#but i think it was probably half wishful thinking and half observation

[fideidefenswhore]

Long before the time of the French ambassadors' visit, Henry and Katherine were mainly living apart. Soon after Mary had departed with her entourage for Ludlow in 1525, her mother was complaining to her, 'I am in that case that the long absence of the king and you troubleth me.'

The Children of Henry VIII (2013), John Guy

[youjustwaitsunshine]

eheheheh abt cupra fe wants seb (vettel) to replace robin please dont give me hopeee

[pucksandpower]

Never Have I Ever

Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader

Summary: a game of Never Have I Ever leads to revelations your brother wishes he could forget (and half the grid running for their lives)

“Alright Y/N, it’s your turn!” Lando says, turning to you with an impish grin. “Give us a good one!”

You bite your lip, looking around the circle of F1 drivers sitting cross-legged on the floor of Charles’ palatial hotel suite. It’s a rare night off for everyone during the season, and Charles had suggested a casual get-together for some bonding time. That, of course, led to drinking games, and now here you all are, a few rounds into Never Have I Ever.

“Hmm...” you say slowly, tapping your chin as you think. Your brother, sitting to your left, playfully shoves your shoulder.

“Come on, hermanita! Don’t go easy on us,” he says with a laugh. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

“Okay, okay! Never have I ever … raced in Formula 1,” you declare. A chorus of groans goes up around the circle as everyone except you drinks.

“That was just mean, Y/N!” Lance protests, though his eyes are twinkling with amusement. You grin and give a nonchalant shrug.

“All’s fair in Never Have I Ever!”

The game continues, the questions getting more and more outrageous and personal. Though you’re the only non-driver here, you feel completely comfortable around these guys. You’ve known most of them for years now through your brother, and they welcomed you into the F1 family immediately. It’s fun to sit back and observe their antics and camaraderie.

“Alright, I’ve got one,” Daniel says, leaning forward with an devilish smirk. “Never have I ever … slept with someone on the grid.”

You feel your eyes widen slightly at the implication, but force yourself not to react. Still, you can’t help but notice Fernando slyly taking a sip of his drink out of the corner of your eye. The rest of the drivers turn to look at him in surprise.

“What?” Fernando says with an innocent look. “Have you seen Mark Webber?”

The others burst into laughter at this excuse, the tension effectively diffused. As all eyes stay focused on Fernando, you slowly lift your own glass to your lips and take a subtle sip.

Just as you’re lowering it though, you feel Carlos stiffen next to you. Uh oh. You chance a glance at your brother and immediately regret it at the sight of the shock and anger flashing in his eyes. Before you can say anything, Carlos is on his feet.

“Alright, which one of you was stupid enough to touch my sister?” He demands heatedly.

Instantly, almost comically, Charles, Max, Lando, Pierre, Alex, Oscar, and Logan scramble to their feet and take off running in different directions.

Carlos’ eyes nearly bug out of his head before he takes off after them, yelling Spanish profanities. You sit there stunned for a second before dissolving into laughter. Only Fernando and Daniel remain seated beside you, chuckling and shaking their heads.

“Carlos! Hermano, calm down!” You call after your brother fruitlessly. Still giggling, you turn to Fernando. “I should probably go deal with him before he actually hurts someone, huh?”

“Probably wise,” Fernando says with an amused smile. “Good luck, chica.”

You give him a grateful smile before jumping to your feet and hurrying after Carlos. You find him in the next room, gripping a cowering Lando by the front of his shirt.

“Please don’t kill me!” Lando squeaks out. “It was one time!”

“Carlos, stop!” You cry, rushing over and grabbing your brother’s arm. “Let him go!”

Carlos drops Lando immediately, who scurries away like a frightened mouse. Your brother whirls on you, face still red with anger.

“Y/N, what the hell? You never told me you’ve been with these pendejos!”

You hold up your hands in a calming gesture. “I know, I’m sorry! It just sort of … happened. With everything going on in the paddock, it’s hard to avoid getting close to people. A girl has needs!”

Carlos drags a hand down his face, looking positively murderous. You place a gentle hand on his arm.

“Carlos, listen to me. I’m a grown woman, I can make my own choices. I know you want to protect me, but I’m okay, I promise.”

Your brother’s expression softens slightly as he looks down at you. He pulls you into a tight hug.

“Lo siento, hermanita. I just worry about you, that’s all. The grid is like a family, but still ...”

You hug him back reassuringly. “I know. But you don’t need to go all Spanish Inquisition on them, okay? I can handle myself.”

Carlos sighs but finally relents with a small smile. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to restrain myself from beating them all senseless.”

You laugh. “Much appreciated. Now come on, let’s get back out there and pretend this never happened, yeah?”

Carlos winces slightly but agrees, allowing you to lead him back out to the others. Most have returned to the circle now, shooting your brother wary glances. You give them a reassuring smile as you sit back down, Carlos settling tensely beside you.

“Right!” You say brightly. “Whose turn was it?”

There’s a beat of uncertain silence before Logan clears his throat.

“Uh, I believe it was mine,” he says. “Never have I ever … had a podium finish.”

There’s a communal exhale of relief as the game gets back underway. You catch Carlos’ eye and give him a pointed look, reminding him of his promise. He sighs but gives you a subtle nod and an apologetic smile.

The questions continue on, ranging from silly to risqué, though nothing quite as explosive as before. You’re relieved to see your brother laughing and back to his normal self.

As the night winds down, you’re struck by a feeling of gratitude and affection for this group. Despite the drama and tensions of the season, at the end of the day, you’re all a family.

These guys welcomed you with open arms, and you know Carlos is just looking out for you. You lean against your brother with a contented sigh, smiling around at the drivers joking and chatting happily. No matter what happens on and off the track, you know you’ll always have each other.

***

“Alright everyone, glasses up! We’re doing this again!”

You grin around at the drivers gathered once more, this time to celebrate the one year anniversary of your first Never Have I Ever night together.

“Who’s starting us off this time?” Lando asks, bouncing excitedly in his seat.

“Ooh me, me!” Alex volunteers, raising his hand eagerly. Everyone chuckles.

“Alright Albon, give us a good one,” Lewis encourages.

Alex strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, never have I ever … raced in F1 before 2019.”

A majority of the group drinks at that one. “Trying to knock out us old farts, eh?” Fernando jokes, elbowing Alex.

The questions continue on, each one prompting laughs and cheers among the group. You’re filled with the same warm contentment as last year, smiling around at your dear friends.

About halfway through, you clear your throat. “I’ve got one! Never have I ever … been an uncle.”

Most of the drivers take a drink between smiles and coos about nieces and nephews. You notice Carlos doesn’t drink and turn to him with a playful grin.

“Uh, hermano, I think you forgot to drink for that one,” you say pointedly.

Carlos looks at you in confusion. “What? None of my sisters have kids.”

You simply keep staring at him meaningfully until realization dawns on his face. His eyes go wide, flicking down to your still-full glass of untouched alcohol.

“Y/N … are you ...” he breathes in disbelief.

You nod again. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment Carlos just stares at you in shock. Then his face starts turning red, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats through gritted teeth. The other drivers fall silent, exchanging uneasy glances.

“Who did this to you? Who’s the cabrón who touched my sister again?” Carlos demands, voice rising.

You shrink back slightly, smile fading. Maybe you should have told him privately.

“I … Carlos, please, just calm down,” you say weakly.

But your brother is beyond calming down now. He whips his head around the circle, glaring daggers at each driver.

“Who was it? Who permanently defiled my innocent baby sister?”

You open your mouth uncertainly, not quite sure how to answer. Before you can though, Charles abruptly jumps to his feet.

“WellwouldyalookatthetimeIgottagonowbye!” He blurts out hurriedly before turning and sprinting from the room.

“LECLERC!” Carlos bellows, tearing off after him. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you at the sight. Some things never change.

The other drivers are cracking up too. “Think we should go make sure Carlos doesn’t actually kill him?” Lando asks with a grin.

You wave a hand dismissively. “Nah, let them work it out. Charles will tire him out eventually.”

Still chuckling, you lean back against the couch next to Fernando, who has an arm draped casually around your shoulders.

“Those two, I swear. Will Carlos ever stop seeing me as his baby sister?” You muse with a smile.

Fernando grins and shakes his head. “Doubtful, chica. But that’s how brothers are. He’s just watching out for you.”

From the other room, you hear a crash followed by yelling in multiple languages. You and Fernando share an amused look.

“At least he didn’t try to fight the whole grid again,” you point out. Fernando barks out a laugh at the memory.

“Give him time. The night is still young,” he says with a playful wink.

You laugh again, cuddling into Fernando’s side. Even with your brother’s antics, you truly feel so lucky to have this group in your life. Friends turned family.

As you hear Carlos’ angry shouts getting closer, followed by Charles’ panicked apologizing, you think to yourself that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[mellosdrawings]

What's that? I finally took the time to make an actual character sheet for my Yuusona?

Yuu

17 years old, 1st year

They/them, probably on the aro/ace spectrum though they never really thought about it (they do get weird when people show interest in them)

Half Japanese half french

Probably has some flavor of AuDHD

Back home: Before they were kidnapped forcefully moved to Twisted Wonderland, they were the main caretaker of four younger siblings while their parents were busy working. One of their main worry now is whether their siblings are doing alright without them. Their deepest wish is to at least be able to phone call their family to reassure them that they are ok.

Personality: They usually prefer to stand to the side and observe rather than talk and engage with others. They tend to be very prudent with their actions, up until their patience runs out. They're actually pretty perceptive and great at reading others, they just keep everything to themself without realizing.

They make up their absence of magic with their fists and wits. People tend to underestimate them due to their size and quiet demeanor, but they can be vicious and ruthless when push comes to shove. They are not very expressive physically.

At school: Yuu has a terrible focus so they struggle a lot, even when the subject interests them. They are very fond of History of Magic but also hates it because learning a whole world's history in a few months only is a nightmare and a half. They also hate flying with a passion since they are scared of heights. If they could choose a club, Yuu would go for photography and/or filming.

At Ramshackle: Yuu cleans the dorm as a past time, it keeps their body moving while they're thinking about what problem they currently have. They hate cooking though, so when the cafeteria isn't accessible they try to cram themselves in whichever dorm will have them to enjoy someone else's cooking. They aren't very time savvy so they and Grim keep leaving late in the mornings.

Relationships (with Housewardens/OB)

Yuu has a soft spot for Riddle. Unless it's some rule they find completely nonsensical they tend to do whatever Riddle asks. Whenever Yuu comes to class with a clean uniform, it's because Riddle was around to correct their appearance.

Yuu and Leona's relationship is peak siblinghood. Once Yuu figures out that Leona won't act on (half of) his threats, it's over for him. He's one of the first Yuu comes to when they have a problem.

Yuu and Azul regularly try to outsmart each other. At first their interest with Azul is very transactional since he can help with everything Crowley can't be bothered to do (ie give Yuu an actual legal presence in this world) but since they have somewhat similar mindsets they end up getting along very well.

Yuu values Kalim's presence a lot. He's one of the rare pure hearted people at school so Yuu doesn't have to be hyper vigilant around him. It's a breath of fresh air. He is a bit too active for Yuu though, so they tire very fast around him.

"It takes one liar to know another" would be Jamil and Yuu's relationship starter. They had weird vibes from each other from the very start but Jamil did end up underestimating Yuu. Yuu is obsessed with Jamil's hair and regularly takes pictures of him.

Yuu is kinda scared of Vil (in a good way). If they were a tad more outgoing they'd be asking Vil to pose for their camera 24/7. Instead they quietly worship him.

If Yuu could, they'd adopt Idia (and Ortho). Yuu tends to miss their siblings all the time so they get a bit emotional around them both.

Yuu loves to observe Malleus. He's some kind of very strange entity that they can't get enough of and they don't understand half of what he talks about which tickles their curiosity a lot.

Yuu treats Grim like their own cat and plushie. They hold him in their arm as much as possible (until Grim gets tired of it and wanders off somewhere else) because it reassures them. They do fight a lot, a bit like siblings, but they also look out for the other all the time. Yuu sometimes agree to cook for Grim despite hating it.

Relationships (the less fun kind):

Since they're in a world they don't know with students who try to kill them every couple months, Yuu is very defensive in how they approach relationships. Everything starts as transactional and about how "useful" someone can be to keep around. They try to keep even the people they don't really get along with close for this reason.

They are actually very emotional (despite not showing it) so their heart takes precedence over their brain eventually. Despite not being particularly proactive they do go out of their way to help the ones they're close to.

[tremendouscreationperson]

A few of you wanted a part three so here goes

Reader gets called Doll and Toots but other than that I think it's pretty GN

Part 1 Part 2

Ford - no Stan - had spun his tale. You weren't sure any of it could be possible. How was you supposed to believe that Ford was alive but not in this universe/realm/reality?

You sat in the lab he had brought you to - it was cold and dank, stark lights illuminated metal plates and cascaded up the walls to show off a large triangular 'portal'.

"Why'd you have to die?" You asked, eyes glued to the journal upon your knees.

For-Stan had been waiting for any questions, willing to provide you answers. "Seemed easier."

"And lying to me?" You flicked through the stained pages. "That was easy?"

"It wasn't." He told you honestly, just hearing his voice was crazy. You had believed he was dead for two years and he wasn't! He was here the whole time. "Gotta admit, I had you fooled."

The attempt at a joke was not humourous in the slightest. "This isn't normal behaviour."

Stanley didn't know what else to do. He hadn't thought you would ever realise, perhaps that was stupid on his part but he really thought he was able to coexist with you as Ford.

"So..." You took a deep breath. "Recap: this is Ford's journal and he wanted you to take it away and you both argued and he got sucked into that thing and now you're him and Stan is dead and you're trying to get him back?"

Stan nodded, twiddling his thumbs. "Yeah. It's been hard, I had to relearn math."

"Who else wrote in here?"

"Huh?"

You pointed at the page. "That's not Ford's handwriting. Although look, 'ford' signed it." A humourless chuckle escaped. "Who else is pretending to be your brother?"

Stan was at your side in an instant, looking over your shoulder. Being so close to him was maddening.

He was alive.

Your Stan was alive.

Yeah, maybe he was a fraud and there was weird space mumbo jumbo that you still don't entirely believe but he was alive.

Your face was turned towards him as he studied the page, his fingers grazing yours underneath the words. How did he look like him now?

You didn't see Ford in him at all.

The way he stood, his neutral expression, even his hair was different. Was Stanley.

"I didn't notice that." He spoke lowly due to the proximity.

"Is there anyone else in the town called Ford?"

Stan's gaze landed on you, his nose inches from yours and he opened his mouth to speak before closing it and just observing you. He really took you in.

Despite the lies you were still here. Still entertaining this. He really wished he had more to offer you but he didn't.

He was just him. He wasn't his brilliant brother or full of mysteries or answers. He was just Stan, a con artist who scammed people daily.

"I don't know." The words finally left his mouth and he quickly stood upright.

~~

Rather than leaving tonight, you had stayed longer because of the news, calling in sick at work, how often could you say someone had come back from the dead?

The two of you ate half the pasta you made, sitting awkwardly opposite each other at the table.

He had been open and honest, answering all of your questions keenly and encouraging you to ask more. And you had to admit that was nice but the news still sat heavily on your shoulders.

Mostly because: FUCKING HELL THIS WAS CRAZY and a slither of: you had told FORD THAT YOU LOVED STANLEY AND BROUGHT HIM UP IN MANY CONVERSATIONS AND HE WAS THE ONE YOU WERE TALKING TO AND YOY WERE EMBARRASSED AS FUCK BUT YOU NEEDED TO HELP AND HDJAKSIEIES

"You, er.. you okay?" Stan toyed with a meatball.

"It's just a lot to process." That wasn't a lie. "I'll probably be like this for a few days."

He gave you a sincere smile, "take your time, do-"

Your eyes snapped up to his pink face. "Were you going to call me doll?" He nodded in affirmative, his ears reddening as well. You weren't sure why but you spared him with: "Hmm, better than toots."

"That was one time!" He insisted.

"That's all it took."

"I only said it to piss you off." He smirked cheekily, his face returning to its usual hue.

"It worked." Rolling your eyes as you giggled. You didn't hold any real malice, he was being cocky demonstrating his pick up moves and they did not work... Well they did but it was easier to pass off your hot face and wide eyes as anger rather than awe.

Stan laughed along with you, enjoying the sound. Loving how easy it was to just be himself. He didn't have to wear the gloves which made everything impossible, he didn't have to act stiff and drop big words into his 'lexicon', and he didn't have to lie. He could be himself.

He knows he doesn't deserve this, by God he knows that, but he would take all you'd willingly give; if that was just dinner before you drove away forever then he would take it and be thankful for the time.

"Want a beer?" He found himself asking.

You didn't reply straight away, ideas tumbling around your head. He loved watching your mind work. "Got anything stronger?"

Stan winked and disappeared to get the whiskey he'd stashed away.

And so the two of you found yourselves sitting on his 'balcony' (a little ledge, that you had to climb through a window to access, underneath the 'mystery shack' sign) forgoing glasses and passing the bottle between you.

"Must feel good to tell someone." Your words slurred as you laid on your spine, staring at the stars beyond the trees.

"It does." He took a sip. "Feel bad that it was you though."

You swivelled your neck to give him a confused face. He bellowed out a laugh. "Oit, don't laugh at me." Your socked toe jabbed his thigh.

Stan placed a hand over your foot, just holding it, forcing your hips to manoeuvre into a more comfortable position. You faced him as he watched the treeline. "Sorry to drag you into this."

"Sorry I didn't notice sooner." How didn't you? He was clearly Stan. There was nothing here that said Ford. "You're so obviously my Stan." You rolled your eyes and folded your arms in annoyance at yourself.

Stan's brows shot up and he turned to catch you grumbling at yourself. "Your Stan?"

Your eyebrows met and you scrunched your face in confusion again. "What?"

"You said 'my Stan'." His lips began to lift into the smuggest smirk as he leaned forward, entering your bubble. "I didn't realise I was your Stan."

"Shut up." You playfully pushed him away. "We're drunk, you don't know what you heard."

Stan didn't let up, instead he found your hand and intertwined your fingers. "I kinda like being someone's Stan." He spoke with a half shrug.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was this a dream fueled by your longing and whiskey? "Well, you know how I feel because you were spying on me! Pretending to be Ford to hear what I had to say about you!"

"Hey, I told you Stan liked you too!" He defended.

"Do-" You paused. When did the two of you get so close? You were nose to nose. "Does Stan still feel that w-"

You weren't given a chance to finish the question because his lips were on yours. He kissed you slowly, one palm on your cheek as the other wound around your spine, pulling you in close. Your hands were pinned against his chest as you kissed him back enthusiastically.

Stan's slow kisses morphed into an intense make out session as he ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you gave him access. His hands exploring all over your body, squeezing and caressing your sides and chest causing your spine to curve.

The two of you were buzzing and the kiss was a little sloppy but it was perfect. You wouldn't want it any other way.

He finally allowed the two of you a breather, kissing his way down your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive flesh. You squirmed again, back arching as a whispered moan tumbled from you.

That sobered him up, Stan raised his head from your neck, looking down at you and saw the needy look in your eyes. "Maybe we should wait 'til we're not blitzed."

The automatic frown you wore had him chuckling as you pulled his face back to yours, kissing him with as much vigour as you could muster.

Stan bit your bottom lip and his fingers settled on your thighs, how he managed to find himself in between them he didn't know but you pulled him closer with your legs and he had to pinch himself.

This was real.

All the shit he had done.

Every scam, every fraud, every crime, everything.

And you still looked at him with those eyes.

Fuck.

Maybe he loved you.

.

.

.

@aratheegreat @ngs991-2 @seahorrorz @misty-eyed-memory @50shadesofwinchesters @ryoiii @viceroywrites @atseoks @countlessimagines @aweleyirene @hesthermay @darlingdia1007 @piningforstan @emmygirl33 @imafangirlofeverything @daniel-meyer-03

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I work in a DIY shop and this is what I had to look at for the majority of my shift 😂😭 he haunts me

[mrsnancywheeler]

andante, andante // finnick odair x f. reader

masterlist

3.3k words

request: could you write a oneshot where finnick and reader have always had a flirty relationship. the reader got taken and tortured by snow during the quarter quell, and she was brought to thirteen and when finnick sees her lots of fluff (and maybe smut?) ensues. i love your work, happy 700 followers!

warnings: smut, lots of it, there's some angst in the beginning Captiol related, confessions of feelings, hurt/comfort in the beginning, pnv, some degredation, teasing, use of good girl, unprotected sex, no use of y/n, unedited

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

There was no energy left, not a single part of your body had any form of passion left. Long ago you'd grown immune to the effects that Peeta and Johanna's screams had once had on you, probably once the starvation and dehydration had kicked in. Not to mention when you were trying to fight off the rats you could swear where in your pitch black cell, sometimes you'd swear you saw other creatures as well, but you tried to tell yourself it was hallucinations.

So when the team from District 13 came to rescue you all, you desperately willed the energy to return. You couldn't see him like this, Finnick. Technically you were just friends, but your relationship hinged on the flirtatious, playful banter which you didn't know if you had anymore. You hadn't spoken in a while, maybe you wouldn't even recognize your voice, it's not like the Capitol had much information they could get out of you. No one had thought to inform you of the rebel plan, for a while part of you was terrified that Snow would just have you killed for not knowing anything, but you were kept alive.

You'd had endless time to spend, when you weren't hearing or seeing things in your hazy state, to think about Finnick. How you weren't sure if he felt the same way about you that you'd felt about him for years, but should've said something before all this. Wishing that before you surely died in the Capitol he would know you had always cared for him, loved him from afar. You'd rather die with your love unrequited, but known. Yet now you'd see him again and you hoped if there was a chance he had feelings for you that you were half the woman you once were.

Of course, once all the fluids the medics were pumping you full of had taken effect you'd probably feel some of the spirit you'd had return. The universe seemed to look down on you because the first feeling you did feel in full force was anxiety about Finnick. You'd heard whispers of his names from guards so you knew he wasn't dead, but hadn't a clue how he actually was. Maybe you'd made up the voices of the guards and he actually was dead, what a cruel fate that would be, but with the way your life seemed to pan out it wouldn't have shocked you. Although if he was alive it condemned you to living the rest of your life in silent adoration, but he was the only person you would ever do that for.

When you entered the District 13 base on that medical bed the next full force feeling hit, overstimulation. The only noise you had been used to in weeks were the cries of Peeta and Johanna which you'd learned to tune out regardless of how loud, and the occasional order from a guard or a whisper. The flurry of doctors ready to fully assess injuries, people standing around full of questions, all the chatter and noise had your hands flying up to cover your ears. It was too bright, too loud, the bed was rickety in the floors little bumps, and you actually longed to be back in the familiarity of the cell.

“Hey, you're okay, honey." A much softer voice, much closer, warms ringer delicately brushing the hands covering your ears. Finnick. Your eyes snapped open as you slowly observed him.

“Finnick?" Your voice was much quieter, scratchier than you'd remembered it, but he seemed to hear you just fine. His kind smile blessing you as he slowly nodded, the next emotion was relief. You hadn't cried in a while, no water to allow yourself, but the fluids must have been working miracles because you felt like there was a flood about to break through your tear ducts. “You're real right?"

His hand landed more firmly on yours, assuring you with his very real body heat. “I'm real, I'm right here with you." Slowly you moved your hands from your ears, forcing yourself to take deep breaths to handle the noise. He looked like he was going to cry, “God, I'm so glad you're okay!" Finnick's warm embrace surrounded you and it made you want to melt into him forever. “They kept sedating me because I was so worried about you."

It confused you, to hear him talking about worrying about you with so much passion, of course he'd consumed your every thought, but you'd doubted you would've been on his. “Oh, come on, you would've found someone else to banter with, Finn." The first laugh you'd had in so long forced itself out.

“Good thing that the only person I want to banter with is you, and here you are, pretty face and all."

There was a pause before your voice came out again, delicate like a flower petal floating on the waters. "I missed you.” It came out sounding more vulnerable then you'd intended, maybe even too fond and he'd pulled his arms away. Before you could retreat though you were shocked when his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, and spoke a thousand words you could only ever wish to translate.

When he pulled away you could only stare at him stunned, he'd felt the same way you'd felt all along. “I'm sorry, I-" Before he could finish you pulled his face back in, kissing him, it was addictive, you could drown in his lips. “You know, it's rude to interrupt." He muttered out before kissing you again.

“Sorry." You weren't, there was no time to be when it was like you living in a dream. Maybe this was a dream, maybe you were back in the Capitol and had officially lost it, but the heat of his touch was too real for you to believe that.

“I've loved you for so long." Finnick's hand cupped your face which must have been burning up.

“Me too, I didn't think you'd ever even noticed me that way."

“How could I not have noticed my pretty, sweet girl that way?" His smile was so perfect it made you feel like you were floating. The doctors insisted on doing an official check up on you which Finnick stuck by you diligently for. Fluids and food was all you really needed besides further psychological evaluation, but there wasn't much time for that when apparently Peeta was turning out to be the biggest problem imaginable.

Finnick had sat by your hospital bed, slowly feeding you a soup that felt like the best thing you'd ever eaten with all the time you'd gone without a scrap. He filled you in on life in District 13, how much protocol there was, but it would be worth it to end all of this so you could be together. Apparently he'd been assigned his own compartment which he rarely used when the breakdowns hit, so he'd spent nearly every night sedated in the hospital wing.

Eventually the doctors agreed to let you take a shower, you'd still be sequestered to the hospital wing, but you were grateful for the chance to finally be clean. You could sense that Finnick hated that you would be out of his sight again, like the moment you walked away he would realize this was all a dream he was having that had slipped away under the cover of night. “Do you wanna come with?" You whispered to him as the medic on the other side took the IV out of your arm, “Somebody's gonna have to show me the way there."

“Can I?" He whispered back and hurt you to know that he'd been this hurt over you, that you'd both gone so long without a confession to the other.

You nodded slowly as you pressed a quick kiss on his lips and he smiled, maybe this wasn't a dream after all. Finnick guided you through the drab underground of District 13. It was stuffy, but you were overtaken by giddiness. The Finnick Odair was holding your hand, the Finnick Odair had meant every flirty comment he'd made, Finnick Odair loved you back, Finnick Odair wasn't just a dream you could never have, Finnick was here, Finnick was yours. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not. And the final petal had determined he loved you.

He turned the water on for you and Finnick respectfully turned around so you could undress and get inside of it. Your heart swelled to think he missed you so much he would be content to just sit outside, to feel your presence in the room. The feeling of the water hitting your skin was a relief, to feel the grime being washed away. It was lonely though, to think of him patiently waiting for you, how long he's waited to know you were safe, how long he'd waited for you to confess. “Are you gonna make me be alone in here?” You cringed at the way no matter how quiet your voice was it seemed to echo.

You'd hid behind the curtain, so you didn't have to confront the question. Maybe he didn't want to, but you'd also thought he just wanted to flirt as friends. The curtain swept to the side as he peeked his handsome face in, eyes glued to your face. "Not if you need my help, honey.” You would've sworn the way he said those endearments always made butterflies flutter in your stomach, even if it was something you'd felt guilty about when he initially began using it.

The hot water should have relaxed your muscles, but staring at his perfect, handsome face was making you feel a similar sensation that you despised. Whether he knew it or not, the sound of his voice, the things he'd say, and that smile of his all did unimaginable things to you. Things you'd felt guilty for when the fantasies flashed in your mind. He'd been your friend, so it must've been wrong to imagine him with his hands between your legs. Now though, he wasn't just your friend, and the feeling was back. “Maybe I do." It was embarrassing, but just being by his body would help you or maybe it would make the feeling worse, but you didn't care.

He grinned at you and disappeared for a few seconds before he'd opened the curtain again, slipping into the shower. “What do you need my help with, sweet girl?" Now you'd have to come up with something, you tried not to let your eyes trail over his body, he wasn't looking anywhere but your face. But it was hard when it felt like some tingling part of your body was now controlling your actions.

“Can you help me clean myself off?"

"Of course, honey.” He went to grab the shampoo bottle, eyes never ducking down. Part of you wanted him too though, so that this felt less like a dirty fantasy.

"You can look at me, you know? I won't bite, unless asked, promise.” You tried to sound like it was playful, soft and he laughed.

"Yeah, sorry, I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable either." You reassured, “I'm not making you uncomfortable though, am I? If I am-" One of his hands grabbed yours making you pause.

“You're not making me uncomfortable either, you're okay." His sweet smile made you feel more than just like melting, you hoped the wetness pooling between your thighs wouldn't be noticeable in the water. Finnick softly turned you around to wash your hair, he was so particular, taking his time and the feeling of his breath on your neck, clever fingers in your hair. It was so calming, “This okay, honey?" You could only hum in approval as his hands moved so delicately across your scalp. Your brain so easily fell into an easy blissful state as you let his hands move your head with ease. He finished with your hair soon enough and was moving onto washing your body. You shuddered when he carefully pushed your hair off the back of your neck, “You sure you're okay?”

"Yeah.” It comes out more strained than you'd meant it to and you pray he's not put off by it, which he doesn't seem to be as his hands keep trailing downwards. He's soaped and rinsed you off, moving you with so much care that you wish you could absorb each second of it, but you're trying to leave the moment. If you let yourself think about it you're sure you'll give yourself away with the way you'd be responding to his touch. Then it's nearly impossible when he's washing your face, his hands seem like they were perfectly meant to hold your face and suddenly so do his lips when he's kissing you again. Instantly you're pulling him in closer, basically inhaling whatever he gives you. Then you're pausing when his hands start slipping down the small of your back.

Much to your chagrin he pulls away, pausing his hands descent, as he looks at you, “Are you okay with this?" He asks, his eyes speak depths on how much he cares. You nod trying to lean in again, but he leans back, “Need to hear you say it, sweet girl."

"Yes, Finn.” It's barely audible, but he rewards you by kissing you again. Fingers continuing their trail down your back, grazing over nerves that make you shiver. His hands finally land on your hips and you can barely breathe, but you won't let yourself pull away from his lips. They're too addictive and you're too scared you'll wake up to realize you never left the Capitol. And then his hands are slipping lower, your thighs pressing together.

His hands are slowly spreading your legs apart and you let them. Whimpering into his lips when his fingers start tracing over your pussy. His lips pull away and you whine more, even if it gives you a chance to gasp for air. “You're dripping, sweet girl, I haven't even done anything. I bet…” Finnick trails off and you gasp when the tips of two of his fingers are lightly pushing into you. You're instantly clenching around them and he's smirking. “Were you gonna tell me I was making you this dizzy?" You hum out something incoherent when his other fingers start rubbing you. “Seems like someone doesn't know how to use her words, sweet girl, I just have to look at her and understand how needy she is…” He kisses your neck, "Doesn't tell me she feels the same way about me, I have to do it.” Another kiss to another sensitive spot and you gave up on any idea of suppressing the wanton sounds you're making now. He was rubbing you faster now, “Someone's gonna have to teach you to use your words, like a good girl. Not today though."

"Finn-” You moaned out, head tilting back. "Need you, need you so bad. Need you inside me.” You clenched around the tips of his stationary fingers and he thrusted them upwards, the sound you let out was guttural with shock.

“You sure you can take me, sweet girl? Want me to split you open instead of helping you open?" He sounded condescending as he kept moving his fingers inside of you as you whined, before letting out another moan as he slipped a third finger in you.

“Don't care, Finn, don't care if it hurts, need you cock in me. Please, please, please.”

He slipped his fingers out and your eyebrows scrunched together as you whined, he was opening your mouth with his fingers soaked in your juices. “You're my pretty little cock slut aren't you? Gonna let me break you on my cock?" You sucked his fingers in confirmation, licking off your own juices and he smirked. “Did you fantasize about me? Were you not able to tell me how you felt because you were too busy making yourself dumb thinking about my cock?" You nodded, moaning as his other hands began making even more aggressive circles. His hand titled your head up, “If you want my cock, then you're gonna tell me what you thought about when you were fucking yourself stupid."

It was hard to form words when you wanted to do nothing but whine at the pleasure rushing through your body, "You, I thought about how much I wanted you-” Your head fell back when his circles got rougher and then was forcing your head back up, "Wanted you inside of me, touched myself thinking about, oh my god, Finn, please I can't it's too much, wanna cum when you're inside me.”

He was quiet for a second before sighing, “When you beg like that how am I supposed to refuse you anything? Just because my sweet girl just got back to me and must be being so brave, using her words like that. But you're not getting out of it next time, honey." Finnick removed his hand and you let out an involuntary whine.

"Thank you, Finn.” You said breathily as he finally lined himself up with your entrance. “Already so close."

“So needy." He clicked his tongue as he started pushing into you, you clawed into his back. “Jump." You obeyed and he hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his waist. Trying not to hit at his back when caused more of him to push in, but you couldn't stop yourself from the scream you let out when he carefully pushed your back against the shower wall and he bottomed out in you. “So tight, this pussy was made for me, feels so good." He groaned, “Can I move?"

“Please, you're so deep in me, feels so good. Wanna be yours, Finn, want you to do what you want with me." His face planted itself in between your neck and shoulder and you could feel him smiling into your skin.

“You're so sweet, honey." Then he was moving again and you were instantly crying out, “Everyone's gonna find us if you keep this up, know you're mine now." At your insistence he let himself be fast, pound in and out of you as you tightened around him.

Finnick moved a hand up to protect your head as he thrusted recklessly into you. It felt like an eternity of his perfect noises and seeing stars with each movement, you were so grateful that it was your cunt making him groan like that, that he wanted to be inside of you. “Oh my god, Finn, I'm gonna come."

“Good girl, come undone on my cock, sweet girl. Wanna look at your pretty face when you let go for me.” You could've sworn that you'd left the planet when he brought you past the edge. He must have felt it too because your ecstasy doubled when you felt him releasing inside of you, how full you were of him.

You don't know how long you stayed like that, listening to each other's breathing, but nothing had ever felt so perfect. “They're gonna wonder what happened to us." You eventually let out a breathy laugh and he nodded into your shoulder. He tapped your leg and you unhooked them from around his waist. Feet falling onto the cold tiles below.

“Good, I've got to make up for lost time." He kissed your forehead before finally pulling out of you and you hated how empty you felt without him. Finnick pressed his forehead against yours and you watched the steam from the water gather around him, “I should've told you sooner, if you hadn't been okay and here with me again, I don't know if I could've lived with myself knowing you never knew I loved you." And the way he kissed you sealed your fate, you would forever be making up for the times that neither of you confessed to how hopelessly you adored each other and you would relish every moment of it.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading! I'm going to try and get chapter two of the river out before I do the next request, working on scheduling these each out! if you enjoyed it feedback is always appreciated, comments, likes, reblogs, and my asks/requests are open! thank you again and love you all 💋

taglist: @wowzabowza69

[mysticalgothcookiesoul]

Whilst Eurylochus isn't as faultless as my baby Polites, doesn't mean everything was his fault. Did he open the wind bag? Yes, yes, he did. Did that directly lead to poseidon killing of the crew? No, it didn't. Poseidon would have taken revenge on Odysseus and his crew either way, not just because they were pushed further away from Ithaca. As observed in the snippet of 'get in the water', we've seen that poseidon is more than capable of appearing anywhere in the ocean. Ergo, he was going to kill them all anyway, Eurylochus just spiced things up by changing the location they died. Furthermore, he wasn't wrong to mutiny against Odysseus, and realistically, he wasn't the one fully at fault for zeus and 'thunder bringer'. Now, I'm not saying he's faultless because most of the blame definitely falls onto him. What I am saying is that he was tired and hungry, and he'd given up. Think about it, he'd probably not eaten in days if he stopped off at the first island he came across and killed the sun God's cows. He'd just mutinied against his captain, his friend. Suddenly, the lives of all the crew rest souly on his shoulders. And he's just so tired. Tired of Odysseus ignoring his concerns, tired of seeing his friends and comrades die, tired of seeing Odysseus change for the worst and tired of being hungry. He wasn't in the right state of mind, he'd completely given up by the second half of 'mutiny'. During 'thunder bringer' he doesn't sound angry or even very betrayed. He just sounds apathetic, he's entirely given up at this point. He wants it all to end, and I can't say I blame him. What I'm saying is that, in this situation, would anyone have done anything different? With several gods already looming over you, wishing for your destruction, being so tired and so hungry, and having seen so many of your friends die would anyone really have left those cows?

Tldr; Eurylochus isn't entirely at fault, nobody is entirely at fault. All the actions taken are understandable. They are just humans and they make mistakes.

[yandere-daydreams]

omg i hope all goes well with your kidneys!!! sending well-wishes 😭💗

as for miguel thirsts: mentions of dubcon, noncon, edging, overstimulation, abnormal uses of webbing, fangs, and venom, vague kidnapping reference(?)

1) him going after an anomaly! darling, and instead of doing the usual ‘catch and release’ back to their original world, he just .. keeps them at hq. initially it’s just for observation, but over time he just gets closer and closer (“for research!” he tells himself), and one day, he finds himself moving their cell into his monitor room (“for observation!” he tells himself). so far, he’s been able to keep the fact that he jerks himself off to their presence quiet. he just doesn’t know how long it’ll take for him to want more.

2) i’m also thinking of some kinda predator/prey dynamic where there’s a chase scene where it does end up with him tackling darling down to the ground (he does put his hand around their head so they aren’t concussed when their body hits the ground <з). he accidentally does the knee thing and then just rolls with it, and that’s what kickstarts the fucking. is very much so like “why are you squirming?” while Very Much Knowing what he’s doing.

(he does probably put his fangs around their neck at some point just bc i think that’s super hot of him to do.)

^ also may i please add - edging while you’re paralyzed where he does the whole “i’m not hearing you say please” and is just edging for hours on end, or the same concept but with dubcon overstimulation, “i’m not hearing you say stop” while giving you the nth orgasm of the night and tears roll down your cheeks.)

3) the third thirst of him that’s been bouncing around my head like a horny version of the window’s screensaver is essentially the noncon hate-fucking version of #2; you’re fighting about something ultimately unimportant, and at some point it transitions from just slinging words to each other to physical fighting [yes he does chokeslam you against a wall a la train scene] and now you’ve got nowhere to run (maybe somehow webbing got involved and you’re stuck to the wall, essentially at his mercy)

tw - spiderverse spoilers, non///con, imprisonment, obsessive behavior.

sjkfdsjsdkfdklfj combining all of these in my head for a scenario wherein miguel captures an anomaly who, while not dangerous enough to be locked away indefinitely, isn't the kind of upstanding citizen who'd be sent home immediately. you don't manage to hurt him, but you waste enough of his time to earn a second glance every time he passes your holographic cell, a nearly imperceptible half-smirk every time he gets a chance to push your name just a little further down their ever-growing list. eventually, after some 'if you like the new anomaly so much why don't you marry them'-esque probing from lyla, your containment chamber is moved into his personal lab, and y'know, exposure breeds familiarity, familiarity breeds affection, and affection for someone like miguel breeds obsession, whether or not you see him as anything but the creepy, cyber-punk spiderman who likes to leer outside of your cell for a few minutes every day.

so, when there's a minute-long power outage and you get a chance to put as much distance as you can between you and the man that doesn't know you've seen him palming himself through his suit outside your cell when he thought you were asleep, you take it. of course, miguel's on you in a second and of course, it only takes him a few minutes to chase you into the unpopulated sub-levels of his spider society, to dig his teeth into your neck and leave you paralyzed but very awake and very aware that you're at his mercy. it was a mistake to get his adrenaline going, to spark his aggression then try to smother it before he's really had a chance to burn. you should be thankful that he uses his webbing to bind your hands rather than breaking your wrists, that he only wraps your fist around your neck rather than crushing your windpipe underneath his heel, that he chooses to edge you on until you're begging him to fuck you as roughly as he's been dying to for weeks. when he's done, you don't get taken back to his lab, but to his claustrophobic apartment, and you aren't put back into a cell, but into a collar - to stop you from glitching without letting you so much as hope that you'll ever be able to leave his dimension.

without letting you hope you'll ever be able to leave him.

[centrally-unplanned]

We have results of the "Denver Basic Income Project" targeted at homeless groups in the region, which from their lens must be quite disappointing:

Groups A and B are the experimental groups, receiving $1k a month for a year or the same amount as a lump sum. Group C got $50 a month, a "compliance" payment to make sure they show up for data collection essentially. Hilariously, the website is pretending Group C is not a control group, since they got the pennies they dug out of the sofa cushion, and saying this is all a success!

"Statistically significant across all groups" this is a hate crime against data science. But it is so laughable that it isn't really worth getting into; what else can you say?

More substantially, what you are observing in this data is that the homelessness population is a little bit bimodal between the chronic and the temporary. Not fully ofc, but it's normally evident in the data - the median person is homeless for ~12 months, but ~1/3rd are chronically homeless while another ~1/3rd are generally only homeless for a few months, and then the rest bleed out in the middle. With no UBI the results above are what you would expect - half the group found income sources, found housing, and returned to being poor-but-housed, that is the default. For the other group, homelessness is a combination of the "willing" homeless and the structurally excluded, from drug problems to actively violent behavior to track records of similar that disqualify them as too high risk, or those who simply loathe all bureaucratic systems and refuse to comply (mood).

$1000 a month is pretty substantial, you aren't realistically going to have UBI higher than that. And it is not like recipients were excluded from SNAP/food stamps or anything. Giving radically more could maybe shift things, sure, but I think you are seeing close to the "cap" here on what you can realistically shift with lump sums.

For a certain kind of UBI proponent I could see this being a failure, like "oh why did money not fix this". I sort of view it as the opposite? Why would I expect money to fix this in that way? UBI is a consumption subsidy, the entire point is that it's no-strings. If people want to spend their consumption differently than I would expect, good for them? UBI is about broad based income support; it is not targeted at specific social ills by design. I think it can have structural changes in the economy - UBI permanently shifts bargaining power between workers & employers a bit for example - but I wouldn't expect it to say close the educational achievement gap outside of marginally.

I do think this should be a check on a sort of naive "poverty" lens for social ills; ~50% of homelessness is about money churn. This paper actually does a bad job of showing that, because it tracks everyone at "time zero" when they are all homeless. If you look at other studies where housed and unhoused alike get UBI, you see that they are less likely to become homeless to begin with. And it is just one study of course - additionally 2021-2022 was a bad year for housing as temporary Covid eviction & rent control measures expired, and this pilot started in 2022, while meanwhile it was a *really* good time for the poor-but-working income-wise as low-end wages increased dramatically, so it was a big dip combined with big churn in the poverty rates. Still, with all those caveats poverty is probably not the lodestone for that other ~50%. If you want to address those social ills you are going to need more involved social programs - or be a libertarian about it and let them do as they wish. Your call, as long as the limits of "throw money" at a problem is understood.

[kissagii]

it's finals season, and nishinoya desperately needs a savior

cw: gender neutral reader, 2k words, reader is a bit of a nerd and noya is smitten, both are a little dense, i didn't proofread this nearly enough.

Nishinoya Yuu cannot fail high school. At least, not if he wants to go to the Tokyo training camp and meet the funny guys from Nekoma again. As it stands, the only obstacles between Noya and going to camp are the steadily approaching final exams - exams that he hasn’t spent nearly enough time studying for.

That’s how he found himself here: not-so-casually asking (read: begging) for help studying.

“But I can’t fail these exams!” He half-yells, smacking his hands dramatically onto your desk, “I’m too cool to fail! And I want to go to camp!”

You sigh, not thrilled to have the libero drawing so much attention to you, especially in the middle of the school day. But his pleas are pitiful - and bound to get annoying if left unanswered for too long - so your only real option is to offer whatever assistance he needs.

“Sure, I’ve got time, what do you need?” You offer, hoping desperately that you sound relatively nonchalant. You had grown fond of him as first-year classmates, and now being in separate classes made any opportunity to spend time with him one worth taking. Even if it ended in studying with Nishinoya Yuu, a man not exactly known for being studious. Loudness aside, he's a good guy: caring (at times overbearingly so), observant (but never when he needs to be), and unendingly passionate about his interests (and very little else). And undeniably attractive, though you’d never tell him that. It would go straight to his head.

His face lights up as soon as the offer is made. “You’re amazing! An angel sent from the heavens to help me go to camp!”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, now what subjects are giving you the most trouble?” You say, heart fluttering at the subtle words of appreciation. 

“Math. And physics, but that’s basically just math but more evil. Oh, and English. And history. And writing.” His expression shifts from joy to a pout with each subject, brows knitting together as he realizes just how inept (and uncool, he’s probably thinking) he is.

“Noya, you just listed every subject, that’s way too much,” You laugh, “But I’ll see what I can do. Give me a day to prepare?”

“Just try not to miss me too much!” Noya says as he jumps excitedly, waving to you as he walks backward out of the room. He waves the entire way until he walks back-first into the doorframe, letting out a squawk of surprise and continuing proudly like nothing ever happened.

This boy is going to be the death of you.

Exactly 24 hours after his first visit, Noya bounds into your classroom and over to your desk again. Despite expecting his visit this time, you’re caught off guard by his punctuality and higher-than-usual energy. 

“It is I, Nishinoya Yuu, Guardian Deity of Karasuno!” He announces, dropping into a neighboring desk.

“Yeah, I know that, Noya.”

“Hmph, but it’s more fun to do that,” He huffs, poking at the papers you have lined up on your desk, “What’s all this? For me?”

You stack up all the papers, creating a thick packet, and hand them to him. He loses interest the moment he realizes that the ridiculous-looking stack is indeed for him, mortified by the concept of having to do all of that. He pays minimal attention as you explain everything he’s supposed to do - something about the order of the subjects versus the tests, the problem difficulties, and suggested pacing - instead choosing to focus on something far more interesting. 

The way certain subjects make your eyes light up more than others. The way you tilt your body to face him as you talk. The way your lips move with each word. How much he wishes he could grab your face and kiss you.

And, ultimately, that which brings his attention back - the reward system. Your method of motivating him to put effort into his practice.

“The rewards are indicated with symbols, the key is at the back, and you don’t have to take any reward you don’t want. I’ll be here to check your work and help you with the harder ones, does that sound good? Oh, and no getting answers from your teammates. You’ll only get prizes for your own work.” 

“All this? really? These rewards better be good,” He sticks out his bottom lip, thumbing the papers, itching to flip straight to the back and see what he might have a chance at acquiring. 

You laugh, shooing him out of the chair he sits in, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ll like one or two of them. Now go get working, deal with your prizes when you have an actual chance at earning them.”

“Hey! At least let me try to get motivated!” He whines, making a point to struggle to carry the twenty-or-so pages in his hands, “I might never forgive you for this!”

Though he acts offended, the moment he’s out of your sight his posture straightens and he hurries to his classroom. Only there does he set down the papers and fumble to the back, finding the Prize Key at the very end.

♤ - 1 sticker (assorted themes)

Who do you think he is? A first grader? Though he has to admit, the concept is cute.

♧ - Snack coupon

Now this, this is good - he could use them to barter with the team… if he could convince himself to not hoard them.

♢ - 10 minutes letting you show off at practice

Finally, you’ll come through on your promise of visiting him at practice!!

☆ - Bento Box

So you had been paying attention to how he always ogled your food during lunch hour. Oh, Tanaka is gonna be so jealous.

♡ - Kiss

He rereads the single word again. And again. He blows away nonexistent eraser shards; wipes the paper with his sleeve; traces his finger over the word. And still, there it is, inked directly onto the paper, completely intentional. Kiss.

Frantically he flipped through the packet, searching for the problem sets marked with a heart. Just what would he have to do to earn the sweetness of your lips against his? He’d do just about anything, really, he’d craved your affection since midway through first year.

Nishinoya Yuu would do anything to kiss you just once - even a physics problem so brutal even the most genius of his classmates might shy away from it.

“Ok, fess up, which one of you gave Noya answers to his study work?!” You shout, storming into Karasuno’s volleyball gym as the team begins their practice. The underclassmen’s confused stares hardly dent your frustration with the team and whichever of them was insolent enough to go directly against your request.

Ennoshita winces, smiling bashfully. “Well… I didn’t help him, exactly. He just told me to check his work and it was right, I didn’t give away any answers.”

Noya smiles proudly from across the gymnasium, “See! I’m perfectly capable of doing physics on my own!”

“Suga? Daichi? Is this true?” You ask, turning to the reliable third-years on the team, who you’re sure were there to witness Noya’s breakthrough.

“Mhm,” Suga nods, “And he went skipping to first period like a little girl.”

“I do not skip!” Noya insists.

The first years giggle amongst themselves, clearly amused by the dispute. Though, in their shoes, you probably would’ve laughed too.

“No, you were skipping,” Daichi adds bluntly. Noya’s jaw drops, insulted.

“I do not- Oh, fine, whatever, maybe I skipped a little. But see, I didn’t get answers from anyone, I solved the problem by myself! So therefore I deserve my reward!”

So maybe he did solve the problem on his own. So maybe he did spend all night working on that one near-impossible problem just to get the reward. So maybe he does want to kiss you.

“Alright, alright, I accept it, you solved the problem yourself. Good job. Call me when you’re done with practice, you’ll get your reward then.” You say resignedly, turning to leave the club room.

“No, don’t make me wait so long! I gave you the problem at lunch, you’re so mean to me!” Noya calls after you.

As you leave, a redheaded first-year (Hintata, if you correctly remembered Noya's ramblings about his teammates) whispers to you: “I think he’s in love with you.”

Thank the heavens that your back was turned, because your flustered expression would’ve made your crush on the libero painfully obvious to all in the room. 

But oh how you hoped that first year was right.

Only minutes after the end of practice, Noya found you behind the gymnasium. Still sweaty and haphazardly changed, he jogged to you excitedly. 

“I’m here now! Now don’t tell me I sat on the sidelines through morning practice for nothing, Daichi was ready to kill me,” He said, breathing slightly heavier than usual but still energetic.

“Have you just been pretending to be stupid this whole time?” You ask, “I spent days making that problem for a different study group, days, doing everything I could to make it impossible. I gave it to you as a joke, more than anything, I didn’t think you’d actually solve it.” 

Noya inhales sharply, looking down to the ground. “So, the part about… the kiss… was that a joke too?” He begins stepping back, feeling a fool for getting his hopes up so high. Frustrated and confused, he begins running his mouth like he always does, muttering about being a fool, being hopeless, the evilness of your schemes, and having wasted his energy and time in search of something he would never get.

“Noya, shut up,” You say, but he pays you no mind. “Yuu!” 

The one lesson he needs to learn is how to quiet down, and you know he won’t learn it on his own. You grab him by the cheeks and pull his lips to yours, cutting him off mid-sentence, kissing him right there behind the gymnasium as night descends upon the city. When you part he remains speechless, cocoa-brown eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

“It was a joke because I didn’t think you’d want it,” You murmur, letting a hand slide into his sweaty but somehow still soft hair. “If I had known this was what you wanted I would’ve let you kiss me as many times as you wanted.” 

Noya leans into your hand, as if making sure that you’re actually there, actually touching him. Gently you bring your foreheads to touch, a silent reminder that you are indeed real. “You're more than just a friend to me, Yuu, and in every moment that you’re silent I’ll remind you.”

“Ehehe, guess I’ll just never speak again,” He laughs cheekily, stealing another kiss, quick and playful. 

You pull back, but don’t move your hand away. What an idiot, snapping from speechless to silly in such a quick moment, and absolutely desperate for affection to boot. And yet this dramatic idiot had you absolutely smitten and wanting to kiss him over and over until evening turned to night turned to morning.

“You didn’t earn that one, Yuu! I guess I’ll have to cut your showoff time rewards by half,” You tease, poking the tip of his nose with your finger. It’s a ridiculous facade on your part - he’d never have to earn a kiss from you, just ask and you’d gladly give it to him. But the way his face twisted yet again, horrified by your mock threat, was too cute to pass up.

“Half?!” He scoffs, “I guess I’ll have to be extra flashy for my sunshine!” 

“Sunshine? Since when am I your sunshine?”

“I dunno, since now? Come on, it’s cute!”

Sunshine it is, then. Though if either of the two of you is the sunshine, you’re sure it must be him, because his giddy grin is easily the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life.

:)

[puppetmaster13u]

Can't stop thinking about This prompt/au lol

I almost like to think that Clockwork kind of half-sent Danny to the ghost-world version of Gotham because he was struggling and is honestly just a kid and could use some guidance. And with how the Observants dislike him to the point of murder, CW sure couldn't keep him in Long Now. But Gotham? Now there's a place that not many go, thanks to curses running amok, a very dangerous City Spirit, and amalgamations of fallen Guardians and Rogues. It's chaotic, dangerous, and a hell of a shot, but the Bat could, and most probably would assist the newborn guardian. The living world and the infinite are intertwined after all, influenced by whatever realm it drifts closest to.

Thankfully Danny seems to be enjoying himself- he has a proper ghost friend now! And he's starting to be able to understand Batblob's cacophony of Silent-EverSilent-Gurgles-DistantWhispers-QuietScreamsSilence easier too without Robin translating. (His Ghost-Speak is getting so good :D) He wishes he could bring Sam & Tucker but it's a little too far into the ghost zone. And the ghosts and Vlad doesn't bother him here! (The last time he tried, unknown to Danny, the older halfa was met with a malicious swarm of teeth and maws ready to rip and tear and not lose another child again-) He's even gotten shown the exits to the living-world's Gotham. Robin likes to ramble about the new and different living-robins and about their friend who was also a robin and who disappeared one day and whose core they carry on their belt. Maybe he can help them find out what happened to him...

[djarindroid]

The Morning After

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: A soft morning after yours and Daryl's first night together. (I wasn't specific with what era this was set in, but I was picturing early Alexandria)

Warnings:  hints at sex but nothing explicit

Word Count: 941

You awoke slowly, the morning light barely peeking through a crack in your curtains. The warmth surrounding you made you want to nuzzle further into your bed and sleep the day away. Though as your mind began to slowly wake, you began to remember the events of last night. 

How you and Daryl had fallen into your bed wrapped in each other's arms. How tenderly he’d kissed you as you both removed the other's clothes. How you felt the rest of the world slip away, the only thing that had mattered was you and Daryl. 

It dawned on you that the soft warmth surrounding you was because you were still tangled in Daryl’s arms, laying on top of him with your head resting on his chest. A quiet stillness filled the room, as the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you created a soothing rhythm lulling you into a sense of calm. 

You began to drift peacefully back to sleep, moving yourself to curl further into Daryl’s body. As you shifted your body your eyes shot open with the realisation of just how much of your weight was draped across Daryl. You didn’t want to disturb him, but you also didn’t want him to be uncomfortable beneath you. Slowly and carefully you began to try and move to his side without waking him, though the second you shifted, his arms tightened slightly around you. 

‘Stay,’ he mumbled quietly, causing his chest to rumble beneath your cheek. You glanced up at him, his eyes had remained closed and if you hadn’t heard him just speak you’d think he was still in a deep sleep.

‘I’m staying, just moving off you,’ you tried to explain as you once again began to move your body. Only for Daryl to wrap his strong arms tighter around you, keeping you in place flush against him.

‘Quit moving, ‘s comfy,’ he grumbled. 

‘Daryl let me off, I’m crushing you,’ you laughed lightly as you pushed at his chest. Half attempting to get off of him, though your resolve was slowly fading. 

‘Ya ain’t crushing me, besides there’d be worse ways to die,’ he joked back as he opened one eye to peer down at you. A smirk spread across his face as he watched you give in and settle back on him. Daryl’s half opened-eye watched as your fingers traced a light path across his chest.

You took a moment to glance up at him, his eye closed once again. This was probably the most calm you’d ever seen him, with slight indents left across his cheek from the way he had laid on the pillow. You admired the way his soft hair surrounded his head, with a few strands cascading over his eyes. 

Without a second thought you tenderly reached up to sweep the fallen strands of hair away from his face. The sensation of your hand softly brushing his cheek caused him to hum contentedly and lean into your warm palm.

‘How’d ya sleep?’ He murmured, voice still raspy with sleep, you couldn’t help but smile at the sound. 

‘Really good,’ you answered truthfully. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d woken up and actually felt rested. ‘You?’ 

‘Good. Better,’ he huffed out, wearing a subtle grin on his face. He found it soothing having you here in his arms, feeling truly content for the first time. 

‘Better?’ You questioned, confusion flickering across your eyes at his wording. You tilted your head to observe his face, hoping you’d be able to read what he was thinking. 

‘Mmhmm,’ he nodded, as he finally opened both eyes to look down at you. ‘Got to wake up with you in ma arms,’ he stated so confidently you couldn’t help but blush. You tried to look away, attempting to hide your face in his chest, only for him to cup your cheek, keeping your eyes on his. ‘Wish I could wake up like this every day,’ he admitted in a whisper whilst he slowly leaned down. 

His lips met yours gently. There was no urgency behind his actions, he was kissing you simply because he wanted to. You reciprocated, smiling into the kiss. You couldn’t quite believe how lucky you were right now. Daryl Dixon was here in your bed, kissing you and telling you everything you’d dreamed of hearing. It was such a perfect moment.

Daryl’s words echoed around your head as you continued the languid kiss. Waking up to this everyday sounded like something you could definitely get used to. He pulled away slightly. His hand began absent mindlessly tracing patterns across your bare skin as he asked, ‘ya got anywhere to be today?’ 

You shook your head no as you gazed into his eyes. ‘Do you?’ You asked, silently hoping he didn’t, wanting to drag this perfect moment out for as long as you could. 

‘Nah,’ he replied as he fully rested back onto your pillow, pulling you closer in his embrace once again. You sighed contentedly, your body instantly settling against his once again. The room fell into a comfortable silence once more, broken only by the sound of bird songs from outside. 

Daryl continued to lazily draw patterns across your skin, causing you to feel a gentle pull towards the arms of sleep. You allowed your eyes to flutter closed, the rhythmic beat of Daryl’s heart beneath your ear created a lullaby. Clearly Daryl shared your desire for more rest and whispered in a drowsy voice ‘let’s jus’ stay here a while.’ Succumbing to his suggestion you quietly slipped back to sleep, with the promise of waking up to a loving embrace.

[ninjatrashpanda]

The Other Shoe (Waiting for it to drop)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round 2! Today's prompt is "Coming Out Scenes!"

Read it on AO3 here.

“I, uh, I think it’s time to face the music,” Buck whispered, tugging on Tommy’s sleeve. His eyes wandered over to his parents, who had watched him and Tommy like hawks throughout the entire reception, though Buck had a hard time predicting what they were thinking. On one hand, therapy had been going well, and while The Buckleys would probably never be the big happy family Buck had wished for as a kid, Mom and Dad were trying. They had been nothing but supportive about him being Connor and Kameron’s sperm donor last year, and Buck would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt a pang of appreciation when they had stood up for him against Chimney’s father and stepmother.

On the other hand, well, these were his parents, and old fears die hard. While they had apologized for how they had treated him and Maddie and become better, there was a little voice at the back of his head that told him they’d just be disappointed again. The fact that his mother hadn’t managed to get rid of the bewildered look on her face since he had dragged Tommy into Chimney’s hospital room didn’t help.

“Should I be scared?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Buck chuckled, though it sounded more like a nervous exhale. He stole another glance at his parents, then shifted his gaze to the floor, kicking at an imaginary speck of dust. “Nah,” he said, though he admittedly wasn’t even able to convince himself of that. “Not scared. Just... prepared.”

Tommy followed Buck’s gaze across the room, where Buck’s parents stood stiffly by a wall, half-empty champagne flutes clutched tightly in their hands. Buck knew they had been mingling just a few minutes ago, but he still couldn’t help but feel that they looked, well, out of place. While they were nothing but polite, they didn’t really mesh with anyone else, and always seemed a little awkward.

“They don’t seem like they bite,” Tommy observed, in that casual, dry tone Buck had grown to appreciate over the past few weeks. In an instant, a part of his anxiety evaporated and bubbled to the surface in a barely held back snort.

“Not literally, no.” Buck ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head, the slight smile Tommy had brought to his face staying on his face. “It’s just... history, you know? They’re trying, and I get that, I do. But sometimes it’s like...” He trailed off with a shrug, struggling to find the right words. “It’s like I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Tommy nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze Buck’s. Buck had told him the basics, how Maddie had practically raised him, how their parents had been neglectful and controlling. He vaguely knew about Daniel, too, though Buck hadn’t delved into the whole Savior Baby thing yet. The subject was…touchy, to say the least, and while he knew he had to breach it at some point, he wanted Tommy to have as neutral an opinion on his parents as possible. They were putting in the effort, so Buck figured they deserved that much.

“Well,” Tommy said, squeezing Buck’s hand again, a bit firmer this time, “if things get weird, you’ve got me for backup. Just say the word, and I’ll distract them with my fake mouth static.”

Buck couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh at that, which surprised even himself. Tommy had a knack for diffusing tension, and Buck was grateful for it. It was one of the reasons he had gravitated toward him in the first place. He tightened his grip on Tommy’s hand, drawing strength from the contact, before letting go and straightening up.

“Good idea. You’re renowned for your fake mouth static after all.”

“Damn right I am.”

They stood there for a moment, neither quite willing to take the first step towards the inevitable conversation. The reception was starting to wind down, (because the nurses were kicking people out now) so at least if this developed into a scene, not too many people would end up seeing. Chimney, now recovering well after the whole viral encephalitis debacle, was in high spirits, chatting animatedly with Hen and Karen. Maddie was close by his side, smiling brighter than he had ever seen, seemingly refusing to let go of her new husband’s arm.

The love between them gave Buck a tiny surge of courage. If Maddie and Chimney could find happiness after everything they had been through, then maybe things could work out with his and Maddie’s parents too.

“Alright,” Buck said, straightening his posture, bracing himself for impact. “Let’s do this.”

They crossed the room together, Tommy a step behind Buck, offering silent support. Buck’s parents straightened as he approached, their faces neutral masks. They clearly didn’t know how to react, and Buck could hardly blame them for that.

“Hi,” Buck said, forcing a smile. “You probably have a few questions.”

His mother’s eyes softened, but there was still a glimmer of uncertainty in them. His father cleared his throat, his grip on the champagne flute tightening just slightly. The atmosphere was stiff, and the air felt thick enough to cut it with a knife.

“Hi, Buck,” his mother replied, her voice wavering just a bit. Buck was actually (positively) surprised that she used his nickname, though he had to admit it sounded almost foreign in her voice. “Yes, we, uh…” She glanced at his father, who nodded, urging her to continue. “We do have some questions, but—”

“We don’t want to push,” his father interjected, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “We’re just… trying to understand.”

Buck nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. They weren’t throwing accusations and bad faith arguments around, so that was a good start. Still, Buck knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet. He hadn’t spoken about the big B yet, after all.

“Yeah,” Buck said, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit he hadn’t quite outgrown. “I figured. And, uh, it’s okay to ask. I know this is… a lot.”

He could see the moment his mother tried to put on a brave face, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We were surprised, that’s all,” she said. “When you came into the room with…”

She trailed off, her eyes moving over Buck’s shoulder to where he knew Tommy stood just a foot or two behind him. He took a deep breath. This was it. No going back. He had thought about it for weeks at this point, had said it out loud to himself in the mirror, but not to anybody else, not even Maddie or Tommy.

“Tommy.” He turned slightly, reaching out his hand out to Tommy, who took it into his own with a smile as he stepped up. “Mom, Dad, this is Tommy Kinard. He’s my date. He, uh… he’s the reason I figured out that I’m bisexual.”

The words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. Buck could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears almost deafening. He knew this moment was pivotal (one of the most important in his life, probably) and the weight of it pressed down on him like the world on Atlas’ shoulders.

His parents exchanged glances, and Buck could see an onslaught of emotions flitting across their faces: surprise, confusion, and perhaps a flicker of something that could be hope. His mother’s fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flute, and his father took a small step closer to her.

Tommy, for his part, stayed by Buck’s side, his presence a quiet but powerful anchor. He gave Buck’s hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that he was here, and that he wouldn’t leave. Buck was grateful for that; it reminded him that no matter what was going to happen, he wasn’t alone.

His mother was the first to speak. “Bisexual,” she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. Her brow furrowed slightly, but there was no trace of anger or disappointment in her tone. Instead, she seemed...curious. “I…well, I didn’t expect that.”

Buck could see his father’s jaw tighten momentarily before he let out a slow breath. “Buck,” he began, his voice careful, deliberate. “This is…this is a lot to take in. But I want you to know that we’re listening. We’re trying to understand.”

Buck nodded. This wasn’t a rejection, not outright. But it wasn’t exactly acceptance either, not yet, at least. Still, it was something, and in this moment, something was better than nothing.

“I know it’s a lot,” Buck said, his voice quieter now. “And I don’t expect you to get it all at once. I only figured it out a few weeks ago, too. I just wanted you to know, because…because it’s who I am. And Tommy… he’s important to me.”

His mother’s eyes softened at that, and Buck could see her shifting, recalibrating her thoughts, trying to process this new piece of information about her son. “Tommy,” she said, as if tasting the name for the first time. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and there was something in her gaze that was almost…gentle. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy.”

Tommy smiled, his usual confidence replaced by an almost shy nervousness. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Buckley. And Mr. Buckley,” he added, nodding respectfully toward Buck’s father.

Buck’s father gave a small nod in return, though his expression remained unreadable. “Tommy,” he repeated, his voice a bit more measured. “You’re… Buck’s boyfriend?”

Buck sucked in a sharp breath. Obviously that question would come up. He should’ve been prepared for it, but he wasn’t. He and Tommy hadn’t even really had that conversation. He’d certainly like for Tommy to be his boyfriend, he just wasn’t sure if Tommy was at that point yet. It had only been a few weeks after all. They had been on four dates, one of which was a complete disaster, and another that hadn’t even been a date at first, but an apology for the date that had been a complete disaster.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, his tone steady. “I’m his boyfriend. And I know this might be surprising, but Evan…he means a lot to me. I care about him.”

Buck’s breath hitched in his throat. He hadn’t expected Tommy to say it outright. He had expected a lighthearted “Not yet” or “We’re seeing each other.” That he’d gone right ahead… Buck’s heart swelled just a little bit. He squeezed Tommy’s hand a little tighter, grateful beyond words. Tommy’s answer made Buck just a little braver.

Finally, his mother spoke again. “I…I see,” she said, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. She looked at Buck, her eyes searching his, as if trying to reconcile the son she knew with these new things she was learning about him. “And you… you’re happy?”

Buck felt a lump rise in his throat. It was such a simple question, but it carried so much baggage. She wasn’t asking if he was happy with Tommy. She was asking if he was happy with himself, something that would’ve been absolutely unthinkable just three years ago.

“I am,” Buck replied, his voice growing more assured. “I’m happy, Mom. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

His mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision within herself. She reached out then, tentatively, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she placed it on Buck’s arm. “That’s all we want, Buck,” she whispered, her voice wavering a little. “We just want you to be happy.”

His father, who had been silent for most of the exchange, cleared his throat again. “It’s…a lot to adjust to,” he admitted, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But if this is who you are, and if this man makes you happy, then…well, we’ll do our best to understand.”

Buck felt a surge of relief wash over him, so powerful that it nearly knocked him off his feet. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was something. Something good. It was yet another step toward healing their relationship, and for that, he was grateful.

“Thank you,” Buck said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for not, like, freaking out.”

His father gave a small nod, and his mother’s hand tightened on his arm, a silent reassurance that they were, in fact, trying. Tommy smiled and wrapped his arm around Buck’s shoulders, Buck leaning into his side almost automatically, enjoying the warmth of their connection.

His mother glanced over at Tommy, her expression softening further. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner before we fly back to Hershey, Tommy,” she said, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “We’d like to get to know you better.”

Tommy’s eyes widened at the invitation, and Buck didn’t blame him. It was already unusual that Tommy had met his parents this early, but getting invited to family dinner? That was big. “I’d love to, Mrs. Buckley. Thank you.”

Buck’s father gave a curt nod, not quite ready to add anything further, but his stance had relaxed just a little. There was still a long way to go, a lot of conversations to be had, but in that moment, Buck knew they were moving in the right direction.

As the reception continued to wind down, Buck stood there with Tommy by his side, his parents before him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a cautious sense of optimism. The journey ahead would be challenging, there was no doubt about that, but they were all still here, still trying, and that was more than Buck could have hoped for when he first approached them.

As they exchanged a few more words, lighter now, less fraught with tension, Buck realized that this was what he had been waiting for all along. Not just acceptance, but the willingness to grow, to move forward together. And maybe that was enough to help the wounds of the past heal.

[magnuscomedybracket]

FINAL ROUND

087 Uncanny Valley vs. 034 Anatomy Class

Propaganda under the cut!

087 Uncanny Valley

Guy cleans out flesh from a drain without a blink and nikola has to invite him back again with Jude because he wasn’t scared enough the first time because of obliviousness

Besides the obvious bit of Guy who Doesn’t Realize He’s In A Horror Story, imagine this from Nikolas perspective. Like “oh shit lol this guys name is “skinner” I’m gonna mess with him for shits and giggles… Ok he didn’t notice any of my spooky bullshit, wild! I threatened to butcher him and he was Not Paying Attention! Jude! Hey! Come check out this idiot man!”. Also implication that Jude and nikola hang out being shitty together. I support women’s wrongs.

"Megan" tries to expose this guy to The Horrors and he's so focused on his job that he just doesn't notice. She's so shocked by this that she calls him back and still has to literally force him to notice

The world's most oblivious plumber somehow doesn't notice all the creepy stuff going on and just does his job like normal. It only gets funnier when you consider it from the Stranger avatar's point of view.

Nikola Orsinov trying so hard to scare the least observant man you've ever seen. Whispering in his ear about flencing while he hums noncommittally and pulls a wad of meat from the drain of her spooky factory in the middle of fuck-all nowhere and then he just gives her the invoice and walks out??? Like it's a normal job? And when she calls him to come back the next day she has to dress up in a clown costume to get his attention and grab his head to make him look at The Atrocities that he just entirely missed the day before. I love Sebastian Skinner so much and I wish only the best for him

#I really just want to point out that they're trying to scare a plumber. #A plumber!! #do you think this is the first time this man has had to clean skin and hair out of a drain? #do you think he's never seen blood before? #like yeah it's objectively funny from the Horror's point of views but for him? It's a tuesday #Like that isn't even the weirdest thing he's seen that week #'oh they threatened to butcher him' yeah? what makes them special? #this guy probably deals with 20 different avatars a week by necessity #no amount of 'his name is skinner let's fuck with him' is going to be worse than service work in people's homes (via @/childoferebus)

#the only reason we know what's happening for half the episode is taht we know this is an horror story #and how things usually go. #dude spends half the episode going 'just a normal job. #house in the middle of nwohere. weird smells and textures #*shrugs* just anotehr day on the job* (via @/monstersqueen)

034 Anatomy Class

The delivery. The teacher going crazy because students asking questions.

#fear beings who want to know more about the human body and decide to go to college about it (via @/the-goose-caboose)

#all those “students” had like. sneak 100 surely their behavior was completely unsuspicious lmao #and at the end theyre genuinely just like “hey thanks for teaching us about the insides” and the teacher's just completely traumatized (via @/silverywillowtree)

[dystopicjumpsuit]

No Sleep Till Coruscant

A/N: Written for the lovely @kimiheartblade. You know what you did 💙💙💙

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader (reader has insomnia and hair that is long enough to pin up)

Rating: M (minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3k (Look, this was supposed to be 500 words. I had to stop somewhere. If people enjoy it, I’ll write another chapter.)

Warnings and tags: fluff; a little awkwardness/secondhand embarrassment; bumps up against consent issues due to power dynamics (Rex is the ranking officer, but the reader makes the first move and definitely wants this); SMUT with feelings; hair touching; talk of masturbation; heavy petting; suggestive dialogue; Rex touches the reader’s neck and throat, but there is no choking

Summary: You can’t sleep. You ask Rex to help you relax.

Suggested listening:

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“Can’t sleep?” The deep, familiar voice rumbled close to your ear, and you knew without looking who it belonged to. He may have shared a voice with millions of other clones, but his was the only one that made your skin prickle with awareness.

You tore your eyes away from the Venator viewport as your captain stepped up next to you. You hadn’t even heard his approach, and his ability to move in total stealth while wearing half his body weight in armor and kama never failed to amaze you. His dark eyes traced your features a little too observantly, and you shook your head without speaking, turning back to the viewport and hoping he hadn’t been able to read your expression too closely.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

“No more than usual,” you replied with a shrug. “I’ve never been very good at sleeping.”

“I guess we all have our faults,” he smiled. “I was wondering what yours was.”

“I suppose there are worse fatal flaws than insomnia.”

His lips quirked in a tiny smile, and he turned toward the viewport to gaze with you at the hypnotic blue swirl of hyperspace. After a few moments, he spoke again, quietly.

“Probably easier to fall asleep if you’re actually in your bunk instead of standing on the bridge hours after your shift ends.”

“Probably,” you acknowledged.

“Do I have to make it an order?”

You smiled. “I wish it were that easy. You could just comm me before bed every night and order me to go to sleep, and I’d have no choice but to comply. Insomnia cured by the power of the legendary Captain Rex.”

He turned his head minutely, and even without seeing it, you could feel his scrutiny. “Worth a try. Come on. I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

It wasn’t a request, so you fell into step next to him as the two of you proceeded down the silent halls of the Venator. You didn’t speak at first, content to walk with him in companionable silence. The majority of the ship was on sleep cycle, and the few troopers you passed merely nodded and continued about their business.

“What’s your excuse—”

“Got plans for shore—”

You and Rex spoke at the same moment, then stopped abruptly with quiet laughs.

“After you, Captain,” you said.

“Just wondering if you had plans when we get back to Coruscant for shore leave,” he said.

“Probably going to lie awake and wish I could sleep for most of it,” you admitted. “You?”

“I don’t think you quite grasp the ‘rest’ half of R & R,” he observed.

“Right, because you’re one to talk, Captain ‘Duty Never Sleeps,’” you teased.

“I never said that,” Rex objected.

“But you’re probably saving it to drop on the next batch of shinies they bring us, aren’t you?” 

His chuckle was so quiet you barely heard it. “What were you going to ask?”

“I was just curious what your excuse was for being awake in the middle of the sleep cycle,” you said.

“Duty never sleeps,” he said solemnly.

“I walked right into that, didn't I?” you laughed, allowing yourself the tiny indulgence of nudging him with your shoulder. Not that it did you any good; you couldn't even feel him beneath the cold plastoid armor, and all you got for your effort was a sore shoulder. 

Far too quickly, you reached your quarters, pausing outside the door. You didn't want to go inside, if you were honest with yourself. There was nothing in that room except an empty bed and four empty, gray walls that stared back at you through every endless, agonizing hour that you lay awake. Rex, too, seemed unsure of what to do now that you'd reached your destination. He fidgeted subtly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked on impulse. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you hastened to add, “For safety, you know. If you order me to go to sleep, and it actually works, it would probably be best if I'm close to the bunk. That way I don't fall and hit my head or something…”

You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“Good point,” he said, his eyes flicking almost imperceptibly down to your lips. “Wouldn't want to have a medical emergency.”

“Kix would never forgive us for the extra paperwork,” you agreed, keying in your door code and motioning him into the room.

As the door slid shut behind you, Rex asked, “Speaking of Kix, have you talked to him about your trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah. He gave me some pills that made me wake up in the morning with no memory of walking to the mess hall and making a grilled cheese sandwich while the cooking droid yelled at me for entering a restricted zone. I never bothered to try them again.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Rex said dryly. “How was the sandwich?”

“Apparently I threw it in the trash without tasting it. Damned waste of cheese, if you ask me.”

“If it was GAR cheese, you did the galaxy a service,” he said.

“When can I expect my commendation?” you asked.

“Best I can do is a heartfelt thank you.”

Your eyes crinkled with amusement, and Rex smiled, looking rather adorably pleased with himself at having made you laugh. You scrambled for a clever reply, but nothing came to mind, and the silence stretched out until it became awkward. 

At last, you managed, “I'd offer you a seat, but the only option is the bunk.”

Rex looked away. “I should probably go, anyway. Will you be able to sleep?”

Suddenly possessed by unprecedented audacity, you murmured, “If I say no, will you sing me a lullaby?”

Rex drew in a quiet breath and stepped closer to you. “How often is it like this for you? How often do you lie awake, tossing and turning?”

“Every night,” you confessed.

“And what do you usually do when you can't sleep?” Something shifted in his tone, his words coming out low and husky.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your dry lips, and this time, there was no mistaking the way his eyes dropped to your mouth.

“I—I'm not sure I should say,” you rasped.

He dragged his gaze away from your lips at last, looking up into your eyes. “You can trust me.”

“I know.”

“Then… Will you tell me?” he asked.

“Sometimes, I take matters into my own hands.”

His eyes locked with yours, his gaze sharp and intense. “You…”

You nodded. “Sometimes it works.”

“When was the last time it worked?” His words were quiet and rough, his eyes dark as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“Last night,” you admitted breathlessly. “Probably why there's no way I'll be able to sleep tonight.”

“What did you do?” he whispered.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, you began, “If I describe it to you, will you—”

His eyes widened as you paused, tongue-tied. “Do you want me to… Touch you? The way you tell me?”

You nodded, your entire body feeling like it was aflame. Hearing him put it so bluntly, you understood the magnitude of your suggestion. This was such a mistake. What was I thinking?! Asking a superior officer to—to—Asking Rex—Rex! Of all people—to touch me like that! I must finally be losing my mind.

Before you could backpedal, though, he slowly pulled off his gloves and dropped them on your nightstand. Your breath shuddered to a halt as you realized you'd never seen his hands without gloves before. In fact, this was the most exposed you'd ever seen the captain: helmet and gloves removed, yet still covered in armor. You felt like a swooning maiden in some overwrought period holodrama, having a fit of the vapours at the tiniest sliver of skin.

“How did you start?” he asked, stepping forward into your space. 

Force, has he always been this big? You felt acutely conscious of the bulk of his armor, his pauldrons so broad that it seemed like all you could see was white and blue plastoid. When you met his eyes, though, you saw something else: a searing heat that burned away all your doubts—a hunger that made your blood race in your veins.

“I started with my hair,” you replied, your voice noticeably hoarse.

He moved slowly and very deliberately, raising his hand to the back of your head. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin as he carefully and meticulously removed every single pin holding your hair in its tidy, regulation bun. You felt your hair loosen as he pulled them out one at a time, making sure not to drop any, and when he finished, he set them in a neat pile next to his gloves on your nightstand. 

He threaded his fingers into your hair, combing out the remnants of your bun, until your hair tumbled freely down around your face. He touched the locks gently, not tugging on them in the slightest: simply feeling the texture and brushing them softly out of your eyes.

“What did you do next?” he asked in a low voice.

“I touched my face. My cheeks,” you whispered, “and my lips.”

He tucked your hair back carefully before his fingers grazed your skin. The first brush of skin on skin was electric, and you stifled a gasp. His thumb traced the line of your cheekbone as his fingertips curved under your jaw. His touch was light and gentle, his hand blissfully warm in contrast with the cool, recycled air of the starship, and you swayed slightly closer to him, leaning your face into the sensation.

He trailed his thumb down the line of your cheek until he reached the corner of your mouth. Your breath sped up slightly as you felt the calloused pad of his thumb brush over your lips, followed by two of his fingertips.

“Your lips are so soft,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on your mouth.

You brushed your tongue lightly across his fingertips, tempting him to slide them deeper between your lips. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped them into your mouth as you swirled your tongue over them. He rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning softly over your skin. He raised his other hand to caress your cheek, his gaze fixed on you with an expression of pure fascination.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and traced them over your lips once again. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead, he took a ragged, shuddering breath and spoke again.

“Keep going. Describe it to me. What next?”

“Next—” the word was inaudible, and you paused to search for your voice. “Next, I touched my throat. Softly. And very slowly.”

The warmth of his fingers as they traversed the short distance from your jaw to the collar of your uniform sent shivers racing across your skin.

“May I?” he asked as he reached the opening of your collar.

You nodded your permission, and he unzipped your jacket with his other hand, the pressure of his knuckles barely palpable on your torso as they descended the line of the zipper. Instead of immediately tugging off the garment, though, he simply continued to stroke and caress your neck, drawing his fingers down from the corner of your jaw to the notch above your sternum.

“After that, I… I traced my collarbones,” you whispered.

His fingers slid beneath your uniform to run along the ridge of your clavicle as his thumb rested against the base of your throat.

“What did that feel like?” he asked quietly.

You shuddered. “Good. It felt… good. But not as good as when you do it.”

At last he slid the jacket off your shoulders, leaving you in only your camisole. His eyes flickered down to your chest, and he swallowed audibly as he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. “What did you do after that?”

“I brushed my fingertips down the center of my chest,” you murmured. “Between my breasts, but I didn’t touch them yet.”

His lips curved into a small smile as his fingers followed the line of your sternum until they reached the silky fabric of your camisole.

“Is this regulation?” he asked in a lightly teasing tone.

“No,” you admitted. “Are you going to write me up?”

“I’m sure the general would be very interested in how exactly I knew that your underwear was out of reg,” he said with a quiet huff of laughter. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,” you replied, somehow managing to keep your voice from betraying the fact that you thought you might actually die if he stopped touching you now.

Is it possible to die of frustrated lust? GAR lieutenant investigates. More at eleven.

Rex dipped his fingers lower, beneath the satin camisole, as his thumb traced over the plush swell of your breast. 

“Is this how you touched yourself?” His voice was low and gravelly, with no trace of laughter lingering in it.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Just like that.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he must be able to feel it as he trailed his hands over your soft, delicate skin. His eyes were fixed on your body, pupils dilated wide with arousal.

“And what did you do next?”

“I think you can guess,” you replied, heat rising in your face.

He leaned close and whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending a wave of tingles down your spine. “Indulge me.”

You inhaled sharply. “Next… Next I touched my breasts—I cupped them in my hands and played with them.”

Rex froze. His hand stilled, resting against your sternum. Even his breath paused momentarily. He whispered your name, his lips barely brushing the silky skin of your neck.

“Rex,” you murmured in a low, husky tone. “Touch me.”

He dropped his head lower, his lips almost making contact with your shoulder, but he hovered a breath away from you. Both of his hands settled on your ribcage and slid up beneath your breasts, tracing your contours, before finally cupping your breasts through your camisole, squeezing you gently, capturing your nipples between his fingers and teasing them until they were stiff and aching with pleasure.

“Like this?” he asked, his harsh whisper hot against your skin.

You arched up, desperate to feel his mouth on your body, but he held that tiny distance between the two of you. “God, yes, just like that.”

He slid his hand down your abdomen until he reached your hip. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your camisole to tease the soft skin of your belly, and then curled beneath your waistband as he dragged his knuckles over your hip.

“What were you thinking about when you touched yourself here?” 

You dropped your head to his shoulder, burying your face against his neck, not wanting him to see the truth in your eyes.

“Tell me,” he said. His voice was soft, but every instinct you possessed screamed to obey his command.

“You.” 

The word was quiet—barely a breath—but you might as well have screamed it. Rex’s reaction was immediate and overwhelming. The hand that still held your breast released you, and his arm clamped around your body. His fingers tightened on your waistband and pulled you hard against him as he finally, finally kissed you. Lips, tongue, teeth descended on your shoulder, worked up your neck and across your jaw, leaving a trail of heated sensation in his wake.

When he reached your lips, he devoured you with all the passion he’d been holding back with such meticulous self-control. His kiss was everything you’d imagined for months. It swept over you like a wave, scattering your thoughts and making your head spin as his tongue slipped between your parted lips. He released your waistband and glided his hand beneath your camisole, up your bare abdomen, to palm your naked breast as he kissed and kissed and kissed you, until there was only one coherent thought in your mind: Is this really happening?

You clung to him, fingers gripping plastoid. You’d wanted Rex for so long, and now that you had him, it almost didn’t feel real. The thought galvanized you. You broke away just long enough to yank the camisole off over your head, dropping it to lie in a crumpled heap on the floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back into your kiss. His armor bit uncomfortably into your exposed skin, but you didn’t care; you were practically climbing him, frantic for contact.

“Wait,” he rasped. 

“Seriously?!”

He laughed at your impatience. “Seriously. I haven’t waited all this time to rush it now.”

Your breath caught at the implication: he’d wanted this just as much as you had. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked pointedly.

“You’re my captain—” you began.

“And you’re my lieutenant,” he replied.

Ah. Solid point.

“You’ve—you’ve been waiting for me to make the first move?” you asked. “This whole time?”

“Since the minute you came aboard.”

“Damn,” you said, struck. “Are you sure I should be working in intelligence? I completely missed the signs.”

“In fairness, stealth is one one of—”

You cut him off abruptly with a kiss. You slid your hands over the back of his head, stroking the soft, velvety, close-cropped blond hair. His groan of pleasure rumbled against your lips, sending a jolt of arousal through your entire body.

“Captain?” you whispered.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he murmured, nuzzling your face gently.

“Permission to remove your armor, sir?”

“Kriff, don’t call me that,” he begged. “But also yes. Please.”

You went to work quickly, helping him unbuckle and strip off the heavy plastoid.

“Not a fan of being called ‘sir’ in the bedroom?” you asked curiously.

“Just don’t need to be reminded that we’re breaking about forty-two regulations right now.”

You shot him a look brimming with mischief. “We’re going to break a lot more before we get to Coruscant.”

[lilynotdilly]

Swagger

I haven't seen anyone strutting round Manc like this for ages, then I saw one- parka, swinging arms, feet turned out… I figured pre army Ghost was probably a swagger boy…

"Smile love" Simon tells Johnny as he poses with the statue of Emmeline Pankhurst in St Peters Square. Johnny hops onto her chair beside her, slings his arm over her shoulder, and leans in to snog the lady for the camera.

"Jesus wept, you fuckin’ mutt! Are you trying to set feminism back half a century? Mrs Pankhurst was the leading figure in womens suffrage, and certainly deserves better than being pawed by a grubby mitted Glaswegian like you!"

"Sorry Mrs P"

Johnny climbs down, a little shamefaced, and poses like a normal person for a holiday snap. "Where to next, babe?" He asks as he slips his hand into Simons. They start wandering towards Oxford Street. 

"Almost everything happened on this road Johnny" Simon starts pontificating. 

"Workers rights, Pankhurst, Rutherford's first nuclear reaction, Turing's computers. Even Noel Gallagher got his first guitar on this street."

Johnny rolls his eyes. "I thought this trip was gonna be more about you, Simon. Not you tryin’ out for the Manchester Tourist Board…”

“...Had my first blowjob at Jilly's Rock World...” Simon points down to his left. “Got me first tattoo, bit further down…”

"Tha's more like it!" Johnny grins. "Any more filthy Riley history you wish to share?"

"...Saw my first porno down there. Dad snuck us into t'mucky picture house." A sly smirk crosses Simons face, as a memory of seventies porn and salt and vinegar crisps flashed by.

"Fuck-ola! It really does all happen on this street!" Laughs Johnny. "I think I'm gonna need a sit down if it's gonna continue in such an ungodly manner!"  He wafts himself like Victorian woman having a fit of the vapours.

Simon pulls Johnny's hand and leads him across the road, and down Lower Moseley Street. "You're in luck then babe. I thought we'd go to the Britons for a drink. It's the pub I went to for some Dutch courage before I enlisted. It's got over 300 different whiskeys! I thought it'd be right up your street!"

As they walk past the Bridgewater Hall, it's clear Simon is in his element. His gait has changed, it's looser, somehow baggy with a pronounced bounce in his step. By the time they can see the Britons Protection, his shoulders are rolling, his arms are swinging and he's walking crotch first!

Johnny drops his hand, and observes this strange phenomenon that's taken over his boyfriend. "You OK babe?" He asks.

"Yeah, course" 

"Are your trews riding up?" 

"Wha'?"

"Your undercrackers giving you trouble?"

"The fuck you on about Johnny?"

Johnny cocks his head, like a golden retriever, as if he's trying to make sense of Simon's strange behaviour. "It's just that you're walking like someone is dragging you by your dick!"

You can take the lad out of Manchester, but you can't take the Manc swagger out of the lad!

Animation- Mancunian by Nat Wood