#i really appreciate the vulnerability it took to send this. this can be such a personal wound that (understandably) people hesitate to show

[uncanny-tranny]

how do you deal with loving yourself in an age where everybody publicly hates you? i think my internalised transphobia/homophobia is actually killing me

I think first, you have to forgive yourself for not loving or even liking yourself. That may sound counterproductive, but when I actually did this, I felt so much less pressure to perform love and to pretend like I was okay.

This is a process that can take years, and honestly? I still struggle with this. It's not realistic to expect yourself to wake up and be fine. Recognize when you aren't okay, when you feel that self-loathing, and don't feel shame over it (easier said than done, yes, but it is important). What you feel is only natural. What you feel is completely understandable.

Some of the things I have done beyond what I put above are:

Finding a passion outside of anything related to my internalized transphobia/homophobia. For me, this is crafting. It separates me from the world and from myself in such a way that I feel... beyond myself, if that makes sense. It's a liminal space where nothing matters, but what is in front of me

Community. Finding your own place in this world is incredibly important, and it can be difficult. If there is an LGBT center near you, please go there, even if you leave early. Being surrounded by others who are not only similar but you can see can make a difference.

Learning. This one might not work, but I found that education helped me love this world in a way that really helped change my view. I've dabbled in science and history because they're my favourites, but I think learning the beautiful parts of this world can help to make you reflect on how you aren't seperate from this world, you are integral to it.

Make time for yourself. Whatever time you have left, dedicate it to you. What this means, only you can say. For me, I set time for myself to enjoy video games and crafting and being with my cats. This time should be true to what you want to do in order to listen to and honour yourself

In the vein of community: Surround yourself with others like you, with trans and gay and queer people - with a broad spectrum of our communities. Don't tolerate intolerance, and when you come across it, remember your worth and remember that you and your existence aren't debates. You are an actual person. You don't have to entertain the idea that you are anything less.

Remember the world can be kind. The world can (and will) show you kindness, especially where you least expect it. It may seem like the hatred you hear is loud, but louder still will be the people who will see you for you and won't turn away from you.

This isn't a cure-all. I won't peddle magic cures, and I don't want to give the impression that you are "wrong" or "bad" for how you are doing. You aren't the first person to feel this way, and you aren't the only one, either. In that sense, your pain isn't felt alone. I hope that you can feel peace and safety within yourself, if not now, then one day. You are worth that. If you aren't ready for this, please keep all this in your back pocket. It is never too late. It won't be too late.

[thinkinonsense]

ok so i had a thought😏😏 dbf!logan takes ur virginity and from then on u guys hook up whenever u get a chance (all the time). one night he gets done dicking u DOWN and u say u love him and he’s all like “we can’t do this anymore kid” very ANGSTYYY

i love you, i'm sorry- dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part two *mdni

"i love you, logan."

four little words that would send your world crumbling before your feet. the older man lifts himself from in between your chest, both of you panting post orgasm. nights like this had become a bad habit for the both of you.

from the moment logan first slipped off your panties in this exact spot a year ago, you had been wanting to tell him how you really felt. you wanted to tell him how you craved his touch when he wasn't around, how you adored the way he took care of you and most importantly, how this didn't feel 'casual' to you anymore.

seconds turned into minutes of silence, desperately waiting for logan to say something; anything.

"lo, are you going to say some-"

"we can't see each other anymore, kid." he says, avoiding eye contact with you as he pulls out.

"what?"

this wasn't real. that's the only sentence that your brain could form as you watch him put his boxers back on. you laid there on his bed, naked, vulnerable, with his cum dripping out of you and he can't even look you in your fucking eyes.

"ya' heard me." logan says, putting a cigar in his mouth and tossing your dress on the bed next to you.

"what happened?" your voice was trembling on the verge of rage and heartbreak.

"i told you a year ago not to bring that 'love shit' in here."

a year ago when he took your virginity. he promised to be gentle and to care for you. guess that didn't extend past sex for him.

you scoff, pulling your sundress over your head. "you didn't say that when you said you love how tight i fit around you or when you said you love how well i know you. was any of that even true?"

logan ignored you as he lit his cigar and waited for you to leave. you stand up and walk over to him, touching his chin and turning to so he's facing you.

"look me in the eyes when you kick me out of your bed." you spit angrily at the man you adored endlessly.

all logan could see was your eyes full of tears and your red puffy lips, trying to keep yourself together. deep down, he knew he deserved all the shit in the world thrown at him for him for breaking your heart. you would never understand why he had to be so cruel but his intentions were never to hurt you like this. it killed him.

"find someone your own age to love, kid." logan says, twisting the knife.

"don't call me kid, logan!" you yell at him. "i'm not a fucking child!"

"then stop acting like one!" his voice boomed back at you, spurring on more tears.

who had he turned into? you couldn't recognize the man in front of you. this wasn't your logan.

"so, you're just going to let me leave like this?" you cry, glaring at him. "give up everything we have all because you're afraid of me loving you?"

you didn't expect an answer, he already shoved your hand away from his face, no longer wanting the image of your broken heart haunting him.

logan wanted to tell you everything, explain why he can't accept your love because it will put you at a greater risks, but logically, logan knows he has to let you go.

"in ten years, when your ass is still sitting drunk on one of my fathers bar stools and he shows you photos of me and a man who can appreciate me for more than sex, a man who can admit he loves me back, you'll remember this moment because this will be the last time you ever fucking see me." you tell him rather calmly as you collect your shoes and purse.

logan watches you do as he asks and leave. if he was a better man, he would have done it differently; but then again, if he was a better man, he never would've fooled around with a twenty-something year old.

the front door slams with a broken sob escaping your lips. from the bedroom, logan could hear your car engine starting and that's when he could allow himself to grieve the life he would've had.

[unluckilyimnot]

reader hugging them for the first time

Characters : mikey, chifuyu, kazutora, koko, rindou, sanzu, wakasa

asked by : @ejtheoneandonly

m.list | rules

note: i hope it's what you expected ! it's been a while since i write for them, it makes me nostalgic

Mikey isn’t really surprised when your arms wrapped around him for the first time. His eyes widened a little at the comforting feeling but soon, a huge smile flashed on his face before he turned to look at you slightly.

Something is warming up in his heart and he can’t put his finger on it. All he knows is that he wants to feel it again.

Chifuyu felt like he was in a manga. You grabbed his waist, pushed your cheek on his and snapped a picture with your phone. All of this happened so fast he didn’t get to process the moment but as your hand lasted a little around his back, his cheeks were already burning.

But he has to play it cool, leaning in as you showed him the picture. “We’re cute ! Send it to me later !”

future!roommate!Kazutora’s tears were falling down his face for a while now and when he heard the front door he kinda regretted staying there. You passed the door silently at first before hearing him sniff on the sofa. Taking a few steps after leaving your shoes at the entrance, you gasped slightly when you saw him.

He was pushing his tears away, trying to cover it up, he didn’t have any right to impose that on you. Yet, you didn’t think about it twice and your arms wrapped around his shaking shoulders, pulling him into your chest. “It's okay, it happens.”

Koko felt your body fall on his back while he was still studying at the library. Your arms kindly wrapping themselves around his neck as you took a look above his shoulders. “Are you done soon, Hajime ?”

He can feel his heart beating faster at the surprise, yet loving the way you warmed him up in a few seconds. He thought about it a bit longer than necessary and now, it took him too long to answer without sounding weird. But it’s fine. He could easily get used to you hugging him.

“Rindou I’m scared I can't jump from there ?!” you screamed from the low wall the Haitani brothers just passed by as if it was nothing. Rindou sighed a little before pulling his arms in the air, ready to catch you.

“Come on.” He could feel his ears burn when you smiled at him. He was shocked to see you jump with so much confidence when you were whining a second ago. You fell into his arms, holding onto him longer than you should’ve and he couldn’t help but not let go. He didn’t want to, this felt too good.

Future!Sanzu was shocked, like he never felt something so reassuring in his entière life the first time your hands pulled his head into your shoulder.

“It's alright.” Your fingers lightly brushing through his hair made him close his eyes, enjoying the moment the fullest. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe this wasn't even real. But the warmth engulfing him felt so real that he wanted to keep it for himself only.

Wakasa knew you weren’t the one open with physical touch, but he never intended to ask anything about it or even mention it. He just acknowledged it a long time ago. So when you came to his place that night, crying, face bruised, he felt all his old anger coming back to him, wanting to know what happened. Who did that to you.

But before he could even open his mouth, your arms were wrapped around his waist and you started ugly crying in his chest, wetting his shirt. He froze for a second, processing the whole citation before hugging you closer, feeling proud that you thought of him in this vulnerable situation.

Let me know if you liked it !

Reblog are appreciated ♡

[dixonsfawn]

𖥔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; you make coriolanus feel like he's losing control.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!reader, whole bunch of fluff honestly.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.3k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; not going to lie... i loved writing this one. i don't think i've written anything as fast as i wrote this bc it truly just flew out of me. this man really has me acting up and i am so here for it.

coriolanus snow was never one to let himself be vulnerable in the eyes of another, and for as long as you had known him there was one thing you were always certain of, he had to be in control. he depended on it. craved it. the thought alone, of everything slipping from his grasp and not going to plan, made his head swirl and his skin crawl. 

so when he met you, he began to question himself. question everything he had been working for, everything he had been fighting for, as you slowly wiggled your way into his heart. he was taken by you, and that scared him. 

you were a breath of fresh air in his carefully curated world, a burst of colour amidst the struggles of his life. your spontaneity and liveliness enchanted him, capturing his attention and leaving him craving more. he had never felt this way about anything before. 

as you sat there in the beauty of the meadow, a gentle breeze brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of the wildflowers. the sunlight streamed through the canopy of leaves above, painting a warm hue across everything it touched. the tranquillity of it all enveloped you, filling your heart with a sense of contentment.

you and coriolanus were close together on an old picnic blanket you had found, not needing any words to communicate as you took in the peacefulness. his presence alone was enough to make you feel safe and at ease.

you watch on as his fingers trail through the grass, stopping when he comes across a dandelion, and plucks it from its root, “it certainly doesn’t compare to the roses grandma’am grows.”

“some people think of them as weeds, but not me. i think they’re beautiful all the same,” you add, bringing a smile to each of your faces, and take the flower from his hands. “in some ways, i feel just like them; a weed in a world where i should be seen as more.”

coriolanus observes you as you take a closer look at the small flower, appreciating its simple beauty. the yellow, though not as vibrant as a rose, held its own charm. you don’t hold it for long before he takes it back, twirling it with his thumb and forefinger. 

he stares at the flower for a moment before reaching to brush the stem behind your ear, his fingers then lingering as he trails them along the line of your jaw, sending a surge of emotions down your spine. you smile at him, it’s all you could do. if you spoke you weren’t sure what jumbled mess was sure to spew out. 

you bring your hand up to meet his, intertwining your fingers as you lean into his touch. his eyes bore into you, taking you in, appreciating your features under the sunlight. 

“look what you’ve done to me,” he whispers, as if it were some unspoken secret. which, in your case, it was. 

intrigued by his statement, you perk up, “and what exactly is it that i’ve done to you, coriolanus snow?” 

you watch him intently as he opens his mouth to speak, a thought lingering in his mind before he stops and lets his head fall between his shoulders instead. his silence is heavy, lingering in the air between you. you can almost feel the weight of the unspoken words pressing against your skin. 

you reach out tentatively, your hand hovering just inches from his, wanting desperately to bridge the distance but afraid of intruding. the two of you have always shared a deep connection, but something feels different today. something is weighing him down, and you yearn to understand. 

as he continues to fiddle absentmindedly with a blade of grass, you can see that his mind is working overtime. thoughts and feelings swirl like a whirlwind, causing his brow to furrow and his grip on the grass to tighten. 

eventually, he looks up, his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and uncertainty. two things coriolanus liked to keep to himself. 

it’s then that you decide to break the silence. “what’s wrong, my love?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone, you know.”

he looks at you, gratitude mingling with a wisp of fear in his eyes. whatever it was bothering him, you could see that it was taking its toll, and you simply wanted to take him in your arms and kiss it all away, but you knew that that wouldn’t help. 

“i don’t know what i’m doing anymore,” he finally answers. “i feel like i’m losing track of who i am and what i want, what i’ve always wanted, the longer i’m out here.”

“things can change, coriolanus, and you don’t always have to live up to others' expectations of you. especially, your own. so long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” his gaze falls from yours once again, but you refuse to let him suffer in silence anymore. so you reach for him, gathering his face between your fingers and pull him back towards you. “is it really such a bad thing? you get to be here with me.”

“that’s exactly the problem,” he admits, and your breath hitches momentarily as you wait for him to elaborate. “you make me feel like i’m losing control.”

for so long coriolanus had been bound by societal expectations and concerned with maintaining a pristine reputation. he had become so accustomed to a life ruled by rigid schedules and strict rules, never allowing himself to deviate from the norm. 

but with you, everything changed. 

you were afraid to ask, but you knew you had to, for your own piece of mind. “is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

he reaches to touch your face this time, your hands falling from his, and he pulls you closer towards him until your faces were merely a couple inches apart. “i have never felt so free, and yet, so scared in my life.”

“is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” you ask the question a second time, this time with more hesitancy as your voice shakes slightly. 

“it’s the best thing.” tears well up in your eyes as his words sink in. you never imagined that you could have such a profound impact on someone’s life, let alone someone as lost and conflicted as he was. “you’re my wildflower, and while i might not have been looking for you, i certainly found you where i least expected it.”

he smiles, his hands caressing your cheeks, as your heart thrums loudly in your chest, overjoyed and so full of love. leaning forward, you close the space between you, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, so full of passion that it almost envelopes you completely. 

you had brought coriolanus a sense of newfound freedom, showing him the beauty of embracing life’s uncertainties and every unpredictable moment. your spirit was infectious, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to your untamed soul. 

as he fell deeper in love with you, he realised that his heart yearned for the wildness and unpredictability you offered. he saw the vibrant world through your eyes, letting go of his inhibitions and stepping out of his comfort zone. 

you became his wildflower, a symbol of untamed beauty and unapologetic love. 

as you hold each other close, only pulling away to catch your breath, but not daring to pull away too far, coriolanus runs his thumb across your bottom lip. then, with his voice filled with tenderness and newfound appreciation, he whispers, “my wildflower.”

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

(quite) big (not so) bad wolves

pairing: bunny hybrid fem!reader x wolf hybrid!Seungcheol x wolf hybrid!Joshua x wolf hybrid!Mingyu (ft. fox hybrid!Yeji and fox hybrid!Wooyoung)

genre: smut, pwop. minors dni.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and medication, foursome, all of them are mean doms (especially shua), breeding (stay safe), face fucking, double penetration, knotting, knotfucking, manhandling, degradation, reader is a brat through and through, voyeurism, choking

word count: ~3.4k

summary: everyone is scared of the big bad wolf in fairytales - not you though. you love them a little too much for your own good.

Author’s note: writing break time is over hoes, back to business for good :D

nsfw taglist: @rosecult @bibinnieposts @ovai @littlemisssarcastic21 @tinkerbell460 @jonghyuns-husband @romromthedeer @y00nzin0 @llsiriusminorisll @booyouwhore17 @delicatewerewolfsoul @aliceu

special taglist (aka suffering): @smileysuh @lovelyhan @duhnova @himbocoups @junkissed @idyllic-ghost @flowerwonu @playmetheclassics​ @sluttyminghao​

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

“It fucking stinks in here,” Yeji complains with a whine, “I know their hormones are through the roof but fuck, take a damn bath!”

“You’re saying this because you took two showers and poured an entire perfume bottle on you before we left,” you giggle, sipping on your cocktail.

“At least I can enjoy my cocktail without having to worry about heat meds.” 

“Yeah…Sure….,” you gulp down, feigning innocence. 

“Oh, you fucking slut.” Yeji pokes her cheek with her tongue, “You never took heat suppressants, did you?”

“Okay no I didn’t, so what?” You admit with a sassy glare.

“Well I hope I won’t end up all alone because your pussy decided to ditch me for some hybrid dick.” She clicks her glass with yours.

“I think the two-tone haired fox over there has a different opinion than yours,” you nod towards the approaching male.

“Good evening, ladies,” he smoothly enters the conversation while swirling his whiskey, “I take it there was an interesting topic under discussion?”

“Yeah, you,” Yeji blurts out without thinking, “Uh, I mean, shit-”

“It’s okay,” he laughs, swishing his silver marble colored tail, “I’m Wooyoung, by the way.”

“I’m Yeji and that’s my friend, Y/N-”

“Who is about to be left all alone,” you joke and your friend swats her tail at your leg with a dull thud.

“You saw right through me - but I guess it’s expected from someone like you,” Wooyoung comments.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Yeji raises her eyebrow in question.

“Despite looking cute and rather vulnerable, bunnies are highly intelligent.”

“Oh that’s what you mean - Although Y/N is pretty smart, bunny hybrid or not,” the female fox grins and she earns an affectionate glance from you.

“I appreciate the compliments, but I think the both of you have much better things to do,” you give them a knowing smile.

“Have fun, Y/N!” Yeji excitedly kisses your cheek before taking off with her newfound company.

“And stay away from the predators, bunny. If you know what I mean.” Wooyoung sends you a sly wink, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

“Aaaaand I’m all alone. Wonderful,” you sigh audibly, looking at your cocktail, “Welp, cheers to me, I guess.”

You take a look around the bar, your eyes scan the other patrons - some are alone like you, some are drinking with their friends and others are flirting with their dates.

"One Hennessy on rocks."

Your ears perk up at the smooth voice on your left and your nose is filled with a very attractive scent. You slowly turn your head towards the source of your current torture and you swear you feel yourself swooning over the handsome stranger.

Silky black hair, slicked back with a few strands falling down on his forehead. Smooth, doll-like skin and rosy lips tenderly touching the rim of the glass.

God, you really want to suck his dick.

"Take a picture, it will last longer." He breaks the silence without looking at you and your cheeks start heating up.

"Oh shit- I-"

"It's okay, I was just messing with you" he chuckles, "Mind if I sit here?"

"I mean, nobody's sitting here," you point to the empty seat next to you and he slides into it with one smooth move.

"Hi."

"Hey there."

"What's your name?"

"I'm Y/N. And you?"

"I'm Joshua. You have a pretty name." He takes a sip from his glass.

"Thank you. And you have a pretty face." You reply and mirror his movements.

"So…what brings you here, Y/N?"

"Just wanted to have a good time with my friend. What about you, Joshua?"

"Just wanted to have a good time without my friends," he laughs, "Where is your friend though?"

"Oh, she kinda ditched me for a fox guy - He was pretty though, not gonna lie."

"Ugh, foxes - Was never fond of them." He grimaces.

"Hey, that's my friend you're talking about!"

"Your friend is a fox hybrid?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with being friends with a fox?"

"Are you kidding me? You're a bunny hybrid!" Joshua laughs, "But then again, you're talking to me right now."

"You're so funny." You snort into your drink.

"Funny?"

"Just because you're a wolf hybrid doesn't mean you're the big bad wolf, you know."

Joshua lets out a deep chuckle and scoots close enough for his leg to touch yours. 

"Just because I'm being a gentleman right now doesn't mean I can't be the big bad wolf later." 

“Ooh, how scary.” You joke, drinking the rest of your alcohol.

“You’re teetering on a very dangerous edge, love.” Joshua’s tone drops a few octaves, accompanied by a barely there growl.

At this point, you’re certain you can feel your insides starting to get warm and squelchy. 

“You mentioned that you have friends, right?”

“Yeah. And what about it?”

“Are they wolves too?”

“Yeah, we live together. Are you interested in meeting them?” Joshua raises an eyebrow.

“Mm-hm. I bet they are very fun to hang out with.”

“Darling, are you seriously inviting yourself into a den full of alphas?”

“Maybe I am.” you grin and lean closer to him, crossing your legs.

"Bet I can take you and your friends' knots effortlessly."

Joshua lets out an evident growl and takes out his wallet, throwing a few bills on the counter.

"If your goal was to get laid tonight, congratulations, you're getting exactly that." He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you flush to his chest with a dull thud.

A giggle escapes your lips when you walk out of the club, a thin string of wetness hanging from your hole to your left thigh. 

"Is your house far from here?"

"Just a five minute walk from here," Joshua holds you close, "Scared you'll soak the pavement before we get there, baby bunny?"

You gasp when you hear his words, but you can't bring yourself to form a good rebuttal.

"Thought so. Now hop hop, little bunny."

"Fuck, it smells so nice in here." you half moan when Joshua presses you on the door and runs his canines over your neck.

"Is it you or your heat talking, darling?"

"Both."

"You're so cute, Y/N." Joshua smiles and his eyes crinkle into crescent moons, making your heart swell.

Suddenly, you hear two unfamiliar voices yelling from afar, probably bickering in a different bedroom. Your ears perk up and your nose goes wild, although Joshua doesn’t share the sentiment, judging from the sigh he lets out.

“Those idiots.”

“Your friends, I presume?”

“Yeah. And they don’t seem to be in a good-”

“Joshua fucking Hong!”

A very pissed off man slams the bedroom door shut and stomps his way towards you, nostrils visibly flaring.

“Seungcheol, I can explain-”

“Explain what? That you decided to bring over a girl who’s also a bunny hybrid? All while I’m fighting to keep Mingyu in check?”

“Um, excuse me, I’m right here and I can hear you, mister pissed off.” You wave your hands in front of the agitated man.

“I am fully aware of that,” he shifts his attention to you, “And my name is Choi Seungcheol, but I’m also very pissed off - Not your fault, though.”

“Can you at least tell us what’s going on?” Joshua butts into the conversation.

“Mingyu went into his rut earlier than he was supposed to.”

“Oh.” Joshua stands baffled.

“Is that all you have to say?! I’ve been trying my damn best to calm him and his goddamn dick down and the best thing you can say is ‘Oh’?” Seungcheol angrily huffs.

“Hey, you have absolutely no reason to shit on me because Mingyu is horny - Like, what am I even supposed to do, suck his dick?!” Joshua retorts.

You watch the two men bicker for a couple of seconds until you hear a door being slammed shut and your eyes go wide when you see the definition of tall, dark and handsome walking towards you, half naked and sweat dripping down his beefy chest.

“What the fuck are you two arguing about?” The man in question - this must be Mingyu, you think - lets out a groan, “Can’t a man suffer in rut in peace?”

“Now that’s an oxymoron,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes, “I’m sorry you had to witness this,” he turns his attention to you, “Can we make it up to you somehow?”

“I can definitely think of a way that will solve enough of our problems in the vicinity,” you bite your bottom lip, “Not to mention that Joshie and I have a bet going on.”

“That reminds me…” Joshua comes behind you and you yelp when he effortlessly picks you up and settles you down on the couch, immediately pulling you in his lap, “Baby bunny was quite bold back when we were talking in the bar.” He smooths his palms over your thighs and spreads them apart, exposing your naked cunt to the other two men.

“She even said she can effortlessly take all of our knots.”

Mingyu lets out an obscene growl as his cock twitches in his sweats and he does not hesitate to drop on his knees in front of you, his nose mere centimeters away from your pussy.

"What's your name, bunny?"

"Y-Y/N," you gulp down, more wetness dripping from your hole.

"Pretty name," Mingyu rasps, "Now I know what to moan when I'll fuck this bunnycunt with my knot," he licks a fat stripe from your entrance all the way to your clit with his tongue, savouring your juices like a famished animal (he's actually one).

"Be patient, Gyu," Joshua clicks his tongue as he fumbles with the belt of his jeans, taking out his flushed cock and rubbing the tip all over your pussy.

"Oh my God, stop teasing and just stick it in!" You whine pathetically.

"You're not fucking her pussy first, Shua," Mingyu flashes his sharp canines with a menacing snarl as he shoves his sweats down to his knees, cock slapping against his toned stomach.

"Fuck, your cock is fucking huge, Gyu," you nearly drool at the sight, "I really need you fuck me stupid."

"These two are so goddamn impatient," Seungcheol's voice is heard right across the couch and you notice him sitting down on a chair, thighs wide spread, hands relaxed on the armrests, "Wishing you luck, Shua."

"Hey, pretty bunny," Joshua caresses your jaw with his hand and turns your face towards him, "Have you ever tried anal before?" What a fucking stupid question.

You nod feverishly, your sanity slipping away when you feel Mingyu's bulbous tip stretching your hole as he pushes his cock in, your head rolling back on Joshua's shoulder from the overwhelming feeling of fullness.

"Of course you have - It stimulates your pretty lil' fluffy tail, doesn't it?" 

"Mm-hm," you clench around Mingyu's cock, "N-Now are you gonna fuck my ass or what?!"

"Babe, you need to be p-"

"Just put it in!" 

"Both of you shut the fuck up." Mingyu growls and picks up your thighs, pushing them flat against your chest. He starts hammering your pussy, setting a rough pace from the very beginning and you can only cling onto his thick forearms, tears stinging your eyes.

"This - this is what I needed, fuck," the man above you huffs and moans with each thrust he delivers, "Your pussy is fucking magic, Y/N."

In between your horny haze, a loud gasp escapes your lips as you feel you other hole being stretched out and you realize it's Joshua finally acting up and fucking you like you wanted to.

"She's so…tight, nngh," the older man groans when he thrusts his cock in your ass, wrapping his arms around your midriff for leverage, "Bunnies are really something else."

Your brain can barely register what the two wolves say, all you can focus on is the delicious stretch of their cocks and how full you feel.

"She's delirious," Seungcheol half-moans, his hands now busy with his own cock, eyes fixated on your body taking whatever his wolf friends are giving you - patiently waiting for his turn to ruin you.

“Fuck, I’m almost ready to knot her,” Mingyu hisses through his teeth, your whimpers growing louder each time his swollen knot prods at your hole, threatening to push into you any second now.

“Please knot me, Gyu, pretty please!” You whine and dig your nails in his tanned forearms.

“You want him to knot you, darling?” Joshua snickers in your ear as he fucks your other hole from beneath, “Are you sure you can take his big, bad wolf knot in your tiny little bunnycunt?”

“She can and she will,” Seungcheol growls from the other end of the living room, his hand fisting his already swelling knot, “There are three wolves in this house and my patience is running thin.”

You opt to open your mouth and talk back, but it all dies down in a silent moan when Mingyu finally pushes his entire knot in your heat, an evident bulge forming in your tummy - all thanks to his size. The man licks his lips with an obscene sound when he takes out his entire cock, only to slam it back into you with full force.

“M-Min-gyu, s-shit! I’m gonna cum!” You scream and arch your back off Joshua’s torso, but his arms keep you locked flush to him, tears streaming down your cheeks from feeling full to the brim. 

“Aw, is the pretty little bunny crying already?” The older man gives you a pout of fake sympathy as he pushes his own knot in your ass without a warning and cums in you with a loud snarl, “And here I thought - fuck - that you could actually take our knots without a hitch,” he licks the tears off your left cheek, “You dumb little bunny whore.”

“I c-can t-take anything you g-guys will give me, I p-promise!” You sob between moans as Mingyu keeps hammering his knot in your swollen pussy, his nails digging into your soft skin.

“Oh really, bunny? Then how about this?” The man above you effortlessly lifts you up by gripping your waist, ripping you away from Joshua in an instant. He holds you in the air as if you’re a doll made of cotton and he fucks you as fast as he can, using you like a fleshlight. 

“You have the best pussy I’ve ever fucked, Y/N,” he rasps, knot starting to twitch in your cunt, “And I’m gonna treat it with a nice, fat load in it.”

“Pleasepleaseplease give me you cum, Gyu, fuck my bunnycunt full of your pups!” You wrap your legs around Mingyu’s waist, clinging onto him as if your life depends on it. 

The wolf hybrid buries his face in the crook of your neck as he cums, knot finally plugging you up to make sure every single drop stays in your cunt. You squirm in Mingyu’s arms from sensitivity, fresh tears of bliss staining your cheeks as you cum around his knot and squeeze him even tighter.

“Desperate lil’ cockslut, aren’t you?” He peers down on you through his thick black curls, “Cheol hasn’t even fucked you yet, doll.”

“I-I can take h-him too,” you croak out, “J-Just stuff me full already, please!”

Seungcheol gets up from his seat and discards his t-shirt, coming right behind you. His calloused hands caress the swell of your ass and they climb higher and higher, until they reach your chest. He slides your dress down to your waist, letting your tits bounce freely.

“Can’t believe you idiots didn’t take her dress off,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance while fondling with your tits, “Such a pretty little thing for us to enjoy all night long.”

“C-Cheol-”

“You’ve been running that mouth of yours all night long, haven’t you?” He grips your jaw.

“You have no fucking idea, Cheol.” Joshua sighs from the couch, jerking himself off at the sight of you being held in the air like a rag doll.

“Gyu, hold her waist. Tight.” Seungcheol orders the younger wolf and the latters lets out a snarl, but obeys either way. With one swift move, Seungcheol brings you backwards on eye-level with his cock, gripping your arms with his big hands.

“Have you ever sucked off a wolf hybrid before, bunny?”

“H-How hard can it be-”

“It ain’t your regular dick, sweetheart,” the older man rubs his swollen shaft over your cheeks, “That’s a wolf’s knot you’re about to take down your throat.”

“J-Just fuck my throat then, Cheollie!” You moan and pout your lips, eagerly kissing and licking his shaft to tease him.

“You’re one hungry little bunny.” Seungcheol chuckles and pushes his shaft into your mouth, a small gagging noise echoing in the living room as you try to fit his cock in your throat.

“Shit, she’s taking it like a champ,” Mingyu moans at the sight of your throat bulging around Seungcheol’s cock, “I could cum again from this.”

“God, I always forget how annoying you are when you’re in your rut,” the oldest scoffs and starts thrusting into your mouth with brute force, saliva starting to drip from the corners of your lips. Your eyes roll in the back of your skull, pussy clenching around Mingyu’s knot for the umpteenth time.

“Holy fuck, Y/N,” Joshua moans from afar, hand speeding up on his cock, “You better wreck the shit out of her, both of you, fuck!”

“Hear that, darling bunny? Joshie wants us to fuck the shit out of you,” Seungcheol laughs and flashes his sharp canines, “Good thing I was planning to do exactly that.”

He puts one hand on your throat, the other gripping your arm and he rams his cock down your throat, your tits bouncing from the force of his thrusts. You can only moan and whine around his veiny shaft, still stuck on Mingyu’s fat knot.

“I’ve wanted to stuff your pretty little mouth ever since you stepped into our apartment,” Seungcheol growls, “Mess up your glossy, puffy lips and make you cry from my cock - But you’re a greedy little slut who wanted to fuck my friends first.”

You wish you could talk back to him and rile him up even more, but he’s right in everything he says and you have zero regrets.

“Shit, I’m about to knot,” Seungcheol moans, “I’m gonna knot your bratty little mouth, bunny, hope you have big lungs.”

Your eyes go wide when he pushes your knot in your mouth, locking himself in place to cum straight down your throat, trying your best to swallow all of his cum. As if on cue, Mingyu’s knot finally softens and slips out of you, your pussy overflowing with his thick load.

You dig your nails into Seungcheol’s thighs, your oxygen running low, but he gets the hint and carefully removes his knot out of your mouth, allowing you to breathe.

“Fuck -cough- shit! Why the fuck are you so -cough- big?!” You try to regain your composure, body still shaking from your orgasms.

“Told you, sweetheart,” Joshua stands up from the couch, sweaty and sticky from his own orgasm, cum staining his abs, “Wolves are just built differently.” He swiftly gets between the two other men and carries you bridal style, rolling his eyes when he notices Mingyu plopping on the couch tiredly.

“That…was the best dicking I’ve ever experienced,” you mumble in your post-sex haze, “Even if I feel sore everywhere.”

“I don’t think it would have been the best dicking if you weren’t a tiny bit sore, bunny.” Joshua laughs and his eyes morph into the same crescent moons you first noticed back in the bar.

“Um, Josh? Where are you taking me?”

“To the bathroom, silly! You need a serious shower right now.”

“As if you don’t need one.” You snort.

“Cheol is right, you have a really bratty mouth.”

yeji🦊: y/n where tf are u??

yeji🦊 : girl i’ve been calling you for ages

yeji🦊 : Y/N L/N ANSWER UR GODDAMN PHONE

y/n🐇: hey bae 

y/n🐇 : sry for going mia but i’m okay!!

yeji🦊 : okay as in??

y/n🐇 : getting the best dicks in my life 

yeji🦊 : hold tf up- DICKS??

yeji🦊 : HOW MANY GUYS DID YOU FUCK YOU BITCH-

[brittscafe]

𝐁𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡

Pairing: Aizen Sosuke x reader

Summary: Aizen Sosuke and reader take a bath together.

Request: Taking a bath with Aizen

A/n: Heyyy! I really enjoyed writing something soft and calm for Aizen, I hope you enjoy! <3

Content: brief nudity, mostly sfw.

Ko-fi link (anything is appreciated <3)

You step into the warm room filled with steam and candles light up around the bathroom. The room is scented with vanilla and honey, a scent that pleases your nostrils.

Aizen is in front of you, bare back and muscles popping out. He turns off the faucet to the hot water, tub full of it and foamy bubbles. You quietly close the door behind you as Aizen turns around and faces you.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his chest and abs out for view. He clears his throat and your eyes shoot up to his own.

"Sorry," you grumble out as he walks over to you. A strand of his dark hair hangs down in front of his face and his lips twitch into a slight smile for just a moment.

He grabs onto your shoulders, a white robe covering your bare body underneath.

"No need to be sorry for staring, y/n. After all, I know you can't help yourself," he comments teasingly and your face heats up.

"Hey, that is not true," you huff out as he slowly takes off your robe off your shoulder. The loose robe drops onto the ground, leaving you vulnerable and bare in front of Aizen.

Nothing he hasn't seen before, you remind yourself. Aizen scans over your body, admiring it and slightly smirking. You scoff, catching himself staring and you walk past him.

You step into the bath, one foot diving into the hot water. The tub is deep as the water goes up to your knee. Aizen undresses himself as you allow the hot water to swallow the rest of your body.

Your muscles instantly relax and you let out a pleasant sigh, eyelids closing. You relish in the hot water that seems to get all the kinks out from your sore body.

The loud splashing of the water causes you to open your eyes, curious. Aizen sinks down into the water, holding onto the sides of the tub to ease himself in, muscles throbbing and flexing as he does so.

"This is nice," you hum out. Aizen nods his head, inching closer to you and reaching out his hand. You lift your hand up from the water, grabbing onto his.

Aizen pulls you closer, eyes glancing down at your lips. He desires them so much. He loves the way your lips feel against his, they feel so right.

"You're staring," you notice, smiling.

Aizen lets out a deep chuckle that rumbles in his throat as his hand grasps onto your jaw. His fingers are slick and wet, but still firmly grabbing your face and bringing you closer.

His dark eyes gaze deeply into yours, making your heart skip a quick beat.

"Is that so?" he asks, voice deep and sending a chill down your spine.

You nod your head and Aizen dips his head down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. The kiss is soft, warm, and wet. The kiss is so perfect and loving.

You wrap your arms around his neck, wet bodies pressing together.

Your lips melt together, not getting enough of each other just quite yet. You open your lips slightly, allowing for Aizen to slide his tongue inside your mouth.

You groan into his mouth as his free hand grabs onto your waist, squeezing the flesh. You giggle against his lips as his fingers tickle your skin.

You slowly pull away, nose bushing against his. You grab onto the bar of soap sitting in the corner and dip it into the water. You lathe the soap into your hands and start scrubbing Aizen's shoulder.

"You do know that I can wash myself, right?" he pokes at you as your hands move down to his chest. You feel his pecs and nod your head, giggling.

"Oh, trust me, I do. You always do everything yourself though. I thought it would be nice if I took care of you," you suggest, moving over to his arms.

You feel every vein in his forearms and how his biceps are just natural big and muscular. Aizen huffs quietly, a chuckle hidden underneath his huff.

Aizen gazes at you, love filling his eyes. He never thought he could love someone like this nor did he think someone could ever care this much about him.

He hates to admit it, but it tugs on his heartstrings.

He grabs onto your arm and pulls you into his chest. Your back is pressed up against his chest and his arms are wrapped tightly around you.

"What's going on?" you ask, chuckling as he squeezes you tightly.

"Nothing just...thank you," he whispers into your ear, placing a sweet kiss behind your ear. You smile warmly, leaning back into Aizen's gentle touch.

Aizen holds you tightly, the most precious thing in the whole universe to him.

[novaursa]

Hi how are you doing? ☺️

Can you write a fem!targaryen x gwayne ( I love your fic on him 👉🏼👈🏼)

She’s the favorite children of Alicent, she was raised to believed in the seven and she’s very closed to aegon, she’s the only one who understand him.

When Her father wanted to marry her to Jace, Alicent see that as an insult coz he’s a bastard and decided to send her to Oldtown? And she started to become really close to her uncle Gwayne and when they come back to king’s landing people can see that they are too closed to be only niece and uncle.

But she denied everything (except Aegon because he’s okay with that nothing can shook him) and then she goes to pray in the sanctuary? Alicent and Otto are here to talk to her but like in a corner and they see Gwayne walking to her. Gwayne see them and decided to take her in front of them and the seven to make sure that they understand that she is his 👀

Of Gods and Blood

- Summary: Your mother, Alicent, sent you to Oldtown, to protect you from Rhaenyra's whims. Only for you to find comfort in your uncle’s arms.

- Pairing - niece!reader/Gwanye Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

- A/N: I had to change a little your plot near the end, to make the events more believe, both narrative and character wise.

You stand in the gardens of the Hightower, the sea breeze from the Whispering Sound tugging at the edges of your cloak. The sky is a soft hue of orange and pink, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient stones of Oldtown. The citadel bells ring in the distance, a sound that has become familiar in the months you’ve been here, far from the intrigues and dangers of King’s Landing. You draw in a breath, the salt air filling your lungs, yet your thoughts are not with the peace of the evening but with your brother, Aegon.

It is impossible not to miss him. From the time you were children, you were the only one who could reach him, the only one who could calm his tempestuous spirit. You understood him, even when others dismissed him as a drunkard or worse. You knew there was more to Aegon than his vices—there was a vulnerability, a deep-seated fear that he hid behind a facade of indifference and revelry. You were his confidante, the only one he trusted, the only one who could see the pain he masked with wine and women.

You wonder how he fares now, with you so far away. Does he still find solace in the bottom of a cup, or has he found some other way to numb the loneliness that gnaws at him? You worry, your heart aching with the absence of his presence, the way only a sibling can. You can picture him so clearly in your mind—his silver hair falling into his eyes, the way he would smirk when he was up to mischief, the rare moments when he would look at you with something close to gratitude. He never said it aloud, but you knew he appreciated you, perhaps even loved you in his own way.

But now you are here, in Oldtown, at the behest of your mother. You know why she sent you away, why she took her favorite child from the court. The memory of the conversation still haunts you, the way her face had paled when your father, King Viserys, had suggested you might be betrothed to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon. A match with the heir to Dragonstone would have been advantageous in the eyes of many, but not to your mother.

"Rhaenyra’s bastard," she had hissed when the two of you were alone. The horror in her voice was felt, as though the very idea of it sickened her. "I will not have you thrown to the wolves, not to her spawn. You are a trueborn daughter of House Targaryen, not some piece to be traded for peace."

You had not argued with her. How could you? She had always protected you, always made sure you were safe from the machinations of the court. And so, you had been sent to Oldtown, to the heart of House Hightower, where Rhaenyra’s reach could not extend, where you would be under the watchful eye of your uncle, Gwayne Hightower.

As if summoned by your thoughts, you hear the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching. You do not turn, not yet. Instead, you continue to gaze out over the water, allowing the moment to stretch out between you. When he reaches your side, he does not speak at first. The silence is comfortable, a sign of the ease that has developed between you.

“Do you miss it?” Gwayne finally asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“King’s Landing?” you reply, your tone contemplative. “At times. But it is more the people I miss than the place itself.”

“Aegon?” he guesses, and you nod.

“He’s reckless, foolish even,” you say, “but he’s my brother. I can’t help but worry for him.”

Gwayne’s hand brushes yours, a brief touch that sends a ripple of warmth through you. It’s not the first time his touch has lingered, but tonight it feels different—charged, somehow, with an emotion you dare not name.

“He’s strong in his own way,” Gwayne says, his voice reassuring. “He’ll endure, as we all must.”

You turn to look at him then, really look at him. His face is handsome, with the sharp features of the Hightower lineage, but there’s something more in his gaze tonight, something that makes your heart skip a beat. You see concern there, yes, but also something deeper, something that mirrors the turmoil in your own soul.

“And what of you, Uncle?” you ask softly. “Do you miss the court?”

His lips quirk into a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are some things I miss, but others… I think I prefer the peace of Oldtown.”

You realize then that he, too, is far from everything he knows, from the power and influence he once wielded in King’s Landing. Here, he is just another nobleman, albeit one with more authority than most. Perhaps that is why the two of you have grown so close in these months, both of you displaced, both of you adjusting to a life far removed from the one you were born into.

The breeze shifts, and you shiver slightly as the night begins to cool. Gwayne notices and, without a word, removes his cloak and drapes it over your shoulders. His hands linger on the fabric, his fingers brushing your skin. You feel a flush rise in your cheeks, your pulse quickening at the contact.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t step back, doesn’t create the distance that propriety would normally dictate. Instead, he remains close, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not just my niece,” he says, his voice rough, as though he’s struggling to find the right words. “You’re… you’re someone I care about. Deeply.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you are unsure how to respond. This is dangerous territory, you know, but the warmth in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you as though you are the only person in the world, makes it impossible to retreat.

“I care about you too, Gwayne,” you admit, your heart pounding in your chest. The truth of it hangs between you, heavy and undeniable.

His hand lifts, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin in a tender caress. “We can’t…,” he begins, but the words trail off, unfinished, as though he can’t bring himself to complete the thought.

You don’t know who moves first, whether it’s you or him, but suddenly the distance between you is gone, and his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though both of you are afraid of what this might mean, but then it deepens, becomes something more as you both give in to the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

When you finally pull back, you are breathless, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotion. You search his eyes, looking for any sign of regret, but all you see is the same longing that you feel.

“This…,” you start, but he silences you with another kiss, as though to say that words aren’t necessary, that whatever this is between you, it’s something that needs no explanation.In that moment, with the night closing in around you and the weight of your family’s legacy far behind, you allow yourself to feel something other than duty, something other than the constant pressure to be what everyone expects you to be.

You allow yourself to feel desire, and in Gwayne’s arms, you find a sense of belonging that you hadn’t realized you were missing until now.

The wind tugs at your hair as you ride through the streets of King’s Landing, the noise of the bustling city swirling around you. It has been so long since you’ve seen the Red Keep’s towering spires that the sight of them, rising in the distance, feels almost surreal. The journey from Oldtown has been long, but you’ve barely felt the weariness, not with Gwayne at your side.

You sit in front of him on his horse, his strong arms wrapped around you as he holds the reins. The warmth of his body pressed against yours is a comfort amidst the cold and chaos of the capital, a quiet reminder that even in the midst of war and uncertainty, you are not alone. You lean back slightly, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Gwayne notices, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “What’s that smile for, sweet niece?”

“Just thinking,” you reply, turning your head slightly so you can see him, “that I never imagined I’d return to King’s Landing like this.”

His expression softens as he looks down at you, one hand leaving the reins to brush a strand of silver hair from your face. “It’s a different city now, I think. The shadows feel longer, the tension thicker.”

You nod, your gaze shifting back to the streets. The people watch you as you pass, their eyes curious, some wary. You’re not sure if they recognize you or if they’re merely fascinated by the arrival of the Hightower forces, but there’s a murmur that follows you, whispers passing from one mouth to another like the wind.

The Hightower banners flap in the breeze, their green and white coloring stark against the duller hues of the capital. Soldiers march behind you, the sound of their armor clinking in rhythm with the horse’s hooves. There’s a grimness to it all, an unspoken acknowledgment of the battles that lie ahead. But it’s the whispers, the way people’s eyes linger on you and Gwayne, that you notice most.

You can almost hear what they’re saying—speculation and gossip about the nature of your relationship with your uncle. In Oldtown, the walls of the Hightower had protected you from such talk, but here, in the crowded streets of King’s Landing, there is no hiding from the scrutiny of the court and the common folk alike.

“Princess,” you hear someone mutter as you pass. “And her uncle?”

Another voice, this one sharp with curiosity, follows. “Isn’t she King Aegon’s sister? What’s she doing on his horse?”

You glance up at Gwayne, who seems to have noticed the murmurs as well. His jaw is tight, his grip on the reins just a bit firmer than before. It’s not anger you see in him, but something more protective, as though he’s ready to defend you against any slight, no matter how small.

“Let them talk,” you say softly, reaching up to place your hand over his. “It doesn’t matter.”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it’s as though the world around you fades, leaving just the two of you. “It doesn’t,” he agrees, his voice low but firm. “But I hate that they’re looking at you like that, as if they have any right to judge.”

You squeeze his hand, a silent reassurance that you are not afraid of the whispers. In truth, a part of you is almost defiant, as if daring them to say more, to challenge what you’ve found with Gwayne. You’ve spent so much of your life doing what others expected, living up to the roles assigned to you. Now, for the first time, you’re following your own heart, no matter where it leads.

The Red Keep looms ahead, its stone walls imposing as ever. You can already feel the weight of the court’s eyes, the inevitable judgment that will come once you pass through those gates. The memory of your last days here comes back to you—your mother’s frantic insistence that you leave, the way she’d spoken of Rhaenyra’s children with such disgust. You wonder how she’ll react when she sees you with Gwayne, when she hears the whispers that have already begun to spread like wildfire through the city.

As you approach the entrance to the Keep, you feel Gwayne’s arm tighten around you, a silent promise of support. “We’ll face them as one,” he murmurs, and you know he means it.

The gates open before you, the sounds of the city fading as you enter the courtyard. The Hightower soldiers fan out, their disciplined ranks a stark contrast to the chaos of the streets outside. You dismount, Gwayne’s hand steadying you as you step onto the cobblestones. He’s at your side the moment your feet touch the ground, his presence a reassuring constant.

A group of courtiers is already gathering, their eyes wide with surprise and curiosity. You recognize a few of them—faces that once looked upon you with respect or envy. Now, their gazes are harder to read, filled with questions they dare not voice aloud.

You hear a soft gasp from the crowd as you take Gwayne’s arm, a gesture that would have seemed perfectly innocent were it not for the intimacy in the way your fingers linger on his sleeve. The whispers start again, a low hum that grows louder as more people filter into the courtyard.

“Isn’t that the Dowager Queen’s daughter?”

“They say she’s been in Oldtown for months. Why has she returned now?”

“Look at the way she’s holding on to him. There’s something more between them, I’d wager.”

You lift your chin, meeting their stares with a calm you don’t entirely feel. Beside you, Gwayne is the picture of composure, his expression revealing nothing of the emotions that must be roiling within him.

A familiar figure emerges from the entrance to the Keep—your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent. She looks regal as ever, her face composed, though you notice the slight furrow of her brow as she takes in the sight of you with Gwayne. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes—relief, perhaps, at seeing you again, but also concern, as though she already suspects what the whispers are saying.

“Mother,” you greet her as you step forward, releasing Gwayne’s arm with a reluctant sense of propriety. 

“Daughter,” she replies, her voice cool but tinged with warmth. Her gaze flickers to Gwayne, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I did not expect to see you return with your uncle.”

“I wished to be with my family,” you say simply, your tone carefully measured.

Alicent’s eyes search yours, looking for something you’re not ready to reveal. “And you’ve chosen to return at a time of great unrest,” she observes, her voice soft enough that only you and Gwayne can hear. “But I’m glad you are here, truly.”

She doesn’t say more, but you know there will be questions later, in the privacy of her chambers, where she’ll expect answers about your time in Oldtown and what, exactly, has brought you back to King’s Landing now. But for now, she extends her hand to you, a gesture of welcome.

As you take it, you feel the eyes of the court upon you, feel the tension that thrums beneath the surface. Gwayne steps back, just slightly, as though to give you space, but you can still feel the warmth of his presence beside you. It’s a comfort, even as the whispers continue, the court already weaving their tales about the Princess and her uncle.

But you don’t let it bother you. Let them talk, you think, because no matter what they say, no matter the rumors that will no doubt spread, you know where you stand. You know what you’ve found with Gwayne, and you are not ashamed.

Together, you and your uncle follow the Dowager Queen into the Red Keep, the heavy doors closing behind you with a resounding thud. The halls are as grand as you remember, yet somehow smaller, as if the world beyond them has grown larger in your absence.

The whispers will follow you here, you know, but as you walk beside Gwayne, you feel a sense of resolve settle over you. You’ve returned to a city at war, to a family divided, but you are not the same girl who left. You’ve found strength in yourself, and in Gwayne, and you are ready to face whatever comes next.

The council chamber is dimly lit, the tall windows shielded by thick curtains that block out the midday sun. A fire burns low in the hearth, but the air is cold, heavy with the tension that seems to permeate every corner of the Red Keep these days. Alicent Hightower stands by the window, her hands clasped tightly together, her gaze distant as she stares out over the city. The rumors have reached her ears—whispers of impropriety, of a scandal that could bring ruin upon the family she has fought so hard to protect.

Behind her, Otto Hightower paces, his face a mask of calculated concern. The Hand of the King is rarely rattled, but the news has clearly unsettled him. His normally shrewd eyes are narrowed, his thoughts racing as he contemplates the implications of what he’s heard.

“I do not believe it,” Alicent says finally, her voice strained but firm. “She is my daughter, Father. She would not… she could not be so reckless.”

Otto stops his pacing, turning to face his daughter. “The court is filled with idle tongues, Alicent. But where there is smoke, there is often fire. We cannot afford to ignore this.”

Before Alicent can respond, the door to the chamber swings open, and Aegon saunters in, his tunic half-laced, a goblet of wine already in hand despite the early hour. He looks as though he’s just risen from bed, his silver hair tousled, his expression one of lazy amusement.

“Mother, Grandsire,” he greets them, his tone light, almost mocking. He takes a long sip from his goblet before sprawling into a chair by the fire, stretching out as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

Alicent’s lips thin as she looks at her eldest son, but it’s Otto who speaks first. “Aegon,” he says sharply, “this is no time for your usual games. Have you heard the rumors?”

Aegon raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “About my sweet sister and our dear uncle? Of course I have. Everyone’s talking about it. I’m surprised it took this long for you two to catch on.”

Alicent flinches at his words, her face paling. “Aegon, please,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “You must tell us the truth. Is there any merit to these rumors? Has your sister…?”

Aegon laughs, a low, careless sound that grates on both Alicent’s and Otto’s nerves. “Oh, it’s true, Mother. They’re quite the pair, those two. Didn’t you notice how close they were when they arrived? Or were you too busy trying to figure out how to win this blasted war?”

Otto steps forward, his voice cold as ice. “And how would you know this, Aegon? What proof do you have?”

Aegon looks up at his grandfather, his smirk widening. “Because I’ve been in contact with her, of course. My sweet sister’s been writing to me. She’s quite… explicit in her letters.”

The color drains from Alicent’s face, and she sways slightly, as if the very ground beneath her has shifted. “No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “No, she wouldn’t…”

Aegon shrugs, taking another sip of his wine, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing. “Believe what you will, Mother, but you’ve always known she was different. Maybe that’s why you sent her away in the first place, hmm? To keep her from the likes of Jacaerys, but also to keep her away from prying eyes. But now she’s back, and well… it seems she’s found comfort in Uncle Gwayne.”

Alicent stares at her son, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought of her daughter—the one she has always favored, the one she has tried to protect above all others—being involved in something so scandalous is too much to bear.

“Aegon,” Otto says, his tone warning, “this is no laughing matter. This could destroy our house’s reputation, especially now when we can afford no more divisions. You must be mistaken.”

Aegon leans back in his chair, looking at the two of them with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “You two really need to relax. So what if they’re lovers? We’ve got bigger problems to deal with than who’s warming whose bed. Besides, isn’t that what you wanted? For her to stay loyal to the family? At least she’s with one of our own and not off consorting with the enemy.”

Alicent presses a hand to her temple, trying to steady herself. She cannot allow herself to believe this—she must speak with her daughter, must hear the truth from her own lips. But the thought of that conversation, of what it might reveal, fills her with dread.

Otto, on the other hand, is already thinking ahead, his mind racing through the potential consequences. “This cannot be allowed to continue,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else. “We must act quickly, quietly, before the situation escalates. We need to speak with her.”

Aegon lets out a derisive snort, raising his goblet in a mocking toast. “Good luck with that. She’s always been headstrong, you know. But by all means, go ahead. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to have a little chat about her personal life with you two.”

Alicent and Otto exchange a look, both of them realizing the gravity of the situation. They must tread carefully, for the sake of their family and their house, but they cannot ignore what is happening. 

Aegon watches them, a sly smile playing on his lips as he lounges in his chair, utterly undisturbed by the storm he’s just unleashed. “Good luck,” he says again, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re going to need it.”

As he takes another leisurely sip of his wine, Alicent turns away, her mind already on the difficult conversation that lies ahead, while Otto considers the best approach to take with his granddaughter. They know that whatever happens next, it will not be easy.

And Aegon? He simply reclines in his chair, pleased to have stirred the pot, content to watch the drama unfold around him, utterly unconcerned by the turmoil he’s just caused.

The Sept is quiet, the flickering candles casting a soft glow over the statues of the Seven. You kneel before the Mother, your hands clasped tightly together as you pray for guidance, for strength. The silence of the sacred space surrounds you, offering a moment of peace amid the turmoil that has settled over your life since returning to King’s Landing. The scent of incense lingers in the air, and you inhale deeply, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

You pray for your family, for the war that looms on the horizon, for the safety of those you love. But most of all, you pray for clarity—clarity about your feelings for Gwayne, about the path you should take now that everything has become so complicated. The Sept has always been a place of solace for you, a place where you could find peace in the embrace of the gods, but today, your mind refuses to settle.

The sound of footsteps echoes in the empty space, and you open your eyes, turning slightly to see Gwayne approaching. His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark and intent as he strides toward you. There is something about his presence that makes your heart race, something that makes you forget the sanctity of the place where you kneel.

“Gwayne,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “What are you doing here?”He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. “I came to make a statement,” he says, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

“A statement?” you repeat, confusion swirling in your mind. “To the gods?”

His lips curve into a slow, deliberate smile. “To the gods,” he murmurs, “and to anyone else who might doubt where you belong.”

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. You gasp against his mouth, but the sound is swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. His hands move to your shoulders, pulling you up from your kneeling position so that you are standing before him. The softness of your prayers is forgotten, replaced by the heat that surges between you.

“Gwayne,” you manage to murmur between kisses, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and confusion. “What are you doing?”

His response is a low growl as his lips move down your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “I’m making a statement,” he says again, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m showing the gods, and anyone else who might doubt it, that you are mine.”

The words send a thrill through you, a heady mixture of fear and desire. There is no hesitation in his actions, no sign of doubt. He pulls you closer, his hands moving to the ties of your dress, fingers deftly undoing them as he kisses you deeply, passionately.

You feel the cool air against your skin as your dress falls away, leaving you bare before him. Gwayne’s eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of you, and then his mouth is on yours again, hungry and demanding. You respond with equal fervor, your hands working at the fastenings of his tunic, needing to feel his skin against yours, to lose yourself in him.

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he presses you against one of the stone pillars of the Sept. The sensation of his body against yours, the way he holds you as though you are the most precious thing in the world, drives all rational thought from your mind. There is only him, only the fire that burns between you.

When he enters you, it is swift, his movements driven by a need so powerful it leaves you breathless. You moan softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you cling to him, the sensation of him filling you overwhelming and utterly intoxicating. Gwayne sets a fast, demanding rhythm, his thrusts deep and sure, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, mingling with your own breathless gasps as you lose yourself in the feeling of him inside you. There is something almost sacred in the way he moves, something that speaks of more than just physical desire. It is a claiming, a vow, as if with every thrust he is binding you to him in a way that goes beyond mere flesh.

Your climax builds quickly, the intensity of your passion driving you both to the edge. You can feel him trembling against you, the tension in his body a mirror of your own. And then, with a final, shuddering thrust, you both find release, your cries mingling with his in the silence of the Sept.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing, the two of you still joined, still lost in the aftermath of your passion. But then you hear it—the sharp intake of breath, the horrified gasp that shatters the silence.

You turn your head, your heart plummeting as you see them standing at the entrance to the Sept: your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, and your grandsire, Otto Hightower. Their faces are pale with shock, their eyes wide as they take in the sight of you and Gwayne, still joined, still locked in the aftermath of your lovemaking.

Gwayne doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch or try to separate from you. Instead, he turns his head to meet their gaze, his expression calm, almost defiant. He holds you even closer, his grip on your waist tightening as if to say that he will not be ashamed, that he will not hide what has just happened.

Alicent’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears as she takes a step back, unable to process what she’s seeing. Otto’s face is a mask of cold fury, his eyes narrowing as he looks between you and Gwayne, understanding dawning in his gaze.

You realize, in that moment, that this was Gwayne’s intention all along. He didn’t come to the Sept for the gods. He came here to make a statement, to show your family, the court, and even the gods themselves that you belong to him, and that he will not allow anyone to take you from him.

The weight of that realization settles over you, but it is not fear that you feel. Instead, it is a strange sense of certainty, a feeling that despite the scandal, despite the consequences that are sure to follow, you are exactly where you are meant to be.

Gwayne’s eyes meet yours, and there is a question there, a silent inquiry if you regret this, if you wish to be released. But you shake your head, your own resolve hardening. You lift your chin, your gaze steady as you look at your mother, at your grandsire.

Alicent takes another step back, her voice trembling as she whispers, “What have you done?”

But you do not answer. Gwayne is still inside you, still holding you close, and you know that whatever happens next, whatever judgment they pass, it will not change what you feel, what you have chosen.

Otto’s voice is cold as ice when he finally speaks. “This will have consequences,” he says, his tone filled with a warning that sends a chill down your spine. “You have made a grave mistake.”

Gwayne’s grip on you tightens just slightly, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “The only mistake,” he says quietly, “would have been letting her go.”

Alicent turns away, unable to bear the sight any longer, her hand still pressed to her mouth to stifle her sobs. Otto stares at you both for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally turns to leave, his cloak swirling around him as he exits the Sept, leaving you and Gwayne alone once more.

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with the weight of what has just transpired. But as Gwayne gently lowers you back to the ground, as he pulls you close, his breath warm against your ear, you feel a strange sense of peace.

“I am yours,” you whisper, and he nods, his lips brushing against your temple.

“And I am yours,” he replies, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

And with that, you know that whatever comes next, whatever trials you may face, you will face them together. For Gwayne has made his statement—to the gods, to your family, and to you. You are his, and he is yours, and no force in this world or the next will tear you apart.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: can you do one where their sister gets all wigged out at some guy being creepy and handsy with her at the bar and she freezes and doesn’t fight back and then it’s haunting her how she was just frozen and she makes either Sam and Dean fight her so she can be ready next time but it just sends her into a panic.

A/N: This was a really great request. I hope I wrote it the way you were wanting! Requests are always open. Also I would really appreciate feedback so it helps me with writing my other stories! Thanks everyone:)))

Warnings: Sexual harassment/Assault

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

The night was supposed to be a moment of relief, a fleeting break from the weight of your life as a hunter. After a brutal week of long hunts and narrow escapes, the three of you—Sam, Dean, and you—found yourselves at a dimly lit bar in a sleepy town, trying to enjoy a rare moment of normalcy. You were laughing, joking, letting the clinking of glasses and low hum of conversations drown out the fear that usually hovered in the back of your mind.

But then he showed up.

It started subtly. The man—slightly older, disheveled, his eyes too glazed with alcohol—leaned in a little too close. His words were slurred, his breath rank with whiskey. You smiled politely, leaning away as he stood just a little too near, but you didn’t think much of it at first. You were used to the occasional awkward encounter. But then, as you stood to move past him, his hand brushed against the small of your back.

It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate.

You froze.

His hand lingered for just a moment too long, then slid down a fraction, pressing lightly against your hip. Your body went stiff, the shock of it paralyzing you. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to tell him to back off, but the words got stuck in your throat. The touch felt too foreign, too invasive. The very presence of him, towering too close behind you, crushed you in a way no monster ever had. It wasn’t the instinctive survival response you had when facing down a creature or a supernatural threat. This was something else entirely. This was vulnerability. This was a reminder that sometimes, even the strongest hunters could be caught off guard. You were cornered by something that wasn’t a demon, wasn’t a creature of the night. It was just a man. A man who was now way too close, his hands way too forward, and you couldn’t breathe.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the creep murmured, his voice smooth but predatory. He took another step forward, his fingers tracing even lower on you. “You look like you need some company. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?”

Alone.

Your chest tightened at the word. Your heart raced, each beat harder than the last, and your body went cold. You couldn’t get away. You wanted to scream, to shout, to fight, but nothing came. You couldn’t even turn around. It was like your body had betrayed you, locking you in place, unable to move, unable to react.

You glanced over his shoulder. Sam and Dean were across the bar, still chatting, but your hands were trembling now, a quiet desperation crawling through you. You tried to make eye contact with Dean, praying he’d see something in your eyes. Something that would tell him something was wrong, something that wasn’t right, something that would make him come over here.

And that’s when it happened.

Your eyes found Dean’s, and everything else fell away. He was laughing, his face lit with that same infectious grin, but when his gaze locked with yours, that smile faltered. The laughter died in his throat. For a split second, his eyes darted from your frozen form back to the hand that was somewhere it shouldn’t have been, violating you. There was no mistaking the look in your eyes—the silent scream for help that you couldn’t make with your voice.

Dean’s body tensed instantly, his protective instincts kicking in faster than you could blink. He didn’t even need a second to process what was happening. His eyes turned hard, darkening with a familiar, dangerous intensity.

“What the fuck.” He growled.

Sam’s head snapped up at the sound of Dean’s voice, his posture shifting into a protective stance as he looked over toward you and then Dean was already halfway there.

Before you could even comprehend the sudden rush of movement, Dean was there, a force of nature, his hand wrapping around the man’s collar and yanking him away from you. He slammed the guy back into a nearby table with a resounding crash, his fist connecting with the guy’s jaw with a force that sent him stumbling.

The man grunted, disoriented, but before he could recover, Sam was already next to you, his arms strong and warm as he ushered you away from the scene. His eyes were filled with concern, but there was no time to ask questions, no time to process what had just happened.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked softly, but there was a subtle edge of panic in his voice as he scanned your face.

You couldn’t answer him. The words were stuck. Your breath came in shallow, gasping bursts as the overwhelming weight of what had just happened hit you. You had been so helpless. The shame twisted in your gut, mixing with the adrenaline that still had your heart hammering in your chest.

Dean stepped back towards the both of you, wiping his knuckles, his expression tight. He looked at you for a long moment before kneeling down to your level. “Y/N,” he said gently, his voice low but fierce. “Are you hurt?”

It took a few seconds for you to even gather the strength to speak, but when you did, your voice was barely a whisper. “I... I couldn’t... I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop him. I froze.”

The words came out in a choked sob, and Sam’s hand squeezed your shoulder, trying to ground you, trying to make you feel safe again. But the truth was, you didn’t feel safe. You felt exposed, humiliated, and terrified. You had spent your whole life fighting supernatural monsters—things that would rip you apart if you gave them half a chance—but this? This was something else.

Dean stood, looking at the man on the floor with a growl.

“I’ll fucking kill you! You son of a bitch!” As he lunged forward, Sam caught his arm, stopping him.

“We need to get her out of here, Dean. She’s shaking—she’s in shock,” Sam said, his voice strained. His gaze shifted to you, and his heart clenched at the fear written across your face. Dean’s eyes softened, the anger fading as he took in your terrified expression, replaced by an overwhelming concern. He nodded, his protective instincts kicking in.

Without another word, they moved toward you, both intent on getting you out of harm's way.

“You’re safe, Y/N. You hear me?” He said firmly. “We’ve got you. We’ve always got you.”

But you couldn’t shake it. The helplessness. The terror of being caught off guard like that, unable to move, to react, to protect yourself when you needed it most. The fear didn’t fade just because your brothers saved you. It stayed with you, lurking in the background, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

As you left the bar with Sam and Dean, you felt the weight of that fear creeping in with every step. You couldn’t stop the thoughts from swirling around in your head. What if it happens again? What if you froze again, what if next time no one was there to stop it?

The drive back to the bunker was silent, the tension thick. You sat in the backseat, staring out the window, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside you. Sam kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror, but you didn’t want to talk. You couldn’t. Not yet.

Dean was silent too, his hands gripping the wheel a little too tight, his jaw clenched as he focused on the road. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that he was just as shaken as you were. He had seen that fear in your eyes. The one that had screamed for help but couldn’t get a single sound to come out.

When you got back to the bunker, you immediately went to your room, not wanting to face them, not wanting to face yourself. You needed time. Time to process everything. Time to breathe.

But the panic was still there, gnawing at you, even as the adrenaline wore off. You kept seeing his face, kept feeling his hand on you, the touch that made you feel trapped.

And for the next few days the memory of being completely frozen in the face of danger haunted you like a persistent shadow. You had faced monsters—ghouls, wraiths, creatures from hell, demons straight from the deepest pits. You'd been through hell and back, each time emerging battered but standing. But this—this was different. A man’s touch—unwanted, invasive—had completely paralyzed you. You’d never felt so small, so helpless, as you did in those seconds. The touch that made your skin crawl, the pressure of him moving closer, it had sent you into a panic you couldn’t escape from. You could have fought him, could have defended yourself—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your body refused to move, frozen in terror as if your instincts had completely betrayed you.

That wasn’t you. That wasn’t who you were, and the thought of it gnawed at you constantly, dragging you into a spiral of frustration. How could you have been so weak? How could you have faced hellish creatures but not some creep? Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel the man’s hands on you, the fear that shut you down completely. It ate away at you, an itch under your skin you couldn’t scratch. You needed to fix it, needed to make sure it never happened again.

The bunker was eerily quiet when you stumbled into the library. The faint smell of old books and polished wood filled your nose, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the searing anxiety still clawing at your chest. You turned the corner to find that Sam and Dean were seated at the large table, hunched over a case file.

They didn’t need to see your face to know something was wrong. The way you walked—shoulders hunched, head down, eyes wild—spoke volumes before you even opened your mouth.

Dean’s eyes immediately snapped to you, his expression faltering as he registered the distress in your posture. “Hey, you okay?” His voice was softer than usual, concerned, but it didn’t quite reach the depth of panic you could feel in his gaze.

Sam’s brows furrowed in concern, and he stood up from his seat, eyes scanning you with an intensity that made your insides twist.

“Hey,” Sam said gently, walking toward you. “What’s going on?”

Your throat closed, the words struggling to form as the weight of everything that had happened at the bar came crashing back. The sensation of the creep’s hand on you, the way your body had refused to move, the helplessness, the terror—it felt like a cloud, dark and suffocating.

“I need one of you to fight me,” you choked out, your voice shaking with desperation. The words felt wrong as they left your lips, like something deep inside you was rebelling against them, but you couldn’t stop it.

Both of your brothers froze.

Dean’s face darkened with concern, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, fight you?” He asked, voice careful, as though he were testing the waters, trying to understand if you were truly asking what he thought you were asking.

“I need one of you to wrestle me. To fight me,” you repeated, your words now coming out more urgently. “I have to know that I won’t freeze again. I need to be able to fight. I need to know I can protect myself.”

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, his brow furrowed in concern, the air between them thick with hesitation and concern. Sam opened his mouth as if to protest, but you cut him off before he could say anything.

“I have to do this, okay? You don’t understand, I can’t freeze like that again. I need to see if I can fight someone off when I’m vulnerable, like that creep at the bar. Please…” Your voice broke, desperation seeping through the cracks, and you took a step closer to them, your eyes wide, pleading.

“Y/N…” Sam’s voice was soft but steady, the concern in his eyes clear. “This isn’t the way, okay? We know you’re strong, but—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head violently. “You don’t understand. You don’t understand how I felt, how frozen I felt. I couldn’t do anything. I can’t just let that happen again. Please.” Your voice cracked, and you could feel your whole body trembling, but you pushed through it, forcing yourself to stay steady, to make them understand. “One of you has to do this. I need to know I’m not just… helpless. Please.”

Dean swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. He was visibly uncomfortable with the idea. The last thing he wanted was to physically overpower you, especially after what had just happened. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

“Y/N, you’re not helpless. You’re strong, you’re so strong.” Dean said gently, though the words sounded strained. “You’ve been through hell and back, you’ve taken down monsters, demons, things worse than this. You’ve survived everything that’s come your way, okay? This doesn’t—this isn’t something you need to prove.”

Sam nodded, stepping closer and placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Dean’s right. We know what you’re capable of. This, uh, this isn’t the way to work through it.”

But you couldn’t hear them. The terror, the shame, the panic all mixed together until it overwhelmed every thought in your head. You couldn’t keep sitting in this fear, this paralyzing uncertainty. You needed to do something.

“I need this,” you begged, voice raw and trembling. “Please. One of you has to fight me, so I know I can fight someone off. I have to know I won’t freeze again. Dean…Please”

Dean looked at Sam, then back at you. His discomfort was clear—this wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to do, especially after what you’d just been through. He was much bigger than you, stronger, and he wasn’t sure how that was going to go. The thought of seeing you trapped under him, unable to escape, unsettled him. But the look in your eyes, the quiet desperation behind your words, broke him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Dean sighed deeply. “Alright,” he agreed, softly. “But we do this my way. We don’t go too hard, and we don’t go too far, okay? This is for you to work through your fear, not for you to end up more scared.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. But please, Dean. Do it like a real fight. I need it to feel real.”

Dean hesitated, looking down at his hands, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of pinning you down after everything that had just happened. Sam stood off to the side, his expression one of concern mixed with reluctant understanding, knowing that you needed this—however uncomfortable it was for all of you.

“Alright,” Sam said softly. “Stay focused. You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to gather the pieces of your resolve that had been shattered at the bar.

Dean stepped forward, positioning himself in front of you, his posture tense. You squared off with him, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest, the knot of dread in your stomach.

“Ready?” Dean asked, his voice softer now, like he was trying to give you the chance to back out.

“I’m ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean hesitated, and for a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to go through with it. But then, seeing the intense look in your eyes—the look of a person who had to prove to themselves that they were still capable of protecting themselves—he nodded.

Without warning, Dean lunged at you.

You dodged, twisting your body to the side, but his hands were faster, stronger. He grabbed you by the wrists, pulling you into his chest with surprising force. You twisted and kicked, struggling, but Dean’s grip was unrelenting. And for a moment, you thought maybe you could break free. You kicked him, punched at his arm, wriggled with every ounce of strength you had. But Dean’s grip only tightened, and in a matter of seconds, he had you pinned to the floor. His body was heavy on top of yours, holding you down firmly but not aggressively—yet the weight of him was overwhelming.

And that’s when the panic hit.

“You have to use your weight, shift your body. Get out of this.” Dean said.

You tried to twist again, but the force of his body was like a mountain against yours. You could feel your legs being pushed down as he shifted to get a better hold on you. Your breathing quickened. No, don’t panic. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze.

Dean’s arms wrapped around you as he twisted you into a pin. You fought, squirmed, your mind spinning. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. He wasn’t even using all his strength, but it didn’t matter. The panic started to crawl up your throat.

“Breathe, Y/N,” Sam’s voice came gently from the sidelines. “You can do this. Focus. Use your legs. Use your hips.”

But you couldn’t focus. Your chest constricted, the panic spiraling as you felt the weight of Dean pinning you down. It wasn’t just him—it was the feeling of being trapped, of being unable to move.

“I can’t—” you gasped.

Dean’s grip loosened slightly, his voice softened. “Y/N, you’re alright. You’re safe. Focus on your breathing. Breathe through it, okay?”

But it was hard to breathe. You could feel the walls of your panic closing in. You were stuck. You couldn’t move. Your mind was racing back to that moment in the bar, when you couldn’t do anything. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze.

“I can’t—I can’t get out,” you whispered, “I can’t move… I can’t…”

“Hey,” Dean said softly, his voice more comforting now. You couldn’t breathe. The air felt thick, suffocating, and your heart raced uncontrollably in your chest. The cold, sharp terror of being trapped—the same terror you felt in the bar—came rushing back with a vengeance. He saw the terror in your eyes, he saw the panic in your body language, but he knew you were determined to fight through it. “You’re not trapped. It’s just a hold. Do you need me to stop?”

“I…I can’t,” you gasped, your voice full of panic. You slapped at his chest, tried to push him off, but you couldn’t move. You were completely stuck.

“Breathe, Y/N. You’re okay. You’re alright,” Dean said, his voice steady, but you could hear the concern in his tone. He eased his grip on you slightly, but it didn’t matter. You were trapped. You couldn’t move. The air felt so thin.

Your body shook with terror, panic flooding your chest as you twisted and turned, desperately trying to escape. Your limbs felt heavy, useless, and your breaths were coming too fast—too shallow.

“No!” you gasped. “I—I can’t!”

“Y/N, listen to me,” Sam said, his voice calm and steady from his spot off to the side. “Breathe in through your nose. Slowly. In and out. Don’t focus on the panic.”

You tried to listen, but the fear was too much. You couldn’t stop the rising tide of panic, couldn’t stop the feeling of helplessness as Dean’s weight pinned you down. The fear that you couldn’t fight him off… What if I can’t fight anyone off? What if it happens again?

You slapped at his chest again, frantically, tears starting to fall, your breath coming in sobs.

“I… I can’t… No!” You couldn’t catch your breath. You couldn’t stop the terror from consuming you.

Sam was already there, stepping in, his voice calm but urgent. “Dean, stop. She’s panicking. Stop.”

“Please, get off me!" Your voice was raw, frantic, and it tore at Dean’s heart. The sheer panic in your eyes hit him like a freight train, and he immediately pulled back, though his face softened with deep concern. He saw the terror in you, felt it in the way you trembled.

“Okay, okay,” he murmured, his voice low and tight with emotion. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re alright.” His hands hovered, trembling slightly as he met your gaze, silently pleading with you to trust him. “I’m letting go now, okay?”

Slowly, cautiously, Dean released his grip, watching you closely as he allowed you to sit up. His heart ached when you didn’t immediately move, still shaking uncontrollably, your body stiff with fear. You looked fragile, like you might break at any moment, and it made his chest tighten.

Without thinking, you reached out, gripping his arm with desperate hands, as if the world around you had collapsed and he was the only thing holding you together. Your fingers trembled against his skin, and he could feel the pulse of your fear coursing through your touch.

“Hey, hey… You’re safe,” Dean said softly, but his voice was thick with emotion, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw the tears brimming in your eyes, the overwhelming sorrow breaking free.

The words came like a vow, but his arms moved before his mind could even process it. He pulled you gently against his chest, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace, as if he could shield you from the world and all the horrors it had thrown your way. Your sobs tore through the air, ragged and broken, and Dean’s chest tightened, his own breath unsteady with the intensity of your grief.

“Shhh…” he whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, his voice soft but unwavering. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I promise.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his hand running through your hair in slow, soothing strokes. Every sob you let out shattered his heart a little more, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. He only held you tighter, murmuring quietly in between each tearful breath of yours, “You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. I’m here. I’m right here.”

“I couldn’t stop you," you whispered, voice trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. "I…I couldn’t f—fight you off. What if… what if that happens again? What if I c—can’t protect myself when I n—need to?" You sobbed.

Dean’s heart clenched at the sound of your voice, filled with self-doubt and anguish.

Before he could speak, Sam’s voice broke through, warm and steady, as he knelt in front of you. His hands, strong but gentle, settled on your arm. "Hey," he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours, "You’ve always got something with you—your gun, your knife. And even if you don’t have anything... if you’re caught off guard, if you don’t have anything on you—we’ve got you. You’re never alone in this, Y/N."

The words felt like they should have been a comfort, but the fear still gnawed at you, and it didn’t feel like enough. Not yet.

Dean’s hand continued to move in those small circles on your back, his touch warm, grounding. His voice was quiet but fierce, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “We’re not gonna let anything happen to you," he murmured. "We’ll always be here for you, no matter what. We’ll train you, we’ll help you work through it. You’re not alone, Y/N. You hear me?”

You nodded, unable to speak, the tears continuing to fall as the weight of everything washed over you. The feeling of being broken, of being utterly helpless, still lingered—but hearing them, seeing the sincerity in their eyes, made something inside you crack open, just a little bit.

The sobs that had been building broke free again, more violent now, but with them came a fragile comfort, something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in what felt like forever. Dean didn’t hesitate. Without another word, he pulled you tighter into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly as you sobbed into him.

He held you with a quiet intensity, his warmth enveloping you, his steady heartbeat grounding you. Sam sat beside you, his presence a silent reassurance that they were there. Together, they were there.

“You’ll be okay,” Sam said again, his voice a soft promise. “We’re gonna help you get through this.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

Dean whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re strong, kid. You’re gonna get through this. But for right now, you’re safe. You hear me? Safe.”

You nodded again, the fear still present, but somehow, just a little less suffocating. Maybe, just maybe, knowing they were there, that you didn’t have to face this on your own, was enough for now. Enough to let the weight of the world rest, even if just for a moment.

[thewitchblue]

"What's that?"

You asked Terry one day. He fell asleep during art class, and you wanted to know what he was drawing. He startled awake when you placed a timid hand on his arm.

Terry blinked at you, bleary-eyed before looking back down at his novel. He moves his arms to guard it more from your gaze once your words are registered in his exhausted brain. He awkwardly said,

"My, uh... it's probably stupid. I'm making a graphic novel."

He was oddly protective of his work, but your kind smile and curious gaze made him feel like he could trust you. You looked so warm and open to either seeing his work or walking away if he said no. There was something special in the look you gave him. It was a benevolent gaze that welcomed him in when everyone else shoved him away.

With great hesitation, he slides the chapter he was working on for you to read. He tapped his pen on his desk nervously. He suddenly felt empty-handed and vulnerable.

He was anxiously watching your expression as you read his work. He's never... shown off his work before. He always felt like it was lame to continue a project he's been working on on-and-off for years. He's never had a desire to share his novel. It was still in the works and had a long way to go.

He felt himself physically relax when you gave him back his novel. He felt as if he had just opened his heart to you and prayed you didn't stab it. This project has years' worth of thoughts and ideas. He had question marks and scribbled ideas in every corner of every page he has worked on so far.

Every time he had an idea of the direction he wanted to take the novel in, it was scribbled down along the sides or in the corners of the pages in his scratchy handwriting. It felt childish to look at now that he really took a look. He cringed and immediately tucked it away into the folder he had it placed in.

"I'm impressed, Terry. You'll have to send me a copy when you release it."

Your kind words made a part of him melt. It gave him the courage to continue. He bit his lip as his eyes returned back to his novel. It was still a series of loose sketches and not anywhere close to finished, but he appreciated the kind words.

You always were the kind kid with a soft voice and gentle hands. Your encouragement stirred something in him. He couldn't believe nobody has dated you yet. He's kept tabs on you for as long as he's known you. You with the gentle smile and the heart of gold. You, who never has a bad thing to say about anyone. You, who loved your friends and family with your entire heart and soul.

Before you could walk away, he awkwardly took your hand to stop you. Now that he thought about it, this was probably a terrible idea.

"I, uh, I... would you like to go out some time?"

He felt awkward. He can bully the Joker into submission, but a beautiful pair of doe eyes has him buckling? He feels pathetic, truly, with how nervous he felt, but he always had a thing for you that he never knew how to explain.

You looked surprised. Terry isn't known for relationships, especially not serious ones that you were seeking. Your eyes softened, however, as you looked at your conjoined hands before turning back to face Terry.

He's normally the bad kid; the kid teachers hate and the class legend, full of sass and always ready to pick a fight, but this Terry was... different. He wasn't guarded. He seemed so shy under all the sassy armour. He was adorable as he carefully watched your expression for any hint of what you may be thinking about.

You lightly squeezed his hand and smiled warmly at Terry. His blue eyes looked at you with such raw emotion that there was only one decision.

"Yes. You can tell me more about your novel, McGinnis."

You scribble a time and location for the date onto a slip of paper and hand it to him with a sweet smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow, pretty boy."

He looked like he suddenly realised he managed to get a date with you, and he was a blushing mess. You kissed his cheek before walking off. This may be the start of something more beautiful than he could ever hope for.

Bruce is going to kill him, but he feels truly content in the moment.

[thehighladywrites]

Beneath their smiles

ft. Rhysand

SUMMARY: You find out your friends used you for status, leaving you heartbroken. Rhysand is here for you<3

warnings: swearing, hurt, comfort,fluff, shitty friends, nice revenge.

A/N: Kind of a personal one for me, I used to have shitty friends like this so this was really satisfying to write😋

banners: @cafekitsune

There was nothing in the world that Rhys hated more than seeing you upset.

What could have possibly made his sweet darling this upset? You were sitting in his lap, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He had one hand supporting your back while the other was drawing soothing circles. You were crying your eyes out, hiccuping, not even managing to talk properly between sobs when he asked what had happened to you.

You sat there for hours, listening to him whisper calming words of love and support. Finally, you looked up to him and the sight broke his heart.

After your crying session, your eyes were bloodshot, puffy, and swollen. Dried tear streaks ran down your face, making you look utterly drained, vulnerable, and sad. His protective instincts upon seeing his mate in such a vulnerable state were going crazy. It made him start making plans to confront whatever or whoever had made his mate cry so much. But Rhysand didn’t push you to speak if you weren’t ready. He knew you’d tell them whenever you were.

You took a steadying breath and spilled everything that had happened before your eyes started to blur again.

"Rhysie, I had the most horrible day ever. My friends completely cut me off for no good reason. They all made secret plans to catch up, and I saw them in front of me, laughing and huddled together. I so so badly wanted to go up to them, but when I got closer, I overheard them say that they weren't going to include me in their plans. They also whispered that I was a burden to you, and that a low-born nobody like me was only useful when getting invited to balls and parties – that our friendship was just a charade for their own amusement. They'd pretended to be my friends, but in reality, I was nothing more than a pawn in their game of social climbing. So, it turns out they were never truly friends; they were just using me for access to the stupid parties they craved. I feel so foolish,Rhys. They always chattered about parties and festivals, but I thought they enjoyed my company. “

He kissed your temple and let you silently cry on his shoulder again. He masked any anger he had, because it wasn’t about his revenge now, it was about comforting you.

“Oh, my sweet darling, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You deserve real friends who appreciate you for who you are, not just for the parties you can provide. You’re such a kind and wonderful person, and this experience with those vermins doesn’t define your worth at all. We’ll get through this together, my love. I promise you’ll find new, genuine friends who will value you for the amazing person you are, and who will see your kind heart and genuine soul. Remember that I’m always here for you, and I love you so much, okay? If you want to, we can banish them.”

You give him a tired smile and let out a sigh of comfort at the feel of love he sends through the bond. He gives you a sweet, loving kiss as he carries you to bed, tucking you to lay with one arm on his chest as you tucked your face in the crook of his neck. He had an arm protectively slung around your waist, keeping you as close as possible.

” Thanks Rhysie, m’so happy to have you forever. I love you s’much. But that’s not necessary, I have something better in mind. “

“ Of course darling, I love you too, can’t wait to hear about this diabolical plan my baby has planned. “

You let out a genuine laugh, and he gives you a last kiss before he pulls you closer. He runs his hands through your hair, as he always does whenever you’re upset, lulling you to a comforting sleep.

- - -

The night was beautiful, millions of starts decorated the dark sky, and the music filled the air. You and Rhysand were hosting an exquisite starfall party in your home. It was a celebration that enhanced the beauty of Velaris. A perfect night for some payback.

As the guests were flown up to The House of Wind, elegant guests in shimmering attire began to mingle with eachother. Among them was all of your friends and family from other courts, like Helion, Kallias and Vivienne, Thesan, Tarquin and so many more joined to celebrate.

Suddenly, at the edge of the entrance, your oblivious friends huddled together ready to dance the night away. Their faces masked with false smiles and ill intentions. They attempted to join the festivities, whispering and snickering, oblivious to the icy glares they received from your inner circle who knew of their betrayal.

However, the sentries, loyal to Rhysand, stood firm. As your friends approached, the guards blocked their path, not allowing them a step further.

"Sorry, but you can't enter," Declan, one of the sentries declared, his voice carrying authority.

Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their arrogance suddenly shattered by reality. They had always been invites to the High Lords party, what the hell was going on?

"What do you mean?" one of them demanded, her voice tinged with false innocence. "We were invited."

The sentry raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. " We have specific orders to not let you in. In fact if you don’t move, I’ll throw all of you in a holding cell for the night. Move along. ”

Seeing the High Lord's sentinel not wavering their stance, the mean friends grew flustered. They attempted to argue, to demand, to manipulate. But Velaris, under the rule of Rhysand, had no place for those who betrayed and used others for personal gain. Especially not his perfect mate. No, they weren’t ever going to hurt you again.

” I think there has been a mistake. Do you know how we are? We’re friends with the Lady of night, and we’re always invited. So let us speak to Y/N she’ll know who we are. ”

Tired of seeing their pathetic attempts, you drag Rhysand over to them to resolve the situation. But before you can say anything, Rhysand speaks up as he looks at them with disgust and wrath.

"Your actions towards my mate and your Lady are disgraceful. It's clear you've treated her with cruelty and deceit. You've shown a complete lack of respect and compassion. In my city, I value loyalty and kindness, qualities you so clearly lack. Know that I won't tolerate any more harm coming her way, because if any of harrass my mate again, I’ll see to it that it’s the last thing you do.

You’ve been asked to leave once, and you won’t be asked again. This is a night of celebration and unity, not a place for your pathetic attempt at deception. Your presence here is unwelcome, and I will not tolerate any disruption. It’s in your best interest to leave now, before Declan makes good on his word. ”

You look to him with a small smile and say into his mind,

” Thank you honey, I don’t know if I would’ve had the strenght to say all that. I love you so much. ”

” I love you too, but don’t thank me darling, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. ”

Defeated and stunned your now former friends were left with no choice but to retreat, their faces flushed with embarrassment and anger as they slinked away from the entrance, watched by the crowd.

Observing the whole scene you both couldn't help but smile as he tightened his hold on you. He had protected his mate and ensured that the party remained a celebration of true friendships, leaving no room for something other than that.

[dindjarindiaries]

Senator's Shadow - Chapter 4

summary: Tensions rise more than ever before as you, Sergeant Hunter, and the rest of Clone Force 99 take action.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x fem!reader

rating: mature (18+)

tags: bodyguard romance, forbidden love, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut

word count: 9.769k

chapter 3 ⟸ series masterlist ⟹ chapter 5

chapter 4 ⟹

You triple checked the fastening on your holster before you let out a soft sigh and moved the skirt of your dress to conceal it. There was an invisible burn on the skin of your thigh that had been left behind by another touch days ago, and it continued to remind you of its lovely ache even now. You had half a mind to let the holster unfasten itself again, but your rationality won that battle time and time again.

The room would have been pitch black if it weren’t for the dim lights illuminating the space of your suite. Your eyes found the chrono and you raised your brow at how early it was. At least it would still be the same person greeting you outside your doors.

You kept a comfortable shawl around your shoulders as you approached the doors and let them slide open. The sergeant tensed as he spun around to face you, a careful hand set over his holster before his helmet straightened in realization. He relaxed as his visor gave you a quick once-over.

“Senator.” Hunter’s tone failed to hide his concern, his voice sending a sweet shockwave of comfort through your tired body. “I thought I heard some movement in there.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “So much for trying to stay quiet.”

Hunter huffed, though the exhale was drawn out into a longer breath. “Having trouble sleeping again?”

You tightened your lips as your gaze fell from his visor. Your shoulders lifted in a small shrug before you answered. “Sleep just feels secondary to everything else at the moment.”

Hunter lifted his arms from his sides to remove his helmet. Your gaze found his own as his brown eyes, as vulnerable and observant as ever, sparkled at you. “I understand.”

The small smile that stretched across your lips was genuine. “I know.” The two of you stared at one another for much too long before you glanced at your room over your shoulder. “I’ve been working on the plans for tonight’s mission, if you want to get an early look.”

Hunter’s brow raised. “The perks of having the last watch, huh?” You laughed and shook your head, leading him inside the room. “If Tech hears about this…”

You shot him an amused look as the doors to your room closed behind him. “None of them will hear about this, unless you’ve been enjoying all their teasing these past few days.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “I wish I could say I wasn’t used to it.”

You had to force out a chuckle when the words struck you with an unexpected pang of jealousy. Did the sergeant often grow so close to those he served that he would be used to such teasing from his squad? You hushed your exhausted mind’s overthinking and focused on the holotable in front of you. “Here’s the village we’ll be protecting tonight.”

Hunter tightened his grasp on the helmet tucked underneath his arm as the other rested upon the edge of the holotable. “This is the one Tech identified?”

You nodded at him. “It’s pretty far from the capitol. We can make it on foot, but it could take a while.”

Hunter’s gaze slid over to you for a moment. You could have gasped at how handsome he looked with the blue light of the holo illuminating his face, highlighting the shadows around his chiseled face. “Shouldn’t be a problem for us.”

You turned to face the holomap again before you could get more flustered. “Great. We should leave before daylight’s completely gone. It’s more than likely they’ll attack right at nightfall.”

Hunter nodded in your periphery. “Echo’s been working on finding a good exit, unless you already had one in mind.”

You smiled. “I’d appreciate his insight on that. That’s the last piece we really need.”

Hunter took a deep breath, his jaw circling before he spoke. “I figure Wrecker and I will be teaming up out there to identify any explosives. I can sense most of them, and he could disarm them in his sleep.” You giggled at that. “We’ll have Crosshair positioned up high as the lookout.”

The sergeant’s eyes glazed over with worry as he paused in consideration.

“I’d prefer Tech to be monitoring comms somewhere near him. He said his ankle’s better, but I’m not convinced that it’s ready for all this action.” You couldn’t help smiling at the concern he showed for his squadmate. “Echo will be on foot ready to intercept them or cause a diversion. As for you, Senator…”

Hunter paused again, the corner of his mouth raising before he went on.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

You crossed your arms and returned his look. “I think it’s most sensible for me to pair up with Echo.”

“I’d say the same.” Hunter lifted an eyebrow. “But is that what you want to do?”

You hadn’t realized the sergeant could be this bold, especially so early in the morning—but the upcoming fight wasn’t the only storm that had been brewing ever since the welcome banquet. Your gaze remained in his as you responded. “What I want doesn’t matter. Only the safety of your squad and my people does.” You nodded before lowering your head. “That’s why we have to take the sensible approach.”

Hunter let out a soft chuckle. “My squad isn’t really used to the ‘sensible approach,’ Senator.” He took a step closer and reached his free hand towards you. The touch that had been haunting you for days found your chin, gently tilting your head back up so that your eyes met his again. You parted your lips in awe of him as he went on. “And trust me, you don’t have to sacrifice all your wants for your people’s needs.” He nodded. “You can still fulfill both.”

Your gaze searched his as you sat in the heavy silence. Your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you broke it. “Are we still talking about the plan, Sergeant?”

Hunter gave you a once-over that could have made you melt if you weren’t so well-versed in composure. “If that’s what you want, Senator.”

An unprecedented warmth blazed over you from head-to-toe as you uncrossed your arms and stared at him. Your heart raced, the blood pounding in your ears, as you slowly drew closer to him out of instinct. He didn’t move, instead letting you be the one in control of the situation. It only made you want him more.

But your nose couldn’t even brush his before your gaze fell to the hand of his that still held your chin. You lifted your hands to gently wrap around his wrist, lowering his hand and holding it politely between both of yours. With a deep breath, you spoke in a quiet yet honest voice. “What I want is to continue protecting those I care about.”

The hand on top of his gave it a small pat as you gained the faith to meet his gaze again. It was hard to read the emotions you found there, but there was an undeniable sparkle that hadn’t been there before. He had understood everything about you up to that point, and you needed him to continue doing so.

“I need that above all else.”

And there it was, the usual furrow in his brow that proved he was somehow inside your mind, understanding each motivation behind whatever you did. There we no doubt he saw it, too, the truth of what would happen if this storm broke. Any path that could potentially lead him to desertion wasn’t one you were willing to take, not with the danger that would pose to him—and his squad.

Hunter nodded as dutifully as ever. “I understand.” The lack of disappointment in his voice, exchanged for fondness, made the pill much easier to swallow.

You managed a smile for him. “Of course you do.”

Hunter returned your smile with a sweet huff. You freed his hand as your arms returned to your sides. He was back to his usual cadence as he spoke again. “I didn’t realize you were so passionate about mission plans, Senator.”

Your ears burned, but you didn’t fight the way your smile grew in amusement at his words. “I’m very passionate about a lot of things, Sergeant.” You gave yourself a moment to enjoy the warm flush that spread across his cheeks before you looked at the holomap again. “So, I’ll position myself with Echo.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the help.” Hunter continued to wear a fond smile even as he looked upon the holographic plans. “Usually, it’s him and Tech, but… not with Tech’s ankle.”

You raised a curious brow. “Is Crosshair always alone, then?”

Hunter hummed. “He likes it that way.” His gaze slid over to you. “Wrecker doesn’t do heights, Echo can’t stay still, and Tech doesn’t really do silence.”

Your lips spread wide in an amused smile. “And you, Sergeant?”

Hunter shrugged, raising his chin as he began to return your smile. “I’m a man of action, Senator.”

You giggled, the sound more giddy than you had hoped it would be, and glanced down at your feet for a moment. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

“I’m not surprised.” You lifted your head up to face him again, though he had already focused back on the dimly lit plans. The hint of a smile still tugged at the corner of his mouth even as he changed the subject. “I can’t imagine wearing our armor will be an option with all this secrecy.”

“Actually, you can wear it, and you should.” Hunter’s head snapped towards you at that. “I have a solution.”

Hunter tilted his head. “What kind of a solution?”

“A simple one.” You shrugged him off and adjusted the wrap that was still sitting on your shoulders. “You’ll see it later tonight.”

Hunter set his free hand on his hip. “A surprise, huh?”

The material of the wrap began to gently slide off your shoulders, and you let it pool at your elbows. “You’ll find that I’m full of them.”

It was hard to miss Hunter’s gaze flickering over you at the quick action, and even harder to miss the tightening of his jaw as he turned back to the holotable one more time. He paused to take a deep breath before speaking again. “Well, I should get back out there before anyone notices I’m gone.”

You nodded and considered teasing him, but let it go for now. “Right.”

Hunter returned your nod, and you deactivated the holotable as he turned towards the doors. He only made it a few steps before the internal battle you were having with yourself decided on a victor.

“Sergeant?”

Hunter stopped in his tracks, turning over his shoulder to face you again without hesitation.

You smiled at him once more. “Thank you.”

His earnest brow furrowed together. “For what, Senator?”

“For understanding.” Your gaze gave him the same once-over he had given you earlier. “All of it.”

Hunter nodded dutifully, but the action couldn’t fully hide the hard swallow he took. “It’s not easy being a leader.” He gestured with his head to the doors behind him. “I’m always here if you want to talk.”

You beamed and echoed your own words from before. “I know.”

Hunter offered one last small smile before he turned back to the doors, sliding his helmet on as they opened for him. You watched him go until the doors hid him from sight once again. With a deep exhale, you ran your hand along your forehead, resisting the burning ache in your chest that demanded you bring him back in and finish whatever he was going to let you start.

This fight was taking an entirely different type of strength from you, and it wasn’t something you could have ever trained yourself for.

From there, the rest of the day proceeded as usual, with you attending diplomatic meetings while Clone Force 99 continued to sweep the perimeter—and no doubt did whatever smaller tasks they had to for the mission that night. You were still focused on your attempts to reach a peaceful compromise through diplomacy, even if you knew the effort was in vain. You weren’t one to give up easily.

But there was nothing like exchanging your gown for your tactical clothes. You could breathe easier as you laced up your boots and secured your holster over the material on your thigh rather than vice versa. Having better access to your blaster and knife provided you with a security you hadn’t felt since you landed onworld—at least, when you weren’t in the presence of Clone Force 99.

After triple checking you had everything ready for yourself and for the squad, you approached the doors. They opened, and immediately, Tech turned to face you, looking up from his datapad as he did so.

“Tech, hail the squad.” You nodded at him with a small smile. “It’s time we get ready to go.”

Tech returned your nod. “Yes, Senator.” He then shifted away to speak into the comms. “Hunter, the senator is ready for us.”

“Great.” You had to bite your cheek to keep your smile from growing at the sound of Hunter’s voice. “Let’s move out, boys.”

You heard the sound of some of their doors opening, but Tech spoke before you could truly focus on it. “I have to say, Senator, that was very punctual. The calculations I made for how much time you would require clearly underestimated you.” He set his datapad on his belt and tilted his helmet. “My apologies.”

You let out a soft laugh and set a hand on his shoulder. “There’s no need to apologize, Tech. I appreciate you keeping us on schedule.”

Tech’s eyes brightened at your praise before he nodded once more. You lowered your hand and looked to the side, where your gaze unsurprisingly connected with Hunter’s visor.

He had stopped in his tracks, and though his helmet barely moved, you could still feel the heat of his stare observing your new look. You resisted the urge to break your gaze even as your ears started to burn. The sergeant only came to his senses when Wrecker knocked his shoulder against Hunter’s as he passed him by. You chuckled as you watched Hunter give his helmet a few small shakes before closing the distance over to you.

You gestured with your head to the suite behind you as you faced the group. “Let’s make this quick.”

They all nodded, giving you the freedom to turn around and lead them inside. You reached for the pile you had made on the table and faced them once again.

“Here.” You began to distribute the black fabric to each of them, recalling the order in which you had stacked their sizes. “You’ll need these.”

“What are they?” Echo was the first one to ask.

“Hooded ponchos.” The last one you had to hand out was Hunter’s, and his gloved hands brushed yours as he took it. You somehow pushed down the rush of warmth the small moment brought you. “These will help to keep your armor concealed, including your helmets.”

“Cool,” Wrecker breathed as he slid it on over his broad figure. “Do you have one too, Senator?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Kind of.”

There was no missing the smile in Hunter’s modulated voice as he spoke next. “What a nice surprise.”

You flashed him a smile of your own. “I’m full of them.” You caught the fond tilt of Hunter’s helmet before you began to walk over to the holotable. “We’ll make the briefing quick so we can stay on schedule.”

“That would be wise,” Tech chimed in, even as he finished adjusting the poncho on his lean frame. Crosshair fixed Tech’s hood when it failed to make it over the antenna on his helmet.

“I’m sure you’ve done plenty of research and preparation on your own, which will help this go even faster.” You illuminated the display, which you had since added red markers to. Each marker indicated a person’s designated position, following what you and Hunter had discussed that morning. “Sergeant Hunter and Wrecker will be searching for any explosives they may have planted.”

“Oh, yeah!” Wrecker cheered.

“To disarm them,” Hunter reminded him.

“Oh.” Wrecker attempted to shrug off his disappointment. “Yeah.”

“Echo and I will be covering for them on the ground.” You pointed out your and Echo’s entry markers. Echo’s gaze flashed with surprise, but he nodded dutifully nonetheless. “Crosshair, we need you to keep watch up here and be ready to lay down additional cover.” Crosshair looked pleased at that, crossing his arms as he nodded. “And Tech, you’ll be sticking with Crosshair to monitor comms and help him analyze the situation from a distance.”

Tech’s eyes widened behind his goggles as he lifted a finger. “I typically complete those kinds of calculations and functions on the ground as well, Senator, if you would like me to join you and Echo for additional—.”

Hunter’s voice was low as he cut him off. “Not happening.” His visor looked pointedly at Tech’s ankle. “Running around on that injury in the dark is asking for trouble. You need to heal.”

Tech sighed. “I have told you, Hunter, that the ligaments in my ankle are much stronger now. I am more than capable of navigating this terrain without an issue.”

“Still.” Hunter lifted his helmet from his head to convey his severity to Tech. “You’re staying with Crosshair this time. That’s an order.”

Tech let out an annoyed exhale, but ultimately nodded. Crosshair snickered and rocked his shoulder against Tech’s as he spoke. “Lucky me.”

Hunter’s gaze slid over to you, no doubt catching the small smile you were wearing at the sight of his protectiveness for his squad. “You were saying, Senator?”

You shrugged. “That’s really it. Otherwise, just remember to keep your blasters on stun. The less injuries, the better.”

Hunter reached for something on his belt and handed it to you. “Here’s one of our extra comms.” He nodded as he closed your fingers around it. “In case you get separated.”

You returned his nod. “Thank you, Sergeant.” Hunter was beaming, despite the worry that swam in the depths of his gaze. You wished you could reassure him, but a new thought came to mind, and you had to focus on your audience. “Echo, how did getting an exit go?”

“Well, Senator, I definitely found one.” Echo removed his helmet, revealing his furrowed brow as he did so. “But you’re not gonna like it.” His gaze found Hunter as his voice lowered. “Neither are you.”

You and Hunter responded at the same time. “Why?”

Echo exhaled and walked over to an armoire that was meant to hold outerwear jackets. His fingers tested the edges until he pressed down, and the armoire slowly turned to reveal a dark, stone-walled corridor. Your jaw dropped, and when you stole a glance at Hunter, you saw his jaw tensed and his eyes widened to double their usual size.

There were a thousand questions running through your mind, but you made yourself pick the one that would most benefit the situation at hand. “Where does it lead to?”

Echo gestured with his head to the nearest viewport. “The outside, behind some decorative flora.”

You offered him an impressed raise of your brow. “How did you find it?”

Hunter wasn’t as eager. “And why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I was able to access the schematics.” Echo lifted his right arm. “I wanted to make sure it actually existed before I said anything.” Echo paused to look into the corridor. “Now we know it’s real.”

You nodded at him. “This is perfect, Echo.”

“Perfect?” Hunter was appalled when you turned to meet his gaze. “Senator, this gives them easy access to your private quarters. What if they use it to—.”

“Relax, Sarge.” Crosshair’s cool tone contrasted greatly against Hunter’s hot frustration and concern. “Nothing’s happened to her yet.”

“And now we know about it, like Echo said,” Wrecker added. “We can keep an extra eye out.”

“Exactly.” You lifted your brow at Hunter. “It’s just as much our advantage as it is theirs. Now we can come and go for these missions as we please.”

Tech was the last one to chime in. “Your concern is unwarranted.”

Hunter gave the group one last disbelieving look before he sighed and nodded. “You’re right.” It wasn’t hard to see the gears of his mind turning as he went on. “Just know we’ll have to start doubling up our watch shifts. One at the doors, and one wherever this leads.”

Echo was the voice of reason. “If that’s what the senator wants.”

You had to resist laughing as you looked at Hunter again. His eyes pleaded with you, and you weren’t strong enough to deny him. It was a well-founded concern that made your chest warm. “Whatever puts you at ease, Sergeant. For now…” you turned to Echo and nodded, “we have to get going.”

“That is correct.” Tech looked down at his datapad, which no doubt displayed a chrono for him. “We will be off schedule if we delay any longer.”

You turned off the holotable and walked over to where your own hood and half-mask awaited you. “Echo,” you set both items in place, “care to lead the way?”

Echo nodded, setting his helmet back over his head and covering it with his hood. You looked over to see Hunter doing the same, though you were still able to catch his worried eye before it disappeared from view. You were the first to follow Echo inside, with the other four bringing up the rear. It was Tech who pressed whatever Echo had to close the armoire’s entrance, and the group all activated their torches to light up the corridor.

“It looks like this place hasn’t been touched for years,” Echo commented as you inhaled the stale air and passed plenty of abandoned cobwebs.

“I wonder why it exists,” you mused.

“It was likely installed by a previous ruler or diplomat who occupied the suite you’re currently residing in,” Tech theorized, unable to help himself. “This would have been a critical means of escape in the event of an emergency or threat to their life, which is quite often the case for people in power.”

“Trust me, I get it,” you murmured.

There was a hand on your back, but it was familiar enough to keep you from reacting to it. You looked over to see Hunter at your side, his helmet tilted. You offered him a reassuring nod, along with a smile you couldn’t resist. He returned the nod and lowered his hand, taking his previous place a few steps behind you.

After a few stairs and a turn around a dark corner, the group came upon the exterior door. It took a few seconds for Echo to find the activation, and once he did, the door slid open the same way the armoire had. He stepped out first and cleared the area before inviting you and the squad to do the same.

“You weren’t lying, Echo.” You barely dodged the branches of a hedge as he guided your way around the flora. “This is right in the middle of the gardens.”

Hunter made his way closer to the front of the group. “It’s good at concealing the entrance.”

“It is.” Echo agreed with the sergeant before turning his helmet to you. “You’re gonna have to lead from here, Senator.”

You nodded. “All right, everyone. Get ready for a trek.”

You then ran forward, blending in with the darkness of the night thanks to your wardrobe. The squad followed at your heels, with everyone maintaining the silence as you traversed your way through the forests of Eirus. Only the sounds of your feet treading upon the foliage and the chirping of nightlife could be heard—at least, for most of you. You weren’t sure what else Hunter was, or could be, picking up on.

You were nearly there when Hunter set a gentle hand on your shoulder to stop you. His other hand was raised in a fist, which signaled the rest of the squad to pause as well. You watched as Hunter bent low to the ground and picked up some of the dirt, sifting it between his gloved fingers.

Hunter’s voice was low when he spoke. “They’ve been through here.” He stood back up to his full height and faced the squad. “Crosshair, head up.” Hunter pointed to a nearby tree, and Crosshair nodded back he shouldered his rifle and began to climb. “Tech, stay low.”

Tech nodded and drew his blaster as he crept close to the trunk of the tree Crosshair was climbing. Hunter released a gentle breath as he turned to you and Echo, though his visor lingered on you.

“We’ll split up here. I can’t sense much yet, but we’ll stay in touch.” Hunter gestured to his helmet.

“Sounds good.” You nodded, but within your chest, a feeling of dread crept up at the idea of separating. “You two stay safe, okay?” You forced the feeling away by focusing on Wrecker. “Sorry, Wrecker, but I don’t want to see any explosions.”

Wrecker huffed. “This one time, Senator, I’ll agree with ya’.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

Hunter gestured with his helmet to Wrecker. “What he said.”

You smiled and nodded once more, turning to face Echo. Yet there was a familiar hand that found yours in the dark, his fingers brushing yours with a gentle squeeze before he pushed ahead into the foliage. You stared after Hunter in awe for a moment, your chest warming with an entirely different feeling as you focused on Echo.

The ARC trooper nodded at you. “Ready, Senator?”

You raised your blaster with a small smile. “After you, Echo.”

He tilted his helmet in a substitution for a smile before running ahead. You followed him closely, using the foliage for cover as you went. You were surprised when the silence between the two of you was broken by Echo, whose tone was as eager as you had ever heard it. “So… you and Hunter, huh?”

Your eyes widened as you flashed him a surprised look. “What?” You hoped you sounded as surprised as you felt, and that the burning of your ears was the only thing giving you away.

Echo chuckled. “I’m only kidding, Senator.” His helmet gave you a quick glance. “But I have to say, he’s really taken a liking to you.”

The warmth was impossible to fight, even if you were able to keep your face straight. “Is that so?” Echo paused to nod at you before he kept going. You followed, but your curiosity couldn’t contain itself. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, even though I’m still fairly new to the squad, it's always been clear that politicians are not Hunter’s specialty. But the way he acts around you?” He shook his helmet in a genuine kind of disbelief. “It’s something I’ve never seen before.”

You couldn’t fight the smile any longer, but you at least aimed it towards your feet as you watched them traverse the terrain. “Really? That surprises me.”

“I mean, I’m surprised he’s even letting me be the one to pair up with you on this mission.” Echo stopped, encouraging you to do the same as the two of you sat along the edge of the foliage. “He’s very, very insistent about your safety.”

You beamed and hoped it was hidden behind the mask that covered the lower half of your face. “I feel the same way about his safety, and that of the rest of your squad.” You took a deep breath as your worries started to return. “You’re all risking a lot for me.”

Echo tilted his helmet at you. “That’s what we do, Senator. We know the risks.” He huffed. “And this squad loves them.”

You laughed softly and shook your head. “You have a wonderful squad, Echo. You’re very fortunate.”

“I am.” Echo reached forward to set his hand on your shoulder. “But as far as I’m concerned, it’s your squad right now, too.” His tone became even more lighthearted as he went on. “Hunter’s not the only one you’ve won over.”

You grinned at him, despite the fact he couldn’t see it beneath your mask. “Thank you, Echo. Truly. That’s very kind of you.” He nodded and lowered his hand. With a deep breath, you gestured with your head towards the outskirts of the nearby village. “With all that being said, what’s your play?”

Echo’s visor scanned the border. “Usually, I wait for one of two things. First, any suspicious movement along the edges.” He pointed towards the buildings closest to you. “Second, anything reported by the squad.”

“And if it’s quiet for a while?”

Echo lifted a hand to his helmet. “I check in.” He pressed down. “Hunter, we’re in position. How are things going so far?”

“They look busy,” Crosshair’s voice spoke into the earpiece you’d attached to the comm Hunter had given you. “Not sure if it’s because they’re finding things or if they’re still looking.”

“According to the patterns of the other attacks, it is likely there will be at least three explosives planted throughout the village,” Tech informed the group. “Hunter is aware of this, and they are seeking out these three. Given that this is a smaller village, however, there may be less.”

“Or more,” you breathed in worry, but didn’t activate the comm.

“More?” Echo’s visor stared at you.

“It could be a part of their strategy.” You furrowed your brow as the pieces started to come together. “A more brutal attack on a small village like this would expedite the people’s desire to get a resolution.”

“And make them more desperate.” Echo finished the thought for you. He cursed and activated his comm again. “Hunter, Wrecker, be on the lookout for more than three.”

“More?” Tech repeated the word just as Echo had before.

You chimed in before Tech could go on. “This could be their play. Attacking a small village like this with more brutality would get the people of Eirus to do whatever it takes to make these attacks stop.”

“The senator’s right.” Your heart dropped into your stomach at the haunted sound of Hunter’s voice. “Echo, Senator, I hope you two are good at disarming explosives. Wrecker and I are gonna need some backup.”

You and Echo shared a tense look, and Echo was the one bold enough to ask the question you were both thinking of. “How many are there?”

“Too many. It’s a hell of a lot more than three.”

You closed your eyes and composed yourself with a breath. You had faced odds much higher than this during your freedom fighting days, but with all those same allies now working against you, the weight of it all was much heavier. “We’ll start searching on the eastern half,” Echo assured Hunter.

“Be careful.”

The pure concern in Hunter’s tone wasn’t lost through the comms. You lifted yours to your mask. “You too.”

“How touching.” Crosshair’s tone was as cool as ever as he spoke once again. “But you two better get a move on, Echo. You’ve got hostiles inbound.”

“Already?” Echo sighed and readied his blaster. You did the same. “Great.”

“I hope you’re ready for some action, Echo.” You kept your tone light as you tilted your head at him.

Echo huffed and waved his blaster around. “Let’s just hope I’m not rusty after this little break of ours.”

You chuckled and let him lead the way. While you might have been a freedom fighter, Echo was an ARC trooper of the Republic, and those were credentials you could never surpass. He stuck to the shadows, using your dark clothing to your advantage, and kept moving until he could spot the hostiles Crosshair had pointed out. They weren’t anyone you could recognize, at least not from this distance.

Echo let out a breath. “I know we’re the diversion, but… we need a diversion.”

You wasted no time leaning down to the dirt to grab a stone and throwing it in the opposite direction of where you were headed. It made impact with the side of a building, catching the hostiles’ attention as they jogged off in that direction.

Echo’s visor gave you an incredulous look. “How did you know that would work?”

You shrugged. “Not all these people are trained fighters. They’ll get jumpy at any sound they hear.” You gestured with your blaster to the way ahead. “Come on.”

You and Echo ran forward, finally reaching the edge of the village. Your search for explosives began on the outermost exteriors of the sparse village’s infrastructure, and it came up fruitless until you got to your fourth building. “Senator,” Echo announced, his voice a hushed whisper. “We’ve got one.”

You looked over his shoulder and saw the circular explosive. It had no indication of when it would detonate, and that meant only one thing. “They have to be activated.”

Echo’s visor found your gaze again. “We have no idea when they’re gonna be set off.”

You lifted the comm to your mask again. “Tech, do you have any data on what time the past attacks have taken place?”

“I do.” Tech was quick to answer, and even quicker to provide said data. “The times have been rather inconsistent, but… they do follow an odd pattern.”

“What kind of pattern?” Echo questioned.

“They always take place at the top of the hour.” Your blood started to roar in your ears. “Strategically speaking, that’s not very sound.”

You found your voice again. “What time is it now?”

“Nine minutes until the hour.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You and Echo shared a look that didn’t need expressions to be understood. Echo lifted his hand to his helmet. “Hunter, Wrecker, are you hearing this?”

“Affirmative.” Hunter somehow sounded calm and worried at the same time. He projected a comfort that was nothing short of admirable. “Wrecker’s already disarmed four of them on our side. It shouldn’t be long before we can help you two out.” You exhaled an anxious breath. “Crosshair, keep an eye on those hostiles. We might need you to make some stun shots for us.”

“I read you loud and clear.” Crosshair sounded enthusiastic—at least, as much as he possibly could.

“All right, Senator, I can disarm these.” Echo got right down to business. “I may not be as good as Wrecker, but I’ve got the tools for it.” He raised his right arm.

You nodded. “Be careful, Echo. I’ll lay down cover and keep searching.”

Echo returned your nod before he attended to the first explosive. You stayed close, but kept your blaster raised and studied the closest buildings you could for more. There were none you could see, and you didn’t know whether that relieved you or worried you.

It wasn’t long before Echo joined you again. “That’s one down,” he assured you. “Have you seen any others?”

“Not yet.” You grimaced as you turned a corner. “Assuming I haven’t missed any.”

“Trust your eyes, Senator.” Echo’s encouragement was a comfort you needed. “We don’t have time to double check.”

You nodded, focusing back on your surroundings. It was a delicate balance of staying quiet, moving fast, and checking every single thing your eyes touched—all while trying to evade enemies you couldn’t even see. Echo found a second, and while he disarmed that, you heard Crosshair over the comms again.

“Hunter, Wrecker, watch your six. Hostiles are about to round the corner.”

You bit your cheek in worry for them. The last thing you wanted was to have to actually stun anyone. It would be a whole lot more covert if you and the squad were able to get in and leave without any signs of detection, and an unconscious fighter would be the least helpful way to achieve that.

“Five minutes,” Tech warned.

Your chest was burning at the fast pace of your heartbeat as Echo finished disarming. You pushed onward, soon finding a third to Echo to work on. Your voice was a whisper as you spoke to the ARC trooper. “Where the hell did they get all these explosives from?”

“If the Separatists are backing them, then I’d expect they’d have a pretty endless supply.” Echo managed to answer even as he attended to the explosive.

You shook your head. “That’s who they really want in control of our homeworld.” The thought alone made you sick. “People who give them the resources to destroy our villages.”

“Sometimes, people lose sight of what they’re actually fighting for.” Echo provided the wise words as he finished. “It’ll never be enough for them.” He gestured with his helmet to the way ahead. “Let’s keep moving.”

You quickened your pace even as you remained attentive to every single thing you passed. You heard nothing more from Hunter and Wrecker, which hopefully meant that they averted the hostiles on their own. Echo was working on his fourth when you heard footsteps. Your grip around your blaster tightened. “Echo, we’re about to have some company.”

He lifted his free hand to the side of his helmet. “Crosshair—.”

He was too late. Two figures turned the corner, and you hesitated on the trigger for only a moment. It was the right call.

Hunter and Wrecker lowered their blasters before they jogged over to you. “We finally caught up to you,” Hunter said, his voice breathless as he looked between you and Echo. “How’d it go?”

“Assuming you searched everywhere else,” Echo started, “then this is the last one.”

“Three minutes.” Tech’s voice was as even as ever as he delivered the update. “At this time, I would recommend retreating back to the forest, in the event that there are any you missed.”

“I agree,” Hunter responded. “Echo, once you’re done, we’re heading out.”

“Shouldn’t we do a quick sweep before we go?” You couldn’t help speaking up on behalf of your people. “Respectfully, Sergeant, I don’t want to take the chance that any more of my people are hurt tonight. I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

Hunter’s shoulders rose and fell in consideration, and he tilted his helmet before he responded. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’ll stay with you.” He looked at Echo as the ARC trooper finished with the last explosive. “Echo, Wrecker, head back to cover. The senator and I will be right behind you.”

You would have smiled if the stakes weren’t so high. Wrecker and Echo shared a look before they nodded, with Echo’s hand patting your shoulder as he and Wrecker headed for the trees. You and Hunter began to backtrack the way you came as you offered him a quick glance. “Are you sensing anything?”

“Not yet.” Hunter’s steps began to slow. “At least, not explosives.” He began to turn his helmet over his shoulder. You followed the movement, holding tight to your blaster—but as you did so, you spotted something else.

It only took a split second for you to raise your blaster over Hunter’s shoulder and pull the trigger. One of the attackers hit the ground as you stunned them, causing Hunter’s helmet to whip in that direction. He knew exactly where to aim as he stunned the other one he had sensed behind him.

Hunter lifted his fingers to his helmet. “We’ve been spotted. Tech, monitor comms. Until then, Plan Double Zero.”

You furrowed your brow. “What does that entail?”

Hunter kept his voice low as the two of you began to pick up your pace once again. “Radio silence. I’m not taking the chance that we’re gonna be heard.” You nodded at that, allowing him to go on. “We’ll make contact once we know it’s safe.”

Just as you were about to turn your last corner, a shot rang out from that direction. You and Hunter both rolled to evade their fire, making it behind the cover of a building as you prepared to retaliate. Hunter’s body was shielding you from the direction of their fire, but they still had the open ground. He emerged a few times to shoot, but he hadn’t yet landed any shots.

“We’re pinned down.” Hunter somehow continued to sound calm even as he presented the dire reality of your situation. It began to make more sense as he reached for something on his belt. “I have an idea. When I tell you to run, you run as fast as you can, and you shoot if you see anyone in your path. Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Hunter returned your nod and faced the corner of the building again. He then pressed the button on the item in his hand and rolled it along the ground. It made a sound akin to that of a small explosion, and you saw the smoke that started to cloud the area just before Hunter gave the order. “Run!”

You both rose from your feet at the same time, and you kept him in front of you as you ran. The smoke bomb made it hard to see where you were going, but Hunter guided your path, the circles of his stun shots illuminating the space even more as he finally took down the hostiles in your path. For a moment, you could breathe in relief.

Then, you saw something else flashing in the smoke, a light that only got more and more rapid.

“Sergeant!” You cried out, causing his helmet to whip around. “We didn’t get them all!”

His visor stopped on something behind you, and he lunged in your direction. Hunter’s arms wrapped around you as he swung you in front of him and acted as your shield. All you could hear was a single blaster shot ringing out before the explosion dominated every other sense.

You hadn’t even remembered flying through the air or hitting the ground. The next thing you knew, there were two hands on the side of your face, which was no longer covered by your mask. You blinked your eyes open as best as you could, though the smoke and ash made them burn. You inhaled and instantly began to cough.

That’s when the helmet was placed over your head. The filter inside of it facilitated your breathing, and in just a few long seconds, you were able to get a grip on your senses once again. You sat up on your elbows as the hands that were on your face moved to your shoulders, and even though it was quite the adjustment getting used to the view through the sergeant’s visor, you could see Hunter kneeling over you.

“There you go.” Hunter’s worried eyes were giving you a once-over. “Are you okay?”

You let out a groan as you sat up more. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rolled your neck. “Just winded.”

Hunter nodded in relief. “Good.”

You smiled, believing him to be in the same condition as you, but that quickly faded when his eyelids began to flutter. Your brow furrowed as you snapped back into action, your hands now finding his shoulders as you assessed him. “Sergeant? What is it?”

You didn’t receive an answer. Hunter’s head hung low before he keeled over, landing on his side. Your heart leaped into your throat as you rose to your knees and held the side of his face.

“Hunter? Hunter?!” You tapped his cheek, but he didn’t wake. You cursed and observed him more closely, and that’s all it took to notice the scarlet on his left side.

It was then that you remembered the blaster shot you had heard before the blast. The shot was what Hunter was actually protecting you from, and part of it had clipped him badly enough to start bleeding him out.

You swallowed down a panicked gasp and leapt into action. The radio silence kept you from calling the squad for help, but you refused to wait for them, anyway. You would do it on your own.

For a moment, you observed where you were. The blast had at least knocked you both closer to the woods, and it was an area that was even more familiar than where you had been before. There was a hidden base from your freedom fighting days on this side of the village’s forest, and if you were lucky, it would still be completely abandoned.

The only challenge would be getting Hunter’s deadweight there.

Stars, give me strength. You rose to your feet and removed Hunter’s helmet from your head, placing it over his own to protect him. You hooked your arms around Hunter’s shoulders and pulled up, grunting as you used all your strength to do so. The adrenaline made you a hell of a lot stronger as you started to drag Hunter away from the heavy smoke and flames.

As you made your way to the secret base, your strength began to wither more and more, but you refused to stop. Hunter had sacrificed himself to save you from both a lethal bolt and an explosion, and you were going to give him that same effort right back. That wound could bleed him out if it wasn’t treated soon, and you weren’t going to let that happen.

You allowed yourself only a few breaks before you finally saw the outline of the old base. Thankfully, it was completely unattended, which likely meant the attackers of this village weren’t any of the fighters you were familiar with. You groaned with each movement as you heaved yourself and Hunter inside the rickety shelter, one that blended in well enough with the surrounding nature to keep the two of you secure for a while.

You propped Hunter up along the farthest wall and removed his pack from his back. Taking his torch and your own, you set them up to illuminate the dark space for you to see. You removed Hunter’s helmet and grimaced at the way his head hung in unconsciousness. Your hand cupped his cheek.

“I wish I could ask your permission, Sergeant,” you spoke to the open air. “But I have to save your life.”

You wasted no more time removing his poncho and the pieces of armor on his upper body, attempting to give yourself better access to his side. Once they were removed, you lifted the top half of his blacks, pulling the material over his head and tossing it aside with the rest. There would have been quite a sight to see if you weren’t so tunnel-visioned on the bleeding wound in his side.

Like any good leader, Hunter had a fully equipped medpac in his pack, and you broke it open to start attending to the wound. Your hands were precise even as they trembled, cleaning the wound and pressing on it to stop the bleeding the best you could. After a few minutes of pressure, you reached for the treatments, disinfecting the wound and coating it in at least three generous layers of bacta. The last touch was a bacta patch that you secured in place with a wrap.

It was only then you exhaled, knowing that your part was done. All you could do now was wait for him to wake.

You calmed your nerves by keeping yourself busy. The contents of Hunter’s pack also included emergency food and water, and you held on to the latter along with a dose of pain medication. It was in the midst of this careful organization that you finally heard Hunter stir.

The sergeant groaned as he attempted to push himself off the wall. You were quick to sit up more and set a hand on his bare shoulder, urging him back against the wall. “Easy, Sergeant.” You met his worried gaze and nodded. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Hunter tried to exhale a relieved breath, but he cut himself off with a tight growl as it tugged on his sensitive wound. “That’s not what I was worried about,” he confessed through gritted teeth.

You smiled and shook your head. “I’m fine. You, on the other hand…” you let the panic of all these events show for only a moment in your trembling voice, “you had a close call.”

Hunter’s gaze softened at you before it lowered to his patched up side. “I’ve had worse.” His brow furrowed as he looked up at you again. “How did we get here?” Hunter’s curious eyes observed your surroundings. “Where even are we?”

“It’s an old base. No one else will know about it.” You raised an eyebrow. “If they did, they’d be making use of it.” You gestured with your head to the entrance somewhere behind you. “I brought you here.”

Hunter’s eyes widened. “By yourself?”

You huffed. “I’m stronger than you think, Sergeant. Remember what I said before?” You ran your thumb over his shoulder. “I’m full of surprises.”

The corners of Hunter’s lips began to rise as he lifted his brow. “You really are, Senator.”

You returned his smile, though it started to fade as you focused on the hand you still had on his bare shoulder. You pulled it away and looked down as shyness overtook you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t ask your permission to… access your wound.”

Hunter’s hand found your chin just as it had earlier that morning, tilting your head up until your gaze met his again. His eyes sparkled at you even in the darkness of the base. “You don’t have to apologize for saving my life.”

You chuckled and raised your brow. “You saved mine first.”

Hunter shrugged, wincing at the movement. “I guess that makes us even.” He lowered his hand from your chin as he attempted to push himself up more.

You watched him with a careful eye before reaching for the water and pain relief. “Here.” You handed them off to him. “You’ll need this.”

Hunter smiled as he took them from you. “Thank you.” He took the medicine and swallowed it down, and you had to look away to fight the way the action flustered you for no good reason. As he set the water aside, he approached a new subject. “Where’s the squad?”

You sighed and shook your head. “Don’t know. We’re still radio silent.”

Hunter’s brow rose. “Still?”

You nodded. “Tech hasn’t said anything. The area must not be secure yet.”

Hunter’s gaze looked beyond you for a moment, no doubt focusing on the entrance to the base. “We have to get back to them.”

He started to sit up again, and you set a hand on his shoulder again. “Not in your condition. You have to rest more.”

Hunter furrowed his brow. “They could be knee-deep in combat right now. I can’t let them fight alone.”

You wanted to soften for him, but your concern wouldn’t allow it. “They can handle themselves, and you know that. They would want you to take care of yourself if they knew you were hurt.”

Hunter didn’t let up. “I’m not abandoning my squad.”

You exhaled a curt breath. “You won’t be helping anyone if you rush into a fight in this condition.”

When Hunter gently eased your hand off his shoulder and began to sit up more, you set both your hands firmly upon his chest, moving your body in front of him to act as a wall that kept him from pushing forward more.

Your voice left no room for argument as you gave the order. “You need to rest, Sergeant.”

Hunter’s stare never left yours as he responded. “I can’t rest when I’m this close to you, Senator.”

His words took you aback in a way you hadn’t expected. Your breath caught in your throat as you, too, observed how close the two of you had gotten. Your gaze fell to your hands, watching the way his scarred chest rose and fell in steady breaths underneath your palms. Your right hand was close enough to his heart to feel the way it raced, moving at nearly the same quick pace as your own.

And there it was again, the touch on your chin that urged you to drown in the depths of Hunter’s gaze. Everything shifted as the previous frustration you both held was exchanged for another, one that had been simmering between the two of you from the moment he first kissed your hand on Coruscant.

The invitation was there again. Hunter didn’t move, but he gave you the freedom to. This time, you didn’t weigh yourself down with the what-ifs, as Echo’s words and reassurances from before rang through the back of your mind instead. You moved closer to Hunter until his nose brushed yours, drawing a quiet, anticipatory breath from your lungs.

Even then, Hunter didn’t move. The choice was all yours. And this time, you were going to make the right one.

Your lips slotted over his in a way that felt natural, albeit still quite shy. You tested the waters as you breathed into him once, staying close enough to keep his nose against yours as you pulled away. He had given you the first choice, and you were giving him the second.

You wanted him to want it as badly as you did, and you wanted so much more. Thankfully, he did too.

Hunter’s hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling your mouth back to his with the same desperation and desire that had been forcing deep down inside yourself. The shyness had all but vanished as your lips molded together, moving in perfect sync as your exploration of one another deepened. You raised a hand to the back of his hair as his free hand ran over the back of your leg, encouraging you to take your place upon him.

The moment his tongue pushed through, you lost any last shred of control you had, tightening your grasp on his locks as the fingernails on your other hand grazed over the skin of his chest. His hand on your thigh tightened and drew a pleased sigh from you that you released into him. There wasn’t a chance you were separating from him, not yet—and if you had it your way, not ever.

But Hunter had other ideas. He broke away only to lower his face to your neck, praising the sensitive skin there in a way you had never felt before. Your eyelids fluttered as you fought for some shred of sanity, but you couldn’t keep quiet. Your hand found his upper arm, and you gave it a squeeze to ground yourself as you practically cried out. “Hunter…”

It was the pleased hum against your neck that truly stole your last breath. You couldn’t take another moment apart, no matter how good this felt. The hand in his hair urged him back, and as soon as you had access, your mouth and your tongue were his yet again.

There was no conceiving how long this went on, and it didn’t matter. Nothing did, not as long as you were connected to him in this way. The adrenaline of everything that had happened was creating a dangerous mixture with the affection and desire that had long since been left unaddressed, and it was too addictive for either one of you to ignore.

Until the comm on your belt began to chime.

“Comms are clear,” Tech announced. “So is the area, as far as Crosshair and I can tell.”

You and Hunter broke apart, lips lingering as his mouth kept your upper lip captured in sweet surrender. You shared panting breaths in the air between you as your gazes met one another. It was hard to make sense of anything when all you could feel and taste was him.

But you could still tell Echo’s voice was worried even through the haze of your stolen moment with Hunter. “Does anyone have eyes on Hunter and the senator? Wrecker and I aren’t finding anything.”

The moment was over, and you would both have to face it. You continued to stare at Hunter even as you unclipped the comm from your belt and activated it. “We’re here. We took shelter until we knew it was safe. We’ll rendezvous at Crosshair and Tech’s position.”

Echo couldn’t hide his relief as he replied. “Glad to hear it, Senator.”

You put your comm back and released a sigh. Rather than looking at Hunter again, you focused on the pile of his armor at your side. As leaders, it was time to focus back on your people. He would understand that just as he had understood everything else. “Time to suit back up, Sergeant.”

Hunter nodded in your periphery to agree with you. Though he reached for the pile with a tight growl, you gently pushed his hand away, instead doing much of the work for him as you started with the upper half of his blacks. Silence sat between the two of you as he re-suited, but you weren’t sure what to make of it. You were both too far inside your own minds to really think about it.

His helmet was the last thing you secured in place for him, and you held it between your hands for a moment as your gaze studied his visor. This was something that would have to be discussed later. For now, he had to focus on his squad, just as he had let you focus on your own people before.

You stood and helped Hunter to do the same. He grunted at the movement, and you ducked low to swing his arm over your shoulders. You had already picked up both your torches and helped Hunter with his pack, and one last sweep of the base confirmed you had left nothing behind.

Nothing but the unspoken truth of what you had done, the remnants of which continued to linger on your mind, heart, and mouth with a sweet vengeance that was no doubt only going to make things even more difficult than they already were.

chapter 3 ⟸ series masterlist ⟹ chapter 5

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb

senator’s shadow tag list: @violetlilly2020 @jellybeanstacey0519

[kruegerspillow]

task force 141 + how they show their affection :3

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

creators note: a gift for these feral cod fangirls/fanboys tbh. just a simple heads up; this isnt exactly canon. isn't proofread either btw, apologies for the mistakes (the four hours of sleep is kicking in >:3)

warnings: none? a pinch of nsfw, but meh, nothing too explicit here

• Well.. Simon is Simon.

• Once he gets comfortable, he definitely tries to match your love language. And lets just say, that experience wasn't really.. pleasant. Especially if your love language is spending time, or words of affirmation.

• I don't really see Simon as the 'verbal' type of guy.

• So.. he buys you gift at random times. When he's in the middle of a mission, in his base, in the evac, literally everywhere.

• He was hesitant at first though, thinking that you might see him as a creep whenever he asked you questions like your favorite food, flowers, snacks, colors. But he really just want to show you his appreciation, in his way.

• LOVES it when you thank him or send a picture of you just smiling while holding the gift he had bought for you. Makes his heart aches everytime, and it upsets him a bit to know that he can't always be there for you, and you must've been so lonely with his gifts.

• Will buy anything you like. Literally anything. You want a necklace? He got it. Oh, you prefer matching hoodies? He got it. A German Shepherd? Wellll... he's going to think about it.

• My guy probably shows his affection through every way possible in this universe, LMAO.

• He's gotten you gifts before, praising you with his words whenever you impress him, hugging and clinging onto you tightly like a koala, spending time with you in cafes or malls that you favor, and the list goes on..

• But if he had to choose one? It's definitely physical touch.

• Your skin feels so soft against his, he had admired your curves even in public, he loves having your hands interlinked together, he felt.. really closer then ever.

• Though he won't force you, but if you insists on showing this affection first, he'll melt into a puddle. He loves PDA, but not the totally extreme ones. A simple hug or kiss on the cheek is more then enough for him.

• I mean.. just look at him. He's a touch-starved guy who's been away from his favorite person, what did you expect? A simple kiss at home wasn't enough for him, definitely not. He wants to feel you clench around him..

• Just look at this cuddly bear, and do NOT even tell me that he wouldn't praise you.

• He loves using his words for you, always praising and supporting you through his little 'I love you's' and nicknames. And if you do the same to him, it'll be a different story.

• Loves to see your reaction to his words. Whether you blush, look away, gets all fidgety, he just loves to see you in such a shy state.

• Always praises you at any time. After a successful mission, he goes up to you and goes 'attagirl/attaboy', while giving you a soft pat on the shoulder. He always means it, especially in his words. He'd always been a genuine and straightforward guy anyway.

• Or after a lovey-dovey session, just whispering praises in your ears and telling you how well you did, how well you took him, as he caresses you softly.

• Three simple words. Act of service.

• He might be one hell of a sassy guy, but he would be SO vulnerable around you. Every order you tell him, he'll give you a playful comment, but definitely follows it.

• Probably gets all embarassed when you mention about the way he's following your comands, he'll always be rejecting the fact that he listens to you really well.

• He can literally feel his knees going weak when you praise him after he had followed your orders, but he acted all tough and confident around you.

• You want him to cook? Sure, tell him what food you want. You want him to buy food? Sure, tell him what restaurant. You want him to cuddle with you? Gladly, with open arms, while you with open legs.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Poor wife reader having a bad day and just wanting to be held but Bruce locked himself in the cave to work and her just “I thought having a husband meant I’d have someone to hold me at night” (not in a mad or petty way just a “I’ve had a bad day and so I’m really sensitive and maybe saying things without thinking or filtering them”) and it shooting bruce right in the heart.

I just want to see bruce learning how to be a healthy partner after shutting everyone out for so long

"Are you alright?"

You glance up from your mug, cradled carefully in your hands and force yourself to smile. "Just a long day."

Alfred nodded, "Is there anything-"

"No, I'm alright, thank you. I'm just going to finish my drink and go to bed."

"Very well," Alfred said. "I think Master Bruce is... preparing for a trip if you'd like me to alert him you've returned home."

You shake your head and card your fingers through your hair, "I'll leave him to it. When I called him earlier he seemed... busy." And grumpy. You add silently. And you can't regulate other people's emotions right now. Today was hell. And Bruce was busy. A case he couldn't tell you about.

When you looked back down at your mug, curled around yourself for comfort, Alfred suspected it was more than a long day. You had a full plate. And it seemed like more was added every day. Meetings, appointments, and now interviews and adjusting to having a very public marriage... He didn't envy you.

Or wonder why you might not particularly want company. Just the breif glimpses he's had into your day to day made him wonder how you didn't pull your hair out. So he took his leave. Letting you enjoy some semi silence and a few moments just to have no one speaking to you. And made a mental note to keep more of that particular tea in the pantry. You seemed to enjoy it more than the others. Or at least... you were most familiar with that one. He shuttered to think what would have passed for tea in your house growing up.

____________

When you slipped into the bedroom, rubbing your neck, Brucce looked up from his packing.

He might be going to Dubai as Batman but... Who knew if Bruce Wayne could smooth some things over for him. It happened like that some times.

"I didn't know you were home," he said blinking. "I thought you had a late meeting."

"I wasn't feeling well," you shrug. "I just wanted-" You break off. What you wanted was to curl up in his lap and go to sleep. But. If he was getting ready to go there was no point.

"Sweetheart," he said, frowning slightly, "If this is about earlier-"

"When you hung up on me? No."

"I had another call- Hal-"

"You're a part time super hero. I get it. I just-"

"Spit it out," he prompted, smiling a little. You didn't want to hurt his feelings. And you were tired.

"I just wish I didn't feel like a part time wife."

That hurt. And he tried not to let it show on his face, but it must have. Because you winced and started stammering apologies.

"Oh sweetheart," he sighed. He knew you'd been lonely. Almost from the start. As soon as the honeymoon was over and real life slammed back into focus.

"I know Gotham has to come first. And the the Justice League but I just... I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything."

He can see you bracing for a fight. That you were reading his body language and it told you he was angry. Yours of experience telling you that he could hurt you. That he could use things you'd told him in vulnerable moments to smack you back in line- and that you're ready to roll over to avoid the pain- and that hurts too.

Because he is angry. But not at you.

All you ever wanted was him. His time. His attention. All the gifts he bought for you were nice. You appreciated them. But all you wanted was a quiet night in, half asleep on his chest.

No diamonds, new cars, or fancy dinners would do that for you. He could hand you his credit card and send you to Paris on a shopping spree and you MIGHT buy something but- more probably you'd just shrug and go look for a stand that sold fresh pastry. It was one of the things he loved about you. You'd learned to march to the beat of your own drum. To love generously. And that's why as you stood there apologizing, all he could do was let the words wash over him.

"You should come first," he corrected.

"Bruce-"

"No listen," he said, crossing the floor to you carefully and taking your hands. "You should come first. And I'm sorry that you can't right now. I'm going to make it up to you-"

"You don't have to," you murmur, looking away.

"Yes, I do," he said, tilting your chin up slowly. "I don't know how. Or when. But I'm going to make this right."

"I'm a big girl, I understand that you have responsibilities-"

"And taking care of you is one of them," he reminded, pulling you against his chest and hoping that he could hug you hard enough to make you understand."And it's an honor. And a privlige. And a responsibility all that the same time. You shouldn't feel like a part time wife, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry-"

"I'm not," he said simply. "Because now that I know there's a problem I can fix it."

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 11: Collateral Damage

Words: 5.8k

Summary: It's been a month since your breakup with Carmy and Syd wouldn't ask for your help unless they were absolutely slammed.

a/n: 1 more chapter + epilogue to go and I don't know what to do with myselffff!!!!

Thank you for sticking around thus far and commenting is always appreciated!

Heartbreak is a funny little thing. You can walk a delicate line all your life to avoid feeling it, but one way or another it’ll find you. It’s the eternal debate: To avoid all and spare yourself from hurt, but live a life of emptiness and quiet; or to welcome the pain like an old friend, at peace and knowing you never stopped trying. Everyone chooses a side at some point, but you’re never really spared from it. 

You’ve always hated the part of you that feels too deeply. The one that created stories out of strangers, wonder struck by microseconds of eye contact, then shattered when they step off the train. The one that no matter how many times was dolefully blown into the ground, it still believes in good grace and  happy endings.

“So yeah… That’s basically it since the last time I saw you.” You say, twirling the small ring with the aquamarine stone that you had stopped wearing long ago. You look up to the woman sitting across from you and ask “What? You asked me how I was.”

“And I wasn’t expecting a two hour monologue.”

“Well what did you expect? Haven’t seen you in months, I needed to vent…” You fight back.

You can hear the soft scribbles of her pen for a couple minutes and you make yourself comfortable against the soft pillows that fill up most of her couch.

“So, how long has it been?” She speaks again.

“Bout a month…” You sigh.

“And have either of you tried reaching out?”

“No, I-” You take a breath and ponder over the question, the single unanswered text weighing heavy on your phone. “I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, I’ve been too busy with my paintings and helping out with the auction. I don’t really have time for… anything else. I-I guess he’s been busy too.” 

“But you still know what he’s up to?” She asks with raised brows.

You shrug with a single shoulder and chew at your thumbnail with slight nerves. “Syd talks about work sometimes, when we go out. But I think she kinda feels guilty for bringing him up. I told her it’s fine.” The woman looks at you skeptically through the small circular glasses. “I’m fine.” You half lie. “I am, it's just… The auction is this weekend and they’re catering so… I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel…”

“Because you’ll see him again?”

“...Yeah.”

The woman calls your name again and you rip your eyes from the ring on your finger, heavy inside your own head to hear her question.

“So, is your set finished?” She asks to change the conversation.

“Mhm. It only took me a couple weeks to finish but -” Your smile curls slowly at the edge of your lips. “I'm really proud of them.”

“That’s great to hear.” She whispers with a genuine smile. “You know, heartbreak can also be a beautiful thing. It’s painful, yes, but it also gives a vulnerability we don’t regularly allow ourselves. It lets us create wonderful things. It’s all part of the human experience. It truly is nice to know you’re doing better, even after going MIA for months.” She says with a practiced tone mothers use to scold you.

She schedules you in for the next month and you promise to not bail this time, then walking out the office with your bag over your shoulder and a lightweight heart. The prospect of seeing him at the auction is still heavy on your mind as you make your way to the train station and the simple thought fills your chest like a crisp breath of air. ‘He could just send Syd’ you think and you try to not engage too much with the idea in fear that it may sour your good mood.  Instead you focus on your steady steps and people watching, ‘whatever happens, happens.’ you mumble under your breath.

**********

Syd’s call had pulled you from the comfort of your home before the sun was even visible over the horizon. Her worried tone had you waking up instantly and darting frantically around your darkened room in search of anything that could shield you from the increasing cold, then out the door and in the dreaded direction of The Beef. 

It’s been a month since you last spoke with Carmy and even though in the grand scheme of time, it’s only a mere speck of dust, to you it had felt eternal. Small snippets blur together into one long strenuous day, piggy-backing off your grief and pushing your shoulders deeper into the ground. You had called him a few days after in hopes that you could talk things over, but it went straight to voicemail. So you left a text that you anxiously waited an answer for the following days. All of a sudden, one week turned into two, then three and before you knew it, a month had gone by without a response. You kept busy picking up most of the planning to avoid any crossing thought of him, only allowing yourself to break with your canvas in front and acrylics to spear. 

You had done enough to convince yourself you were fine, that even if he were to show up tomorrow and not send Syd on his behalf, you'd be fine. 

Fine. Fine. Fucking fine. 

Everything was fucking fine until this morning when Syd had called to ask for help at the restaurant. Richie had been arrested, the place was a mess and they were behind on prep for the event tomorrow because they were lacking hands. Protesting would only lose you time that they did not have, so in place of that you settle to ignore the treacherous wormhole vacuuming out the few remains of confidence you had saved for tomorrow as you wait for the train that’ll leave you on River North Station.

Twenty three minutes later, you're walking at a brisk pace through the streets with a thick knot for a stomach and a growing unease. You push through the door and stop in your tracks at the shock and disarray of the place.

“What the fuck? Ugh-” 

The potent smell of alcohol is the first thing that invades your nose, along with the stickiness of the floor the deeper you walk into the room. There’s solo cups scattered everywhere and half working Christmas lights hanging loosely over the walls. Some frames from the front wall lay broken, spewing shards of glass all around the tiles.

“Mi amor, qué sorpresa!” You hear Tina’s voice from behind the counter and you slowly walk towards her, the small pieces shattering under the weight of your boots.

She hugs you tight and kisses your cheek. “Tina, what the hell happened in here?! It smells like the fuckin’ Hangover…”

“Ay baby, don’t even get me started with these knuckleheads-”

You take another woeful look around, then follow her inside as she recounts the little information Sydney gave them from the frantic phone call she had with Carmen. How they rented out The Beef for a bachelor’s and Richie had knocked out some drunk while defending Carmen’s ass. It’s strange to you, the pair’s relationship. How they were always ready to rip each other to pieces, but would jump to save the other without a second thought. They said they couldn’t stand one another, but you’re sure they’re something either can’t live without.

“So what, he’s in for aggravated assault?” You ask.

“Only if the guy wakes up.” Marcus answers with a broom in hand, sweeping away remnants of glitter and tinsel.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Could be 5 to 25 for accidental manslaughter…” Sweeps chimes in while carrying a full trash bag to the back.

Your throat closes up and behind your concern, you hear Marcus ask Sweeps how he knows so much about the matter. ‘Bro, I told you. I went to Harvard Law…’ ‘Oh yeah…’

You breathe in  deep while maintaining the possibility of his release still in your mind and you head to Syd’s side, pulling your hair up into a ponytail automatically. 

“Alright, brigade’s here. What d’you need?” You say after a quick hug hello.

“Guess you know more about it than I do…”

She’s flipping through the binder with all the recipes and images of the canapes they’d be serving, the one you helped Carmy assemble all those months back. Despite a few scribbles and notes at the foot of some recipes, it’s practically the same. You bend the corner lightly on the last page to find the miniature ‘C’ surrounded by purile hearts and your morning coffee grows knotty in your gut.

“Is he…” You try asking, but the sentence loses power half way through.

Syd seems to catch your drift. “No, no. He’s been down at the station since dawn.”

You nod absentmindedly with your eyes glued to the page. 

“Okay, um. Marcus left the sourdough for the tapas rising all night yesterday, so we have a good start on that-” Syd began and you pull all your attention to the task at hand. “Beef’s already bracing in the oven but it’ll take a couple more hours. You can start with the ginger- tangerine compote. That’ll go on the brie.” She says, handing you one of the blue aprons. 

“Alright, heard.” The words feel unnatural rolling off your tongue after being away from a kitchen for so long.

She leaves you in search of Fak, urging him to finish fixing the backed up sink in the Steward section. You drown out the bicker and hastily make your way into the walk-in, throwing the apron over your head and tying the back securely around your waist. It’s almost as if the familiar pressure unveils a dormant sensation and you soon find yourself navigating with ease through the skills you thought forgotten. The knife feels at home under your palm -heftier than a paint brush but still requires the same level of  concentration- as you separate the tangerine supremes and add them to the pot holding clarified butter, sugar and rosemary leaves. Everyone works in a rhythmic but comfortable silence, a stark difference from the frantic, unmeasured mess they seemed to thrive in when you still worked here. 

“Yo chef?” Marcus calls from your left. 

You lift your head to him while you finish peeling the ginger. “What's up?”

“Mind tasting this for me? It’s for the gig but somethin’ bout the filling don’t feel right…”

You nod and wipe your hands on your rag, then take a bite into the miniature stuffed doughnut that doesn’t seem bigger than an Oreo. The flavors are too thick to tell them apart but  the softness of the dough allows it to almost melt in your mouth. 

“The dough’s perfect-“ You say between bites, the compliment blooming over his face into a grin. “How bout a different filling though, there’s a lot going on and you can’t really enjoy the texture.”

“Right!? See, that’s what I was thinkin’. Got anything in mind?”

“Mmm, you could try a chai cream filling.”

“Just milk and cinnamon, then?”

“Yes and also no” You answer with a smile. “Try to steep some black tea in milk with cinnamon and ginger. Then instead of sugar, add honey to your crème and the chai milk. It should be a little bit more runny so when it cools it doesn’t get that jelly-like consistency from the egg.” You finish then turn back to peeling off the skin of the ginger with your spoon. 

Marcus is still standing beside you with a pleased smile. “You really know your stuff, huh? Thought you was burnt out.” and you lightly hit him over the arm with the back of your spoon. 

“Oh, I can totally smoke your ass baker boy..” You grin.

Before he can fight back, a sudden commotion by the entrance has you lifting your head above the second level of the table and searching for the noise. The slick handle of the spoon  almost slips past your hand when your eyes capture the image of two very sleep deprived Carmen and Richie walking through the staff door. You can see everyone showering them with attention, how Tina hugs Richie tight then smacks him hard over the head, but the loud ringing in your ears and the sudden rush of cold blood prevent you from moving any closer. Not that you’d want to anyway. You try to pull yourself together, wiping your clammy hands for the tenth time and watching them advance deeper into the room. Richie’s the first to spot you and true to his nature, he lets the whole room know that he’s seen you, with outstretched palms in your direction.

“Oh, shit! This a fuckin’ family reunion?!” His hand falls heavily over the crown of your head and you swat it away with a smack.

“How’s prison?” 

“Oh, y'know…free food, can’t complain.”

“D’you get yourself a bitch?” You tease.

“Yeah, brought ‘em home, actually-” He says pointing back to Carmy, causing the forming grin on your face to fall when you see he’s been watching you. You pull your eyes from him and back to your cutting board. “Oh right, my bad…”

You shake your head, mumbling a sharp ‘asshole’ through gritted teeth. Richie takes off to the back and you’re finally left at peace.

You fall into a pronounced balance of chopping and continuously stirring the compote, until it reaches the needed consistency and you pull it off the fire to cool. You check it off Syd’s thoroughly organized list and scroll down to find the next task, then make your way back into the walk-in. With a bowl resting on your hip, you pick out a few pears you’ll need, then hear the creak of the metal door open and you assume it’s Syd coming in to take a breather from the frenetic kitchen.

“Yo, I’m gonna start poaching the pears. You’re out of red wine but I can run to the corner store and try to flirt with the clerk to knock a few bucks off a bottle-”

The slick bowl almost slips from your grip when your eyes catch his. A chill slithers from your neck, down your spine and wraps around your knees, rendering them uselessly immobile as Carmy just stares you down through tired lids. The room grows uncomfortably smaller with the two of you locked inside and you're afraid that he can hear the irregular tempo in your quickening pulse. You wonder if the slight shock in his brows is due to not knowing you were in there. It only flashes for a second, then his features conceal behind a curtain of indifference, making your stand straighter.

“H-hey.” He says with a feign coolness as he wraps his own apron around his waist and moves deeper into the room, as if it’s the most natural thing to find you between the inventory of his restaurant.

You turn back to the shelf so he doesn’t notice the multiple quivery inhales it takes for your voice to sound somewhat even. “Syd asked me for help, that’s why I’m here I-”

“No- yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-” He cuts himself off and takes a breath that has your wavering stare slowly inching towards him. “Thank you…”

You finally turn to him, only holding his stare for a second, then give him a tight smile and wrap both arms securely around the bowl that wants to slip from your clammy palms. His lips part and you wait for anything else to leave his mouth, maybe a ‘How’ve you been?’ or a ‘Can we talk?’. But nothing does and you try to not let it sting as much as it normally does when you get your hopes up. You take a reluctant step towards the door, then another and another, only stopping when your name vibrates in the concealed room.

“Yeah…?” You turn with a full chest.

He holds an unopened bottle of wine in your direction, face blank. “Bottom left shelf.” He says, shrugging.

“Oh. Right.” You take it without meeting his stare so he doesn’t see the grief slapped across it and quickly push yourself out the space.

You spend the better part of half an hour peeling the thin skin off the pears and letting the simmering wine and spices fill the kitchen with a strong sweetness. Carmy’s presence looms around the room as he checks in with every station on their progress, but doesn’t stop with you. All you get is a soft ‘Behind’ and the tingling sensation of his touch on your lower back as he passes by. You don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, although it doesn't really matter to the breath that stops in your throat when he does it. ‘Just finish this and you can leave.’ you repeat to yourself. Though you know you won’t, at least not until they’re up to schedule, even if every second sharing the same space withers at your soul.

You do your best to focus on your task, only talking to Tina when she gently squeezes your forearm to ask if you're okay, because your brows are glued into that permanent scowl that only displays your irritation outward.

“Yeah I, um- just got a lot on my plate.” You tell her and try to not let it trigger the tears you’ve hoarded in the back of your throat.

“No te hará sentir mejor-” She whispers to your side. 

“-Probably not-”

“-pero él está igual de miserable que tú. Really baby, you should have a talk with him, y’know, straighten things out.”

“T, ni siquiera me ve a la cara…” You whisper back. “How am I supposed to straighten anything out if he won’t even look at me?”

“Ay, baby I know. But I’ve known that stubborn boy all his life and let me tell you, since he came back from Madison Square Park -or wherever the fuck-, he was all different and… bitchy. And it wasn’t ‘till you came along that he finally felt like the Carmy we all knew before… pues ya tu sabes.” She says in reference to his brother.

“You two are good for each other, but you’re both stubborn as hell… talk it out, okay? Don’t lose somethin’ good ‘cause you're stubborn.” Tina rubs your shoulder reassuringly then with a final smile. she turns yelling ‘Corner!’ and disappears behind the tall stands.

You swallow down the aching knot and distract yourself with the slippery fruit in your hands.

“Can I..?” You see his hands before hearing his voice, as he lightly places a white cutting board a few feet away from you. You eye the curves of discoloring letters above his knuckles, then force your stare back to your own working hands and shrug.

“Sure… your kitchen.”

He only nods, from your side view you see how his eyes linger on you for a few moments then fall back down. The air between you feels thick despite the music playing from the hoarse stereo and a light layer of conversation from the staff. There’s a heavy pressure over your chest that only seems to expand with every silent minute passing between you. 

Then Carmy clears his throat. “How’s-uhm- your set.. for the auction?” 

Confusion and irritation brew in synchronicity with your wine and you try to hide the annoyance his question brings you. He acts as if he’s just seen you the day before, as if things had ended with a friendly handshake and a mutual agreement, not with him breaking up with you and completely vanishing from your life.

“It’s fine.” You turn to the burners and stir the pot slowly to keep it from burning and also to avoid his heavy gaze.

You taste it to make sure the flavors are correct then turn back to finally finish peeling the last of your pears. Carmy stares at you like he wants to say something else, but just contemplates the seriousness of your features and the flow of your hands as you move the peeler in a frenzy. Each stroke grows closer to your skin and he just feels the need to warn you.

“Careful you’re gonna-”

“Mierda!” You hiss, dropping the handle immediately and cradling your palm under the injured one. “Hijo de puta!”

He’s by your side in a second, with his clean towel hovering under your hands and taking the fruit that you crushed involuntarily when the pain closed your fist. 

“It’s fine- I’m fine.” 

“No you’re not, you’re bleeding-”

“I said I’m fine!” You pry your hand hard enough to hear a slight pop from your wrist.

Carmy’s hands fall to his sides and you divert your gaze to the floor walking to the nearest sink to clean your wound. You hiss again when the warm water hits your palm and a gash at the bottom of it is finally visible. Fucking perfect. You scrub remnants of puree and blood off, until the water runs a light pink and you're relieved to see it won’t need stitches. A gauze and some tape will suffice, so you wrap it in some paper towels to avoid dripping and march to the small office where you find the kit. The quicker you move, the faster you’ll be out of the confined space that makes you feel like a vulnerable prey. But your fingers tremble from the light sting and the edge of the wrapper isn’t cooperating with your dull nails. Tiny droplets of blood pool in the center of your palm, the frustration grows too quickly and you slam the unopened gauze flat on the desk.

“Fuck!”

‘It’s fine, you’re fine.’ The voice in your head circles through the same phrase, pretending that the sudden proximity of him didn’t unearth something you have tried so hard to bury down for the last month. You thought you could be mature enough to ignore the crushing weight settling over you with every stare, but the wisps of frigid indifference that radiated off him wrapped a tightening noose around your neck and you weren’t sure how long you had until it finally killed you. 

A soft click pulls your attention from the crimson in your hand. Carmy stands with raised palms, inching slowly towards your intense glare, then reaches out a hand as if trying to help a wounded animal. Which in a way, you are and the joke forming in your mind about the bear helping a fox would be rather funny if you weren’t so immensely upset with him.

With a ragged sigh, you turn in the small space and stretch out your hand to him, eyes locking on a painting on the wall to evade his stare. You ignore the furor of goosebumps that invade your skin the second his touch is on you. Carmen’s hand holds you in the cocoon of his fist, thumb rubbing delicate circles beside the battered spot while he uses the paper towel to soak up all the blood. You reprimand your wayward beats for their reaction to his innocent touch and you have to constantly pull your wandering gaze from reaching the dangerous borders of his tightened jaw. His deep exhales fan the baby hairs resting at the bottom of your neck, his attention fixed on the small imperfection. His movements are slow, asking each muscle for permission to move the next, because having you this close after so long is a luxury he does not want to rush through, not if he’s never getting it again. 

Carmy understood your anger. He could feel it radiating off you in waves that bounced in the small space, but he also understood that he’s never had enough words to properly express the turmoil of everythingness swirling constantly inside his head. He wanted to let you know how hard it had been for him too. Confess the unhealthy amount of time he was spending at the restaurant- only going home to shower then leaving again- because he was afraid of the scent of your perfume and how it lingered on every breathable space in his home… apartment- not home- at least not since you had gone.

He focuses on swabbing the sanitizing wipe tenderly in hopes that his actions can transmit what he can’t say. The alcohol makes you hiss again and his eyes flicker to your frowned brows, mumbling a soft ‘sorry’.

He only lets go to tear open the gauze and some tape, then takes you in his grasp again to wrap your palm up safely. You expect him to let go once he’s done. To create as much needed space to fit the betrayal he portrayed the last time you saw him, this would only explain why he never called back. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t look up at you either. Your stares meet on the flesh where his thumb still brushes over the blood-stained pit, your chest raises in slow puffs and the uninjured hand grips tightly over the edge hitting behind you. This is all too familiar again, right down to the brewing anxiety trickling heat into your overworked veins. You can't help but to foolishly crawl your pupils over the navy blue of his apron, past the strained tendons of his neck, the sharpness of his nose and to the beautiful blue you had missed so much.

Neither of you notice how the space has reduced to mere inches between you until his eyes flicker to yours and every single speck is bright and visible for your admiration. He swallows down hard, the Adam's apple bouncing in his throat portrays his nerves openly to you. The last reasonable, minute voice in his head tells him to pull away, but the way you’re staring up at him has his body tilting in your direction instead. Eyes wide and glossy dance around the freckles dusting his cheeks, causing his hand to float from your wrist to the dip of your waist and his forehead finally falls against yours.

You gasp in softly when his fingers dig into the center of your spine while his nose brushes along yours longingly. You can feel his sultry exhales ghost over the curve of your parted lips with doubt still present in his movements.

“Carmy…” The voice is above a whisper and you’re not sure you even have the strength to utter the sentence that’s formed in your head.

Your voice seems to trigger something in him. His jaw hardens, his fingers bunch up your shirt in a light fist and just as quickly, his grip on you loses strength and his hand falls to rest beside your fisted one. Then a grave sigh parts his chest and he takes a painful step back, unwilling to lift his eyes from the ground.

It takes a minute for you to react, then the butterflies in your stomach turn to wasps swarming in dangerous circles, unable to fly out due to the knot blocking your throat. He’s eerily silent, eyes glued to the floor to ignore your fiery glare.

“Sorry, I…” 

You scoff and shake your head, blinking rapidly to pull back the tears threatening to spill with your anger.

“Screw you, Carmen.” You untie the apron as quickly as you can with your injured hand and throw it at his desk before walking out of the small room.

With strong footsteps, you take your bag from above the lockers and escape out the back. The door slams hard as you push yourself out, Carmen following behind but by the time he calls your name you’re already a couple steps ahead.

“Fox!” He yells and you spin in his direction with nothing but anger over your face.

“Listen, I’m sor-”

“No-fuck you- you don’t get to talk, alright?! It’s my turn.” He takes a step back before crashing into you, jaw locked tight and regardless of the deafening ring in your ears, you refuse to bite your tongue again.

“Look Carmy, I am truly sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m so sorry that I’m here instead of your brother- but that does not mean you get a fuck-it-all free card and get to pull shit like that!” Tears of anger trickle down your heated skin and tickle the curve of your trembling lips.

“I called you Carmy…” The words burn as they force themselves to spill out. “I called you, and I texted you and I waited cause I knew you were pissed - and you have every fuckin’ right to be- but it doesn’t give you the right to kick me out of your life one second, then act as if everything’s fine the next, cause it’s not!”

The sounds of the city have grown mute between your heavy breaths and the erratic beating in your skull. You don’t expect him to answer and he doesn’t seem to have anything to say. He simply stands before you, eyes glossy and brows knitted as you bare all that you kept since the last time you saw him.

“I know you’re scared. And I know you’re angry and whatever this is-was-” You say pointing between you. “I know it didn’t come at a right time. But I meant what I said, Bear, I do love you. So fucking much. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair of you to take it out on me cause you’re angry at him… I refuse to be collateral damage for whatever the fuck you got going on.”

The weight over your chest might have shrunk, but it didn’t make you feel any less better than before, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. You want nothing more than to run to his side and kiss away the few stray drops that nest in the corner of his red rimmed eyes. You want to hug him tight until the loose pieces of his brokenness stick back together into one whole man, but the last of logic inside you knows that it would only serve as a temporary band-aid. So instead you offer a speck of a smile, just a soft curve that doesn’t reach your teary eyes.

“I love you, Carmy. So I dunno, give me a call when you sort it out- I know it’s more of a ‘when’ than an ‘if’ situation-… I think I’m stupid enough to answer.”

Carmen watches from his frozen position as you rub the tears away with the back of your hand, then the gravel crunches under your boots and in a few seconds you disappear around the corner. 

He has enough energy to slump over the crates by the wall and pull the crushed package of smokes from his back pocket. While the wisp of smoke swirls in the wind around him, he rubs his eyes until the image of your tear-soaked face blurs away behind the darkness. The gravel creeks again, heavy steps move from his left then settle with a groan beside him.

“I’m not in the mood, alright?” He says, eyes focused on the street at the end of the alley.

Richie doesn’t say anything, only takes out his own cigarette and joins his cousin in silence.

“Is there, um-” His voice is thick and wavering, barely holding on to controlled breaths. “Is there a name for… when you’re afraid of somethin’ good happening cause you think somethin’ bad’s gonna happen? ”

His thumb rubs anxiously over the same spot on his palm as he waits for Richie’s response.

“Fuck it, I dunno… life?” He takes a long drag, letting the exhale occupy the empty space in front of them. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah…” Then the silence falls over them again.

When his cigarette burns out, Carmy reaches for another, but before he can settle the lighter back down, Richie pulls out a small envelope from the pocket of his jacket and hands it to him. Carmy’s reluctant to take it, his eyes flicker between his cousin and the piece of paper, then he slowly reaches out.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from your asshole brother… R.I.P and whatnot.” Is all he says.

His hand trembles again, his breath short circuits and a new wave of dread nips at the back of his neck. He swallows hard and breathes in deep, bracing himself, before turning it over. ‘This day just keeps getting better…’

Chapter 12.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

[ben-talks-art]

I like how Digital Circus seems to be Pro-kindness

Something I really liked in this episode of Digital Circus is the way the series seems to be cementing itself as a supporter of the act of being nice to others.

This probably sounds like a no-brainer, we should always try to be nice to others, but not every series is really that good at showing why.

A lot of times, "niceness" seems to be more of a tool used to hype up the main character of a story, showing them being helpful to others and solving their problems in order to send the idea of what a great person they are and how being nice to people makes you look good.

It's a way to get us to like and root for the main lead by saying straight to our face that they're a good person, and that when you're a good person, good things will come to you, as usually happens to protagonists.

The thing is... these types of stories usually happen to disguise the fact the protagonist doesn't have much personality besides "they're nice", and having the whole "be nice and good things will come your way" makes it seems like you should be a good person not because you are helping others, but because of the reward you might receive.

One of my favorite examples of a nice character is, the classic, Goku, the dude that can manage to be friends with anyone he meets, but they never make his kindness be his entire character nor do they make it be a cause for reward.

If Goku gets rewarded in Dragon Ball it's usually because he trained hard, used clever ways to solve his problems, or placed confidence in either his own skills or in the skills of his allies or friends.

The fact he's a super chill dude is just part of his appeal, not a tool to get us on his side.

Digital Circus seems to also have found a way to be pro-niceness in a non-exploitative way.

In this case, people who are kind are rewarded with Pomni's friendship. We're not using compassion to show why the main lead is so good, we're using it to show why the other characters are so good.

In the second episode, we see how she befriends that cowboy lizard candy guy, and in this one, we see her bonding with King and showing appreciation for Ragtha, and all it took was a little bit of love from all of them.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, we get Jax, the guy who shows no interest in being nice to anyone or interest in changing the way he acts.

I think this episode finally made me realize what his role is meant to be... He's Joker from "The Killing Joke."

The same way Joker in that story was trying to seek validation for being a terrible person by trying to prove anyone could end up as him if they just had one bad day, Jax seems to be on a quest to validate his jerk-ish behavior by trying to show there is no point in trying to be a good person since their situation is hopeless.

Some sort of way of absolving himself by saying "I'm not the problem! The world is the problem! The situation is the problem! Everyone else is the problem!", in an attempt to try and justify his refusal to be a nicer person.

Which is why it was so satisfying when we reached the ending and he was expecting Pomni to have become just as cynical as him, and she never did!

Something I really want to see being done with Jax is have him go through some sort of Obito moment, have him try to hold on to this comfort zone and refuse to be friends with others, refusing to be nice, refusing to allow himself to be vulnerable and let others help, and show parallels with Pomni as she gets better and better while growing closer to the others.

I want to see the series showing that even though they're all in some sort of "digital hell" (which is kinda what many people think their lives is anyway), it doesn't mean that they should give up, be it give up on others or themselves.

It would be cool if the point was to try and escape this place, but if the point is just to say "Happiness can be anywhere if you surround yourself with people who love you and if you do your best to love them", I would be okay with that too.

I'm happy that instead of using other characters to hype up Pomni, Pomni is being used to hype up other characters. The way they interact, grow, and show more about themselves to us has all been executed in very clever and very fun ways, and I can't wait for more!

I am very excited to see which direction this show chooses to go.

[foern]

hii!! how are you doing?? this is my first time so i applogize if i lack of details/u have a hard time understanding this. May i request for Tokyo Revengers (Mitsuya, Draken, Rindou) where they compliment or just appreciates s/o but she just cries when she heard ut? she kinda barely got attention and praises like that so it kind of melts her heart

they can be like normally say "im so grateful for you" "ur so pretty", but s/o just cries as a response HAHDHSJA I wanna know what theyd do or react, if thats okay ofc! i apologize if im dosturbing your time, i hope u have a great day!

~😻

Anon tysm for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it! I haven’t really read the Manga, so I don’t think I know enough about Rindou to write for him. I replaced him with Mikey, I hope that's okay!

Sorry this id kind of short and took forever, ive been super busy (literally moved to another continent). Anyway, hope you like it!

———————————————————————

Mikey

Mikey’s eyes followed you as you busied yourself in the kitchen, grabbing ingredients to prepare breakfast for the two of you—bacon and eggs. Distracted, you cracked an egg into the hot pan, oblivious to Mikey’s intense gaze. The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a radiant glow on everything it touched, including you. With messy hair from sleep, clad in Mikey’s sweatshirt, and a bare face, you looked absolutely stunning.

“You’re so pretty.” Your gaze swiftly met the blonde-haired boy's; his eyes sparkled, and a warm, admiring smile graced his lips. There was no doubt in the world that he was anything but sincere.

“Don’t be stupid.” You mumble, an obvious blush creeping its way onto your cheeks. Truth be told, you felt completely hideous that day. Your hair was an unbrushed mess, you had no makeup on, and you were still in your pajamas. A wave of insecurity washed over you; a heavy weight settled itself on your chest. As tears welled up in your eyes you turned back to the eggs, unwilling to let Mikey see you cry.

“Hey, hey, hey, why the tears?” Mikey stands up from his chair and steps in front of me. He rests his hand on my waist, rubbing soothing circles into my skin. The words catch in my throat, making it impossible to articulate the emotions flooding over me. Truth be told, I don't even know why I'm crying. His free hand gently lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"You're beautiful," he reassures, his thumb moving from my chin to caress my lip, "Especially when you're making me breakfast."

——————————————————————

Mitsuya

I delicately run my fingers across the luxurious texture of my dress, savoring the sensation of the soft fabric across my skin. My gaze takes in every detail of the meticulously crafted garment—each stitch, every contour, a testament to its thoughtful design. A nervous smile graces my lips as I turn to meet Takashi’s gaze.

“What do you think?” I ask, my voice carrying a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. A faint blush creeps over my face as I catch him admiring my silhouette. His response, a simple yet sincere "You look absolutely stunning," sends a rush of warmth through me.

His bluntness catches me off guard for a moment. I never really grew up receiving compliments, so even now, they have the power to surprise me. A warm weight settles into my chest as an unexpected wave of emotion washes over me. The confident smile I wore earlier fades, replaced by a genuine, slightly flustered one. Rising from his chair, he makes his way towards me.

As he stands before me, placing a hand gently on my hip and the other softly on my cheek, I can't help but marvel at the tenderness in his touch. I hadn't realized a tear was rolling down my face until he wiped it away with his thumb. My heart melts at this action, his eyes never leaving mine. His unwavering, concerned gaze causes my tears to flow more steadily.

“You mean it?” I manage to utter, my voice carrying a mix of disbelief and gratitude. I honestly don’t know why I’m crying, but in this moment, none of that matters. He shakes his head with a reassuring nod. His hand guides me into a comforting hug, the type you never want to leave. “Of course, but I don’t know why you’re crying though. I think it means I should just compliment you more often.”