#i need to fix the tagging system some time soon

[the-boy-meets-evil]

on second thought | jww

(where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?)

pairing: wonwoo x f.reader genre: roommates/friends to fwb to?? | smut, tiny bit of angst if you squint rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni word count: 6.5k warnings: there's some plot here but it's mostly smut, multiple sex scenes (some quickly referenced), roommates who enter a fwb agreement, kissing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, use of actual lube, some scratching, after care, mentions: masturbation, kitchen sex, teasing, overstimulation, edging, i think that's it.

authors note: happy birthday to my bby @wongyuseokie! i'm thankful to have met you through nets. i hope you like some wonwoo to celebrate. thank you to @wonwussy for helping me with a title, you're a savior. this is unedited because i only started it yesterday so sorry in advance. also tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone

Another disappointing date. Another man who couldn’t even seem to let you finish a sentence. Was so intent on proving how well he could provide for you that he forgot to treat you like a person. So intent on establishing his dominance that he tried to order for you at the overpriced restaurant with too-small portions. So irritated that he paid for your dinner and drinks only for you to leave separately from him and refuse his offer to drive you home. There was no way you were letting that man know where you lived. Is it really asking too much just to have a decent date? You aren’t going to let anyone try to tell you that your standards are too high. You’re really just asking for the bare minimum. 

That’s why you’re sitting on the counter in the kitchen of your shared apartment, spilling your guts to your sympathetic roommate. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles in some places because he’s been playing video games for hours. Probably streaming at some point. You admire that he’s able to do something he loves to fill up most of his days. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and you try not to find it so endearing. But, you fail at that. He really is impossibly cute sometimes.

“Do you want a bite of this?” you ask instead, holding out the instant ramen you made as soon as you got home. 

“No, I ate earlier,” he answers. 

“An actual meal or a Wonwoo meal?” you challenge and he rolls his eyes.

“I ate real food. Go back to bitching about your date,” Wonwoo says. 

“I don’t know, maybe I was being too harsh,” you say. 

“He sounds like a fucking nightmare,” he disagrees. 

“Ugh, maybe I just need to redownload one of those apps,” you whine. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate fucking on the first date, but I’m so pent up that I need to release it somehow. I’m going insane.” 

This makes him laugh, at least. It releases a little bit of the tension, too. You’ve lived with Wonwoo nearly three years and were friends for years before that. Nothing is secret between the two of you. Not anymore. The first time you realized he caught you getting off in your room because you didn’t think he was home was mortifying. Even if he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. After you got over it, things settled. And in the time since, you’ve both heard the other doing a lot of things. Some of your friends think it’s weird, but you just chalk it up to the comfort of living with someone. After all, you would tell your female friends all about your sex life. Why was that weird to share with Wonwoo? 

“Toys not doing it for you?” he throws out. You only fix him with a glare. It’s more proof that you’re entirely too comfortable.

“Our walls are thin, what do you think?” you answer. 

Wonwoo snorts a little before seeming to consider something. “Why don’t we just fuck? Get it out of your system.” 

The sip of water you’re taking when he suggests that comes bursting out of your mouth. A real life spit take. Thankfully, he’s out of the blast zone. He looks unamused at water coming out of your mouth, but he doesn’t look like he was kidding. It can be so hard to tell with him. You think that you know his face well after all these years. But, you never thought you’d hear that coming out of his mouth, so you’re not sure. 

“Please give me some indication if that was a joke or not,” you say.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.

“Pretty clear indicator,” you mumble. 

“Is it that crazy? You think I’m hot…” Wonwoo starts. If you were still drinking, you’d spit out your water again.

“Uh, what?” you ask.

“You think I’m hot. Hao told me,” he says as if it’s no big deal. You’re mentally running through what the appropriate payback is for this breach of trust. “It’s fine. He told me because I was saying I also think you’re hot.” 

“I mean, thanks,” you laugh, still considering how you’re going to torture Minghao. “But, we can’t have sex.” 

“Why not?” Wonwoo presses. 

“Because we’re roommates?” you ask like it’s obvious. 

“So I can hear you fuck yourself with a toy or hear you fake an orgasm with another bad date, but us fucking each other is the line?” Wonwoo asks. 

“I don’t fake that many orgasms,” you scoff to buy time.

“Yes, you do,” he argues. “I can hear the difference. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be faking it with me.” 

There’s a little bit of cockiness in the statement that shouldn’t be doing anything for you. But, it is. There’s also the very real possibility that Wonwoo does know the difference in the sounds you make. It’s not like you’ve bothered being that quiet since the first conversation where he heard you. What’s the point? The walls are pretty thin and you’re both adults. It’s not like you’re going to kick him out every time you bring a date home. And you’re definitely not going to only get off in the shower because it drives up the water bill. 

Beyond any of it, there’s also a little curiosity. Wonwoo is insanely attractive. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. He’s got that whole nerdy thing going on for him on initial inspection with the glasses and gaming. Or there’s the fact that he’s content to just hang out around the house, even with company over, wearing his pimple patches. But then, there’s this whole other side to him. It comes out when you’re both out with friends and he leaves the glasses behind. Swapping out graphic tees or hoodies for form fitting clothing and leather jackets. Casually leaning against a bar and whispering honey into some nameless, faceless stranger’s ear. 

And that leads you to the reason you’re actually curious. Sure, he’s heard you having sex with people you’ve been dating or just someone you brought home for the night. But, you’ve heard him too. If any of your orgasms sound faked, the ones he coaxes from the pretty girls in his bed sound anything but. There’s nearly always an incoherent string of praises. That thought alone has you considering his proposition. It has you shifting a little on the counter.

“Let’s pretend for a second that I’m considering this,” you start and he smiles. 

“Pretend, sure,” he echoes. 

“We’d need ground rules, right? Like we don’t want this to get awkward,” you say.

“It’s not gonna be awkward. But, we can set whatever makes you feel comfortable,” he says nonchalantly. 

A very strong, very hard to ignore voice in the back of your head argues against setting rules at all. Actually urges you to just drag him into your bedroom. Or his bedroom? Maybe you do need some ground rules. 

So, you talk. You don’t say that it’s only going to happen once because you never know what needs might pop up. The most important thing that you agree to is that nothing can change between the two of you. If either of you feels like it’s going to, then you have to talk about it because preserving the friendship is most important. It doesn’t matter what bed you have sex in as long as the other helps clean anything up. You’re not planning on this being a regular thing, so you don’t need to negotiate any kinks or anything like that. If it does become more of a thing, then you can revisit the kinks. There won’t be any weirdness about dating or talking to other people. This is just a solution between two friends that are both going through dating dry spells. 

Once the rules are set out, Wonwoo brings you into his room. Even though you’ve been in here more times than you could ever count, it feels different now. He tells you to make yourself comfortable on his bed. When he turns around to take his shirt off and toss it aside, your eyes map out his back. And, yeah, you’ve seen Wonwoo shirtless before, but never given yourself permission to so openly appreciate his body. His shoulders are impossibly wide and he’s in deceptively good shape for someone that hides under baggier clothes. 

“Should I take a picture for you?” he asks. It’s only then that you realize that he’s facing you. 

“Funny,” you say with an eye roll. 

Wonwoo crosses the space to his bed and settles next to you. The way he reaches out to pull your face into his own is so smooth. His lips are on yours before your brain has a chance to catch up. You gasp a little and pull back.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Uh, didn’t we just go over this?” he asks.

“No, I mean, we’re kissing?” you ask.

“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart, just get right down to fucking you without foreplay?” he asks.

You feel a little stupid for asking that because of course you don’t want to skip the foreplay. It’s just that you don’t want to force it, either. 

“Just let me take care of you,” Wonwoo says to keep you from overthinking anything. 

It’s not something that you expected to be doing. Giving up control to Wonwoo. But, it’s surprisingly easy when he starts kissing you again. Any thoughts that this might be weird fly right out of your head as soon as he deepens the kiss. Instead, your focus is on what a good kisser he is. The way his lips mold effortlessly to yours. The way his tongue licks into your mouth. The way his hands roam your body as if they’re trying to memorize every curve. 

You’re breathless by the time Wonwoo pulls back from you to pull your shirt over your head. When you changed after the date from hell, you hadn’t considered putting anything nice on. Hadn’t bothered to keep your bra on. What was the point when you were just going to be going to bed after having something to eat? Now, you’re wondering about that decision. Because your very hot roommate is drinking in the sight of you. It’s making you a little self-conscious, the way his eyes move over your body.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he utters. 

It’s a little too intimate for you to respond to. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway. Wonwoo starts kissing down your neck and working his way to your breasts. He spreads his kisses between them, rolling your nipple between his fingers when his mouth is on your other breast. There’s something so consuming about the way he kisses your body, like he’s worshiping you. Like this is a lot more than roommates helping each other out. 

He works his way further down your body, kissing along your stomach, stopping at the waist band to your shorts. Thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to overthink here either before he pulls the shorts and underwear down your legs. Tosses them off to the side for good measure. You’re totally naked in front of someone you find you do actually trust. And someone that, yeah, maybe you’ve thought about fucking before. There was no reality where you thought it would happen, though. Even if it does make a lot of sense. Every part of you truly does feel safe with him. He knows you better than most people in your life. Which clearly translates to this part of you. 

Since you’re so comfortable, you’re finding it easier to not be embarrassed at the way he’s got you squirming under the barest touch. The way he ghosts his breath across your center makes you let out a whine. It’s unfair, the way that he wants to take his time like this. It’s also unfair that he’s the first person to ever make your mind go this blank during sex. Nothing exists to you outside of this moment and this man.

Wonwoo moves back to where you need him the most, blows gently against your center. The sensation sends a shiver down your body. You barely hear him mumble out a “so pretty” before he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your core. There’s just enough time to think this slow pace might actually be the death of you before he goes back in. Using his fingers to spread you apart, he starts tonguing your pussy. A mix of slow and deliberate movements with faster ones. His thumb circles your clit before his mouth moves up there to give it the attention it needs. 

With his mouth on your clit, he presses one finger into your pussy. You’ve never really thought much about his hands and now you’re wondering how you missed them. His long finger pumps in and out of you quickly. It seems that he’s reading your body and can tell that you don’t want something too slow. There’s so much pent up in you.

“Fuck, please, Wonwoo. I need another finger,” you whine. 

“Anything you want,” he mumbles into your pussy. 

He slides another finger inside of you and it makes you clench around him. That only seems to make him move faster. His mouth continues to work along with his fingers and your hands grip whatever they can reach. You’re a babbling mess and you suddenly understand what you overheard from Wonwoo’s room. There’s something so hot about knowing he’s this good with his mouth and his hands. It’s got you coming hard on his face. Harder than you can remember coming before. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises as soon as you’re coming down from your high. Your hazy brain doesn’t latch onto it the way it clearly should.

He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thing and then pulls himself up to lie next to you. His fingers trace patterns into your skin while he’s waiting for your breathing to come back to normal. 

“Jesus, I guess I know why I always heard so much praise through the wall,” you mutter. 

“None as pretty as the sounds you just made,” he says quietly. It’s so gentle, so intimate. There’s a lot of love between you and one of your closest friends, so you don’t dwell too much on it.

You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still dark with desire, fingers still keeping contact with your body. There’s like some kind of bubble around the two of you where nothing else exists. It’s a comfortable feeling, even in the quiet. Something pulls you in closer to him and you can feel his erection brush against your leg.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “You know, I’m still a bit pent up…”

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

“What? I’m gonna come on your face but we can’t actually fuck like we meant to?” you joke, a little braver than you feel. 

“This was about you, not about me,” he says simply. 

“It can be about both of us,” you say, hand running down his stomach. He tenses a bit under your touch and it’s unfair. He’s got perfect abs and you kind of hate it. Kind of hate that it’s so hot to you, too. 

You run your hand over the outline of his dick threw his shorts, enjoy the sharp intake of breath at the contact. It feels like a sign for you to keep going. But, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Kisses you hard and desperate. All of his restraint from before seems to be gone now. 

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warns. 

“Then show me how good you can fuck me. You were so sure earlier,” you press back. 

Wonwoo rolls over and pulls his shorts and boxers off. Casts them off to the side with your clothing. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls a condom out. He rolls back over to position himself between your legs. 

“One final time, are you sure?” he asks. It’s the first time since you came into his room that you’ve seen him look unsure.

“As long as you’re sure too, yes. I need this Nu, please,” you say, a little breathy with desire. 

“I love it when you call me that,” he admits. 

With your go ahead, he slides his tip along your entrance. You know you’re still wet from his hard work, but he still reaches into the dresser again. He pulls out some lube and runs it along his cock. Once he’s done that, he puts the cap back on and tosses it aside. He presses his tip against you again and this time slides in, slowly. Gives you a chance to adjust. 

You’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy like this, with his arms on either side of you like he’s caging you in. Instead of wanting to get out, you can only think that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your hands find their way to his arms, gripping him tightly as he bottoms out in you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses. 

“Nu, fuck, please move,” you beg. 

“Give me a second, sweetheart, I’m trying to adjust so it doesn’t end too fast,” he says, voice so impossibly deep. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

It finally does get him to move though, barely pulling out at all and fucking slowly into you, so deep. He’s filling you up in the most perfect way. Your nails dig into his arms, but you can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. Makes him pull nearly all the way out of you before snapping hard into you again. He repositions one of your legs so that he can reach a different angle. With each hard thrust, his dick hits exactly where you need him to be. The rhythm is fast, which is really everything you need for how stressed you’ve been feeling. Each thrust uncoils more of the tension in your body. Each moan seems to spur him on more. 

When he leans down to kiss you, it’s messy. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth and need, so much need. Your hands find purchase anywhere on his body they can, even as his own arms seem to be a little shaky. So, you pull him down on top of you, bodies pressed tight as he continues fucking you. You’re still so sensitive from the first orgasm that you’re building up entirely too quickly. Even though you wanted it fast like this, you’re a little sorry to think it might be almost over. 

Wonwoo must feel that you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him and begging for him to give you everything. He pushes himself up a little, just creates the tiniest amount of space between your bodies, and you miss it a little. Miss the feeling of skin on skin. But, he’s only doing it so that he can circle your clit. He just wants to take care of all that tension. You give control over to him completely. Let him set the pace. An embarrassingly short time later, you’re coming for the second time. He removes his hand but still fucks you through the high. 

When your body stops shaking, you realize that he’s stilled inside you. He’s barely even moving as he looks down at you.

“It’s okay, Nu, I’m not that sensitive yet,”  you assure him

“Thank fuck,” he whispers. 

His pace is fast and you reach up to run your nails down his back. That seems to get him like nothing else does. When you do it a second time, he hisses out and you know he likes it. Each time your nails find a new part of his skin, his thrusts stutter. You clench your pussy around his cock and that’s all he can handle. He’s coming undone. 

You return the favor through his high, lightly keeping the rhythm going and helping him settle his weight on top of you. His breathing is still heavy when he meets your eyes and gives you the gentlest kiss. Slowly, he slides out of you and rolls over. The next second, he’s up to dispose of the condom. He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you.

“Well, I guess I learned one thing,” you say when he gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom.

“What’s that?” he calls over his shoulder.

“All that confidence was definitely warranted,” you say through a light laugh. 

You can just feel him rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you’d have less to say after a good fuck.” 

“Nope, chatty as ever. No more tension, though,” you say. 

“I’m glad,” he says, but it looks like he actually means it.

You move to get out of the bed and look at the sheets. Probably in need of a change. “Hey, do you wanna throw these in the hamper and just sleep in my bed tonight?” 

“Are you sure that doesn’t break any rules?” he asks.

“No, we’ve done it…are you teasing me?” Your question morphs in the middle when you catch sight of his face. He can be such a shit for someone who acts like he’s chill all the time. 

“I would never tease you,” he says, faux seriousness lacing his voice.

“That’s a shame, I like being teased,” you toss back.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he shrugs.

“Next time?” you wonder.

“Just go get in your bed, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says. 

It wasn’t like you agreed for sex with Wonwoo to be a one time thing. That felt like putting too many rules in place. Still, you’re not expecting it to happen again quite so quickly. You also genuinely didn’t realize he was home when you pulled out your vibrator. But, he was home and he barged into your room without knocking, pulled you to the edge of your bed, and fucked you hard. Made you wonder why you’d ever even consider using your vibe in the first place. 

The next time comes after another failed date. It kind of seemed like that was the recipe. Something goes wrong or you’re pent up and he’s there to let you use him. Although, he’s really using you just as much. You like to let him be a little rough with you. There’s something satisfying in the way he doesn’t treat you like he’s going to break you. It’s unquestionably the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s your business. You don’t need to share that with the class. You do figure that it might be time to talk about some kinks and boundaries, though. It would be good to be on the same page. 

That seems to be how it goes for a while, at least. It’s mostly you needing something, Wonwoo being able to sense that, and helping you out. It doesn’t seem to ever start from him being the one to need something. He doesn’t even seem to be going out and bringing people home so much anymore. Not that you’re keeping track, you just can’t remember the last time he did. Or maybe he’s trying to only bring someone home when you’re not around. 

He definitely holds true to his promise to tease you. One night, after a really long week at work with a lot of little things going wrong, he asks if he can take his time with you. In hindsight, you should have known it meant that it was going to mean teasing. But, you agreed anyway, and let him set the pace. Instead of hard and fast, he takes everything slow. He brings you right to the edge over and over again without letting you have your release. It’s insane how well he seems to read your signs. It seems like he can tell you’re close before you can. That night, it feels like it goes on for hours before he finally lets you come. It’s the biggest mess you’ve ever made. A fact that you would be embarrassed about if Wonwoo hadn’t looked so proud. Still, it feels like you’re the one always working something out.

Until it doesn’t.

One night, you come back from a night out with friends and are rummaging through the cabinets looking for a snack. This is the thing you hate about living with Wonwoo. He’s taller than you and doesn’t think twice about using the higher cabinets. You, on the other hand, can’t reach them so easily. You’re on your tiptoes trying to reach something when you feel him press into your back. His hand comes up and grabs the box you were reaching for with ease. You press further back into him when your heels hit the floor again.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles into your hair. His hands find a place on your hips, holding you against him. This feels different from how every other time has started. 

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly into the silence of the apartment. 

He lets one hand slide down, quickly meeting the bare skin of your thigh. You know your skirt is a little shorter than normal, but the night seemed to call for it. “This. Did you go out hoping to bring someone home?” 

“Maybe,” you say, shivering a little at the way his breath tickles your ear. 

“Are you trying to tease me?” he asks. It comes across almost like a demand. 

You wiggle your ass against him a little before you answer. “I would never.” 

“Of course not,” he says. 

Everything that happens after that feels different. It’s never started like this. It’s been passionate, but it’s never been driven by so much raw desire. It’s never been the kind of sex where Wonwoo pushes your skirt up around your hips and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. Never been the kind of sex where he buries his face in your pussy while you grip the counter for support. Never been so desperate and needy and rushed. 

He makes you come twice on his tongue with your knees going so weak that you can barely stand before he even moves onto actually fucking you. You’re so weak by the time you finish that he has to help you to the bathroom to clean up before he tucks you into your bed. You’re so tired that you don’t even realize how intimate it is when you ask him to get into bed with you. 

The disappointment that sets in when you wake up to get some water in the early hours of the morning hits you hard. Entirely too hard for something that’s supposed to be free of feelings. Your bed feels a little empty without him taking up space. Which is really stupid because it’s not like that’s been something you’ve been doing all of the time. It’s not something you’re used to. But, there’s an unexpected comfort in him. Something that catches you completely off guard. As you drift back off to sleep, you resolve to deal with your feelings in the morning. 

That’s how you find yourself sitting on Minghao’s couch as he makes you both a cup of tea. He hasn’t asked about your roommate yet, but you know that it’s coming. He just wants to have everything he thinks you’ll need first. A few minutes later, he sets two cups of tea down next to the plate of snacks he threw together. If you weren’t in such a crisis, you’d have time to be envious over how pretty the presentation looked. 

“So things with Wonwoo have gotten awkward?” he asks without preamble. 

“Jesus, Hao, let me take a sip first, at least,” you groan. 

“I don’t want to say that I told you this was a bad idea…” he starts.

“You were the one who spilled the beans that I thought he was hot. This is your fault too,” you point out. 

“I told him that he wasn’t alone in thinking his roommate was hot. I didn’t tell you both to start fucking without realizing it was bound to blow up,” he says. 

“I know,” you sigh. 

“So, what’s going on?” he asks. 

Minghao is a lot of things. He can be a bit of an art snob. He’s that kind of impeccably dressed where he looks like he just stepped off a runway. He can appear a bit detached. But, he’s also one of the most thoughtful people you know. He’s complex and he cares for his friends more than he cares for himself most times. Both you and Wonwoo are among those he counts as his closest friends. So, he just listens as you lay out everything that’s happened since the first time you had sex. He doesn’t judge or interrupt. Patiently, he just waits as you get it all off your chest, including how you felt after last night. 

None of that really comes as a surprise. You know that he’s going to give you shit and be there for you at the same time. What does come as a surprise is what he says when you’re done laying out your issues.

“I haven’t wanted to set you up because I wasn’t sure you were in the right place for it, but I actually have a friend that I think you might hit it off with,” he says. “He’d definitely get you out of this whole Wonwoo funk you’re in so things can go back to normal.” 

“You wanna set me up?” you ask, surprised. 

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you,” he says. 

“Okay, tell me about him,” you agree.

“He’s really kind. Kind of talks in a permanent pout, but it’s endearing somehow. He’s a giant softie at heart and he’s so incredibly loyal. He’s been talking about how he’s looking for something a little more serious. I think you’d like him,” Minghao says. 

“What’s his name, Hao?” you ask skeptically.

“Mingyu,” he answers and your eyes go wide.

“Mingyu? As in that hot model you’re friends with?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Minghao says evenly.

“Okay, you can see if he’s interested,” you agree.

It’s been a couple days since Minghao threw out the suggestion of setting you up with Mingyu. The two of you have exchanged a few messages and he does actually seem really nice. He’s also funnier than you expected him to be. When he asks if you want to get dinner the upcoming weekend, you find you’re a little bit excited. 

There’s only one issue. You feel like you need to tell Wonwoo. You know that he’s not going to care, but it still feels weird when you’ve been fucking around. Maybe Minghao was right and the whole thing was a terrible idea after all. It’s hard for you to tell him when you seem to keep missing each other, though. Lately, he’s been playing video games over at Vernon’s place more than normal. Even if they’re streaming, something feels weird. 

“Hey,” he calls out from the front door, snapping you from your thoughts. 

“Oh hey,” you answer, looking up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he moves to head back to his room. “Everything okay?” 

He stops to look at you when you ask that question and his eyes still look a bit distant. “Yeah, fine. Why?” 

“I don’t know, you’re being short with me,” you say. 

He just shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.” 

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the first syllable. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that Minghao set me up with his friend Mingyu and I was thinking I’d go out with him.” 

“You don’t have to tell me about your dates,” he says evenly.

“I just thought…” you start.

“We agreed,” he interjects. “Enjoy your date whenever you go.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly to his retreating figure. 

The whole point of agreeing to go out with Mingyu was to get things back to normal with Wonwoo. It was clear that you had gotten in over your head. Now, you’re wondering if things are going to be able to go back to normal at all. This isn’t your normal dynamic. You always shared stories about dates, hook-ups, anything and everything under the sun. Your other friends always said it was weird for the two of you and you just ignored them. Now, you feel like you’re in it alone. Maybe they’re right and it is weird.

Since it’s a little on the later side anyway, you decide to grab something from the kitchen and just head into your room. You can go to bed early and forget that whole conversation even happened. That’s probably for the best. It’ll be easier to get back to normal once you’re going on dates again. Once you stop fucking your roommate like you could have ever done that without forming some kind of feelings. 

It’s the middle of the night when you feel someone slide into bed around you. A familiar scent slips into your consciousness as an arm slides around your center. You nestle back into the chest and know for sure that it’s your roommate. The same man you’re trying hard to get over.

“What are you doing, Wonwoo?” you mumble in sleepiness. 

“Don’t go on the date with Mingyu,” he says. He sounds completely awake. 

“What?” you ask. Your brain is still foggy from sleep. 

“Don’t go out with anyone else,” he says. 

That makes you open your eyes as the words bounce around in your brain. You turn over to your other side so that you’re facing him. His hair is messy and all he’s wearing is a plain white t-shirt, but your heart still constricts a bit at the sight of him. 

“What do you want, Wonwoo?” you ask, voice thick with mental exhaustion.

“Exactly what I told you. I want you to turn Mingyu down,” he says.

“Why should I?” you challenge. 

“Because, well, we’ve got this…” he starts and fumbles over his words.

“We haven’t got anything. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” you point out. “Hell, I asked you to stay in bed with me after you fucked me in the kitchen and you couldn’t even make it til morning.” 

“I know, but I was scared that night because I realized I was starting to feel something,” he says. “And then Hao texted me to tell me he’d finally given your number to Mingyu…”

“Finally? What do you mean?” you asked.

“He’s been asking for your number for months,” Wonwoo says through somewhat gritted teeth. “So Minghao told me you’d agreed to be set up and I don’t know, I guess I just decided…”

“To avoid me?” you supply. 

“I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know how to process you not telling me,” he admits. 

“You weren’t around for me to tell you,” you point out. “We’ve been fucking. I wasn’t just gonna be like oh by the way, I’m going on a date.” 

“Please don’t go on a date with him,” Wonwoo asks again.

“I will consider not going if you can actually talk to me,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks. 

“Everything you’re feeling and why this whole let’s just be roommates that fuck was stupid,” you say. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says immediately. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep, and send Wonwoo to the kitchen to get you something to drink. By the time he’s back, you’re sitting up in bed and ready to have an actual conversation. 

You stay up entirely too late talking about everything between the two of you. It’s a little hard to believe Wonwoo is so open with admitting how he feels. It’s harder to believe that Wonwoo knew he felt something for you before the very first time you had sex. In his mind, it was clear that he wasn’t just offering because the two of you were friends. He offered it as a way to gauge your own feelings. But, after that first time, he kind of figured it was just sex and tried to detach himself from it. That was when you started to feel something for him. 

When he’s done admitting his own mistakes and feelings, you figure that it’s time for you to own up to your own. It was really silly to just make up his side of the conversation about why he didn’t stay in bed with you that night. After all, the one thing you both stressed before sleeping together the first time was that you had to be honest in your communication. That’s what friends did and you were friends before anything else. As it turns out, you’re both way more on the same page than either of you realized. 

“You’re wrong about one thing, though,” you admit. 

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It was never just sex for me. I was totally done the first time you kissed me,” you share, picking at a thread on your comforter to avoid looking at him.

“I kissed you before we even had sex,” he points out, incredulous. 

“Yeah, turns out I’m not so good at the just friends who fuck thing,” you say with a shrug. 

“If I’d have known that was all it took, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Wonwoo grumbles.

That brings you up short. “Nu, just how long have you liked me?” 

“I don’t know, a while,” he says. 

You just shake your head at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just talk to me next time.” 

“Can we go back to having sex now? I miss the feel of you,” he whines out. “And the taste.” 

“We literally fucked less than a week ago,” you point out to try and avoid the way it makes heat pool. 

“I could taste you every day and never get sick of it,” he says without any embarrassment. 

“Are we really giving this a try?” you ask.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Wonwoo says.

“I do, I’m just scared. What if we try a relationship and it doesn’t work?” you ask. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t wanna lose that.” 

Wonwoo reaches out to tilt your head up. “We’ll just promise to be honest with each other. We can figure this out together.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“So, we’re doing this?” he confirms.

“Yeah, we’re doing this.” 

Just like that, you agree to take a leap with the only person that you’ve always trusted to catch you every time you fall. It feels scary, but also completely natural. 

i hope you enjoyed it! 💕

[amaranthineghost]

ahh!! i think i speak on behalf of a lot of people when i say i need a part two, because that was so amazing and so beautifully written 🫶🏻🫶🏻

| I CAN'T NOT HAVE YOU, I'LL TRAVEL THE SOLAR SYSTEM TO MEND OUR STARS ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairings: lando x reader

ꕥ parts: 1

ꕥ tagging: @gulphulp

ꕥ summary: they hadn't seen each other in months after their breakup, which left them in more misery than they thought. because now they'll do anything to make it work.

ꕥ authors note: I've been planning this in my head while writing the first part to this and i really like how this came out! going to work on christmas imagines and also finish up a request that I've been meaning to write!

ꕥ warnings: smut (at the end if you don't want to read that part), heavy angst (wanted to break some hearts), mentions of alcohol abuse and heavy drinking, mentions of eating struggles. not proofread the end.

IT'D BEEN MONTHS. months since he last abandoned her in their old apartment. since he drove off in his mclaren, punched the rearview mirror because he couldn't take it. to this day, he regretted it with every fiber of his being. he tried to convince himself for days on end, it was for the better. but was it really?

he was struggling. he couldn't sleep properly, staring at the dark ceiling, feeling beside him in the bed for another warm body, breaking his heart more every time he reminded himself that she wasn't here. it was cold.

it was cold despite the blistering summer heat of monaco, windows open to let in the heat. max swore at him every time because despite being rich, he was letting out cool air. but lando couldn't stand the cold. without her, his heart was frigid.

it worsened as the months grew colder and races passed him by. he was peforming fine, for now, but he'd reach his limit soon enough.

he hated when the air got bitterly frozen because this year, he wouldn't have her. he wouldn't have the heat that radiated off her to keep him warm.

he'd waste himself away with alcohol to forget the memory of leaving her. it turned his stomach in knots everytime to think of her watching him leave because they didn't know what to do to fix them. he wish he knew, he should've.

more often than not, he'd spent his nights on bathroom floors of the club, puking his guts out into the toilet, or sitting on the kitchen floor belonging his temporary roommate, max fewtrell. he sat against the tiled floor and wooden cabinets with a half-emptied bottle in his hands, tears on his face.

he'd sit there for hours, wasting away with every sip burning at his throat. he hated alcohol, but it was the only way to cope because he didn't want to remember any moment without her.

when he was nearly passed out on the floor, max would drag him up by his arms, forcing more than a few glasses of water down his throat. he'd grown familiar with his friend's new sulking.

max threw him on the guest room bed he didn't bother to make because he was miserable. he made it everyone's problem then. he'd leave his passed out friend a concoction of medicines to help with the hangover, he'd gotten used to this routine for the past couple of months.

when lando would stumble his way down the stairs, hands wrapped in his curls with a splitting pain through his head and a grimace on his face, all max would comment is "well, aren't you a pitiful sod."

lando rolled his eyes, groaning at the pain as he did so, sitting on a chair at the table across from his best friend, cringing at the resemblance of dinners with his girl—who wasn't even his anymore.

"jesus, mate, maybe you do need an intervention." he'd push his bowl of oatmeal towards lando, watching the expression on his face closely.

"I'm fine."

"clearly not," max scoffed, "mate, it's great havin' you here, but y'need to sober up."

"I will."

"you've said that last month, and the month before that, and the month before that." he shook his head, "I don't even get why you guys broke up."

lando groaned, rubbing his fingertips to his temple and chugging the water before he spoke, "it wasn't working out, 'ts for the best."

"for the best? are you kidding me?" he scoffed his friend's words, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

to max, breaking up was for the worst. he could tell lando was in misery, and he'd guess she was the same, maybe worse. maybe he didn't know much, but he knew enough to know that they were meant for each other.

"I'm not kidding," he muttered, pushing the oatmeal around the bowl, his spoon clinking against the sides, "besides, we tried to fix it, 'n it didn't work."

he paused, "fix it 'ow?"

lando rolled his eyes, feeling the consequences of his actions through his head, mumbling under his breath, "we went out to eat."

"you're jokin' me?" he leaned forward, a look of disbelief and disappointment on his face, "you went out to eat? how's that goin' to solve anything?"

lando shrugged again, refusing to look max in the eye as he pushed the mush around in his bowl, picking out the bits of fruit throughout.

"you're a real geezer, y'know that?" he sighed deeply, leaning back into the stool as he sat looking at his idiotic friend, "it was a perfectly salvageable relationship, mate, and you just threw it away." he shook his head, his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned his head on one hand.

"you gonn' call me a muppet next?" he aggressively bit into the small strawberry.

"might as well because you're acting like one. now why did you break up with her?"

"she broke up with me." he quietly corrected him, though it didn't seem to shed light on the fact that they didn't try as much as they thought they did.

"then fight for your relationship!" max exclaimed, throwing his hands up in response, "did you ever talk about what was wrong?"

"we didn' have time to," lando admitted, "and we didn't know what to do." he pushed aside the bowl, having barely touched the food residing in it. it's gone cold now, just like him.

"make the time!" he suggested, jabbing his finger into the counter to make a point, "when was the last time you were alone together?"

"when we had dinner together."

max groaned, shoving his face into his hands, rubbing his closed eyes on his palms. lando was starting to give him a headache, "when was the last time you were alone together, no people, no cameras, no fans, just you and her doing something?"

"i 'ont know."

"jesus, man." his voice muffled into his skin as his face remained in his palms because of the idiocracy of his friend.

"well, what do you suggest i do then, max?" lando's tone got seemingly more aggressive and annoyed, the volume of his voice raising slightly.

"actually spend time with her! take her on holiday!" he suggested, matching energies.

"mate, I can't just ask her after months of not speakin'," lando's stool pushed against the floor as he stood up, he was agrivated. he harshly grabbed the bowl with the cold food and shoved it in the sink.

max turned in his seat, "right, so just give up and go back to drinkin' then?"

lando ignored the comment, it infuriated him because max was right. if he didn't find the solution to his problem, he probably would go back to getting blackout drunk. all in hopes that'd help forget his misery

he leaned against the sink with his arms, his head hung between his inner biceps with his eyes closed, taking deep breaths before asking, "how should I ask her then?"

"you truly are a muppet."

"christ, just help m'out here!" lando pleaded because he couldn't take it anymore. he'd been losing himself to however many bottles of alcohol that'd stacked in the bin and the amount of over-the-counter drugs he'd force down his burned throat. all to forget what seemed like an impossible fix, but all he needed was another person. just because they didn't know what to do doesn't mean others wouldn't.

and of course max would help. he just had to give lando a hard time for screwing up so badly because he would've never expected him to show up at his front door midday, stumbling drunk and muttering slurred phrases about her.

his first thought when he saw his disoriented friend was to wonder if something had happened, the obvious answer being, obviously. because lando barely drank. max knew how much he couldn't stand the taste and chasing burn so it wasn't often you'd catch him drunk, much less to this extent.

he knew it had to involve his girlfriend by the here-and-there words he could decipher from the rest, but he couldn't expect to get the full story from the utter nonsense his friend spewed.

it wasn't till morning max discovered the extent of lando's stupidity.

" 'ts your relationship," max sighed, "and you realize she might not be so accepting to see you."

it hurt to think about. he didn't know what was worse, for her to be in such misery like himself or for her to not want him back. his stomach tied itself in knots to even think about, but he was the one who left her in the first place.

"yeah, I know."

he was lost without her. everything seemed so meaningless without her by his side, though she hadn't been for months, even when they were together. but the idea of her presence somewhere in his vicinity was all he needed.

she was like a drug he tried so hard to quit because it seemed to be getting him no where. but he was addicted. all he thought about when he wasn't drunk was her. every single dollar wasted on booze was drank to forget her. the lack of her in his life.

so when he showed up at her doorstep, it was more than just a shock. she'd opened the door, the last thing she expected was to see him, standing with an expression that seemingly matched hers. the smell of booze wafting from his clothes and the bittersweet smell of his cologne she had long forgotten about. smelling it again brought back everything she tried to learn to forget about him.

she wanted to be mad, to push and kick him away, but she'd been waiting for months for him to reappear into her life. for him to come back to her, the anticipation built in her body every time the door bell echoed off the walls, or knocks that pounded against the door.

but instead she slammed the door almost immediately, and he didn't blame her. how could he when he'd been the one to leave. because on the other side of that door, her heart was pounding.

she'd been wanting to see him for so long, so badly wanted him back in her life, but what if they made the same mistakes? she couldn't take losing him a second time because she'd already lost most of herself when he drove away the first time.

because she'd watched her future slip through her fingertips and there wasn't anything she knew that would make her catch it.

she knew she was to blame for breaking them up. it was for the best, she told her guilty conscience, but it didn't change the heart-wrenching want to have him back.

she'd spent months in the cocoon she made of their cold bed, ultimately settling on his side to feel closer to him. but what was the point? he hadn't slept in that bed in months, the sheets that reeked of him faded, and even more so when he left her, for at the time she thought, forever.

"love, please," he pleaded against the door, his forehead against the cold metal, "I screwed up, but please, let me fix this, us."

she hesitated. she knew she was the type to let people who hurt her back into her life so easily, as if nothing happened, but she was the one who forced him out. she knew that.

so when the door creaked open, he pushed himself away from the door as fast as lightning. her doe eyes peaking around, staring at his chest before they found their way to his face. he'd changed. he looked tired, unkept. she'd be lying if she said she looked the same as she did months ago because she honestly looked worse than him.

because being apart brought out their worst qualities in themselves that they'd helped the other through, but it resurfaced.

when he'd gotten a good look at her, he realized she definitely wasn't the same girl she was months ago. he'd notice the dark circles under her eyes, half-lidded and puffy, begging for sleep. the oversized hoodie he left her, though surprisingly clean, was well-worn by her. through the baggy cloth, he could tell her physique was slimmer, he felt nauseous.

she couldn't stand the silence between them even when they lived the last months of their relationship filled with it. they were both hurting and they both knew it, but they'd assume the other would be the one to patch it up. that's where they messed up, they seem to do it a lot.

"so why now are you here?" she'd cut through the silence with a butter knife, sawing back and forth as she stumbled where she stood. she struggled to keep her balance, lack of energy will do that to you.

"I realized how much of an idiot I was," he stepped closer, bringing his hand to hers, pressing her fingers between his. he trailed the pads of his fingertips down her hand and to her wrist. he'd latch on, caressing the soft skin, he'd remember the feeling.

"but I was the one who broke you with you."

he didn't mean it like that, to insinuate that she was the idiot for breaking them up because in no way did he blame her. he put the blame all on him for not fighting for them.

" 'nd I was the one who left."

she stared up at him, her big eyes doing things to him, he shouldn't feel it in a moment like this, but he did. he just wanted her back, to feel her lips on his, her smooth skin under his soft but callused hands.

her lips parted when she'd realize the feeling of warmth against her face, his hand running along her jaw to her chin. though she was already looking up at him, he pushed her head up further, but so softly.

his voice was raspy and deep, pleading, "please, darlin'." she couldn't say no even if the voice inside her head and the feeling in her heart told her to.

"just don't leave again."

he could never, not after the misery he'd been through without her, blackout nights to forget everything that had led up to their break up. he couldn't imagine the anguish he put her through.

and at those words, he couldn't hold back anymore, his lips colliding with hers so desperately, like he needed her to survive. he kind of did. he tasted faintly of alcohol and fruit, she tasted like mint. her lips moved softly against his passionate kiss because he was acting like she was his oxygen, his water, his everything because she was.

his hand tangled in her hair, the sounds of their breaths between their lips, the heavy heat that surrounded the air as they separated.

"let's go somewhere," he'd suggest, his chest rising and falling more noticeably now.

her lips became a swollen pink as she looked up at him, dazed as her eyes flickered between his green eyes, "where?"

he shook his head, smiling. god, she missed that smile. he spoke so softly now, "anywhere, you pick. it'll jus' be us."

money didn't matter to him. if she wanted to travel to the moon and back, he'd make it happen because he wanted to make things right. he wanted to show her he was all in now because he would never take another step out ever again.

so they'd travel across the world. he'd rent out hotels, restaurants, amusement parks, anything she'd want. like max said, he wanted this between the two of them. no cameras, no fans, no public. just them enjoying their time together and alone at the most beautiful places she could think of.

she'd end up on an island with him, the only other people being the employees of the resorts he'd rent out. he did everything with her.

they went on yachts around the crystal waters and coral reefs surrounding the beaches that they'd later lay and tan on. they'd talk as they bathed in the sunlight. snorkeling while holding hands and pointing out various species that inhabited the waters.

candle-lit dinners sitting across from each other, though their hands never left each other. they'd been offered fancy wines, lando ultimately opting out. she understood. they tried the exotic foods and other virgin drinks the resort had to offer.

they had long runs along the beach, heavy makeout sessions on stranded towels where they couldn't take their hands off the other, deciding to take the trip back to their hut over the waters.

when they'd make it back, he wasted no time because he missed her, the feeling of her around him, the taste of her.

as soon as the hut door slammed shut, his veined hand would be pressured on her neck, pushing at the skin under his fingertips to pull her into his lips. he was desperate, she knew that.

his lips were harshly against hers, she could feel the vibrations of his groans against her flesh, feeling his working hands across her chest, having left her neck temporarily to undo her tied bikini top. it was discarded onto the wooden floors with no further regard. they'd separate, foreheads pushed together and their noses clashing as their breaths mixed in the middle.

his head dipped below her jaw, biting at the skin of her neck. whimpers left her lips and she felt his smirk on her skin while she grasped at his curls. he slowly pushed their bodies towards the open laid bed behind her, her calf's meeting the mattress. he tugged at the elastic of her beach shorts, though deciding to take his time, which made it all the more agonizing for her, she needed him.

his lips trailed her body, leaving trails of his saliva and marks where he nipped at her skin, from her neck down to her chest. he groped her tits, earning a low groan from her as his tongue swirled her areola. she tugged his hair, his curls between each of her fingers as she bit back the sounds that forced through her throat. he was starved of her, which only turned her on more. she felt the heat between her thighs.

he'd kneel on his knees in front of her as he'd continue to leave a string of dark hickeys down her skin as he'd continue to her stomach, and just above her panty line, pulling the elastic of her shorts down. she'd almost just rip them off because she couldn't take how slow he'd move compared to when they first ended up in this situation.

his finger wrapped around the band, slowly pulling the material over the curves of her body, but he'd left her panties, which infuriated her. he did it all while looking straight up into her eyes, the glint in his eyes filled of lust and mischief. he'd lift her leg with his hand wrapped around the back of her knee, helping her kick off the clothing.

he'd kiss the skin just above the side of her knee, his lips glued to her skin as they traveled higher up her thighs, as well as his hands, sliding under the side of her panties. his nose brushed against the cloth of her cunt, ghostly stimulating her clit. it provoked a reaction out of her as she whined, and he'd continue to kiss along the line of her undergarment.

he may have started off desperate, but now he was taking his sweet time to take care of her. she wanted to badly for him to just hurry it along, wanting to feel him, but he'd rather enjoy the moment he had with her, like it was his last.

he pushed aside the cloth barrier, licking his lips as he eyed the wet patch caused by him, his warm breath panned across her cunt and she pleaded, "lan, please." god, he loved to hear her beg, it was music to his ears, but her moans were a symphony.

his two fingers slowly parted her folds, feeling her pulse under him as she moaned against the contact, he 'tsk'd at her reaction, "so wet for me, darling." his voice was raspy, deep and she cursed under her breath as she watched him lick her off his fingers.

the taste of her brought him back, he'd savor it because he hadn't before, not when he didn't realize it could've been the last. she was sweet, her skin smelling of vanilla as his nose brushed against her.

he'd had enough teasing for now, and gently he'd pull down her panties. she'd be fully exposed, but he was still dressed, his clothes feeling tighter around his body, specifically his swim shorts.

he didn't care. he'd thrown one of her legs over his shoulder as he flattened his tongue across her, feeling the tremble in her standing leg. he'd bury his lips in her cunt, vigorously tasting her like he hadnt eaten in weeks. his tongue lapped at her heat and she let out strings of curses interrupted by moans as she'd tug him closer to her by his hair.

vibrations of his groans stimulated her clit as he softly nipped at the sensitive flesh. he'd lapped at her cunt for not long before it became overwhelming, her moans growing high and squeaked as her legs nearly buckled.

he kept going, looking up at her with massively dilated eyes, half-lidded and seductive. her jaw went slack as she stared into his eyes, she felt the crescendo of her high and she'd nearly scream out his name as she came on his tongue. he'd lick up any remaining juice of hers.

his tongue left one long trail over her cunt, pressuring on her sensitive before pulling away, a trail of saliva connecting to his mouth and her slick glistened on his lips and chins. she panted heavily, he watched the rise and fall of her chest, felt the shaking of her knees as they nearly gave out under her.

he'd smile up at her, his goofy grin greeted her after her hazed high calmed. she'd roll her eyes at his light-heartedness after she'd just came on his tongue.

but it was moments like those that'd bring back the spark of youth and naivety to their relationship. because it was what they'd needed all along. all they needed was each other.

[slocumjoe]

danse's romance route has some potholes

so, this post woke me from my slumber, have a ramble

This has always been a weird point for me, but I never got around to really figuring out what it was exactly until just now. I think all of the romantic candidates have out-of-place flirting, at least here and there, but Danse consistently has dialogue options to flirt with him at exactly the wrong fuckin time. The odd thing about Danse is that, most of the time, the normal Good/Yes answer is more romantic or sincerely affectionate than the flirt.

So, the Flirts.

The only Flirt that works is when he talks about his fear of losing people, and Sole says, "I care too much about you to do that to you." It's the first Flirt, and he responds by saying you've given him "something to think about." I've gone on about how Danse has never truly felt cared for. Sole's voice acting also sells this Flirt by being somewhat timid, unsure of saying this, but wanting him to know.

Danse's talks go Kreig > Cutler > Haylen > Help Im A Robot. The first time you can flirt with him is in the Cutler chat, where the "I care about you" line comes up. It's not out of left field from the conversation. It's affectionate, it doesn't overstep, but it pushes the line and makes Danse consider "oh shit, there's a lil something something going on here."

The "Would you hold me?" line is much less subtle.

Danse talks about how he doubts himself after Cambridge and Sole's reference to him hugging Haylen makes it seem like they've just been waiting for him to shut up to use that line on him. It's out of place, it circles back to a topic we've moved on from, and it's so overt it sucker-punches everyone involved, including the player. It's blunt.

The other options of "I'm here whenever you need me" or "I'm glad you feel better" are less flirtatious, but they imply more direct concern and care for Danse. Both lines are about Danse, and Sole being there for him. The actual Flirt is what Danse can do for Sole. This is such a weird nitpick, I know, but it comes off not as romantic, but more like Sole is trying to hook up with him. That would work with someone like Hancock, or maybe Piper, but Danse's romance involves more subtlety and slow-burn elements. It's too forward.

So, in his final talk...

It's literally "Kitten I'll be honest, Daddy's about to kill himself" "haha no don't kill yourself you're soooo sexy"

It comes right after he's having a lot of emotions about his reason for living. This is not the time to put the responsibility of a relationship on someone. Again, this is a flaw of the 4 Affinity Talks system. If you're just going for a platonic relationship with Danse, his talks work great, but his character arc is unfinished anyway. They have to shoehorn romance in there, and it doesn't have the room to develop naturally. It's why Sole has to explicitly say "Would you hold me ;>".

The strangest part is that his neutral/Friendly dialogue options are more affectionate and relationship-building. Again, the other options in the Haylen talk comfort Danse and reassure him.

Honestly, I think the best option, for all romancable companions, is within arms reach. You know how, if you don't romance someone, they'll bring up their last talk again and give you a barn door of an opening to broach the subject of a relationship again? Just. Do that/ It's literally what I did when I romanced Danse; don't romance him as soon as possible. Let it marinate.

The second chance to romance him goes the exact same way, eyebrows to space and all. It just takes place after Danse confesses how close he feels to you and trusts you and not RIGHT AFTER BLIND BETRAYAL.

It's easy to fix the pacing just by not going for the smooch ASAP, but the flirting is awkward. It's worth noting that the line before the Haylen flirt "It's comforting to know that I can speak to you as more than just your commanding officer" has it's own Flirting tag on it. Danse flirts with Sole here, canonically.

A cheap and easy rewrite is Sole echoing the sentiment with something like, "It's comforting to know that you're more than my commanding officer." This leaves room for interpretation. What else is Danse? Sole has an idea, but leaves Danse to wonder about it. It also confirms to Danse "yes, we have a personal bond and this isn't just a work thing."

I think the core of Danse's romance is this dude realizing that he's loved and cared for, truly. Cait has a similar arc, but hers has different complications and contexts than Danse. Danse needs a slow-burn romance full of soft moments and instances of Sole reminding him of his own humanity, even long before the synth thing.

It's worth noting that the "i care too much about you" line is still kinda overshadowed by the "But I wanna be a mutant" joke. That joke makes him laugh, he jokes back without missing a beat, and it's a cute little bonding moment between him and Sole. Romance isn't just overt flirting, it's the little things that make you think the other person is special. How many people do you think can make Danse laugh? Especially about becoming a Super Mutant, right after being told about Cutler? Danse thinks Sole is funny. He thinks it's a cute little joke. He's charmed.

Then Sole sucker-punches him with an explicit ask of physical contact and emotional exploration and the moment is lost. For the Halyen talk, you could have an option where Sole asks, teasingly, if this is going on the report, and Danse laughs and contemplates what Maxson would think. Maybe he even comments about how rumors spread on the Prydwen, implying that he knows there is something between you two for people to gossip about. This would later tie in to The Reveal, where Maxson says the same thing.

[cryptidcorners]

hi!!! i love how you write so much and i,,,

so... since vanessa mentions being a trained EMT in the movie, what if reader ends up getting hurt by one of the animatronics (be it accidental or not) and vannessa takes the time to patch them up! maybe after, she ends up teasing the reader about their racing pulse, considering they are flustered with the personal attention from nessa.

just a silly little gay thought 🤭

Electric - Vanessa Shelly x F!Reader

Description: While being accompanied by Vanessa during one of your shifts, a quick checkup towards one of the animatronics results in you being shocked and knocked out. Luckily, Vanessa rushes to your aid and comforts you while patching you up.

# requested by anon

Media: FNaF!Movie

Character: Vanessa Shelly

Tags: Romantic Implications, Fluff, Sweet Talk, Mutual Care, Encouragement, Opening Up, Connecting, Playful Vanessa, Flustered Reader, Co-Workers to ? ? ? + F!Reader.

Warnings: Injury (Electric Shock), Descriptions of Burns, Blood, Unconscious, Brief Descriptions from Vanessa's Childhood (Abuse), Some Tension + Anxiety from Vanessa, Possible FNaF Spoilers

Read my TOS, Thanks!

"So, how long have you been working here for?" You asked, hands delicately twisting the rusted gears within the metallic mascot's darkened skeletal figure. You were struggling to get inside this trap, even why animatronics this ancient, their parts wouldn't be hard to twist. Nor smell as bad.

"Years after it closed," Vanessa answered. She had been feeling antsy staying put and watching you work, so tidying had been her priority for the last couple hours of the night. "believe it or not, it's only been recently that this place has required night guards. As soon as I became an officer, applications started opening for more security."

"Really?" You hummed, face fixed on Bonnie's complex systems. You scratched the side of your head, sweat oozing from your face. You had been told the machine had been acting unorthodox as soon as the power went on, as well as that error in his guitar. "Must have been some wild kids then if it needed more than some iron fence." Curiously, you began walking towards the still animatronics instrument. Fingers treading lightly before tinkering with it. Vanessa's eyes flickered wildly, and she screamed, "Wait, no! His guitar-"

It was too late. Soon, your vision was engulfed in white stems of electricity and wild baby blues. You yelped before falling off the stage, falling unconscious almost immediately as dark seeped into your gaze.

Your mind was plagued with a yellow haze, as well as your sight. You blinked rapidly, head twisting with pain. When your eyes began to clear, you could see a tall figure looming over your body. As the seconds drifted by, your senses began to grow back to normal. You could feel your wrists stinging as she wrapped a thick bandage around your cindered skin.

You winced, "Shit."

"Oh, thank God." Vanessa breathed, "You're awake."

You heaved, cringing coldly as pain skyrocketed through your veins. "What happened?" Your lip quivered, jaw twitching as you tried to read your current situation. You could feel blood oozing through your arms and legs which were hugged by white layers. "Oh, fuck." You coughed. Agony gripped your body, making you shutter.

"Take it easy," Vanessa grabbed your shoulder tenderly. Your eyes turned to Vanessa nervously. Maybe it was the shock, or it was something else you couldn't put your finger on. Vanessa frowned, rubbing her thumb to ease your anxiety. "Bonnie's guitar was unstable, and even at the simplest of touches, it can explode. It's not too severe most of the time, but still, it can hurt like hell."

You blinked, "When Steve said it was broken, he never said anything about it exploding." You tried to catch your breath. Vanessa hushed, "Calm down, alright? You're fine." She assured you, voice low as a whisper. "Just take a breath."

You inhaled sharply before releasing. After you did, Vanessa wrapped another section of your arms, which made your stomach twist. You never realized until now how much detail her face held so close, it was memorizing. And nerve-wracking for some odd reason. You were growing more flustered by the second, and she began to notice. Vanessa rested her hand near your chest, and you swore you could see stars.

"Your pulse is crazy fast," she said with a chuckle. You blushed, chuckling weakly. Vanessa pulled her hand away, "You look dazed. What are you so nervous about?"

"Nothing." You answered softly. Vanessa tilted her head, obviously intrigued. "Really?"

She rested her touch against your pulse again, making you shutter. Vanessa giggled, "Are you flustered? Because of me?" She gasped, "You are." Vanessa sounded almost giddy at that, childishly so. You defended yourself, "No, no. I'm just, trying to get my head together. I'm just out of it."

She teased, "Are you sure? I don't care if you get a little red around me. We all get crushes." Vanessa read your starstruck face and smiled once more before applying a light bandage to your cheek. "You feeling better?"

"Just a bit." You laid down, catching your breath. "I'm sorry I put you through this." Your eyes awkwardly shifted to your wrapped hands.

"It's alright, it was a mistake. As long as you're fine, I'm fine." Vanessa began packing away the bright red kit, eyelashes batting as she spoke. Internally, she was furious. Her father lied to you, probably to get you weak. He probably wanted her to leave you burned on the ground and leave the children to clean up everything. That's how it always had been. She was always cleaning up his messes, even as a little girl. It was horrible. Her nails dug against the table with a strangled huff, "You are okay, right?"

"Thanks to you." You told her. You sat up again and nudged your gaze ahead. "A little help?"

"Shit, right." Vanessa walked toward and you felt her warm hands around your sides. She could tell you were screaming inside, and that stole a smirk from her almost immediately. "Hey, if you fall, I'll catch you. My arms are always open,"

"Thanks for the offer." You played along.

You struggled to get on your feet for a couple short seconds, with Vanessa holding you delicately. You were able to walk again, just before the crack of dull dawn. You started gathering your tools with Vanessa next to you. She was toying with her hair when you met her gaze. You shyly extended your hand, "Thank you for helping me . . . You really didn't have to."

"I wanted to." She grabbed your hand and shook it, "I'd love to help you. Well, whenever you need it."

You both remained silent for a minute. And her eyes wandered down to your lips before you cleared your throat, "I hope we can keep in touch?"

"Yes, of course. But, not here, y'know?" She says seriously. "It was a pleasure being with you."

Your heart grew heavy and you couldn't squeeze out anything. You simply waved with a warm expression and walked out into the parking lot. For the first time in your life, you had truly felt something electric. Not just the shock from Bonnie, but from Vanessa.

[ruh--roh-raggy]

Home Sweet Home (William Afton x Wife! Reader) - Part 3

Hello hello! Welcome to part 3 of Home Sweet Home! Today we get a very special flashback into Reader and William's past. This one is tooth rottingly sweet so I hope you're prepared hehe. As always thank all of you so much for reading, if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!!

WARNINGS: Reader gets grabbed by the wrist by the guy who she was supposed to go on a date with, some swearing, other than that just the fluffiest of fluff

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word count: 2,673

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I'm going to go grab some more things from the other room!” William exclaims over the pounding music. He had said he thought of a way to make unpacking more fun, but you never expected this. William had this old stereo system that since you had gotten together lived in a corner in his garage. You would always fuss over it, trying to get him to take it out. “The mice have probably chewed a bunch of the wires in it, it would be more of a hassle to fix than it’s worth.” He'd explain. “I'll probably just buy a new one if we ever decide we need it, bunny.” So, when he pushed a large blanket covered object into your room you were definitely a little confused. You shot him a curious look when he revealed that it was the sound system you had been begging him to pull out for ages. “She's good as new, ready for my pretty girl to listen to music whenever she wants!” He says proudly, patting the top. The system worked like a dream, even though it was a bit outdated. You flipped through records before finally deciding on what you wanted to listen to, your husband chuckling as the music blared and you began to dance around the room. The little distracting from your mundane activity helped you work a little faster, and before you knew it your bedroom was mostly finished. William re entered the room with the final few boxes that needed to be put away, setting them in the corner as he watched you twirled around the floor. He loved how his heart still raced whenever he looked at you, the steady thrumming in his chest bringing a smile to his face. He strides forward with the same shaky confidence he had when you first had gotten together. You paused as you noticed him approach, looking at him with those same bright eyes that always managed to make his breath catch in his throat. He gives you a slight bow, the soft static of the record trying to fill in the silence between songs. He holds out his hand to you, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you smile.

“Would you like to dance bunny?” The pure adoration that dripped from his voice threatened to make you tear up, and for just a moment a slightly younger version of you had flashed before his eyes. You had looked so pretty the first time he had asked you to dance with him, but he couldn't argue that the sight before him was even more beautiful. Your hair a complete mess from working all day, your baggy cleaning clothes seemed to hang perfectly off of your frame. He never stopped loving a single thing about you. But, your first dance together would always hold a special place in both your hearts.

“He’s taking me out dancing.” You squeal along with your co-worker, talking about the date you had planned later.

“Dancing, huh?” You jump slightly as a voice suddenly chimes in behind you. You noticed your coworker straighten up as her eyes landed on the man behind you. You turned to find Mr. Afton, a smirk on his lips, you could feel the anger swimming in his eyes. “Didn’t know guys your age still did that sort of thing.” As soon as it was there it was gone, his eyes softening as his smirk turned into his usual charming, lopsided smile. You felt your heartbeat quicken at the sight of it.

“Well, I told him I always wanted someone to take me dancing.” You admit bashfully, feeling a bit silly for admitting such a childish, romantic fantasy.

“A beautiful young woman like yourself deserves someone who takes them out.” He responds as his gaze flickers over your face. “Although, I wouldn’t get your hopes up, he might not be the right man for the job.” He adds with a slight tilt of his head, his eyes flash away from you before he clears his throat. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go, uh… elsewhere.” He nods politely before hurrying off. You exchange a look with your coworker.

“What in the Faz-Fuck was that all about?” You both break out into a fit of giggles at the “workplace appropriate” swear word before you just shrugged.

You stood outside of Freddy’s, you and your date agreeing to meet there because you didn’t want to give him your address. You watched car after car pass by but none of them ever turned into the lot. You checked your watch, it was about an hour after the time he was supposed to pick you up. You wrapped your jacket tighter around you, your teeth beginning to chatter as you waited in the night. You jumped as the door next to you suddenly pushed open. William stepped outside with his keys in hand, a tight black sweatshirt over his work shirt accentuated his broad shoulders. He glanced over at you, briefly turning back to the lock before his brow furrowed in confusion and his eyes snapped back to you. “You’re still here?” He straightens up, taking a few steps closer to you. Your eyes slowly trailed upwards in order to meet his as he walked forward. “I saw your car pull in an hour ago, is everything alright?”

“He was supposed to meet me here. I,uh, I think he might’ve stood me up.” Your throat grew tight as shame washed over your body. You couldn’t have felt more pathetic if you tried. A young eager girl with hearts in her eyes as she excitedly talked about her date all day just to get stood up.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your skin buzzed where his hand rested on your shoulder. “If he stood you up he’s a Faz-Fucking idiot.” He manages to get a small laugh out of you, making him smile softly. Before you had a chance to respond, a beat up car that’s front bumper was held on by duct tape came screeching to a halt in front of the restaurant. Your date's head pops out of the window.

“Get in.” He commands before disappearing back inside the car. You noticed William bite at the inside of his cheek.

“Bit rude to not open the door for her, isn't it, chief?” William calls in an antagonizing tone. You could tell how he tensed up before his hand fell away from your shoulder that he intended to teach this guy a lesson. The driver's side door flew open as your date climbed out.

“You got a problem, old man?” William cocks an eyebrow at his insult.

“I may be old you little punk,” he spits, “but I know that’s absolutely no way to treat a woman.” His voice was dangerously calm, not a single waiver of emotion in his tone.

“Oh be fucking forreal,” he rolls his eyes, “you’re just pissed that you can’t flirt with someone half your age, pervert.” He barged forward, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you in the direction of his car. Your eyes dart to William, the only thing that would make you feel safe in your moment of fear. You caught the sight of a snarl forming on his face.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” William growls, rushing up on him. He immediately dropped your wrist, stumbling backwards and falling straight onto his ass. William steps in front of you, half blocking your body with his towering form. “You were an hour late to pick her up, you’ve been acting like a jackass since you pulled up, and on top of that you’re grabbing her like she’s some piece of meat.” His voice boomed across the empty lot. His fists shook by his side, his shoulders heaving with his heavy breaths as he filled with rage. William points at the guy's car. “You better get the fuck off of this property, and if I ever see you around here again or see you anywhere near her, I will personally introduce that moronic face of yours to the fucking concrete. Do I make myself clear?” He scrambled for his car, peeling out of the lot before his door was even fully closed. The moment his car was out of sight his attention immediately shifted to you, ready to swoop in and save the day when you needed him most. “Are you okay? How’s your wrist?”

“William, I’m so sorry.” Your voice shook as you fought back the tears that welled up in your eyes.

“Oh, rabbit,” he coos at you, taking your hands in his, “you don’t have anything to apologize for. That guy was a jackass.” He places a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. “He doesn’t deserve someone like you.” He brushes some stray hair from your cheek, his soft smile making your heart flutter. His thumb rubs languidly over your knuckles, “come inside for a bit, you’re frozen.” He opens up the door for you, motioning for you to head in before him. “Unlike that scumbag I plan on holding the door.” He winks at you, causing you to flush slightly. You reluctantly let your hand slip from his as you stepped inside, his calloused fingers warm against your much smaller, more delicate ones. He took your coat, hanging it up on the side of a booth you slid into. “I’m going to go make some coffee, even if you don’t drink it just hold it. Your hands are like ice.” You nod, watching as he disappears into the kitchen. You trace along the cracks in the old linoleum table, mentally berating yourself over how stupid you were. “Here you go, sweetheart.” You can’t help but smile when you’re met with the sight of his lopsided grin.

“Thank you.” You respond softly. He studies you, trying to gauge what you need from him at the moment. “I’m really embarrassed.” You admit with a dry chuckle. “Here I am getting myself all worked up for this date…” your voice cracks as the need to cry wells up in your throat. You try your best to clear it, not wanting to appear as weak as you felt in front of him. “It was stupid anyways.” You shrug, trying your best to force a smile despite the fact you felt a tear slowly rolling down your cheek.

“Honey, it’s not stupid for you to want someone to treat you the way you deserve.” He reaches out, cupping your cheek and wiping at the wet trail. He stood, holding out his hand to you, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. “If it’s alright with you I’d like to give you that dance you were looking forward to.” You reached out for him, your fingers shaking with anticipation. He guided you gently from the booth, a stark contrast from how roughly you were grabbed before. He motioned for you to wait a moment, heading next to the stage to kick a jukebox to life. Instead of the usual stage show songs you were used to he had flipped to something a bit slower, more romantic. He spins you around before his arm slides around your waist, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he gazes down at you.

“Is this a bad time to admit I’ve never really danced before?” You ask with a nervous giggle. William breathes out a laugh, shaking his head.

“I’ll go slow, just let my body lead yours.” You flush as you feel the heat radiating off of his strong chest as he pulls you in closer. It felt effortless as he moved you across the floor, your steps quickly being able to fall into time with his. Before you knew it he was waltzing you around the open space. He spun you around a few times before expertly pulling you back into his embrace. Your heart raced, you could feel it all the way in the tips of your fingers. His striking silver eyes remained locked on yours as he moved you in a way he knew that little douchebag never would have been able to pull off, it made him well up with a sense of pride. Before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life, and she was captivated by him and him alone. The smile that spread across your face as he dipped you low with the conclusion of the song was enough to have a shiver run up his spine. “For someone who’s never danced before you did amazing.” He winks.

“I think it’s because I had such a good partner.” You mumble shyly, heat rising in your cheeks as you feel his thumb run across your waist. His eyes flash down to your lips, swallowing thickly before letting his gaze slowly trace up to meet yours again. “William, I, um…” you trail off as anxiety creeps forward in your mind. He was just being nice to you, that’s all this was.

“What is it, rabbit?” His voice comes out low and gravelly, words dripping with need like honey off of his tongue.

“That was really nice.” Your eyes dropped to the floor as you tried to push the thought of how badly you wanted to feel his lips on yours. “This is definitely better than the night I would've been having with that asshole.”

“I know I keep saying this but he doesn't deserve someone like you.” He brushes some hair from your face before holding both of your hands in his. “He wouldn't notice how your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about or how adorable you look when you're flustered. He doesn’t know what your favorite color is or your favorite pizza toppings or your favorite movie.” Your eyes widened slightly as you realized that he was listing off things he had proven he knew about you in the past. “You are beautiful and so unbelievably kind and if I wasn’t such a damn coward I would’ve done this sooner.” His hand drops yours, moving to cup your face as he presses into you. A broken whimper escapes your lips as your hands fist into the soft material of his sweatshirt. The hand that still rested on your hip slid around your waist as he pressed you flush against him, lifting you up onto the tips of your toes to make it easier to kiss you. You gasped as he pulled back from you, both of you staring at one another wide eyed and breathless.

“Can I take you out on a date sometime?” The question fell from his mouth hurriedly, as if he was afraid if he didn’t ask it then he would never be able to say it.

“Yes.” Your answer was immediate, giving him a firm nod. Your face felt hot and damp, the remnant of the tears you hadn’t realized you let flow freely stained your cheeks. William breathes out a relieved and almost triumphant chuckle before he pulls you back into him, your mind getting lost in the taste of the bitter coffee and his own undeniable sweetness as it dances across your tongue.

William smiles at the sight before him, he would never get tired of the way his beautiful wife looked at him so lovingly. Your hand slipped into his, allowing him to spin you around the floor, your laughter blending melodically with the music. He pulls you into his arms, mimicking the steps he first taught you all those years ago. You had become a lot better over time, William loved to dance with you rather frequently. Your once clumsy movements now seemed as natural to you as walking. You laughed loudly as he dropped you into a low dip, your vision fully getting flipped upside down. You caught the sight of a red pick up truck pulling up your driveway. William pulls you upright. “Looks like we got some company.” He says with a wink.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery @loudchaosking @weirdoartist21 @residentevilbeast (If I miss you or you would like to me added please let me know!)

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Rubrum

Pairings: Drilla “Dan” Moloney x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 551 words

Warnings: +18 smut, explicit adult content and language, mild degradation, public sex, dirty talk.

A/N: This will probably get zero interactions, however, I needed to at least get it out of my system. Even if it was a small drabble.

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @bayleymania , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

Beneath the red lighting, the dirty mirror had a foggy reflection. The smoke of his cigarette being blown against the skin of your neck added a much-needed warmth to your body. His hands traveled up your torso, soon closing around your covered breasts and squeezing the soft flesh with his calloused fingers.

His chest was pressed against your back, and his grunts filled up the bathroom as you circled your hips around his clothed erection. Upon the half-lit mirror, your reflections danced as your bodies moved to the rhythm of the music playing in the pub’s speakers.

“Pull it up” Dan whispered against your ear, toying with the hem of your vinyl skirt before tossing the cigarette bud over his shoulder. One of his tanned hands closed around your hip, squeezing the soft flesh and reveling in the feeling of it filling up his hand, as the other locked on your hair, tugging at the scalp until your eyes met in the mirror.

“Keep looking at me, just like that. I want to see your face as you take every inch of my cock”.

The hand against your hip quickly traveled down to push your purple lace thong to the side, holding it in place as he aimed his tip against your entrance. “Don’t move!” Dan gave a warning tug on your hair before slowly entering you.

“Fuck” You whisper, grabbing onto the sink for some kind of support. “Slow, please”, Your hand reached back to hold onto his hair, “I want to feel every inch of you inside of me”.

His animalistic growl rumbled against your ear “Feeling greedy, aren’t we? My Munkie wants to be filled with cock?”.

Dan’s teeth closed around your ear lobe as you nodded in response. “I want all of it”

“I’ll give you all of it” He sank deeper into you, pushing your body closer to the sink, making you moan.

“How can I say no to that? I can’t. Munks always gets what she wants” Dan laid an open mouth kiss on your cheek before he continued “That tight cunt is so fucking perfect. No matter how much I fuck it, it’s always so tight and wet for me. Fuck, you’re perfect”.

His dark brown eyes were fixed on your reflection at the same time his hand let go of your hair to close around your neck, “So fucking beautiful” Dan praised, your back arching to fit more of him.

His hand traveled forward stopping at your bundle of nerves, he circled around the engorged flesh with a grunt, “See what you do to me, Munkie? You make me so fucking hard for you”.

Your legs trembled from pleasure, your mouth hung open in a silent ‘o’ shape, and your hand closed around Dan’s hair to pull his face closer to yours. Turning your face to the side, you pulled him down for a heated kiss.

“You’re mine, all mine”. He whispered against your parted lips before kissing it again. His warm saliva touched your taste buds as a glob of spit fell onto your tongue. Your wicked smile made his cock throb, “Fuck me like a plaything, sir. Your plaything”.

The last thing you saw before your face was pressed against the mirror was the satisfied smirk plastered on Dan’s lips.

[faef43]

PLS LOOK THE REBLOGGED POST I MADE OF THIS POST TO CONTINUE MY TIPS

HERE ARE SOME TIPS PLUS STORES TO AVOID

ALWAYS ADDING MORE SO CHECK BACK

I’ve been lifting for awhile and have collected some good tips and tricks on how to not get caught or be put in a system

-CAMERAS/MAIN TIPS-

I mainly lift small things like makeup, jewelry, small skincare, rings, pins, if it’s a good day maybe small lotions, but lifting clothes tips are coming soon!! (fixing spelling/grammar errors <3)

First of all, wear a mask and if you can style your hair in a way you usually don’t or use a beanie, bucket hat, baseball cap, never a sun hat way too suspicious. Ex. for hair: braids, space buns, slicked back, etc. I wouldn’t suggest lifting if you have brightly colored hair unless you want to go as far as to wear a realistic enough looking natural wig. Never wear sunglasses with a mask or a hat on, very suspicious, they will catch on. While finding blind spots never just turn around to face the wall and start stuffing your pockets and bag(s), instead stand at a 3/4 angle and be slick, I suggest lifting things while walking through a crowed isle, section, or doing it while walking, this one usually works if you have something small you can make it look like you’re adjusting your sleeves. ALWAYS GRAB 2 OF THE ITEM U WANT 2 LIFT, make the second one less apparent you have it, but if you take two and always keep one apparently in your hand, the cameras will be fooled. You have to have some sort of fingernails to scratch off price tags/barcodes/stickers, trust me when lifting you don’t want those on there. Take them off, rip them up and stuff it in your pocket or stuff somewhere non apparent, never throw them on the ground, super obvious. Don’t wear all baggy clothing, it’s really suspicious, always do the half half trick, half of your outfit baggy, half tight. Ex. Really tight shirt, hella baggy pants, really baggy hoodie, tight ass jeans or leggings. That way they won’t suspect you. If doing the baggy hoodie, always wear a secure sports bra underneath if u wear bras, great for slipping stuff into when pretending to adjust your bra, make sure your double of the product you want to lift is visible. By all means do not steal from target, they have high trained LP, workers that dress up as normal shoppers that they send to areas where they seek suspicion to spy on you, they keep you in a data base and share info/pics of you with other targets, cameras are nearly always monitored, store security is present, they let you walk out with things but eventually will confront you. The decision to call the police has already been made, target is a scary place, if you are gonna lift do only a 3-6 dollar thing, only once. Their employees count clothes for dressing rooms often times, pretty scary place stay safe. Some cameras are smoke detectors/speakers,boxes on the ceiling ect. Usually they’ll have some sort of light that’s always on, they look a little chunky or too far away from the ceiling. Claire’s has a ton of these so be carful, but their earrings don’t have any censors on them so they’re a great store for beginners. Interact with this post and I’ll add more too this blog♡ . -CLOTHING TIPS- If a clothing store does not have fitting rooms, don’t even try, they’ll immediately catch on+security cameras are your number one snitch. You’re gonna want to pay attention to if store employees suspect you. Ex. Fixing up areas that you’re at or around u, constant asking if you’re finding everything ok, maybe they’ll offer a store basket or bag, asking if you need anything in specific, any constant attention really. If they are leave the store, come back like a week later and try again. Your gonna wanna bring a hook with you to remove ink tags/clothing alarms while in fitting room, keep it down and try to pick a fitting room away from others to avoid suspicion. Some stores have employees stand in empty stalls next to you and listen so be aware and careful. If there are price tags try stuffing them behind the mirror or on in the landings on the floor, they’re sometimes rubber, don’t leave shit on the floor, if they already suspect u, they’ll check the fitting room when you come out. As for the alarms/ink tags, put them in ur pocket and discreetly shove them in another piece of clothing, remember to ALWAYS CHECK POCKETS ON CLOTHING.im abt to max out, look at repost of this from me 4more

ALWAYS CHECK POCKETS/COMPARTMENTS ON CLOTHING. Other lifters could have stuffed clothing alarms or price tags in there, be safe and check before trying to lift. No as where to conceal these clothing items, if you have the baggy hoody, (I suggest wearing a baggy shirt underneath too, always wear that sports bra if u wear bras{binders can also work it’s just hella uncomfy I’ve tried it})put 1-3 tops on under ur baggy T then put ur hoodie back on. Make sure they don’t count items b4 going into changing rooms. If they do, try taking a hoodie on some sort of hanger, taking it off the hanger, putting 1-2 shirts on the hanger, then put the hoodie/zip up back on. Great for lifting, if they confront you say you didn’t know and you were just tossing things in the cart, get out of there fast afterwards. It’s suspicious if you come in with a ton of clothes then don’t buy anything, sometimes you gotta buy some to win some. (Ex. I’m wearing 3 shirts under my og shirt which would add up to about 35 bucks, I buy a cheap tank top for 15, they don’t suspect me and I get freebies)

[luvhughes43]

bad idea right? | jack hughes x reader

guts masterlist🦋

summary: olivia rodrigos new song, bad idea right?

word count: 1.5k

warnings: light? smut idk i've never done this before

ynuser

📍guts club

liked by jackhughes, irisapatow, madisonhu, and others

ynuser i cant even hear my thoughts

the tequila, and the pink whitney shots were coursing through your veins as you danced with your friends among a mass of other 20-somethings your age. you let loose. you had been broken up with your boyfriend, jack hughes, for months now and so who could blame you for hitting a club with your best group of friends? 

before you knew it though, you were dragged into the clubs dingy bathroom so your friend could reapply some of her lip gloss. 

ex bf (jack): 1 missed call

you had no idea why your ex would be calling you. sure your breakup was amicable, but that hadn’t meant that the two of you kept in touch. after jack had broken up with you, claiming that the long distance while he would be in michigan for the summer would be too much, you hadn’t reached out. and he hadn't either. 

you stepped away from the bathroom's large mirror and your group of friends, claiming that you needed to use the bathroom real quick. you walked into the furthest stall, away from the loud music, and quickly dialled jack back. all the alcohol in your system not letting you question whether or not calling him was a good idea or not. 

he picked up on the second ring. “y/n,” jack breathed into the receiver, almost sounding relieved that you had called him back. 

“hello,” your giggles were muffled as you moved your hand to cup your lips. you really should not have called him back.

“are you out right now?” jack asked, already knowing the answer. he had seen your insta post earlier, with the club you were at tagged, and it was with that information that he knew you were close to his new apartment.

“yeah i am, where are you?” you responded, leaning your head back against the stall door. you knew you only had about one more minute before your friends questioned your lengthy bathroom visit, so you prayed jack would speed things up. plus, the less time he took asking you to go over, the less time you had to think of an excuse not to go.

“i’m at my new place.. you should come check it out. its near that club that you're at,” 

“y/n! are you good in there?” your best friend's shouts carried throughout the crowded bathroom. you could hear the drunk bathroom talk, and you could imagine the long queue to the bathroom stalls.

you tilted your phone away from your mouth before loudly responding, “yeah! just one minute!” 

seeing jack tonight… it was a bad idea right? 

ex bf (jack): here's my address: 

ex bf (jack) sent his location 📍 

fuck it, its fine. 

you brought the phone back to your lips, “i'll be there in twenty?” 

“see you soon, i can't wait to give you the grand tour,” jack chuckles lightly and you can't help but smile. you swore his voice made you feel things…

you end the call just as your friends start banging on the stall door. 

“it's been like five minutes, are you seriously good?” one of your friends shouts as she tries to wiggle your door open. you step away from the stall door, quickly flushing before fixing your hair. you had to act normal around them and not at all like you were possibly, maybe, about to hook up with your ex whom you hadn’t seen in months. 

you unlocked the stall door just as your friend's hand beat against it. the door swings open, knocking your hand and sending your phone tumbling to the ground. “is she done in there?” some random girl yells as she shoves her way into the bathroom. she pushes your phone out beneath the stall with her foot as she slams the door shut in your face. 

“asshole,” your friend whispers as she reaches down and picks your phone up for you. she stands up, staring down at your phone screen while the bathroom buzzes around you. “jack?” she finally questions, turning your phone towards you. your heart races, worried your friend had somehow stumbled across yours and jacks open text messages. how would you explain that? your friends would definitely tell you not to meet up with him and well… you wanted jack bad. 

jackhughes

liked by trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, and others

jackhughes back in NJ😈🔥🏒

you snatched your phone back, and let out a loud sigh of relief as you realized your friend was just looking at jacks instagram that was at the top of your feed. “why haven't you unfollowed him yet?” she questioned, and you just shrugged. you peered at the photos again as your group of friends rejoined the others on the dance floor and… wow. you immediately lost all thoughts and coherence… this boy would be the death of you. you couldn't think of anyone hotter than him. 

you waited for your opportunity to escape. you would text your friends that you left and that you were tired as soon as you made it on the bus. luckily for you, there were buses shuttling people around every 15 minutes, so you wouldn’t have to wait long if it came down to it. 

“you single?” a guy shouted into your ear as he started dancing near you. you nodded, realizing that this could be another way out… if your friends saw you chatting up some guy, you would have an excuse to go “missing” for a while…

you slung one of your arms around the guy's shoulder as you continued jumping up and down to the music (your form of dancing), as you tried to catch one of your friends' eyes. 

it only took you half a song for one of your friends to notice the new guy, and she immediately gave you a small hands up. he's cute! your friend mouthed and you nodded enthusiastically to portray your part. you couldn't wait to see jack. 

“GOT ME LOOKING SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW! YOUR LOVES GOT ME LOOKING SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW!” the crowd roared as everyone started screaming the lyrics to beyonces, crazy in love. this was your opportunity. none of your friends were paying attention to you, and you quickly signalled to the guy you were with that you had to use the bathroom… he nodded, taking his hands off of you and letting you leave. 

you barely spare your friends a glance as you grip your phone tight in your hand and squeeze through the crowd of people on the dance floor. 

the cold outside air sobers you up quickly, and before you can even think about what you were about to do you make it to the bus station. 

ex bf (jack): can't wait to see you ;)

❤️ you hearted one message

｡･ﾟﾟ･ʚɞ･ﾟﾟ･｡

jack's front door was hard against your fist. you banged on his door fast and hard, and he immediately opened it, ushering you inside and out of the rain. 

“i’m kind of surprised you came,” jack says, very obviously checking you out. you were soaked and wet from the heavy rain. 

“i'm kind of surprised you called,” you rebutted, causing jack to smile cockily at you. he shrugged his shoulders, “figured you’d want to see the new place,” he waved his hand, proudly displaying his new home for the year. 

“It's nice,” you confirmed, shrugging off your wet sweater as you stepped further inside jacks living room. 

“i thought you’d like to see my bedroom specifically,” jack laughed at your raised eyebrows. you had never seemed to get used to how straightforward he was. you recovered quickly though, huskily whispering, “show me?”

jack wasted no time dragging you into his bedroom. he grabbed the wet sweater that was still clutched to your chest and threw it across his bedroom before pushing you down onto his bed. 

“i need you so bad jacky,” you moaned softly as he started peeling your top up and off you. he pressed his lips against your jaw, and slowly trailed kisses down to the base of your neck. 

“i missed seeing you like this,” jack groaned against your neck as you moved your hands to undo the strings of his sweats. “should’ve never let you go so easily huh?” he whispered in your ear and it was your turn to let out a groan as he pushed your hands away from him and moved his knee to rest in between your thighs. 

“please jack,” you gasp, staring jack in the eyes as he expertly nips and licks at one of your boobs while one of his hands massages the other. 

“please what?” he responds teasingly as he briefly pulls back from your chest before giving your other boob some attention. his thumb brushes against your other nipple, and you hum in satisfaction before bringing your own hand up to tug on his now overgrown hair.  

“i need you,” you whimper, and not even a minute later jack is pulling your skirt off and ripping off his sweats. 

Yes, I know that he's my ex

But can't two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

The biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex

But can't two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

I just tripped and fell into his bed

[copperbadge]

I am so close to being done with Royals/Ramblers I can taste it, and it's one of those frustrating situations where the last remaining work to be done is just annoying. I have to write one damn scene, which of course is the most emotionally fraught and difficult one, and then pick from the *counts on fingers* three separate versions of the epilogue I wrote, none of which are very satisfying. I'll probably slam them all together and then sort it out somehow.

And then I definitely have to give the whole thing one more pass before I think about posting, because it's going to clock in at right around 150K words, and I already have notes on continuity issues that need fixing.

Anyway, please enjoy this scene, in which I realized at the same time Gregory and Eddie did what a great joke their names make. (Some brief context -- Joan uses she/her but doesn't like the word "princess", so she chose the gender neutral Princeps as her title.)

Friday evening, when Gregory came on the air for the address, Eddie was sitting next to him, and Joan was leaning on Eddie's shoulder. Her excitement was almost a visible thing; she'd been fussed over that afternoon, Gregory helping her pick out clothing followed by Jerry doing her makeup for camera and Eddie doing a slightly less clumsy job of braiding her hair than she generally did. 

"Good evening, Fons-Askaz, Askazer-Shivadlakia, our neighbors, and our viewers abroad," Gregory said. Behind the camera, Jerry mouthed the words along with him absently. "I'm pleased to greet you all this Friday evening and I hope you're well. I find myself, for the second time in a year, setting aside the usual issues of the day and questions from citizens to talk to you about family...."

His idea had been to talk about Joan's history just a little, then introduce her as the newest Royal, their daughter the Princeps. He could use that as a platform to present to the country his new funding package for adoptive families, meant to encourage adoption and support children coming out of the foster system. Each half of that would hopefully make the other half seem less random.

It went pretty smoothly; Eddie chimed in at all the right moments, and Joan got to say a few words of introduction at the end. After he signed off, he gave her a hug and a forehead-kiss and told her she'd done a great job. 

And then Noah, standing with Monday and Jerry behind the camera in the little studio, said, "Well, you crashed the internet again."

Gregory sighed. "Can't blame Eddie this time, can we?" 

"It was only the tourism website, and it wasn't on purpose," Eddie said. 

"He was always breaking my stuff when we were kids," Monday said.

"Nope, this one's all Joan," Noah replied. "As soon as you introduced her as your daughter, traffic started spiking -- palace website, tourism website, and every royals' Photogram."

"Katie in Communications says told you so," Jerry said, already on the phone with her.

"Joan's Photogram is down, looks like bandwidth-suck. And there goes mine, and yours," Noah said, nodding at Gregory. "There's two hashtags trending, PrincessJoan and PrincepsJoan." 

"Let me call my guy at Photogram," Eddie said, taking his phone out. 

"You have a guy just like, at Photogram?" Monday asked.

"Yeah, he handles my requests, I send him sausages," Eddie answered. 

"How is it you simultaneously live in the 22nd century and the 14th?" Monday asked. 

"Have him kill the Princess hashtag," Noah suggested.

"It's fine," Joan said. "They can use it for now, it'll keep things, um." She narrowed her eyes, searching for the word. "Segmented. Spread out the discussion a little."

"Someone's been reading my data analytics memos," Gregory said. 

"You leave 'em out," she pointed out. 

"Good news is people seem excited," Noah continued. "The hashtag's glitching, it's moving so fast, but overall pretty positive," he added.

"Well, we knew this would be intense," Gregory said. Joan, studying her own phone, squeaked. "Joan?" 

"Mas Corbin tagged me," she said, with possibly the most excitement they'd seen from her, at least since her first trip in the Jaguar. 

"The footballer?" Gregory asked, confused.

"Who?" Noah and Eddie chorused. 

"He's a Shivadh footballer, I think he's playing in Ireland right now," Gregory said, and his voice took on a slight edge as he considered some of the reasons a football player might mention his daughter. "What did he say?" 

"Dedicating my next game to my new Princeps JoanMac, long may she reign," Joan read, and Gregory relaxed. "Congrats to Gin&Tonic, she's cute as a button. Mas Corbin thinks I'm cute!"

"Gin and Tonic?" Gregory asked, and then said, "Gregory and Theophile," right as Eddie and Monday both began to laugh. "How did neither of us think of that before?"

"You get used to it," Noah said to Joan. "All kinds of famous people are going to have opinions on you."

"What do I do?!"

"Gram him back," Noah said. "Comment and say thanks and that you're a fan and you'll be watching the game."

"I'm gonna have to do a video with some gin and tonic recipes," Eddie said, as Noah and Joan debated the best wording for her response. Gregory leaned back in his chair, exhaling, and let the chaos happen around him for a minute. 

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 20 - Under the Covers

Summary: Eddie enlists the guys for help to surprise you and quickly learns that there might be something a little more sinister in all of their pasts.

Word Count: 937

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OC (The Knight from As Above, So Below, written in 2nd person POV you/your for immersion) You do not need to read AASB to read this but if you're interested in more of Eddie's fluffy adventures into the world of monsters and cryptids, Heaven and the Hymns of Heaven miniseries are for you.

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Unofficial official Hymn of Heaven, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Eddie is simping hard, Fluff, allusion to monsters and nightmares, DnD references

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

October 1984

You had a great relationship with Eddie's friends.

Enough that sometimes Eddie questioned whether they preferred your company over his. You brought them snacks, showed Gareth how to parallel park, and even helped Dave with his research paper for English. He couldn't fault them. Despite your flaws, you were pretty much the gold standard of Dungeon Master's Girlfriend if there ever was one.

What was it they said? When god made you they broke the mold?

So when he went to his friends to ask for their help to surprise you, he was confident that they would say yes.

And they did.

You'd been busy picking up shift after shift at Bradleys. Almost too busy for dates and outings, but you always carved out free time for Eddie and the guys.

But you deserved the world, so Eddie had a plan.

He, of course, had a key to your little apartment, and decided to smuggle the guys over one afternoon to set up a night in for the two of you. Snacks and subs from the deli and the most epic blanket fort anyone had ever seen. He'd pretty much brought every single sheet, blanket, pillow, and couch cushion from the trailer over to your place and asked the guys to do the same.

"Star Wars bedsheets Gare?" he scoffed when the younger boy revealed his contribution.

"You're one to talk, what the hell is this? Butterflies?" Gareth slapped Eddie's otherwise-neat pile, sending everything tumbling to the ground.

"Alright! Focus!" Jeff intervened before the fight would inevitably break out. "What time is her shift over? We've gotta work fast."

Soon enough there were load-bearing pillow columns and vaulted ceilings made of a set of old starry bedsheets from someone’s childhood bedroom. The coffee table was shoved to the side and was stocked with all the food the two of you could ever want for your date, and in its place in the middle of the floor was a soft little nest of cushions and blankets. It was situated in front of your shitty, secondhand television set so you and Eddie could watch reruns of Love Boat together.

Of course the boys all had to make smoochie noises to mock their fearless leader.

At some point, while Eddie was inspecting everyone's handiwork to make sure it was perfect, the guys got restless, so they started to snoop.

"Hey what's this?"

Eddie looked up from his scrutinizing to find all three of them huddled together, flipping through the copy of A Modern Bestiary for the 20th Century.

"Put that down, it's nothing!”

"Uh," Jeff snorted. "It only looks like the coolest book ever. Look at this...harpies and selkies and...what is this? Anatomical nervous system of a dryad? Where did she get a book like this?"

Eddie quickly crossed the distance and snatched the prized tome out of Jeff's hands.

"Technically it's my book," he explained dismissively. "And it's not for adventuring parties. Only Dungeon Masters. Which, if I wasn’t mistaken, only includes me. Now help me fix this one blanket, you guys almost ruined this whole thing."

As they made their way back to fix the fort, Eddie dropped the book onto the cushy blanket nest and it fell open to a random page. A page featuring a creature that looked very similar to a fitted sheet, with claws at the elastic corners, and a face made up of the creases in the fabric.

Dave was the one to take note of it, rather nervously in fact.

"Hey, uh, I don't know about you guys," he tried to laugh it off. "But I think I've heard about something like that before. When I was a kid."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie hummed in disinterest.

"When I was younger my mom always told me not to sleep with the sheets over my head. Said they would suffocate me. Or the bed might swallow me whole."

"Funny," Gareth snorted. "I used to hide under the covers after bedtime and read comics with a flashlight. My mom said a creature would come and steal me away if I did that...that it would be drawn in by the light."

Then it was a domino effect. Jeff jumped in with his own story, and finally Eddie, who suddenly took the situation a little more seriously as he realized they all had warnings about a monster that lived at the foot of the bed.

They tip-toed closer to the book and cautiously read about the creature; it had some latin name they couldn't pronounce, but the pages about it were laden with warnings of portals and mimicry and devourer of sleeping people, and then they realized...that they might very well be surrounded by the creatures right now.

They suddenly closed ranks, huddled together, back to back, and stared at the fort they created in fear.

"What if the whole thing collapses and eats us?" Jeff asked.

"It can't eat all of us Jeff," Eddie scoffed. "We're gonna have to choose who to sacrifice so that the rest of us can make it."

The four of them glanced at each other, and then their hands jumped to their faces to stick a finger on their nose. Dave was the unfortunate loser of the Nose Goes.

"God damn it, why me?" he shouted, and then they all started to bicker.

Before long, pillows were wielded against one another and it was a flurry of arms and limbs and feathers and fluff. A pillow fight of epic proportions that practically destroyed the fort that they had just put together.

That was how you found them when you got home, wrestling under a pile of blankets from the collapsed pillow fort.

The movement stopped as you slammed the door shut, and Eddie's head popped out from some opening in the pile

"Hey sweetheart," he smiled sheepishly. "Uh...surprise!"

[milksockets]

i recently had a very heartwarming exchange… about a typo.

to start at the beginning, at some point during my first couple of weeks at this job, i stopped by my supervisor’s office to mention that i’m very good at spotting typos if that’s something that would ever come in handy. i was referring both to the blizzard of daily emails as well as the information system program we use for documentation. he laughed and said he appreciated it, but also that a lot of people - including himself - are writing emails and whatnot all day and don’t necessarily have the time or ability to catch such errors. i remember thinking “yeah, that’s something i hadn’t really considered” and went on my merry way. note: his office door was open during the exchange because the discussion was not super private or confidential so why the fuck wouldn’t it be.

so the next day, i am summoned into his office, with the door closed this time. turns out some lurking busybody cunt with nothing better to do was hovering around and overheard the conversation, and decided to report it to both him and the supervisor above him that it was inappropriate and “who is this nurse who just started here talking about typos.”

i was flabbergasted at the time, but since then, it’s become apparent just how many things of that nature happen in offices (or mine at least; i’ve never worked in one before). when it comes specifically to pointing out a panoply of constant typos, i am not doing so in a manner that translates to “you’re a fucking idiot and i want to make you feel bad about it.” i guess i foolishly thought people might be open to hearing about ways they could improve their writing to avoid miscommunication.

there have been other instances of this ilk, namely that this woman moved into the office with a door next to me (the rest is an open plan type deal) and never has her door closed, whether she’s screaming into her phone, having an irl meeting, or blasting a podcast. like go figure, that’s sort of distracting and wearing headphones is not a solution because then i can’t hear if someone is trying to get my attention (or sneaking up behind me while i’m online shopping). it soon became very apparent that simply asking this lady to close her fucking door because other people do work here - but in nicer words - had the potential to cause a dramatic upheaval in office politics. i also had said that i would hope anyone in the office with a similar issue with me or my team would feel comfortable simply bringing it up for resolution.

it’s insane to me that these instances of direct communication about practical matters affecting other people are almost taboo and that i’ve been considered “inappropriate” on several occasions for relaying such remarks. also don’t say you value feedback if you actually don’t. let’s not play pretend here.

anyway, yesterday i passed a piece of street art that said “fight facism” and the artist tagged their IG handle so i just messaged them to say i thought they might like to know it’s misspelled. they were so fucking grateful, and said they’re glad someone pointed it out so nicely so they can fix it for the next batch. truly the antidote to the fragile, wretched office bullshit and evidence that i am doing god’s work.

so the moral of this story is that i need to find a way to get paid for finding typos. i mean, i spot them in just about every published book i read, too. and, friends, there is a solution: me.

[tksfandomhellhole]

Apparently the outer wilds fandom is somewhat popping on tumblr, so I figured I'd offer something of actual substance to you all: A Pre-Canon OWV Founders fic, with heavy inspirations from Elwensa's designs on their dynamics.

Summary: In which everything that could go wrong during a routine trip into space does, and it takes all of them to fix it.

Characters: Feldspar, Hornfels, Gossan, Slate

Tags/Warnings: POV Third Person/POV Alternating, Near Death Experiences, and of course plenty of crashes and explosions

[AO3 Version Here]

Hornfels and Gossan sat idly in the makeshift ground control room that currently doubled as Outer Wilds Ventures' Observatory.

"Observatory" was a bit of a stretch, as it was mostly just the cobbled together bits and bobs that made up the ground control room plus a telescope Hornfels had just managed to upgrade. The program was still in it's pilot phase–Gossan rolled their eyes whenever anyone said that, which is why Feldspar made it a point to bring it up whenever they could–but in due time, they knew the program would only grow.

They'd already managed to land successfully on the Attlerock and a few of the other planets even, and had planned to start work on some sort of space outpost once Slate was finished with the latest ship.

Whenever Slate was questioned on the progress of said ship however, they'd bark that "It'd help if someone didn't waste so much of my time with constant repairs on their ship."

Today was a routine space trip to Brittle Hollow, and they were waiting for Feldspar to report back that they'd made it back to their ship and they were heading back home.

"Feldspar to ground control, do you copy?"

"We copy, Feldspar!" Hornfels chirped cheerily, happy to hear back from them so soon.

"About to take this death trap Slate calls a ship off this death trap of a planet we call Brittle Hollow, I've gotten all I need from it today. ETA five minutes."

Gossan sighs, inaudible in the background, and Hornfels has to stifle a chuckle. "Sure thing, Feldspar, did you want me to pass your comments onto Slate when we tell them to clear the launchpad?"

Feldspar clears their throat nervously, "Uhh, that won't be necessary ground control, I might need to stay in their good graces today..." they trailed off, and Hornfels exchanges a knowing smirk with Gossan, the telltale sign that Feldspar had managed to break something critical again.

"Uh-huhhh," Hornfels draws out, "And you're sure you can make it back to Timber Hearth in one piece?"

Feldspar scoffs "What me? I could fly this thing in my sleep. You think I can't make it back without the nav systems?... and the lights... and the landing gear..." Their voice trails off uncertainly. "Please don't tell Slate before I get there." They whisper, as if afraid rattling off the damages done had already summoned them.

Hornfels and Gossan laugh heartily at their friend's expense, Hornfels wiping an imaginary tear from their eye before responding, "Well, just do your best not to break off anything else on your way back, and you might be able to escape Slate's wrath."

"Aye-aye ground control, liftoff has already been achieved. There won't be a single other scratch on the ship if I can h–Oh crap-!"

The sound of Feldspar's panicked shout is quickly overtaken by a horrible crashing noise, as metal, wood, and glass splinters and shatters over the line.

For a heartstopping moment Gossan and Hornfels are frozen, eyes wide in fear.

"Feldspar?! Feldspar come in!" Hornfels shrieks into the radio, already frantically trying to orient the telescope towards their last known location. They wait with bated breath for Feldspar's response, to no avail.

A sharp intake of breath from Hornfels draws Gossan's attention, "Hornfels, what do you see, where are they?!"

"Th-They're hurtling away from Brittle Hollow into space!" Hornfels says, looking up from the telescope to check the readings from the pilot monitor, "Vitals are low–Feldspar might not be conscious!"

Gossan grips their arm so tightly it'll bruise later. "How many minutes of oxygen did they have left?!"

"S-Seven I-I think, but they might've punctured their suit and could be losing oxygen at a faster rate!"

"Stars above–" Gossan is already tripping over their own feet as they run out the observatory door. "SLATE! SLAAATE!"

Slate jolts from where they're at, hitting their head on the underside of the ship they were working on. Rubbing their head, they lift the welding helmet from their face. "Gossan? What's the big–"

Gossan yanks Slate out from under the ship, shoving them unceremoniously to the side as they hop in. "I need to get to Feldspar," they shout, "They're running out of oxygen!" Gossan is already slamming the hatch closed and their helmet on, sliding into the suit faster than they've ever managed, even in a race against Feldspar.

Slate is up now, and has stumbled a few feet away from the launchpad, but there's an unmistakeable frenzy to their movements, as they wave their arms desperately for Gossan's attention, trying their hardest to yell over the din of the engines already firing up.

"Gossan, wait! That ship isn't space-ready yet! It won't last past the–"

Gossan gives a quick two-fingered salute, uncaring of Slate's panic, and launches into the sky.

Slate books it into the observatory just as Gossan clears the atmosphere, "Hornfels, what the hell just happened?!"

Hornfels doesn't look up from where they're frantically readjusting the telescope. "It's Feldspar, their ship collided with one of the meteors from Hollow's Lantern, and it looks like they just barely managed to eject, but now they're drifting out into space, completely unresponsive!"

Slate is already gripping both sides of their head, tugging painfully at their ears, "Hornfels we need visual on Gossan! That ship they took isn't going to last much longer!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" Hornfels responds, voice shrill.

Gossan was well aware the structural integrity of the ship was deteoriating fast. It seemed that trip through the atmosphere had already put more force than it could handle on the poor unreinforced parts, and the ship groaned and creaked as Gossan coaxed every last bit of power out of it. They were still too far away from Feldspar, their best friend still just a blip on the horizon. Just a little more!

The lights in the cockpit start flashing a headache inducing red just as several ear-piercing alarms went off in tandem, and Gossan clicks their tongue in frustration. So much for the hope that they could retrieve Feldspar in the ship.

They double check their EVA suit and oxygen, making sure everything is tightly sealed, and grab their jetpack and repair tools. They couldnt fit the medkit, so they'd have to worry about injuries after they landed safely.

...If they made it back safely.

They're just about to open the emergency hatch and go careening into space themself, before they notice the console.

Slate had added an updated graphic to the newer models it seems, to indicate what parts were broken.

Gossan hated to admit it, but Slate could be a genius sometimes, not that they had time now to really appreciate the usefulness of their pal's latest experimental feature.

Because right now they were just putting it together that the shrill piercing alarm was indicative of a reactor failure.

Gossan is pretty sure Slate said that one's bad–well they were all bad, but Slate had said that one in particular meant "start praying and be prepared to get your ass kicked when you get back"–so they could only panic as the invisible timer continued to count down.

"I have visual!" Hornfels declared, triumphantly, before they were shoved out of the way by Slate.

That was definitely the reactor alarm flashing.

Gossan wasn't going to make it out of the blast radius in time unless–

Slate flipped the frequency switch to Gossan's suit radio so fast it almost snapped off.

"GOSSAN, USE THE AUTOPILOT!"

At the sound of Slate's voice screeching in their ears, Gossan was spurred into action, just managing to find the autopilot controls.

They lock onto the furthest celestial body, and smash the button, jumping out the hatch and engaging their jetpack with a speed they hadn't known possible, watching as the autopilot took the ticking time bomb of a ship further away from them until–

The ship explodes, several pieces flying off into space in all different directions, and Gossan raises their arm instinctively to shield their face from any straggling parts. Thankfully none seem to pelt them as they reorient themself towards where they'd last saw Feldspar.

"Gossan, do you copy?!" Hornfels seemed to have wrestled control of the mic back from Slate, and had taken over again on ground control.

"I copy, Hornfels! Approaching on Feldspar's position now!"

"Good, they still haven't stirred, so you might have to do all the heavylifting on this one!" Hornfels tries to joke, nervously. They were already doing the calculations in their head, and they didn't want to admit that there was a high chance the fuel and oxygen Gossan had on hand wouldn't last the distance between them and Timber Hearth.

Gossan smiles a little despite themself, "Me picking up Feldspar's slack? What's new, Hornfels?"

They fall back into a tense silence as they approach on Feldspar's limp form, hooking an arm around them and trying to stabilize both of theirs velocity.

"I made it to Feldspar, Hornfels!" Gossan reports, giving Feldspar a visual inspection. The side of their face was bleeding sluggishly, and they looked pained even in their unconsciousness. But it looked like their ship had managed to take the brunt of the damage, as their helmet was still intact, and they could only find minor suit tears along Feldspar's frame, where glass and wood had embedded themselves.

Gossan breathes a sigh of relief, "Somehow their visor stayed intact, but they're definitely out cold and I think I'll need to repair some suit punctures!" They inform, grabbing the suit repair tape from their pockets.

"Thank stars, Gossan that's great! Could you get a look at the oxygen tank on their back when you're done, what's it say?"

Gossan finishes removing some glass and wrapping the tape around some punctures along Feldspar's leg, and orbits around their friend, making one last inspection, before turning to the tank on their friend's back. They frown at the display. "Only four minutes, Hornfels..."

There's an audible intake of air on the otherside. Four minutes of air between there and Timber Hearth would run an incredible risk of running out before they even made it into its orbit.

Gossan looks at Feldspar's face, pained and lifeless, and makes an executive decision they know Feldspar is never going to let them hear the end of.

"Hornfels, I'm gonna swap our oxygen supplies, I can't risk Feldspar running out of oxygen before we make it back!"

"But, Gossan...!" Hornfels swallows the rest of their protest, knowing exactly why Gossan is making that choice.

Feldspar was a foolhardy explorer, an incredible astronaut–and just about the sickest hatchling as a child. Their lungs were weaker than everyone else's, and they'd spent so much time in their youth bedridden from their lungs' refusal to work properly.

But that same sick little hatchling had always dreamed of going to the stars, and well, who were they to stop them?

"...Okay. Be careful, Gossan!"

There's a breathless moment as Gossan detaches the hose from their suit and oxygen supply first, swapping it out for the one connected to Feldspar's suit, before scrambling to take Feldspar's oxygen tank off their back and attaching their hose to it instead.

There's a gasp as air fills their lungs again, and Gossan gives a shaky, "I'm g-good," in response to Hornfels query of "Is everything alright?"

Hornfels and Gossan let out twin sighs of relief as Gossan hooks an arm under Feldspar's shoulder and around their waist.

"Alright I'm heading towards the Attlerock, I'm going to try to re-enter Timber Hearth's orbit from there!"

"Ok, but hurry back, Gossan. I think even Slate was holding their breath back there for a moment."

There's an indignant "Hey!" in the background, and Gossan smiles a little once more, "Things must look pretty dire if even Slate's worried, huh?" They remark.

"As if! The only thing I'm worried about is that I won't be able to properly chew the two of you out for this when you get back if Feldspar's not awake!"

Gossan smirks, as the body of the Attlerock slowly approaches, "Well, maybe if you made the jetpacks easier to maneuver with only one free hand you'd have a better chance, Slate."

"Hey, you were the one who wanted 8 axes of movement rather than four! How do you think I managed to implement the other four? But... your suggestion is noted." And Gossan can almost see the abashed look on Slate's face, as they realize they're basically admitting they're worried.

Hornfels continues to track the pair's flight with worry, the timer in their head ticking down far too fast in comparison to their slowed speed. Feldspar was slowing Gossan down too much...!

"Slate, I don't think they're going to make it in time, they're not moving fast enough!" Hornfels whispered urgently, and if Gossan heard it they didn't comment.

Slate's eyes widen at this, voice caught in their throat as they search for a response. What could they even say? What could they even do? The two of them weren't pilots and Slate didn't have any other tech to help them, not after Gossan flew off in their only remaining protot–

Wait, maybe not their only remaining prototype...

Sure they could go get it from their workshop but-!

Slate is NOT a pilot. Their domain was rocket science-ing, not rocket piloting.

"Gossan only has two minutes of oxygen left, they're not gonna make it to the Attlerock before that runs out, Slate!" Hornfels' grip on the telescope was so tight the metal was beginning to creak.

Ohh, Slate was so killing those two when they got back!

"Keep talking to them! We need to keep Gossan focused!" Slate directs, startling Hornfels when they grab a helmet off the table.

"Slate, where are you–?!" What did Slate need with the improved pilot helmet they had both been working on?

"Keep talking!" Slate reiterates as they run out, putting the helmet on their head.

Gossan heard the one minute warning on their oxygen go off, and swallowed anxiously. The Attlerock was still a ways away, and no matter how they shifted Feldspar they couldn't seem to make this thing go any faster.

The air was already starting to feel thinner, their vision starting to darken around the edges.

"Gossan, stay focused! You're almost there!" Hornfels pleaded, but it was beginning to sound so distant.

They had been moving with such urgency, but now they floated gently as they approached the Attlerock, getting too lightheaded to keep their facts straight.

They finally manage to enter the orbit of the Attlerock, and land none too gracefully on the barren surface.

They need to stand up, need to drag their friend to- to...

Where were they going?

They couldn't remember, but they needed to. They needed to keep moving, needed to remember what they were doing before they...

Before what?

And actually why did they need to keep moving? They'd already made it to solid ground. That had been the goal, hadn't it?

They could relax now, surely, they think, sitting down heavily, pulling their friend onto their lap.

A nap couldn't hurt.

Their eyes slip closed, arm locked around their companion and they start to drift off.

But there's this annoying buzzing sound, like a fly zipping around their ears, and they blearily blink them back open in annoyance. Why were there flies in space?

Well if they focused, it sounded more like a crackling, like a fire or a radio maybe.

They get the vague sense that that might be important, so they try to make out the sounds better. It's slow going, but they can definitely recognize someone shouting now. Kinda strange though, it almost sounded like–

"–GOSSAN, SO HELP ME STARS, IF YOU TOOK MY LATEST PROTOTYPE AND BLEW IT UP IN SPACE JUST TO DIE ON THE ATTLEROCK I'LL KILL YOU MYSELF!"

With no small amount of effort, Gossan stands, dragging Feldspar up with them, barely managing to loop an arm around their waist. The world is spinning, and they can hardly keep their eyes open.

With one final jump they press down on the accelerator just managing to clear the Attlerock's orbit, Feldspar in tow.

They feel more than they see that they're floating inbetween the Attlerock and Timber Hearth's orbits, and using their last moments of lucidity, they angle themself and Feldspar towards Timber Hearth, before pressing on the control stick one last time, curling Feldspar closer into them.

They don't even see if they made it into orbit before the world fades away below them.

With a burst of water, Slate's feet leave the ground just as Hornfels screams that they're both going to crash and die on impact.

Slate isn't a pilot–and they pray their feet never have to leave the ground again after this–but with nothing but a helmet and their prototype jetpack on they use the initial burst from the geyser to launch towards the rapidly descending streak across the sky.

They jerk and veer all over the place, as the handling is much much looser on their prototype, and Slate thinks that they're either going to be flattened into a fishcake by the end of this or save their friends, and quite possibly both, as they bear down on them, but there's no time to think about it only do–!

Slate spreads their arms wide and braces for impact, intercepting the pair just moments before they'd have connected with the ground.

All three of them go sailing another 40 feet as they crash, eventually tumbling to a halt just at the edge of a patch of forest.

It takes a few minutes for Slate to open their eyes against the ringing in their ears, and everything hurts, but they're intact and back on solid ground in one piece, which hopefully means–

They stand up so fast they get dizzy, stumbling to where Gossan and Feldspar lay a few feet away.

"...SSAN, FELDSPAR, SLATE DOES ANYONE COPY?! ARE YOU GUYS STILL ALIVE?!" Slate winces at the sound of Hornfels shouting over the comms in utter hysteria, rubbing at their head before they respond.

"Hornfels, it's me, I'm with Gossan and Feldspar, we crash landed some...some direction I can't really tell right now from the village... I haven't checked on them yet, they might need medical attention!"

"Slate?! Ohh... Oh.. Thank stars...THANK YOU STARS!" And Slate thinks they hear sobbing on the other end before Hornfels finishes, "I-I'll start heading your way with assistance!"

With that sorted, Slate switches the helmet off, dropping onto their knees next to Feldspar and Gossan's prone forms.

Slate snatches their helmets off, listening as the suits depressurize, shaking them both vigorously by the shoulders. "Feldspar, Gossan, wake up!"

Surprisingly, it's Feldspar who stirs first, groaning loudly, eyes blinking opening slowly one pair at a time. Pupils are different sizes, Slate notes, so yep that's definitely a concussion, but–

"Feldspar, you're alive!" Slate launches into a hug just as they sit up, before Feldspar can even make sense of what's what or who's who.

"Whu...haah?" Feldspar mumbles incoherently, but Slate just hugs them tighter, like they might disappear if they let go.

Eventually Slate thinks better of it, removing themself from Feldspar and clearing their throat, just as the sounds of Gossan stirring reaches their ears.

"Gossan!" Slate turns back to them now, shaking them a little, "Y-you did it! Wake up!"

Gossan makes a noise of protest against the movements, but eventually they blink their eyes open, sitting up straight, rubbing at their face. "Slate?" Gossan asks, confused, before they remember–

"FELDSPAR?!" they shout, and upon seeing their friend sitting up, launches into a hug of their own.

Feldspar grunts at the impact, but manages to brace themself this time, looking a little more alert now even as they fumble their words. "'M sorry, Gossan..."

Gossan doesn't respond, sniffling loudly into their shoulder, and Feldspar knows they're going to be in worse trouble than they thought after this.

"Oh gee, we're so sorry, Slate for getting your only remaining ships wrecked, including your super cool new experimental ship, and also thank you for saving us from our own stupid deaths, can you ever find it in your heart to forgive us?" Slate snarks, when they've decided the pair has had enough time together.

"Slate?" Feldspar asks, as if only noticing them for the first time now, "What's with the get-up?"

Feldspar and Gossan both seem to notice it at the same time, gasping in shock.

Slate removes the helmet, striding over to them and bending down to angrily push an accusatory finger in their chest, "Well after you wrecked your ship again, Gossan went and took MY, as in I-haven't-even-finished-building-this-one-yet-so-it-was-still-mine, ship into space to save you from becoming a floating corpse! But oh wait, that's kind of hard to do when YOU BOTH NO LONGER HAVE A SHIP, so of course I had to do the one thing I never EVER want to have to do again, to keep you guys from becoming fish paste!"

"Slate, did you–"

"YOU FLEW?!"

Slate slips the prototype jetpack off their shoulders, legs trembling as the adrenaline leaks out, before their legs drop out from under them entirely, Gossan just barely managing to catch them by the shoulders. Slate leans heavily into the touch now, too tired to put up a facade. "And if you ever make me do it again, I'm grounding you for life." They mumble into Gossan's shoulder.

Gossan yelps as Slate suddenly goes limp against them, exchanging an incredulous glance with Feldspar.

"Poor guy must've crashed," Feldspar says, "You know how much they hate space flight."

There's a beat of silence, before Feldspar and Gossan burst out into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

They'd actually survived...

Feldspar's laughter tapers off with a sharp inhale, "Stars, I'm actually getting lightheaded again." They say, hand rising to clutch the side of their head that wasn't sticky with blood with a grimace.

"Let's just wait for Hornfels to show up." Gossan agrees, patting the grass next to them as they shift Slate to be draped more comfortably across their lap.

Feldspar slots into place at their side, laying down in the grass.

Seems no one would be flying for awhile... they'd really have to make it up to Slate for this one. Hell, Gossan and Hornfels too.

But as Gossan's hand wraps around theirs, giving it a comforting squeeze, Feldspar thinks maybe it's okay they'll all be grounded for a little while.

[pipermca]

Resonance

Author's note: I am not sure what to do with this story. It's a prequel to a fic that I haven't started posting yet, starring some very minor characters from that story. 😅 But my brain wanted to work on this, so I let it, and this is what came out. However I don't want to post it to AO3 yet because I need it to be a bit separate from the main fic until that one is well underway.

I'm posting this here just to have it down someplace. That way it's out of my hair. Once I start posting the longer, main story, I'll clean this up again and post it to AO3.

Enjoy. :)

Title: Resonance

Rating: PG for descriptions of violence

Tags: Bluestreak/Hound, Bluestreak & Smokescreen, Continuity soup, Post-apocalypse, Soulmate AU

Word count: 5100

Every sensor in Bluestreak's haptic net was tingling. Or that's what it felt like, anyway. And when he attempted to ignore the constant pings from his sensors, all he could feel was his fuel pump thudding away in his chest, or how loud his ventilation systems had become. So instead he put all of his focus on following Smokescreen, and stepping as quietly as he could. But the scattered gravel and broken glass crunching under their pedes sounded like fireworks, and he winced at every stray sound they made.

Bluestreak was so intent on moving as stealthily as he possibly could that he ran into Smokescreen's left sensor wing when he stopped.

"Eep!" Bluestreak squeaked, then clapped a hand over his mouth, his optics wide.

Smokescreen reached out a hand to steady Bluestreak as he reeled backwards. "Good job staying close," he said quietly. He smiled and patted Bluestreak on the shoulder. "But maybe leave just a bit more following distance next time."

"I'm sorry!" Bluestreak whispered, flattening his sensor wings against his back.

"It's all right. Just let me peek down there, and if I don't see anything I'll let you know." Smokescreen pulled out his weapon and slipped into the darkened building they'd been heading towards.

Bluestreak crouched down beside the doorway. He pulled out his own weapon and held it ready, his thumb nervously caressing the trigger. He looked up the street, then down the street, then up above him, over and over. Left. Right. Up. Left. Right. Up.

He hated this. He hated everything about this. They had been forced to venture further and further from their shelter to look for fuel and other supplies, creeping into places where they knew the Quintessons had been seen. There hadn't been any sightings of prosecutors in a few weeks, but with communications down and the city in ruins, they had no way of knowing whether the aliens were just hiding around the next corner. They'd also run into bots like themselves, people just trying to scrape by with what they could find. Most of them had been friendly, and shared information and fuel with them. But others had not been friendly at all.

He felt lost. He felt like they were on their own. Even Primus didn't seem to give a scrap about what happened to them.

As soon as Bluestreak had that thought, he cringed internally and offered up a silent prayer of apology. He knew that there were some things even Primus couldn't fix.

Bluestreak was completing his fourteenth visual sweep of the ruined street when Smokescreen reappeared in the doorway. "It's clear. C'mon," he said, and Bluestreak followed him inside.

Like most of the other stores they'd searched today, this one looked like it had already been looted of anything useful. But Bluestreak started opening cabinets and boxes anyway, hunting for anything they could take. "I don't think we're going to find anything here, Smokey," he said. "This is a waste of time." He knew he sounded petulant. He didn’t care anymore.

"Maybe there's something in the back," Smokescreen said. With a sigh, Bluestreak followed him through the doorway into the rear of the store.

As expected, there wasn't much in the back of the store, either. Bluestreak found a packet of rust crisps in the drawer of a desk, and Smokescreen found five small datapads. He pulled the battery cells from them and slipped those into his compartments. Then he jerked his head towards the back door. "Let's head back up the alley and see if there's any places we missed on this stretch."

He had just come through the door to the alley when Bluestreak saw it: a long black tentacle dangling from the sky above them. Reflexively, he swung his gun up and fired, severing the tentacle so that it fell onto the ground in front of them.

Dropping into a crouch, Bluestreak skittered back into the safety of the doorway, waving his gun back and forth above him, looking for the rest of the prosecutor. Or worse, rest of its argument. But all he could see above him were the bombed-out and crumbling towers that sat above the retail space.

"Where'd it go? Where'd it go?" Bluestreak hissed.

Something touched his shoulder. Bluestreak yelped and spun around. His finger twitched on the trigger, and fired before his processor even registered what he was shooting at...

Smokescreen.

Smokescreen's hand closed firmly around Bluestreak's wrist. "Maybe we're done for today," Smokescreen said quietly, and glanced at the hole in the wall right beside his head.

"Oh. Oh!" Bluestreak dropped his weapon, wincing again as it clattered to the ground. "Oh Primus Smokey, I'm so sorry!"

Smokescreen picked up Bluestreak's gun and tucked it into his compartments. "I'm fine," he said. He gave Bluestreak a smile, but this time it looked forced. "But we should go before someone – or something – comes to see what that noise was."

"The prosecutor!" Bluestreak whirled around again to look at the tentacle he'd just severed from the prosecutor.

Except there was no tentacle. Instead, a length of wires, wrapped with black insulation, lay on the alley floor. One end was torn and bent, obviously ripped from its connector, while the other end was smoking and melted from Bluestreak's blaster shot.

"I thought..." Bluestreak walked a step, then two, into the alley to nudge the cabling with the tip of his pede. "I thought it was..."

"I know. And I understand," Smokescreen said. He put his hand on Bluestreak's shoulder again, this time telegraphing his movements carefully. "It's starting to get late. Let's get back home."

***

Bluestreak sat with his back to a corner with his head buried in his arms. He hoped that if he made himself small enough, no one would notice him there. Inside his chest, it felt like his spark was singing a mournful dirge.

Everything was broken: his job, his life, his planet. Nothing was right. And nothing he did was making anything better.

Maybe he could just put himself into stasis. Someone could wake him up when the world had fixed itself again. But for now, he just wanted to be left alone.

At the sound of a pede scraping the ground purposefully, Bluestreak sighed. He should have known.

"Skyfall found three whole cases of Nukecool. I grabbed a bottle for us to share," said Smokescreen's voice.

"I don't want it."

A pause. "Are you sure? It's the good kind, with the red label. You always told me how much you really liked this flavour."

"You can have it."

Another pause. "Are you all right?"

Bluestreak's reply was sharper than he meant it to be, but who cared? Everything was broken. Maybe he could break his last remaining friendship, too. "No."

Smokescreen slid down the wall to sit next to Bluestreak, and set a bottle down beside him. Bluestreak didn't have to look up to know that Smokescreen was looking at him with that intent expression he always had when he was listening fully and attentively. "Did you want to talk about it?"

"You can't psychoanalyze me out of feeling like... this," Bluestreak said.

"No," said Smokescreen agreeably. "But I can still listen."

"What's the point of talking about how absolutely fracked we are?" Bluestreak lifted his head and looked up at the ceiling of the half-crumbled transport tunnel they were taking shelter in. He gestured with both of his hands, taking in the shadowy walls, the small piles of gathered supplies, and the groups of bots huddled here and there among the scavenged crates. "You've lived through the same things I have. The Quintessons arriving. The attack on the Senate. Praxus losing comms with the rest of the planet, then the invasion coming here, and-" Bluestreak's voice cut off in a warble of feedback, so he shook his head and looked at Smokescreen. He didn't care if his friend saw the streaks of coolant that had been running down his cheeks.

"I definitely remember," Smokescreen said quietly.

"Yeah." Bluestreak blinked several times, trying to clear the image of the Quintesson prosecutors' tentacles smashing through doors and windows of the shops on his street, and dragging out the people they found inside. Bluestreak could still hear the screams of those they took. He remembered watching Treadlight, the paint specialist across the street, get pulled into a prosecutor, shrieking in terror. He remembered scuttling from building to building, trying to avoid the squads of allicons roaming the city. He could still smell the acrid burnt metal of corpses who had been shot in the back as they ran. "And now... I almost killed the only friend of mine I know who's still alive."

"You didn't. I'm still here."

"But I could have! I almost did!" Bluestreak glared at Smokescreen. "So no. I am not 'all right.'"

Smokescreen was silent. When Bluestreak glanced away again, Smokescreen put his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders. "I am sorry. I didn't mean it like that. How about... Are you going to be all right for the moment? Right this second?"

Bluestreak grunted, realizing what Smokescreen was angling for. "Yeah. I guess. I'm not going to start screaming for the Quintessons to come finish us off, like Padlock did." He directed his glare at the ground in front of his pedetips, but leaned into Smokescreen's embrace. "I just feel useless like this, jumping at everything."

"You're not useless," Smokescreen said. "You're really observant. You're good at spotting things that others have missed. You're an excellent shot." When Bluestreak just grunted again, Smokescreen patted his shoulder. "And you're not the only one who's struggling." With his other hand, Smokescreen gestured at the other bots in the tunnel with them. "Everyone here is going through something. No one's been spared. So, you aren't alone in feeling like this."

Bluestreak looked around. Scattor was sitting with a group, but rocked back and forth muttering to himself. Evac stood by the tunnel entrance on guard duty, but flicked his rotors at every little sound. Windrazor sat alone like he always did, staring off into space just like he had ever since his spark resonant was killed. Every single bot in the shelter looked haunted in some way or another.

"I know," Bluestreak said with a sigh. "Thank you for that little reality check."

"Here," Smokescreen said, and handed Bluestreak the red bottle. "This might help, too."

Bluestreak accepted the bottle, and made a small sound of surprise. "It's cold!"

Smokescreen grinned. "Yeah. Glyph broke out some of the chill packs for this. I think it was worth it."

With a happy sound, Bluestreak took a big swig from the bottle. He savoured the familiar flavour, rolling it around in his intake. He sighed happily, then handed the bottle back to Smokescreen. "And what about you? How are you holding up?" When Smokescreen did not immediately reply, Bluestreak added, "You're always so... steady. And I really appreciate that. But you're struggling too, right?" Bluestreak waited while Smokescreen took a drink from the bottle. "But if you need to unload on me, you can."

Smokescreen tipped his head back and rested it on the wall behind him. "All I can think about is how nothing is ever going to be the same," he said. He stared up at the ceiling, expressionless. "Even if the Quints left tomorrow, so much is destroyed now. Buildings. The city. People. And who knows how bad things are outside of Praxus." He closed his optics. "It seems so unreal to me that just a few months ago, everything seemed normal. We knew that the Quints had arrived and there were some negotiations happening in Iacon, but... That was so far away. It was just news and politics. Who cared?" He opened his optics again and looked down at Bluestreak. "That last night, I dragged you out to that horrible movie-"

Bluestreak laughed at the memory. "That was really bad."

"I am sorry. Barricade suggested it. He said that his partner Prowl had really liked it. I should have known better than to trust his judgement about anything art related," Smokescreen said with a grin, then sobered again. "I wonder where they are. I hope they're both all right." He sighed, then continued. "After the movie, we went to The Rusty Strut for drinks, and I remember we got out of there way too late..."

"I was late opening my shop the next day," Bluestreak said.

"Like I said, way too late. And that morning there was news about the attacks in Iacon. Then something about the Senatorial Guard getting decimated. That afternoon, planetary-wide comms went down. And then that evening, just a few hours later..." He shook his head. "Like I said, I can't believe it's only been a few months."

Bluestreak shuddered, and Smokescreen fell silent.

After a few minutes, Smokescreen patted Bluestreak's shoulder again. "Did you want to sing a hymn together?" When Bluestreak sat up and stared at him in surprise, Smokescreen shrugged. "I hear you humming them sometimes, especially when you're feeling really stressed."

"A hymn?" Bluestreak narrowed his optics. "You don't have a religious circuit in your entire frame," he said.

"No. But you do. And if it'll help you feel better, I'm willing to give it a go. Who knows, maybe it'll help me relax, too," Smokescreen said. Then he smiled. "But be forewarned, I am a horrible singer."

With a quiet laugh, Bluestreak said, "That's all right. Primus doesn't care how good of a singer you are. He just cares what's in your spark." He thought for a moment, then said, "Do you know the words to Gather the Sparks? That's the one I think I hum the most."

"Nope," Smokescreen said. "But if you sing it through once, I'll join in the second time around."

***

Bluestreak did not know whether it was the bottle of his favourite drink, or singing a calming hymn, or talking with Smokescreen the previous night that had done the trick, but he definitely felt better in the morning.

Things still felt pretty dire, of course. The shared rations were still slim. Everyone still looked like they were on edge, except for Windrazor, who was still in shock after the loss of his spark resonant. At least Skyfall seemed to be able to get him to take some fuel once in a while.

But this morning, Bluestreak's spark felt lighter. The future didn't seem so dark, somehow. Even the colours of the early morning sky seemed more vivid.

The whole world felt more hopeful.

Smokescreen noticed Bluestreak's new attitude, of course. He had always been tuned into his friends' emotions like that. When Bluestreak didn't have a good explanation for why he was feeling better, Smokescreen shrugged. "I'm just glad to see you smiling again, a real smile this time," Smokescreen said, slapping his friend on the back. "I missed that."

Bluestreak ducked his head, but felt his smile broaden. "Me too."

They were just discussing where they should start their scavenging run for the day when Stakeout tore into the shelter, his tires sending up bits of glass and gravel as he braked.

"What's wrong?" Evac asked, his rotors flaring outwards. He peered down the tunnel. "Are you being chased? Is it Quintessons?"

"No!" Stakeout said, transforming. He looked... Well, he looked elated, an expression that Bluestreak hadn't seen the dour Enforcer wearing before this. "It's the army! They're here! They're setting up a triage center with fuel and doctors and shuttles and everything else in Lucent Plaza." He laughed. "I think we can finally get out of here!"

As excited voices rose around them, Smokescreen spoke over the noise. "Wait... What army? Last we heard the Senatorial Guard got wiped out, and we all saw what happened to the Civil Defense here. Who is actually down in the plaza?"

Stakeout shook his head. "I don't know. The livery on the shuttles is all different. Some of them have Senatorial Guard emblems, some have Vosian insignia, and I saw at least one with a mining company logo. But I saw the people myself, and they're Cybertronians, not Quints."

Smokescreen pulled Bluestreak aside while Evac and the others started making plans to get everyone to the plaza. "Maybe I've just been too stressed for too long, but..." He sighed, a frown twisting the corners of his mouth downwards.

Bluestreak felt the same excitement in his spark that the others in their hideout were expressing, but Smokescreen's frown tempered his reply. "What is it? Do you think that the Quintessons might be using Cybertronians to lure people in just to capture them?" Bluestreak asked.

"Something like that," Smokescreen said with a small smile. "Am I being too paranoid?"

"Maybe a little. Usually being paranoid my job," Bluestreak said, returning Smokescreen's smile. Bluestreak flicked his wings. "But to be safe, let's not go rushing down there. Let's go scope it out first, and then we can decide what to do."

The drive to the plaza was mostly clear, although they needed to detour around two destroyed bridges. They approached from the east, circling to the top of the Torus Bridge that overlooked the plaza.

Even though Bluestreak had felt more and more happy as they'd gotten closer to the plaza, he paused at the top of the bridge and scanned the horizon carefully. Even bombed out like they were, the tall towers of Praxus could still be hiding any number of the smaller ships that the Quintessons used. But the two larger ships, the ones that had hung in the air like coiled razorsnakes over the city for months, were nowhere to be seen.

Bluestreak's elation ratcheted upwards once more.

In the large plaza below them, a dozen shuttles were parked, with bots streaming into the plaza from all directions. It looked like organized chaos, with some bots directing weary Praxian residents where to go, while others helped bots form neat queues in front of various tables. Obviously injured bots were being escorted to one of the ships, while more bots circulated handing out what looked like energon cubes.

All Bluestreak could feel now was an insistent urge to be down there, in the plaza. It felt like an almost visceral pull on his spark.

Smokescreen's sensor wings tipped upwards. "Is it me, or do a lot of the bots down there have the Prime's insignia on their shoulders?"

Bluestreak squinted, then gasped when he confirmed what Smokescreen had seen. "They are! It's the Wing of the Prime! And can see a few Hand members, as well."

"I thought the Hand of the Prime was just... I dunno, protection from paparazzi," Smokescreen said. "And the Wing is just clerics and curates. The Prime is just a religious leader. He doesn't have an army."

"Well, yeah. But maybe they've been, I dunno, training for something like this." Bluestreak gestured at the motley array of vehicles in the plaza. "And they obviously have some help, right?" His wings quivered behind him as he peered at Smokescreen. "Do you believe now that they aren't really Quintessons trying to trick us into getting ourselves captured?"

"Yeah. I believe it now." Smokescreen backed away from the edge of the bridge. "And I can practically feel you vibrating with excitement. Let's get you down there before you blow a relay," he added with a laugh.

The pull on Bluestreak's spark got even more insistent when they entered the plaza. A red-plated truck waved them down at the perimeter path. "Do you need medical care, or fuel?" he asked. His shoulders bore the insignia of the Prime's Hand.

"No. We're fine, thankfully," Smokescreen said. "Honestly we're just looking to get out of here." He glanced skyward. "Are the Quints really gone?"

The red bot gave a half shrug. "They peeled out of here about a week and a half ago. No idea why. We waited to make sure they were really gone before moving in." He gestured at the ships. "As soon as we were sure, the Prime gave us orders to get as many people to safety as we can. If there are more here than we can carry, we'll call for more ships. But we will get everyone who wants to leave out."

"Where to?" Smokescreen asked.

"We've got a couple of bases set up, places where we can regroup and figure out how to fight back." The red-plated guard pulled himself to his full height. "We're gonna take Cybertron back from those squidbrains, one way or another."

Bluestreak listened to the exchange impatiently, scanning the crowd behind the Prime's guard. He didn't want to leave, not yet. What he wanted to do was drive through the crowd. He wanted to see all the people here.

...Which was weird. Bluestreak normally hated crowds. As Smokescreen thanked the guard, Bluestreak shook his head to clear that thought. Seeing everyone here was more important than his dislike of crowds.

The moment Smokescreen turned away from the guard, Bluestreak grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, into the crowd.

"Whoa, Blue, where are we going?" Smokescreen asked. "The bot back there said that the signups for an evacuation flight are over that way."

"I want to go this way," Bluestreak said, his optics scanning bots they passed. He wasn't sure what - or who - he was looking for. All he knew was that he'd know them when he saw them.

Smokescreen laughed. "You're acting like you found your spark resonant or something."

Bluestreak barely even heard Smokescreen as he wove around groups of bots, tables of supplies, and ramps of shuttles. He knew that this was the direction he needed to go in to find...

...? What was he looking for?

Bluestreak slowed as they circled around the landing gear of a squat, utilitarian transport. As they came out the other side, his optics landed on a boxy green truck. The truck was helping a blue Vosian load boxes into the bed of a hauler.

When he stopped and looked up, the truck's gaze met Bluestreak's immediately.

He had the bluest optics Bluestreak had ever seen. And when he smiled, Bluestreak's processor could only catalogue the way it made the truck's optics crinkle up at the corners, and how kind it made him look, and how much Bluestreak wanted to have that smile directed at him forever and ever.

Bluestreak was suddenly standing in front of the green bot. He didn't remember walking over to him.

Smokescreen was talking to someone behind him. "I'm sorry, I know we're probably not supposed to be back here, but my friend-"

"I'm sure we can help you out," said another voice. "And I think I know what's going on." Bluestreak assumed it was the Vosian talking. But that wasn't important now.

"I know you, I think," the green bot said. His voice thrilled Bluestreak's audials, as though he'd always wanted to hear this voice in particular. The green bot held out his hand, and Bluestreak reflexively reached out his own. "I'm-"

Their hands touched.

As soon as their fingers made contact, something surged inside Bluestreak's spark. The excited twirl that his spark had been doing all morning suddenly swirled into a dance, weaving a complex design with another, matched spark. From that dance rose a song, a joyful anthem of celebration. And for each note that Bluestreak's spark sang, the harmony was sung by its mate.

"Oh," said the green bot softly. His smile grew, as did the brightness of his optics.

That single word sent Bluestreak's spark into another burst of radiant joy.

Smokescreen was saying something, but Bluestreak wasn't listening. He wanted the green mech to speak again.

"I'm Bluestreak," he said.

"Hound," said the green bot, his optics not leaving Bluestreak's. "I'm Hound."

"I'm so happy I found you," Bluestreak said, but those words didn't feel adequate to describe how he was actually feeling: the rapturous elation of finally finding what he didn't know he was missing his whole life.

"Same. Yeah, I feel the same," Hound said. "All morning I've been... I mean, I felt something that..." Bluestreak could feel him – his name was Hound! – fumbling for words, and he felt a surge of sympathy for him.

"Did you seriously just find out you have a resonant?" Smokescreen said. With an effort, Bluestreak peeled his gaze away from Hound to look at his friend. Smokescreen was smiling and shaking his head. "Only you would discover your sparkmate in the middle of a warzone."

The blue Vosian touched Smokescreen's shoulder. "Let's give them a little while to get acquainted," he said, and he winked at Hound.

"Thanks, Thundercracker," Hound said, not looking away from Bluestreak for a moment.

Bluestreak looked back at Hound, and was lost in his optics once more.

***

"You mentioned you had a shop here. What did you sell?"

"I'm a glass smith, and I sold the art I made, along with some other stuff."

"Art? Like what?"

"Oh, mostly glass pieces for decoration. You know, stuff like sparklers and window spinners, but I also did a lot of custom works for bots to have installed. Have you see those taillights some people have, with the internal prisims? I made those first, before they got really popular."

"Those were yours? That's amazing! They look so neat!"

"Thanks! I was pretty proud of them," Bluestreak said, and shifted closer to Hound. He was finally able to look away from his spark mate (wow, what a weird thing to think, that he had an actual spark resonant) at the bustle of bots working around them. After recovering from the initial shock of discovering each other, both Bluestreak and Hound wanted to help unload supplies or organize the medical queues – something to help the effort. But Smokescreen and Thundercracker (the Vosian who had been working with Hound) told them to sit and take a little time to get to know each other better, and Smokescreen offered to take Hound's place for a while. Neither Bluestreak nor Hound argued too loudly about that, since getting to work meant not touching each other.

Hound turned and looked at Bluestreak again. Every time he did that, he looked as though he was surprised to see him sitting there. "So, did you ever think you might have a resonant?" Hound asked.

"Sure, I thought about it," Bluestreak said. "Who hasn't? I've seen the same romances as everyone else. It's appealing, thinking you might have someone out there who's your perfect match." He rubbed his hand up Hound's arm, feeling the slight texture in his matte finish. They hadn't stopped touching each other ever since their first meeting; there was something about keeping that contact that made Bluestreak's spark sing even louder. He leaned into Hound's side as he kicked his pedes back and forth over the edge of the crate they were sitting on. "But resonants are so rare and so... I dunno, almost mythical, something that happened to other people, that it was more of a fun fantasy than thinking I might actually have one. Of course, I did eventually make a trip down to Greater Monoplex, just to see if I could feel anything. But aside from the excitement of being on a trip to a place I'd never been, I didn't feel anything odd. Maybe we just didn't get close enough or something."

Hound listened patiently as Bluestreak rambled on, waiting until Bluestreak finished before replying. "When did you go to Monoplex?"

"Oh... It must have been about thirty or forty quartexes ago." Bluestreak smiled. "I needed to save up for the trip."

"I was called to serve Primus about seventy quartexes ago. That was in Sentinel Prime's service, of course," Hound said. Hound's fingers curled around and under and through Bluestreak's as he talked, tangling and untangling their fingers over and over, just like he'd been doing since they first sat down. Hound smiled and shrugged. "I wanted to come to Praxus, eventually, just to see, but... Other things seemed to be more important. And like you said, resonants are so rare. I never once thought that I might actually have one."

"We were both so wrong," Bluestreak said. He flicked his sensor wings upwards as he added, "And hey, if you're in the Wing, just think! Since you've got a resonant, you might be the next Prime, and I could be your Protector!"  But as soon as the words left Bluestreak's vocalizer, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Even if he couldn't have sensed the horror and distress and do not want he was feeling from Hound's spark, the expression on Hound's face would have made him back up immediately. "Oh, Hound, it's just a joke. I'm joking! I'm sorry," he said, squeezing Hound's arm tighter. "I wouldn't know the first thing about being a Protector."

Hound nodded and relaxed, both in body and spark. "I can feel that now," Hound said. He smiled. "This is going to take some getting used to, especially as we get to know each other." He started twining his fingers around Bluestreak's again: over, under, through. "But I have no doubts about your ability to be a Protector. It's the thought of losing the current Prime that made me..." He shuddered in Bluestreak's embrace.

"Have you met him?" Bluestreak asked quietly. He remembered seeing the ceremonies and celebrations when the new Prime was selected by the Matrix. When Hound nodded, Bluestreak asked, "What's he like?"

"He is kind, and intelligent, and thoughtful," Hound said. "When you talk to him, you can tell that he really cares about every single bot on this planet, whether they believe he is the voice of Primus or not." Hound looked around the plaza and at all of the bots there: those of the Prime's Hand and Wing, and the survivors they had come to help. "This was all his doing. He wanted to make sure we rescued as many bots as possible from places where the Quintessons have been. Without his leadership, pulling together disparate forces from all over the planet, none of this would have happened."

"I hope I get to meet him some day," Bluestreak said.

Hound smiled at him, sending another swirl of joy through Bluestreak's spark. "Well, I'll need to report back to the Master of Songs when we return to Tyger Pax," Hound said. "After that, if you stick with me, I can definitely introduce you to Megatronus Prime."

Bluestreak leaned his head on Hound's shoulder, watching the bustling around them. "I'd like that," he said. "And I have every intention of staying by your side for as long as I live, now that I finally met you."

"Nothing would make me happier," Hound said softly.

THE END

Look for this fic's sequel in The Prime and His Protector, coming to AO3 sometime soon!

[bruh-myguy-what]

If Not Him, Perhaps Me

Good evening again, my friends! I have chapter 2 all ready! It wasn’t totally proofread, so I might have to be updating and fixing it as I reread it later but I was so excited to post the second chapter I couldn’t wait lol I also super appreciate all the comments on the first chapter. It really helps encourage me to continue writing! So keep commenting if you want! I love it haha

If you want to be tagged, just let me know!

So here it is!

Enjoy~

_____________________________________

Chapter 1

Pairing- Thrawn x f!reader x Luke Skywalker

Summary- You finally meet the Grand Admiral himself and the conversation is intriguing for the both of you.

Word Count- 2K+

Warnings- Mentions of kidnapping

______________________________________

Bright lights glared painfully against your eyelids. The ringing in your ears coming back with a vengeance but finding its home near the back of your head in a raging migraine. Consciousness still felt as if it were a distant dream, but you were steadily grappling it with shaking hands, pulling yourself toward the blinding light. Soon your shoulders ached with the stiffness of tension and the feeling of hard steel beneath you.

‘Where am I?’ The thoughts swirling in your mind were flimsy and challenging to gather into a lucid form, but you still tried to make sense of yourself. Full consciousness continued to grow closer and closer but as it did, the realization that you weren’t aboard the Falcon anymore was also becoming increasingly troubling. Trying as best you could to recall where you were and how you got there was proving even more difficult than stringing together a cohesive thought. Your eyes wouldn’t obey your demand to open, and your limbs felt weighed down as if by lead, numbing your body. ‘Luke,” your mind strayed to the man who’d left you alone with Chewbacca and Leia to assist Han and as you lay against cold steel in thought, you heard a series of boots thud closer toward you.

Then you remembered suddenly where you were. “Get up, woman,” a gruff modulated voice spat in irritation, “the Grand Admiral wants to see you.” The Grand Admiral. That’s right! You’d been kidnapped by Storm Troopers and brought onto an Imperial Star Destroyer. The last memory you had was the white armored soldiers restraining you and giving you a drink of what you thought at the time was water. “Get her up, I think the drink is still in her system.”

“Really?” Another modulated voice sounded beside you, “that’s crazy, it’s been four days and it’s still affecting her this bad?”

Four days?! You’d be out for four days without any knowledge?! Groaning as the man beside you assisted you in sitting up, you were finally able to force your eyes open- as blurry as the atmosphere was, at least you could get some sort of idea where you were. “F-Four…d-days?“ You choked on the words, dryness aching your throat. It felt as if your vocal cords were dust and your mouth the sandy dunes of Tatooine. “We’ll get her some water on the way to the Grand Admiral’s office.” The one at the door explained as his partner lifted you to your feet.

Desperately, your bleary eyes tried to focus on the surroundings you passed. To memorize what it looked like to be in an Imperial Star Destroyer so whenever the knowledge was needed to be used in battle you could recount it perfectly, but the dryness wasn’t just plaguing your throat now- the bright lights overhead still blinding you. It was, you noticed, becoming easier to gain your own footing now, the troopers less rough and uncaring than you expected and it wasn’t long before you were at a door. After one of the Storm Troopers punched in a code, a soft hiss echoed through the quiet hall, and they ushered you inside.

“Who is this?” A whispering voice made you jump, nearly into the ceiling you noticed but wouldn’t admit to anyone who asked. The small corridor was hardly lit, and the hissing voice seemed bodiless.

It made you feel better when one of the men beside you cursed under his breath just enough for you to hear. “Stop sneaking up on people like that, Rhuk. We’re likely to shoot you if you aren’t careful.” The trooper seemed anything but pleased at the sudden start and there was only a hissing chuckle in the dark.

“I am the admiral’s protector, and I shall do my job as arranged.” So, the Grand Admiral had a bodyguard? Not just the Storm Troopers? Another note you placed in the back of your mind for later as the door before you in the darkness whooshed open, itself.

As you were ushered forward again the room you stepped into was surprising. What you had expected from a Grand Admiral’s office was bright overhead lights like the halls that stretched around the ISD, large murals displaying their awards, and perhaps some Galactic Empire paraphernalia to show their “pride” in the imperial navy. But what you were greeted with instead was practically an art gallery with dimmed lights that were backlighting a tall structure that had what looked like furry lizards strewn about it.

But what truly astounded you was the man sitting behind the desk, awaiting your position before him to be to his liking before he spoke. He wasn’t a man, at all. His skin was a surprisingly blue color, nearly sapphire in the dark lighting, dark hair that gleamed its own shade of cobalt, his features serious and thoughtful as you stood in front of the large grey desk now. The facial feature that struck you the most was the all-consuming eyes that sat framed by long dark lashes. The piercing red gaze was disturbing as they narrowed at you, his mouth and chin hidden behind steepled fingers- he was studying you.

“Ya know,” you began, quietly at first, “you had already kidnapped me. I think the drugging was a tad bit overkill.” The sarcasm in your voice made one blue-black eyebrow raise in question, but that was the only movement out of the Grand Admiral sitting before you. Shifting in your wrist shackles, you huff indignantly. “I mean, it was a little nicer than waking up on the cold steel floor, I guess.”

Without a response, the admiral stood from his chair. His stature was imposing, far taller than you’d expected him to be too, you noted. To your surprise- again- he smiled at you politely. “I apologize that your time aboard my ship has not been to your liking.” The voice. Your mind went blank, and eyes widened at the deep, warm voice that came from his lips. The evidence of a life lived speaking a foreign language you probably never even heard accentuating the syllables he spoke. Before you recognized it, the alien man was standing directly in front of you, eyes studying you still as he placed his arms behind him. His entire air seemed noble, regal…Imperial.

No wonder he was a Grand Admiral.

He carried every bit of his title in his stance and your heart ached with uncertainty. But before uncertainty turned to apprehension, the admiral smiled again as he spoke, “Would you, perhaps, mind giving me your name?”

Your eyes narrowed this time. Just because he was intimidating didn’t mean he was going to scare you immediately. “If this is a game, I’m not going to play. You kidnapped me, clearly, you know my name, or at least have some idea of who I am, or else I wouldn’t be here.”

It seemed as if his smile grew from your challenge. He was enjoying himself. “Perhaps,” he commented casually, “though, I prefer to be mannerly in certain circumstances. You are a woman, whether a prisoner of war or not, and I prefer to give you the respect you deserve.” When he saw that you weren’t budging, he let out a dissatisfied breath, as a father would a rebellious child and his face swiftly grew stern. “Very well if you insist. I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, warlord of the Galactic Empire. Welcome aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer; Chimera, (y/n).” Thrawn’s full title was so imposing it nearly knocked the wind out of you, but you purposefully gave no sign of fear.

“Grand Admiral, huh?” You replied interestingly, then changed your weight to one hip as you studied him this time. “But you aren’t human, how did you become a Grand Admiral?” Another smile appeared on his face- patronizing. You grumbled at the grin and stepped away to face the structure behind his desk, petting one of the furry lizards.

 “I am sure you are aware you weren’t brought to me to discuss my time in the Empire,” he almost sounded as if he were chuckling a little and it infuriated you. How could he be laughing so casually? “You see, I brought you here because you are of some importance to my cause.”

Rolling your eyes, you shifted your shackled hands once again, “you mean regaining power for the empire?” You scoffed sarcastically, “it isn’t happening, grand admiral.” The emphasis you put on his title caused one of the men to start forward, grabbing your arm painfully.

“Mind your tongue rebel scum!” He snarled candidly, “you will show the admiral respect.” At the gesture of Thrawn, the Storm Trooper unenthusiastically backed off, releasing your arm.

“You see, (y/n),” Thrawn started as he faced you again from across the room, “I am aware that Skywalker and Solo departed for a mission to aid Calrissian only a few days before we obtained you from the Millennium Falcon and while your capture does not suit my needs for gaining the power I seek for the Empire, it does satisfy someone who will help me gain that control.” So, you were just a pawn? Thrawn once again came to stand before you, his glowing eyes looking down his nose at you as the full weight of his power melted into your bones. “You will tell me everything about Skywalker that I need to know.”

“How do you presume I do that?” Your voice was less aggressive than you were hoping it would sound, but you met his eyes still. The glowing embers sparked with intelligence and wisdom piquing your curiosity briefly. “Do you honestly expect me to just give up someone I care about because you asked it of me?” It seemed as if directness surprised him for a moment because some of his severity eased. “I’m sorry,” you almost seemed genuine about it but, whether it was your exhaustion or your willingness to die for Luke without questions that calmed your nerves, you knew you weren’t going to give Thrawn what he was looking for, “but I’m not going to tell you anything about Luke.”

Thrawn was silent for a long while, gazing at your face, your features. Then he returned to his chair on the other side of his desk, calmly sitting down in the position you’d previously found him in. “Perhaps you can tell me a little about yourself then?” His voice was softer this time around, grabbing his datapad and scrolling through what you assumed were documents.

He was absolutely playing games this time, why on earth would he want to know anything about you? “Why? What do you possibly have to gain from wasting your time getting to know me?” It was becoming clearer that it was your exhaustion that made you apathetic to the idea of death now.

Thrawn peered up from his data pad slightly, the red peaking beneath dark lashes and the raising of the same one brow and he smirked at you, “call it curiosity, (y/n). I am a gentleman, after all. Since you will be staying aboard my ship for a while, I would like to know who I have in my barracks.” His eyes returned to the scrolling screen once again, “tell me,” he started, “are you someone I should be worried about breaking out?”

A short, self-deprecating laugh escaped your lips at his words. “yeah, I’m going to try to break out of my cell and do what? Fly out into chaos knows what by myself?” You shook your head, rolling your eyes, “I don’t think so. I don’t even know where in the galaxy we are. How would I ever have a chance of getting anywhere?” You shook the skirts of your dress as if to notify him of your compliance, “I’m not the fighting type, evidently.”

“Do not mistake me for a fool, (y/n),” Thrawn laid his datapad aside, sitting back into his chair, eyes stern again. “I am mindful of who you travel with and while you may not voluntarily partake in battle, you are proficient at self-defense. It would be unwise for Skywalker to not provide you with some manner of protection.”

You shrugged noncommittally, unnerved by his assumptions and how close they were to the truth. Luke had taught you many self-defense tactics and exactly what to do in case you were in trouble without him. Though it didn’t happen often, and you were always able to call for his help. “So I know a little self-defense to keep myself safe, do you think that’ll give me the confidence to fight myself free?”

“Then will you call for Skywalker's aid?”

Shaking your head immediately, you glared at him, “absolutely not.”

Thrawn smirked again, knowing you were catching on, “perhaps you would like to tell me why?”

“Because I’m not a fool either,” Thrawn smiled at your response- of course, you weren’t. He could already tell. “I’m not going to bring him to you. I’m not going to bring him straight into the heart of the Empire just to save me from you.”

“Interesting,” Thrawn mumbled softly, hand resting below his chin in thought, “you are intriguing, (y/n).”

It seemed as if it were the twelfth time you’d rolled your eyes at this guy, “I’m so happy you think so.” The sarcasm was getting difficult to contain anymore as you continued to go back and forth with Thrawn.

Chuckling, the Grand Admiral grabbed his datapad again, gesturing for the Storm Troopers to leave, “you shall return to your barrack and get some rest. Perhaps after you are well rested, we can continue this conversation.” He glanced at you once more before the troopers took you away, the stony gaze returning, “And you will tell me what I want to know.”

And with that, you were returned to the bedless, steel prison of your barrack to replay the conversational meeting you’d had with Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Tags:

@blueberry-thrawn @myevilmouse @agenteliix @blackmonitor @coffeeorsomething-irl @torchbearerkyle​

[batsyforyou]

Little Dove: Part 1

Manwë X FemChild Reader

Warnings/Tags: POV changes, child crying, a child getting lost, child-ish shenanigans, stress, feeling a little ill, slight depression mentioned, future kidnapping, and some political talk is briefly mentioned as well. Everything here should mostly be fluff right til the end. All possible cuss words/phrases have been removed.

Reader Info: Pronouns Used: she/her. I also mentioned that the reader is blonde and female. If that doesn't work with you just imagine what you want.

Elvish words: These are Quenya mostly, nésa (sister), Elleth (elf-woman), Ellon (Elf-man), Atar (father,) Amillë (mother), Ammë is also mother but I stuck with the first one. If I used any of these incorrectly please let me know and I’ll come back and fix it.

Character List: Manwë, Varda, Fingon, Feanor, Finrod, Maglor, Maedhros, Ramtôr (a named guard really/male oc), Finarfin, Olwë, and Y/n.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with The Silmarillion, the Lord of the Rings, or The Hobbit. I do, however own my fanfic and I ask that no one reposts or puts my work in an AI system. Thank you.

Author’s Note: So here it is a “couple of days” later lol. Overall I think I did an okay job at characterizing Manwë and the rest. I don’t think it's horrible but it could be better. I worked super hard on this so I hope it reads okay for everyone. And please let me know if I made any mistakes or if you have any tips. I’ll try to come back and fix them if I can.

Ps. Please remember this was a part of a larger work. I'm just dicing it into pieces. And I’ll be posting the second part as soon as I can. This story was supposed to have three-five parts. I don't know if I’m gonna post all five or leave it at three. And a little disclaimer here but I have never written for any of these characters before and I’ll admit that dialogue is my weakest skill. Anyway thank you for reading and I hope you have a very blessed day!

And Flora, thank you so so much for all the love and support you gave me! I really appreciate it.  

Little Dove

POV: Manwë

Manwë was ashamed of himself. Truly, was there no worse feeling in the world? Lord Irmo’s Maia had performed wonderfully in their duties. They had prepared Irmo’s Mansion in festive decor in record time and had managed to provide such scrumptious food for the feast tonight. A task he was sure had been near impossible with the sheer number of elves joining this evening, far more than expected. And here he sat with his fellow Vala at a night of Celebration feeling…unwell, to say the least. The burden he usually carried felt heavier than usual. He sat at the head of his table boneless in his chair and his temples pounding. His nerves were tingling with fire and he was so warm he thought he might turn to ash.

He had desperately hoped this evening would go differently.

Tonight they were to celebrate and bless Finwe’s newest grandchild. The elves were quite ecstatic about the Festivals arrangements even some of his own maia were quite pleased. The Halls of Irmo echoed the sounds of music from lutes to flutes to harps to bells and joyous laughter bounced off the walls. Colorful decorations had been hung and the ballroom floor had been polished with enough shine to mirror the people’s reflections. Chandeliers hung above emphasizing both the vaulted ceilings and the embroidered tapestries. Over high arches there were plants and flowers growing and they wrapped around pillars and over some of Lord Irmo’s statues. In between it all the Elves danced about and ate and drank by their tables and sang. Honestly, it was quite a sight.

Shifting in his seat he rested his elbow on the arm rest and placed his head in his hand. With the insistent pounding in his head he briefly closed his eyes to feel the smooth coolness of his robes upon his skin, almost wishing on Varda’s stars he hadn’t been needed for tonight’s attendance. Perhaps if he had done so he wouldn’t have to sit and listen to all the noise.

But no. He had his duties to perform and besides he’d kick himself if he hadn’t come. Somewhere amongst the merry making elves was a sweet little elleth who’d waited very patiently to meet with them. She’d undoubtedly been anxiously awaiting for her big day with bated breath. Heart filled to the brim with the utmost excitement, most likely annoying her parents in the meantime, and he had no desire to ruin the night for her.  Just the thought of it made his stomach churn with guilt.

However, his mind was occupied with bigger things. As much as he’d like his biggest concern to be the happiness of a young elf. He truly had far more important things to think about. Like young Prince Feanor and his strange behavior as of late. Or that of his brother’s sheer lack of, well, effort he should say.

It seemed everything was losing balance and crumbling in towards his feet. He was not sure what to do with the young Prince; in fact, Manwë would go as far as to say Feanor was paranoid. Though a part of him understood that Feanor had always been protective of his work and he had accomplished much in his time. Perhaps the young Prince was simply fixated on a new project again. It did make him wonder what exactly was going through the young elf’s mind when it came to moments like these. Perhaps he should consult Lord Aulë next he saw him.

His brother, Melkor, was not in attendance tonight. With Melkor’s recent release into Valinor he had thought the celebration would be a perfect chance for his brother to reintroduce himself to the Elven people and bolster his morale but alas Melkor had made other arrangements. Simply put Melkor had made no attempt in connecting with the elves or even acknowledging them. He knew Melkor felt terrible about what happened but further isolating himself didn’t help matters.

Manwë took a breath moving to pinch the bridge of his nose strands of his white hair falling in his face. Why both Feanor and Melkor had to be so stubborn instead of simply enjoying themselves would forever boggle his mind. At the mere thought his head ached and as the minutes drew on, it only got worse. He had over exerted himself and was now paying the price.

His lady wife had warned him, his precious lady was the only highlight of his evening thus far and he was forever grateful. He tilted his gaze and watched her through white lashes as she talked freely with Lady Nienna beside him. He adjusted the grip on his face and felt his rings bite into his skin.

Varda was simply breathtaking. She had worn some of her finest robes in honor of the celebration. They were the color of lavender and her new pretty silver circlet sat upon her brow. A large gem of diamond rested on her forehead, sparkling almost as brightly as the tiny dotting of stars in his lady’s raven hair. Simply breathtaking. Exquisite in the highest regard.

Unable to resist he very lightly let the back of his fingers graze her arm, aware of the public eye. Varda glanced at him and he smiled when she turned to face him. Lady Neinna being momentarily distracted with the arrival of her brother Irmo.

His love racked her eyes over him once whispering, “Darling, you look exhausted. How are you feeling?”  

He ignored her, simply taking his time to admire her form. “You look positively ravishing tonight. Have I told you?” She hummed, leaning in and fussing with the side of his robe. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. He could smell the oil she had used, the light floral hint and hear the jingle of her jewelry. He could feel the heat of her words by his ear as she spoke, “Yes, three times this evening, my love.”

“Only three?”

“Only three.”

“An oversight on my part, my dear, I’ll have to regale you with praises of your brilliance to make up for it.”

She laughed. “You’ll have to do so in the comfort of our home.” She sat back into her chair, her drink in hand. He watched as Lady Nienna pulled his wife's attention away from him with a smile. Though the sharp glance Varda sent his way told him that his avoidance in answering her earlier question would not last for long.

He averted his gaze from his wife, feeling his blood pulse and his stomach pinch. He rubbed his forehead and felt a slight dew of sweat. Maybe a minute or two away to compose himself would be best. Rid him of his mood. With a word to his wife Manwë excused himself discreetly slipping from the ballroom and entering Irmo’s blessedly quiet halls.

POV: Finrod

Finrod was silent as he watched the crowd, his blue eyes raking across the room. There were hundreds of elves here tonight. A wonderful turn out for him and his family but a misfortune in Y/n’s eyes. He was quite certain, however; that she'd look back at this moment in life and be grateful so many had come. For his part, he was thrilled to see so many elves had come to celebrate his sister’s special day and share in this moment.

He’d be the first to admit that, in retrospect, he could have planned for Y/n’s first public appearance far better than he did. And while that responsibility belonged to his Atar, and his Atar alone, Finrod felt particularly responsible. After all, as her eldest brother she looked more towards him for guidance and reassurance. And his sister was still a young elf, practically a babe, he felt that it was his job to guide her steps when he could and help her adjust to new things as time grew on.

Before tonight, Y/n hadn’t made any appearances or participated in any event. If the public saw her at all it was a glimpse of her hair and gown.

Naturally when she’d first heard of her party and the expected amount of party goers, she’d been reasonably frightened and had spent the last few months dreading the party. She’d tried to find every excuse under the Light of the Two Trees to not come. And he had tried to lessen her anxiety and subsequent panic by taking her out to the market and letting her explore on her own terms. Even if that consisted of her glaring at passerbyers and gripping onto his hand with all the strength a little elleth like her had.

Despite his best efforts and reminders about the importance of her Presentation to the Valar. Y/n had thrown a fit about attending with Amillë earlier and had told him right before passing the party’s threshold that she was scared to go and had asked him to stay with her.

As a result she’d been wanting his attention like no other tonight. Tugging on his robes and pulling his arm, holding his hand, hugging his leg, and mostly clinging onto him. It’d gotten to the point he almost tripped over her, she’d been so close! All of this while many noble houses and their representatives came to speak with her or more rather him. As he would redirect their attention elsewhere.

He understood she was nervous about being out with so many people. And he understood that she felt safer with him. However, her behavior was getting a little . . . much. Though some part of him felt guilty that he hadn’t been able to better prepare her for tonight. If he had she probably would have fully enjoyed her celebration instead of hiding behind him for the majority of it.

Finrod raised his arm, feeling his robes shift with him and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the beginnings of a headache. This evening was dragging on far longer than he’d like.

“Finnie? . . . Finnie!? . . . Finniee!”

He felt an insistent tugging on his robes and held in a sigh. Dealing with a hyper ten year elfling at such a late hour was not on anyones to do list he was sure. He looked down at his sister and found her clutching tightly onto his robes in her pretty pink gown. Her eyes wide and doe like as she stared into his and he felt some of the tension flow from his shoulders.

“What is it?”

She beamed up at him and bounced on her toes.

“Can we get that pretty cake with the raspberries, please?”

He frowned, raspberry cake? He hadn’t seen that particular treat being severed this evening. Not an actual raspberry cake. A cake topped with raspberries, perhaps?

“What cake?”

“The really small, pretty one, over dere!” Y/n squirmed excitedly and pointed over the buffet table, “Over dere! See?” He followed her finger and found that there was indeed a dessert that had raspberries but it wasn’t a cake, it was a raspberry tart. A sweet tasty pastry made with an almond and raspberry filling. Topped with cream and raspberries. He had eaten it before, it was very tasty, full of flavor. And something a ten year elfing definitely didn’t need at this time of night.  

“How about we save one for you tomorrow, hm?”

“Tomorrow?! Why can’t I have it now? ‘Em hungry now! Pretty please Finnie, I promise to be good!” She whined. Her eyes swelled with water and she jutted out her bottom lip, pouting.

Finrod shook his head, chuckling, “Don’t fret, I'll get you something equally as nice.”

“You promise?” She sniffed.

He playfully rolled his eyes and leaned down to pinch her nose, coaxing a giggle from her. “Of course.”

Y/n vigorously nodded her head excited. “Okay! Can we dance after?”

“I’d be delighted too.” Taking Y/n’s hand he led her to the buffet table. It was decorated with a pink tablecloth and vibrant pink colored rose petals scattered underneath the small fruits and dinner appropriate dishes. The decorations for this evening had been up to Lord Irmo's maia to decide. But he remembered how Y/n had been approached by a maia who had asked her what color she favored best. He smiled remembering the encounter as Y/n happily looked through the options.

He watched his sister fondly as she babbled about the berries she wanted and which were best. Her hair had been loosely braided for the evening. And he knew how much she hated having her hair pinned. She made it a common practice to remind Amillë and every other elf within hearing distance how uncomfortable it was. How the pins always pulled her hair too tight and how silly it made her look. He wouldn’t be surprised if Amillë had been regaled with the usual speech earlier in the evening. With a reminiscent look in his eyes he placed his large hand on her head.

Y/n huffed tilting her head up to glare at him.

“Finnie, you're gonna ruin it!”

He smirked, “Oh, please nésa, I’m not ruining it.”

“Oh, come now, cousin. You know how the ladies are with their hair.”

Finrod grinned and turned to meet the voice of his cousin.

“Fingon!” He stepped forward and clasped Fingon’s shoulder. “It's been several months since I last saw you. How have you been? Staying out of trouble I hope?”

Fingon tossed his head back as he laughed, his roped gold braids bumping against his chest. “Ha! If only! How about you, hm?” He raised a dark brow. “Smooth sailing I hope?”

Finrod released a sigh, and let go of his cousin’s shoulder, “It is as you said, ‘if only,’ though it hasn’t been nearly as miserable as last year's . . . festivities, I should say.” Referencing a particularly nasty disagreement between two noble houses that had happened late last year. Both high ranking ellons who served in the royal court. Their bickering had created quite a scandal though no one really knew as to why or what had started it, only that it had something to do with their daughters and that it had been a private affair. In the end, it’d required the King's discretion in ending whatever it was and the King refused to speak of it. Though that didn’t stop the people from speculating nor the raging gossip that had filled the palace halls.  

Fingon nodded in acknowledgment casting his eyes downward as a playful grin crossed his face, “And it appears my littlest cousin is shy tonight?”

Finrod looked down to see the top of Y/n’s head as she grabbed onto his robes partially hiding behind his leg and a surprisingly good amount of berries in her fist. He was surprised she hadn’t taken the opportunity to steal that pastry she wanted.

“If you came around more often she’d be more familiar with you.” He meet Fingon’s eyes while placing a hand to the back of Y/n’s head again. “Nésa, why don’t you say hi, hm?”

“Hi.” She wiggled herself further behind his leg, cheeks blooming with color. Fingon beamed at her, “Hello, Y/n. How are you tonight?”

“Fine.” Y/n muttered and Finrod lightly bumped her side, “And, and how are you? Do you like the party?” She asked. Quickly shoving a few berries into her mouth.

Fingon made an exaggerated nod, “I do!” Then as if he had a secret to share he leaned in close and covered the side of his mouth. “I especially enjoyed the candied fruits they served tonight.” To prove this he pulled a candied strawberry from, seemingly, his robe’s pocket and happily popped the polished fruit into his mouth.

Y/n let out a disbelieving gasp, “What?!”  She turned to him saying, “Finnie! Why does he get to have his treats and I don’t? That isn’t fair!”

Fingon reeled back in mock horror, “What!? Finrod, is that true? You're keeping her from her cake?”

Finrod glared at him while mildly wondering how many other treats his cousin had up his sleeves, “No, I am not. Now just isn’t the appropriate time for cake. She's had enough sugar for tonight.” He crossed his arms and fought a scowl from his face. He’s dealt with his energetic sister all evening and he wasn’t keen on making the inevitable sugar crash any worse than it had to be. “And she wants a pastry not a cake.”

Fingon ignored him and gave another dramatic gasp, “Not on your Begetting Day! Indeed this isn’t fair!”

He rolled his eyes, “Not that I need to remind you but it is also her Presentation to the Valar. Fetching her more sugar would not be a good idea. She’ll feel sick if she consumes anymore. Not to mention that once the sugar rush leaves I’ll have to deal with a very cranky and exhausted elleth.”

“That's all the more reason to let her have it!” Fingon waved his hand, “Besides she’ll be presented to the Valar soon enough. Why not let her have the treat? She can go to bed right after the Presentation as everyone else will be dancing and-” He paused carefully selecting his next words. “And they’ll be getting further into their drink. It’ll not be a party suited for one so young.”

Then Fingon confidently moved forward and wrapped an arm round around his shoulders. “And I am confident that the other little ones that’d been scattered about will also be leaving for their beds as well.”

Finrod only raised a brow and gave Fingon a warning look. Though Fingon continued to ignore him and instead turned to Y/n who’d been oddly quiet, “You know Y/n, why don’t the two of us go get that pastry you wanted, hm? After all, it is your special day. You should have what you want!”

Fingon separated himself from him and took Y/n’s hand into his as Y/n squealed in excitement.

Finrod sighed, leveling Fingon with a disapproving glare though he made no move to stop him. His cousin smirked at him and wiggled his brows as he and Y/n left to travel further down the buffet table.

Finrod felt his mouth twitch as he fought a smile, happy to see the two spending time together, but instead he rolled his eyes. Watching Y/n as she giggled and hopped alongside her, undoubtedly, new favorite cousin. Thankfully the pair didn’t have to stray far and he could easily keep an eye on her and listen to their conversation with ease.

“My Prince.” Finrod blinked.

Behind him stood Ramtôr, a member of the Royal Guard and a long time friend. He was dressed in golden armor and he held a staff in his hand and a sword hung at his waist. His normally loose hair had been pulled back and he wore a bright smile.

Finrod felt a flood of elation race through him.“Ramtôr!” He beamed. In his excitement he had not realized that he had called Fingon’s attention to him and his cousin watched the newcomer with great interest.

Ramtôr bowed his head, “My Prince, I do not mean to intrude but I've been sent to inform you that his Highness, King Olwë has arrived and is waiting in the foyer.”

And with that Finrod felt his heart leap into his throat.

Masterlist

Little Dove: Prologue If the link doesn’t work please let me know!

A/N: Thank you for reading!

[thetruearchmagos]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday Arch! I have a question for you.

What is the state of medicine in your world? Are things like surgeries, chronic treatments, prosthetics even, common? How are these advancements viewed, and who has access to treatment? Is there stigma associated with medical conditions?

Hey there, and thank you kindly for the Ask!

So, while I was very much tempted to make my answer far more complicated for myself than it needed to be, I'm sure we're all happy to hear that I am not doing that. To keep it simple, we'll be sticking entirely with the 'modern', or 'current' state of medicine in the 12 Worlds, in the United Commonwealth.

A/N: Well, I gotta say, that went a lot faster than I thought it would! Tagging @athenswrites @caxycreations @hessdalen-globe @thatndginger @avrablake

These days, medicine and healthcare in the UC is doing very, very well for itself and for society at large. Both recognisably advanced 'scientific' medicine as well as what might be termed more 'Magical' aid are fairly common, and medical science grants the people of the Commonwealth longer, healthier lives than those enjoyed anywhere beyond else. Healthcare in the modern day is a state service and the largest function of the UC's "welfare', alongside education. It is administered through the Directorate General of Health, which provides a scaled system of public-private payments which seek to ensure maximum coverage across even the least developed segments of the sprawling Commonwealth.

Those, at least, are the spark notes on how it all functions at the highest level. To answer your specific questions:

There's long been a certain association between large portions of the medical profession, and an over eager tendency to err towards taking the most thorough, and invasive, treatments they can. The relatively recent phenomenon of Chronic patients receiving better designed long term treatment is, partially, a reaction to previous sentiments that all efforts should be spent on wiping out the ailment in question as soon as possible, and getting the patient out the door just as quickly. With constantly increasing life spans, I'd expect that the resources allocated to treating conditions associated with old age would only increase as well.

Prosthetic limbs, and artificial organs, do exist in the UC, but mostly serve as temporary fixes while fully 'grown' organs are painstakingly cultivated, pieced together, and eventually reattached to the patient. Such complex organ regrowth is also a relatively recent innovation, and has its roots in the long running efforts of the UC Army to treat its war wounded. General 'disabled accessibility' is nonetheless something treated fairly seriously and well in Commonwealth , since it'd still take time for any physically disabled patient to regain the full use of their bodies.

These technical achievements are generally viewed with great pride across the Commonwealth, and are seen as validations of the UC's systems, institutions, and principles. Under modern state healthcare, accessibility has been promised to all UC citizens, anywhere, anytime, and great efforts have been underway to construct the vast apparatus and infrastructure needed to deliver on that promise.

At the same time, the perceptions and attitudes that exist within Commonwealth society are hardly universal, despite its best efforts. Just as some view the interventions of the central government as that of a foreign entity, stigmas and prejudices do exist within the various societies that make up the UC's vast fabric. Those which have existed within the Commonwealth umbrella the longest tend to take less prejudicial views in general, while attitudes differ in those societies which have less integrated with the UC's "zeitgeist"

A Brief Note On 'International Health'

Though I wished to keep this all simple, a comment on the Commonwealth's systems of health cannot be complete without addressing how it relates with 'foreign' states through that medium.

Many aspects of the UC's established politics is rooted in the internationalist 'Pan-Humanitarian' movement, whose founding advocates, though often varied between themselves, still acted in unison to bring about the union of their various nations into the singular Commonwealth. This worldly streak certainly remains in the mainstream of UC politics, and can be seen through its undying attempts to export what health it can to the peoples of the Worlds.

Alongside its more general forms of 'civic aid' - which might include disaster response assistance, operating 'mission schools', and even the 'training' of governments employees - the UC has often attempted to provide direct medical support to non-hostile foreign nations. It is for that mission that many thousands of UC healthcare professionals have been 'deployed' abroad, working in conjunction with the Foreign Commission and local agencies to provide the full panoply of medical services, within their means.

Further afield, the UC leads the Worlds in a number of healthcare related movements, most notably in terms of international vaccine roll outs and disease eradication efforts. Often conducted through the forum of the venerable and private Al-Safi Institute of Medicine, it features the most visible attempts by the Commonwealth to reach across borders and blocs to work towards solutions for all humanity.