard it feels. I’m yours. Even when it’s not easy.”

“You are not too much. You were just never given the right space to be everything you are.”

Silence.

“And I want to be that space.”

You looked at him, crumpled and broken, and you believed him, your body leaned forward. Your hand reached for his. And when you finally pulled him into you, burying your face in his shoulder, he held you like the home he promised to be.

“I don’t need you to be okay all the time,”

Will added, voice shaking a little now.

“I just need you. However you are. However you come.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair.

“I’m so sorry.”

[asce-of-hearts]

repair man toji...

You remember that one time someone told you that before living alone, you should get a small tool kit and learn the basics of repairing electrodomestics.

Well, that clearly is shit advice, because now you're sitting in front of your broken kitchen sink, pieces everywhere. So, with your pride torn to shambles, you finally decide to call a repair service. Fortunately, the lady on the phone is sweet enough to understand your urgency, and sends someone right away.

As soon as you hear the knock on your door, you're running towards the door. You expect to find a regular plumber, instead, you're faced with two pecs the size of your face. And you look up, up, up, feeling smaller and smaller as you finally find the face of the guy the agency sent. He's big, no, big is an understatement. He is enormous, gigantic, barely able to not hit himself on the head as he looks down at you. His hair is messy, black bangs that cover his forehead. The uniform is too tight on him, you can tell by the way it almost pleads for you to free it of its suffering as it tries its hardest to stay together while gripping his enormous arms. And his eyes, mossy green. He has that look that he's done with everything, maybe he is, the way he cocks a brow and that scar over his lip stretches as he speaks.

"Did you need the service or...?" His words almost make you jump. With a quick nod you apologize and let him in, guiding him to the kitchen and showing him the little mess you made.

"I- I tried to follow a tutorial on youtube but... that clearly didn't work." You mumble, a sheepish smile over your face. He smirks, gently pushing you aside as he crouches down to examine your previous work.

"Don't worry 'bout that. I'll take care of it." He says, and gets to work immediately. Your eyes zero on his broad back, the way you can almost see the muscles as he loosens and fastens and does stuff to the intricate machinery of the pipes underneath your sink. How the veins in his arms pop up.

"So, uhm... you like your work as... as a repair guy..." You awkwardly try and make small talk, he only gives you a small hum in response.

"Not particularly." He says, and you have to force yourself to not look further downwards at where his pants seem to be stretched to the limit.

"Ah. That- That sucks?"

"Pays the bills. Couldn't strive for anything better anyways."

You're frozen in place, not knowing what else to do or say to distract yourself from the thoughts that plague your mind. The angel and the devil over your shoulders both screaming the same thing.

FUCK HIM. FUCK THIS GUY. FUCK HIM!!!!

His work ends sooner than you would've liked. And he leaves as soon as you pay him. His eyes lingering on places they shouldn't enough for you to notice, just a bit. Slightly disappointed, you make your way to the kitchen sink. Now working perfectly.

But you can for sure manage to break it again. Can't you?

The next thing to misteriously break after his service is your shower. You call the same agency, and plead for them to send the same guy. Toji, you got his name through the phone, and he will quickly be on his way.

Strangely, a pair of lacy, black underwear is left on the bathroom floor. Oh, how clumsy on your behalf, really. He gives you a playful smile that tries to disguise the lusty intent behind his eyes, and you can see the bulge that has you salivating. Surely it won't do no harm to have him stay for lunch, right? After all he has been just so good, and coming two days in a row must be an exhausting task.

So, when it's the fourth time this week that something has broken inside your apartment, and you have gotten his personal phone to have him come aid you. He decides to teach you himself.

"You wanna know how to repair a bed?" He grins, predatory. And your eyes widen, confused.

"My bed isn't—"

Those words have died long inside your mouth long ago as Toji pounds your little hole with the force of a man who hates you. Even when it's quite the opposite, he hates the little games you have played, when you could've had him in your bed since the very beginning. He would've never refused a slutty little thing like you.

"You were sayin'?" He grunts in your ear, slapping your ass hard as he forces your face further into the mattress with his hand. Ass up, face down, just how he likes it. And he continues, the incessant plapping and slapping of wet skin against wet skin making everything around you spin in circles that have you oh so dizzy. And his hands, they rest on your scalp, pulling you to force your back into the lewdest arch as he makes you squirt over your already soiled sheets. Cum leaking from your pretty cunt in industrial quantities. "Maybe I'll hafta fix you this time. You're so stupid and cock-drunk already." Another smack to your ass, and you're howling as your insides constrict his cock with force, not wanting him to pull out ever again.

The rough pads of his fingers come to toy with your clit, to squeeze and pull and pinch at your pretty nipples. He's grinning, he's a wolf, he's ruthless.

"You like ex-convict cock that much, dirty girl?" He croons, and you nod, drooling as he continues to ravage you at a fast and hard pace. "Say it, mama. Tell me how much you love my dick."

"I- I luv— So good, Toji—!" You manage to slurr out, making him thrust harder if that was even possible. Pumping another load inside your womb. The tip of his cock smooching your cervix time and time again.

And then you hear it, and you scream when the bed gives in to his force and finally collapses on the ground. At least you're safe and secure in Toji's arms. Breathing heavily, sweaty, sticky, and his.

"This... this service is on the house." He murmurs, staring at your pretty, fucked out face.

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[alchemistc]

Based on my own post from earlier this evening because I can't stop thinking about it.

vanilla

He doesn't mean to see it. He swears. It's just - Tommy's laptop is right there and Buck's is all the way in the office and if he doesn't look up the lifespan of a Cecropia moth right now he's going to forget about it for a month only to remember in the middle of something vitally more important than watching Planet Earth reruns.

So he twists the thing around from its spot on the side table, boots it back up, types in Tommy's password (pA$$word3, because no one would ever guess that he'd be both so lazy and so creative in his laziness), and watches Firefox boot itself up. It's an older laptop, and Tommy doesn't take great care of it - case and point, he didn't even close out of his tabs, they're all still there, and - well. Shit.

That's the most ridiculous dildo he's ever seen.

Biggest, too.

Jesus.

Buck immediately forgets 100% of what he was doing.

And - and looking up Tommy's history is absolutely a line crossed - there's no reason for him to fucking spiral just because there's a bright purple dragon something on the screen with a base as wide as Buck's thigh. There's no reason why he should -

He clicks the search history and regrets it pretty immediately.

That kills two hours.

He has three more until Tommy's off shift, and now everything is worse. Because.

Okay so.

Like.

They have a pretty healthy sex life, Buck thinks. A year into Tommy and Buck Part Two and they still can't keep their hands off each other. And - so, like, sue him for preferring all the boring stuff he never really got to enjoy long term - the way he knows Tommy goes a little crazy when they're lying on their sides and Buck can just slip right in and press his lips to Tommy's shoulder, tuck his hand under Tommy's where he's got it on his chest, curl their fingers together and just breath into each thrust. Sue him for liking it when they're face to face and Tommy's looking up at him with the pads of his fingers tracing the shell of Buck's ear and he can see the love love love in his eyes, see the way his tongue curls out Buck's name like a prayer. Sue him for his fantasies always drifting to that sunny afternoon in their bed, Buck on his belly and Tommy everywhere around him, over him, inside of him, humming useless nothings into Buck's ear while the sweat from their skin eased the chafe of being pressed together from pelvis to collarbone.

Buck picks up his phone. Watches the familiar name ring out one, two, three - answered on the fourth ring.

"Am I not kinky enough, do you think?" Buck asks, and gets a drawn out moment of silence.

"Nope," Ravi says, and the call drops.

And who else is he gonna call, really? Hen and Chim? (Hard no, they nipped that in the bud back when Buck and Tommy were still in Part One) Maddie? Another line too far, but this one he doesn't feel like crossing today. Eddie? If he'd even pick up?

Buck dials out again.

Ravi picks up on the second ring. "Buck, I love you man, but I get a front row seat to your little love fest at least once a week, four hours a night. I am not equipped or willing to help you with your sex life."

Fair. That's fair. Boundaries are important. Ravi does an excellent job of setting his up and announcing where they are.

"It's just I found something in Tommy's browser that -."

"Absolutely not. I'll block your number for twenty-four hours."

"Right. Cool. Sure thing." Buck breathes.

"Talk to Tommy, if you're freaking out about it." Ravi caves, just a bit. "Every time. I say this every time, and it always works, doesn't it?"

True. On both accounts. When did Ravi become his go to guy?

(When he started picking up the phone whenever Buck called. When he came to Buck with his own shit and didn't apologize for it.)

"Yeah. You're right. I'm gonna talk to him."

"We're still on for Friday, right?"

Buck has to search his memory to figure out what he's referencing. Tommy's taking Ravi to the farmers market over in Venice Beach that Buck refuses to go to on principle because Sherri's Treats aren't even homemade. She gets the baked goods from Costco and decorates them with store brand icing.

"Talk to Tommy," Buck throws back, just to be a brat, and Ravi sighs.

"Touche."

He's still freaking out when the call ends three minutes later, and he doesn't want to have to pull this trigger.

Except. Like. It's still there. Right on Tommy's screen. Watching him.

The phone rings six times.

He's contemplating how ridiculous it is to leave a voicemail when Lucy answers with a groggy "'lo?"

"Am I not kinky enough?" Buck asks, and gets the start of a cackle and then a long, slow pause.

She's gonna hang up on him. She's absolutely going to -

"It's ten-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday, Buckley."

And it sure is.

God, this would never have happened if he hadn't started an update on his phone mid-episode.

"Walk me through it," she continues, all business, all of a sudden, and so Buck tells her, grateful for her hums and uhuh's as she starts her day. Buck talks over the sound of her brushing her teeth, and pouring her coffee, and absolutely doesn't mention that he thinks she should probably have better sleeping patterns while he spirals about Tommy being unsatisfied with the sex they have.

"Gonna break bro code here a little to tell you you have literally nothing to worry about there. Seriously. You're getting gold stars every night, I promise you."

"He's been looking up gimp suits and gags, Lucy!"

She's quiet on the other end, for a moment.

Then she starts laughing.

Again.

Which is a great feeling for Buck. He loves it when Lucy laughs at him.

"Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry. Honey those aren't for you."

Well, now he's kinda mad at the implication that Tommy would -

"Not for Tommy, either," she interrupts, like she knows where that spiral leads. "I forgot what time of year it was. This is new for you."

"What's new for me?"

He can picture the sly grin on her face as she pours something into a bowl - milk maybe. Then cereal.

God, what a psycho.

"Tommy and an army buddy of his have had this escalating prank war going on for like...seven, eight years? I don't know, I wasn't here at the start of it, but I guess it started as the most heterosexual man you've ever met trying to be a good ally to his newly out buddy and sending a set of butt plugs to the only address of Tommy's he had available."

Weird. But not the weirdest thing he's ever heard. "Which was?"

"Oh, Harbor. Yeah. Got it his first week there. So now every year on the anniversary they try to send each other shit at work that should technically be grounds for a sexual harassment claim from their coworkers. Last year Tommy got a fully custom furry suit. Dude probably dropped thirty grand on that thing."

He shouldn't ask. He definitely shouldn't -

"It was a horse. Because of his big fat -."

"I get the picture, thanks."

"So yeah. It's coming up on time for them to push a boundary a little too far and actually have someone complain about it, this time. They won't stop until one of them gets a write up."

It's kinda funny. Kinda sweet, too, in that really weird way military men are with each other. Irrationally, Buck kinda wants to slew foot the guy for being an unintentionally massive flirt.

Straight dudes are the literal worst at allyship, in the weirdest ways possible.

"He's out of state, so don't go getting territorial, Buckley."

Never gonna live that down.

"But seriously though? Back to the original point. Which is you freaking out that Tommy is unsatisfied in your sex life. Number one: talk to him. You guys are the actual worst. Always gotta have a second opinion before you bite the bullet and do the normal thing. Number two: I know too much. And I know you have nothing to worry about. Number three: when he gets home I want you to record his reaction when you turn the laptop screen on him like a spurned wife and send it to me. I'm having a bad day. I could use the entertainment."

"You just woke up."

"And had to talk an old coworker down from a ledge about how satisfying his sex life is with a current coworker. Bareback, no lube, just wake up and go."

"I think this also counts as sexual harassment."

"You started this conversation with 'am I kinky enough' so I'm not super concerned."

By the time he gets off the phone with Lucy he's very firmly on solid ground. And also wondering exactly how much Tommy actually talks about their sex life when he's not around. Tommy keeps things pretty close to the vest. He can't imagine he's going around bragging about that time he started crying when Buck hit his prostate right as he licked into his mouth and slid a hand up his arm to link their fingers together.

Maybe in less detail.

Something about seeing God, maybe. That seems more like his style.

---

Tommy has a routine, when he gets home from work. Keys hung up, jacket on the coat rack, duffle tucked into one of the cubbies of his makeshift mud room. Shoes under the bench, two minutes of head scritches for Goose as she meows her way down the hall to greet the only man she'll ever love.

(Buck's super cool about the fact that Tommy's breakup cat hates him. Totally chill.)

When Goose has had her fill and darted off to go bounce off the walls of the office, Tommy likes to amble in to whatever room Buck is in and drape himself across Buck's back for a moment, mouth pressed to the knob of Buck's spine, hands roaming for a moment before he manages a greeting.

He's making risotto for dinner when he hears the lock click in the front door.

He's ignoring Lucy's text reminding him to get a reaction shot.

He listens to Tommy talk back to Goose like he understands every "mrow" listens for the shuffle of socked feet down the hall, listens to him pad across the kitchen tiles, braces himself for the dead weight of Tommy against his back.

Tommy's got a hand halfway up his shirt when he mumbles into Buck's ear. "So I hear we have something to talk about."

"Ravi snitched."

"Ravi still thinks I'm the sensible one, of the two of us."

Buck snorts. Tips his head back against Tommy's shoulder and basks in the moment while Tommy buries his nose behind Buck's ear.

"Before I say anything else, I know you said I can use your laptop whenever I want but you should know I definitely snooped where I shouldn't and jumped to some wild conclusions. Which Lucy has already cleared up on your behalf, because apparently we're both too chicken shit to have a conversation without using a lifeline."

Tommy stills. "I didn't close out my browser session last time, did I?"

"You did not."

"And Lucy told you about the horse costume Dom sent me last year."

"She sure did. She very specifically called it a furry suit, though."

Tommy blows out an exasperated breath against his neck. "And you were freaking out because...?"

"I thought maybe you were bored with the sex we have."

That gets Tommy going. He pulls free just to get enough leverage to spin Buck to face him, hands on his hips and eyes catching Buck's like if he doesn't see Buck's eyes in the next five seconds he'll do something crazy, and Buck doesn't really know how he got so lucky but he's not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if it's a furry.

"Evan. Please understand when I say this I'm not exaggerating. Our sex is life altering. I want to have slow, quiet, vanilla sex with you until the day I die."

"Which won't be for like another fifty years."

Tommy hums. "I'm gonna be popping Blue Chew when I'm ninety-five and have two bum hips."

"Oh, so I have to do all the work?"

"Why do you think I dated younger?"

Buck has to kiss him about it. And then he has to pull back and duck his head to remind Tommy of the part he blazed right past. "Full disclosure, when I said I snooped I meant I went into your search history."

Tommy's chuckle shakes them both. "I figured. You go back far enough to find the single porn link in amidst all the shitty plastic used actuators for sale on eBay?"

"I'm not a masochist, Tommy." Figures he'd get so frustrated looking for a part to fix the rattling in the Jeeps dash he'd want to rub one out. Usually takes him more than a single video, though. Probably he'd decided he'd feel too guilty to actually get off until he had the part ordered.

Tommy shifts his weight a bit. Wedges a knee in between Buck's legs. His eyes get that sparkle to them that means he finds Buck to be an adorable menace. "How married to the risotto are you?" he asks, hands shifting from Buck's hips to behind his thighs.

"Not - not terribly." It had been a distraction from thinking about Tommy's army buddy, mostly. The recipe still isn't perfected and even though Tommy's complimented it every time, Buck can tell it's missing something and Tommy is just letting him figure it out on his own.

"Maybe we could order in and I can show you how satisfied I am with your service."

"We - that's definitely an option. On the table."

"How about this very sturdy counter, instead?"

They haven't done it somewhere not-the-bed in months.

Their knees aren't gonna thank them for it.

Buck has to attempt to ignore Tommy mouthing at his neck to remember if there are enough ice packs in the freezer for the both of them, right now.

"Yeah - yep, let's do that instead."

Tommy gets both hands under his ass and lifts.

He doesn't quite swoon over the move, anymore, but it still makes him more than a little giddy.

"Wait, did you decide on the dildo over the gimp suit, because if you're escalating at the same rate as your friend I think -."

"Can we talk about Dom after I get my satisfaction scores in, please?"

"Shutting up now."

"I don't believe that for a second," Tommy says, and then shuts him up with his mouth anyway, just for good measure.

[lyvhie]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “fell for you”.

| summary | Mark didn't know that being clumsy had its advantages. | cw | fluff, strangers to something else, meet-cute?, kiiinda of love at first sight, mark is downnn bad, mark is shy but HE GOT THIS!!| | a/n | my beautiful @peterm4rker, feliz cumpleeee!! i hope you have an amazing day, thank you for being alive, i only exist on your cellphone, so all i can do for u is a silly fic, but i did it with love 😔 TUMBLR SABOTAGED ME AND DIDN'T POST, I CAN'T BELIEVE I FAILED I HAD ONE JOB 😭😭😭 i hope u like it EVERYONE SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUCI WE LOVE YOU!!!

Mark hadn’t been able to tear his eyes off you since the moment you stepped onto the dance floor. Actually, it started even earlier, when you accidentally bumped into him, nearly causing him to spill his drink all over himself.

He’d only caught a brief glimpse of you then, but it was enough. The image of you had carved itself into his mind like a permanent imprint—your eyes, framed by just the right touch of color, glowing with a playful spark. Your lips, glossy and shining, curved into a polite little smile as you muttered a quick apology.

He barely managed to say “it’s okay” in return, too stunned to form anything more coherent. He was usually the type to get flustered easily, yes, but something about you completely disarmed him.

From that moment on, his attention was glued to you for the rest of the night. He watched the way you moved so effortlessly with the rhythm, the sway of your body in perfect sync with the music, the way you tossed your head back when you laughed, bright and carefree. You leaned in to say something to a friend, smiling as they nudged you playfully, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes followed every motion like a magnet.

He wasn't completely sure, but he could’ve sworn you glanced his way a few times too—just quick flickers of your eyes in his direction, barely enough to be sure, but enough to set his nerves on fire.

Watching you from across the room, radiant and completely in your element, Mark stood frozen in place, drink hanging loosely from his fingers, heart pounding in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

“Is that a new flirting technique?” Chenle’s voice cut through the music, amused and sharp, but Mark’s eyes remained glued to you.

“What?” Mark replied absently, not tearing his gaze away. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Chenle huffed, reaching out to nudge Mark’s chin up with two fingers, “are you trying to send telepathic signals until she magically develop the ability to receive them?” He gave Mark a pointed look. “Because you’ve been standing here with your mouth open drooling like a golden retriever for the past thirty minutes.”

“I’m not doing that,” Mark grumbled, frowning as he crossed his arms, voice defensive like a kid caught red-handed.

“Yeah, sure you’re not,” Chenle snorted, the sarcasm practically dripping. He took a sip of his drink, raising a brow at his friend. “Seriously, just go talk to her. Is it really that difficult? You’re acting like she’s gonna bite.”

Mark shot him a side-eye. “What if she does?”

“You’re right, she might,” Chenle replied, casually glancing in your direction—just in time to catch the not-so-subtle way you were watching Mark from across the room, nibbling on your lower lip with your eyes slightly narrowed. “She definitely looks like she wants to,” he added with a smirk. “But I don’t think it’s the kind of bite you’re worried about.”

Mark’s brows rose slightly, caught off guard by Chenle’s words. His gaze flicked toward you instinctively—and, oh.

You were looking right at him. No mistaking it this time. Eyes locked, lip between your teeth in a way that made his brain short-circuit for a split second.

“…Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Chenle let out a laugh, elbowing him. “See? Told you. She’s just waiting for you to stop being a coward.”

Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I don't even know what to say to her.”

“You're talking like a fucking loser, Mark,” Chenle deadpanned, already on the move. He grabbed Mark by the shoulders and started to shove him forward, away from the bar and toward the dance floor. “You’ve done all kind of stuff and now you're scared of a pretty girl?”

“I wasn’t mentally prepared for a goddess tonight,” Mark hissed under his breath, feet dragging against the floor.

Chenle rolled his eyes. “You’ll survive. Just say hi. Or smile. Or blink in Morse code if that’s easier.”

He wanted to protest, to resist his friend's insistence, maybe even run back to the safety of the bar stool, but before he knew it, his feet had betrayed him. There he was, standing just a few steps behind you, frozen in place, staring at the back of your figure illuminated by the flashing lights.

He glanced at Chenle, who was grinning like the absolute menace he was, waving mockingly from the distance, mouthing something like “Good luck.”

Mark inhaled deeply, trying to steady the wild rhythm of his heartbeat. Okay. No turning back now.

He took one slow step forward, then another, using the few seconds he had before reaching you to rehearse every possible conversation in his head—witty lines, casual compliments, charming openers. He even prepared for rejection in all its brutal forms, from polite smiles to awkward laughs.

But he was so absorbed in the panic of how not to embarrass himself and how to maybe, somehow impress you, that he completely missed the fact that his shoelaces were undone.

And just like that, two seconds later, he was tripping over his own feet and stumbling straight into your direction, at the exact moment you turned around.

“Woah!” you gasped, instinctively catching him as he practically collapsed into your arms.

Mark was pretty sure this was how people died of embarrassment. His hands instinctively gripped your arms to steady himself, eyes wide as he looked up at you from his not-so-elegant lean.

"I—uh—hi," he stammered, frozen for a beat. "That wasn't... That wasn't part of the plan."

A soft laugh slipped from your lips, light and melodic, and even with the music pulsing loudly around you, he heard it clearly. The sound clung to his ears like a favorite song, and Mark was pretty sure it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard.

“I’ll give you points for impact,” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you watched him clumsily pull away, trying to regain some composure.

“Thank you,” he replied, sheepish, one hand instinctively reaching to rub the back of his neck. He was silently grateful for the club’s low lighting and the swirl of neon colors around you, hiding the fierce red blooming across his cheeks.

“That wasn’t exactly how I planned to come talk to you, but…” he let out a nervous chuckle, stealing a quick glance at your face, still surprised you hadn’t just walked away. "I'm Mark, by the way.”

He extended his hand—like an idiot, he thought—but couldn’t help the flicker of relief that crossed his face when you took it without hesitation, your fingers warm against his. You said your name, and it echoed in his head like a melody. God, what a beautiful name.

“Nice to meet you, Mark,” you replied, his name rolling off your tongue so smoothly it made his heart skip.

Was his name always this nice to hear, or was it just your voice?

“Do you go around falling into every girl’s arms you're interested in, or...?” your tone were playful, your eyes filled with amusement.

“That was actually only for you,” he said, flashing a smile so charming it made your stomach twist in the best way.

“Oh, so I'm the lucky one?” you teased, tilting your head as a grin tugged at your lips.

“I’m the lucky one, actually,” he replied without missing a beat, brows raising slightly as if the words had just slipped out. “Can I, um, get you a drink?”

His nervous look was absolutely adorable, you could never deny it, not that you were planning to. “Of course, lead the way.”

To say Mark was in disbelief over how well things were going—especially after that mortifying entrance—would be an understatement. But here you were, smiling at him, saying yes. He wasn’t about to question his luck.

As the two of you made your way to the bar and shared drinks, the atmosphere gradually relaxed. The alcohol helped a little, sure, but it was mostly you. You made things easy. You were attentive, engaged, and just… so genuinely interesting. Every new thing you said made him want to know more.

He was pretty sure he could get addicted to you.

“Oh, so you’re a singer, a songwriter, and you dance?” you asked, a playful eyebrow raised as your chin rested on your palm, eyes locked on his. “Can’t believe I’m talking to a celebrity right now.”

“Ah, come on,” he rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at his lip, which only widened when your laughter followed. “I just have a lot of hobbies, that’s all.”

You let out a low whistle. “Wow. Hobbies? What happened to being humble?” you teased, giving his shoulder a light push. “Next thing you’ll say is you’re only kind of good at them.”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “I mean… I’m decent,” he said, feigning modesty.

That made you laugh even harder, the sound bubbling out effortlessly. “Okay, okay then…” you said, glancing around the lively club for a beat before turning your eyes back to him—your gaze bright with amusement, excitement gleaming in your irises. “Since I can’t exactly fact-check the singing and songwriting right now, how about we test the dancing?”

Mark blinked, caught slightly off guard by the sudden switch, but your smile was too contagious, too inviting for him to say no.

“You want to dance?” he asked, a flicker of nervousness playing at the edge of his voice.

“Yes, let’s go!” you beamed, and before Mark could even get another word out, you were already grabbing his hand, tugging him with you toward the dance floor with that same infectious energy that had him hooked from the start.

The lights spun wildly above, the bass of the music thumping through the floor and right into his chest, but nothing felt as loud or electric as the warmth of your hand in his.

You turned to him once you found a spot, your fingers still loosely wrapped around his, your smile mischievous. “C’mon, don’t be shy now,” you teased, already swaying to the rhythm, tugging him gently by the hands to encourage him.

Mark chuckled, eyes glinting as he let himself be pulled into your orbit. At first, his movements were a bit hesitant, his usual confidence caught somewhere between the thump of the music and the closeness of you. But your energy was infectious—your laughter, the way you danced so freely, it all made him forget about being shy.

Soon enough, he was matching your pace, still a little clumsy, sure, but no longer holding back. And God, he was having fun. He couldn’t stop smiling. Not when you were so close, not when your body brushed against his in rhythm, not when he could smell your perfume each time you twirled back into him. It was dizzying. It was perfect.

Especially because it was you.

“You weren’t lying about being a dancer, huh?” you teased, voice softer now with the mellow change in music.

The two of you swayed gently, pressed close. Your arms hung loosely around his neck, while his hands rested on your hips—though only after you had guided them there, because he was adorably awkward about it at first.

“Can’t wait to know more about your other ‘hobbies’,” you added, flashing him a knowing smile.

“Oh, so you want to know more about me?” he asked, brows lifting, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I thought that was obvious since we sat down to talk and have a drink?” you shot back, raising your brows with the same playful energy.

Mark laughed, that kind of breathy, boyish laugh that warmed your chest. “Okay, okay… I was too nervous to notice that.”

His confession had you laughing, your head tipping forward until your forehead rested gently on his shoulder. Mark stood perfectly still, caught in the quiet moment, letting himself inhale the soft, warm scent of your hair.

“Then, I guess I’ll have to be more direct with you?” you asked, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes, your own twinkling with mischief.

“Well…” he gave a sheepish smile, his head swaying side to side. “It might help me out a little.”

That made you chuckle again, the sound curling around his ribs like sunshine.

“Alright then…” you paused, humming as if in deep thought, your gaze flicking down to his lips for a beat too long. “Can I kiss you?”

His heart practically leapt into his throat.

He blinked once. Then twice. “God, yes,” he breathed, the words escaping before he could even try to play it cool.

His endearing reaction had you chuckling and giving him a soft, warm gaze that completely melted him. You moved closer, and he followed without hesitation, as if pulled by some invisible string, completely enchanted.

Your lips hovered just a breath away from his, and his heart thundered in his chest. Then you leaned in, nibbling gently on his lower lip, teasing him with the kind of ease that made his knees threaten to give out.

“You are so cute,” you giggled softly, your voice brushing against his lips like velvet.

Was that even legal? He swore you were trying to kill him.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered back, voice low and reverent. Then, finally, he closed the remaining space between you.

His hands slid up to your neck, holding you tenderly as if you were something precious—because to him, you already were. His thumbs drew slow, soothing circles just under your ears, grounding him as your lips met fully.

The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, almost shy, but full of feeling. It deepened gradually, growing warmer, more certain, as your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

He only pulled away because, unfortunately, he needed to breathe if he didn’t want to literally die from kissing you (though, honestly, he wouldn’t mind if that were how he went).

“I think I like you,” he murmured, voice soft as he pressed a featherlight kiss to your lips again, his cheeks tinged with the sweetest shade of pink.

“Already?” you teased, giggling. “I think I like you too,” you replied before pressing a quick kiss of your own.

“Can I have your number?” he asked, a little coyly, his eyes glinting with both nerves and hope.

”You laughed again (your ninth time tonight, not that anyone was counting) and nodded. “Yes, Mark, you can.”

“Do you wanna go out tomorrow?” The words escaped him before his brain could catch up, like his mouth had given his heart the reins for good.

“Our official first date?” you asked, smile softening as you tilted your head.

“If you’ll let me,” he replied, hopeful, eyes never leaving yours.

You leaned in once more, lips brushing his in a promise. “I will.”

His lips were pressed into a thin line as he processed everything, eyes wide with disbelief, like he was still waiting to wake up from some wild dream. It was kind of adorable, actually, how unaware he was of his own charm. You couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Gorgeous, sweet, a little clueless… people like him were everyone’s weakness.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his big, brown eyes flicking over every inch of your face like he was truly admiring you.

“You don’t have to ask.”

And he didn’t hesitate after that. He leaned in, lips meeting yours with more certainty this time, melting into the kiss like it was exactly where he was supposed to be. And as he kissed you, one hand still resting at your neck, the other finding your waist, he swore—whatever this feeling was, it tasted a lot like heaven.

“Is it too soon to say I kinda love you already and would absolutely marry you today if you let me?” he asked with a grin, the kind that made your stomach do somersaults. His tone was playful, but his fingers were gentle as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear like you were something delicate and precious.

You snorted, raising a brow. “Let’s calm down a little, lover boy,” you said, pinching his ear gently. “You fall into my arms one time and suddenly we’re planning a wedding?”

He winced playfully, leaning away. “Ouch, noted. Too soon. I’ll dial it back.”

↝ taglist: @nebularsung, @spacejip, @peterm4rker, @sinisxtea

[izzydaninja]

Rise of the TMNT: Marked in Remembrance - Comic

*No Stealing!* Thank you!

[V - Update Below - V]

Okay, so I want to start off by apologizing for my absence. I've been quiet on both AO3 and here for about a month and/or more. I have no excuse for it besides the fact that I didn't have the proper motivation to really draw/write/make anything, so I'd occasionally jump from one project or another, but mainly spent my time viewing/reading others' work. It was a weird little rut, but I've managed to finish something, so here's to hoping I'm getting out of it?

Also, to the Sonic and Ninjago fans who've been following me: I know this is a weird turn out of nowhere! And I'm sorry for that! I've actually been more in the mood for Rise TMNT as of lately, so that's part of the reason my desire to work on anything has plummeted, because I wanted to do something more related to Rise than anything else.

This is the first Rise TMNT project that I'm happy enough with to post. XD So, hopefully you guys like it? Well, at least those of you Rise fans.

Not sure what I'll be working on after this just yet? I just finished this and wanted to post something to show I'M ALIVE!

Let me know if anyone wants more Rise stuff here or not. It might get me to try finishing the rough drafted stuff I haven't gotten around to finishing. XD

[etherealily]

ℙ𝔸ℝ𝕋𝕀ℂ𝕌𝕃𝔸ℝ 𝕊𝕆𝕄𝔼𝕋ℍ𝕀ℕ𝔾 // f.odair.

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

Part 1 : Birds Of A Feather, based on this ask <3

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. I still love him. [Long].

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: beautiful souls and blobcakes.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

Everyone knew where you lived. The entirety of Panem, surely.

It's a huge reason you'd been cooped up in your home since the Games, since Rue's death. You've been so terribly worried that the hatred for your failure during your first time as a mentor was a nationwide phenomenon.

In reality, no one cared much. As much as 11 were worthy contenders in the Games, some 12 year old girl who sang like a mockingjay but hid during the majority of the Games — not to mention, formed an alliance with District Twelve — wasn't exactly the national focus.

The only memory of Rue, unfortunately, was linked to the alliance, to the Twelve Victor.

Katniss had made a poster out of Rue, a form of defiance to the Capitol. And as much as you couldn't blame this sixteen-year-old-girl for grieving the way she did, you just wished she could have defied the Capitol and kept Rue alive.

Not like she couldn't, right?

She kept her District partner alive.

Fine. No use being bitter. Two Victors — yes, two! — was enough of a fuck-you to the Capitol. You were just glad you didn't have to see it all this while.

But now it's time. Victory Tour.

Rue's family couldn't follow you back into the Victor's Village, could they? So they couldn't come to shoot you in the night.

That's being harsh on them. Really fucking harsh. They were lovely people. They wouldn't do anything of the sort.

So, bravely, you stumbled out into the square to watch the speeches. It seemed that the boy recognized you, but didn't want to comment on it. The girl seemed like she was this close to commenting on it. It. Not you. No, it, the bottle you were clutching to your heart. She probably got deja vu, seeing as her mentor was married to the thing.

Another reason that the hiding away from everyone left you completely protected : Finnick Odair couldn't take your bottle away from you. Yeesh. It's been a while since you thought about him. Fucking weirdo, is what your muddled brain could recall. Holier-than-thou Capitol bootlicker. Right, that made more sense than the first impression you'd had of him — that he actually cared. Right. Like that thing could care.

And then the shot.

Bang.

Dead.

Oak!

You'd have gone and throttled that Peacekeeper onto the ground had Rue's dad not yanked you back and dragged your kicking and screaming form back home. His home, not your Capitol-sanctioned abode.

"Peacekeeper my fucking ass!", you shrieked, trying to have another go at the square again, see if you can't knock a couple teeth out of him at least, so he could never say 'Peacekeeper' without being mocked for his lisp.

"Hey, hey, hey, easy, easy."

It took a couple more 'easy's for you to actually ease up.

And then it came all at once. The tears, the apologies, the trembles, the screams. And, in an entirely cruel and ironic twist of fate, it was Rue's family comforting you.

The guilt that came after that would never leave you, for sure.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

Nearly a year later, and you're still clutching the bottle, but more in hopes that the glass would crack and you'd be declared injured. Or dead. Depends.

Seeder gently takes the bottle off your hands, and strokes your hair. "Hey. Hey, if you get reaped, I'm volunteering, baby, okay?"

She's gotta be fucking kidding. What is it with everyone and treating you like you were fragile? It'd be a much more dignified death if you died in the arena than if you died here, glass in your wrist and bleeding out in a fucking Capitol-crafted bathtub.

"No, I'm not letting you do that, Seeder, no."

"Hey. Listen, I'm not letting you go in there again, baby, okay? You've barely had any time to process losing your first set of tributes."

"Seeder, I can't let someone else die again when I could've stopped it!"

She sighs, smiling sadly as she lowers herself down next to you in the bathtub. "You couldn't have stopped Rue's death, or Thresh's, or Old Man Oak's death out in the square last year. You couldn't have, to put it simply. And as for me, it's my time, baby. Who knows, I could win. Fingers crossed that the other Victors are all senile, huh? All the Careers past their primes? Hm? I'll volunteer for you, baby."

No. You'd decided. You weren't fucking letting her do this shit.

"No, no. You're not—"

Both your heads whip around at the same time. The phone.

"How about you get that, alright? We'll talk about this later."

"Alright, but you're not volunteering!"

"Love you, baby, pick up, the ringing gets to me, you know that!", she grunts, standing up and dusting herself off.

"SEEDER! Listen to me, I— hey, I'm NOT letting you volun— fuck , shut up, alright, I'm coming!", you cut yourself off, ripping the phone from its stand.

You pick up the phone and he swears the universe paused.

"Hey." Discomfort. Not because of him, thank god, but discomfort was present in your voice nevertheless.

"How are you?" It's Reaping Day, you absolute fuckass, she's losing her mind.

"Okay. I mean, it's Reaping Day, so I guess as good as can be."

He smiles. He can work with that.

"You receive any more blobcakes?"

He's pretty sure he'd added them in, special request, to your monthly Victor-loot since he'd met you. He'd made it a priority.

"No. Why, you wanted some?" What the fuck? You hadn't? Oh, a couple ex-District 1 Avoxes were going to get a talking-to.

He shrugs. "Yeah."

Whoo, there he was, Finnick Odair, king of nonchalance. He's glad Finnick, normal old District 4 Finnick isn't showing up. He's the kind that would have an aneurysm if he'd known a pretty girl like you had picked up voluntarily.

Finnick Odair, Capitol Darling, his suaver persona, was active when the two of you were in the Capitol, and he's pretty sure that's the only reason you tolerated him.

"Well, y'know. Surviving Reaping Day was kinda higher on my bucket list."

"Right, right. Well, relax, you'll be fine. The odds are, like, astronomical."

"Weren't they astronomical for you, too?" Fuck.

"Yeah, but I'm me."

"Meaning? I can't win?" WHOA. Whoa, Finnick Odair, king of nonchalance needed to be a bit more 'chalant'.

"No, I mean, like, bad luck kinda follows me around. So."

"Oh. But, um, on the off chance that I..."

"Whoa, no. You won't get picked."

You can't. Finnick would genuinely pass out.

"Okay, but if I do, you— uh, honestly, as a mentor. Do I have a chance?"

Finnick was at a loss here and so was Finnick Odair, Capitol Darling. He genuinely had no clue. "I haven't seen you figh—"

"No, like, I mean, do I have the ability to be a favourite?"Oh.

"Yeah. You do. You have a good personality, you look good, so I don't think you'll have trouble with sponsors so long as your physical prowess is alright."

"I hate the Capitol.", he hears you say.

"Shh. These lines are tapped."

"Right, like Snow doesn't know that we hate the Capitol." Valid point.

"You're fine. Can I just... I just feel like you..."

"I'm overreacting? Is that what you're going to say, Finnick?"

He was about to say 'I feel like you're the only reason I'm not hanging from the fucking ceiling right about now', but that might have just been a tad too dramatic.

"No, I just... I just think that you're not—"

"Because you do realize the position you're in, right? I've said it before, I'll say it again! You get everything, Finnick Odair! The adoration, the glory, the pity, the money, the— fuck, y'know what? You probably didn't even care about your tributes, but I actually liked Rue!"

And just like that, he's dragged back into the spotlight of reality.

You'll never see him as more than a Capitol sellout.

"I'll see you at the Games."

The phone slams. Fine, whatever.

But something Seeder had said dragged your mind out of a stupor, albeit momentarily. Careers. Careers. Ugh. Finnick Odair. Finnick fucking Odair! No, no, no, as much as you hated him — did you hate him? — you didn't want him to go back, his pretty boy self would never fucking survive in the arena after thriving on cushy Capitol beds and mushy Capitol meals for the past ten years.

Okay, now you 100% had to go in and bail his ass out.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

FUCK SEEDER. DAMN her to wherever the hell people go to get damned! You couldn't even argue, because the Capitol audience loves when a volunteer gets to become tribute and honour the Capitol. So, she'd volunteered, you yelled 'no, no, I got reaped, I get to go!', but all that was cut out, naturally.

You got sent home, she got sent to die.

You had to wait for a couple hours before you could see the rest of the reaped Victors, and when you got to Five, your breath hitched. Not because you particularly knew the Victors, but because next up was possibly Finnick Odair trying to be the same kind of hero you'd been denied the right to be in your own Reaping.

But for him, it was clean. Smooth. He'd been Reaped, his dimpled grin had emerged, and there. That's it. Everything was coming up Finnick, wasn't it?! You could scream. But that was redundant and stupid. You weren't seriously jealous that he got his way, were you?

No. He was, in fact, going to the Arena, again, and what fate's worse than that? But once again, he got to help his fellow Victors from facing that fate, and you hadn't been.

Restraining yourself from throwing the remote on the screen, you continued watching. Your own Reaping flashed before you on the reruns, and you scoffed, watching District 12's Reaping emerged. SEE?! Even Peeta Mellark got to save Haymitch! This was so unfair!

At least you'll get to be a mentor again, and possibly find an in to help out Seeder. Saving grace.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

Finnick doesn't let you breathe for even a second when he sees you. He doesn't wave, he doesn't smile, he doesn't handshake.

He just makes for you with the determination of lightning to a tree, and embraces you with the desperation of the sea repeatedly reaching for the shore.

And you hug back. For no apparent reason other than this is a dying man's wish, evidently.

"I didn't get to watch your Reaping, did you get Reaped?"

There's no way he didn't get to watch it. It's the second fucking one that's aired. What was he, taunting you with the fact you couldn't protect Rue and Thresh, and now you couldn't even protect Seeder?

You shake your head, and he sighs in relief, now seemingly deeming it okay to kiss your temple. "I was worried."

Bullshit. But you don't comment. What's the point? Either he or your mentor or both were going to die in a week or so.

He bites the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed as though trying to size up whether you knew something, a particular something, or not. "How you feeling?", he asks, pointedly choosing to ignore the fact that you were slurring, your eyes were droopy with sleep, and you seemed to be hurtfully bored of the conversation.

So typically Finnick. He's about to go back into the Arena, but no, of course he'll go ahead, keep up the 'charming' act. Buy yourself sponsors. Psych me out.

"Me? I wasn't Reaped.", you retort.

"Doesn't mean you're alright."

Finnick, for the life of him, can't understand why you're acting like this is a game. And not even a fun one. The kind where both players are trying to get something out of the other. And he's not sure what you're trying to get from him, because he sure as hell isn't trying to get anything from you.

Well, that's a lie. He is trying to get an explanation out of you, for how you talked to him.

Now, listen. He knows enough. The Mockingjay's husband, Peeta, told Haymitch — who told Finnick, of course — that you've been drinking. Guzzling. And he's seen this happen before —hell, he's gone through it.

But he doesn't like things like this happening to people he likes.

Watching a beautiful soul unravel isn't a pleasing affair. He should know. He's been the soul, and now he's being forced to be the audience.

"I don't look alright?"

He tilts his head, seemingly deciding that you didn't know the 'particular something' that he did. And you can't tell if he seems more relieved, or worried at that knowledge. But he covers it up pretty well.

"Yeah.", he nods, humming as he continues to hug you. "You've changed."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." He pulls away, an odd amusement to his eyes. "Your voice is different. Don't tell me you've been ruining your beautiful voice with trying to take those bullshit 'singing lessons' from Capitol TV."

It's like he knew you, better than you knew yourself. What to avoid, what to say to make you laugh, make you cry, make you hug him. This was the 'make-you-laugh' one, evidently. You snort softly, and he kisses your forehead before wrapping his arm loosely around your shoulder. "Ooh, guess what I brought for you?"

"Blobcakes?"

"Psychic, Victor, Mentor. Wow. I'm impressed. Triple threat."

"What are you gonna do, Finnick?", you sigh. As much as your brain's muddled about whether you trust him or not, you do have some form of human decency that has you worried.

He cocks his head, brows furrowed. "I was hoping... give you these blobcakes?"

"I mean in the Arena."

Squinting up at the sunlight and instinctively pulling your shoulder closer, he shrugs. "Deal with it, I guess."

"Have I told you you're not even remotely funny?"

"No, but I've got that vibe from you. Very cruel, the Capitol adores my comedic genius."

"I'm not the Capitol."

He gazes down at you a moment, pride, amusement and possibly fascination seeping through his gaze, before he snorts, softly. "I know. Exactly."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

There's no way. There's no way you and Chaff just saw Finnick Odair talking to Haymitch Abernathy. An alliance between Four and Twelve? That's never happened before in the history of the Games, you don't think.

You're seconds away from storming up to him. Wasn't he technically supposed to continue pretending he cared for you? Shouldn't he be talking himself up to Seeder and Chaff?

Ugh. Teach you to trust a lapdog. This was probably the "particular something" he wanted to find out if you knew or not.

You're at the food stalls, subconsciously lingering at blobcake-laden-One and glancing subconsciously at Four. But overall, you were glaring at the monitor. There's no point looking at the scoring, because it's less likely they've gotten worse, actually. They're either the same score as their first Games, or better.

"Hey, there."

Ugh. "Hey."

"Noticed you've been avoiding me."

"Noticed you've been betraying me."

His dimpled grin flashes, and he makes a point to chew slowly on the blobcake he's just ripped from your hands. "Yeah? How'd I manage that?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Never mind."

"Hey. Don't do that. What? How'd I betray you? I'll fix it right away."

"Abernathy? Really?"

"Why? You two at odds over who can drain the liquor supply fastest?"

Low fucking blow, but you know you deserve it. "Katniss and Peeta are both at scores of 12. Do you not think there's a reason for that?"

He gasps in mock astonishment. "It can't be... skill?!"

You smack his shoulder and he chuckles, rubbing at it. "The Gamemakers are singling them out, making them targets."

"Is this you telling me you actually do care if I live or die?"

"Do you really think Katniss is a good choice, anyway?"

He's fully smirking now, amusement and mock curiosity and perhaps even, again, a hint of fascination on his lips. As well as a bit of frosting. "Oh, please elaborate."

"Pregnant sixteen-year-old in the Arena, who we know cares only about Peeta."

"And this is the part you're going to say I'm not a good choice for her.", he mumbles, not even turning as he reaches back for a blobcake and hands it to you.

You nod, pointing in between swallows. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but fan-favourite Career, who has to take care of an 80-year-old District partner, and is most likely the one everyone's wanting in the spotlight, anyway?"

"You telling me you wouldn't want me as an ally?", he pouts, his elbow on your shoulder as he leans in. "Hurts my feelings."

You try not to instinctually shove him away, because you've already been unintentionally rude to him once this entire Games, and if he's going to die, least you can do is humour him.

Instead, you count to ten, close your eyes, take deep breaths, then open them. "Alright. How are you even going to convince her to ally with you?"

He shrugs. "Give her a blobcake."

"She'll hate them."

He frowns. "Or, you just hate the idea because blobcakes are a 'you-and-I thing.", he teases, waggling one finger to gesture between the two of you.

You scoff once more.

"I'll give her a sugar cube or somethin', then, alright? Relax."

Relax. Three out of four (minus Haymitch) of your "inner circle" (barely) were going back into the Arena, and one of them was telling you to 'relax'.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

You're not sure what you expected. Logically, Seeder's past her prime, but... to not even make it past the bloodbath?

You're not sure how many tears you've supressed over the years — you didn't even cry after your games — but the fact that you're, for some reason, unable to shed any for Seeder, the woman who meant the world to you? It puts you in a special personal hell .

And your hell's confirmed when you realise Haymitch isn't even drinking this time. It's serious serious.

And one of your Victors is dead. It's all up to Chaff, now. Though, he does seem to be doing well, so you allow yourself one minute of checking-on-Finnick-time.

If you could fucking find him, that was.

"You lookin' for your fishy friend?"

It takes you a moment to register that Haymitch is talking about District Four. You're so used to people referring to Finnick as "Capitol Darling" or "Golden Boy", that you're thrown off, brows furrowing in confusion as Haymitch drags you to his screen. "There. He's with Katniss."

Death fucking sentence.

"She okay doing all that?"

"Yeah. District 12 ladies are crazy hormonal when pregnant, so expect hell for any attackers."

Well, at least Finnick's okay. Not that he can't hold his own, but you'd rather he use as little of his true skill as possible until it really matters. So if Katniss' pregnancy mood swings would help kill off other Victors without Finnick wasting his energy and his good arm, then great.

"You best stick by me.", declares Haymitch, spinning around in his chair as you attempt to go back to your seat.

"What?"

"I get the same controls on my screen as everyone else. C'mon, stay with me. Wherever you wanna see...", he punctuates, with two flicks of his fingernail on the screen. "I'll show you. Our priorities are together, anyway."

Our priorities. Oh, my god, this was why Rue had died, why Thresh had died, fuck. You lost sight of your priorities, so much so that even Haymitch thought you were on his side just because some District Four guy was with his tributes.

Fuck.

"No, I need to make sure Chaff's alright."

"Hey, hey, whoa, hey, sit down.", he mutters, offhandedly, as he navigates through the water-saturated expanse of the Arena. "There. See?"

Chaff's alright - perfect, actually.

"Now, let's get back to the pregnant one, the old one and the fan favourite."

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

The blackout, surprisingly, comes after the panic.

You see Brutus killing Chaff, and you're sure the scream you let out chills everyone's blood. It freezes yours, too.

But as it turns out, your grief isn't big enough, or loud enough, no, not compared to the Gamemakers' grief in losing the Arena.

All you know is that you're glad Haymitch forced you to sit by him the past three days, because he seems to be foresighted enough to shove you down to duck the second his tribute pulls out her arrow.

"We gotta go."

You'll listen to sober Haymitch, no questions asked.

"What happened? Are they okay? Is Finnick okay?"

"They will be, just lay low, c'mon, in there."

A door that you'd never noticed before. Haymitch gestures at you to run down these extremely odd, borderline creepy stairs. It's a stairwell. How the fuck?

"When did you even find these?", you pant as you rush down the spirals, checking over your shoulder that he's behind you.

"Finnick told me about them. He said that's what he used to come up to your floor last year, during the Games."

Fucking Finnick.

"What's the Capitol protocol for a fucked-up-Arena?"

"Well, when I was in the Games, it was to direct mutts onto a twelve-year-old kid and just pretend that the glitches were part of the whole thing, but, uh, they might have gone lax this time, I don't know. Don't stop, though, keep going.", he replies, fast and all at once.

"Haymitch, what's gonna happen to Katniss? The baby? Peeta? Johanna?"

You try your best not to mention Finnick, because he already thinks your priority is Finnick over everyone else, and though that's true now, with the deaths of Chaff and Seeder, you don't want to act like you're suddenly okay about said deaths.

You're still on the fence about what Finnick even means to you. He was a mentor, yes, he was a good guy, sure, but he was also a Capitol lapdog that you didn't want anywhere near the Mockingjay.

Because he could either get the only true whisper of a rebellion killed, or she could get him killed, which would suck for you either way.

"They're all going to be fine, they know what to do. Who do you think told me to keep you right next to me so that you're safe?"

Finnick. Fuck, it's always Finnick.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

You're not sure how long you've been spinning the same coin on the table and counting the seconds until it fell, but it's probably a diabolically tragic amount of time.

So maybe this was the "particular something" he wanted to find out if you knew or not.

"Hey, he's done, we patched him up well."

"You fucking better have.", you grumble, shouldering past the District 13 medical staff. Alright, so you were being a bitch. But you have a right to be hostile. So many weapons, and not once, in seventy-five years did they try to rescue Panem? Shame.

The door gives way to a perfect view of his eyes. "Oh, thank god, they wouldn't let me ask around for you because it would strain my throat."

You sit opposite him, frowning. "You knew all that would happen? The blowing up?"

"Yeah, I mean... yeah. Well, not Katniss finding the glitch, but yeah, pretty much."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't want to worry you." Alright, so that wasn't the "particular something".

"Worry me? Why would I be worried? The two people I cared most about in the world are dead, and you didn't even think to include them in your insurance plan."

"Too many people would have fucked it up."

You scoff. So, you were counted as 'too many people', as well as the Victors of your District, the ones he didn't seem to care enough to rescue, whereas you seemed to be rescued as an afterthought. Brilliant.

"Get well soon, Finnick."

"Wait, where are you going? Hey! Hey, no. I...", he sighs, running his hand across his other one. "I'm alone here. I have no friends. Mags is gone, but... but I'm sure you already saw that."

You did see that. You sigh, sitting back down. "Listen, I just think you should have told me."

"I know. I know, I'm sorry. Truly." He reaches for your hand, and what were you going to do? Deny him? He'd break at that. Each knuckle receives a kiss. "I really am."

"Yeah, I got that."

"I'm sorry about Rue. I never got to tell you."

God, you need a drink.

You nod. "Yeah, it's alright."

"And Seeder. Chaff, as well, though I didn't see his death."

He's practically pushing you to a bar right now.

You nod once more. "And I'm sorry about Mags."

He smiles. "You forgive me, right? For not telling you sooner?"

What other choice do you have? Hold a grudge against the only person you trust here?

"Yes."

"Will you stay? With me?"

"There's a schedule here, it's strict, so I don't know—"

"They need me. So, I wouldn't worry about it. You get privileges when you know Finnick Odair.", he grins, clenching his jaw in pain as he shifts to the side, patting the empty space on the bed.

You sit by him.

"What other privileges?"

"I can get you one-on-one-time with the Mockingjay. Ooh.", he mock-gasps, nudging your shoulder.

"If she wakes up and doesn't detonate the entire District because hers burned down."

"You're so optimistic, I love it."

That coaxes a laugh out of you.

"You scared?"

"For what?"

"The war."

War? Whoa, you'd never... that had never crossed your mind. "Say it like that, it seems so real."

"Yeah, I mean... 'send children to kill each other in a closed environment' sounds worse, though, doesn't it?", he asks, his eyes roaming your face as though searching - once again - for the 'particular something'.

"You think Katniss will be okay with it? Being the Mockingjay? Potentially starting a war?"

"She already has.", he tells you, shrugging. "Oh, this is what's different. Your hair."

"Yeah, uh, for some reason they brought in a stylist for me.", you reply, thumbing at the door. This earns a frown and a kiss on the temple. You're not sure why he's so fond of kissing your forehead, but hey, you're not complaining. It makes you feel safe. And that's rare, in Panem.

"Why?"

"They said I'd need it." A spark, on his face. Alright, perhaps this is the "particular something" that he knew and you didn't.

"During a war. That didn't register in your head as odd?"

You scoff, looking out the window behind his head.

"I'm not an idiot, Finnick, I know what it means, they're going to use me to promote the rebels' side. What else?"

He seems to be happy, at that. What, he thought you were dumb, this whole time? "Yeah. And you're okay with it?"

"They'll kick me out if I don't do it."

He shrugs. "Okay, fair. But you, um... you will do it, right?"

"I'm the least interesting person here, I don't have any stories to tell, I don't ha—"

"What about your Games? Rue? Seeder?"

Alright, was he sponsoring the drinks at this place? Because boy, was he tempting you.

"You might be alright exploiting your trauma for District 13, Finnick, not me. I'm not saying a word about Rue, or Heath, or Seeder, or Chaff."

He sighs, shaking his head once more. "I'm not exploiting anything, I'm finally controlling my own experiences, my own story, how it's portrayed! Why don't you get that? Isn't that what we want? Freedom from the Capitol's narrative?"

"Well, I'm not you, Finnick. For me, this would be exploiting the deaths of people I love."

Cussing under his breath, he grunts a bit to sit up further, picking at his knuckles for a moment. "You and I are so similar that it's borderline terrifying."

"No, we're not. Stop saying that. That whole birds-of-a-feather, cut from the same cloth bullshit."

"Admit it, you started drinking because I can't be in your district."

"What?"

"You, you absolute idiot, started - well, continued - drinking because you don't feel comfortable enough to open up to anyone else but me, and I wasn't there. Guess what? I feel the same way."

You scoff. "What is this, an intervention?"

He shakes his head. "Just one friend checking on the other."

"Well, seeing as you're the one in a hospital bed—"

"But am I the one who needs checking-in on?"

Yeah, what the fuck? "Do you see tubes in my arms?"

He bites the inside of his cheek, a small, sad sigh creeping out of his mouth. He calls your name. "Please. Give me something."

"What?"

He looks like he's fighting the urge to say 'anything'. "Whatever you can."

You huff, your cheeks inflating before you exhale, shifting to face the wall opposite the bed. You're stuck in a hospital bed, in a District that people thought burned the fuck down, ready for a rebellion, with a Capitol bootlicker — who is somehow the only person in this District (possibly the whole world) that you trust.

The universe seemed to think you were a flashy toy that it could put in comical, ironic situations and laugh at.

"Should I tell you about Rue?"

You're not sure why you say it. Probably because you know that you will have to recount it anyway, for the propo. Because Finnick asked you to. Because it's important to him. Because Finnick.

A toothy smile. "If you can."

And so you do. You tell him about how she was the one that would sing the end-of-day-song, and how the mockingjays would carry her tunes through the trees.

"Like how our Mockingjay will carry her message."

Okay, Finnick.

You tell him how terrified she'd been that night. How her mother had told you to call her Rue-bird, and when you did, how you could feel her tension ease out of her.

"Rue-bird's pretty adorable."

Yes, it is, Finnick.

You tell him about all the times she'd written you a little thank-you note for donating money to their family so that they didn't need Tesserae, no matter how many times you'd told her she didn't have to.

"Oh, that's so sweet of her."

You're right, Finnick.

You tell him about the triumphant little smirk on her face when she managed to sneak past all the Peacekeepers and into the Victor's Village to see you.

"That must've taken her some time to perfect."

Probably, Finnick.

"You should tell Katniss all these stories when she wakes up. She'll love them. Might push her into getting into the Mockingjay role much faster."

You're about to ask him if he has the ability to talk about anything else, anything at all, but you refrain from it. Believe it or not, trust him or not, your main goal is not to hurt him. Hurt Finnick? Unheard of.

Instead, you tell him you can't figure out the "particular something" he'd wanted you to know. He tells you it's that he loves you.

The two of you laugh it off. Love during war? Please.

And then, it hits you. All at once, a tidal wave, a sucker punch. You'd never hurt Finnick, but other things could.

A misplaced banana peel, fuck's sake.

An exposed live wire.

A war.

Anyone you'd sworn to protect so far had died.

Maybe you shouldn't try to protect him. He was older, wiser, and clearly he'd gone through some shit and needed to get it off his chest.

He could protect himself.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

You're not exactly sure what Katniss is saying. It's something about the Transfer, which you'd learned were the tunnels under the Capitol. She's screaming is what she's doing, actually, and it's freaking everyone out, even more than they normally were.

"MUTTS!"

You're ready to throw the walkie-talkie into a fire. The one word you'd heard and the one word you'd never wanted to hear. Mutts. While your Arena didn't have too many, everyone around you had them. Haymitch. Johanna. Hell, even Katniss, on the other end.

"How many are there?"

Haymitch's voice is too clear, too precise, too calm for this situation.

"Too many, we can't fight them off."

"Quarter Quell them."

It takes you a second to realise he means blow them up.

"Brace yourself, kid."

You're not sure if he's talking to Katniss before she detonates, or to you, who has the walkie-talkie too close to your ears.

It's like a rip through the air, even though it's through a speaker.

Everyone in the room freezes, but not you, no, your foot's shaking, your fingers are rapping on the table.

"They're dead."

You know she's not only talking about Mutts. "Casualties?"

"I don't know."

"Katniss? Katniss? Tell me who you see around you, past the smoke."

"Peeta."

Yeah, no fucking shit.

She coughs a bit, probably due to ash. "Pollux is alive. Uh... okay, Gale."

"Give it to him.", instructs Haymitch. Katniss is too shocked to give an accurate report, and it's vital. "Who'd we lose, Hawthorne?"

"Castor, and I think Homes."

This is infuriating. You're only in this stupid fucking room for one person, and it's like they're purposely avoiding mentioning him. In the darkest, loudest depths of your head, the mutts had ripped off his.

"Gale, tell me Finnick's there. look through the smoke, look on the ground, anywhere."

The soft crackle of the radio, the faint, buzzing sound of shuffling, it all just adds fuel to your raging fire, strengthens the fears that grip those depths of your mind. Finnick's dead, the mutts have ripped him apart, he'll never kiss your temple again.

There's another crackle in the radio, and heavy breathing ensues. Haymitch furrows his brows.

"It's me."

You can't help it. You cry. You've never been able to, not in your Games, not for your mentors, but perhaps that was because it was death. This is life. Finnick's alive. He has his life.

Finnick doesn't let you breathe for even a second when he sees you. He doesn't wave, he doesn't smile, he doesn't handshake.

He just makes for you with the determination of lightning to a tree, and kisses you with the desperation of the sea repeatedly reaching for the shore.

And you kiss back. For no apparent reason other than this is a living man's wish, evidently.

[leaawrites]

My Girlfriend

Part 2 to Your Girlfriend

Eli Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: when Eli meets up with an old friend, he's far more interested in his girlfriend

Warnings: making out, toxic relationship (not Eli), swearing, breaking up with your boyfriend for Eli

Wordcount: 2.9k

Masterlist, Inhaler Masterlist

The hours ticked by in slow motion, her eyes drained on the still unopened door of her flat. Phone, still turned on, laying on the little table beside her, reading the text Tom had sent 30 minutes ago.

'I'm heading out now, be there in five.'

Nothing else.

It was the first text he'd sent that day, not texting again after leaving her with Eli, a person she barely knew, in a cafe because of his work. No extra apology, no 'hope you got on well enough and he wasn't too annoying', no question as to whether she got home safe that day or not. It was complete radio silence until he made sure that she was still free for him.

Engaged but not living together. It was laughable. Comical in a sense that made her want to cry. When bringing up the topic of moving in together, it was always the same on his side. An eye roll, gushing about how she was acting so clingy before answering with an, 'My apartment is like my second office. If we move in together you'd feel like a part of it. I don't need more distractions than I already have.'

So after a bit, she stopped asking altogether.

Keeping their private lives separated by five streets. His work place in the middle of it all. A five minute walk away from her flat. A five minute walk that took him thirty minutes and soon a full hour until the lock finally clicked and Tom came walking in. Throwing his keys on the dresser and his coat over her own when a free hanger was available for him. One she emptied for him.

"What took you so long?" she asked, watching him as he walked into her kitchen, brewing himself a cup of coffee. Acting like nothing was wrong.

If she was being honest, she couldn't stop thinking about Eli's words. He wasn't paying attention to her, wasn't asking questions. He stood in her kitchen like it was theirs, treating her home like it was his when he made it clear that he didn't want that to be a truth. Making her wait like she was depended on him.

In the span of 5 minutes, Elijah Hewson had asked her more questions than Tom did in 3 years. A guy she only met was more interested in her than her own fiance, the man she was gonna spent her life with. She deserved better, right? She deserved to have someone that loved her and showed it too. But for how long would that hold?

Eli was sweet, he was nice as they talked. But how long would it take for him to get bored of her? It wasn't like she was the Rockstar's girlfriend dream. There was nothing that made her stand out to anyone that knew her after college. Over the course of college, every girl seemed interesting to guys. Afterwards, they had the whole world.

"Do you remember the guy I told you about?" Tom asked, pulling her out of her daydreams. "The one who wanted to invest in the company with quite a big sum?" Humming quietly she tried figuring out where this was going. "I'm having dinner with him in an hour. Would it be a problem if we rearrange ours?"

At his question, her face fell. "You mean, our engagement dinner date?"

"Yeah, that one. We can do it another day, can't we? This is just really important to me. I'm also gonna take a shower and change here, because the restaurant is nearer to your apartment. That way I can relax a bit beforehand. It would be nice if you could leave me on my own for that time though. If it isn't making any complications. But you've got nowhere else to go anywhere, so I bet it won't be a problem for you. Now would it?"

He couldn't be fucking serious, now could he?

Putting on a sickly sweet smile with pressed together lips, she tilted her head as he wasn't even looking at her anymore. Already making his way into her bedroom to take out the clothes he had put away in her closet.

"Be my guest," she said, standing up to follow him.

Taking out clothes herself to go out in, she couldn't even look at him while he stood next to her. Changing out of her comfort clothes and into the ones she planned to wear for their date, throwing her leather jacket over it, she made her way towards the door. Stopping as she watched his keys laying on her dresser from the corner of her eye. Her own keys in her jacket pocket. The all too familiar shape gracing her fingers as she loosened her own from his key chain. Stuffing them into her pocket so he wouldn't find them, even though he would hardly look for them.

Walking out onto the street, she could see the light in her apartment still burning. His frame walking through in shadows.

She had nowhere to go, right? If only he knew.

Looking up his name, she quickly found his band too. Inhaler. Putting a mental note up for herself to ask him about the name later, she kept on looking. Searching for the venue they were playing at, purchasing a ticket and making her way down the street soon enough.

Arriving ten minutes after doors, she found a place close to the bar. Waiting with her eyes glued to her phone as her finger hovered about the 'follow' button on his profile. He wouldn't see it now anyway. Why was she still so afraid of the possibility of him recognizing her?

Trying to remind herself, that no matter where this might lead, whether it would be only a night or a lifetime, she was grateful that he made her realize that she didn't need to be treated the way Tom treated her.

While checking for the time, her eyes recognized something else on the top of his profile. 'Accept following request'.

Pressing down on the blue button, she quickly followed him back before stuffing her phone away. Waiting for the show with a drink in her hand.

The show was incredible. It didn't matter that there were only a few hundred people gathered in the small space, the buzz and energy was the same as in a stadium filled with thousands. The people knew the songs, they new the guys. She only knew him. Watching Eli move and sing wasn't as hard as she thought at first. He was magnifying. Knowingly looking extra slutty with his lips stuck to the mic.

Besides singing a few of the choruses she picked up throughout the night, she kept mostly to herself. Cheering when a song ended and eventually pulling out her phone to get a video of him. Already planning on becoming obnoxious about attending this small gig once they've gotten bigger. If this night was going nowhere, at least she got the memories of attending the gig with her forever.

"Thank you so much for coming," Eli spoke into the mic, both hands holding on to it. Sweat running through his hair as he ran his hand through it. The shirt he wore over the white tank was now somewhere backstage. Laying helplessly after being tossed away in the heat of the moment. "We love you all. Good night."

And then the stage lights went out, their bodies disappearing into the shadows, rushing away to get ready to go home. Bodies tumbled against each other. Faces streaked with tears and smiles. The big lights turning on, blinding the people that were used to the colorful tainted bodies of the band. They were back to normal.

It was over.

Finishing her drink, she kept on looking down at her phone. The screen showing only the picture of the sea she took last year in Italy while on holiday. The holiday Tom had spent writing e-mails and losing track of time hunched over his laptop until she went out without him.

Just like now. An endless circle of misery. One she was gonna break the moment she walked outside and her phone lit up again. A text notification popping up.

'So you've been thinking about our conversation from yesterday'

Another one following shortly after.

'Or am I gonna make a fool out of myself when I say that I think I saw you at the show tonight?'

Laughing at his message, she started typing before she could think clearly. Butterflies swarming her chest. The feeling had grown so foreign in the last couple years. It was always just a sense of familiarity in every situation. Good or bad, it felt all the same. Every touch felt like an accidental brush. Every word felt like it was spoken in a foreign language. One she wasn't willing to learn just to understand it. She wanted it to feel natural.

'I may or may not have just filled half of my memory card with your face'

In the room inside the building, Rob was raising his eyebrow at the smiling boy opposite him who hadn't reacted the first three times his name was called. Eli's eyes never wavering from the screen in front of his face after they settled down in the backstage area to calm down from their high.

"Dude, what's going on with ya?" He asked, the other three lads already looking his way too. Exchanging looks of suspect and high interest.

They haven't heard the end about how his old friend had become this complete douche who had no idea what kind of woman he was able to call his fiancee. At least that's what he hoped she wasn't anymore.

'So you were the girl who couldn't stop filming?'

"It's nothing," Eli replied casually, still not looking up. A wide grin tucking on his lips.

"Sure," Ryan trailed off, stretching the letters a bit more than convincing. "You lot ready to go out?"

'I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only girl with a phone in her hands'

'You got any good shots then?'

'A few solid ones, yeah'

'Maybe you could show me? You know, for promotion and stuff. It's always good to have fan recordings. Makes it seem more organic'

'If you want to see them, you're gonna have to rescue me from the cold streets'

"I might skip tonight." Finally lifting his head. Already grabbing his jacket and starting to put it on.

'Where exactly are you?'

"You got somewhere else to be already?" Josh asked smugly from the side, trying to hide his laughter behind his hand as him and Ryan exchanged a knowing look.

"Is it by any chance a girl you've met yesterday that's most likely leaving her fiance for you?" Ryan asked, almost busting into laughter in between his words.

"Shut up," Eli muttered before leaving the room with quick feet and a huge grin covering his face.

The cold air outside made his breath visible as his eyes frantically searched for her silhouette. About two other people were also waiting, realizing rather quickly who he was as they'd just seen him live for approximately 90 minutes. Asking for a picture he didn't decline and when he looked into the camera, she was standing just a few feet behind it.

His eyes looking past the lens, watching as her focus shifted from her phone screen and towards where he was stood. A small smile grazing her lips at the sight of him. His own widening only a bit more as the camera flashed and the girl, that he had his arm thrown over her shoulder, was squealing in excitement. Thanking him sincerely before moving on, getting into the uber that arrived for them in time.

With slow steps, Eli walked closer to her, trying his best to look like it wasn't a big deal to him that she showed up. To his show. For him. Alone.

"Hey," she said, as he stepped in front of her. Hands anxiously tapping against her leg as she shivered from the cold.

"You're actually here," he said, chuckling at how dumb it sounded once he said it.

Laughing with him, she started to turn around, walking somewhere he wasn't aware of.

"You were really good," she complimented him, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks, but he quickly put it onto the cold air and not on how fast his heart was beating in his chest at her presence and her words. "I'm glad you made me come see you."

"I'm glad you came to see me- us."

"Where's Tom now?" He asked, not quite sure what would be an appropriate question and what was too much to ask. Though it seemed rational in his mind to ask. After all, the ring on her finger was now missing.

"At some dinner with someone I don't know," she explained, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets where it laid. The cold metal gracing the skin it once laid on. "We were supposed to go out as an engagement celebration, kind of. Work was just too important once again for him." Nodding her head as if she had to think about her next words, she continued, "I also couldn't stop thinking about your words. That I deserve someone better, someone who's actually interested in what I have to say about something for once. I guess, I was just too scared to realize that too before now."

"Why? I mean, you're great. Why do you think you have to end up with someone like him?"

"Tom always went on and on about how women, the moment they are out of uni, have minimal chances of getting a good man anymore because most are already in a happy relationship at that point. If you hear something enough times you start to believe it. I never thought anyone else would ever be interested in me again, so I kept the one who tolerated me."

It sounded pathetic when she said it, words she knew weren't true but seemed to feel realer than anything else she'd ever heard about real life as an adult. Most of her friends were happily committed when they left uni, it just made sense to stay that way. It was suffocating but it wasn't killing her immediately like loneliness would've.

"What made you change your mind then so quickly?"

With him it felt like she could breath for the first time.

"If you meet the right person, I think you just know. It doesn't have to be the right person forever but sometimes a moment in pure ecstasy is enough to go the right way." Looking up at him, the two of them stopped in front of her apartment building. The light of the hall illuminating their wide eyes and heartbeats pulsating through their veins. "Little consistent heaps of adrenaline are what bring you to the end of life, not convenient breathing."

Her words were stuck on his mind as Eli tried making sense of what she was saying and his own thoughts trying to intertwine them. Was he one little heap of adrenaline to her? Was he a moment of pure ecstasy to her when she was the only thing on his mind ever since he saw her?

"Are you gonna go back to him again tomorrow morning? Is he gonna return to your bed when his dinner is done and the ring he bought you is back on your finger?" Eli asked, leaning back against the wall to bring a convenient distance between them that wouldn't scare her off.

Truth been told, he would take this little moment on her mind if it was all that she was willing to give him. Even though he knew he shouldn't let her, he didn't take her fingers away when they grazed his jaw. Fingertips trailing over his cheek and lips. Falling down against his neck and fixing the collar of his leather jacket.

"My keys are gone from his key chain, I took them off when I left. I don't want to go back to him, not when you are still by my side in the morning."

Without another thought, Eli leaned down to press his lips against hers. Chasing after her mouth every time she pulled away to catch her breath or let out a laugh at how messily his hands were tangled in her clothes and hair.

"You wanna go inside?" she asked, the sounds muffled against his lips as he wouldn't let her go.

Nodding his head and humming against her lips, he didn't wait for her to open the door before picking her up, unlocking the door and carrying her towards the elevator.

"Eli," she said, trying to push him away with a laugh as they waited for the lift to come down. Trying again and again until she held his jaw tightly in her hands, not letting him move. "This is fun and all, but I actually like my neighbors and don't want them to have a heart attack because most of them are too old for that to happen to them and them getting out alive."

"Just wait till we're behind closed doors, alright?" she tried again as he whined, reluctantly letting her thighs go from his grip and helping her balance herself on weak legs once the elevator pinged and opened it's doors for them.

[acourtofthought]

Sure, SJM included information on how certain bonds aren't well matched but why do people read that excerpt and stop there? Since when are single lines meant to be taken as the only evidence that someone needs when trying to build an intelligent argument?

We are told that the bonds that are poorly matched are ones given to a pairing that are not ideal in spirit. They are not an indication of true, paired souls.

Let's think on what the author has told us about Elain and Lucien as individuals. Lucien suffered extreme cruelty and violence at the hands of his brothers and father yet learned to keep his cool. He vomited at the sight of the fairies wings (or lack thereof) because of what happened to Jesminda. While he is trained as a warrior, he does not prefer that life and said that he hopes he never has to fight in another battle as long as he lives. Compare all that to the Inner Circle who has no issues torturing their enemies in extremely creative ways. Az and Rhys who did not "keep their cool" when it came to Az's step-brothers, or the Attor. Az when it came to Eris's soldiers or Cassian when it came to those who played any part in what happened to his mother. Cassian and Az who continue their training as warriors and train others (perpetuating the cycle of battle / war). Even Nesta when it came to Hybern when she decided to cut off his head and stood there staring at it. Which of the above does Elain's "spirit" most closely match? Elain who is absolutely willing to save those she loves but is still bothered by cruelty. Elain who returned TT and walked away without looking back. Elain who made Feyre swear not to harm Graysen no matter what. Elain who has been rejected by two different guys yet never did anything cruel in retaliation, she didn't even raise her voice to either one. Let's also consider the author's own words. It's fine to say, "they don't need to end up together just because of an interview!" but why would Sarah lie about what Elain and Lucien enjoy? "They are pretty much happy to be out in nature the most." Not only do we have the interview where she says the above but the books support it what with evidence of Lucien having had a campsite, with his ease at killing and cleaning fish, with the references to his hunting, with the mentions of him glowing under the sunlight, with him looking as if he were crafted from the forest. And of course we know that Elain is our resident Earth Goddess as she's a gentle grower of things who looks alive when out in her gardens, who believes the world needs more of them, who is always sitting by the sunniest windows as if any bit of darkness is abhorrent and for whom Night Court black sucks the life out of. Have we been given any confirmation that Az is at ease out in nature? That he embodies the great outdoors? That he comes alive under the sun? Quite the contrary actually as we're told only one single shadow was brave enough to face it and the shadows are as much a part of Az as Az himself. Sure he listened to Elain talk about her gardens but has he ever gone out to help her because he also enjoys it? (And no, sitting outside in the sun one time with Elain does not equal enjoyment of nature, that's like telling a sunbather at the beach they enjoy nature as much as someone who enjoys hiking the Appalachian Trail and has a Rewards Card at REI and Bass Pro Shop). Lucien and Elain both readily apologize whereas I think the only person Az apologized to was Nesta in a different series. Lucien and Elain are quick to let go of past prejudices where Az hangs on to them like his favorite blankie. Lucien and Elain are both affectionate and forthcoming with praise for their friends and family where Az is often reserved and stoic. Lucien and Elain are also both fairly humble where Az is definitely not, he's fairly arrogant at times.

So really, when Elain and Lucien's core values match on a much deeper level than what we see compared to Elain and any other character, how can anyone doubt that their bond is one that is matched in spirit? That they are one another's other half, a mirror reflection? That doesn't necessarily mean they have to end up together but I don't think anyone can argue that they wouldn't be well matched. Therefore constantly referring back to the discussion Feyre and Rhys had only further supports why Elain and Lucien were give a truly matched bond and why her personality is much more suited to Lucien than Az.

[lemonabouttodrop]

Say what now?

Part 2 of 'How could you?'

Azriel x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel came with apologies stitched into his silence, but when his gaze met yours, the words slipped away. What he offered instead wasn’t quite what you'd hoped, but for him, it was a tether, a reason to keep you a little closer, a little longer.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, insecurity, kinda crack?, mentions of Irish forms of art, scars? (sorry y'all, still haven't exactly figured how to write warnings yet)

Note: Probably has mistakes but I'm re-using my 'first fic' card again since this is still a part 2 of my first one. thxthx.

part 1 linked here.

Azriel didn't remember how to stand. Where do his hands go? Behind his back? Too child-like.

In his pockets? Too casual.

Should they dangle? Probably not.

So he just stood there frozen with his hands flailing around unsurely and his wings fighting against twitching as he processed what just happened.

You'd spoken. Albeit uninterestedly, like you wanted nothing to do with him. He'd never heard you sound so- well, dull. He hated that he was the cause of that. It had been a week since he heard you properly. And oh, how he wished he could turn back time.

But he couldn't, so he'd just take a tiny bit of joy from what just happened.

You'd spoken .To him. To him.

He'd been in the kitchen, the place where his suffering first started, boiling tea when you'd walked in and not immediately turned around, instead you'd spoken. To him. Hell, you were even looking at him so he clearly wasn't hallucinating. He hadn't even heard what you'd said, he'd just heard your voice again and his heart had done its best to lurch out of his chest.

"Huh?", he said and immediately cringed at how dumbfounded he sounded.

"I said I'm done with the mission report. It's on your desk." You repeated blandly. The report.. about the mission after which he'd ruined it all. His face fell, once again reminded of what he'd caused.

It seems you recollect it too, for you turned around to leave

"Wait!", he says, slightly too loudly to be anything but desperate.

Shit. The plea had left his throat before he could stop himself. Now what? He hadn't thought this through at all.

You were looking at him, now facing him again, with a brow raised and arms crossed.

He was looking at you, with his hands suspended mid-air and his eyes slightly wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

"I'm- Can we.. talk?", Mother above he needed to get it together. Stop this stuttering.

"About?"

Good question. That's a really good fucking question that he does not know how to answer.

His shadows twirled mid-air as if taunting him, and he knew that if they could speak his tongue, they'd most definitely be doing just that. Infact, they'd probably be cursing him out right about now.

Though they were attached to him, they'd always taken every available opportunity to be next to you, to side with you, to take care of you. Even now, most gravitated in your direction no matter how strongly he held them back.

You must have realized this silence meant he had no goddamn clue what to say to you. He saw it in your eyes and as he anticipated your departure, you stepped forwards and sat at the island, looking at him patiently.

His heart, which happened to still have been doing the Irish jig in his chest, seemed to just about stop and skip multiple beats. Because he had no clue, no clue how you let him be anywhere around you after what he'd said.

How you hadn't yet punched him or tried to in any shape or form. He deserved that at least. What he didn't deserve was this kindness.

But he'd be foolish to refute it, and so he sat down too and he knew what to do.

He'd get you back.

His shadows seemed to nod resolutely.

A mission. A gods damned mission?!

You'd expected anything but another fucking mission.

Then again, you assume your emotional instability due to the words of an overgrown bat cannot surmount to enough reason to put the court politics on halt.

You thought back to the whole encounter just hours ago as you packed your bags for tomorrow.

When he'd called out to you like that, you'd thought he'd apologize. You would have accepted it, you would have brushed off how hurt you truly had been, you'd definitely have found a way to convince yourself that an apology was enough. That whatever he said next was enough. Instead, he'd said nothing. He'd just stood there awkwardly, and yet you hadn't wanted to leave again. Gods, could you be any more desperate? Probably not.

One last chance. You thought to yourself.

Your mind told you to uphold your dignity and get the fuck out of there while you still had the chance, keep some semblance of self-respect. But a very tiny part of it still fought back and reminded you of all the quiet, beautiful moments you'd had with Azriel. How you'd surely never get any more if you left, but if you stayed? There was a possibility. The very tiny part made good points.

So you'd sat down and watched him patiently, hoping he wouldn't make a fool of you and leave you there. But he'd taken a seat as well, too clumsily, too fast. What was wrong with him? You wondered. You'd never seen him act so... disoriented.

He still didn't say a word. Just stared. It had been a while since you'd allowed yourself to look at him, to not turn around and flee at the sight of him.

He was beautiful, always had been. You couldn't help but give him a once-over. His sharp cheekbones seemed sharper, his hands were gloved. His hands were gloved? Why-

Oh.

Realization dawned on you like a brick on your face. It was winter, you'd massage his hands and relax the tense muscles of the scarred appendages everyday in this cold season. Or else his hands would cramp up. Badly.

How absorbed had you been in your self-pity to forget such a thing?

Cringing, you promised yourself to help him as soon as possible.

You looked up at him again to find him already staring, now catching your expression. You schooled it and looked him in the eyes.

Gods, his eyes.

They were more sunken than usual. Had sleep not been good to him lately? Who were you to talk? You knew you didn't look any better. And was it really bad that it felt good to assume you were the reason for his sleepless nights, like he was for yours? Yes, yes it was.

His shadows curled over his wings, as though peeking at you. Some slithered over the table in soft curves, inching over to you. They were always nice to you, you thought, smiling softly at them as a few wrapped around your wrists on the wood.

You'd wondered how long this whole game of silence would last.

And just as that thought passed your mind, he'd spoken.

And you'd just about had an aneurysm.

You looked at your stuff, mentally checking your list of essentials. It was a mission to the mountains. Nowhere near the camps, thank the Mother for that. He hadn't told you why it was a two person job and you hadn't asked. He also hadn't told you how long it would take and you hadn't asked. Turns out there's a bunch of stuff you should have asked.

Are your hands okay?

Did you go get Madja's soothing oils?

What kind of crack are you on to think that taking me, of all people, on this mission would ever end very well after what happened?

Who's hosting my funeral if I throw myself off a cliff in the duration of this business trip? Do I get insurance?

You laid down on the bed, content with your preparations. You'd done your best to not let your insecure thoughts plague you during the day but it was the night that was hard these days. Thoughts of inadequacy would rise every single breath you took. Mind would overflow with different interpretations of every interaction with him.

Heart would pace as thoughts of him took over your very being, until the world faded away and the pacing stopped. Until even the sounds of the wind dulled, until the magic in your veins fell into slumber and so did you.

Only to wake to a new day.

A new beginning? A better one?

Y'all, i got zero clue where i wanna take this. Still love that i have the ability to take this any which ways but would def def def love some suggestions. Thank you for all the likes pookies, thought no one would read my stuff but OMG are y'all sweet or what.

currently preparing for a big big big test that def decides the course of my life so i just do this when im stressed. Prolly not consistent but yuhpp. thank yewww.

and if you haven't noticed yet, i love commas,,,,,

@saradika-graphics for those gorgeous dividers. IN LOVE.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

You Feel Real to Me (Soldier Boy)

Summary: Ben is broken beyond belief.

WC: 759

Warnings: PTSD, emotional breakdown, guilt, self-loathing, hurt/comfort

Read on ao3!

--

The nightmares never left him. Not really. He could drown them in booze. Bury them under blood and fire. But they always came back.

Tonight, they hit him harder than usual.

He woke up swinging — gasping, snarling, soaked in cold sweat — fists striking at invisible enemies.

It took him a full minute to realize where he was.

Not the jungle. Not the war. Not in some goddamn lab, strapped down and screaming into the dark.

He was in the shitty motel you found for the two of you. A dump, sure — but it was safe. Safe because you were there. His breathing tore in and out of him like a broken machine. His knuckles ached where he’d punched the headboard. Splinters of cheap wood stuck to his skin.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Tried to get a handle on himself. Tried. The mattress shifted beside him.

You. You were still there. Your warmth seeped into him, even across the narrow gap he’d put between you — because he didn't trust himself not to ruin you if you got too close. "Ben...?" Your voice, soft, still fogged with sleep.

He turned his head — barely — enough to see you propped up on one elbow, hair mussed, eyes blurry but alert. Worried. Always worried. He hated that he made you look at him like that.

A lie so obvious even he hated hearing it.

You didn’t call him on it. You just shifted closer cautiously until your hand hovered, uncertain, over his arm. An invitation, not a demand. It shattered him. He twisted toward you — grabbing your hand, pulling it against his chest like a drowning man clutching a life preserver.

You made a soft, wounded sound at the back of your throat and curled into him without hesitation. And for the first time all night, Soldier Boy breathed.

You ran your fingers gently through his hair — steady, soothing strokes — and he squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed.

He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you. But fuck if he could make himself let go.

"Ben," you whispered, voice barely audible. "It's okay. You're safe."

The words hit harder than any bullet. He shook his head minutely against you. Safe? He wasn't safe. He was a walking bomb. A fucking monster.

But you — You made him feel something. Something besides anger. Something besides that endless, gnawing hollow inside his ribs. Something real. The only thing that felt real anymore.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, voice cracking open. "Christ, I'm sorry."

"For what?" you asked, blinking up at him.

He looked away — jaw tight, throat working like he was swallowing broken glass.

"For... this," he said finally, bitter and raw. "For being... me."

You sat up slightly, bracing yourself on one hand. The motel lamp cast a soft halo around you — made you look almost unreal.

Like something he’d dreamed up.

"You don't have to apologize for surviving," you said simply.

He huffed out a broken sound — half laugh, half sob.

"Survivin'?" he echoed, voice twisted. "That what you call it?"

He dragged a hand through his hair, rough and shaking.

"You don’t know the shit I’ve done, sweetheart. You don’t... you wouldn’t look at me the same if you knew."

You reached out and cupped his jaw — gently but firmly, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"I know enough," you said, fierce and soft all at once. "I know who you are now."

Something cracked inside him. Deep and jagged and bleeding. He surged forward — grabbing you like he was afraid you'd disappear — burying his face against your neck, arms locked tight around your waist. You held him. Without fear. Without flinching. Just held him.

He didn’t realize he was shaking until you started murmuring nonsense into his hair — soothing, rhythmic sounds — rocking him slightly like he was something fragile and precious.

Ben had been called a lot of things in his life. Hero. Weapon. Monster. Mistake. Never precious. Not once. And hearing those words coming out of your beautiful mouth broke him.

"You don’t have to fight alone anymore," you whispered, voice trembling with the weight of it. "You have me. You’ll always have me, you, beautiful boy."

And it broke him. Utterly.

He clutched you tighter, like if he let go for even a second the whole world would collapse around him again.

"You’re the only thing that feels real," he whispered against your skin so raw, so broken that it barely sounded like his voice. "The only goddamn thing."

You kissed his temple. And for once, Soldier Boy — Ben — let himself believe it.

--

// PLEASE GIVE THIS A REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED\\

[myechoecho]

The Prisoner of Beauty, ep 5-7

Wei Shao was genuinely offended for Xiao Qiao receiving a weasel as part of her dowry so he goes and hunts the lynx that she deserves as part of his proposal to her.

I also wonder if the including the weasel was a further underlying insult. I'm not sure if it is the same in Chinese culture, but calling or implying that someone is a weasel is an insult where I am. You are sneaky and untrustworthy, which kinda fits given the overall basis of the feud. But I am not sure on this theory as I don't know if weasel has the same connotation.

The wedding was filled with incredible tension, with the only light moment when he steadied her so she didn't fall. Both of them are completely on the edge and barely holding on. He can't even bring himself to eat the food or the wine (are they really married if they don't do the ceremonial rights?).

Do I basically understand his reasoning for keeping her outside the city walls? Sure. But he also just ignored her for a couple days and assumed someone would let her in. That's bad on him.

But ho boy did he ever run to her quickly once he knew she was still out there and him mom had written a letter of divorce. The man slammed one of the soldier into the carriage and broke the wheel. And then proceeded to carry bridal style in pouring rain, pulling her closer the longer he walked. *swoon* He should really reflect on why he reacted like that.

I will point out, despite how swoon worthy it was, she was already sick with high fever. Carrying her in the pouring rain on a very cold night was not the best idea. His horse was right there and it would have been faster, but I digress.

While the first time I do think he believed she was still sick, it's pretty clear he let her manipulate him. The side room was ridiculous and insulting. I honestly don't think he'd let her stay there regardless if she was sick or not. It's becoming more evident that while he can insult her, no one else can.

Wei Shao is definitely playing up their "love" for his uncle and the rest of the clan. At the same time, he's not really acting. This is coming from a pure place for him though he does not fully realize it yet. Look at his face when she pulls her hand away from his after he brings her into his study. Where she is the only woman allowed in.

I adored the bit with him walking too fast for her and Xiao Qiao asking him to slow down. I await the time for him to truly walk her pace.

I did squeal when he rolled up his sleeved and carried her bridal style (again!) so she would not have to walk on the puddles. He's a little unsure of himself after, and she gives a pleased smile when he turns away.

As for the box, how terrifying for Xiao Qiao when he suddenly turned on her and choked her. They had uneasy, but a bit better truce between them but he was furious about the box, beyond anything she ever expected.

I love how she showed him that she was telling the truth. She figured out the exact mechanism to unlock the box; she did not need to try to pry it open. There's no need for her to do so. She could just open it.

This shows him her brilliance and that she accurately deduced that whatever was in that box was precious to him. She would not scar the box because that would be scaring him.

I also love that she admitted she touched the box and apologized because that was wrong of her. He had warned her not to touch it, ever.

LOLOL at the chubby general applauding her when she left. I love him

Wei Shao opens the box and inside we see that is mementos of his grandfather, father and brother. Xiao Qiao was right about its importance. He's overcome with grief and torn from his need to avenge his family and his growing feelings for Xiao Qiao. I cannot wait for his next move.

Last note: holy age difference batman between Wei Shao and his brother who was slaughtered. He was old enough to be his father. Or a very young grandfather. Concubine system working as intended, I guess.

[staticwaffles]

My thoughts on the second season. Not looking to start a conversation here. I just want to get my thoughts and feelings down.

Overall:

The show looked amazing. Somehow better than the first season.

The production and design teams deserve all the awards.

I loved the cinematography.

I definitely felt Britell's absence but I thought Roberts did a decent job with the soundtrack.

The cast give some of their best performances ever this season.

The highs of the season were very high (Ghorman arc, Mon's speech), but the lows were very low for me (writing choices for some of the characters and the time jumps).

The three episodes a week thing was brutal and I really wish we had one episode a week instead. I wanted to sit with an episode for a week to dig into it and discuss it with my friends. It also sucked having this season end so fast after waiting over two years for it.

The first season will always hold a special place in my heart, and I wish deep down we were given five seasons in that style, or at least three seasons. I felt the second season, particularly from a character standpoint, really suffered from the time jumps.

If the first season is a 10/10 for me, then the second season is an 8/10, and it is very much carried by the Ghorman arc. For me, personally, the show succeeded in the story it wanted to tell, but didn't quite hit the mark as a Rogue One prequel.

Below are thoughts I wrote down after watching each arc, and then again after the finale. Warning: I yap a lot and don't make much sense.

Arc 1:

I have a weird relationship with this arc. It was very enjoyable, but the first two episodes felt like a bit of a departure from the usual tone of the series? And in retrospect, this arc felt really weird in the grand scheme of the season (and even the show). Not sure how to word how I'm feeling here.

I loved the opening sequence. Cassian's speech to Niya. Learning on the job when flying the TIE. It looked incredible and was a great way to open the season.

The acting of the two "leaders" of the Dipshit Brigade was not on the level of this show. Apologies, but their performances do kind of take me out of it.

Ben is great as Krennic (as expected). I like how they are setting up Ghorman here.

Bix being an older sister to Wilmon is very special to me and I love that dynamic.

"I'VE BEEN UPSIDE FOR TWO DAYS!" I am so sorry Cassian, but I laughed so hard at this part. I loved it.

Oh my gosh the dinner scene. Syril laying on the bed. Incredible stuff.

Bix has been through a lot, so I'm not sure how I feel about that scene happening to her character. However, I give kudos to the show for calling it what it is.

I liked seeing the wedding but I felt that too much time was spent here? Also RIP Tay.

Pretty sure they just wrote off B2 here. At least he's alive?

Brasso :(

Footnote since I've watched the finale. Did they really not once mention B2 or Brasso at all after this arc??? I was a little shocked Cassian didn't toast to him with Vel. These were both beloved characters and then they were just...gone. I know B2 made a brief appearance at the end, but come on.

Arc 2:

This arc was much more Andor-like than the first. But all three episodes being released was brutal on my first watch. There was SO much information to process.

I can't stress this enough. Ghorman looks AMAZING. Practical sets my beloved.

This arc solidified my love for Kleya. She is up there on my list of favourite characters. And Elizabeth is knocking it out of the park with her acting. This was further cemented for me in the finale.

I'm really enjoying what they are doing with Syril. As well as Dedra.

Cassian going undercover as Varian Skye and code switching was everything to me. I need more of this.

Mon and Krennic going at each other in a verbal fist fight oh hell yeah.

Bix and Cassian. Where to begin. They're cute, and Diego and Adria have great chemistry, but I am not liking the direction they are taking with Bix and how they are writing her. The revenge scene was cool I guess? But it happened very suddenly. I needed more build up to it.

Not going to lie, I was expecting Cassian to be more committed to the cause at this point given what happened on Ferrix, his reaction to Nemik's manifesto, Narkina, and the whole "kill me or take me in" thing. I also felt he was rather largely absent from this arc?

Cinta's death. Oh boy. Just why? It was way too soon after they just reconciled. Vel and Cinta have hardly had much screen time at this point. I think it was at this moment I realized how much the time jumps were hurting this season as a lot of character development takes place off screen.

Arc 3:

Easily the best arc of the entire season. Episode 8 and 9 deserve the high praise and ratings.

They really like making Cassian shirtless in episode 7, huh? I'm not complaining.

More Bix and Wil sibling dynamic ahhh my heart.

Yavin looks great! I just wish we got to see more of them setting up the base and recruiting people. Again, the time jumps are taking these things away from us.

I actually quite liked the part with the Force Healer. Cassian being the "messenger" and "there's some place he needs to be" bit. They also played a stripped/slowed down version of the music that plays when he dies 1) during that part, 2) when Bix tells him later what the Force Healer said and they hug, 3) when Bix tells Vel "he'll be there when you need him", and 4) when Cassian is telling Bix he's done and that "there are still places to go to", and yeah that broke my heart :(

Episode 8. What can I say. An absolute masterpiece. I don't think I'll ever stop hearing the Ghor singing their national anthem and Dreena's broadcast.

Syril and Cassian's fight was incredibly well done and well worth the two season long build up. Also Cassian going "who are you?" had me screaming.

I also thought Syril was very well written over both seasons. I understood his motivations and his reactions. I thought his ending was well done. Huge props to Kyle for absolutely killing it as Syril.

And then Mon Mothma. Oh my gosh. What an amazing character. She has been one of my favourites since the first season. And I really like how this show has given so much more depth to her character. Genevieve O'Reilly deserves all the awards for her performance.

Speaking of Mon, her speech was incredible, and I loved the use of Eulogy here. There's a small part of me that wished she got her own epic monologue soundtrack, though.

Mon and Cassian on my screen together. I really needed this. I also like how Cassian extracting Mon showcases why he is the guy for the job.

I quite like where they're taking Cassian here. Like I said, he's the guy for the job, but he doesn't want to be the guy. I didn't quite fully understand this until his discussion with Kleya and then later with Luthen where he says, "I make my own decisions" and Luthen responds with, "Is that what you've been doing?" Cassian is someone who wants to make his own choices, but hardly gets to. Ever since Maarva took him from Kenari, it's mostly been others making these major life choices for him. I see the impact of this when he lets Wil go find Dreena. Even though it kills Cassian on the inside, he won't take that choice away from Wil. Then in Rogue One, Cassian finally makes his own choices. Idk this take on Cassian makes him more complex and human to me, and I really like it. It also strengthens the parallels between him and Jyn.

My two complaints with the above point is that 1) this should have happened sooner in the season, and 2) his relationship with Bix is just not done well enough for me to feel that it's the major thing holding him back from being fully committed.

Speaking of Bix, she is pushed to the side this arc. She's an amazing mechanic, so why couldn't there have been scenes of her teaching new recruits? Or doing a weapons assessment? Or just doing something that contributes to the base? Her speech at the end, whilst sad and well acted, didn't really stick the landing with me. I like her character and just feel she deserved better :( also Adria does a great job playing Bix and I wanted to see more.

Same with Vel. I needed to see more of her here. Maybe a discussion with Bix about Cinta, Brasso, and all the others they've lost (edit: this took place in the last arc, but with Cassian instead of Bix. I'm glad it happened but I'm still salty at no Brasso mention).

At least K2 is here. I don't mind the way they've introduced him into the series, I'm just sad we only get one arc with him and Cassian together. He really needed to be introduced sooner for me.

Despite my grievances, this arc was phenomenal.

Arc 4:

Episode 10 was amazing. Luthen, and especially Kleya, were some of the biggest highlights of this show for me. It was a risk putting an episode like this in the final arc, but I think it ultimately paid off.

The rest of this arc was enjoyable, but it felt like a "oh shit we need to tie into Rogue One" arc. It was a bit jarring getting into this after Ghorman and Mon's speech in the previous week.

Having Melshi, K2, and Cass together on my screen is something I'm so grateful for (be still my secret little Melshian heart). I loved all their scenes together. Also, more Melshi is always a good thing!

Speaking of K2, I do wish we had more of him. I understand the decision to not bring him in earlier, but I still feel disappointed.

Cassian throwing himself over Kleya to protect her? Obsessed.

Goodbye Bryar pistol :( it doesn't look like he had it with him after extracting Kleya.

Loved Vel and Cass toasting to some of those who have fallen (still upset at no Brasso mention, though). And I loved seeing more Vel on my screen, especially with Mon and Kleya.

Holy shit that ending for Dedra. That interrogation scene with Krennic was terrifying as well.

Nemik's manifesto again!!!!!! And WOW that ending for Partagaz.

I was a little shocked at there being no Jyn mention? Or at least something alluding to her existence? I'm glad they mentioned Galen at least.

Not sure how I feel yet on Cassian's characterization in the show. I enjoyed a lot of what they brought to the character, but I felt like he didn't get as much development as he did in the first season? I guess I'm a little disappointed, but overall satisfied. Ultimately, I was hoping for better in the final season.

Loved the little montage at the end though of Cassian walking through Yavin to depart for Kafrene. I sobbed. He also watered his plants beforehand. And yes I cried at that.

Not particularly happy with the baby scene. I feel like Bix, in general, deserved more screen time (independent of Cassian) and better writing if this is where they were taking her. However, I'm just not a big fan of this trope in general...

I'm happy Wilmon is alive and with Dreena.

B2 my beloved!!!!

I am definitely due for a Rogue One rewatch soon.

[battle-subway-twins]

Galvantula was very happy with how fast she was now compared to when she was a Joltik! Now she could finally out speed fluffy Eevee! She made some happy chirps from her perch on the wall and seemed to laugh when Pendra tried to follow for a second. Never met a jumpy bug! Was a jumpy bug before, don't know about now though! There was much she still didn't know about herself actually but that was fine! Learning is fun!

However she definitely moved to obey Emmet's whistled command happily as the two young trainers entered. She too wanted to make friends but she knew that she had to wait with Emmet until he said it was okay. It made her feel better when Pendra was called back as well. Emmet even bent down to give her some gentle pets which made her buzz happily, much to the two young trainers' amusement. "Much as I know you want to battle you just evolved so you will battle next time! We don't want to strain you!" He gave her an extra happy pet when she seemed sad but did go back into her Pokeball contently after getting reassured.

Thankfully for everyone Ingo had excellent balance due to his daily commute on the trains. So when Daedra's balance shifts he was able to help correct her without much issue. He doesn't even mind when she squeezes his hand to help compensate for the moment and shakes his head, "no need to apologize, most passengers who do not commute daily actually have a harder time balancing while the train is moving. You did very well." He gave her a polite nod after saying so and his voice sounded like he was smiling though his face didn't really show it. That permafrown of his was just something he couldn't really shake at times and it seemed to be worse around trainers coming to battle them due to his concentration.

Emmet meanwhile had moved away from the seats to his normal spot when battling and seemed to be considering things as he watched Pendra move to her trainer and his brother. Hm... "Emmet thinks so long as Pendra stays there and doesn't move she should be fine out of her ball during the battle! But you can always call her back should it prove different." He smiles to her happily before turning back to the trainers as Ingo comes to join him. While watching his brother move there was some nagging feeling starting to form in the back of his mind but he pushes it down for now in favor of focusing on the battle ahead!

Once in place and the trainers seemed ready Ingo started up his usual saying, "Let me introduce myself again. I am a Subway Boss, Ingo! Well, there is nothing else to say for the person who comes all the way here. Let's have the greatest battle, better than ever before." He then paused for Emmet to add on, "What I do. What I say. Always the same. Follow the rules. Safe driving! Follow the schedules. Everyone smile! Check safety. Everything's ready! Aim for victory! All aboard!"

The pair then threw out their first Pokemon, Excadrill for Ingo and Eelectross for Emmet. The pair of young trainers threw out their own Pokemon and the battle started! It was apparent that the twins were in perfect sync, each dishing out powerful moves and covering the other's weaknesses. It was apparent just how powerful each team's Pokemon were by the way the car shook but it never once felt badly thanks to its brilliant construction and design. The two challengers did manage to take out Excadrill first which had Ingo choose Haxorus while Emmet eventually did have switch out for Archeops after the challengers' Pokemon both needed to be switched out.

It was a close battle but in the end the twins did sadly lose out when Ingo seems to make a miscalculation and Haxorus faints when trying to take out one of the other trainer's Pokemon. This left Archeops facing two opponents and soon enough goes down as well but not before taking down another of the opposing team. The two trainers stand in stunned silence before giving a cheer while the twins clap for them though Ingo did seem a bit more strained than Emmet. "Bravo!! Really excellent! The best combination of you and your Pokémon. It is incredible! When you and someone else combine, your engine powers something special! If you like, please challenge us with a different combination," Ingo congratulates before Emmet tacks on, "I am Emmet. We lost against you. But I am satisfied. You are too strong! The strength you have, your trust in your Pokémon, their never-ending support! Yep! It was the most fun battle ever! Please come back soon!"

Pendra drooped her head down to watch the spider Pokemon scurry about the floor. Her legs moved super fast, like little broom sweepers! Think of all the fun treasures she could pick up! Then Galvantula scurried herself right up the wall! Pendra was very impressed, excitedly tapping her feet at the sight.

Ooooh~ You are a sticky bug!! Sticky bugs are good at climbing! Yes!! Very good! Pendra has never been able to do the sticky; the Scolipede gave a disappointed doot. She lifted one leg and pressed the bottom of her foot experimentally to a free space on the train wall. It pulled away without any resistance. Alas-- no sticky... But Pendra could jump very high and very far! No sticky needed!

All conversations within the train car, Pokemon or Person related, went silent as the back entryway of the car slid open. Daedra blinked in curiosity, craning her head a bit passed the Subway Masters to see two hopeful youths stepping inside. Oh! Trainers-- it seemed things were really going fortunately today! For Pendra and Daedra anyway... but who would have the fortune in the upcoming Pokemon battle now?

Pendra watched as Galvantula scurried from the wall and towards her trainer. Pendra's antennae wriggled, noticing there were new peoples when she turned to look. Perking her head up, she made to go over and say hello! Friendly peoples--- but Daedra gave a gentle call of her name to get her attention before she could do so. Like her fellow bug, Pendra was a good Pokemon and immediately clomped her big self over towards her own trainer and Ingo.

While Emmet saw to the new arrivals, Daedra followed after Ingo. Getting up from her seat, she smiled as she took the Subway Master's offered hand. Unlike him, the redhead had lost her 'subway legs' as it were, from not riding so consistently in recent years. While not in threat of a tumble, a small bounce on the rail prompted her to shift her footing, her hand inadvertently squeezing and clinging to Ingo's for an extended moment.

"Oh, sorry about that," she offered with a giggle. "Thank you, Mr. Ingo! I'll definitely make sure to keep a firm hold the entire time!"

By then, Pendra had made her way over to the two. Giving a happy doot in greeting. Daedra couldn't help but watch her large Pokemon a bit enviously. Pendra had no trouble navigating the ever shifting and bouncing rail car. Never once did her thick legs slip or slide, in fact, she seemed to be able to anticipate a bump and would pause her step just until it passed. A veritable Subway Riding Master, all on her first day~