#i love how almost all of these are from the bridge collapse

[chaoticbug]

Rewatching 911 and keeping track of all the near death experiences

[jesuistrestriste]

art is the MESSIEST kisser ever like if u make out his spit is literally everywhere. like he'll kiss u on the mouth then keep on kissing ur neck but w the wettest kisses ever. and i JUST KNOW he def drools. like when u give him head and his head is resting against a pillow, he's so lost in it that he can't even think. like the only thing he can do anymore is whimper and moan like a little bitch. and when u look at him u see him drooling all over the pillow😭

art donaldson has a messy mouth. he drools when it feels too good, he kisses with almost too much tongue when he's desperate, and his warm, eager lips are always on your skin whenever he gets a chance to touch you properly.

he practically salivates like a thirsty puppy on a hot day. it pools under his tongue whenever he catches a glimpse of the more intimate areas of your soft skin; the nape of your neck, your stomach, your inner thighs. and he has to try desperately to swallow it down when you two are in public and he can't get his lips on you.

the first time you and art made out, it was very sloppy. you thought this mightve been a result of minor inexperience on his part, or nervousness, or excitement, so you let it happen. you let him moan into your open mouth and grab at your shirt while he slid his pink tongue over yours. you let his sticky saliva mix with yours as your mouths mashed together. you let him kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until he came in his pants.

the whole ordeal lasted about 7 minutes.

after that, you had assumed that—in time—he'd get more reserved with his mouth as you two continued to be intimate.

but this didn't happen.

if anything, he only got more comfortable with you, and thus only became more orally-fixated and messy with his mouth.

he liked to suck on your fingers during sex.

he liked to slather your arousal with his spit when he went down on you.

he liked to kiss you wetly all over your body before bed.

he liked yearned for it all.

when you'd give him head, your slick lips bobbing over his tip and swallowing salty dribbles of precome, he'd drool all over whatever was near his mouth. it was just too hard to focus on not drooling when the warmth of your tongue got him close so fast. his eyes would get lidded and his knees would grow weak and his mind would turn to mush the second you started to blow him. sometimes you'd have to hold his hips to keep him steady. he was very predictable.

one thing you two like to do together is have art get on all fours on the bed, knees spread apart with his cock hard and hanging between his thighs. his hands will go up and squeeze onto the pillows as he lowers his head and lets you jerk him off.

it’s kinda demeaning, in a way; being milked like a cow.

but you like doing it to him, and he likes whatever you like, so he loves this.

when your hand starts to stroke his cock, strings of pre leaking from his slit, his arms will usually start to shake. it'll start at his shoulders, and then go down to his elbows, and then end when his wrists can't hold him up anymore. he'll let himself collapse down onto the cushions without more than a whine of protest and a renewed tint of pink across the bridge of his nose. his head will lay on one side of his face, his lips parted to let out whimpers and whines as his hips jolt, and then it’ll start.

he’ll drool.

all over.

down the side of his face, over his bottom lip, down his chin. it all happens depending on how his head is positioned. but he always, always, always slobbers on the pillow a little.

just as his eyes start to roll back, and his pelvis starts to shallowly move to thrust his cock into your moving grasp, his sweet and sticky saliva will dribble down his face someway and soak into the pillowcase.

he can't help it.

because, again, you make it hard to pay attention to anything other than how good you make his dick feel. it throbs in your hand.

when you catch a glimpse of his drooling, you usually smile and speed up your touch.

"Art, baby-" you'll coo to him, "drooling."

and he'll know right away what you mean.

"Anghh— feel s'good, s'good— 'm sorry, 'm sorry," he'll inevitably slur.

he'll try to wipe it with the back of his hand, but he's usually shaking too much for that to do much of anything. it more just smears the transparent fluid across his flushed face.

slurp. wipe. whimper.

a few more strokes of your hand, and a thumb pressed right under his cockhead, is all he needs to let go after that point.

his eyes will roll back as he cries out and bucks into your fist, shooting and coating the bedding underneath with his load. he'll tremble and whine until his hands grasping at the sheets below have the instinct to fly between his legs and stop the overstimulation. you generally let up soon after he makes that known.

after you clean him up and ease him into bed, he'll make sure to kiss you goodnight. and it's messy and needy and a little bit too much, but you let him do it anyways. he's eager to please, and he's eager to show you how much he appreciates the way you take care of him. he’s just eager.

maybe one day you'll get sick of how much tongue he uses when he kisses, but you doubt it. it’s just so perfectly him.

[leclerc-hs]

do i wanna know? - cl16

pairing: brother'sbff!charles x gasly!reader summary: in which you consider vacation with your family and brothers friends torture OR you fuck your brother's bff on his yacht warnings: 18+, smut under the cut, badly translated French (pls correct me!), NOT PROOFREAD (if there’s mistakes let me know please!!!!) word count: 3.5k author's note: had so much fun writing this honestly. could honestly picture myself writing more about brother's bff charles. I feel like sneaking around is sooooo fun and makes it hotter. LOL. let me know your thoughts!!! xoxo love u all. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

IT HAS BEEN one week of pure torture. At least, that’s how you explained it as you texted your best friend. To which she responded, ‘torture and vacation don’t belong in the same sentence’.

You rolled your eyes, a wry smile playing on your lips as you contemplated her obliviousness. If only she knew! A full week spent in Charles’ company – scratch that – a mostly shirtless Charles, had left your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, unable to find their way back to coherence. 

“How could you be so stupid! Idiota!” You could hear the constant whining of your mother echoing in your ears, emanating from the dinette area of the yacht. Her complaints were like a relentless assault on your sun-kissed skin. Although “sun-kissed” was an understatement; you were borderline burned but would never dare to admit it.

“Maman, je vais bien!” I’m fine! You retorted, your voice carrying a hint of exasperation. With a sigh, you made your way back towards the bow of the yacht, where a stretch of sunbeds awaited you. Oh, thank heavens. There was absolutely no way you were returning home from this vacation without a good tan. Of course, you applied sunscreen diligently, but the sun was relentless out on the open water.

You collapsed onto the sunbed, feeling the plush cushion yield beneath the weight of your body. The sunglasses perched precariously on the bridge of your nose teetered for a moment before nearly tumbling off, saved only by a quick adjustment of your hand.

For a few moments, it was just you. You and the sun. You and the gentle breeze caressing your heated skin. You and the soothing sound of the calm waters, a tranquil melody that enveloped you in serenity. You were at peace. 

The bliss of solitude didn’t last long as you felt a shadow descend upon your body, as if a cloud had suddenly blocked out the sun.

“Mon ange, you are burned.”

Your eyes were shut behind the dark sunglasses, but you didn’t need to open them to know that voice. The voice sent a cascade of butterflies fluttering in your stomach almost instantly. Despite the burn creeping on your cheeks from the sun, a telltale blush threatened to give away the sudden rush of emotions stirring within you.

Slipping the sunglasses up onto your head, using them as a makeshift headband, allowing your eyes to connect with a mesmerizing shade of green. In that moment, time seemed to freeze as you were ensnared by the profound depth of those affectionate, verdant eyes. Green—the color that stirs a vibrant vitality within you, invoking a sense of renewal and energy. Their gaze penetrated your soul, igniting a whirlwind of emotions that swept through you like a gentle breeze through a lush, verdant meadow.

You observed as his gaze transversed your form, starting from your eyes, then descending along the curve of your nose, down to the graceful line of your neck and the delicate contours of your collarbones. His eyes lingered on your breasts for a fraction longer than usual, sending a tingle of awareness coursing through you, before swiftly returning to meet your gaze once more. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, hinting at a silent understanding or amusement.

As his gaze roamed over every curve of your body, you found yourself doing the same, unable to resist his magnetic pull. You seized the chance to drink in the sight of his shirtless body in that fleeting moment. Each droplet of water adhered to his bronzed skin like liquid diamonds, emphasizing every sinew and contour of his body. As he shook his head, droplets cascaded from his tousled locks, creating a mesmerizing dance as they landed on your burning skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. His hand moved through his hair in a fleeting gesture, as if trying to tame the wild strands, adding an irresistible allure to the scene before you.

“Elle est stupide.” 

It was as if a bucket of ice was dumped onto your body.

That voice, on the other hand, snapped you right out of the moment, your head whipping in the direction of your brother’s voice. With narrowed eyes and a quick motion, you lifted your middle finger in his direction, breaking the spell of the moment with a playful gesture of annoyance.

“Don’t be an ass, Pierre.” You mumbled softly before sitting up fully, feeling Charles drop down onto the vacant spot beside you. He turned onto his side, resting one arm under his head as he looked at you and your brother bicker. A smile tugged on his lips.

“I’m going to get the sun-tan lotion,” Your brother tossed a towel onto the other vacant spot, before retreating to wherever the lotion was. “Some of us aren’t complete morons.”

“Mon dieu,” In frustration, you grumbled to yourself before flipping over onto your stomach, burying your head into the crevice of your elbows. Your face pressed into the cushion of the sunbed as you sought solace from the annoyance. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Toujours là,” Still here. Charles whispered softly as he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against the nape of your neck as his finger delicately grazed the curve of your lower back, tracing intricate patterns with feather-light touches. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, a subtle reminder of his presence even though you couldn’t see him. You could almost sense the heat of his gaze penetrating the miniscule fabric tied to your body, leaving an indelible mark on your skin.

You turned your head to face him, still resting on your arms under you. A smirk, that never seemed to leave his face while in your presence, was still pulled onto his lips.

“Tu as l’air bien aujourd’hui.” You look good today.

“Aujourd’hui?” Today?

He nodded slowly, his fingers trailing up your spine until they reached the ties of your string bikini on your back. With a delicate touch, he toyed with the knotted bow, teasingly.

“Et les autres jours?” What about other days?

He rolled his eyes in a playful manner, clicking his tongue to make a ‘tsk’ sound in jest. “Tu es toujours belle.” You’re always beautiful.

He pulled his hands from your warmed skin, just in time for your brother to return, bottles of sun lotion in hand. He tossed one to Charles while demanding you to put some on.

“Putain, j’ai oublié mon telephone,” Fuck, I forgot my phone. And your brother was out of sight yet again.

“Charlie?” You put on your sweetest voice. “Voudrais-tu mettre la lotion?” Will you put the lotion on?

It was an excuse. An excuse to have his hands on you again. Not that you needed an excuse, he wanted to touch you just as badly.

He didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he silently applied the sun-tan lotion to your back, spreading it across different areas with careful strokes of his hands as he leaned over your frame, before gently placing his hands back on you.

His fingers slid across your back in slow movements, as if he wanted to remember what every inch of your skin felt like against his hands. His hands dipped down to your butt, barely covered by the bikini that adorned your body, kneading his fingers into the uncovered skin.

He sucked in a breath as you let out a soft moan from the feeling of his hands on you. The feeling of his hands massaging you.

Soft “oh’s” and “mm’s” escaped from your lips, stirring something deep within Charles. He could feel his self-control slipping away with each little sound you made, intensifying his desire with every breath you took.

He dropped a little pat to your butt, signaling that he was done, with a small cough. All you did was flip over, chest now in front of his direct line of eyesight and waited until he realized what you wanted.

“My front side needs some, no?” You could’ve sworn you heard a groan slip past his lips.

His hands slowly but surely made way back to your skin, trailing along your ribs as he made sure to miss not one inch of your skin with the lotion. His touch was tender, yet purposeful, as he ignited a trail of sensation wherever his fingers grazed. It was as if your skin was itching for more of him, while his fingers burned to touch every inch he could.

And although the air was hot, and the sun was beating down on you both. Your nipples pebbled beneath the thin fabric of your swimsuit, no doubt obvious to Charles, as if you were freezing.

“I’m done,” His voice dropped an octave, but his hands didn’t leave your skin. No, instead he carried his fingers to the small triangles of your white bikini top, daring his thumbs to trace over your pebbled nipples. You ached.

It wasn’t until Pierre reappeared that Charles abruptly withdrew his hands from you, swiftly dropping onto his back on the sunbed and feigning nonchalance as if his hands weren’t just groping you. 

-

“Lando!” you shrieked; your body slung over his shoulder as his arms held onto the back of your thighs firmly. “Pose-moi! Put me down!”

He twirled in circles on the back deck, his movements reckless, bringing him dangerously close to the edge of the water. With a mix of playful exasperation and genuine concern, your arms smacked his back, the impact echoing a mix of amusement and anxiety in the salty air.

“Put you down?” His voice carried a mischievous tone, a hint of devilry hidden. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could practically feel the schemes brewing in his mind, a silent promise of further antics.

“Don’t you da-” Before you could complete your sentence, the momentum carried both you and Lando overboard, plunging into the refreshing embrace of the water. As you emerged, laughter bubbled up, mingling with the gentle lapping of waves against the boat’s hull. With a mischievous grin, you scooped water in your hands, splashing it at Lando’s face, eliciting playful protests and further laughter as he grabbed for your body, pulling you flush against him.

“You still got a thing for him?” Lando’s eyes darted over your shoulder, towards the boat, where an unnoticed Charles was already gazing in your direction, his head cocked as if he was mildly confused and annoyed. Unaware of his presence, you rested your head in the crevice of Lando’s neck, the both of you continuing to frolic in the water, oblivious to the silent exchange occurring just beyond your awareness. 

You nodded your head once against his skin, a silent acknowledgment, before lifting it to meet his gaze. In his eyes, you saw a glint of mischief. “What?”

“Should we make him jealous?” His whispered into your ear, keeping your back to the boat, as his eyes stayed locked on whatever was behind you.

You shook your head, “He wouldn’t care.” 

“Does him not caring include him looking at me like he’ll strangle me with his bare hands?” He brought his eyes back to you, one arm settling on the back of your neck as your legs wrapped around him. 

“Pierre would kill you if he saw us right now.”

He tilted his head back slightly, his laughter resonating between you, causing his bodies to shake with shared amusement. “Pierre is the least of my worries, you muppet,” he chuckled, the sound rich and warm against the backdrop of the lapping waves. His fingers danced through the strands of your wet hair, his voice gentle and comforting. “Just follow my lead, yeah?” His voice carried a hint of excitement, igniting a spark of anticipation within you as you nodded.

-

When Lando claimed Pierre was the least of his worries, you couldn’t help but wonder how true that statement was. Still, you admired his determination not to let Pierre’s presence hinder his plans. There was a sense of resilience in him, a refusal to be shackled, and you found yourself drawn to that strength of character.

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” What’s going on? Pierre pulled you to the side, his tone hushed. “Toi et Lando, c’est sérieux?” Are you and Lando a thing?

You’re not sure what had him questioning you. Maybe it was you wrapped around his body in the water earlier, or the food sharing at lunch, or the inside jokes and laughter on the sunbed together. Whichever it was, he couldn’t sit back without questions.

“Non, mais ça ne te regarde pas si c’était le cas.” No, but it’s not your business if it were. There was a subtle edge in your tone as you purposefully distanced yourself from Pierre, a flicker of defiance in your step as you strode back towards Lando on the sunbed.

“I think he’s coming over here now,” Lando whispered into the shell of your ear. “You know what to do?” He pushed himself up and off the sunbed before claiming aloud he needed some water.

And as if you wanted this your entire life, which you did, you knew exactly what to do. Charles was a few steps from entering the threshold of ‘close proximity’ when you flipped over to your stomach with a yawn.

“That was quick!” You remarked, your head turned, purposefully presenting your back to Charles once more. “Lan, will you untie the string on my back? I can’t reach it, and I don’t want the tan lines from it.” There was a sly undertone in your voice, far from innocent, as you heard a loud cough from behind you and sensed the shadow cast over your body, indicating Charles’ presence.

Although you feigned ignorance, the sensation of Charles’ hands brushing against the skin above the string tie was too distinct to be mistaken for anyone else’s. Each touch carried a familiarity that sent a shiver down your spine, a sensation that could never be replicated by another.

Charles pressed his knee into the cushion of the sunbed, slipping it between your legs as he leaned forward. His body loomed over yours, his fingers knuckles-deep into the cushion with your head nestled in between, effectively hunching over you in an intimate posture. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear.

“Let me be clear,” His voice was gruff.  “Ses mains ne te toucheront plus.” His hands will not touch you again.

You almost moaned at his words, but you had to stick to the plan. You turned your head just enough for your eyes to meet with his again. They were narrowed, and a much darker shade of green than earlier. 

“And why is that?” It was as if you wanted a death wish.

“Si tu veux que quelqu’un te touche,” If you want someone to touch you. He began, before pausing and trailing one finger down your spine and back up it until his fingers settled on the nape of your neck, “Tu me demandes.” You ask me.

And then he was up and out of sight, as if it was a figment of your imagination.

-

“Est-ce que j’ai dit que tu pouvais arrêter?” Did I say you could stop? He grunts harshly as his hips rut upwards into you, your walls fluttering around his cock so tightly. You couldn’t form words as a small whimper elicited past your lips. “Hm, mon ange?” 

Both of your arms are locked behind your back clenched in one of his tight fists. While his other hand grips your hip bone, controlling your movements. You were completely fucked out, your motions becoming lazy and lacking a pattern.

“C’mon fille douce,” Sweet girl. “Tu te sens tellement bien.” You feel so good. His words were edging you on, your pace increasing as you continued through the burn of your thighs working over his cock.

There was little to no room in the cramped cabin, leaving little room to maneuver, as your knees knocked into the side table earlier. The soft white comforter and few pillows that were once carefully arranged on the bed were haphazardly strewn about, adding to the sense of disorder. With only one light, casting a dim glow, the rest of the cabin remained cloaked in shadows, leaving the figure of him leaning against the makeshift ‘headboard’ which was little more than a wall, visible in the faint light. You could barely remember how you even got in this position. One moment, he was helping you find the spare cooler, the next your bikini bottoms were pushed aside as you straddled him.

“Think you’re so clever, hm?” He muttered, a grunt in between each thrust of his cock into you. “Lando?”

Your head lulled back, as Charles leaned forward to bring his teeth to your uncovered nipples, the triangles of your bikini top pushed to the sides, your breasts bouncing with each lift of your hips.

“It worked, didn’t it?” You smirked as he pulled his mouth off your nipples with a ‘pop’.

“Cherie, should’ve asked sooner.” He whispered, rolling you over so that you were beneath him now, pinned to the mattress. “Would’ve given you this sooner if you just asked.” 

His hand now covered your mouth, his fingers occasionally slipping inside of it to feel your tongue, attempting to muffle your small moans.

“Silence, mon ange.” 

You both could hear the rhythmic thumping of the music reverberating around the boat, blending with the sounds of laughter and occasional snippets of conversation. Amidst the vibrant ambiance, the occasional outburst of excitement or disagreement from a card game, worked in your favor of them not hearing you.

Your face was flushed red as he pinned you to the mattress, the slam of his hips filling the sound of the room. An occasional tear forming in your eye from the pleasure, from the need to come.

It was quick. One second his hips were slamming into you, the next they slowed, his head turned toward the door as if he could hear something you didn’t. Which he did. Footsteps.

“Charles? Are you down here?” There was a knock on the wooden door, the only boundary between the both of you and your brother. “Sais-tu où est ma sœur?” Do you know where my sister is?

And like the sick, twisted fuckhead Charles was, he continued rutting his hips into you. His pace much slower, but each stroke deeper, more precise. “Answer him,” His voice was so low, only you could hear him. You shook your head but look in his eyes was fierce as he cocked his head. You have no choice.

“I’m laying down,” Your voice quivered, as you tried to not moan in the middle of speaking. Charles dragged the pad of his tumb across his tongue, bringing it down to press against your already soaked clit. “I don’t feel well.” You heard the doorknob turn, but to your luck, it was locked. 

“Have you seen Charles?”

“Doing so well for me, Cherie.” Charles whispered into your ear, like he wanted to torture you. “Your sweet little pussy was made for me, hm?”

Yes. Yes it was made for you. Yes, you’ve seen Charles. His cock was inside of you now, his swim shorts weren’t even completely off, neither was yours. That’s how desperate you both were.

“Mon dieu,” You yelped before Charles hand slammed over your mouth in warning, before he flipped you over, your backside now facing him. “No! But if you find him, can you tell him I’m looking for him too?” You figured it was a sly move.

Charles leaned over your back as soon as Pierre’s steps retreated, peppering kisses to your spine, until his mouth was beside your ear. “Such a good girl, hm?” The drive of his hips was world-tilting.

“Squeezing me so tight,” He grunted. “Gonna give it to me?”

Your head nodded repeatedly, your body shaking, with each forceful drive of his hips into you. 

“Did you like that, hm?” He continued, “Almost getting caught with my cock deep inside of you?” You were losing your restraint, keeping your moans in was only getting more difficult.

You let out a whine as he continuously stroked your walls just right. You were too far gone to even announce that you were cumming. So, you came on his cock without a warning. But he could tell, just by the flutter of your walls around him and as your body collapsed face first into the mattress, as if you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your pussy gripped him tightly, and it was so warm, so gooey. “That’s it, mon ange.” He encouraged you as he pulled out, his own orgasm taking over him, releasing onto your backside, careful to not hit your bikini bottoms.

He fell beside you, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took as he met your eyes. “Mon dieu, we should’ve done that sooner.”

You let out a small laugh. Yes, you should’ve.

[nrhshm]

EKRKRK I LOVE YOUR WRITTING I was wondering if I could request an easily fatigued reader with smoker, mihawk and Shanks? Like they come got soaking wet and shivering from having to walk home in a storm and readers REALLY shy so they're like "no its fine I'm fine!" But then kinda get teary because they don't want to be a bother (sorry if that sounds weird but it's just something I would probably do😭) and just how they'd react? TYSM LOVE YOU‼️‼️

I tried to expand on three different reader personalities in each oneshot. So their reaction to each situation differs. Let me know what you think of it, anon!👋

And Shanks! Oh I went a different way with Shank's story🫡 but it was too good to change...

Smoker, Mihawk and Shanks with an easily fatigued/frail reader

who hates being a burden

---

. Sfw

. Mentions of kidnapping on Shank's part.

. Spoiler free

. Reader is g/n (female in Shanks's part)

---

Smoker

The storm outside was unrelenting, a cacophony of rain and wind battering against the tall office windows. Inside, the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a desk lamp, casting shadows that danced on the walls. Smoker sat at his desk, the air thick with the faint smell of his cigars.

Tick… tock…

His eyes drifted again to the clock on the wall, the hands creeping forward with a maddening slowness. It was 10:15, and you were late. Not just by a little. The patrol shift had ended at 9:30.

For any other soldier, it would have been a reprimand, a quick note in their file. But for some reason, the idea of something happening to you had twisted his gut into knots he’d rather not admit to anyone—especially himself.

He exhaled a stream of smoke, the ember on his cigar flaring briefly.

“Something’s not right,” he muttered, more to himself than to the empty room.

The storm wasn’t normal—not tonight. He’d seen sailors, seasoned and unshakable, hesitate at the thought of venturing into it. And yet, you were out there, alone.

Tick… tock…

The clock seemed to mock him, its endless rhythm a reminder of his helpless waiting. Finally, with a grunt of frustration, he stood, grabbing his coat. Enough was enough. He wasn’t going to sit here while the storm kept raging and the worst possibilities gnawed at his mind.

Just as he reached the door, it slammed open with a gust of wind and rain.

“Commander Smoker!” Your voice cut through the storm’s roar, sharp with urgency. You stepped in, water pooling at your feet as you stood at attention. “Apologies for the delay, sir! I—”

“Where the hell have you been?” His voice was sharp, though the edge softened almost immediately. His eyes swept over you, taking in the sodden uniform plastered to your skin, the way your hair stuck to your face, and the faint tremble in your shoulders. The reprimand he’d been planning caught in his throat. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, standing stiffly despite the rain dripping down your face. “The patrol was delayed because of the weather, and I lost track of time. I apologize for being late, sir. If I may, I’ll begin my report—”

“Forget the damn report!” His sudden outburst made you blink, startled. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re soaked to the bone, and all you care about is procedure?”

“I didn’t mean to worry you, sir,” you said, voice small but resolute. “It’s my responsibility to—”

“Enough.” His tone left no room for argument. Before you could react, he shrugged off his jacket and stepped forward, draping it over your shoulders. The fabric was warm, heavy with the faint scent of smoke and leather.

“Commander, I don’t—”

“Stop arguing,” he said firmly, towering over you. “You’re freezing, and I’m not about to have one of my soldiers collapse because they’re too stubborn to take care of themselves.”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and caught off guard by the unexpected gentleness in his voice. For a moment, you forgot how to speak, the weight of his concern settling heavily on your chest.

“I—thank you,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, his hand coming up to rest briefly on your shoulder, warm and steady. “You need to stop trying to do everything on your own. I’m your commander. You can rely on me.”

Your eyes dropped to the floor, your hands clutching the edges of the jacket tightly. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Idiot,” he muttered, though there was no heat in the word. His hand lingered a moment longer before he stepped back, giving you room to breathe. “You’re not a burden. Stop thinking like that.”

The warmth in his voice made your chest tighten, but you forced yourself to stand a little straighter. “Yes, sir.”

He looked at you for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders easing as he seemed to confirm for himself that you were truly okay. Then he turned toward the door, grabbing his hat.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “I’ll walk you home.”

Your breath caught, but you nodded quickly, following him into the storm. His presence beside you felt steady and grounding, his coat a shield against the chill.

If Smoker’s feelings lingered unspoken in the air between you, you didn’t notice. And if his hand hovered just a little closer to your back, ready to steady you against the wind, neither of you said a word.

Mihawk

The night was eerily quiet, the humandrills’ growls and the clang of steel against steel the only sounds cutting through the stillness. You moved as swiftly as your aching body allowed, haki crackling faintly in your strikes. Each movement grew heavier, your limbs protesting every swing. The creatures encircled you, their primal strength and cunning pushing you further to the edge.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your vision blurring, but you couldn’t stop—not now, not after today. Not when you had something to prove.

Then, in a moment too fast to process, one of them lunged. Its weapon glinted under the moonlight, and your sluggish body betrayed you. You braced for the impact.

A flash of black steel tore through the air, and the humandrill was gone, its companions scattering in panic. Yoru, the unmistakable black blade, stood lodged in the ground before you, humming faintly with power.

Your heart skipped. And then, he stepped into view.

Mihawk’s golden eyes pinned you where you stood—or tried to. Your legs gave out, and the ground rushed to meet you, but his hand shot out, steady and strong. His grip was firm as he caught you, holding you upright like you weighed nothing.

“You’ve lost your mind.” His tone was cold, sharp, and laced with irritation. His gaze swept over you, taking in the bruises, the blood, the shaking in your limbs. “What exactly were you thinking?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered stubbornly, trying to stand straight.

He raised a brow, his voice dropping into a dangerous calm. “Fine? You’re about to collapse.”

“I just wanted to—”

“To what?” he cut in, his voice harder now. “Get yourself killed? Or is this another one of your attempts to outrun Zoro?”

The mention of your rival made you stiffen, your jaw clenching. “I don’t need anyone’s help,” you snapped, though the words lacked conviction.

“And yet here I am,” he replied coolly, his eyes narrowing.

The heat of your embarrassment flared, but before you could argue further, your body betrayed you again. You stumbled, and his grip tightened, keeping you from hitting the ground.

“Enough of this nonsense.” His voice held no room for argument, his usual measured calm tinged with something firmer.

Before you could protest, he shifted, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. The motion startled you, your words catching in your throat as you stared up at him.

“What are you—?”

“Carrying you back,” he interrupted bluntly, his tone making it clear he wasn’t entertaining any more arguments.

You could only blink, too exhausted to resist. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes softened slightly as they flickered over your face. “You push yourself too far,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Strength without control is meaningless.”

You stayed silent, your pride too wounded to admit he was right.

As he carried you through the quiet forest, the weight of his presence felt grounding. You glanced at his face, searching for any sign of mockery, but found none. Just calm, focused intent.

When he reached the castle, Mihawk set you down carefully on a bench near the fire. His golden eyes met yours, steady and unyielding.

“You’ll never surpass anyone if you’re too broken to fight,” he said. His tone was flat, but there was something beneath it—a flicker of something softer. Concern, maybe.

You opened your mouth to reply, but he shook his head. “Rest. That’s an order.”

As he turned to leave, his words lingered, low and almost under his breath. “Don’t make me save you again.”

And then, like a shadow, he was gone.

Shanks

You had grown up surrounded by elegance, refinement, and rules. As the eldest daughter of the Alabasta royal family, your every move had been dictated by tradition. You were taught diplomacy, grace, and poise, but not how to wield a sword or navigate the rough-and-tumble life of a pirate crew. When your father announced your arranged marriage to the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, the Yonko, it had felt like a betrayal—a sacrifice made to secure an alliance between your kingdom and the pirate world.

And yet, you agreed. For your family. For your kingdom.

Weeks later, you found yourself aboard the Red Force, surrounded by rowdy, boisterous pirates whose laughter echoed into the sea. Shanks, your husband, was everything you hadn’t expected. Carefree, loud, and full of life, he was the polar opposite of the strict, composed men you had known.

He’d tease you gently, his easy grin always present, saying, “You’ve got to loosen up, princess. Life’s too short to keep your shoulders so stiff.”

But you couldn’t. The world he lived in was too foreign. You didn’t belong here. And worse, you felt like an outsider—a burden among warriors who risked their lives at every turn.

The breaking point came during a crew meeting. You’d overheard the others discussing their plans for the next mission: docking on a notoriously dangerous island to retrieve a devil fruit.

“She’ll slow us down,” one of the crew muttered, not unkindly but with a tone of concern.

“She’s not trained to fight,” another added.

“Beckman will stay with her,” Shanks said, his tone casual but decisive. “He’ll make sure she’s safe.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You knew Shanks meant well, but to assign his right-hand man to babysit you on such a critical mission? It was a slap to your pride. You weren’t some helpless child. You were the wife of a Yonko.

That night, as the crew prepared for the next day, you made your decision.

---

The dawn was still pale as you slipped away, knife concealed beneath your dress. The ship was quiet, the crew unaware as you stepped onto the dock and into the bustling village.

The plan was simple. You’d explore the island, avoid trouble, and return before anyone noticed. It wasn’t reckless—it was proof that you could handle yourself.

The market was lively, filled with colorful stalls and chattering villagers. For the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of independence. But as you wandered deeper into the streets, the vibrant atmosphere gave way to shadowy alleys and silence.

That’s when they approached.

At first, it was just one man, smiling too broadly. Then another. And another. Their words were slick, their laughter dark. Your heart pounded as they surrounded you, their intentions crystal clear.

“Such a delicate thing,” one said, brushing a hand against your arm. “What’s a lady like you doing here alone?”

You tried to pull away, but their grip tightened. A cloth was forced over your mouth, muffling your cries.

---

The air shifted.

It was subtle at first—a faint pressure that made the hairs on your neck stand on end. Then it hit like a tidal wave, an overwhelming presence that crushed the very air around you.

The men froze, their smug expressions dissolving into sheer terror.

At the mouth of the alley stood Shanks.

Gone was the carefree man who laughed too loudly and drank too much. His usual easy smile was replaced by a look so dark, so furious, it made your blood run cold. His eyes burned with unrelenting rage as they locked onto the man who dared touch you.

“You dare take my woman?” His voice was low, a growl that seemed to echo through the alley.

The thug didn’t have time to react. In a single, fluid motion, Shanks swung his sword, and the man’s hand hit the ground with a sickening thud.

The others tried to flee, but they didn’t stand a chance. Shanks didn’t even need to use his sword again—the sheer force of his haki dropped them one by one, their bodies crumpling to the ground.

When the last threat was dealt with, Shanks turned to you. The fury in his eyes melted instantly, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

He was at your side in an instant, cutting away the ropes that bound you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice trembling just slightly. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, though tears streamed down your cheeks. Before you could speak, he pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to shield you from the world itself.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said, his voice breaking. “When I realized you were gone, I—” He stopped, his breath shuddering. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice. “What about the mission?” you whispered, guilt weighing heavily on your chest.

“The mission?” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows furrowing. “You think I care about the mission right now?” He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I told the crew to wait. Your safety comes first. Always.”

You broke down, the weight of your fear and guilt crashing over you. “I just… I didn’t want to be a burden,” you sobbed. “I wanted to prove I could handle myself.”

Shanks shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “You’re my wife. If worrying about you is what it takes, I’ll gladly do it.”

His words unraveled the knot in your chest, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to lean into him fully.

After a moment, you looked up at him, your voice shaky but resolute. “Teach me how to fight.”

Shanks blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then, a grin broke across his face, his usual teasing demeanor returning. “Fight, huh? Guess I’ll have to, or you’ll keep sneaking off on your own.”

You smacked his arm lightly, pouting. “I’m serious!”

“And I’m serious about carrying you back to the ship.” He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his arms. “Besides, you’re cute when you pout.”

Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but smile. Resting your head against his shoulder, you let out a small sigh of relief.

As Shanks carried you back toward the harbor, his laugh echoed through the air, a sound that made you feel, for the first time, like you truly belonged.

[thehistoriccemetery]

Heya 👋 I enjoy reading your headcanons, and I love your prompts… could you write the ladies for #5 Tav fainting from a hidden injury?

Tav Faints Due to Hidden Injury

Hey! I always enjoy reading yours as well! Feel free to use any of those prompts as I’d love to see your take on them.

I probably won’t do anything more injury prompts for a while; there’s only so many ways I can hurt poor Tav.

Here’s prompt #5 for Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, and Minthara.

On the way into Baldur’s Gate, while all of your companions watch the lands free themselves of the shadow curse, you manage to walk carelessly into a broken cart handle. You’re no healer, but you know Shadowheart is going to have a thing or two to say if you ask her to patch it up. You decide it doesn’t look that bad, and patch it up yourself. It’s an exciting day, finally arriving in the city. Why bring down the mood with a fresh gash in the side?

Shadowheart

The two of you are taking a short walk to familiarize yourselves with the new camp at Wrym’s Lookout.

You had been trying to keep your cool, but as you climbed up ladders and dodged rumble, you felt the ache in your side start to grow.

You stop and lean against a beam for support, clutching your side and breathing heavily.

“Are you alright, love?” Shadowheart asks tenderly, approaching you slowly before you quickly collapse on the ground.

She rushes over, trying and failing to catch you. She rolls you over on your back, lifting your shirt.

She sees the makeshift bandages you’ve wrapped yourself in and carefully slices away at them with her dagger.

She flinches, seeing the deep gash in your skin. Luckily, you just happen to be in love with one of the best clerics around. A cure wounds spell patches you right up.

You wake up almost immediately to a very unhappy looking Shadowheart.

“Care to explain the massive laceration I just found under your shirt?” She quips. “Or, are we just withholding such information with one another these days.”

“You’re one to talk about withholding information,” you attempt to joke.

She does not laugh. “So I suppose you’ve just forgotten how you acquired such a wound?”

You sighed. “It was on the bridge on the way over. I-I impaled myself with a piece of wood.”

She hits the back of your head with the back of her hand. “Ow!” You shout.

“It would’ve taken me two seconds to heal that wound up fresh. Now you’ve probably got a variety of different diseases swimming around from how poorly you packed it.”

She reaches out a hand to help you to your feet. “Let’s go,” she says. “I’m going to teach you how to properly wrap a wound.”

Lae’zel

You and Lae’zel walk alongside the city walls, just outside the city. Looking for clear signs of damage from the Netherbrain.

She comments a few times on how you are moving slower than usual. “We cannot afford to be so sluggish in the days to come,” she tells you.

It isn’t until you fade paler than Vlaakith herself that she notices something is seriously wrong. You fall to the ground before she can think to catch you.

She notices blood beginning to speckle your undershirt. “Tsk’va!” She curses, cutting away the fabric entirely.

You’re too far from camp and losing too much blood for her to get you back in time. She’s going to have to deal with this herself.

But she couldn’t tell you the first thing about closing a wound.

Hair. She remembers a ghustil sewing her up with a strand of her own hair. She plucks a hair from your head and gets to work.

You wake up halfway through the delicate operation, half crying from the pain of the repeated rough stabbing of your already tender wound.

“Silence!” She shouts, lazer focused on the task at hand. It doesn’t take a psionic tadpole connection to tell that she is angry.

When she’s finally finished, the wound looks… unpleasant to put it mildly. But it should be enough to get you back to camp.

“I didn’t think I needed to explain to you the stupidity of hiding grave afflictions,” she spits.

You open your mouth to apologize, but she cuts you off. “I will not hear apologies, only promises that it will not happen again.”

Karlach

Growing up on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, Karlach is all too excited to revisit some of her favorite places with you.

Her excitement makes for an easy distraction. She is so focused on her surroundings she doesn’t notice the way you grind your teeth together in pain.

“Hey Soldier, check this out,” she shouts excitedly, walking back towards you with some cool plants she found.

You try to smile, but whiteness clouds your vision as you fall to the ground. She drops the plant and runs to hold you up.

“Soldier? You know you’re not supposed to go and pass out on me. I don’t know how to…”

Panic starts to rise in her chest and she lays you gently on the ground. “Alright Karlach, you got this,” she assures herself.

She lifts the base of your shirt, starting to panic again when she sees the blood soaked bandages.

She gingerly removes them revealing the nasty gash underneath. “Oh boy, you really did a number on yourself,” she says.

She looks around, trying to find absolutely anything that could close the wound. She didn’t know any spells, nor did she know anything about sutures.

She sighed. She had an idea, but she didn’t like it. “Okay soldier, I’m just gonna need you to stay asleep for a little while longer. Can you do that for me?”

Dammon had fixed up her engine so she didn’t burn so hot anymore, but she was pretty sure she could just get hot enough….

She pinched the wound together, then, with clenched teeth, she placed her other hand on top of it. She channeled all of her anger until she smelt the burning of flesh.

You jolted awake with a scream and she pulled away. The wound was now replaced with a cauterized burn.

“It worked! You’re okay!” She exclaimed, rather impressed with herself. “You are never allowed to do that to me again.”

You groan, sitting up. Your head is still spinning from pain and blood loss. You sway ever so slightly.

“Woah, slow down there soldier,” Karlach says, gently pushing you back to lie down. “Again does include right now, you know. Come on. Let’s get you back to camp.”

Minthara

You and Minthara take a stroll around the outer city, allowing her to take in a surface city for the first time.

Not far into your walk though, you begin to feel lightheaded. “Minthara I think I need to sit-“ you are cut off abruptly by your own collapse.

You fall limp onto the cobblestone on the city streets.

She is quickly down beside, cooling your face with her cool hands. It’s only then she notices the bloody bandages under your shirt.

Confused, she cuts away with them away, revealing your injury.

Her face immediately pales. The wound is mild, nothing she is incapable of handling with a simple laying of hand. But you kept this from her.

She patches the wound with a gentle touch. But her mind continues to race. Why would you not tell her? Do you not trust her? Should she trust you?

You stir awake with a whine. The pain in your side is dulled, and you’re able to sit up with relative ease.

Minthara stares harshly back at you, silently awaiting an explanation. When you don’t offer one she asks, “why have you kept this from me?” She tries to hide her hurt behind anger.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “It’s just- I knew you were excited to see the city- and it was a stupid injury anyway I just- I didn’t want to be a bother.“

She looks dissatisfied with your answer. “We do not keep such grave secrets from one another. My trust is a fragile thing.”

You sigh, defeated. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

[sherry-cleo-salvadore]

People talking about holes in the major character stories - and yes that is true - there is so much emotional distance between all the characters and the audience and such a lack of growth in their journey, always running in circles and everything.

But at the same time I am thinking how even their emergencies/calls seem to have such emotional distance - I remember in early seasons mostly 1 to 6 just bawling my eyes out for those random emergencies - like it was the adrenaline rush and the tears I cried during the baby in the pipe emergency that sucked me in the show, before I began forming attachments to the characters and their stories.

Like I remember having such an emotional connection to those characters who would just appear for five - ten minutes in the show and being on the edge of my seat for resolve, my heart racing thinking will they or won't they survive and all of that.

Even the comedy element of the emergencies had some real depth to them in the previous seasons - like the Smurf lady or all those treasure hunt emergencies or the Bridezella... These past two seasons even the comic element of them doesn't have the same depth they used to have - I don't know how to describe it but there seemed be a sense of heart even in those comic relief emergencies, all we got is an alien hand and Brad almost killing some random actor because he is as Bobby said 'an entitled man child'.

Even the characters - the 118, Athena and Maddie - have such an emotional distance from those emergencies. I had such hopes from the baby in the pipe emergency in 8x06 and hoped for Eddie to have some catharsis but I don't know it felt like such an easy and fast resolve. It was a scary emergency and a good concept, but it didn't have the emotional high-stake I hoped it would with the way they promoted it in the promo.

And don't even get me started on the disaster emergencies... While I love Bathena and that plane landing scene has my whole heart... but why are the high stake emergencies in these season premieres and finale only involving Bobby and Athena. Give me the Earthquake and Tsunami like emergencies - that season 1 Plane Crash, the bridge collapse, the Blackout - where all characters have a part to play and I feel my heart racing for all of them and they all get to be total badasses in the rescues in their own way.

Seriously, are they having Chat GPT writing their episodes or what? Please, if you can't seem to invest in the storyline of your characters (which technically you should if you want your show to have some real heart to it), then at least, bring back those high-stake adrenaline rushes and the emotional depth into your emergencies or what is the point of the show being a procedural?

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 11/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, some slightly spicy scenes

Word Count: 6296

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you hung up the phone, the ache of missing him was still there, but it was overshadowed by the hope and reassurance his words had brought. You knew that the next two months would be a test, but one you were ready to face together.

After spending over three hours cleaning your apartment to distract yourself, you finally collapsed into bed, utterly exhausted. Sleep claimed you within seconds, and you missed the message Jensen sent just minutes after you drifted off.

Meanwhile, Jensen arrived at his house in Connecticut. Stepping out of the cab, he took a deep breath, feeling a flood of emotions. The surroundings brought anxiety as he mentally prepared for what awaited him inside.

Entering through the front door, he was greeted by the lively sounds of his children still awake. JJ spotted him first and ran towards him with a wide grin, exclaiming, “Daddy!”. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, her excitement palpable.

Jensen’s heart warmed as he bent down to scoop her up into a warm hug. “Hey, sweetheart”, he said softly, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I missed you”.

Arrow and Zeppelin hung back a bit, their expressions more reserved. They had always been closer to their mother, especially since they noticed the special bond between Jensen and JJ. Sensing their hesitation, Jensen extended his hand towards them with a welcoming smile.

“Come here, you two”, he encouraged gently. “I missed you guys too”.

After a moment’s hesitation, Arrow cautiously stepped forward, followed by Zeppelin. They approached him tentatively, and Jensen knelt down to their level, JJ still holding onto his side. He tousled Zeppelin’s hair affectionately and gave Arrow a reassuring pat on the back.

“How have my little ones been?”, he asked warmly, trying to bridge the gap between them.

“We’ve been good”, Zeppelin replied softly, looking up at his father with a small smile. “Mom made us pancakes for dinner”.

Jensen chuckled softly. “Pancakes for dinner? That sounds delicious”.

Just then, Danneel stepped into the room, her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face. Jensen’s jaw clenched slightly as he braced himself for her reaction. She had just hung up a call, and her frustration was evident.

“You should have called me”, Danneel said tersely, her voice tinged with irritation. “Letting me know you’re on your way from the airport”.

Jensen sighed inwardly, knowing this was a conversation they often circled back to. “I’m sorry”, he replied evenly, trying to keep his tone neutral. “It was a long flight, and I wanted to get home to see the kids”.

Danneel’s expression softened slightly, but her frustration lingered. “It’s not just about that, Jensen”, she said, her voice lowering to a more subdued tone. “Communication is important. We talked about this”.

Jensen felt the weight of Danneel’s words, knowing all too well the underlying tensions in their strained marriage. They had grown apart over the years, the love they once shared now replaced by a mutual understanding of their roles. Danneel, focused on maintaining their image and the financial stability Jensen provided, often ignored the emotional disconnect between them.

“Yeah, communication”, Jensen muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with frustration as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know”.

Danneel’s lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Jensen’s jaw clenched again, his gaze hardening as he met her eyes. They had danced around this conversation too many times, neither willing to confront the reality of their failing marriage head-on. He knew Danneel’s priorities lay elsewhere, and their interactions had become strained, devoid of the warmth and affection they once shared.

“We have responsibilities”, she stated firmly, her voice steady despite the tension between them. “And I intend to uphold mine”.

Jensen sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I know”, he murmured.

Without another word, he pulled off his jacket and hung it up, then grabbed his bag, turning towards the stairs. Danneel watched him with narrowed eyes, her arms still crossed.

“Where are you going?”, she asked sharply.

“Unpacking”, Jensen grumbled, not bothering to look back at her as he started up the stairs.

But Danneel wasn’t having it. She followed him, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house. “We’re not done talking”, she insisted, her voice filled with frustration.

“There’s nothing more to say, Danneel”, he replied, trying to keep his tone even. “We’ve had this conversation too many times”.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Jensen turned towards his room. Even in the new house, he had insisted on having his own space, much like the setup they had in Austin. The strain in their marriage had grown too great for him to share a bed with her anymore.

Danneel followed him into his room, her frustration clear in her eyes. “You can’t just walk away every time things get tough”, she said, her voice trembling slightly with anger. “We need to deal with this”.

Jensen dropped his bag onto the floor and turned to face her, his own anger simmering beneath the surface. “Deal with what, Danneel? The fact that we’re living a lie? That we’re pretending everything’s fine for the sake of appearances?”.

Danneel’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with defiance. “We have responsibilities, Jensen. To our family, to our image. You can’t just run away from that”.

“I’m not running away”, Jensen shot back, his voice rising. “I’m facing reality. Our marriage is over, Danneel. It’s been over for a long time. We’re just going through the motions”.

Her silence was heavy, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of their words hanging in the air.

“You’re right”, she finally said, her voice low and bitter. “But that doesn’t mean we can just give up. We have to keep up appearances, for the kids, for everything we’ve built”.

Jensen ran a hand through his hair, feeling the exhaustion of their ongoing battle. “I’m tired, Danneel. Tired of pretending. Tired of living a lie”.

“And what do you propose?”, she asked, her tone icy. “Just throw it all away?”.

“I don’t know”, Jensen admitted, his voice softening. “But we can’t keep going on like this”.

Jensen began to sort his clothes out of his bag, throwing his phone onto the bed and starting to undress, not bothering that Danneel was still in the room. He was too exhausted to care about propriety at this point.

Danneel’s eyes flashed with anger as she watched him. “I told you before, Jensen”, she snapped, her voice sharp and cutting. “There’s no way you’re going to make me the poor, stupid ex-wife who was left”.

Jensen paused, his shirt halfway off, and looked at her, frustration evident in his eyes. “This isn’t about making you look bad, Danneel. It’s about being honest about what we’ve become”.

As he pulled off his shirt completely, Danneel’s gaze zeroed in on his back. The faint, red marks—cuts that had to heal—caught her attention.

“What the hell are those?”, she demanded, her voice trembling with fury.

Jensen turned to follow her gaze, his confusion quickly turning to realization as he remembered the intensity of his time with you. “It’s nothing”, he said defensively, quickly turning back to his bag.

“Nothing?”, Danneel scoffed, taking a step closer. “Those look like scratch marks, Jensen. Who did that?”.

Jensen’s jaw clenched, and he threw the shirt he was holding onto the bed. “It’s none of your business”, he said coldly.

Danneel’s face hardened, her anger boiling over. “It is my business when you come home with marks like that“.

Jensen took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check. “You seem to forget that you were the one who had an affair first”, he reminded her, his voice steady but laced with bitterness. “Years ago. And we agreed not to talk about who we’re seeing. We both know this marriage has been over for a long time”.

Danneel’s eyes flashed with indignation. “That was different, Jensen. You didn’t seem to care then, and you certainly never showed up with marks like that”.

“Different?”, Jensen scoffed. “We’ve both had our affairs, Danneel. You set the precedent, and I followed. But I never flaunted it because I respected our arrangement. Until now, I haven’t seen anyone for months”.

Danneel’s expression shifted from anger to something resembling hurt. “You didn’t have to make it so obvious”, she said quietly.

Jensen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to make anything obvious. It just happened”.

“Who is she?”, Danneel asked, her voice softer but still edged with tension.

Jensen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we both know where we stand”.

Danneel’s expression hardened again, a sharp edge returning to her voice. “Your new bitch better keep her mouth shut for her own sake”, she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger.

Jensen felt his own temper flare. “Don’t you dare call her that”, he said through gritted teeth. “She’s got nothing to do with this mess we’ve made. This is between you and me”.

“Well, then she better stay out of it”, Danneel retorted. “I won’t have my life turned upside down because of your midlife crisis”.

Jensen took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “This isn’t a midlife crisis, Danneel. This is me finally admitting that I can’t live like this anymore. We can’t keep pretending”.

Danneel crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her posture defensive. “Don´t expect me to roll over and play nice just because you decided to grow a conscience”.

Jensen waved her off, looking more than annoyed. He turned his back to her and grabbed a fresh shirt from his bag, dressing in something more comfortable. His movements were tense, filled with frustration.

“I’m so done with all this shit”, he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible but dripping with anger. “I can’t even stand to see your fucking face anymore”.

Danneel��s eyes narrowed, her anger flaring again at his words. “Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual”, she snapped back.

Jensen’s eyes were still burning with frustration as he pulled on his fresh shirt. He didn’t even bother to look at Danneel, who was standing there with her arms crossed, her own face flushed with anger. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Just then, the door creaked open, and JJ stepped inside, holding up a board game. Her bright eyes were filled with hope and excitement, completely unaware of the storm brewing between her parents. “Can we play this game?”, she asked, her voice innocent and eager.

Jensen and Danneel both turned to look at their daughter, their anger momentarily eclipsed by the sight of her. Jensen felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside. “Sure", he said, his voice gentler. “Which game did you pick?”.

JJ’s face lit up with a huge smile as she held up the game box. “Monopoly!”, she announced, her enthusiasm contagious.

Danneel took a deep breath, smoothing her expression into something resembling calm. “Of course, JJ”, she said, stepping closer and placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s go set it up in the living room”.

JJ beamed, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension between her parents. “Yay! It’s going to be so much fun!”.

As they followed JJ out of the room, Jensen and Danneel exchanged a brief, weary glance. The facade of normalcy had to be maintained, at least for their daughter’s sake. They knew they had to put their differences aside, if only for a little while, to give her the sense of family she deserved.

As JJ eagerly set up the board game with Arrow and Zeppelin, Jensen slipped into the kitchen. He reached for a bottle of whiskey, knowing it was the only way he’d get through the long game ahead. Pouring a generous amount into a mug, he took a deep breath and braced himself for the evening.

With his mug in hand, Jensen settled at the table, watching his kids as they prepared for the game. He pulled out his phone, the urge to connect with you too strong to resist. Quickly, he typed out a message: “I wish I was still lying with you in your bed. Missing you”.

Unbeknownst to him, you were already asleep, the exhaustion of the day having taken its toll. Sighing deeply, Jensen put his phone away and focused on the scene before him. JJ was distributing the Monopoly money with great enthusiasm, her excitement infectious despite the underlying tension.

Danneel, never one to miss a chance to uphold their facade, snapped a picture of the five of them around the game. “Everyone smile”, she instructed, her voice strained as she tried to maintain a cheerful tone.

Jensen forced a smile, his jaw clenched as he looked at the camera. “Fucking smile, Jensen!”, Danneel hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing at him.

He plastered on a wider grin, feeling the bitterness rise within him. The camera clicked, capturing the image of a seemingly happy family for Danneel’s Instagram followers. The picture was a stark contrast to the reality of their strained relationship.

With the obligatory photo out of the way, JJ handed out the last of the Monopoly money and took her place at the table. “Okay, who’s going to be the banker?”, she asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’ll do it”, Jensen volunteered, wanting to distract himself from his thoughts. “Nothing different from my real role here”, he muttered under his breath and Danneel shot him a sharp glance.

“Just play the game, Jensen”, she said tersely, her voice barely concealing her irritation.

Jensen forced another smile, taking the stack of Monopoly money and organizing it. “Alright, let’s get this started”, he said, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice for the kids’ sake.

The game began, and for a while, the room was filled with the sounds of dice rolling, money changing hands, and playful banter between the children. JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin were completely engrossed in the game, their laughter and excitement a temporary balm for the underlying tension between their parents.

Jensen took a sip from his whiskey mug, feeling the warmth spread through him. It helped to dull the edges of his frustration, allowing him to focus more on the game and less on the strained dynamics with Danneel.

As the game progressed, JJ landed on one of Jensen’s properties and groaned dramatically. “Dad, you’re making me go bankrupt!”, she exclaimed, her eyes wide with mock horror.

Jensen chuckled, enjoying the moment of levity. “That’s the game, sweetheart. You’ll get me back next time”.

Danneel, despite the tension, managed to keep up her role, interacting with the kids and playing her part in the game. For a brief moment, the room felt almost normal, like the family they used to be.

Hours passed, and the game finally drew to a close. Arrow and Zeppelin yawned, their energy waning as the evening wore on.

“Alright, time for bed”, Jensen said gently, gathering up the game pieces. “We’ll play again another time”.

The kids groaned in unison but complied, shuffling off to their rooms with tired smiles. Jensen and Danneel tidied up the living room in silence, the earlier tensions resurfacing as the facade of family game night faded away.

Once the kids were settled, Jensen returned to his room, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. He checked his phone again, seeing no response from you. With a heavy heart, he lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Jensen lay awake for about an hour, thoughts of you swirling incessantly through his mind. The weight of recent events and his complicated emotions had kept sleep at bay, leaving him restless and contemplative. As he stared at the ceiling in the dimly lit room, the soft creak of the door pulled him from his reverie.

JJ stood hesitantly in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the faint light filtering in from the hallway. It had been a while since she struggled to sleep, and tonight, her restlessness had brought her to her father’s door. She peered into the room, uncertainty etched on her face, before softly asking, “Daddy? Are you awake?”.

Startled from his thoughts, Jensen turned to see JJ standing there, her presence both comforting and unexpected. Despite his own inner turmoil, he managed a warm smile for her. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m awake”, he replied softly, his voice carrying reassurance.

JJ hesitated for a moment longer, then shuffled closer to the bed, her small figure moving with caution. Jensen could see the unease in her eyes, and he silently beckoned her to come closer. “Come here”, he said gently, patting the space beside him on the bed.

JJ tiptoed across the room and climbed onto the bed, curling up next to her father. She nestled into his side, seeking comfort in his familiar presence. Jensen wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close as they lay together in the quiet of the room.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”, Jensen asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

JJ sighed. “I don’t know, Daddy”, she murmured. “Sometimes I get scared at night, and I can’t sleep”.

Jensen tightened his embrace, offering her silent support. "It's okay to feel scared", he reassured her. "Everyone feels that way sometimes".

"I know", JJ whispered, her voice barely audible. "But it helps when you're here".

Jensen pressed a kiss to the top of her head, feeling a swell of love and protectiveness for his daughter. "I'll always be here for you, JJ", he promised quietly. "You can come to me anytime you need".

JJ nestled closer, drawing comfort from his steady presence. For a few moments, they lay in silence, the gentle rise and fall of their breathing creating a calming rhythm. The stillness of the room wrapped around them like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension that had gripped Jensen’s mind.

“What do you think about when you can’t sleep, Daddy?”, JJ asked after a while, her curiosity breaking the silence.

Jensen smiled softly, though it was tinged with a hint of sadness. “I think about a lot of things, sweetheart. About work, about making sure everyone is happy and safe”.

JJ looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Do you think about happy things too?”.

Jensen nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I do. I think about the times we spend together, like playing games or going on trips. I think about the people who make me happy”.

JJ’s face brightened a little. “Like Mommy?”.

Jensen hesitated, his smile faltering briefly. “Yes, like Mommy”, he said, his voice steady. “And also my friends, and you, of course”.

JJ seemed satisfied with his answer and settled back down against him. “I think about you too, Daddy. When I get scared, I think about you and it makes me feel better”.

Jensen felt a lump form in his throat, touched by his daughter’s words. “I’m glad, JJ. That’s what dads are for, to help make the scary things less scary”.

They lay together in the quiet room, Jensen’s mind gradually calming as he focused on the simple, pure connection with his daughter.

As JJ’s breathing evened out, indicating she had finally drifted off to sleep, Jensen closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax.

The next morning, when Jensen woke up, he immediately noticed that JJ was already gone. The space beside him was empty and the room was filled with the early morning light filtering through the curtains. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone on the nightstand, feeling the familiar weight of sleep still clinging to him.

As he blinked at the screen, a message notification caught his eye. It was from you. His heart quickened as he read your words: “I definitely didn’t sleep as well as I did in your arms yesterday”.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, warmth spreading through him at the thought of you.

He quickly typed a response: ”Same here. Any plans for today?“.

Setting his phone aside, Jensen got out of bed and dressed for the day, feeling a bit more positive after reading your message. As he made his way downstairs, he was greeted by the sounds of his children laughing and playing.

In the kitchen, JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin were already eating breakfast. Danneel was there too, her expression neutral but calm. She glanced up as Jensen entered, a brief nod serving as their morning greeting.

“Morning, Daddy!”, JJ called out, her face lighting up with a smile. “We’re having pancakes!”.

Jensen smiled back, the sight of his children bringing a sense of normalcy. “Morning, everyone. Pancakes sound great”.

As Jensen ate breakfast with his family, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He discreetly checked it under the table and saw your reply: “Just need to get groceries and probably hitting the gym”.

He bit his tongue, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he typed out his response: “How much time do you actually spend at the gym? Because your ass says a lot”.

Jensen hit send, chuckling quietly to himself. He looked up to see JJ watching him with a curious expression. “What’s so funny, Daddy?”, she asked, her eyes wide with interest.

“Just a silly joke”, Jensen replied, ruffling her hair.

JJ giggled, accepting his explanation as she turned back to her pancakes. Jensen felt another buzz from his phone and glanced down to see your response: “Glad you noticed! I spend what feels like half my life there, lol”.

“Trust me, it’s hard not to notice”, he typed back. After a brief hesitation, he added, “Can’t wait to see that ass in person again“.

As you read Jensen’s message, a playful smirk formed on your lips. His boldness was both thrilling and enticing, bringing back vivid memories of the passionate night you shared together.

“Careful now, Mr. Ackles”, you replied.

Jensen’s phone buzzed with your message, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He quickly typed back, “We both know you don’t want me to be careful“.

Your heart skipped a beat at his boldness, your cheeks flushing even more. “Is that so? What makes you so sure?”, you replied, playing along.

Jensen’s grin widened as he recalled the night you shared. “Oh, I seem to remember you begging me to go harder… several times”, he typed.

You bit your lip, remembering just how intense and incredible that night had been. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep up”, you teased back.

Jensen’s phone buzzed again, and he couldn’t suppress the smirk forming on his lips. He quickly typed back, “Oh, I just know you’re still sore because of me. Am I right?”.

Your breath hitched as you read his message. He was right; you were still feeling the delicious ache from his attentions. But you couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more.

“Maybe just a little”, you replied coyly.

“Just a little? I must be losing my touch”, he typed, his fingers moving quickly over the screen.

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Oh, you haven’t lost a thing. Trust me. My body is still recovering”, you responded.

Jensen felt a surge of satisfaction at your words. “Good to know. Next time, I’ll make sure you can’t walk straight for days”.

You blushed deeply, the anticipation building within you. “Promises, promises”, you replied. “You better be ready to back them up”.

“Oh, I am”, Jensen texted confidently. “And I can’t wait to remind you just how good I am at keeping my promises”.

Your heart fluttered at his words. “Then hurry up and clear your schedule, Mr. Ackles. I’m counting the days”.

Jensen smiled, feeling a renewed sense of excitement and determination. “I’m on it. See you soon”.

Jensen set his phone aside, still smiling from the playful exchange with you. As he turned his attention back to his surroundings, he noticed Danneel eying him from the side. Her expression was unreadable, but she didn’t say anything, choosing instead to focus on her own tasks.

The rest of the day, Jensen spent for himself, finding a quiet corner in the house to dive into his work. He picked up the script for “The Boys” Season 5, immersing himself in the world of his character. It was a welcome distraction, giving him something productive to focus on amid the emotional turbulence of his personal life.

Occasionally, his thoughts drifted back to you. He found himself reading the same line of the script more than once.

As evening came, the house grew quiet. The kids were asleep, and Danneel had gone out with friends. Jensen found himself with some rare, uninterrupted time. He decided to take advantage of it. Putting in his AirPods, he settled into a comfortable chair and opened his phone, navigating to your contact. He hesitated for a moment, hoping you’d still be awake, before initiating a video call.

The call connected, and after a few rings, your face appeared on the screen, framed by the soft light of your room. The sight of you brought an immediate smile to Jensen’s face.

“Hey”, you greeted warmly, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “I wasn’t expecting a call this late”.

“Hey”, Jensen replied, his voice filled with genuine affection. “I just needed to see you. It’s been a long day”.

You settled back, getting more comfortable as you adjusted your phone. “I’m glad you called. How are things on your end?”.

Jensen sighed, the weight of the day briefly evident in his expression. He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words.

Before he could answer, you spoke softly, your concern evident. “Is it about your wife?”.

Jensen looked at you, appreciating your understanding and concern. “Yeah”, he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the twinge of jealousy that bubbled up despite Jensen’s reassurances about his marriage. He had been clear that there was no love between him and his wife, and they maintained a facade for appearances. Yet, seeing him burdened by the complexities of his family life stirred conflicting emotions within you.

“I understand”, you replied softly, your voice tinged with empathy. “It must be really hard”.

Jensen nodded, his eyes reflecting gratitude for your understanding. “It is”, he admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his responsibilities. “I wish it were different”.

You sighed softly, feeling a mix of emotions as you looked at Jensen. “I just want to cheer you up”, you said gently. “What can I do?”.

Jensen’s eyes softened at your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just talking to you helps”, he admitted. “But honestly, hearing about your day, your life—it distracts me from all this”.

You nodded, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Well, let’s see”, you began, settling into a more comfortable position. “Today was pretty uneventful, but I did have a funny moment at the gym”.

Jensen leaned in, his interest piqued. “Oh? Do tell”.

You chuckled softly, recalling the moment. “So, I was in the shower after my workout, just minding my own business”, you began, “and I slipped on some soap. Now I’ve got this huge bruise down my rib”.

Jensen’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide with concern. “That’s not fucking funny”, he said, shaking his head. “Are you okay? That sounds really painful”.

You nodded, trying to downplay it. “Yeah, it was more embarrassing than anything. I mean, it hurts, but I’ll be fine. Just a reminder to be more careful”.

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you want to see it?”, you asked playfully, teasing a bit to shift his concern to something lighter.

Jensen’s eyes widened further, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re offering to show me your bruise? How could I say no?”, he replied, his tone a mix of amusement and curiosity.

You adjusted your camera and lifted your shirt slightly to reveal the dark bruise on your rib. “See? Not so bad”, you said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though the bruise looked quite painful.

Jensen winced in sympathy. “Ouch. That does look pretty bad”, he said softly. “I hope it heals quickly”.

“It will”, you assured him. “I’ve had worse". But the bruise really was huge, covering nearly your whole ribcage.

“How can someone fall this bad in a stupid shower and end up with such a huge bruise?”, he asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“That’s me for you”, you said with a light-hearted shrug. “I manage to turn the most mundane activities into a catastrophe”.

Jensen smiled, though the worry in his eyes hadn’t completely faded. “You’ve got to be more careful. I don’t want you getting hurt”.

You nodded, appreciating his concern. “I will“.

Jensen’s grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about you lift your shirt a bit more?”, he asked teasingly.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his cheeky request. “Oh, really? Is that how it’s going to be?”, you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Just a little bit”, he said, his tone light and mischievous. “I need to make sure you didn’t hurt anything else”.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help but smile at his playful demeanor. “Alright, but just a bit”, you said.

As you lifted your shirt a little higher, revealing the swell of your breasts, Jensen’s eyes darkened with desire. He noticed you weren’t wearing a bra, and the sight teased him even more. His breath hitched slightly, and he swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure.

“Maybe a bit more”, he mumbled huskily, his voice low and filled with longing.

You could see the effect you had on him, and it sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, considering his request. “Just a little more?”, you teased, enjoying the way his gaze lingered on you.

“Please”, he whispered, his eyes locked on yours, filled with anticipation.

Slowly, you inched your shirt up a little higher, stopping just before your nipples could show. The tension between you was palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

“A little more”, he urged softly, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel your pulse quicken at his request, the playful teasing giving way to a more intimate desire. “Just a bit?”, you asked, your own voice barely above a whisper, wanting to prolong the moment.

“Just a bit”, he confirmed, his eyes dark with longing.

With a deep breath, you lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the peaks of your nipples, feeling the thrill of baring yourself to him, even through the screen.

Jensen’s reaction was immediate—his eyes widened, and he let out a low groan of appreciation as his gaze drank in the sight of you. He could feel his dick stiffen in his sweatpants just from the sight of your skin. The intensity of his desire for you was almost overwhelming.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me”, he murmured, his voice rough with need, his eyes never leaving your exposed skin.

You felt a thrill at his words, the power you had over him making you feel bold and desired. “Maybe I do”, you teased, your voice soft and sultry.

Jensen shifted slightly, his arousal evident as he adjusted himself to get more comfortable. “Fuck, you’re perfect”, he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

"I think you need to touch yourself for me”, he added, his tone husky.

Your breath hitched at his words. Slowly, you let your fingers glide up your torso, feeling the heat of your skin as you moved closer to your breasts. Your eyes remained locked on Jensen’s, his gaze dark and hungry.

Gently, you teased the peaks of your nipples, feeling the sensation ripple through you. “Like this?”, you asked softly, your voice trembling with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Jensen groaned, his eyes never leaving your movements. “Yes, just like that”, he murmured.

As he shifted slightly to adjust his erection, his eyes dark and filled with desire, you slowly pulled your shirt back down, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

“Fucking tease”, Jensen muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and amusement.

You chuckled softly, enjoying the power you had over him. “Maybe I am”, you replied, your voice playful. “But I think you like it”.

Jensen’s smile broadened, and he shook his head slightly. “You have no idea”, he said, his voice low and filled with longing. “But now you’ve left me wanting more”.

Jensen continued to stroke his dick, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, a mixture of power and desire coursing through you.

“You think it’s funny to leave me like this?”, Jensen asked, his voice rough with a mixture of amusement and frustration.

You grinned, enjoying the playful tension between you. “Maybe”, you teased, your voice soft and seductive. “But I think you can handle it”.

“Oh, I can handle it”, he said, his eyes dark with promise. “But you’re going to pay for this next time we’re together”.

You yawned tiredly, feeling the exhaustion from the day catching up with you. Despite the playful tension, you couldn’t suppress another yawn. “I’m sure counting on it”, you replied, your voice soft and teasing but laced with fatigue.

Jensen chuckled softly, the sound warm and affectionate. “You look like you need to get some sleep”, he said, his tone gentle. “We can continue this another time”.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his concern. “Yeah, I think I do”, you admitted. “But I’ll be dreaming about what you’re going to do to me”.

Jensen’s eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and desire. “Sweet dreams, then”, he murmured.

You ended the call, feeling a sense of contentment despite the longing. Taking a deep breath, you turned around in bed, your head sinking into the pillow that still carried Jensen’s faint scent.

Meanwhile, on Jensen’s end, he sat back in his chair, the air thick with desire and frustration. His erection throbbed beneath his sweatpants, a reminder of the arousal you had stoked in him. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily as he tried to calm his racing thoughts.

Sleep seemed out of the question now, his mind consumed with images of you, your voice still echoing in his ears. He contemplated calling you back, but he knew it was late and you needed rest. Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes and letting his hand slip beneath his waistband once more, giving in to the overwhelming need to relieve the tension you had ignited in him.

He closed his eyes, letting his imagination take over. He pictured you lying in bed, your fingers teasing your nipples as you had done during the call, your soft moans filling his ears. The memory of your playful teasing and the sight of your body fueled his arousal, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge.

His hand moved with a deliberate rhythm, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through his body. He imagined the feel of your skin against his, the heat of your body as you pressed against him. His breaths came faster, each one a ragged gasp as he lost himself in the fantasy.

Jensen's mind conjured images of you beneath him, your body arching with need, your lips parting in a breathless moan as he touched you. He could almost feel the softness of your skin, the way you would respond to his every touch, the way your body would tremble as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy.

His strokes became more urgent, his body tensing with the building pleasure. He imagined the moment he would finally be inside you, the heat and tightness enveloping him as he thrust deeper, your moans growing louder with each movement. The thought of your pleasure, the look of ecstasy on your face, pushed him closer to his release.

With a final, shuddering breath, Jensen's body tensed, and he let out a low groan as he climaxed, the pleasure washing over him in waves. His hand moved slowly, milking every last drop of pleasure as he rode out his orgasm. The tension that had gripped him finally began to ease, leaving him breathless and spent.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 12

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Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Not to Me

Christian Yu/Mito x Y/N - drabble - 861 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: TW! mention of suicidal ideation, depression, fear, fluff, comfort, jealousy, hugs and kisses for the special bb boy, so much love its almost gross

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

Christian watched from across the room as you spoke to Da-bin. You laughed, hard. You playfully shoved him, almost spilling your champagne. Christian sat in the shadows, the party for the Dream Reborn World Tour was in full swing and had been for hours. Christian was exhausted and defeated. His whole heart had gone into getting the tour going. He had rarely seen you over the past two months and you were nothing but understanding. Yet he couldn’t help but feel like the long hours had put a wedge in your relationship and it was all his fault. So there he sat, watching you and his band member talk. He knew in his soul you would never cheat on him, but that didn’t make him any less jealous. Didn’t make him want to somehow fix it all and beg for you to stay. He could feel Mito inside, aching to take over. He fought so hard to be himself while all this was going on, to be normal. But he was losing the fight; he stood up slinking out of the venue. He lit a cigarette as he walked through the city, wandering back towards your shared apartment. At some point during the walk it wasn’t Christian moving, it was Mito. He had no idea how he ended up at the Han River but he did. Even worse, he was looking over the edge of the bridge into the deep blue below. He leaned in, closer to the edge. His foot slipped, a shoe coming off and pulling him back into reality. He stepped away from the edge, stumbling backwards before deciding to run home. Even Mito was scared of the hasty decision he might make. Once home he collapsed in your shared bed, wanting to escape his own mind.

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

“Christian?!” you screamed as you bolted through the front door.

Mito woke up with a start; why did you sound so panicked? He sat up, stretching a bit before the bedroom door flew open and startled him. 

“Oh my god…” you sobbed, running to him and engulfing him in a bone crushing hug. 

He felt confused but hugged you back instantly, “Baby? What’s wrong?” 

You leaned back, your voice sounding angry but also pained, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Are you kidding me??” you said searching his face.

He looked genuinely confused.

“I have been calling you since I saw you slip out for a smoke at the party. I thought you might want some space so I didn’t follow you but then… then you didn’t come back.” you said, eyes becoming big and round. “I called you so many times… you never answered. I got nervous and left the party. I walked home just in case. And what do I find at the fucking Han River? Your fucking shoe!” you said, hitting him in the chest as your tears pick back up. 

Oh. He understood now. “You… you thought I…” he gulped.

“I thought you jumped!” you yelled at him. You weren’t angry and he knew that, you were worried to death. “The only reason there isn’t a S.W.A.T. team searching for your ass is because I checked your location!” you hit his chest once again.

You took a breath, trying to steady yourself.

“I thought… I thought you were dead.” you cried, holding his face in your hands just to confirm to yourself that he was real and there with you, not at the bottom of a river. 

Mito kissed over your cheeks, catching your tears on his lips. He felt himself crying. Not only because of the fear he instilled in you but the fact that your nightmare had crossed his mind as an idea just hours previously. He felt ashamed and the question of why you were with him drowned his mind. “I’m ok…” was all he could think to say - over and over again until your sobs turned into sniffles. 

“I love you,” you said, “Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again.” you said in all seriousness. The way your heart dropped when you saw his shoe on the side of the bridge. It felt like your soul was ripped out. You had never rushed home so fast after picking up his distinct shoe (the one you painted red hearts on). You felt some relief when his location was current and said your shared address but that didn’t stop your mind from racing with all the other horrible things that could be happening to him. 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, “I love you too… I don’t understand…” you could barely hear the last part. 

“Don’t understand what?” you said, thumbing over his cheeks. 

“Why do you love me?” he asked. His eyes looked so pained, so full of fear. 

You smiled at him softly, “You are my happiness. My sun, moon, and stars. Everything fades into background noise with you. You’re all I want and all I’ll ever need.” you said, sounding so sure of yourself and the decision to love him.

“It’s rotten work loving me,” he said.

“Not to me.” you assured him, kissing him so passionately it took his breath away.

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

Naboo's Note:

Two requests in one fic! Hello all, sorry for the little break, life was life-ing and got very busy very fast. I hope to post more but there will be another community update soon that I think would be helpful to read so I don't get anyones hopes up too high. Thanks for sticking around, XOXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!!!

[wileys-russo]

lessi as the godmother!!!! 🥹🥹🥹 no rush but please may you write a mini pt 2 where reader has given birth and less meets the baby for the first time<33

sequel to this and part of the a date to remember universe series

godmother II m.earps

"lets fucking go baby!" you yelled at the tv, clapping your hands happily as your wife saved another attempt on goal. it was mid WSL season and since you were so far along now at your doctors advice your wife had promptly banned you from leaving the house for anything not completely necessary, like appointments or your pre-natal classes.

you'd been trying to argue for the last few weeks that to you watching mary play was necessary, but she would just shut you up with a kiss and a firm shake of her head, ending any chance of an argument right there and then.

your wife had always been protective of you by nature throughout the entire time you'd known her, however given you were now pregnant she had become over protective. which meant you found yourself regularly having to bite your tongue not to tear her head off with how she fussed over you.

thats not to say you hadn't snapped.

pregnancy hormones were no joke and some days your wife found herself walking on eggshells, cautious that one wrong word or action would cause you to tip over the edge, your volatile moods becoming incredibly unpredictable.

though she knew it wasn't your fault and more often than not the moment you'd finished yelling you'd burst into tears and apologize, your wife assuring you over and over with soft and loving kisses that she wasn't mad and she understood it was out of your control.

but despite how much mary over worried, she was also your saving grace.

if it was holding up your stomach to allow your back a few brief moments of reprise from its dragging weight, rubbing your very swollen feet, massaging your back and shoulders, putting up with your mood swings, going to the shops at all hours of the day and night to satisfy every little pregnancy craving, if there was any way at all she could make your life easier in any possible way, she was there in an instant, and you adored her for it.

"get in tooney!" you yelled with a cheer, struggling to your feet and pumping your first in the air as the girl scored the equaliser in their match against liverpool, watching with a proud smile as she celebrated with the team, alessia the first one to pull her up and into a tight bear hug.

you heard a strange sound and grabbed at your stomach as a wave of pain suddenly rolled through you. "oh fuck. not now, please not now!" you begged, looking up at the ceiling with your eyes squeezed closed, in denial of what you know you had just heard.

sure enough looking down there was a large wet patch on the carpet and you groaned as another wave of pain rocked your body. sitting down and taking a deep breath you grabbed your phone, hands shaking as you unlocked it and flicked through your contacts to your mother in law.

"hi julie! um no everything is fine...but i think my waters just broke?"

~

"i'm here! i'm here! i'm here! no one panic!" you breathed out a sigh of relief as the door to your room smacked open and mary stumbled inside, still clad in her keepers kit, face blotchy and red as she squatted down, baby hairs clinging to her forehead which was matted in sweat.

"give me a minute babe oh my god that elevator was taking ages so i ran up like six flights of stairs. jesus!" mary puffed out as she struggled to catch her breath, bent over with her hands on her knees.

"you missed the birth mary." you stated quietly, the woman almost falling to her feet at the news, eyes as wide as saucers. "what!? why the fuck did no one call me?" your wife spat angrily, beginning to pace around at the foot of your bed.

"nah only joking. we've taught her well babe she waited for her mum to finish her game before arriving!" your face broke out into a grin, the colour returning to marys as she collapsed into the seat beside your bed, pincing the bridge of her nose.

"i swear on my life woman if you weren't pregnant i'd punch you." "excuse me darling which one of us in labor right now?"

"right! sorry my love. how are you? how far apart are the contractions? whats the pain one to ten? have you seen a doctor? is there a nurse nearby? have-"

"mary baby breathe!" you laughed, struggling up and gently grabbing her face, your thumbs stroking her jaw affectionately.

"i'm okay, just uncomfortable. its hard to explain but everything just feels really tight and sore? its still early stages, the contractions are about nine minutes apart when they timed them. they said my water broke prematurely which though rare does happen and doesn't mean theres any complications before your mind goes there." you explained as your wife placed her hands over yours, bringing them to her mouth and tenderly kissing the tips of your fingers with a nod.

"the doctors not been in yet and he won't until the contractions are closer together, but the midwives have been great. they should come back around in a few minutes actually so you can talk their ear off with your questions then. your mum just popped out to call my mum, she and my dad are getting on the first flight they can." you continued, smiling and giving your a little nod to show you were finished.

"thank god she picked up when you called. baby i told you i shouldn't have played today, what if no one was there to bring you to hospital!" mary sighed with a frustrated shake of her head, resting her chin on your intertwined hands, you almost having to lock her out of the house in order for her to leave this morning.

"then i'd have called an ambulance my love. you did play, and from what i hear you won so im glad that you did. i got here safely, you got here in time, everything worked out best as it could have. so stop being stroppy!" you smiled, gently pulling away your hands and teasingly flicking her ear before settling back into the hospital bed.

"i'm not bein stroppy!" "your moody little pout says very differently." "i'm not! i just love you and our daughter very very much and i worry about you both, you know that." "i know love, but you know at your age you have to be careful about worrying so much, you'll get grey hairs." "i'm hardly two years older than you are!" "I know you're ancient, should be criogenically frozen in a football museum somewhere." "baby i pray every day she doesn't inherit your sense of humour, i don't think i could handle two of you it would drive me to insanity." "mary!"

~

"sit love! i'll get it." your wife remanded as the doorbell rang, rolling your eyes with a small smile as you sat back down, hearing her footsteps hurry off toward the door.

"where is she? where's my little niece? her favourite aunty is here!" "you wish you were her favourite tooney, she won't even pay you a second glance once she see's her godmother is here!" "she's one month old she won't care about either of you, and she's finally been sleeping for more than twenty minutes so shut up, the pair of you!"

you heard the girls before you saw them, hearing mary harshly shush them and a loud smack echo out where she'd clearly whacked one of them, ella whining as she entered the room.

"muuum she hit me!" the midfielder pouted in your direction as you chuckled and opened your arms, the younger girl collapsing into them as you wrapped her in a hug. "stop hitting the kids babe!" you teased your wife, alessia lifting your arm and tucking herself into your other side.

"i'm too young to have three kids." the woman mumbled, rubbing at her temples with an overdramatic sigh. "aw great now she's disowned us!" ella continued sending you a cheeky grin. "baby thats not very nice, say sorry to the girls. you know you love them!" you wound up your wife who shook her head, biting back a smile.

"i am going to check on our actual daughter." mary announced with a roll of her eyes, disappearing out of the room. "i love you babe!" you sung out after her with a smile, hearing her grumble as her footsteps faded away.

"so how are you feeling? we've missed you!" alessia asked as ella nodded eagerly, the two of them not moving from where the three of you were wrapped up together in a hug. "yeah mary runs a tight ship! told us we wasn't even allowed to facetime you until she said so." ella pouted with a huff as you ruffled her hair.

"i feel heavy, tired, fat. i haven't slept properly since she arrived, the bags under my eyes have bags, and i think this is the only jumper i currently own which doesn't have sick or some sort of bodily fluid on it." you paused to chuckle and look down at the faded red material covering your body.

"but she's also the best thing that has ever happened to me. i love her so much i would die for her in an instant, her tiny little fingers and toes and her squishy little cheeks man. she's got me and mary by the throat!" you teared up, overwhelmed by the love you felt for your daughter as both girls either side of you aweed and hugged you tighter.

"speaking of, look who just woke up." ella and alessia's heads whipped behind them with wide eyes as mary returned, gently cradling your new born daughter in her arms. "oh my god she's tiny." alessia whispered with a small squeal of excitement, marys face melting into a soft smile seeing the obvious excitement from the two girls.

"do you both want a hold?" your wife offered, eyes flickering toward you as you nodded encouragingly, knowing how much it worried her to have anyone that wasn't the two of you to do so, but you were working through it together.

"shit but how do you do that? don't they have like no bones? and their heads are soft like jelly? their skulls are like-" ella began to panic, rubbing her palms on her shorts. "language around the baby el!" you warned, shoving her shoulder as she hastily apologized.

"yes they are very fragile, but if you want to hold her i'll show you how." you smiled reassuringly, watching the cogs turn in her head. "less can go first!" she decided as you glanced to the blonde on your other side who was busy staring adoringly at the little bundle of limbs in your wifes arms.

"less?" "hm?" "do you want to have a hold?" "oh yes please."

"okay, sit back and get comfortable." you ordered softly as you stood and mary carefully handed you your daughter, pressing a kiss to your cheek and tenderly stroking your daughters hand with her thumb.

"are you okay? its fine if you need some time, they say it normally takes around five minutes to be properly comfortable with holding a newborn baby." mary checked in with the younger blonde who nodded that she was ready.

"so the most important thing is to support the head and the neck." mary started to explain, taking a seat beside alessia who nodded, following her every word. "so very carefully take her-" mary continued as you gently handed over the baby to the striker.

"breathe less." you chuckled as she exhaled shakily, almost trembling as she very gently took your daughter from you, mary shuffling closer to help her adjust.

"so you want her stomach to always be angled toward you, and her back will rest on your forearm. then you'll support her head in the crook of your elbow and your hand can rest there-" mary gently moved alessias arm as ella watched on in awe.

"-and now you're holding her less." mary smiled proudly, squeezing her shoulder and shuffling back a bit as alessia looked up at you in shock. "wow!" ella breathed out in shock. "you're a natural less." the girl complimented as alessias eyes dropped back down to the newborn cradled in her arms.

"this is so weird, like im holding a whole human right now." "yeah its a bit overwhelming at first but you're doing great less."

"hi gorgeous i'm alessia. i'm your godmum but you can just call me aunty lessi!" the blonde smiled as you sat down on marys lap, feeling her arms wrap securely around you as she pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder before resting her chin there, both of you watching on fondly as ella began to interact with your daughter who was tucked up securely in alessia's hold.

"have you accepted we've got three daughters now?" you quietly murmured to your wife with a teasing smile, pecking her lips and feeling her body vibrate under yours with a soft chuckle.

"yeah, i think i have."

[blindmagdalena]

Heeyy a bit of a self indulgent ask here but I had a phobia/trauma trigger today and it caused me to have a messy sobbing panic attack. Do you have anything on how Homelander would deal with his s/o having a panic attack like that? almost completely inconsolable. I know this is self serving and indulgent and I’m sorry for over sharing homelander is a comfort character for me and you write him exquisitely. If you’re not comfortable with this just ignore

Homelander was sixteen when he had his first panic attack. He'd flown further and faster away than he'd ever had the freedom to and collapsed in a dense woodland, sobbing and rocking his body against the cool forest floor.

He'd pulled his hair so hard it should have come loose, grit his teeth so tightly they should have cracked, and choked so badly on his own constricting throat that it should have caved in.

They didn't. He's invulnerable, after all. As solid as marble.

It was the first attack, but not the last.

That's how he recognizes it so quickly in you.

"Hey," he says, ears attuned to the rabbit-like pound of your heart. "Heyy, hey, it's okay. I'm right here, you see me? Hey." He's only just found you, he doesn't know yet what your trigger was, but he can ascertain that later.

Your staccato breaths and sharp sobs, the sea salt smell of tears streaking your cheeks, are nearly enough to rouse his own panic by proxy. He needs it to stop. He needs you to stop. He cares about you too much for you to scare him like this.

"Hey, you hear me?" He asks, cupping either side of your face. You can't answer through it. Your tongue is gnarled with panic and you're sobbing so hard he fears you'll choke yourself on it. He's not even sure you see him.

He takes you into his arms, one moving smoothly around your waist while the other cups the back of your head. He holds gently at first, grip gradually tightening, compressing your body against his in the hopes that the hammer of your heart will meet and match the steady beat of his own.

"Sssshhhhhhh," he shushes by your ear, lifting you just enough to keep you on your feet, but take from you the weight of your own body.

"I've got you. Whatever it is, it's okay. It's okay. I've got you. M'gonna take care of it, alright? Ssshh," he says, rocking you the same way he used to rock himself in the corner of the bad room, soothing himself with the thump of his own skull against those sterile white walls.

He knows it's working when you slip your arms around him in turn. He continues to hush you, whispering more honeyed assurances in your ear, the core sentiment always the same.

I'm here. You're safe. I love you.

It's everything he can think that he always wanted to hear in these moments of raw, horrifically human weakness.

Eventually, your breaths begin to even out, though your heart continues to thunder in his ears, still convinced that the danger hasn't yet vanished. He tries not to take that personally and scoops you up the rest of the way into his arms.

"That's it, just like that," he coos, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. "Breathe. Breathe. Good... Light as a feather now, okay? Like you can fly," he tells you, sharing the greatest comfort he's ever known. His only real escape has always been his weightlessness, the ability to shed gravity at will. He uses his strength in an attempt to share even a sliver of that sense of freedom with you.

Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't. All he knows is that your heart starts to slow alongside the flow of your tears. He kisses your wet cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your forehead. He whispers praise and love with each one, voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry," you choke out. He's appalled that would be your first instinct.

"Don't," he says firmly, though his voice is still low. "Don't. I can carry it for you. Carry you. What's the point of super strength otherwise?" He murmurs, a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

You almost smile back, and that's enough for him. He kisses the crease between your brows until it smooths, and the highs of your cheeks until the tears dry up, and your lips until they're ready to speak again.

He'll hold you for as long as it takes your body to realize the threat was only ever in your mind, and that there isn't a thing in this goddamn world he would ever let hurt you.

[catgirlforeskin]

Since Wizards of the Coast is torpedoing all the good-will they have with DnD to wring more money out of it, I want to make a guide for people who recognize they should jump ship, but don’t know alternatives.

If you’re deeply invested in DnD and want something as similar as possible, Pathfinder 2 is what you want. It’s the next biggest game in the tabletop scene (in the US), you can find physical copies in stores easily, and Paizo allows free resources online to exist without constant threat of being taken down like WotC does. It will remain free to play on any VTT while DnD will require you to subscribe to their proprietary one.

Most importantly, though, it improves on almost every aspect of DnD. Combat and class balance is extremely well thought out and makes all combats engaging and difficult in a fun way, requiring teamwork and clever thinking. Roleplay is integrated into character creation and play better, and you no longer have to choose between being good in combat or exploration or roleplay, you get to play and feel useful during all aspects of the game. It’s hard to emphasize how much better it is without just playing, if you still want something like DnD, play Pathfinder 2.

If you like high fantasy adventuring but are willing to get more out there, Fellowship and Dungeon World are good options. Fellowship is a more free-form adventure game focused on creating a cinematic experience over getting bogged-down in rules-heavy play. If you want to play a Lord of the Rings style campaign and have it feel like the movies, Fellowship is the way to go.

Dungeon World is called “Powered by the Apocalypse” which means it was inspired by Apocalypse World, an amazing ttrpg that revolutionized the scene and became the gold standard for interweaving roleplay and gameplay. Dungeon World is meant to be a bridge between DnD and indie rpgs, and it’s good for that, though there are better PbtA games. It’s a good introduction to principles like failing forward and playing to find out what happens (and hell, a good introduction to games having principles lol). There’s also an Avatar the Last Airbender licensed PbtA game that’s very good, if that’s your thing!

Speaking of licensed games, Free League Publishing sets the benchmark for rpgs built for existing intellectual properties, and while I haven’t played all of their games, I’m a big fan of what I have played. They also have independent settings, like Twilight 2000, a really good apocalypse survival game set in a collapsing warfront between an alternate-history NATO and Soviet Union as the two dying empires bring all of society down in their death spiral. I’m using it as the base for my Halo rpg, it’s very good.

Blades in the Dark is another big name in the indie scene, and for good reason. It’s a heist game that has been adapted to lots of other settings (games that say they’re “Forged in the Dark” take inspiration here) and it’s clear to see why so many have used it as a foundation once you’ve played, it’s an exciting crime procedural where you play a group of scoundrels punching above your weight and facing the consequences

There’s a million other amazing rpgs I could mention here, and I’m sure people will talk about plenty of lovely ones I’ve missed in the notes, but I think the most important thing I want to convey with this is that there’s a whole world of diverse and interesting rpgs at all levels of production, from big corporate teams to one girl with a laptop who barely knows how to make a pdf, and there’s no better time to start exploring them.

A common refrain is that DnD can be modified to do anything, but once you’ve played other rpgs you’ll see why that’s not true, and why those creative efforts would be better spent in other systems. Hacking rpgs is as old a tradition as rpgs themselves, but if the only tools you know are DnD, you’re being limited with what you can create more than you could possibly know. There’s no better time to leave this Plato’s Cave and see the beauty and wonder of the whole ttrpg scene

[lulublack90]

Prompt 5 - Awful First Meeting

@wolfstarmicrofic May 5, word count 688

Sirius spied him from across the room. There were much more attractive people at the party but something about him caught his eye. He watched him for a while, scoping him out. The man wandered near the wall and Sirius made him move. 

He slid up to the tall man and braced his hands either side of him against the wall. 

“Hi there sexy, how’s it going?” This move had a 100% success rate for Sirius. Once, they got a look at his pretty face, and he turned on his charms. They were putty in his hands. This time, however, backfired spectacularly. 

The man tensed and then, with strength that surprised Sirius, shoved him away before shouting. 

“Fuck off!” Silencing the party as he stormed out of the room. A few of the party goers stared at him and snickered to each other, but most just went back to dancing. 

Regulus’s best friend, Barty, sidled up beside Sirius. 

“Yeah, that’s Remus. He doesn’t like it when people box him in, breathe his air or basically get in his space.” 

“No shit,” Sirius glowered at him. Barty didn’t even bat an eyelid. Instead, he ran a finger down Sirius’s arm and said, 

“But I’m all about being shoved up against walls.” He winked at Sirius as he rejoined the party, getting lost in the crowd. Sirius was mad, but he was not that mad. No way could he handle Barty’s craziness on top of his own. 

He ran out of the room, hoping to find Remus and apologise. 

“Hey!” He yelled down the street at the retreating figure. “Hey, wait up!” Remus didn’t slow down. Sirius was out of breath by the time he caught up with his long strides. “Hey. I’m. Sirius.” He gasped between breaths. “I. Just. Wanted. To. Apologise. For what. I did. Back there.” He pointed in the general direction of the party. 

“Don’t care.” Remus said coldly as he folded himself into an ancient Vauxhall Corsa and sped away. 

“Do you want his number?” Evan said, popping out of the bushes. Sirius jumped out of his boots. 

“What the fuck, Evan! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” Sirius clutched his chest. Evan’s mouth spread into a toothy grin. 

“Nope, just trying to steal your boots!” He bent down and snatched them up as he ran back into the party. Sirius didn’t even bother chasing him down, he’d get them back eventually. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. His night was not going to plan. 

He was about to head back into the party and find out what Evan had planned for his poor boots when a car stopped beside him. 

“Were you just mugged?” Remus asked, after rolling the window down. Sirius barked out a laugh. 

“No, it was just Evan. I’ll get them back.” Sirius thought while he had Remus’s attention he’d push his luck. “So can I get your number then? I really would like to make up for that disastrous introduction in there.” He put on his best, 'I’m sorry, please love me' face, and Remus gave in. 

“Fine, give me your phone.” Sirius gleefully unlocked it and handed it over. Remus reached a hand out of his window and took it. 

“Gee,” He said, smiling wickedly. “It sure would be a shame if you were mugged twice tonight,” And he sped away, cackling. 

“OI!” Sirius yelled as he chased after the car in his socks. The car stopped halfway down the street and Sirius collapsed in the open window, reaching in to take his phone back. He couldn’t even get mad because the smile that greeted him made it all worth it. 

“Go get your shoes, and you can treat me to a McDonald's.” Sirius didn’t waste any time and rushed back into the party, tackled Evan to the ground, took back his boots, waved at his brother and almost dived head first into the little car. 

As Remus pulled away from the kerb, Sirius thought maybe his terrible night would turn around. That was until he found out how much Remus could eat.    

[brainddeadd]

Deck the Malls with Chaos and Hockey Boys

Christmas shopping with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be fun—until the second you walked into the mall. Jack Hughes sprinted off toward the tech store without warning, Luke Hughes wandered toward the shoe section, and Dawson Mercer decided it was a great time to challenge a mall Santa to a race through the food court.

Nico Hischier pinched the bridge of his nose, already exasperated. “We should’ve split into groups.”

“But then you wouldn’t get to babysit us all,” you tease, adjusting the Santa hat Dawson had perched on your head earlier.

Nico gave you a flat look. “Trust me, that would’ve been a gift.”

You grin. “Come on, Captain Grinch. It’s Christmas shopping—how bad can it be?”

Nico’s skeptical silence tells you everything you need to know: It’s going to get worse. Much worse.

The chaos starts almost immediately. Jack vanishes into the tech store, and by the time Nico catches up to him, Jack’s holding a drone, wireless speakers, and some kind of robot vacuum.

“Jack, we don’t need that,” Nico groans, tugging the vacuum box from his hands.

“But it’s on sale!” Jack protests, like that justifies everything. “We could totally use it for—”

“No.”

Nico steers Jack out of the store before he can cause any further damage, just as Luke texts the group chat: at Foot Locker, lost dawson

You snort and hold your phone up to Nico. “We already lost Mercer.”

“Great,” Nico mutters. “This is why I wanted to split up.”

After managing to extract Luke from the shoe store (he still bought two pairs of sneakers, claiming they were necessities), you finally track Dawson down near the food court.

He’s standing next to a very tired mall Santa, grinning ear to ear. “What took you guys so long?”

“What did you do?” Nico asks, voice full of dread.

“We had a race,” Dawson says proudly, still catching his breath. “He’s fast for an old guy.”

Jack elbows him, laughing. “Santa smoked you, huh?”

“He’s got magic powers,” Dawson replies solemnly.

Nico shakes his head, clearly regretting every life choice that brought him here. “Let’s focus, please. We’re here to shop, not race Santa.”

As you make your way through the mall, the boys drift in and out of stores, each contributing to the mayhem in their own way.

Jack keeps disappearing, popping back up with random gadgets that no one asked for. Luke insists on trying on every jacket in sight, modeling them with exaggerated poses. Dawson is too busy testing out every scented candle to be of any real help.

You, on the other hand, are laser-focused on your mission: getting gifts for the team—and Trevor Zegras.

Jack notices you lingering by a display of hockey pucks with a grin on his face. “What are you looking for, Y/N?”

You shove the small box into your bag before he can get a good look. “Nothing. Just… thinking about Trevor.”

Jack groans dramatically. “Why are you even getting him anything? He doesn’t deserve it.”

“He’s your best friend,” you remind him with a playful nudge.

Jack narrows his eyes but doesn’t argue, which is about as close to acceptance as you’re going to get. “Fine. But if you get him something nice, I want the best present.”

By some miracle, you manage to finish most of your shopping without losing anyone—or getting kicked out of the mall. Your bags are heavy with presents for the team, including a particularly ridiculous one for Trevor.

“So… what’d you get Zegras?” Luke asks as you all collapse into a booth at the food court for a much-needed break.

You grin mischievously. “A clown keychain.”

The boys erupt into laughter. “Perfect,” Jack says through a snort. “He’ll love it.”

Dawson leans back in his chair, still chuckling. “We should wrap it in, like, ten layers just to mess with him.”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing that,” you say, already planning the elaborate wrapping job in your head.

After refueling on greasy mall food, you all head back toward the parking lot, bags in hand. Jack insists on carrying most of yours, despite your protests.

“It’s the least I can do,” he says with a grin. “You’re our baby sister, after all.”

You roll your eyes but let him carry the bags. “I’m literally on the team with you, Jack.”

“Yeah, but you’re still the youngest.” He winks. “And we gotta protect you.”

As you all pile back into Nico’s SUV, the boys start bickering over which Christmas movie to watch when you get back to the team house.

“Home Alone,” Jack insists.

“No, Elf,” Dawson counters.

“Die Hard counts as a Christmas movie,” Luke chimes in, earning groans from everyone else.

Nico sighs, starting the car. “We’re watching whatever Y/N picks, end of discussion.”

You grin, feeling a warm sense of belonging despite the chaos. “Fine. But we’re not watching Die Hard.”

As the SUV pulls out of the mall parking lot, snow starts to fall softly outside. Jack leans over from his seat, nudging your shoulder. “So, what’d you get me?”

You smirk. “You’ll find out on Christmas.”

Jack groans dramatically, but there’s a fond smile on his face. “It better be good.”

And as you drive through the snowy streets, surrounded by your chaotic, ridiculous teammates, you realize that this Christmas—gifts, madness, and all—is already shaping up to be perfect.

[fawnsflowerbed]

His One Weakness || Part 2

Find part one here!

You’ve been beside Leon for as long as you could remember, but you both quietly yearn for more. Until a trip to Spain turns your world upside down and forces feelings out.

Warnings/content: RE4R Leon, fem reader, 2nd person (you/yours), violence and slight gore (obviously), swearing (also obviously), angsty yearning, two idiots in love.

Word count: 4,400 est.

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What you really wouldn’t give to be back at the shooting range right now. 

After an overall disastrous fight against a crowd of ganados to get a bridge down - obviously including some lovely ladies with chainsaws - and a near impossible fight against two El Gigantes, you felt just about ready to fall on your ass and take a five hour long nap. Strenuous labour was always expected in this line of work. Taking down monsters four times the size of you? A bit of a surprise. 

It was worth it in the end, though. Hand heavy with the dynamite you’d swiped during your dangerous journey deeper into the mineshaft. Knife blade dull from being boosted up by Leon to stab at the parasites poking out of the giants. Door swinging open thanks to Luis on the other side. It all still hurt like a bitch though, especially after getting backhanded into a wall by one of the giants. And climbing stairs with an injury like that? An absolute nightmare. Sure listening to a brief history on the religion suffocating the small town helped ease the pain, but what you wouldn’t give to slow down for a second.

The job description couldn’t have been further from the truth; get in, rescue the President’s daughter, get out. You should have read the fine print, squinted between the lines to decipher each lie. Should’ve known it wouldn’t have been easy, not in this field of work.

“I think my spine’s about to collapse in on itself.” You puffed out, wheezing, fighting with your oesophagus to take in any type of air no matter how smoggy. Arms leaned against the safety rails of the platform. The top of the staircase was as good a spot as ever to stop, it seemed. It gave the three of you some time to get your heads on straight.

 A leather clad hand in fingerless gloves passed you a vial of crushed herbs mixed with water.

Leon offered you a smile that was obviously masking his amusement. “Bottoms up.”

Taking the vial with a snort, all you could do was sigh. Time to take the usual steps. Give it a quick shake in hopes of making it taste just a little better. Unscrew the lid. Drink it down and hope the taste doesn’t have you gagging. No matter how many times you’d done it it still tasted just as horrible and went down just as hard. Yes, it was literally leaves and water. But what you wouldn’t give for even a drop of alcohol, maybe something sweet, to help soften the blow. A hoarse cough flew out of your throat while you punched at your chest to get the remaining herb down. Then you sighed again. “I hate my life.”

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it.”

“Will I though?”

“Probably not.” He gave you a soft punch to the shoulder as a sign of reassurance. Your usual action used to tell one another to keep your heads up. Starting at boot camp, continuing in times of peril. Times like this one.

The rest of the journey seemed to be fairly tame, walking up through another mineshaft tunnel dug out in the dirt and stone, supported up by shaky beams. More discarded crates, bags and barrels could be found, it was almost hard to not trip on them. Despite the town looking so small and vulnerable when you’d first arrived, it most definitely ran deeper than you expected it to. Yet again so did the mission. If you knew you’d soon end up in a castle you would have packed your finest ball gown (ha). 

As you got to the end of the shaft and shuffled through the stone archway all three of you were hit with an overhead spotlight. It was shining down onto a rickety looking minecart rail. The whole interior was much bigger than you were expecting it to be, with reinforced roofs and walls, and carved out brick blockings that had been worn down from years of support. The place had clearly been used many times before. Skulls mounted on wooden posts like not-so-subtle warnings to outsiders, a tipped over minecart left to the dirt. A few buckets and wheelbarrows, and some obviously rushed fences tied together with coarse rope. You were surprised some of it was still standing. You felt like a mere speck in comparison to the size of the room’s interior.

The real star was that track though. Leading into a tight tunnel that would surely drive you to more fighting to get back to the surface. It was an easier option than walking, though, and it also seemed to be safer than any other way. From here you could see what looked like steel beams holding up the top of the shaft. This track was obviously used often, which meant it was reliable. What kind of idiot would refuse such an opportunity?

“You’re not suggesting we ride this thing?” 

Leon. Of course Leon would refuse such an opportunity. Or at least try to, anyway. At first he was sceptical.

“Do you see any other way?” Luis asked. There was a clear mock curiosity in his tone; he knew this was the only real solution to getting out of here.

You, on the other hand, were already looking down at the cart mounted up onto the rails. Despite the rusted edges and one of the wheels being slightly out of line it seemed fairly safe. A quick nod of approval.

“It’ll hold us, we’ll just have to be careful on any turns.”

Luis clapped his hands together in celebration, just once. A small sign of a clear win. “Then let’s make haste! To  Princess Dulcinea!”

Everyone else was in clear agreement, all that was left was Leon. He put his hands up for a quick moment of surrender. “Fine. Not like we have a choice. Let’s go.”

With one last final assessment of his resources - scanning over how many herb vials he had left along with his ammunition - Leon gave his sore shoulder a quick roll. His left one to be exact. The one he told you about, when he’d gotten shot back in Raccoon City for all of the wrong reasons. Every now and again you couldn’t help but notice how he gave his hand a quick shake, like the ends were starting to flare up again, fraying to an awful fuzz. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had nerve damage from the incident. 

“Shoulder playing up?” Your voice had an edge of worry.

“Just a bit. I’ll be alright.”

Part of you believed that, the other part didn’t. Leon wasn’t one to openly talk about his pain, be that either mental or physical. He never had been. Shrugs of disinterest, half-smiles biting at his lips. He didn’t like showing it. Maybe someday he’d finally knock down some of those walls for you. Rebuild a few arches so you could walk right in, carve out the holes for windows so the select few could peek at his true self.

He was waiting for that day just as much as you were.

Hopping down onto the rickety track with a soft clunk, Luis was quick to hustle himself up and into the car. Just like you and Leon, he was ready to get out of here. Practically shaking with adrenaline. At this point you may as well have attached him to the back of the cart to shoot you down the mines like a rocket. He definitely had the energy for it.

Leon, however, was clearly teetering on that edge of indecisiveness still. Was this really the best he could do? No other way to get back to the surface?

No turning back now. Not from the way you were looking at him, anyway. 

When would you learn to stop staring into his soul like that? Big round eyes boring through his skull so it might crush into pure ivory powder. The once mighty Leon S. Kennedy had fallen prey to his one weakness.

You.

“Will you be alright sitting in the back?”

You couldn’t help but soften out at his words. For someone who claimed to have changed so much he still had the time to ensure your safety and comfort no matter how harsh the scenario.

But where was the fun in that?

So in return you offered up a rather rough pat on the shoulder.

“If anything I’ll be thankful, less axe-wielding maniacs to stare at. That’s all you now, squire!” You grinned at him. Leon looked far from impressed, in fact on the very opposite end of that feeling.

“C’mon, not you too.”

“Has a nice ring to it, can’t help it.”

The blonde scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

Once you’d dumped your case of gear into the bottom of the cart and ensured Leon was fine having his ass planted on scratched leather, you were getting ready to leave.

“Give us a push, Sancho!”

“Who’re you calling ‘Sancho’?”

“Offer on Rocinante still stands.” You grinned, foot outstretched to hop off the wooden ledge. 

“Ha. Hilarious.”

Finally you could make some ground, finally you could get one step closer to rescuing Ashley and going home. You could almost smell the overpriced aeroplane snacks from here, the plans for when you returned running rampant in your head.

You’d help clean Luis’ record and find him a good spot in a research team, somewhere safe on the sidelines. You could already see him getting along with the rest of the crowd thanks to his charisma and enthusiasm.

As for you and Leon, maybe one of you would finally grow a pair and ask the other out. Maybe lunch, maybe dinner, you’d even settle for a walk in the park at this point. You just wanted to be closer. 

But just as you went to jump down onto the tracks and follow, something reached out and grabbed you. Harsh hands gripped your shoulders and dragged you backwards away from the tracks.

Not knowing how else to react you yelped out in surprise, foot kicking backwards to knock your attacker away. An instant struggle.

You never were one for environmental awareness. 

Leon’s voice shouting your name broke through the mineshaft, drowned out by the frantic raving of the ganado you’d now shoved. He was already reaching for his pistol. Running up to disarm them would’ve been too risky with the cart already making a slow start. If he got too sloppy they’d all lose their chance. He just couldn’t risk it no matter how hard his head was yelling ‘help her’. He knew you knew that too.

Between the chaos none of you were aware that Leon’s leaning on the cart for support made it start moving. Slow at first, hardly a shove, but it’d managed to budge the wheels.

“¡Oye! Where do you think you’re going?” Luis yelled his question to you from within the minecart, tugging on Leon’s arm to signal they were approaching the beginning of the mineshaft.

“It’s fine! I’ll grab the derailed cart. We’ll meet up at the next stop!” With one swift kick your attacker was thrown backwards enough for you to get a grip on things. It was too dangerous to try and catch up now, and you didn’t trust running on the tracks this high up. You had to see your plan through. 

“Stay safe!” Leon called out, watching you turn to offer him a half-smile.

“Aye aye, captain.”

Just as you sliced through the ganado’s jugular you could make out the faint sound of their conversation. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this..” That same tone of his. Begrudged, in awe of himself really. Maybe in true disbelief of doing this without you.

“Hey, we’re in a hurry, right? Sooner we’re there, sooner we see her. Oh, by the way…”

“What now?”

“Hope you like thrill rides!”

You couldn’t help but scoff to hold back a giggle at the sound of Leon yelling out in shock and surprise when the cart hit an obvious dip. Luis didn’t seem too phased by it - if anything you thought you could hear him laugh. Those two were an unusual pair. 

Maybe staying back wasn’t so bad after all. This way you were less likely to experience blockages or unwanted attention on your journey to the next stop. True, that was a stretch (thanks to your awful luck) but there was no harm in having a little hope.

You’d spotted your derailed transportation when you’d first stepped onto the rickety wooden platform, sat just behind the shoddy fencing and left to rust. Now was its time to shine. 

Pulling the tipped over cart upright was easier than expected, it’d looked heavier than it actually was. Fairly smaller, potentially faster compared to the larger one the boys had taken. It was probably a storage cart of some kind, one they’d hook onto the back of the main cars for things like coal. You’d fit though, and likely pick up some speed, meaning you’d reach Leon and Luis in no time. 

Clunking harshly against the rails of the tracks, you lined up the shaky wheels just right. You knew your job was done when a few stray sparks flew from the steel. Finally things were going your way. With a quick swing of your arm, you let your attaché case sit at the bottom of the minecart, giving it a nudge to see if the wheels worked. Sure enough they squealed out in protest, but that didn’t stop them from moving along the rail by a few inches. Bingo. A harsh tug backwards had it stalling to a stop. Now you were getting somewhere. Retrieving your knife from the corpse back up on the platform had you feeling pretty confident in your chances.

Past tense was important in this situation. Things quickly went wrong. Something moved somewhere. You didn’t know where, couldn’t spot much change in where you stood. That definitely wasn’t a rat though. 

All air was knocked from your body when a hard arm was thrusted against your gut, winding you. Pain shot through your whole body, eyes scrunching. With a groan you doubled over onto one knee to clutch at your stomach.

Someone was still here with you.

And they were laughing at you. Cackling.

“Well, if it isn’t the most promising newbie in my squad.”

That voice. That fucking voice mocking you like it had so many years ago. The one that belonged to heavy scars and the raining of bullets. Added insult to injury in your military training. 

No. Surely not. It couldn’t be. They picked you up by the back of your shirt, twisting it to hold you like one would a wet cat.

“Never were one for environmental awareness, were you?”

A harsh toss sent you back to the solid rock of the platform, your clothes skidding roughly across the ground.

Your eyes were shot wide in disbelief, in fear.

The person that led you on endless missions through an overgrown environment, void of hope and packed with constant challenges. Who was with you when you’d barely survived once, fighting for your lives in the jungle. 

“Major Krauser? What are you- But, how? Why?”

You’d wept over this man, you’d been told of his presumed death after the incident associated with Operation Javier. A crash, a slip up, something that went wrong. Something that led to a corpse they called his. They deemed it was him, dental records and all.

You were stupid enough to believe it. 

“Oh y’know. Just thought I’d do a little pest control.”

But this man was so clearly alive and kicking, not a bead of sweat, not a shake of nerves in his body. All you could see was a knife in his hand, a large jagged scar down the left side of his face, and a pair of bloodshot eyes set on one thing.

“There’s been these three rats really getting on my fucking nerves.”

Killing you.

Rolling to your side gave you some time to get your footing, but it also gave you more room. This was definitely not the ideal place to be fighting for your life. Not against someone like your Major. 

This felt wrong. He was dead, you’d attended the wake. The funeral too. All you knew was he’d died in some type of accident some time after, the details had never been explicitly given to you. Something the government refused to tell any of you, Leon included. 

Spitting your blood into the dirt, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Not anything new. Your lips fell into a grimace. “I won’t fight you, Major. You know I won’t. This isn’t you and you know it.”

“That was always your biggest weakness, newbie. You’re vulnerable, you’re emotional. And it’s going to get you killed!”

Krauser made a quick dash towards you to throw you a forceful kick, giving you an opening to duck under his leg and slide across the waitpoint. Crouched down with a hand planted on the ground, you gritted your teeth. That’s what he hadn’t taken into consideration; you could match his pace if he got too cocky. But you’d been taught to do the exact opposite. His laugh was bitter when he skidded to a quick halt.

“Good. You haven’t lost your edge.”

“And you haven’t lost your dick attitude.”

He simply sneered at you. Snapped like a rabid dog. “C’mon, fight back! Give me some kind of struggle. Put your training to use and I might take pity on you.”

Fine. Not like you had a choice in this anyway. It was either that or have your shit rocked instantly without any fair chance.

Readying the knife from where you had it holstered, you tossed the handle over in your hand, trying to pump yourself up. You needed that extra adrenaline to flow through your veins and wash out any of the parasite at that moment. Maybe if you focused hard enough you could use some of the virus’ strength for your own advantage. Maybe. You took your stance, words spat from your mouth like a spray of venom.

“Fuck it.”

At least you’d die knowing you put up a fight, right?

Yeah. Die with some dignity. Good thinking.

You hadn’t been in a knife duel, not in a long time. You and Leon would spar sometimes to brush up on your skills, watching the quick flicking sparks when blades collided much like yours and Krauser’s currently. Sarcastic banter met with cocky comebacks. A fistbump afterwards.

Only now this was so very real. No hands meeting in truce, only the sharp ringing of your blades. You had to put up some sort of struggle now that you were forced into combat. You weren’t going down without a fight, no matter how ridiculous this felt.. Clearly that’s what your past Major was looking for.

“Ha, that’s more like it!”

A deadly silence fell between the both of you, no sound echoing out into the open air except steel on steel and your rushed breathing between each swing, block and jab. Every dodge you could anticipate, every time you stumbled leading to a harsh cut to the skin. Still you hissed out and kept going.

“Of all the fucking places to see you again. We thought you were dead! I mourned you!” With the way you screamed you were lucky if the rest of the mine didn’t hear it. Every ganado in earshot reaching for pitchforks and axes. But it was true. You’d sat beside Leon for hours as he processed his mentor’s death, not a single tear shed from you nor your partner. He just stared dead ahead, like the ghost of Krauser was standing in front of him and delivering some harsh lecture on how he had to keep moving. His voice was haunting the both of you, just in drastically different ways. Now that same cackling bastard was back from the dead like some off brand grim reaper.

Obviously you were doing better than you thought, because after a quick slash to the arm he was staggered. Your foot collided with his ribs to shove him further away, surprised to not yet hear a crunch or snap. Still nothing. Your boots were steel capped, it was hard not to break a bone. Fuck. He’d gotten stronger.

“And what a fool you were for that.” He spat back at you. With a quick roll of his neck he got right back into battle. It was like your hit didn’t even land.

“Oh get fucked.”

So it was true. Any humanity or honour he once felt had now been sucked from his skeleton, not a bone in his body could care less. Someone you once looked to for answers was now trying to kill you, someone you couldn’t think of hating no matter how hard you tried. He was your Major, he was your teacher, and despite how much of a prick he could be those words of snark and bite encouraged you to keep going. 

The impact of his attacks had you staggering every few steps which gave him an opening to slash at your ankle. And it cut deep, deep enough to throw you off.

“Sloppy!” He snapped.

Blood was good. Blood meant your opponent had a weak point. Blood meant your opponent was mortal, was breathing, and would soon die. Blood meant victory.

Blood was bad. Blood meant your opponent had found a weak point. Blood meant your opponent was focused, was quick, and would soon kill you. 

Blood meant defeat.

Now you couldn’t get a handle on him. Sure, if you got lucky you could overpower Leon a few times. While he was strong, you were fast. Lighter on your feet and harder to catch. If he was a condor then you were a saker falcon, a pair in a two-bird inseparable flock since you’d almost fallen flat on your face on training day. Despite joining later than him and a lot of the others, you tried your best to keep your footing, persevering through thick and thin, mud, rain, and snow. Leon admired it. You admired his grit. Maybe that was your weakness, how easily you found yourself thinking of your mission partner and how far he’d come ever since his stories of the Raccoon City disaster. Maybe your former mentor was right about you.

Krauser was an exception because he was everything both of you were and so much more. It was worse than that though. Whatever they’d pumped him full of made fighting back even harder. He’d fallen for their mutters of salvation and power, clearly working alongside the cultists plotting against the four of you - Luis, Ashley, Leon, and of course you. 

Blood was seeping out into the fabric of your socks and streaming down into your shoe, a painful reminder of Krauser’s upper hand on you.

Every chime of blade rattled your brain into a different moment in your life. Collide. Posing for your FBC photo. Collide. Getting pushed face first into the mud. Collide. Holding back the urge to kiss Leon on the journey back home. Collide. Meeting up before getting deployed to Spain. Collide.

But your muscles were burning. Too used to the sloppy attacks of ganados or a quick parry before a roundhouse kick. Now you were up against someone with equal if not better combat skills.

And he used that to his advantage.

Then it was over just as soon as it had started, in the same way too. An overwhelming pain in your abdomen, his foot swinging right into your stomach with enough force to throw you to the ground with an unsettling crunch. It felt like your organs had been crushed. Knife tossed from your hand thanks to the impact. Your face collided with the coarse, splintering wood of the ground beneath you, blood seeping out into the boards as a permanent stain on the land. This marked where you’d been defeated. Where you’d died. Where you’d failed your mission. Most of all, where you’d lost your chance to so much as ask Leon to dinner.

You knew if Leon saw what had become of your Major he’d react much differently. Try to reason with him mid-fight, tell him he’s been brainwashed or controlled or some other hero complex bullshit that was admired no matter what.

You knew better. 

You could see it in his eyes, the way he showed zero remorse for you. How he spat on the ground as he walked towards you with that look. The same look he gave you when he shoved you into the jungle floor. Trapped in a chilling jolt of deja vu that chose to bare its ugly head in the worst time possible. Wood now felt like coarse mud. Walls turned to pouring rain that drowned out every coherent thought. Limbs sore from fighting for your life replaced with pains from hours of training.

His most promising newbie because they always fought back, right until the end. 

But it wasn’t a knife in his hand anymore. You couldn’t make out what it was through the heavy blur of tears in your eyes. It could’ve been anything - a gun, a grenade, a flashbang. Whatever it was, he was fast approaching you with it. Still trying and failing to recover from his kick at your gut, shaken limbs made an attempt to drag your body towards your discarded blade only to be shoved back down by Krauser’s arm pressing against your windpipe, kneeling next to your defeated, broken body. You felt like a worm, an insect about to be crushed under someone’s boot. You didn’t even have the energy to react to the pain, all you could do was struggle.

“Something tells me we’re gonna have a coward on our hands. If he wants to back down, maybe the rookie needs a little convincing. What do you think, newbie?”

You couldn’t think no matter how hard he pressed. Tired hands clawing at his torn skin. Keratin on flesh with no resistance to muscle. All that came to mind was fighting for your life and Leon’s voice calling your name from a mere few minutes ago. Now your own hoarse response was fighting to come out, a pathetic croak against the painful squeeze on your throat.

All rational thought was focused on the stinging pain in the side of your neck, a tight squeeze of pressure against the skin, and your vision slipping into complete darkness.

[unhingedoveractivemuse]

Title: Because I love you more than a ring

Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Tags: Married Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Notes: Flufftober Day 26 "I can't find it."

==================================

“Maddie, you don’t understand!”

Buck is vaguely aware that he probably looks crazy, frantically going around his home and upturning everything he can. 

“Buck-“

”This isn't like Chimney losing your engagement ring before he even proposed, Madds! I can’t find it! I can’t find my wedding ring!”

“Evan!”

He pauses, the little shock from his sister saying his name stopping him in his tracks. He doesn't remember when the last time she said it was. The only one who ever uses it now is his husband either when he needs something to sink into Buck's head or sometimes when they're having sex (not that he is ever telling his sister that). 

“Calm down,” she coaxes him like a startled animal. “Let’s go back step by step. When was the last time you saw it?’’

========================================

An hour later and still one wedding ring less, Buck sulks on the couch, trying not to spiral and cry, leaning on his sister's shoulder. 

“What if he wants a divorce?”

“Eddie won't divorce you because of a ring, Buck.”

“But I lost our wedding ring,” he whines. 

“I'm sure he loves you more than a ring, and you know that.”

Logically, he does. All of Eddie's loving gestures and words since he finally went to therapy (for his PTSD first but which turned out to be therapy for so much more) tell him that. Eddie doesn't call anyone else ‘sweetheart’ or ‘love’ or ‘mi vida’. He doesn't give them the fondest looks known to man. He doesn't let down his walls with anyone else. He certainly doesn't have sex with anyone else. 

But everything else, his insecure side, is screaming that the whole marriage thing is still new. Nothing has really shifted, of course (because they already acted like a married couple according to all their friends), but it's new. 

Three months. 

Three months since the bridge collapse that almost took Buck's heart with it. Since they were reminded once again of how precious life is, of how the next moment could be their last. Since they threw the wedding plans they had going since Eddie first proposed after Buck woke up from his lightning-induced coma to pull a Bobby and Athena (much to the ire of many people).

Nothing has been more blissful to Buck than married life. He can really call Eddie his, to say he has a home to return to. 

It doesn't mean he's not insecure though. There was a little hiccup when his jealousy of a certain pilot taking up his husband’s time made Buck completely green, only assuaged when his husband reassured him it was only friendship and gave Buck some of the best sex of his life then later by inviting Buck out with them where he ogled his husband with no shame whatsoever

So what if it's too much? What if Eddie realizes that not only is Buck a lot to handle with how needy and jealous he can be but also so forgetful that he lost their wedding ring of all things?! What if he doesn't want Buck anymore?!

“Hey, love, can you get out of your brain for me?”

Buck blinks, staring into beloved, concerned brown eyes.

Oh, when did Eddie get home?

“Hi,” Eddie says, giving Buck one of those sweet smiles that always has Buck melting on the spot. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Give me a million then,” he easily returns, the routine coming with practiced ease considering how often his husband catches Buck with a million thoughts running through his mind. 

Eddie kisses him then, soft and chaste, a quiet ‘I'm home’, and moves onto the couch next to him. “There we go. Now, care to share? Or do I have to pry it out of my dear sister-in-law?”

“You love me more than a ring right?” he blurts out without thinking. 

His husband blinks, confusion clear as day but, without hesitation, says, “Of course I do.”

“Because I-I can't find it Eds. I can't find it.”

“Find what?”

“My wedding ring,” he mumbles, looking away from his husband's eyes, hoping to get away with it. 

There's a beat of silence, and then he hears a snort. 

A snort. 

He turns to his best friend, disbelieving. “It's not funny Eddie! I lost my wedding ring! Our wedding ring!”

“It kinda is, mi vida. Especially since you're freaking out for nothing.”

“For nothing?!” he repeats, somehow not shrieking. It's their wedding ring, for goodness sakes! It's a matching pair!

“Buck, I took it in for maintenance.”

He pauses. He stares. He-

“Huh?”

A short huff of laughter escapes his husband as his brain tries rebooting. Maintenance. 

“Remember when you got a scratch on it last week?”

Of course, he does. He doesn't even know how it got there, but there was a scratch on his wedding ring and it made him distraught. 

At a loss for words, he nods. 

“So I brought it in this morning to get it out,” Eddie says, then reaches into his jacket pocket. “Here.”

There it is. His wedding ring. 

He takes it reverently, immediately sliding it onto his finger where it belongs, settling him. 

“Better?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, running a finger across the smooth metal. “You didn't have to do that.”

“I didn't,” his husband agrees, sliding their hands together. “But I wanted to. It might only be a material thing, but it means a lot to you. And it means a lot to me too.”

Buck smiles, a flood of warmth and love overtaking him, and he settles his head onto his other half's shoulder, truly calming down after a frenzied few hours. 

“But for future reference, if you do ever lose your ring-”

“I won't,” he protests, gently knocking his head into his husband's jaw to emphasize his point. 

“-it doesn't change how I feel about you. I'm not going to break the promise we made years ago and engraved on it. I'm not going to file for a divorce. Because I love you more than a ring. I much rather lose a ring than lose you.”

Love permeates through every pore of his body at Eddie's words, and he can't help the silly, giddy grin that blooms on his face. 

“I love you, too,” he says, pressing his smile into his husband's neck. “Ring or no ring.”

[legacygirlingreen]

Peace || Captain Rex x OFC (Mae Killough)

Pairing: Captain Rex X Original Female Character (Mae Killough); mentions @leenabb104104 's AU verse including Aiko x Echo, Tech x Leena, Wrecker x Chori

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: mentions of former injury, mentions of former clone death, brief mentions of order 66 (but only if you squint), mentions of unnamed character in labor, brief allusions to abusive childhood -- all that said its mostly VERY sweet/wholesome vibes in the midst of some introspection

Edited: 10/24/24

AN: Hi friends! So some of you may know, but I've been doing some collaborating with my friend @leenabb104104 ! This is a short oneshot for her Pabu AU introducing Mae, the doctor on the island! It can be read independently or separately! Overall it's just a sweet, wholesome meet cute for her and a particular captain whom we all know and love... If you wish to see Mae's intro on her account you can find it HERE and if you'd like to read about her being the MOH during her OFC Aiko and Echo's wedding that is HERE! Anyways, hope you like it. Don't be afraid to comment, and if you prefer the AO3 link that's here...

MASTERLIST || Part 2 || Part 3 (coming soon)

Rex always made a point to avoid eavesdropping on Echo’s conversations with Aiko whenever he could. Although he had introduced the two, he respected their privacy. Still, it was difficult not to overhear snippets of their dialogue while they shared the bridge of the small transport ship.

“We're headed back; it shouldn't be more than a few hours before Rex drops me off,” Echo reassured Aiko as a loud swoosh and bang suddenly broke the ambient sounds of the transmission. Rex glanced over, noticing the pale blue image of Aiko’s face turn toward the source of the commotion on her end.

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, sensing the tension radiating from her roommate.

“Labor. Can’t leave. Medical supplies—” came the fragmented response.

“She sounds flustered,” Echo remarked with a chuckle, prompting Rex to lean in slightly, intrigued by the plight of Aiko’s friend. Although he had met the Empath before Echo, he had yet to formally meet Mae, the resident doctor on Pabu. In fact, he had made it a point to avoid lingering on the island, always ensuring he dropped Echo off quickly before returning to one of the facilities he had helped establish for the clones they had rescued.

Rex watched as Aiko opened her arms, and the outline of a woman suddenly collapsed into her lap over the blurry imagery. “I need to head back; I just ran home to grab some clothes to change into later,” she groaned, her voice muffled as her mouth pressed into Aiko’s neck.

“What if I knew someone off-world who could pick up the supplies for you? Would that ease some of the stress?” Aiko suggested, her doctor nodding as she reached for the large clip securing her hair at the back of her head.

Rex observed, fascinated, as the blurry image of curls sprang free, almost cartoonishly, the moment they were released. “Depends on how trustworthy this person is,” she replied skeptically, her hands combing through her hair as she swiftly twisted it back into a tidy bun. Despite her back being turned to the transmission, he couldn’t help but be amazed at how long her hair was and how much space it seemed to occupy. He had never given hair much thought before; to him, it was just a nuisance, something to keep short and practical from all his years in combat. Yet now, he found himself wondering what color the doctor’s hair might be in real life.

“Echo can handle it. You can take care of it, right, darlin’?” Aiko prompted, shifting her attention back to the holopad as the woman whipped around abruptly.

The transmission distorted her features, making it hard to discern the exact shape of her nose or the nuances of her complexion beyond her pale skin. Details like the length of her eyelashes or the presence of freckles were lost in the blur. What stood out, however, were her large, expressive eyes, partially hidden behind comically oversized frames. Her lips were pulled into a shocked expression, full and plush, lending her a sharp yet fair appearance.

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt. I really need to head back anyway—patient in labor!” Mae exclaimed, abruptly standing and moving just out of the recording device's view.

“Mae, slow down—”

“Yes?” She spun around as Aiko pointed at the transmitter, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t you need to tell Echo—”

“The supplies! Right! I’ll have AZI send the coordinates since he usually goes with me to pick them up. Thank you, Echo! Please tell your Captain I’m so sorry for any inconvenience the extra pitstop might cause!” She smiled brightly and dashed off before either of them could respond.

Rex doubted she even caught a proper glimpse of the image on the transmitter. If she had, she might have noticed him barely visible in the corner alongside Echo, and wouldn’t have felt the need to apologize to him. Hearing that concern sparked a light fluttering sensation in his stomach, creeping up his sternum and settling along his neck. It made Rex wonder how much Mae actually knew about him. After all, she had invited Aiko into her home, and she must be familiar with Echo’s frequent departures to assist him and the other clones. That implied she had some awareness of their situation. Yet here he was, knowing little about her aside from the fact that the empath lived with and befriended this intriguing woman.

Silence settled in the wake of the doctor's hasty departure. Eventually, Rex cleared his throat, the lack of conversation throughout the flight leaving it feeling coarse. He meant to ask Echo something, but instead, he found himself asking, “Is she, uh, always like that?”

In unison, Echo and Rex confirmed that yes, the resident doctor was indeed chaotic most of the time. Rex gave a light nod before turning back to the distance transmitter, knowing information about the drop would come soon. He opted to tune out the rest of their conversation, allowing a moment of privacy for the couple.

He couldn’t quite understand why the sight of the frazzled woman with oversized glasses, rivaling Tech’s goggles in diameter, was so perplexing. Perhaps it was his mental image of a doctor who would open her home to Aiko—a figure he’d expected to be more mature, perhaps even older. Instead, here was someone who looked close to his own age. Was it the loneliness he had tried to bury, but which now resurfaced more frequently since Echo’s transmission?

He couldn’t deny that the longing had always lingered, perhaps embedded in his very DNA from Jango. It was a desire that felt intrinsic, something the longnecks seemed unable to resolve. It might have been ignited by his injury on Saleucami, the encounters with Cut and Suu and their children. Rex often reassured himself that he didn’t need what they had, nor what the 99 boys had discovered on the island. He had his brothers and a mission, and that should have been enough… right? Yet he couldn’t shake the realization that it had been a long time since he’d genuinely spent time with a woman.

Recently, the only women Rex encountered were those already involved with his brothers, contacts for assignments, or friends like the Martell sisters and Senator Chuci. All of them felt unattainable, and none turned his head quite the same way.

“You sure it’s not a bother to make an additional pit stop?” Echo asked, pulling Rex from his thoughts. He turned to see that Aiko had ended the transmission.

“No, not at all?” Rex replied, his tone more of a question than a statement, prompting Echo to raise an eyebrow and hum in response. Rex noticed how Echo subtly observed him, taking in the way he straightened his posture and adjusted his collar, then fixed his gaze on the hyperspace lane ahead as if it had suddenly become the most captivating sight in the galaxy.

“Remind me again, what are your plans while I’m back on Pabu for a few days?” Echo inquired.

“Waiting to hear back from my contact about that prison in the Outer Rim, catching up on manuals, keeping the others in line. The usual,” Rex shrugged. He often felt that spending time on Pabu was an imposition on the relaxed life Clone Force 99 had built for themselves, with each of the boys finding their own personal distractions. Given the nature of his work and the responsibilities he felt toward his brothers still trapped under the Empire’s thumb, those distractions felt like a risk. It was why he had erected a mental barrier around such relationships.

“You know, you’re always welcome to spend your downtime on Pabu—” 

“No, no, that’s your home,” Rex interrupted.

“You need to recharge sometime,” Echo insisted.

“I can recharge at our satellite facility,” Rex countered.

“By the time you get there and back, it’ll be a waste of fuel.”

“Still, I don’t want to impose—”

“Rex, we go way back,” Echo said with a sigh, his new hand attachment gripping his brows as he massaged his temples, searching for the right words.

“Pabu is your home, Echo. I don’t mind making an extra pit stop to help someone who does so much for the community where you boys hang up your armor, but that doesn’t mean I need to stay and see it through.” Deep down, Rex understood that lingering and getting close to a pretty doctor wasn’t wise. If she was as busy as Echo often described, she likely felt the same way. As stunning as she was, she probably had her pick of the clones residing there. What if she was already involved with someone?

“Are you even listening to me?” Echo huffed.

Rex knew there was no point in lying, so he simply shook his head.

“One or two days won’t kill you. Besides, we both know the chances of anyone getting us solid information on that prison are slim to none. It’s a waste of fuel. Plus, the others keep pestering me about how you’re doing, especially Aiko. I think she’s worried about you,” Echo said with a playful smirk.

“Why on earth would she be worried about me?” Rex quirked a dark eyebrow, feeling the tension ease as the conversation took on a more lighthearted tone.

“She’s concerned that you’re lonely and overworking yourself. And just in case you’ve forgotten, I can’t lie to her,” Echo reminded him.

“You really had to fall for an empath,” Rex replied, shaking his head. He knew fuel was expensive, and leaving on principle wasn’t exactly a rational decision. Still, he felt himself being swayed; a few days to rest and step away from his worries would be good for his health. He had been waking up exhausted every day, and the moment he slid back onto his bunk, that fatigue wrapped around him like a heavy blanket. Time was wearing him down in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge, from the crick in his back to the persistent tightness in his neck and shoulders.

“Hey now, need I remind you that you’re the one who introduced that empath to me?” Echo interjected, pulling Rex from his thoughts. A slight beep indicated coordinates had been set, and Rex glanced down to see they were already on their way, with minimal delay to their anticipated arrival.

“Fine, it’s my fault. I accept full responsibility. Two days as punishment. That’s all you get.” Rex threw up his palms in mock surrender, while Echo simply rolled his eyes. Sarcasm—something he could definitely blame on the Jedi for teaching him. The thought twisted in his stomach for a moment as he realized that General Skywalker was likely gone, like the others. Just thinking about it made him feel nauseous, but he quickly pushed the thought aside.

“Some sun might do you good, brother. Got the coordinates?” 

With a nod, Rex set the navigation system, and they were off for a quick pickup. In his mind, he could justify the stop; after all, it was to help a woman who dedicated herself to serving others—a sentiment he understood all too well.

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 In a galaxy rife with war, disease, famine, and every imaginable atrocity, being a doctor meant confronting countless unpleasant sights, sounds, and sometimes even smells. So when the rare opportunity to bring new life into the universe arose, Mae found it to be a beautiful kind of labor—a brief moment of light and hope that reaffirmed her decision to leave home and carve out a path in this challenging role.

Running away from home at such a young and vulnerable age to escape the organized crime that plagued her past was no easy feat. Funding her education amid the rising tensions across the galaxy meant taking a transport ship to the heart of the Republic and joining a civilian-based program dedicated to providing aid relief. Through various deployments dealing with natural disasters and minor conflicts, she gained valuable medical training. However, when war broke out and her deployments shifted to accompany clone troopers into combat, the nature of her work turned grim.

Many of her friends and colleagues, who had enlisted during a time of peace, chose to forgo their duties in the face of an intergalactic civil war. This left Mae as one of the few willing to enter dangerous situations to assist the unfortunate souls whose homeworlds were under attack. It also afforded her a level of seniority, as she became one of the longest-serving members of her organization.

That seniority ultimately led her to Ryloth, a battleground marked by one of the war’s most brutal conflicts and the regrettable reason why the Senate-funded relief organization was disbanded. The staggering civilian casualties in combat did not bode well for the politicians. Nor did it reflect positively on the Jedi, who had sent her off-world following a surprise attack that rattled their camp. After months of deployment in Ryloth's canyons alongside clones and rebels, Mae boarded the last shuttle off-world after things took a turn for the worse—a bullet wound to her chest.

Looking back, Mae carried the weight of guilt for being one of the last to see Master Di and his brave clone commander alive. The news of their tragic fate, yet remarkably valiant stand against the droid army, was what accompanied the discharge notice she received the moment she woke up after surgery aboard the Jedi Cruiser.

With nowhere to go upon her arrival at the Republic Capital—barely recovered from her ordeal—she drifted through the galaxy until fate brought her to the tranquil island of Pabu. As the sole doctor there, she finally found the peaceful life she had longed for since childhood, growing up among violent criminals.

The war had never reached Pabu, not until the deserters from Clone Force 99 arrived, seeking solitude just as she had. Even then, it wasn’t their fault that the newly formed Empire was after their familial unit. Once the situation was resolved—by means she never fully questioned—life returned to normal.

A steady stream of clones came through her clinic, rescued from captivity, seeking her help for their aching bodies and lingering injuries from the war. She aided in their recovery, sending them off to new lives. Yet, throughout it all, she never had the opportunity to meet the clone responsible for their rescue, at least not the one orchestrating it.

Aiko had arrived on the island with Echo after nearly a year of the Bad Batch settling in with the locals. Mae had only spoken to Echo a few times, as he was rarely around, often lost among the stars with his former captain. But as her friendship with the kind empath he called “love” deepened, it was only a matter of time before she got to know him better through her connection to Aiko.

They shared stories of their journeys during the war, Mae offering brief glimpses of her own temporary involvement before finding solace in her role as a caregiver. All of this unfolded over evening drinks, yet still, the elusive Captain did not make an appearance. Not that it truly mattered—he was a busy man, after all. From what Echo had shared, he was one of the kindest and bravest people he knew. Still, it would be nice to meet the man responsible for continually dropping new patients at her door.

After finally delivering a child following a grueling forty-three hours of labor, Mae returned to her office, ready to clean up and seek some much-needed rest. Yet, a gnawing feeling crept in—she hated the thought of inconveniencing Echo and his Captain. She would likely never be able to thank him properly, beyond expressing her gratitude indirectly through Echo. Knowing the importance of the work they did only amplified her guilt.

Fortunately, the clinic was close to the shared home she had with Aiko. If she hadn’t been so utterly exhausted, Mae might have recognized the sound of laughter before even reaching the door. Slipping inside, she tossed her glasses onto the table next to the entrance and quietly removed her shoes. The murmurs from the kitchen faded momentarily at her arrival.

“Mae, when was the last time you slept, hon?” Aiko's soft voice called from the kitchen, her gasp filled with concern. Not glancing in that direction, Mae probed at her temple with clammy fingers, finally releasing the clip from her hair and relishing the sensation of her locks flowing free once more. The tight bun had left her with a tension headache, and Aiko didn’t need to ask who had arrived; she could feel Mae's exhaustion rolling off her in waves.

“Fifty-four hours, I believe. Unless you count a lothcat nap in my office between contractions, then it’s twenty-one,” Mae replied, rounding the wall into the kitchen, her fingers shaking loose the remnants of her bun as she realized she had an audience.

“She’s alive after all... You can cancel the search party,” Crosshair smirked, leaning against the counter as he teasingly nudged Mae into the center of their small circle, a toothpick perched between his lips.

“Crosshair is merely attempting humor; there was no actual search party,” Tech interjected, adjusting his glasses. “However, I would recommend some rest, as staying awake for extended periods is unhealthy—”

Mae shook her head at him. “Thank you for the medical advice, Tech. I plan to do just that. I wasn’t aware we were hosting tonight,” she said quietly to Aiko, who looked up sheepishly.

“Something came up that I hadn’t anticipated, so the others decided to gather here. But we’ll keep the noise down if you need to sleep,” Aiko offered, realizing that disrupting her already overworked housemate might not have been the best idea. She silenced that thought when Mae shook her head again.

“It’s fine, really. What’s a few more hours, anyway?” Mae paused before turning toward Tech, cutting off his impending lecture. “Unhealthy, I know. But I promise I’ll be okay. I just can’t guarantee I’ll be my usual lively self.” She yawned, prompting Crosshair to mutter something along the lines of “thank the maker,” only to be playfully slapped on the shoulder by Kay, Leena’s twin sister. The pair launched into a lighthearted banter as Mae walked over to Aiko and Echo.

Surveying the room, she noted that most of their group was present, with only Hunter and Omega missing. Perhaps it was a bit late for the girl. Wrecker and Chori had left Pabu to visit her family, leaving her pup, Muffin, under Leena’s proud care as she chatted with the others. Tech maintained a safe distance from Muffin, referring to the mischievous creature as “a missing finger waiting to happen,” all while holding onto his wife protectively.

“Do I have time to clean up before this... something that came up, or—” Mae began, only to be interrupted by the door slamming open and Hunter’s shout for Omega to slow down.

“Come on, you have to meet Mae too!” the girl’s voice rang out as everyone turned to see a blur of movement, Omega enthusiastically pulling a man through the living room. At the sound of her name, Mae turned, only to find her cheek pressed against a firm chest—plastoid armor, no less. As one might imagine, that wasn’t the most pleasant contact after hours of delivering a baby.

“Oops—” Omega exclaimed, attempting to back away from the collision she had inadvertently caused by misjudging the distance.

“Oh wow—”

“Are you alright—” Mae and the former Captain spoke in unison. In the background, Hunter's reprimand of Omega faded away as Mae and the stranger locked eyes. She pressed her hand to her cheek, feeling the dull throb beneath it, then slowly lowered it as she craned her neck to take in his features.

He was tall, with a face reminiscent of the other clones, yet distinctly different. Mae was accustomed to the standard clone features, but his eyes seemed somehow brighter. The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes were slightly deeper, and his light blond hair was cut very short, forming a halo that contrasted strikingly with his tanned skin.

If anyone had asked, she would have attributed her lingering gaze to a lack of sleep. Yet, staring at the poor man hadn’t been her intent. Mae was all too familiar with the remarkable genetics of Jango Fett, which were indeed impressive, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint why he seemed so much more handsome than the others.

Rex finally had the chance to see the doctor in person, rather than through the grainy image of their ship's transmitter. Her hair was a striking shade of red—not the unnatural hues he often encountered on women planetside or even among his brothers, but a warm, natural tint. Despite her pale complexion, her cheeks held a lovely pink hue. The details that had been lost in the poor transmission blended seamlessly in real life, and he was hit with the realization that she was even more beautiful than he had imagined.

“That looks like it’s going to leave a mark,” Echo joked, drawing their attention as he stood nearby with Aiko. Rex glanced down, and sure enough, a small bruise was already forming just above her cheekbone. “Kriff, I’m so sorry,” he said, his honey-colored eyes meeting hers, noting the unreadable expression in her pale gaze.

“It’s definitely not the worst blow I’ve ever taken. No need to apologize, soldier,” she replied, trying to laugh it off. She looked at Aiko and Echo, clearly expecting an introduction. Assuming he was just another rescued soldier passing through, she was surprised when Echo placed a hand on Rex’s shoulder and turned to her with an explanation.

“Mae, this is my old captain from my 501st days. Rex, this is Mae—” As Echo introduced them, Mae felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. Not only had she just collided with a man’s chest, but this man was Echo’s close friend—the one who worked tirelessly to rescue clones, who had saved Echo’s life from the Separatists, and the very person she had inconvenienced earlier that day.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am,” Rex said, extending his hand. She froze, staring at his outstretched fingers, encased in black gloves. A gentle nudge from Aiko prompted her to respond, and she offered her own hand, which was quickly engulfed in his firm grip.

“You as well. Thank you again for making a pit stop on the way here. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble—” she began, only to have him slip his hand from hers with a chuckle.

“Not at all. Happy to help,” he replied with a polite nod.

“We were thinking of heading to the square for some drinks, if you’re up for it,” Aiko offered. Mae considered it for a moment; as appealing as that sounded, the idea of finally washing up felt even more inviting.

“I might go clean up. I can’t imagine I look fantastic right now. If I’m still standing by some miracle, I can meet you all there,” she suggested, glancing at Rex to gauge his reaction. If she didn’t know any better, he almost seemed disappointed.

“I might do the same back on the ship,” Rex said, only to have Echo shake his head.

“You can use ours. No need to trek all the way down the island for a fresher,” Echo pointed toward Aiko’s room, which had a separate shower stall. He hadn’t had a chance to use it, as Hunter and Omega had dragged him around the island to catch up with everyone else.

“Alright, I guess we’ll both join you in a bit,” Rex said, glancing between Aiko and Echo before turning back to Mae. In the background, the group was gradually settling down, with Omega calling out a cheerful apology after Hunter's grumbled reprimand. Soon, the room filled with laughter and chatter grew silent, leaving Rex and Mae in a quiet, uncertain bubble. The sound of the front door sliding shut prompted them both to speak at once.

“Do you—”

“I am real—”

They both blinked, wide-eyed, momentarily unsure who would continue. Taking a breath, Mae let out a light laugh. “You first.”

Rex shook his head. “No, I insist,” he said, gesturing for her to go ahead, as if his encouragement could coax the words from her.

“I was just going to ask if you needed anything. I was planning to grab some towels from the linen closet, but I wasn’t sure if you needed anything else. We keep quite a bit of spare clothing here since Echo brings troopers through my home,” she explained, stepping toward a slight alcove in the wall. She swung the door open and stepped aside for him to take a look inside.

Rex peered into the small supply closet, surprised by its contents. It wasn’t anything fancy—just spare clothes, toiletries, and assorted items—but the knowledge that these were all set aside for his brothers filled him with warmth. It was comforting to know this kind doctor was caring for them as they transitioned to new lives.

“Oh, that’s uh—” he started, feeling a flush of warmth rise to his cheeks as he took in the sight.

“Take your time. I’ll grab a towel,” Mae said with a slight nod before quietly stepping down the hall. Rex couldn’t help but admire the ease with which she moved through her space. There was a natural grace to her, a combination of swaying hips and light footfalls that lingered in his mind long after she disappeared from view.

Shaking his head, Rex grabbed a bar of soap and a change of clothes while he waited for Mae to return. He figured it was best to leave more supplies for others. When she came back, she wore a warm smile and handed him a simple white towel, pointing him toward Echo and Aiko’s shared room. He hadn’t meant to zone out as she explained how to use the refresher, but the exhaustion in her voice sparked a hint of concern.

“Holler if you need anything, hon,” Mae said, turning to head back to what he assumed was her own space. 

Trudging toward the room, he closed the door behind him and began to shed the armor he’d worn for years. With practiced ease, he undid the latches and set the pieces on the floor, then reached for the top of his black body glove, wincing slightly as he pulled it off over his head.

For a moment, panic set in as he tried to remember how to turn on the water. After a few moments of fumbling, he finally figured it out. The cool air brushed against his bare skin, raising goosebumps, but once the warm water cascaded over him, it felt like pure bliss. Rex couldn’t remember the last time he’d had hot water; lukewarm had become his new normal. The soothing stream worked wonders on his aching joints and tense shoulders, washing away the fatigue as he let out a contented sigh.

Still, he felt a twinge of guilt for indulging in such a luxury. The relief quickly turned into a sense of urgency—how fast could he wrap this up? Before long, he was drying off and getting dressed. That’s when he noticed an unfamiliar sensation. It had been ages since he’d worn civilian clothing, especially anything not designed for protection. Sliding a simple cotton shirt over his body felt oddly liberating, yet strangely foreign.

Returning to the living space, Rex felt a sense of relief without the weight of his armor. The room was empty, but he could hear the water running in the other room, accompanied by Mae's occasional hum echoing through the walls. He hesitated, unsure whether to wait for her or assume she had collapsed into bed. Given the exhausting work of delivering a baby, he wouldn’t blame her at all.

As he padded around the space, he took in the various artifacts that filled it. Houseplants thrived in corners, and paintings adorned the walls—likely created by a local artist. He noticed elements of Echo’s minimal presence among the decor: a few meager belongings from his time as an ARC Trooper, alongside mementos from Aiko’s homeworld. But what caught his eye was a worn white and maroon shoulder pad on a small shelf.

Drawing closer, he recognized the markings. It belonged to the 303rd, who had been stationed on Ryloth during the blockade, following the initial forces' tragic fate. Rex recalled Howser’s vague references to the legion that had come before them, and he felt a familiar pang of sorrow for the 303 and their Jedi leader.

Next to the shoulder pad lay a small photo frame. Curiosity piqued, he tapped the on button and was surprised to see Mae's smiling face among a group of troopers, wearing the standard uniform of the Republic Aid Relief. Though she looked a bit worn and underfed, her beauty shone through.

It had been so long since he’d crossed paths with any of them, particularly after the Senate disbanded the organization early in the war. He recalled Wolffe’s complaints about taking over their responsibilities after a natural disaster on a planet occupied by strange alien reptiles. If his memory served him, it was Ryloth’s failed first invasion that had led to the dissolution of the RAR contracts. Realization dawned on him—if the 303 had originally been assigned to Ryloth, that would mean...

“I like to think it’s important to remember those who have fallen, even if the war is over,” came Mae's soft voice from behind him. Startled, Rex dropped the photo display, guilt flooding through him for having been caught snooping.

“I shouldn’t have—” he began to apologize, but paused at the wave of her hand.

“If I wanted it to remain private, I would have kept it in my quarters or tucked it away somewhere. I don’t treat my past like a well-guarded secret,” Mae replied, bending down to retrieve the tablet and placing it back on the shelf, allowing the image of her among the clones and Twi’lek rebels to be visible once more.

“You were in the RAR,” he stated, more as an observation than a question, his gaze drifting back to her features. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and the mark on her cheek had deepened into a bruise. She looked utterly worn out after the exhausting days she’d faced, yet there was a spark in her eyes that seemed almost out of place for someone who had weathered one of the harshest battles of the Clone Wars.

“I was,” she replied simply, finally tearing her gaze from the memorial to meet his. He, too, looked fatigued.

“I had no idea,” he said, his voice quiet. In truth, there was no reason for him to know about her past. They weren’t friends; they had merely crossed paths. Their connection was tenuous, built on mutual acquaintances. He felt no entitlement to the personal history of a doctor he barely knew. Yet the knowledge that she had chosen to be in the thick of it all spoke volumes. It revealed an unexpected courage and strength he wouldn’t have associated with someone so small and seemingly unassuming.

“I would’ve stayed too, but the moment I woke up from surgery, they handed me discharge papers and said we were no longer needed,” she said, her tone laced with a hint of guilt.

“Surgery?” he asked, aware that Ryloth lacked the sterile environments necessary for such intensive care.

“I got the last shuttle off-world before the blockade went up. It was a surprise attack, and I took a shot to the chest,” Mae explained, her fingers gently pulling down the simple shirt she wore to reveal a pale scar at the top of the valley between her breasts. The sudden flash of skin caught him off guard, and he quickly averted his gaze, a blush creeping across his tanned cheeks. He instinctively rubbed the back of his neck, stealing a moment as she adjusted her shirt back into place.

“Want to know the worst part?” she said, her tone tinged with sadness as his golden eyes returned to her face, curiosity evident. “They just threw us into that situation. We made the best of it, but in the early days, we had no choice. When enough people complained about enlisting during peace, they eventually allowed anyone who wanted out to leave. Yet only a handful of us stayed to see it through. When things got bad, they tossed us aside, saying we weren’t needed anymore. I would’ve stayed. I wanted to stay. I—” She paused, noticing the shock in his expression at her sudden outburst. “I’m sorry. It was so long ago; being angry about it now doesn’t help.”

“No, I understand. More than most would, actually,” he reassured her, though he knew doing so would require confronting the memories he kept locked away— the sorrow of lost brothers, the guilt of surviving, the nagging feeling that he wasn’t doing enough.

“Survivor’s guilt is a relentless burden. As a doctor, I see how debilitating it can be. Almost every trooper who comes through my clinic struggles with it, and I feel like a hypocrite telling them to channel that pain into something productive when I carry my own,” she said, turning away to sit on the sofa. Exhaustion washed over her, and she clasped her hands in her lap, avoiding eye contact.

Rex felt a surge of responsibility—not for the root of her pain, but for bringing it back to the surface. He approached her cautiously, lowering himself to one knee in front of the sofa, careful not to startle her or invade her space. He had experience helping soldiers through shell shock, piecing them back together after battles. But he wasn’t sure how to navigate the vulnerabilities of a civilian, especially when he himself kept his walls up, just as she seemed to. So, he chose a different approach.

“Thank you,” he said simply, placing his hand over hers for a reassuring squeeze. 

Expecting yet another one of those clichéd phrases—“You did all you could” or “You aren’t alone”—her eyes widened in surprise. “For what?” she asked, almost timidly.

“For putting up with all of us. I can’t speak for everyone, but to be cared for by someone who doesn’t have to be kind, who doesn’t have to be gentle, and who actually sees us as individuals means a lot. All I ever wanted was for my brothers to find their freedom and live the lives they dreamed of. I didn’t realize how much Echo was allowing our burden to fall on you,” he explained.

“It’s not really a burden, per se,” she replied, and he let out a reassuring chuckle.

“I know my brothers better than anyone. Trust me, it’s a challenge to keep them in line,” Rex said, grinning as he watched her snicker.

“Then might I inquire…” She leaned in conspiratorially, as if about to share a deep secret. Rex tilted his head to the side, inviting her to whisper. “Does that mean the stubbornness is genetically wired into you all, or is it taught?”

As Rex pulled back, he couldn’t help but notice the grin on her lips and the mischief dancing in her wide eyes. Up close, they looked more blue than the grayish hue he’d perceived from a distance. The recognition of her eye color didn’t diminish the warmth spreading in his chest from her joke—or from the way she was looking at him.

He couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh at her jest as he rose from the floor to take a seat on the couch beside her. Though he knew the others were likely waiting for him, he wasn’t quite ready to leave, especially since she seemed to be running out of energy. Leaning back, he rested his head against the sofa and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

Silence often made him uneasy; it usually heralded enemy strikes, the calm before the storm. Yet, he found the comfortable stillness in the room surprising but welcome. It was a relief to just exist for a moment, free from the burden of what came next. 

He felt a shift beside him and opened his eyes to see Mae had mirrored his position, her head just inches from his. Her eyes were closed, and soft breaths escaped her lips, the tension in her brow finally easing after their earlier conversation. In that moment, he realized that connection didn’t always require words. Sometimes, you met people who simply understood the unexplainable parts of you. It was a beautiful revelation, and with that thought, he closed his eyes once more, surrendering to the tranquil stillness of Pabu.

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“I highly doubt Rex would slip away without saying goodbye, especially since he agreed to stay a few days, Love,” Aiko remarked as she and Echo walked back toward the house. It hadn’t taken long for the others to notice that Rex and Mae were missing, prompting the pair to seek out the absent soldier and doctor.

“I’d like to agree, but Rex can be... quite driven by his sense of duty, often to the point of overlooking simple courtesies,” Echo replied as they stepped onto the front porch. He opened the door to find the lights dimmed but not completely off, just as they had left them. His gaze quickly landed on the illuminated screen of Mae’s Ryloth memorial, and Aiko gasped, pointing toward the sofa. When Echo followed her finger, he couldn't suppress a quiet chuckle.

There, side by side and fast asleep, were Rex and Mae. Rex leaned against the back of the couch, his legs stretched out before him, soft snores escaping his lips—clearly, Echo and Aiko’s entrance hadn’t disturbed him. Mae had slumped over, her head resting on Rex’s shoulder, blissfully unaware of her position or the fact that they now had an audience.

“Well, that’s... unexpected,” Echo murmured, gesturing to the door. Aiko followed him, stealing one last glance at the sleeping pair, her smile conveying everything that needed to be said. If there was one thing the empath understood, it was that finding peace amid chaos was truly a blessing.

Part 2 HERE