#i think he’s a fun character. also every time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

insidekatmind · 2 days ago

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Meet my sister P.4-Jude Bellingham

Part.1,Part.2,Part.3

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

The following day, Federico had arranged a special lunch with Jude, Kylian, Vinicius, and, of course, his sister Y/N. Despite the palpable tension between Jude and Y/N, Federico hoped the situation wouldn’t escalate and that everything would go smoothly. He knew how complicated both of their personalities were, and he didn’t want his lunch to end with another argument between them.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Y/N was already there, sitting at the table with a radiant smile, completely unaware of Federico’s concerns. She wore an elegant dress that seemed to fit her style perfectly, her brown hair falling softly around her shoulders. There was something in her demeanor that immediately caught attention, but today she seemed calmer than usual, as if she had decided to take a step back.

Federico approached Jude before he sat down.

"Please, Jude," he said in a serious tone, "try not to argue with Y/N today. I know you two don’t like each other, but let’s try not to ruin everything. It’s important to me that you both behave civilly, at least today."

Jude looked at him, his eyes showing slight irritation. "Don’t worry, I’m not here to fight," he replied sharply. "I’ll try to hold my tongue." But there was no promise in his gaze, only a silent challenge, as if the thought of Y/N was always there, ready to make him react.

Kylian and Vinicius sat down at the table, both smiling, aware of the tense atmosphere but ready to have fun despite it all. The tension between Jude and Y/N didn’t go unnoticed, but Federico hoped that with time things might improve, at least during lunch.

Y/N gestured for you to sit next to her, her curious gaze watching you as you took your seat. A faint smile spread across her face, but there was nothing hostile about it. "I hope you’ve eaten, Jude," she said, her tone sarcastic as always. "I wouldn’t want you to get upset if my order is better than yours."

Jude, who had now taken his seat, slowly turned toward her, trying to keep control. "I’m not going to get upset over something like that," he replied with a sly smile, "but I hope you don’t actually believe your order is better than mine."

Federico sighed, looking between the two of them. The atmosphere seemed charged with almost palpable tension. But, maybe, a little irony and a teasing smile would manage to keep things at least somewhat calm.

---

The lunch continued with an atmosphere charged with tension, but also a certain electricity hanging between you and Jude. Both of you challenged each other with your looks, almost as if it were a game, but while he seemed more serious, you were visibly more entertained by the situation. You couldn't help teasing him, enjoying how he reacted to each of your moves.

When Vinicius started making some jokes, you, without thinking too much, leaned toward him, responding with a light laugh and flirting a bit with his natural charm. "You know, Vinicius," you said with a mischievous smile, "I'd love to see how you move on the dance floor. I see you're good at making girls' heads turn."

Vinicius, always smiling, seemed to appreciate your playful attitude. "Well, Y/N, if you'd like, we can go for a spin once we're done here," he replied, giving you a look that left little room for interpretation.

Jude, who had been watching from a distance, couldn't help but clench his teeth and shoot you a dirty look filled with annoyance and jealousy. Every word that came out of your mouth seemed like a little provocation towards him. There was no doubt you were enjoying making him angry. His expression became harder, but you kept smiling, enjoying the moment.

"I thought you'd be more interested in what's on your plate, Jude," you said, giving him a mischievous glance. "But I see you're distracted." Your voice almost sounded like a challenge, as if you really wanted to test him and see how far he'd go.

Jude stared at you, his look now completely different, darker, and more determined. The annoyance he felt mixed with something deeper, but he would never admit that he found you intriguing. "I don’t get how you manage to do all this without losing control," he muttered, his voice sharp.

Meanwhile, Vinicius, who didn't seem to want to miss the chance to keep the atmosphere light, laughed heartily and got involved in the conversation. "I think Y/N knows how to have fun," he said, looking at you with a knowing smile.

But Jude didn’t seem amused at all; in fact, his face had grown serious. He continued staring at you with a look that, despite trying to appear indifferent, betrayed a hint of frustration.

Federico, sitting next to you, quickly glanced between the two of you, hoping the situation wouldn’t get out of hand. But it was clear now: the challenge between you and Jude was just beginning, and the tension was only going to grow.

---

The tension between you and Jude continued to grow visibly, and soon, the words began to get harsher. While Vinicius and Kylian spoke to each other, trying to lighten the mood with jokes and laughter, you and Jude couldn't hide the irritation you felt for one another any longer.

"What's wrong with you?" Jude suddenly snapped, his tone full of frustration. "Every time I open my mouth, it seems like you have something to say back, don’t you realize how annoying that is?"

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his reaction, but without stopping to keep it intimate and provocative. "Oh, really?" you replied, pretending to be surprised. "It doesn’t seem like you’re suffering that much. In fact, it seems like you kind of like it, considering you can’t stop looking at me."

Jude gritted his teeth, his gaze now burning with anger. He couldn’t understand how you could drive him crazy so easily, but a part of him couldn’t look away from you, despite everything. "You like testing me, don’t you? You thought I’d let some kind words slip out, maybe?" he retorted, his sarcasm sharp.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I do," you responded with a mocking smile. "I enjoy seeing how you react. It's almost funny, if you think about it."

Federico, who had been trying to stay calm until then, looked around and saw that things were getting out of hand. "Hey, enough!" he intervened, trying to lower the tension. "Please, don’t start fighting now. I’m trying to keep this a civil dinner."

But you didn’t stop. Your provocative spirit was too strong, and his behavior annoyed you even more. "But you don’t really want to listen, do you?" you shot back at Jude. "Because if you don’t like me making you lose your patience, maybe you should look for someone who stays quiet. And I don’t think that’s me."

Jude slammed his fist on the table, his face darker than ever. "You have no idea how badly you’re making me want to completely ignore you," he said, his voice trembling with repressed anger. "But I know that's exactly what you want, right? You want to drive me crazy. Don’t think you’ll win with me."

"We’re already in the game, Jude," you replied, your voice deeper and sharper. "And I can see you like playing, at least a little."

Federico ran a hand over his forehead, feeling his heart race. He didn’t want everything to end like this, but it was clear that your battle with Jude had just begun. What was supposed to be a calm dinner was turning into a real battleground.

---

When they left the restaurant, the atmosphere was still tense, and despite Federico's attempts to keep the peace, the argument between you and Jude had left its mark. The guys parted ways, heading to their cars to go to training, but the heavy silence that followed was yet another sign that the tension hadn't subsided.

Federico, who could no longer stand the constant hostility between you and Jude, finally exploded. He approached Jude with determined steps, stopping him before he could get into the car. "I can't take it anymore, watching how you behave with her!" Federico burst out, his voice full of frustration. "Every time you two cross paths, it's the same story! I'm asking you to calm down, to stop fighting with her, and all you do is provoke her!"

Jude, who until that moment had tried to keep a facade of indifference, couldn't help but react. "It's not like you think, Federico," he replied, trying to sound calm, but his voice betrayed a defensive tone. "I don't want to argue with her, it's just that... she's unbearable! Every time I open my mouth, she answers like she's trying to challenge me, and you don’t understand how hard it is to stay calm with someone like her."

Federico looked at him, his eyes full of disappointment. "You don't get her, Jude. She's just a bit... different. She's an exuberant person, always ready to throw out a challenge, but that doesn't mean you should treat her like an enemy. I know her well, and I assure you, beneath all that attitude, there's just a strong personality. She's not trying to wage war on you."

Jude sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, trying to contain the anger that continued to burn inside him. "She's driving me crazy, Federico," he admitted, looking at his friend with frustrated eyes. "I don't know what to do. Every time I see her, I feel like I have to be careful with every word I say because I know anything could seem offensive to her, even if it's not. It's like she's always ready to throw her fight at me."

Federico took a step back, trying to think of how to explain things better. "She's not challenging you, Jude. She's not trying to provoke you on purpose. She just has a way of doing things that might seem hard to handle, but I'm telling you honestly: she's just testing you. And as much as you want to deny it, I know something attracts you to her, even if you don't want to admit it."

Jude looked at him for a moment, in silence, as if he were trying to figure out if what Federico was saying made any sense. "I don't know, Federico…" he finally replied, his tone softer. "But I can't deny that something about her drives me crazy. But I don't even know how to deal with her. She's not the type of girl I’d expect to meet."

Federico smiled wryly. "Yeah, but maybe that's exactly why you should stop acting tough and try to understand what's behind that facade. She's not just a game, Jude. She's a complex person, and if you really want to have any chance with her, you need to stop treating her like a challenge and start seeing her for who she really is."

Jude remained silent, thinking over those words, but deep inside, he knew that the battle with you was just beginning. A cocky smile slipped out, but there was also a hidden unease. "We’ll see, Federico. We’ll see."

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otherworldseekers · 2 days ago

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Severia and I experienced it very differently. My experience of Nero was very non-linear and went like this:

ARR: whatever, random enemy. (I wasn't really into the game at this point.) HW end: lol I guess this guy is kinda funny. Omega (but only like half of it): oh no, he's hot. And funny. Oh no, he's hot and funny. Going back to do CT after 6.0: I… I see. He's also a very interesting character and not just comedic relief. (This is when I initially started shipping with him.) Going back to finish Omega: ThIS MAN has HIDDEN DEPTHS and I am DIVING IN.

I had stopped playing the game partway through the 4.x series and when I came back for Shadowbringers I had, I admit, totally forgotten who Nero was. And I had no idea he was in the CT quests. Honestly it was probably fortunate I didn't do CT earlier. Because Severia really only came alive to me as a character during ShB. So playing CT after that allowed me to really experience it through her eyes. And (apologies to all the G'raha fans) Nero was CLEARLY the most interesting character there. I couldn't help thinking about how she would react to him.

I don't know that I personally ever had a single "oh" moment about Nero. He grew on me steadily, and it wasn't until I had already started shipping him with Severia that I became obsessed with him. It's partly his chemistry with her that makes him so attractive to me.

But of course Severia experienced Nero in canonical order. She also has an "oh no, he's hot" moment when he first shows up at the Crystal Tower, and she hates it. And despite her best efforts to prevent it, when Nero is sucked into the World of Darkness she has a big "oh no, he has affected me more deeply than I realized and I have begun to care about him" moment and it floors her.

You could say their relationship is a long series of frequent "oh" moments on Severia's part. While, Nero is intentionally pursuing her almost from the beginning, every new development in her feelings for him comes as a huge surprise to Severia and has to be adjusted to. (She's not very in touch with her emotions. At least, not until much later.)

And just for fun, Nero's "oh" moment is when Severia kisses him back for the first time (at the Gold Saucer) and he suddenly realizes that this doesn't feel like a game anymore.

fellow wol x npc shippers- If applicable, what was the "oh" moment for you and your oc falling for their love interest? Was yours seperate from your WoL's?

#Severia x Nero #Magitek Melodies

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wardenparker · 2 days ago

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In the Still of the Night, ch 3

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 8.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Flirting, still a little awkwardness, blindfold, sensory deprivation, foreplay, oral sex (female receiving). Summary: Your day out with Zach gets more intense at every turn. Notes: Hopefully you're all enjoying the prolonged date as much as we -- and they -- are! (As always, chapter gifs are for the vibes, not to physically describe the characters.)

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

It isn't hard for anyone who sees you during the rest of the day to spot the dreamy couple out on a date. The older woman who shows you to your table at the restaurant Zach picked out for dinner gives you a wink in agreement that he's an absolute cutie pie and comes back a few minutes later with two glasses of wine and a candle for your table despite none of the others having one set out.

He had chosen a restaurant that was more local than tourist and had been thrilled when there was no formal dress code. Eager to sit down with you after so much walking and talk about more of anything and everything that has been the topics of the day. “So how did you start out singing?” He asks curiously.

“My elementary school had a chorus.” It might be the first time in hours you haven’t been holding hands, but you’re still smiling as you sit side by side with your wine watching the sun set. “I stuck with it because I was a kid and it was fun, then the dance lessons got added, and then as I got older I realized that I also liked theater. It became a combination.”

“So you were a theatre kid.” He nods in understanding. He hadn’t been, but he had been friends with some and understood the passion of performing even if he didn’t have it.

“That’s how I ended up in New York.” You tell him, expression twisting into something like regret. “Just another small town kid convinced they could be the next Broadway star. Obviously that didn’t happen.”

“But you tried.” He reminds you, leaning against your shoulder and wishing he could take away the sadness. “Some people never try.”

“I go between thinking that maybe I should have tried harder, and wondering why I ever bothered at all.” With that offer of support there, you lean against his shoulder in turn and shrug gently. “It is what it is, I guess. But…how did you start cooking?”

Zach sighs softly, knowing that it would eventually come up. “Actually, I just started cooking a few years ago.” He admits.

“You did?” That surprises you enough to turn your head and look at him more fully. “So it’s just at natural talent, then?”

“I guess?” He shrugs slightly. “I got a job working in a kitchen. Saved my life.” He tells you. “Threw myself into it and experimented as much as I could and read everything I could get my hands on.”

“So you stumbled into your calling.” There is something else there, something he doesn’t want to tell you, so you don’t push. “That’s wonderful, though. Some people never find what they’re meant to do in their whole lives.”

“It helps with my anxiety.” He admits with a self deprecating grin. “So I decided that it was the best thing for me. One day I’d like to have a restaurant. One that I can plan every detail, down to free meals for the homeless.”

“I love that.” Without hesitation, the idea is not only a kind one but one you can tell means a great deal to him. “Some places have a system where you can pay for meals for others in advance, too. System like that can be used to pay for extra supplies so no one ever has to be turned away.”

“That would be amazing.” He’s had benefited from that kind of system before, but not often. And he knows how uplifting a good, hot meal can be when you are down.

"You can make it happen." Something in your gut tells you that he can and he will, and even though you have no stake in it, you can't help but feel proud of him for that.

“I’m hoping.” He flashes you a grateful grin. Even your confidence in him sounds so sure when he’s always wondered if he can succeed. “The club on the ship has given me so many ideas.”

"I've been eating your ideas," you remind him with a grin. "And they're fantastic. You're really good, Zach. Any place would be lucky to have you and any team would be lucky to have you lead them."

“What about you?” He asks. “This has to be a stepping stone for you. I’ve already heard from the crew that you might have some head hunters after you.” One of the passengers was apparently connected in the music industry and had been in to the club several nights.

"If I do, that's news to me." Whatever murmurings Zach has heard, you haven't. But you would be lying if you claimed not to be curious. "I don't know, honestly. I think I would rather be a headliner in a little club than wave a rose in a Broadway chorus for the rest of my life. But the chances of either are relatively slim." You take a sip of your wine and offer him a smile, shrugging one shoulder. "In my dreams I'm getting top billing in the biggest musicals and you're running the most popular restaurant in the country. Ultimate New York City power couple."

“That sounds amazing.” Zach chuckles. “Actually, running this style club, I think it would work in New York.” He tells you. “A dinner club.”

"I know it's something that you see in retirement communities in Florida, but I have always loved dinner theater." His laugh is sweet and deep and rolls through you like a wave of joy. "This club is such a great gig for people like us."

“Yes it is, but imagine….” He sighs softly. “Creating a headliner show like you would see in Vegas, right in New York and pairing it with a daily changing menu like we do here.”

"New York would love a show like that." It sounds so doable when he says it. Like a dream you could reach for and pluck out of the sky.

“It would be sold out.” He agrees, flashing a hopeful smile. “One day, maybe if I had the right singer to run the show side of things.”

"I guess you're going to have to get to know some singers then, aren't you?" His bright smile is reflected right back at him, teasing as always but it's because part of you can't dare to dream this big for yourself. Only for him.

“I will.” He nods and shrugs. “Maybe hold auditions or something. Singing for your supper?”

"That's what most of us do." You agree, not wanting your smile to flicker at all even if the memories sting. "Sometimes literally."

Zach catches the change, the dimming of the light in your eyes and he knows that he’s touched on a sensitive topic for you. “I get it.” He promises quietly. “I think I gravitated towards cooking because I knew if I was making food for others, I would not have that gnawing ache of hunger ever again.” He licks his lips. “Food insecurity, the therapist called it.”

Your heart sinks, chest tightening, and you nod as you slip your hand back into his. "I wish I was more surprised to find out that more than a few of us have been there. But a job like ours...with guaranteed housing and meals and a way to save money for months at a time? It makes sense that it would attract people who have had it hard."

Of course you would be understanding. His eyes close as he nods, feeling a little choked up by the compassion in your voice and the understanding in your touch. “Absolutely. And I hate that you’ve had a moments bad luck.” He murmurs. “You deserve so much.”

"So do you." You squeeze his hand gently. "Bad luck doesn't make us bad people."

“Not at all.” His hand slips from yours and his arm wraps around your shoulders protectively. “Now - before we start choking up, what do you want to try?” He wants this date to be nothing but a lovely moment for you and he tries to steer the conversation to more positive thoughts.

Without saying another word about it, you turn your head to kiss his cheek and refocus on the menu in his hands. They have enough tourists in town that the menu from this restaurant has one-sentence item descriptions in English that simply tell non-Greek speakers the main ingredients of each dish. A quick glance around you shows you that everything here seems to be served family style, and you settle in Zach's side again happily.

"How does this sound?" You ask, pointing out the special. Gamopilafo. The menu says, with Arnáki Stamnagathi. "Greek risotto with lamb and vegetables?"

“That sounds amazing.” Zach groans happily and nods. “Do you want to get that and something else?” He doesn’t want you to share with him if you are just trying to make the bill cheaper, he can afford paying for dinner.

"It looks like it's family style? Maybe we can get another side dish to go with it so we can try more?" You shrug slightly, knowing that food was just a topic of some stress for both of you. "Sharing sounds nice. But not if you don't want to."

“I’m not opposed to sharing at all.” He promises, leaning in and nudging his nose to yours. “I’ll share anything with you.”

"Promises, promises." It's too tempting to have him close and not indulge in another kiss, but you keep it short and chaste in case Zach isn't too into public displays of affection. The half dozen or so kisses that you have shared today have been relatively private so you want to respect that for him.

Zach smiles, beams really. “What else do you want, baby?” The term of endearment slips out, but he doesn’t try to take it back or apologize. Feeling like it’s just the natural next step of this amazing day.

While the honest answer is him, that isn't what he's asking so you pull yourself out of the dirty thoughts you've been having on and off all damn day and look back down at the menu. In the top section there is something that lists cheese, fruit, bread, and flavored local olive oil, so you point that out. "Cretan charcuterie plate to start?"

“I think that’s a good idea.” Zach agrees and smiles at you. “We can see if we can come up with our own ideas for a board.”

"We'll have enough menu ideas for three new restaurants if we let our imaginations wander." Which is not a bad thing at all, but it does have both of you grinning when the waitress comes over to take your order.

Zach orders for the both of you, checking in with his eyes to make sure that it’s everything you want and hands the menu over with a pleasant smile for the waitress. Enjoying the knowing glances she shoots between the two of you. “I think that she thinks we are newlyweds or something.” He confesses quietly when she walks away. “What do you think?”

“Maybe.” Don’t be so you, you remind yourself for the hundredth time in your head. “I don’t know how many people come around here being cuddly on a fantastic day-long first date.”

“It has been fantastic, hasn’t it?” He muses, reminding himself that neither one of you has walked away or even been upset today. Not really.

“I think so.” There are clearly more things to talk about in your future, but today has left you optimistic that that future could exist. “I’m glad you do, too.”

“So, what’s your favorite type of wine?” He asks. “With charcuterie? Are you a white wine or sangria girl?”

“I’m a whatever wine you serve me kind of girl,” you tell him with an amused laugh. “But I do love sangria. There are very few things that aren’t made better with a glass of sangria or a margarita.”

“A margarita; huh?” He smirks. “Salt on the rim or sugar?”

“Depends on the flavor.” After all, your palate isn’t nonexistent, it’s just uneducated. “But usually salt.”

“A watermelon margarita is my favorite.” He admits. “Salt and sugar on the rim.”

“Salt and sugar?” That has you raising an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued.”

“It’s delicious.” He chuckles. “Goes with a hamburger or ribs. Drinks just like water.”

“That sounds incredible.” It sounds absolutely mouthwatering, actually, and you crack a grin. “Maybe I’m just really hungry.”

“Next crew party why don’t we do sliders and margaritas?” He offers. “I think you’d love it.”

“It sounds amazing.” You can agree to that without hesitation. “But I would also eat an old sneaker if it came out of your kitchen, so just know I’m always here for your food.”

“So boil shoe leather.” He pretends to make a note and laughs when you shove him playfully.

“You boil shoe leather and I’ll sing scales off key. Our worst work night ever.”

Zach throws his head back and laughs. The deep, belly laugh of a man who is completely convinced that it possible could happen and finds it up-roaringly funny. “You’re perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” He doesn’t need to know that a musical lyric sprung to mind instantly. He doesn’t need to know that you’ve been thinking it for an hour or more now. But you do hope he knows that the absolute affection shining in your eyes is honest and real.

He hums, not exactly able to take a compliment as well as he can give one. Instead he clinks his wine glass against yours. “To being perfect together.” He offers with a smile.

Neither of you take compliments well, you note with a smile, but drink deeply from your glass and enjoy a private smile that he unknowingly completed the thought of the song lyric in your head. “I know you’re supposed to wait until the end of the date to say it,” you set down your glass, thank the waitress when she brings over the first course, and restart your thought after a few seconds. “But I really think we should do this again.”

Zach’s heart leaps at your comment, happy that you have said that. “Well, of course we should.” He agrees, winking at you as he starts to dip a crusty piece of bread into the seasoned olive oil. “But I was thinking maybe we spend a little more time together on the ship when we can?”

"We could always skip the crew parties now and then to have time to ourselves." Following suit, you dive into the cheese board along with him. The cured olives and soft cheese are calling your name. "I wouldn't mind that at all."

“I mainly go to the crew parties to see you.” Zach confesses with a shy smile, offering you the dipped bread after he’s spread a bit of goat’s cheese on top of it.

"I–" Your eyes drop, your whole face heats, and you clear your throat before offering him an olive that you have stuffed with a pinch of soft sheep's milk cheese. "I go to the crew parties to see you."

Zach snorts and shakes his head. “We are pathetic.” He teases. “Mooning over each other and not even aware of it until Shane makes you take me a drink.”

"He tried to tell me," you admit after trying the bite that Zach made for you. Like everything else he's ever fed you, it's perfect. "I just...didn't really think I had a shot."

“He would always talk about you.” He huffs. “Making that crush I was suffering under nearly unbearable.” He smirks. “I guess he was hoping to push me into making a move.”

“And when you didn’t, he pushed me instead.” Which is a very Shane thing to do, really. He’s always been a little bit too cocky for his own good. “He’s like my big brother. So it makes perfect sense that he would meddle endlessly.”

“He basically adopted me once we became roommates.” Zach agrees. “He’s a good guy with a surprisingly big heart.”

“It took him a while to get there,” you acknowledge, not quite knowing how much of Shane’s story he had shared with Zach. “But now that he has? He’ll be damned if he doesn’t help everyone that he can.”

“Yeah.” Zach nods. “From what he’s told me, he’s completely different than when he was first sent away.”

“He showed me a picture once. Oh how he dresses and everything back then.” Just keeping the topic about appearance is lighthearted. That way you don’t dip too far into past seriousness. “Even if that was the only thing that changed, he really is a completely different guy now.”

“Jet black hair.” Zach snorts, shaking his head. “Dude has amazing hair now. I’m a little jealous of it.” Shane still has earrings, but he’s no longer sporting the goth edge he had back in his younger years.

“Do you ever think about growing yours out?” Zach still has short-trimmed hair that is probably a cinch to take care of, but he might look great with it longer.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve worn it long.” He admits, rubbing his hand up the back of his head. “Since high school.” He snorts. “But I’ve not given it a lot of thought, honestly. Why? You think it would look good longer?” He asks, curious about your preferences. Everyone has them, it’s like preferring clean shaven over a beard.

“I caught myself wondering once if your hair was curly when it grows out,” you admit, clearing your throat a little from being flustered. Admitting that you’ve wondered and daydreamed about him is a big step to your mind.

“Yeah?” A slow, pleased grin starts to stretch across his face as he turns back towards you again. “Daydreaming about running your fingers through my hair?”

“Maybe.” The huff in your voice is pure embarrassment, though you’re glad that he seems to like the idea rather than being weirded out by it.

“Then I have to confess something…” he drops his voice down to a whisper like it’s a secret. “I really love when the hairdresser runs her fingers through my hair when cutting it.”

It feels like a far more visceral tease than you’ve been giving him, and you can practically feel how soft his shirt hair is when your eyes flick up to it. “Noted,” you manage to huff out a second later, banishing the mental image of Zach beneath you as you card your fingers through growing curls.

He smirks and winks at you when you manage to look at him again, finding it incredibly empowering to know that you are on the same level as he is. Both of you wanting so much, but being too shy to reach for it. Someone will have to make a move, but right now, he’s enjoying the flirting and bantering.

Neither of you seem to care much that it takes longer to make bites out of your appetizer if you hold hands, enjoying the small show of intimacy more than anything else. You're loathe to give up that connection now that you have it.

Zach enjoys sharing with you. Often making bites for you to try, and he smiles every time you groan in pleasure.

“Just because I have no idea how to cook anything doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it,” you insist, and you’re laughing together when your waitress brings out your shared entree. The large and shallow bowl is obviously meant to be shared but is beautifully arranged — vegetables bringing color with the creamy risotto-like grains and tantalizingly seared and roasted lamb.

“Many blessings.” She is smiling at both of you as she puts the food down between you. “Happy marriage to young love.”

“Thank you.” Zach doesn’t correct her, beaming instead and bringing up your hand and kissing the back of it. If they believe that you are newlyweds, who are you to disclaim it?

Seeing him go with the assumption instead of correcting the woman makes your heart swell. There is something deeply soft and intimate about the gesture and you’re sure you must look so deeply entranced by your date that protesting wouldn’t do any good anyway.

“Soulmates?” The older woman asks, looking at the two of you with the pride of a grandmother.

Zach bites his lip, unsure of how to answer that, so he just wings it. “What do you think?” He asks, reaching out and caressing your cheek. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

"Very." The woman agrees, and with another proud smile she clasps both of your shoulders and heads off again to the kitchen with the purpose and speed of someone off to share vital gossip.

Zach smiles at you. “Well, I guess that makes us official.” He hums. “What do you think?” He asks, lifting a brow. “Want to be my girlfriend? Or should we jump straight to soulmate and wife?” He asks. “We’ve already gotten approval here.”

"It might be a little dramatic to show back up to the ship married." And yet you're grinning. You're absolutely beaming at him in a way that can't possibly be contained and for the first time today you don't want it to be. "But I love the sound of girlfriend."

“I’m sure we wouldn’t have been the first couple to have done that.” He doesn’t take offense to you ignoring the remark about soulmates. He’s seen you without sleeves enough to know that you don’t have his tattoo. You can’t be his soulmate, but he is drawn to you like he’s never been to another woman. “But girlfriend sounds perfect to me too.”

"I'm not one of those people that swears soulmates are the only possible relationship," you explain, as the two of you rearrange your little table to share your entree comfortably. The waitress had also brought you fresh drinks so the little table is loaded down with tantalizing options. "My parents aren't soulmates and they've been happily married for almost forty years. It's a great thing, but I always thought choosing your person yourself was more important than anything else."

“Interesting.” Zach is impressed and he nods. “I know that soulmates aren’t everything, but my parents were.” He tells you, smiling a little sadly. “They were probably the best relationship I’ve ever seen.”

"We both had good role models for healthy relationships. That's far more rare than it should be, I think." You note the past tense in his words but don't push, instead watching as he carefully serves the meal onto the two smaller plates you were given.

The lamb smells amazing and Zach is already drooling, imagining what he could make. “Are you ready to give me ideas?” He teases as he looks up from finishing plating.

"Dinner ideas?" You raise an eyebrow at him and pick up your fork, feeling bold with the help of the waitress who broke the ice and managed to make you Zach's girlfriend with a touch of cute teasing. "Or dirty ideas?"

“I accept all ideas.” Zach promises, his voice dipping down slightly, turning sensual.

"Fuck." Even just a quiet groan of frustration from you is enough to let him know exactly where you're at. Every single time he kisses you, you're convinced that you're going to soak through your shorts, and you no longer care if he knows it or not.

“I’ve been thinking about something.” Zach starts, forking up a bite of the risotto and trying it with a groan of approval.

"Tell me." There have been a few more serious topics touched on today without delving too deep, but you have faith that whatever it is that's on his mind won't be bad.

“We don’t have to be back on the ship until tomorrow morning.” The club is closed for the night while in port since the majority of the passengers are on shore. “What do you think about not going back tonight?”

"Like...find a little hotel?" Your fork is halfway to your mouth when you meet his eyes, seeing that there is the same spark of desire there as in your own. "That would certainly be more comfortable than using one of our bunks after we kick our roommate out," you agree, letting a grin crawl across your face.

“We don’t have to.” He stresses, not wanting you to feel like he expects to spend the night with you.

"I know." But you shrug with just a touch of guilt. "And if you want to wait that's totally fine. But...I definitely want to."

“I want to.” He is quick to reassure you of that. “I really want to. I just—” he bandied about for the right words. “Didn’t want to come off as pushy.”

"Pushy is normally my problem." you promise him. "The other part of Shane's whole 'be less you' advice was not rolling up to our first date and telling you we would make beautiful children." It's still of a hell of a way to come on strong so you laugh it off, but it's true all the same. "You've been anything but pushy, baby."

“You would have beautiful babies with Shrek.” He snorts, shaking his head. “My genes would have nothing to do with it.”

"Don't count yourself out." The grin on your face slides sideways and the two of you dig into your dinner in earnest. "Those curls of yours on a little baby? Cuties."

He blushes slightly, imagining how a baby with you would look. It’s a fantasy that he never even imagined being able to consider just a few years ago. “Only because of you. And most babies are cuties anyway.”

“They are.” That’s just a fact as far as you’re concerned. The two of you continue to eat for another minute or so before your mind catches up with all the possible consequences of that topic coming up and you almost stutter as you reach for your wine glass. “I’m—I’m on birth control, though,” you point out. Like he might think you’re trying to baby trap him on the first date just because you think babies are cute. “That’s…like I want kids eventually but I’m not crazy about it.”

This is happening. Zach swallows a bite of the deliciously fragrant and juicy lamb so he doesn’t choke. “Good. I mean, I would still want to wear a- birth control shouldn’t just be on you.” He tells you. “I’m clean, but I- it’s always good to- you know, uh, be safe.”

“I’m clean too, and if you feel more comfortable with a condom that’s totally fine, I just—” Who knows if more wine is actually a good idea at this point but you take about gulp out of nerves. “I didn’t want you to think I had any motivation for…you know…tonight, other than really liking you.”

He has to laugh at that, reaching for your hand and winking at you. “You’re focusing on your career. I don’t think that your grand plan is to be knocked up by the chef of the club you headline your first contract out.” He promises.

“Well when you say it like that it sounds silly.” And yet? A part of you is certain, beyond any doubt whatsoever, that if it happened you could be such a happy little family.

He smirks slightly and reaches over to brush off a tiny bit of sauce on the edge of your mouth. “So we both know where we stand.” He hums. “Let’s just relax and enjoy where our night takes us.”

******

With the sun set and your meal finished, an intimacy has settled over you and Zach as you sip your coffee together and listen to the busy streets of Knossos bustle with tourists and nightlife. Normally you would be part of that. You would be out with friends or searching out a feeling to get lost in — but today has been so thorough in proving that you can simply get lost in Zach that you don’t want to stray. Everything you could possibly want for your night is right here next to you. And it’s a type of calming feeling that you don’t know you’ve ever felt with another person before.

“That was probably the best meal I’ve ever eaten.” Zach rubs his stomach appreciatively and looks over at you. “Lamb on the menu for the club?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” You’ll eat anything he cooks anyway. But having it be a special memory between the two of you? That’s worth bragging about. “With those whipped carrots you made yesterday? Oh my god.”

“You liked those?” He grins, loving feedback as much as the next person and if it comes from you it makes it even sweeter. “I’ve been thinking about making it a soufflé and putting a topping on it. Similar to a sweet potato soufflé? What do you think? Too much?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a grin spreading across your face. “I’ve never had a soufflé before.”

“You’ve never had a sweet potato casserole?” His eyes widen. “You’re shitting me?”

You shrug weakly, yet can’t help but laugh at how strong his reaction is. “My dad hates sweet potatoes,” you explain between giggles. “We basically ate like toddlers in my house forever, because he only liked four or five foods.”

“Wow.” He chuckles. “So I know what I’m making you tomorrow.” He grins. “Roasted chicken with sweet potato soufflé, creamed spinach and a fresh cranberry compote.”

“We just ate.” Sure, your tone is complaining, but the teasing is clear and sparkling in your eyes. “Why do you have to make me hungry all over again?”

Laughing, he leans over slightly to pull his wallet out to pay. Having cash is something of a safety net to him, although he’s proud of the shiny credit card with a low limit as he builds his credit back up. Offers have started coming for pre-approval of credit limits, but he’s resisted getting one so far. He pays this card off every month like clockwork. “I’ll let you sleep it off first.” He promises.

A different woman comes out with your check and a small folded bag. She smiles when she sees Zach ready to pay, and hands you the bag. “Congratulations,” she explains in a thick but clear accent. “From my grandparents. They’re very flattered you chose their restaurant for your honeymoon.”

Zach immediately feels guilty. “No— nothing is necessary.” He promises, shaking his head. “We are happy to be here. The food was amazing.”

"It's just a few cookies," she promises, apparently charmed by the display of manners. "And we're always glad to have kind guests."

“Everyone here has been wonderful.” Zach smiles as he hands over his card. “Now we just need to find a hotel with people as wonderful.”

"You don't have a place to stay already?" The bill is easily and silently settled with the exchange of a few bills between them and the woman points down the beach to a three-story white building on the edge of the beach. "Dite is a beautiful hotel. Small. But very nice. And you will see the perfect sunrise in your room."

“What do you think, sweetheart?” He asks, turning towards you. “I think it sounds just about perfect, if they have a room available.”

“Small sounds perfect.” In fact, after the bustle of the ship, it sounds like a small relief. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

“I will call for you.” She offers. “Family.”

“That would be wonderful.” You look to Zach for confirmation. “The hotel is my treat. I promise.”

He huffs, frowning slightly at the notion of you paying and there is a grin on the woman’s face as she nods in approval. “I will go call right now and let them know you are coming.” She beams before scampering off.

“It’s okay.” Sensing a bit of hurt pride that you dismiss as typically male, you lean over and kiss Zach’s cheek. “You can buy our breakfast.”

He can’t tell you that it’s because he somehow still looks at someone paying for something – even if it benefits them – as a handout. That is way too deep for this date and probably means he needs to schedule a visit with the VA therapist next time he’s in New York. “Sounds good, sweetheart.” He hums.

It only takes a few minutes for the younger waitress to return, and when she does she is smiling broadly. To Zach she hands a slip with the name and address of the hotel. “They’re getting your room ready now,” she tells you both gladly.

“Thank you.” He smiles. “For everything.”

“Our pleasure.” She assures him, and trots off again after saying good night.

He turns towards you and gives you a searching look. “Are you ready?”

"Absolutely." Considering you can see the hotel from here, you don't mind walking. A stroll through the streets of the ancient city, hand in hand with your newly minted boyfriend? It sounds perfect to you.

Zach scoots out of the seat and holds out his hand to you. “Then let’s walk off this amazing dinner.”

The roads and the beach stretch on longer than you anticipate but the walk is welcome. You're most quiet, enjoying each other's company without the need to fill the air with idle conversation. You take in the city around you and the overwhelming number of tourists. The hustle and the bustle is beautiful, but something about the fact that you can be comfortable in the quiet with Zach brings and unexpected extra layer of intimacy to the night.

Walking hand in hand is intimate, serene. He doesn’t feel the need to make excuses or fill the silence, he just enjoys the way the smiles seem to be just for you as a couple, coming from others who pass you on the streets.

The hotel is clean and bright, and the extended family of the folks who owned the restaurant are as sweet as can be when you check in. They’ve put you in a top floor room facing the ocean and promise you it’s their best, and you and Zach take the stairs up after thanking them once more.

“I feel bad.” Zach muses. “They think we are on our honeymoon.”

“First dates can be just as special as honeymoons, right?” You offer as you make your way down the hall to your room. “I checked their rates online and it was the same as what we paid. So they’re not giving us big discounts or anything. If they had, I would have said something.”

“Good.” He feels better about that and his stomach twists in nervous anticipation. You both had stopped in a little shop where he had purchased a small box of condoms. They feel heavy in his pocket.

“Hey.” The leaden heaviness sits between you as you unlock the door to your room and push it open. Before you even make a move to step inside, you settle your hand on Zach’s arm and offer him a soft, reassuring smile. “Just because we want to doesn’t mean we have to tonight, okay? We can decide to just hang out and cuddle and sleep beside each other and it will still be perfect.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” He asks seriously, trying not to look disappointed, because he doesn’t want that to pressure you.

“Not at all.” You’re quick to assure him of that, pushing open the door and stepping inside. “You just seem…nervous? I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong.”

“Afraid of disappointing you.” He admits with a small huff of amusement at himself as he flashes you a grin. “It’s been a while for me.”

"Then I'm flattered you would choose me to be the one to break that dry spell with." It really is a vote of confidence from him, and you won't take that for granted. Despite the fact that you don't understand how in the hell anyone has ever let him go, you're glad to be the person that is here and ready to see all of the potential he has as a partner.

“I would be fucking crazy not to.” Zach snorts, shaking his head. “Baby you are gorgeous and kind, and everything I don’t deserve.”

"Hey now." You shake your head as you shut the door behind the two of you, flipping the lock and feeling the shiver of anticipation roll through you. But still, hearing him put himself down is the last thing you're comfortable with and when you turn back to Zach you slide your hands up his arms gently. "I wouldn't let somebody else talk about you like that, what makes you think you get to?"

“Habit.” He admits, biting his lip and reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “I’m working on it.”

"I'm here to remind you how incredible you are anytime you need." A strong support system means everything, you learned that the hard way. And you're more than happy to be that for Zach.

“Thanks.” There’s a bit gratefulness and quite a bit of amazement in his eyes as he looks at you. “You are absolutely amazing, you know that?” He asks. “You take my breath away.”

Your hands creep up his arms, sliding around his neck so your fingers can sink into his short, soft hair. "I'd be happy to do that for you literally, if you'd like."

“How would you do that?” He has a pretty good idea, but he wants to hear what you have in mind.

The hum that leaves your lips as you press your body against his is full of promise. "I'd start at the top and work my way down, of course," you tell him, bringing Zach down to meet your lips for a searing kiss.

He can’t help but groan, a grown man melting against you, but he’s already weak in the knees from the passion in just this one kiss. The sense of complete rightness that washes over him as his own arms band around you tighter and he starts to give back to you.

None of the kisses you had shared yet today had been allowed to be this deep. You were in public. You were sharing space with other people. And this is so intensely intimate. It would have felt wrong just to let other people see your naked heart out there on your sleeve. But when it is just the two of you locked safely away in the privacy of a hotel room? You would be a puddle at his feet if it weren’t for the uncanny strength of him holding you tight against his chest.

It’s not hard for his body to respond instantly. He’s already lived most of the day in a state of arousal just being around you. But with the length of your body pressed against his and your tongue coaxing his further into your mouth? He is rock hard and aching. Groaning slightly as he turns both of you towards where the bed should be based on the split second examination of the room earlier.

And just like that you feel ignited. The press of his body against yours as he steers you blindly through around the room is an errant spark that seems to catch on every inch of you. With one hand your fingers card and tug in his hair, nails grazing over his scalp. With the other you pull his shoulders to keep him impossibly close — feeling like you’ll forget to breathe if you stop sharing gasps with him between kisses.

You taste like sweet wine and cream. A perfect combination when mixed with something that is just…you. He can’t describe it, but it’s warm and earthy.

The backs of your legs bump against the bed frame, almost toppling you over and making you hang onto Zach all the more tightly, giggling into the kiss. “Oops,” You can’t help but laugh at how deeply uncoordinated it was, even as out of breath as you are. “Weak knees aren’t very stable, apparently.”

“Then we should lay down.” Zach suggests, grinning against your lips and starting to crouch down.

It doesn’t exactly take convincing. Not when every single time he’s kissed you today has turned you a soaking wet, needy mess. The fact that you finally get to do something about it is exhilarating and relieving all at once. “Hell yes,” you agree, nearly hauling him into the bed with you when you try to kiss him and move at the same time.

He laughs when you both nearly topple over, flopping down on your sides in a move that is not nearly as graceful as he had planned in his mind. “Eager?” He asks. Sliding his hand down your side to your ass.

“Oh, absolutely.” You smirk, but shift your leg ever so slightly so your thigh presses against the front of his shorts. “Just as much as you are.”

“Baby, have you looked in the mirror?” Zach groans, twitching under the pressure. “You’re a complete knockout and fucking sweet as pie.”

“As long as you like what you see, the mirror doesn’t matter.” What you see and what he sees looking at you will never be quite the same, so as long as he likes the version of you that he sees, you’re fine with it.

Zach doesn’t say anything else, he just slowly leans in and presses his lips to yours softly.

It’s such a sweet, gentle gesture that you melt deeper into the mattress. For that one moment there are no thoughts at all left in your head. It’s just Zach and the possibilities.

He follows you, body half covering yours as he lets the kiss deepen slightly. Not too much, but he squeezes your ass gently as he grinds into you.

The roll of his hips earns him a moan, and he swallows it up eagerly so you give him another and hitch one leg up to let him get closer.

He presses deeper into you, slotting his hips between yours as you open up and he gasps into your mouth when his hard cock presses against the heat of your core.

The heat in your belly flares hotter, wicking all the way Down your limbs, and you whimper again because you have no prayer of a coherent sentence or even word in that moment. There’s horny and eager then there’s whatever the hell you are as you grind your hips against his to beg for more.

It’s juvenile, but grinding against you over clothes while he kisses you is the height of eroticism right now. He groans into your mouth before breaking away, wanting to taste every inch of your skin.

He trails kisses along your jaw and throat, making your back arch and stealing your breath all over again. While he begins to travel south you tug at his shirt, trying to tear the damn thing off while your whole body aches for him.

Zach smiles against your skin, cutting his eyes up at you playfully. “You’re too impatient” he teases, pulling away. “Think I’ll blindfold you.”

You pout instantly, but the idea is intriguing enough that you raise an eyebrow at him. “Do I get to see you eventually?”

“Eventually.” He smirks, loving that you are going along with his little idea. “That way you can accurately judge how good I am.”

“I can’t judge your skills with my eyes open?” Delighted to have found him not so very vanilla after all, you let the hand you still have in his hair tug in his curls and grin when he moans.

“You might be overwhelmed by my good looks.” He chuckles and shakes his head. One of the things that made him suggest this is his tattoo. He didn’t want to have a ton of questions about it right now. This wasn’t the time for remembering the past, but enjoying the present.

“Is this a ‘hands off’ situation, too? Or can I at least still touch you?” There are plenty of things you’re willing to try out that you already know you enjoy that people might consider out of the ordinary, but the first time with a new partner you want to feel them in every way.

“You can touch me.” He promises. “I’m just feeling a little shy right now.” He jokes playfully, winking at you. “Don’t want you to get too scared.”

“You have nothing you need to be shy about, but I fully respect having a few hang ups. I’ve got plenty, too.” Reluctantly as you are to take your hands off of him, you reach for your belt instead — or rather, the long sash of fabric that you tied through your belt loops today because you thought it looked a little cuter than a standard belt. “Use this.”

“Are you sure?” He takes the fabric from your hands and holds it up to his eyes playfully.

“I trust you.” You trust him somehow inherently. As though it were as simple as trusting yourself. In a way that sticks in your chest and warms through you like hot cocoa in winter.

He watches you for a moment after pulling the scarf down from his face, “Okay.” He agrees. “I just want this to be something we never forget.”

“I can already guarantee I will never forget any part of today,” you promise him, shivering slightly with anticipation as he settles your former belt gently over your eyes.

He ties it firmly, but not too tight. If you need it off, all you need to do is slip it up your forehead or pull it down. The point of this is to be fun, to explore without judgement and he can’t do that if you are uncomfortable. “Hopefully that’s a good thing and it doesn’t go into your ‘worst dates’ catalog.” He jokes before he slides his hands down to the edge of your shirt to push it up your stomach and drop a kiss right above your belly button.

With every small touch now heightened, your skin tingles with the scrap of his calloused fingers and press of the feather-light kiss. “I don’t fuck on the first date unless it’s a really fucking good date.”

“Me either.” Zach smirks against your skin before he decides to nip your side slightly, laughing quietly when you jump and gasp at the grazing of his teeth. Instead of working down, he decides to work up and nuzzles just under the band of your bra.

One hand blindly makes its way to his shoulder again, grasping the thick cords of muscle there and reminding you just how powerful this broad man is that is being so tender and playful with you. At this point it’s Zach’s game — to explore and to pleasure and to discover — and every point of contact between you is a spark catching fire.

It takes just a second to discover that your bra hooks in the front, to Zach's utter delight, making it easy to unbind your breasts and capture a nipple in his mouth before your shirt is even off or your straps slid down your arms.

The heat and pressure of Zach’s mouth feels boiling even on this warm night, sending you gasping and cursing as you grip his shoulder tighter. If you get any wetter your shorts might outright dissolve, but he would probably consider that a bragging right.

Zach groans against your nipple, loving the little arch to your back, pushing your breast to his mouth more. Offering yourself up.

There is no steady rhythm to any of it as Zach works to take you apart piece by piece. He has a method in his madness, surely, but you are breathless and moaning as he reduces you to a human puddle on the bedsheets. While you can’t see him like this you can definitely feel him, and your hands tug at his shirt again to get that luscious skin-on-skin sensation as he starts to travel down your body.

He takes his time, learning the sensitive spots on your body and enjoying every soft sound he pulls out of your mouth. Until he is dragging your shorts down your legs.

It’s about fucking time says the impatient voice in your head as you squirm in the bed and lift your hips to help him move things along. He’s consented to take his shirt off, at least, so that warmth that rolls off of him in waves can seep directly into your bones. You whimper as the cool breeze of exposure hits your overheated cunt, dripping with need and aching for attention.

“Fuck, you look so pretty right now.” Zach groans at the sight of your wet lips, hair trimmed and manicured. You either were hoping that the night would end this way, or you were very meticulous about your grooming. He’s kind of hoping for the former even though he wouldn’t care if you had done anything. “Baby, you look good enough to eat.”

“Tease.” You whine, trying to sound huffy but only succeeding in strangling another moan when his breath ghosts over your swollen pussy. Even with his hands caressing your thighs, you’re squirming.

It’s been a long goddamn time since Zach has had a pussy in his face, but he loves the musky scent of your wet sex. Making him twitch and groan as he slowly spreads your lips wide for him to drag his tongue up your folds for that first, tantalizing lick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” With your back arching and your fingers tight in his hair, it’s so easy to lose yourself to one little taste.

He makes a sound of pleasure as he flicks his tongue over your clit and comes back for another pass. This time starting lower and letting his tongue tease your entrance before sliding higher.

If you weren’t blindfolded already you might have cum just from the sight of him. His lips and tongue explore while his hands keep you steady, holding you in place so the buck of your hips doesn’t unseat him before he can really get going.

He absorbs your sound, your taste. The very essence of your being, feasted on as he slowly and thoroughly licks through you like a meal he is savoring.

It’s a stunning combination of thorough exploration and eager enthusiasm that has you writing and moaning his name so quickly. You could have had a date yesterday and everything about tonight would already be better. Zach seems somehow to know exactly what you like without asking, reading your signals perfectly air pushing you higher and higher until his name is the only word on your lips.

Zach is completely entranced by the way you respond to his touch, never having a lover he feels so in-sync with. It’s like he’s touched you a million times before rather than just these last few minutes.

The whole world has stopped existing around you. It's just you and Zach and this bed and every new height of pleasure that he keeps building you to. The press of his hands on your hips, the deep push of his tongue, the sharp half-scrape of his teeth near your clit that he's discovered makes you gasp and moan.

“Cum for me baby.” He pulls away to gasp his plea, the need to see you fall apart about to rupture in his veins and make him go mad. His grip tightening on your hips and he dives back into your cunt with the desperation of a man starved that’s reached his oasis.

You don't have to tell me twice, you would say if you could swim through the thick mire of bliss to tease him. Instead, and much more true to the moment, you let out a sobbing moan and beg for just a little bit more to send you over the edge.

He hears the unspoken plea in your whimpers and opens his mouth wider to just devour you. Burying himself into your pussy where his nose is blocked by your mound as he pushes you over the edge and if he died in this moment, he would die blissfully happy.

Your back arches fiercely one more time, lifting your shoulders off the bed as you hit that sharp crest that explodes into your climax. All of your muscles tense and curses spill freely, interspersed with his name and moans entirely without words – until that crest becomes altogether too much, the thread mercifully snaps, and you fall back on the mattress an utterly satisfied puddle.

Zach is slow to pull his mouth away. Savoring the little tremors that race through your thighs and makes your pussy clench against his chin as he laps at your juices one last time before he lifts his head with a groan of satisfaction. “And just think, we’ve only started.” He hums playfully, knowing that the night has just begun.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Zach Wellison #Zach Wellison x female reader #Zach Wellison x you #Zach Wellison x f!reader #Brothers & Sisters #Shane Dio Morrissey #Shane Dio Morrissey x female OC #NYPD Blue #soulmate au #Soulmate Sunday #cruise ship au #first date

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starkidlabs · 2 days ago

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Dirty Rotten Scoundrels Review (well just point that made me smile)

Absolutely loved Hadley and Ramin being carried off stage in a fireman’s carry. And both of them flipping the bird to each other as it occurs. Actually I just enjoyed every time Hadley flipped Ramin off which was like a good 3 times.

Honestly I think I half swooned every time Hadley sung (as is always the way). But the ‘More We Dance’ definitely made me swoon the most. Hadley honestly has so much charm as an actor that has not be highlighted in the shows he’s been in as of late. I also loved ‘Love Sneaks In’ absolute goosebumps.

Ramin’s stand out number for me was definitely ‘Great Big Stuff’. Honestly so energetic and fun. Dabbing and flossing included.

I will not be surprised if Ramin walks away with several bruises the amount of times he threw himself on the floor.

Comic timing was also absolutely impeccable throughout both from Hadley and Ramin. I felt like Hadley’s definitely leant more towards good ol’ British dry humour as well as some great accents. While Ramin shone with the slapstick stuff and the general brashness of his character.

It also made me smile so much to see Hadley play a genuinely good role in a musical again. One with a compelling narrative and good numbers. And it was great seeing him have so much fun with the role.

It also made me genuinely so happy to have Hadley call him self perfect all the time and comment on how attractive he is (in character of course) because honestly yeah he is!

And finally it was just so fantastic seeing Ramin and Hadley act opposite each other. I haven’t ever seen that irl and god it was amazing. They have so much chemistry with one another that every line they spoke felt so natural and you could just see the mutual enjoyment in every scene. And there is nothing I enjoy more than seeing an actor break character from laughing. Because Ramin definitely could not stop laughing while Hadley was ‘torturing’ him. I think they have such a special form of chemistry, such a good bond that I want to see them act in a 100 shows together and I definitely have a couple of ideas as to what.

#oh and it was hilarious when Freddie (Ramin) kept calling Lawrence (Hadley) old because Ramin is older than Hadley #it was just so good #Hadley Fraser #ramin karimloo #dirty rotten scoundrels

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cosmicsponge2004 · 2 days ago

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Random Lore and Trivia from SONIC RIVALS 2 (2007)

Let's just jump into it

Tails has been training with Sonic to keep up and is faster now (2007-Present) then he was previously (1992-2006)

Due to Eggman Nega in this game, Silver temporarily had to deal with ANOTHER Future on fire

luckily Silver & Espio, Shadow & Metal Sonic, Sonic, & Knuckles defeated the ifrit (somehow, this game's narrative progresses weirdly) preventing yet another timeline of Silver living in Hell

On the same topic, Silver & Espio form a close bond. This marks the second time that Silver and Purple character with yellow eyes saved the future from a fiery inferno. The first Being Silver & Blaze in 06 (which they don't remember btw for anyone behind on sonic)

This Silver & Espio dynamic actually briefly returned in the IDW Comics in one of Silver's few good moments (Not a huge fan of Soft Twink woobified Silver after playing Rivals & 06 since he's just annoying and looks strange but this scene was fun)

One more Silver thing, his primary character trait in 06 & the Rivals Duology (I also hear colors and Olympics ds but I haven't played those) is just how blunt he is towards everyone. Far more than Shadow and Sonic. This was also somewhat seen in 06 with his frustration with Amy but it's more prominent in Rivals. The duology has an issue of making everyone meaner than they should be but Rivals 2 tries to let their personalities shine above that (Sonic, Tails, & Espio are completely normal)

Here are some scenes that just felt right to me

Ok FINAL SILVER FR!! In the end of Silver & Espio's story, they leave Eggman Nega with his legs stuck under rumble in the evil ifrit portal. It is unknown how Eggman Nega ever escaped but he later appeared in a Japanese Sonic Channel comic about Blaze in 2016 so I guess he didn't die.

The Rivals games show that Metal Sonic in his non-overlord form, cannot speak but he is also alot less independent and now Metal Sonic has these weird clanky voice lines here and in the Olympics. I blame Dr. Eggman

Speaking of Eggman Nega, lemme explain him based on what I gathered from Rush, Rivals 1&2, Rush Adventure, and Sonic Channel

Read below

Eggman Nega is descendant of Eggman from sometime in the future. In Rush, he teams up with his ancestor (Dr. Eggman) to cause chaos for the Sol Dimension and Sonic's world (I like to call it the Chaos Dimension) Nega pretends to be an inhabitant of the Sol Dimension in Rush for unknown reasons. In Rivals he causes chaos in the standard past

Eggman Nega blames his failures on his Ancestor and by Rivals 2 just completely hates that idiot Eggman (I think he also had animosity towards him in Rivals 1, I forgor)

The main thing that separates Eggman Nega from Dr. Eggman in every game he's in except Sonic Rush, is that Dr. Ivo Eggman Robotnik wants to rule the world as a machine centric dictator (in the classic genesis games and Rush Adventure through colors, he wanted an evil themepark).

Meanwhile Eggman Nega only craves destruction and chaos and is much more unconventional. In Rivals he tries to turn the planet into a card. In Rush Adventure after his plans fail, he attemps to fire his "planet buster laser" to blow up the planet completely (not just the Shattered earth Eggman would later make in Unleashed) but is stopped by Marine, Super Sonic, & Burning Blaze, and in Rivals 2 he awakens the ancient Ifrit to burn everything (Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, and Rouge still think Eggman did that because they missed all the Nega reveals)

Eggman Nega also makes his own Metal Sonic here. "Metal Sonic Version 3.0" (pronounced 3 point zero, not 3 point oh)

Archie fans may notice that this guy's paint job was stolen verbatim by Shard in those comics

Finally, Sonic Rivals 2 showcases Espio communicating with Vector but not Charmy

On the topic of Espio, not counting comics the only media he's in without Metal Sonic is Sonic X & Shadow the Hedgehog.

All his other debuts are pretty metal centric. Chaotix, Fighters, Heroes, Rivals 2, Mobile Games. He hasn't been major since

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zepskies · 1 day ago

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Ahaha that is a great gif @lamentationsofalonelypotato! Diving into the rest of your lovely comments...

I mean, I'm sad that it's coming to a close, but I'm hoping that in the future there might be a fic with a little Elijah (or a little Jude) running around. 😏

I was also sad to get to the end, but tbh I still had ideas even after writing the ending. So you might be on to something there with a little Elijah... 😘

I love the little details about him and Benny pranking each other, but it really just made me sad because Dean left them 😭 But at the same time they are opening up with one another and sharing their life stories and I couldn't be happier.

It's bittersweet, isn't it? 🥲 On the one hand, bonding. On the other hand, it's a memory of everything Dean's left behind.

Again I stan a strong woman and Mila is just so stinking badass that I love her so much. Also yes girl, PROTECT 👏🏻 YOUR👏🏻 MAN👏🏻

Hahaa I love her too!! 🥰 100% She's gotta protect her man, even if she's not totally sure he should be her man yet. 😝

Love that you're referencing the honorable choice title here, and showing that Dean is a man of honor and that he did make a choice that maybe messed up his life, but he cared more about doing the right thing. And I think you did a great job of titling the series and the chapters in general. Each one corresponds beautifully to the themes in the chapters so you should be proud!

Aw thank you so much!! I try my best to create meaningful story titles and chapter titles, and making room for those moments that reflect the major themes of the story. "Choice" is of course the biggest theme in this story, as it could be for every story--characters making decisions that push the story forward and help define their character.

I know that something dramatic is about to happen and that I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I just love height difference so much😭. When a guy is bigger than his girl oh wow it sends me to the moon. I think it's so cute and goodness the cuddles must be so fun.

LOL I love it!! I absolutely love the height difference thing too. 😏 I'd imagine the spooning is the best!

Again, devastating moment, but... SHE SAID HIS NAME FOR THE FIRST TIME! And the running her fingers through his hair?!?!?!?!

She said his name for the first time!! That moment after the river was probably my favorite scene to write, since it's the first time they truly explore their connection. 🥰

I'm cackling. I love Mila so much. The sass, the teasing. Oh goodness they're so cute and I am so scared that there's going to be a last minute perilous situation and somebody is gonna die.

Ahaha don't be too scared! I'm all about happy endings, and I'm so glad you're loving their dynamic. 💜

Also him respecting her when she said that she doesn't have sex before marriage is just so HONORABLE AND WORTHY and why can't there be men that respectful all the time? Dean Winchester is really just ruining other men for me everywhere. 😭

Ughh right?? Dean is just a Good Man, no matter how much he doesn't see it in himself sometimes.

So... the face squishing is a family trait I see. But man, Dean standing there while a random lady just squishing his face while his eyes are wide in horror is so funny to me.

Ahaha I'm so glad you caught that! It was such a funny visual to me too, and I felt like it was something that would happen to Dean. 😂

This bit is so good. It's so true and honest and a little heart breaking, but it's such a wonderful thing for them to talk about, because Mila knows that he's thrown away his life to save hers. And it's so wonderful that he's able to give her that confirmation and reassurance that he doesn't regret the choice he made. Because it was the right choice, the -AHEM- Honorable Choice lol 😂

Aww thank you. There are a lot of bittersweet moments in this, and this is one of them. But like you said, I felt it was important for them to have this moment where she acknowledges what he's done for her, as well as gauging if he holds any resentment. Of course, Dean doesn't regret his choice. 😉

Oh this chapter was so good my sweet friend! I'm a little sad to see that it's ending, but it was so wonderfully written and neither of them died. I was really scared about that 😅. AND it ended with a wedding (sort of?). Now little Elijah can run around the camp helping his mother and learn how to break in horses with his father. ❤️

Thank you very, very much my wonderful friend!! 😭 I'm too much of a hopeless romantic to have either Dean or Mila die. I researched into wedding customs for the Lakota people at this time, and apparently until Christianity reached their culture, they didn't have formal "weddings" in the sense that we know them today. It was more of, as long as the man got the blessing of the woman's father (and gave a nice gift), the couple would pair off and from then on live together as husband and wife.

Safe to say, Dean didn't get the chance to go about that custom lol, but there are other cultural elements I would want to explore in future chapters--along with them having a kid!! I LOVE the idea of Dean finding his role in the tribe by helping take care of/break in the horses. 💕💕

Thank you again so much for reading!

The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...

Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

They travel together for two more days. Dean isn’t really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.

He tells her about growing up on his family’s farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.

“She tamed him,” Mila remarks with a smile. Dean’s lips quirk in response.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles, “but he knew he couldn’t pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. She’s a real pistol when she’s gotta be.”

Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life.

He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Dean’s morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.

Dean managed to smooth things over though. He’s always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.

Mila admits that she and her cousin Šóta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the “free mind” her mother dreamed about.

The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens.

On the third day, it’s nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, they’ve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.

“My tribe lives beyond the river,” she says, “but the current is strong now.”

Dean looks over at her. A question he hasn’t wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

He’s still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesn’t have many options. It’s either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. He’s not sure how long he could survive in wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.

In the past three days, it’s taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. He’ll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. It’s a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be.

He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides deep inside, where she won’t see it.

“All right, the current doesn’t look too bad over here,” he says, pointing to farther north along the river. “The horses can make it.”

Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.

The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until they’re submerged into the water up to their waists.

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

That’s why he’s able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.

Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Baby’s reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Mato’s reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.

Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotcha,” he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.

She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Mato’s neck. Without her weight, he’s able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.

Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God he’s a strong swimmer.

Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see it’s a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.

A waterfall.

Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesn’t know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesn’t want to know. All he’s trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.

She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all she’s worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.

This time, it’s Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.

A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.

He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Mila’s familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.

She smiles in relief.

He realizes that he’s lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. She’s taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.

The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. There’s a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. He’s heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most he’s taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors.

Dean’s never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

“It’s night,” she says. “You slept for a long time.”

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble.

“Thank you,” she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.

Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.

She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like it’s shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly.

Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.

“Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says.

Her brows raise. “No?”

“Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man.”

“Toothsome. I don’t know this word,” she admits. “Am I supposed to eat you?”

Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.

It’s difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Mila’s cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.

He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.

She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

“I can’t,” she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.

“I am not…how you say, married. I have to be…”

Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Chaste?” he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.

“Yes,” she says. “In the eyes of my people, it is…”

“I get it,” Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Really, I understand,” he says.

His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.

This time, he’s a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.

Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?

Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than he’s ever felt.

It’s harder than he might’ve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he won’t be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesn’t show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.

“This looks good,” he says, clearing his throat. “What kinda fish is this?”

With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.

That night, Mila dreams.

She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky.

When she wakes, the fire has gone out and it’s still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s safe. Finally safe.

And she’s lying securely in Dean’s arms.

She’s no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize…

Her heart has already chosen.

“Kimmímila, what have you done?” her uncle asks in the language of their people.

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

Mila’s father, Chatan, and her cousin Šóta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chief’s large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge what’s happening. He doesn’t understand a word of any of it.

“You’ve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!” Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.

Mila steps forward, despite her mother’s embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribe—because even a horse’s spirit should not be broken by greed.

“Uncle, I’ve told you the story, though you don’t want to believe it,” she says. “Dean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.”

She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.

She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness she’s ever possessed in her life. She feels it’s led her to exactly this moment.

“And we are one,” she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.

“You would take it that far?” he asks.

Her face doesn’t change. “It’s already done.”

Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silence…he releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they don’t let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

“You prove yourself to be a man with honor,” he says in English. “Kimmímila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?”

Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how he’ll react. She’s not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.

“No, sir. I don’t deny it,” Dean says.

“Then, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,” Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."

Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.

“Is that it?” he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if he’s honest.

“Almost,” she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.

Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. “Sir.”

Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean.

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Mila’s hand and heaves a deep sigh.

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance.

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs.

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life.

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.”

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter!

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

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twrk11 · 3 days ago

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hello ,, hehe ,, i just came across ur acc and i love how you write for towa ,, is it okay if i ask for nsfw headcanons for taiga fico leo sho ren haku and jin (am more hoping for taiga leo haku and ren if you only write a specific amount of chars) , where mc is like real submissive for them in front of others, but in closed doors mc is dom hevfhbenfbeneb (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠) ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡ feel free to ignore if it makes u uncomfy 🩷

NSFW Tokyo Debunker Headcanons & short fic | 18+

Characters : Taiga, Leo, Ren, Haku

Hello anon!! Glad you’re here ☺️!! Thanks so much for liking the Towa fic, I feel honored! I really did like this idea, I hope I fulfilled it the way you wanted!! This is personally my first time ever doing an ask so thank you for this!

I originally was going to do all the ones you mentioned but.. I ended up having too much fun. Took me a while to write all that I wanted! Perhaps i’ll revisit and do the other three?

(Apologies if some are longer than others! ~ 😢)

Content : All is of course consensual! No mention of readers gender, Smut, mentions of oral, riding, pegging, sex, begging, mention of a collar, brat, sub!characters, dom!reader, punishment, humiliation, bondage

words: 1415

Read under cut!

Taiga

-Definitely confused him the first time !

-You were so cute sitting on his lap at the poker table.. How did he end up fucked out of his mind?

-You were such a good submissive kitty.. He couldn’t help but think about pounding you until you were sobbing on how good it felt.

-He wants you to do it more though. He loves seeing you bounce on his cock. You’re so.. Eager,

-Don’t tease him, he will be angry and give you the nastiest glare he can muster (If he’s not fucked out)

-Grunts for sure, might be able to squeeze a whimper out every so often.

-If you don’t restrain him, he will claw and scratch at you.

-.. put a collar on him. Might piss him off but he’d also make such a cute kitty~!

-don’t get too close to his mouth, he might bite. He’s feisty.

“Gghh-“ He’d grunt, his brows furrowed. He’d jerk his hands, god those handcuffs pissed him off to no end. He’d glare at you, purposefully trying to rut his hips up into you harshly. He wanted to be in control! God- but when you slapped him when he did so.. he couldn’t lie, his cock twitched and throbbed. He wouldn’t warn you if he was about to cum, I’m .. quite frankly not so sure he could. But he certainly has tell tale signs!

“Mh~” A small whimper escaped his throat. Oh he might burst-!

“Go on.. you can cum~” you’d coo, gently running your hands on his chest.

He’d erupt immediately, his eyes shut as he couldn’t help the whines. His hands would shake, then he’d open his eyes, too dazed to even think.

Leo

-You were submissive in public—! It was perfect for his social media!!

-When you showed up in his videos and acted the way you did- you were so cute..

-It had helped fuel any of his fans desires at the thought of Leo being dominant. Really brought in the views!

-… how did he end up eating you out/sucking your dick with you calling him a good boy?

-either way.. he’s a brat. So fucking annoying

-He’d threaten to blackmail you.

-watch out, he miiiight try to spit on you.

-Just show him his place, might take a bit but he will eventually be broken down and a sobby mess for you~!

-He’d be so good at begging, and he loves to, even if he doesn’t wanna admit it

-He loves being restrained, please do so.. He wants to feel helpless.

-He’s loud.. like.. really.. really loud.. Moaning, whining, whimpering.

-He’d try to be quiet but eventually he can’t contain it—! You might have to help shut him up if he’s too loud..? Or you could let him be.. it’d humiliate him with how loud he is.

-Oh.. he’d hate to admit he loves being humiliated.

-Ride him, peg him/fuck him, he honestly loves it all, anything to get him a mess.

“F-Fuck-! M-Mmh~” He sobbed, he tried to not jerk his hips. Aahh.. but he couldn’t help it-! It felt like he had no control- over the situation or his body. Who would’ve thought you’d make him the pillow princess?

“I-Im gonna cum~!” He cried, he came immediately as soon as the words fell from his mouth.

.. Did you allow him to cum..? I don’t recall you ever did..? Don’t forget to punish him— Otherwise he will think he can do whatever he wants!

Ren

-He honestly quite liked how submissive you were in public. It made you so easy to tease and .. he’s mean.

-He got a real kick out of making fun of you!

-You were so agreeable and did whatever he asked, download a game and enter the referral code? You did it in a heartbeat! You were so eager to please!!

-.. Now he has to beg.. Fuck- he didn’t want to do that. That’s.. humiliating.

-Expect back talk. He’s definitely a brat.

-.. He will end up begging. And eventually he will be no stranger to it. The words really just can’t seem to help themselves other than to tumble out of his mouth.

-Oh he’s a whiner. He whimpers sooooo good.

-Please don’t restrain him— He NEEDS to grab onto something to keep him grounded.

-Whether that’s you or the sheets doesn’t matter he needs something, anything.

-(though I do believe he wouldn’t like touching much during sex just based on how he acts- I do think he has certain times and parts of the body he’s happy to have contact with. Does that make sense?)

-He definitely is a crier, it feels just too good.. he can’t help it.

“Fuck no! I’m not begging for you-“ .. Or so, that’s what he claimed. Slap him around a bit, toy a bit with his nipples. Oh, of course his nipples are sensitive. He’d shiver- it felt so so good-

“Why’d you stop..?” His voice was out of breath. His cock was so tight against his pants, this is not fair- Why were you playing games right now?

“Beg. You want more?” You’d demand, but would be met with a scoff. Didn’t he already tell you he’s not doing that? Who even put you in char- his cheek stung. His nipples hardened, as he felt his cock dribble out precum. No way he just got turned on from you slapping him— right? .. Tease his nipples a bit more, punish him until he finally begs. He’ll eventually learn that begging can get him everywhere!

“P-please~ C-cum-“ He can barely speak, just hiccup and sob words out, with his hands moving between gripping the sheets and your waist. His tears slowly slide down his cheeks- he’s so needy.. and once given permission he really can’t hold back anymore.

“Mm-mh~! M-MC-!” He sobbed your name as he came- his voice cracking.

Haku

-Oh you were just adorable when you reacted to his flirting.

-He really loved to tease you! He couldn’t help but imagine how you’d be in bed.

-He was so forward, and you were shy, obviously flustered easily. How could you not be submissive?

-.. Well.

-He was sorely mistaken, hm?

-He couldn’t help but love the view of you riding/fucking/pegging him, but goodness, his neck throbbed with all the times you bit him—!!

-He moans for sure, he’s quite loud too. Grunts and whines every now and then.

-He’d still tease you, he can’t help but be oh so forward with you.

-If he’s fucked out, he can’t help but look at you with a dazed expression- mumbling out how much he wants more.

-He’d LOVE to run his hands all over your body, he wants to connect with you in whatever way he can.

-He really wishes he could ravage you- you’d be so so cute.. Ah but your expression now.. He can’t deny how it makes his dick throb and ooze out pre-cum.

-He’s well behaved! But he will for sure be a bit of a brat. He can’t let you have it too easy can he? Though.. he’d happily do whatever you want, he just wants to satisfy you!

-He’s a massive slut, please make him cum over and over again. He doesn’t care if he’s overstimulated, he needs more. He’s insatiable.

-Loves praise! He craves knowing if he’s a good boy.

-Can’t help but love degradation as well, makes him feel so dirty. He really just wants to be your bitch.

“O-oh fuck— MC-“ He moaned as his lids seemed to flutter shut. You rolled your hips, just the way he liked. He let his hands roam over your body, gently caressing it .

“Please go faster baby- Mmh~” He slightly whined. He wanted you to use him- if it made you happy please do so. He really truly just wanted to be your whore.

“Yeah? Like that? Such a slut, begging for more. Mm- You’re such a good boy for me.” You whispered in his ear as you sped up, causing him to shiver and his cock twitch. When your hand wrapped around his neck and gently applied pressure, mixed with the soreness of all the hickeys littering his skin, he couldn’t help cum.

“F-fuck~! MC-! D-don’t stop please—“ He cried out- he needed more. Just truly drain him dry, he’d cum for you as much as you like.

#smut #tokyo debunker ren #tokyo debunker haku #tokyo debunker taiga #tokyo debunker leo #tokyo debunker x reader #headcanon #tokyo debunker headcanons #tkdb x reader #gender neutral reader #tkdb #tokyo debunker smut #dom!reader #sub!character

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skeletinmoss · 3 days ago

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Let's talk about Sanders Sides and why it should end.

Disclaimer: this is my opinion, I don't have any malicious intentions by voicing it, please don't harass me or people working on the show as the result of reading this rant. You can just stop reading if you don't like what I am saying.

Thank you for understanding.

I myself only joined the fandom 3 years ago. Along the years there has been a lot of content and I was captivated immediately. The characters are the main thing of this fandom and I would like to talk about them first.

They started to not be themselves. Maybe it's now that obvious when you watch one new episode every year, but for someone who just showed up and binged it it's quite noticeable.

There is a thing that happens to every character in every long term content (I'm sorry I can't remember how it's called). With time they become parodies of themselves. And as the time goes on they become more and more simple. That can change the character drastically. Someone who was street smart becomes a character that you can't believe is still alive with how stupid they are.

The same thing is starting to happen is Sanders Sides. It's basically a running gag that Logan lost all his whimsy and is gonna snap at any time. This is the example of simplification, what is left of him is only his core elements. Logic, no feeling, smarty pants, facts, jam. However it ties into the story quite well. No one listens to logic. It makes us invested in how this unnoticed before conflict would be resolved.

With Patton it's not the same. He used to be innocent. An adult who doesn't want to grow up. He was relatable. Maybe it's because Thomas is older now, but the innocence in Patton's character started to come of as ignorance. He used to come of as deeper than at first glance, smarter than you give him credit for. Now he just acts stupid. A guy who can set water on fire. A guy who doesn't even try to confront reality. He was supposed to get character development. Where is it?

Virgil started to be more cringe and boring. He's emo and his character trait is to act like an angsty teen. However now it's more of an adult pretending to be a teen. You can most see it in the Jam video where he tries to do skateboard tricks and we can see his boxers sticking out. Why would you do this? He used to be sassy, he used to be arrogant villain who can't get rid of. He got excepted, and despite the Halloween episode about the phases, and him saying " It's still my job to scare you" we don't ever see him do it. He hangs around I guess, but he lost all his bark and bite. All that's left of him is just moody.

Roman likely didn't change that much. His original chaotic nature masks any changes so far. Although I would say Roman lost quite a bit of his drama and sass. Being sick because the ego was bruised, starting a rap battle just to prove a point and show off, singing and " Making the song 10 times better" in his opinion, freaking out because a person he ships Thomas with has called him back. In flirting with social anxiety he does freak out because of the cute guy, which is very Roman, but it's a bit strange that the embodiment of pure creativity would not find words to finish a poem. ( I have my questions with him in the nostalgia episode like playing the instrument poorly even if he showed he can draw a Mona Lisa with crayons, or not allowing Thomas to demonstrate the dance, but I'm just gonna put that under " Possibly Janus pretending to be Roman")

And Remus and Janus wasn't here long enough to start to fall apart. Although I don't think Remus would actually be able to fall apart as a character because of his chaotic nature.

The second thing I want to discuss are sponsorships.

I am happy that Thomas gets the money and has the opportunity to get more. But did he had to put characters into the sponsorship?

The jam one was fun. It was a joke what turned true. A running gag. But it also gave the community something to interact with. Four new jam flavours, characters on the package, limited sets. You could try something your favorite character likes!

There were good sponsorships on Thomas's chanel before. Like Hello Fresh. He did the advertising as himself, not as characters. It wasn't so in your face. And that's how it should be. He wasn't begging for you to buy it. He was simply sharing a good thing he uses. It wasn't loud and obnoxious. Even if it wasn't as entertaining as the jam musical or character jam merch, you still felt like you could buy it. The food looked good!

It's not the same with VPN, now is it? I would not get any character interactions if I buy this thing. So why are the characters involved? Because I like them and it would be easier to sell me something if They tell me to buy it? Why are you so pushy for me to buy it?

We all are waiting for the season finale. Something grand. Something epic. Something to finish the story. But I don't think Thomas should start another season. He would probably be tempted to, because of the new character involved, but that might not be a good decision. I'm not saying he should stop with the Sides altogether. But I feel like short video format would suit the characters better from now on. No big plots, no storylines, just characters interacting with each other in different situations.

Finish it. Put a stop to the story. All good things need to end. Don't drag it out or you will ruin what we love so much about those characters. It would turn into 8 seasons of Winx instead of the planned 3.

Give them their happily ever after.

I hope I'm not coming of as rude, because I don't meat it in a rude way. I just have things that are bothering me that I want to talk about with someone and see if other people think the same

#sanders sides #thomas sanders

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just-some-friendly-fun · 3 days ago

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✦ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ

: ̗̀➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ #: ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ (OC x Canon)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: The days that follow after the dawning truth that befell Iacon, and the waste that had been laid as a result of the new leaders of Autobots and Decepticons have now stirred a mutlitude of reactions amidst the people of Iacon. Some feel betrayed and others angry over the lies they'd been fed their whole lives, and even some stir in denial as a result of their false Prime and all he'd done... While others bear a more personal wound after his termination.

■ ᴛᴀɢꜱ/ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: HUGE TF: One Movie Spoiler!! Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt, Character Grieving Over a Character's Death, Graphic Violence (Gore), Assault (someone gets a bottle thrown at them), Sentinel Prime & D-16 Megatron are mentioned, but only appear in flashbacks.

✎ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6,869

ׂ╰┈➤ A/N (if needed): Felt like putting one of my OCs into the emotional meat-grinder for fun, and also I'll post a song that I listened to while writing these, because yanno. Also, if I do need to tag anything else please lmk. This is sort of my rough first-time posting smthn like this, so lmk what you think!

▶︎ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: ᴍᴏʀᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ - ᴀꜱʜᴇ

Three.

Weeks.

It had been nearly three weeks

Three weeks since the fall of Sentinel, when he had finally been shot down for flying too high where he should've never gone in the first place, and ended up crashing violently back onto Cybertronian soils as his plummet burned him alive and seared his frame.

Seared every part of his legacy, his influence.

His reputation and face once so boldly plastered onto every wall and holographic transmission, now torn down by servos once so welcoming and worshipping of their false God... Now turned to claws that dug angrily to tear off his face, his mark on Iacon, his history.

And maybe it was all deserved in the end, it really was--some way or other.

Memories of the day arrived in a constant fold, time and time again, washing over what little peace she had since the loss. It would often come to tear at her again when she had thought too much--and far too long on it, more than she was willing to admit.

Sunblitz wished she never did think on it sometimes, wished she hadn't been there during the execution, wishing that she didn't have the exact front row seats to his public execution that never stopped to remind her day in and out on what the color of Sentinel's frame looked like when his t-cog was torn out from him.

Or was it ever really his t-cog to begin with?...

Sunblitz's talons dragged further into her berth as it let out a weak scream from the metal to metal contact. Her pain bleeding into the desire to hurt what couldn't speak. To destroy something when her entire life had been practically wrecked in itself, the fault befitting more to the cup of her servos than any other.

She closed her optics and rendered herself locked in her own berth, her coffin of sorts, and waited for the rust to settle in, beginning first where her spark laid beating still--painfully so.

The flier tried to keep her optics shut tight, before re-opening them again, then closed, then open, a constant dance out of the darkness casted by her eyelids and to the shadows she casted over herself as she hid from the world beneath a tarp.

She was trying to furiously eradicate the memory from her processor core manually, time and time again as she writhed uncomfortably, merely pushing the recollection back only for it to have struck her back harder, running away and only to be captured and let go again.

✦ ✦ ✦

"No!.. No--!! Please! Please! Stop! Stop!" Sunblitz screamed, helplessly dragging herself on the floor, claws reaching to the open air as several of the golden death trackers and guards lay beside her in a heaping mess. Each of the polished plating reflected the appearance of her dreadful look as coolant furiously spilt from her faceplate to follow the tear-like designs already pre-made upon her looks, now giving them a real purpose, to no longer imitate for the sake of art.

Pain gripped at her very frame, seeping into the wires and plaguing her systems with a hot sensation that made it unbearable. She could feel the shock settling in as she pushed herself across the ground with the exposed axis of her legs, the exposed wires trailing along. She choked back a cry with every time the raw wound touched to the ground. Her legs were strewn about elsewhere by the hands of D-16, a cost of her duty--but by accordance to his views, a cost for intervening in this public execution.

No.

Not D-16.

Something far worse than Sentinel could've ever been in her optics. By the hands of a--a monster in his place.

She crawled pathetically with desperation, the pain of her missing legs searing through her sensors with every drag as she pathetically moved with desperation to stop D-16 while he lifted Sentinel into the air for all of Cybertron to see.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go... This shouldn't end like this.

"No..! No!! No--Please!!" Her voice rang shrill, a shattering pitch that went unheard. Sentinel was lifted higher and higher, the Prime's mouth agape once the silver mech behind him began to fasten his grip around one half of his body and then the other before a loud, sickening wail of stretched metal sounded in the air, slow and torturous.

"STOP!--"

A cacophony of limbs, wiring, and steel flesh began to split as the city of Iacon fell first to hearing Sentinel's choked screams of agony, followed by bloodlust-filled hollers and cheers below somewhere amidst the exiled. His helm tilted further back, his servos unable to stop himself from breaking into two as he was split apart by servos fueled with rage. This was the end.

Her optics had met to his, and every part of her screamed in her mind--get up!

GET.

UP.

But the painful truth took hold to her. She wasn't going to make it. She couldn't do a thing in this state but watch, helplessly with her optics torn wide open to remember this moment vividly, for the rest of her life. She should've looked away, saved herself the addition of another drowning tidal wave of pain until, for the briefest moment Sentinel had left, he spoke up, and out rolled a final lie to the world, to her.

"It's... Alright-" He choked, ".. It's gonna be okay-"

His words no longer existed, cut short, and abrupt, followed by a crash of metal and snapping circuitry, and wires that filled the air. It was still day and yet with every spark that flew across her vision and crackle of electricity, for a moment. She thought she was seeing the stars to the universe die out.

And then, she was no longer looking at optics lit with life anymore, as his body--a part of it-- fell before her and it took...

One.

Two.

Three flickers.

Before the rings in the lens of his optical receptors went out one by one, until he had finally been rid from the world, lips parted in a silent scream that Sunblitz herself couldn't have voiced for him as her vocalizer had been strained to its limit, leaving every choked cry to befell her to become agonizing.

Even when his death wasn't enough. Sunblitz lifted her helm to watch while Megatron proceeded forth, unsatisfied yet of his slaughter. He began to reach down, tearing open the chassis and into the chest cavity again to feast upon the rewards that lie waiting for him. Sentinel Prime was soon desecrated, robbed of the very thing he stole from another, Megatronus' t-cog now befitting to the new brutal revolutionist who preached to his followers below.

Her spark hammered against her chassis, the echo ringing in her audial receptors at the sight and she felt a stinging urge in the back of her throat to throw up, force everything out as her tears were the first to begin spilling from her in rapid streams. In her last morsels of strength, she crept forward, sliding close enough to pull what remained back to her, and to reap the scavenged remains, holding close while it was already beginning to dim into a cold, gray design. She held to his body, offering a warmth that was meaningless, pleas left unheard, gripping to it.

Sunblitz sobbed into the side of his helm and lifted it carefully off the floor and laid it against her, to find some meaning to the weight and to trick herself into believing, despite the odds, he was alive... Even for a moment, shredding her sense of reality just for a droplet of delusions. It didn't help when the weight had grown a smidgen lighter, cold.

She didn't know what compelled her to say it, but as her spark began to wring itself dry from the twisting threads of her own emotions, she spoke up.

"Don't... Don't you dare leave me like this, Sentinel Prime..." She silently sobbed, "Don't you dare... Go," Before burying her faceplate into the crook of his neck.

✦ ✦ ✦

An abrupt knocking came at the door, violently yanking Sunblitz from the cycle of pain Sunblitz had thrown herself within as she pushed up to her knees, her fore-helm against the berth. She waited.

"Sunblitz. Open up. You can't stay in there forever,"

At the voice of her carrier, Sunblitz shifted further into the blankets as if to hide from an unseen gaze. She was beginning to feel the tarp she concealed herself with grow taut against her wings. It tangled and snagged onto several nooks and crannies along her frame. A soft creak of her body became her only response, and in turn, another knock came harder than the last.

"Sunblitz." Voltcharge began, and from there. Voltcharge didn't have to start any further on her lectures or demands.

Sunblitz knew better.

So, with aching resistance, she slowly untangled herself and yanked on the tarp, attempting to throw it off of her frame but only stopped from her harsh throws and pulls once it snagged sharply on the parts between her arms and wings. A trickling sensation of pain seeped with the tight lock she found herself in, forcing her to halt abruptly.

She grimaced, forced to be gentle to herself as she searched her frame for the snag, and slowly unloosened the tangled tarp from the space in-between her gears, before resuming. Her fight became a loss. Her optical receptors slowly adjusted to the dark silhouette of her room, only illuminated by the slight crack that remained ajar by the curtain-covered glass wall that led out to the balcony of her room. She stepped out of her berth, and let out a ragged sigh, breathing in and out to make sure her vocalizer hadn't strained itself too much from the countless hours she spent in her vulnerability, wondering if the walls had been thick enough to conceal and keep her secrets in.

She hoped they were.

Heavy trudges answered to the door, she swiped her face-plate and reached for the input pad of her door, slipping the code with a few clicks of the keys before she came face to face with the older femme beyond, and a tray full of energon cubes stacked into a loosely designed pyramid, with a few blocks here and there led astray from the initial concept clearly. Sunblitz glanced at the appeasement gift, then to the older femme.

Voltcharge's audial finial twitched, and she slowly offered the tray forth, serving to her first patron of the day.

For a moment, Sunblitz eyed at the cubes, and then back up to Voltcharge in silent questioning, her vocalizer unfit to produce any real words just yet before the silent exchange ended with a sigh.

The older femme re-adjusted the positioning of her hold on the tray and spoke up, plucking a cube from the arrangement, "Might've over done it a little but... You skipped on refueling hours quite a bit ago, I thought I'd bring extra," She expressed, explaining to the design as it left Sunblitz to huff.

"... I don't need it," She said, internally cursing as her words began to drag with a prominent rasp.

Her carrier was immediate to the slight catch in her throat and the voice Sunblitz carried, before she spit-fired back a solemn response, "Like slag you don't," Before visibly liftening her sharpened optical ridges and softening her gaze. She bit down her glossa for coming off too strongly and to make up for it, a quiet "sorry" escaped her and she shifted her placement beneath the tray again, to selected one of the Energon cubes. She plucked to one of the cubes, the one from the very top now lying at the bottom of Sunblitz's outstretched hand, "... Just, take one, at least. You can't keep neglecting your health like this," Voltcharge spoke, with a touch of concern in her voice, her optics dimming to a pleading look.

By way of her weakened state and inability to deny the truth, Sunblitz couldn't help but begrudgingly sigh. She to the cube, placing it on her glossa as the conveyer-portion of it began to coax the cube into the back of her mouth and she proceeded to consume it under Voltcharge's careful gaze until it let up.

The older femme sighed with relief and her sharp gaze dulled to a passive look, her optics adjusting and brightening as she nodded at her eldest's compliance before walking off.

She paused briefly in her strides to look back at Sunblitz, tilting her helm in gesture once she noticed Sunblitz hadn't followed, "C'mon, come downstairs and help me get The Rewind up and at 'em, hm?"

Sunblitz huffed, "What's the point?..." Sunblitz remarked, Nobody's going to be coming here not after..." She trailed off, and pursed her lips, the fresh memories arising once again and making the sweet aftertaste of Energon on her tongue go sour while she gazed on to her carrier.

Voltcharge stared on and, she responded, offering Sunblitz another cube from the tray to goad her out of her room. Reluctantly, Sunblitz followed to pick up another Energon cube, and then down the stairs went Voltcharge who spoke between every step, "... It still doesn't hurt to keep it open for the people that still need this place. A place to come down to and rest, have a drink or two after everything," She advised. "The people need it. They deserve it,"

At that, Sunblitz couldn't deny the older femme's reasonableness on the matter. The idea of keeping The Rewind opened right after felt at some ways... Capitalizing off the conflicts as of late, but with the intentions her creator carried, it sways the thought.

Yet even then, Sunblitz wondered if the same could be said for her--whether the resolution would be just that simple, or enough. Her own mind felt like a mess, a steaming, hot pile of burning slag that not a cup of high-grade could fix or extinguish. Either way, she shook her helm to push her problems aside and followed dutifully after, syncing her steps to Voltcharge's,

"... Fine,"

✦ ✦ ✦

Slowly, but surely, Sunblitz had resumed to aiding Voltcharge in setting up the establishment, the floors were cleaned, booths and tables polished, and inventory stock was checked, and so on to make the space cleaned up just right to keep the welcoming atmosphere hanging. A few customers had arrived in soon, not many clearly as she noticed that some hung outside the entry point, some merely turning away when they caught glimpse of Sunblitz to mumble something beneath their breath.

She pursed her lips at the hateful gazes that came and go, but she didn't necessarily point and blame them for it, not after everything.

She looked back into the rest of the establishment after giving the bar top a firm wipe-down. The place was nearly desolate, mind a few customers here and there that laid in the far corners, drinking themselves silly and having a good cry into their mugs. Others had finally gotten some shut eye, slumped in booths and tables--only finding rest when the drinks had pushed and encouraged for them to submit to the need for recharge, ending their days of neglect for rest or previous inability to.

No words were spoken amongst what remained of her family, as she looked around. Voltcharge was working behind the countertop as usual, having wiped clean the same glass when all others were already accounted for, and Razorcase was helping check up on the generators and other technical areas of the bar--trying to keep his own servos busy to occupy his mind from the messy days. At some extent, Sunblitz had even begun to wonder how her other sisters were holding up after the mess... Or at least one of them, no... Both.

She didn't even want to think of it like that, and regardless she did, now her attentions lingering on the thought of Silversong, and how she was doing since her body was... Recovered from the rubble.

Her tank began to coil uncomfortably again while she gripped the microfiber rag and to the shelf she was cleaning now, her claws lightly digging into the material of the furtniture.

Silversong had known to D-16 far longer than Sunblitz ever did, and she almost wondered whether somehow or other if Silversong had any part to the slag-show that resulted in all of this. And even without the role for causation, she almost wondered if Silversong did anything to stop that monster from becoming who he was and-

She stopped, her servo gripping fiercely into the steel shelf, nearly leaving indentations to the edges. The teeth of her digits had carved up the paint and material, dirtying the golden tips.

Sunblitz stared for a long moment, peeling her hand back and removing the rag from the shelf to clean off the evidence from her talons before deeply sighing. I need to get out of here, she thought, internally fearful of harming something else now while in her moments. She abandoned from her post from behind the countertop, throwing the rag loosely onto the flat of the table as she passed by her carrier in a speed-walking motion, catching their optic..

"Where are you going, Sunblitz?" .

Sunblitz continued her strides, slowing them down a step to speak rather than abandoning to Voltcharge's inquiries completely, "... To... Somewhere, I guess to uh. To get my processor off of things, y'know?" She remarked, trying to keep casual, extremely eager to leave.

"Do you need me to come along with you?-"

"No!" She abruptly began, like an uncontrolled blast from a gun, her words came out too sudden, too explosive than she would've liked-- which now left her patting out the flames of where her words ended up striking, looking to the surprised bartender, as guilt briefly glimmered in her optics.

Sunblitz cleared her throat "No--I mean, it's... Fine. I..." She waved a dismissive servo, averting her gaze, "I think--I'd like to go alone," She said.

After a moment of awkward silence, she slowly pivoted on her heel and pushed to moving towards the door again"... I-I'll be back soon, I promise,"

"Alright but, stay safe out there," The older femme resumed, and just as Sunblitz prepared to leave the establishment, she freezed at Voltcharge's next remark, morally obligated to stop and go like a delayed clock--uneven in its ticking and pace.

"-And you know you can always talk to me, right?" Voltcharge hummed, "Or Razorcase or even..." She froze mid-gesture, her own words now carrying too short and dropping like a dead fly.

She had trailed off, and Sunblitz had already known painfully too well what she was intending to say.

Your sisters.

But that option wouldn't be available at this moment, not with the current state of things as it almost made her scoff at the thought. Silversong was the last person she wanted to talk to right now, yet the only one she felt tempted to reach to, to demand answers even if it meant to grip to her unconscious form and to scream at her from there, to ask what had happened when she had disappeared off with the group of miners and came back to all this. And as for Hightop? Primus knows where she's gone since all that had happened, having remained holed up in her room from time to time or either gone elsewhere.

Her family was currently a mess of itself, so to her. It only felt right to leave and find her own space rather than rely to her closest ties--not while they were like this--a conflicting tangled web of lies, and mistrust, uncertainty and cluelessness, to put it crudely.

"Yeah. I know," She said, more lenient to brushing off the offering more than anything to seek her own methods of peace. She began to resume her trek, looking to her side and reached out as she took to an abandoned bottle of cheap high-grade left behind by some sap she remember slumped here from yesterday. Before waving out at the door, "I'll see you soon, Voltcharge,"

With that, she bid farewell and shortly departed, having felt the set of concerned optics burn into her back, attempting to shrug it off as she disappeared out the doorway.

✦ ✦ ✦

"... Dirty traitor!"

"Lowly scum bag!"

"Wasn't it your job to protect us!?"

"Slagger!"

Sunblitz raised her forearm as a glass bottle crashed against her plating, wincing. Her forearm shielded herself from the shards that flew explosively in their own web of directions, fortunately none having entered in places she didn't want them to.

She opened up her optics devoid of glass--and made sure to keep them that way while she hurried off before another bottle could be thrown at her, narrowly missing her helm and into the wall she darted past.

The barrage of hostile messages barely relented with each step, wondering whether she should've just changed her passage route as it was beginning to become slowly more populated with bots who saw to her and thought,

"Now there's an outlet we can use. There's the one who was apart of this mess,"

Damn it all, she thought as she dodged poorly to a thrown can that nearly caused her to trip.

The group of various bots she had passed began to raise their volume with each advancement she made while walking away, wanting to remind her of her past with every opportunity they still had in her presence.

Sunblitz knew that she could've flown here, made it easier for herself had she taken to the skies but there was no longer any pride for her gift of wings. At the very moment, most fliers weren't regarded very well, considering that most of the fliers that once made up the population of Iacon were associated one way or another with Sentinel, some thought back to either the ex-High Guard, and Sentinel's personnel, now turned Decepticons or either dead.

Even if she did take the option, she couldn't put much trust that it'd be a smooth sailing without someone deciding to take her down from the skies with just one very accurate and emotionally driven throw of a tool or some other, so for now. She dismissed the thought and forced herself down this walk of shame, venturing on and taking to the strikes of cans against the helm, sheet metal and anything else that proved to be a rather effective tool to remind her of her regrets and faults for ever associating so closely with Sentinel Prime.

She wondered if he'd be even laughing or pitying her from where he stood in the afterlife by now.

Down the streets she went, down every road, and path. Her pede followed to very calculated steps, an internal route that she had followed time and time again to visit to the one place where she'd be able to find some quiet to herself... The one place where she truly could speak to someone freely without interruption.

She turned up around a corner and glanced around for a moment, having drawn out on the farther side of Iacon city down at the outskirts. She sighed, and trudged up to a particular space, twisting to one more corner, down a flight of short stairs.... And there, she found herself face to face with Sentinel Prime.

...

Or what was left of him really.

The intricate statue that remained of his head had been worn out, cracked in the side of the helm where it had its first taste of concrete after several of the miners down in the center of Iacon took it down from its shiny pedestal, the only recoverable part she could find in the mess of broken pieces of his limb and bod.

His faceplate adorned to smears, and scars, littered in desecration that aimed to ruin everything he found so perfect in himself. His jaw had been broken off too, ironic, to say the least--perhaps for the sake that he could tell no more lies. Even in this petrified yet solemn expression.

Beside it, there was his wings--his actual wings--clipped from the scene during his fight with Megatron. She even wondered how she had managed to find these in rather adequate condition, after her recovery, and after her makeshift trials with the new leader, Optimus Prime. She had initially suspected that someone would've at least made a grab for them to destroy and throw away or some other. Yet it didn't feel so much as a lucky find and more of a dreadful discovery that some part of him survived when the rest hadn't.

It was the only thing she had left of Sentinel to remember of him, not that he had deserved much of a proper memorial in the eyes of the people who once adored him.

Sunblitz almost wondered what they had already done to the rest of his frame already, probably melted it down into slag and then thrown away to be turned into garbage, some sort of tragic cycle of being used to be rendered useless again, or perhaps turned into something undignified, a crude design of his visage to remind all of Iacon the liar that had been plaguing their government for years... Or maybe her processor was all too forgiving, too kind, and uncreative at the moment to really wonder what happened and what they'd done to it, because most certainly, she knew that Iacon bore no kindness for being played like fools, nobody would.

Regardless, she took to the one thing she had left and properly arranged to the space again as it had come undone since her time away, keeping everything into place. His helm laid at the foot of a piece of debris, chipped poorly to make for a headstone. His wings leaned against the side of it, folded on the other instead of displaying proudly.

His name was once etched on the stone but became desecrated by her own golden talons, for the better--she thought. Otherwise, had anybody found the space she had been visiting to, Sunblitz was most definitely certain they would've just destroyed it completely, to purge Iacon of the traitorous figure.

The flier eventually settled, only after scarring to the stone obelisk again, making her... Seventh notch in the material before sitting down in front of it where she could face the decapitated stone helm.

She watched it, as it watched her, and with a deep sigh. She pushed out her first words to the open air,

"Hey," She greeted, with no mirth, and nothing short of forced casualty.

...

Silence.

As to be expected.

...

She slowly clenched her digits close and parted her lips, ready to speak again until... All the words she had, mingled into something else altogether, her internal script becoming unwoven by the letter,

"I..."

Sunblitz took in another breath, her ventilators whirling as her processor tried to find something, to untangle the words and make this as clean as possible, gripping to the lower end of her facial plate.

It shouldn't have been this hard--she's done this before.

She was speaking to a rock for Primus' sake.

"I--hff." She huffed, and tried again and only embarrassed herself further when a choked noise escaped.

Primus, she looked insane.

"Ugh...Hhhgghh---!!! Frag. Frag it all I guess! Let's just. Let's just roll with the punches," She expressed, miserably reassuring herself as she threw out her desired, clean scripts out her mental window, doing it the way she's always done...

Not like the ways that she was once used to, no.

There were no more cleanliness to anything she did, she wasn't given that option anymore. Just a mess, of herself and--everything!

"Frag it--frag it all! I don't even know what the hell I'm even doing here, talking to this--talking to you--I look insane!" She exclaimed, judgmental of herself in every part when the figure before her wasn't even alive for her to blame.

Throwing her servos forward and glaring at the Sentinel helm, she huffed at its natural indifference, "Y'know what? I bet you're all up happy--happy and prancing about in the Allspark right now, all giddy and slaggin' gone stupid with joy that you didn't have to fight bolts and nails to prove your innocence, huh?! That you didn't have to be down here like all the rest of us facin' the consequences of your own actions!" Sunblitz breathed, her chassis rising and falling as her anger steadily rose with the silence from the stone, pinching the metal between her optical ridges.

She was right somewhere, this was stupid--let alone embarrassing to be talking to this inanimate object that looked like her last partner albeit bodyless...

and... Jawless... And lifeless.

But, damn if she did and damn if she didn't--whatever she was doing. It was working in getting her to talk and so she persisted, sighing and grabbing to the stone head, holding it close in hopes that it would help burn her out soon enough in her tangents and hopeless rants.

"You don't even KNOW how absolutely fraggin' grueling it's been bein' around here and cleaning up after you!" She hissed, "... Telling and begging all of Iacon to believe me--me! One of the very closest people to you--you, who had to go and blow up everythin', and make an absolute slag show out of this entire thing!" Sunblitz exclaimed, shaking her helm, "I--I honestly can't believe it! Do you even understand how terrible it was?! To be looked at and ridiculed, to no longer make people feel safe around you when you swore to protect them?!"

She almost felt like throwing the helm out of her lap. Her digits wrapped tightly around the sides, watching as the material cracked slightly, breaking under her harsh gaze and even harsher treatment.

Sunblitz forced herself to exude once again, some extent of restraint, not wanting to actually break him despite the temptations that lied in the back of her processor to do so, to take and find some peace in destruction, as she always did, be it on herself or something else.

She closed her optics again, gritting her dentas and sucking in a sharp breath--then carefully dropping the helm back onto foot of the obelisk to keep it away from her talons, scoffing at it instead.

Reeling in her anger, she found the strength to speak up once more when she had the coherency to, forcing herself to drop her dignity out so that her whirlpool of thoughts at the moment would be better balanced and given light of this opportunity. She doubted that she'd ever get the chance like this to speak to him, to argue like she used to, to hear his stupid voice, watch his face crack with bafflement at her defiance.

This was her taste of reprieve and for her alone, so she'd be sure to relish in every part of the taste of it,

"... All of Iacon's struggling to process what you did still, half the center of the city is wrecked and we've got new messes arriving soon. There's... There's Decepticons and Autobots now. And... And they're being lead by the miners that--- you messed up, the ones that.. You.. You tore out their transformation cogs from?!... I mean, who does that and... And you lied to me! You lied to me this entire time and kept it secret--from me!!" She pointed to herself.

The decapitated head only stared and continued to say nothing.

Sunblitz huffed and shook her helm, not even understanding why she was getting so worked up about this statue-head not reacting, not saying a word, blinking, anything--and yet she knew somewhere, that some other. It was the simple work of projection, forcing all her emotions onto this single, lone block of stone that made it real enough for her to converse with--or rather simply fill the silent space around with her voice. Every echo coming back in her own words felt just right enough to make up for a conversation, even if it felt a little mocking and uncomfortable.

She didn't know if that made her more of a fool to the fact that she tricked herself into believing just enough that this hunk of rocks was him, or the fact that it was working.

Her thoughts lingered and delved now that she was alone and face to face with him, some part that fooled her just enough.

She thought back and swam in her memories, no, not swam--she began to drown in them and her own doubts, sinking further into the spiraling whirlpool of her mind before, bobbing to the surface again with an unsteady realization, "...Primus, how long have you been lying to me? For how long did you keep up this facade?"

Silence.

"... Was there every any truth to anything you said...?" She muttered in disbelief.

The stone-head continued to keep quiet, lips permanently sealed, and in her dying hopes. She leaned back and steadily pressed her knees up to her chassis, crossing over her arms and glared to the rock before averting her gaze as she softened her voice, spitting out bitter words that hold no better heat than to a firecracker, "... And to think you had the audacity to lie to me, and promise me that it would be okay..." She scoffed, "... Was this your definition of it being 'okay' then?..."

...

Still, silence filled the air in place of his reply.

Her expression turned sour and she pursed her lips, faceplate scrunching up, "... You gave me a purpose here, a job, and somehow you ripped it away from me without having to do--anythin'. Now, the people of Iacon can't even look at me, because they think I'm just like you and... Airachnid--that I knew from the very beginning that you both were knee-deep in all this slaggin' mess... and don't even get me started on what they've got on with Airachnid now," She said, rolling her optics to the thought before glowering again.

Her gaze fell right back onto to the decapitated helm of Sentinel. She gripped her fists around air again and settled back into an uncomfortably bunched state, huffing as her wings drooped and she hid back behind the wall of her crossed arm to glare like a petulant child, the gaze giving away to a look of weariness, a flame in her eyes that should've been put out long ago,

"... I should feel lucky. In fact, I think you would've probably told me that I was lucky. Somehow or some other with that cocky, arrogance of yours somewhere." She said, "But I don't. I don't feel lucky. Between the three of us? And all that happened? ... I'm starting... To feel like you... You were the luckiest out of all three of us, Sentinel,"

She gripped her arms a little harder, bitter to the thought, "you got the easiest way out possible, while me and that bodyguard of yours had to suffer the collateral, and some of us--me, especially, and so many others, are now pickin' up after you, was this all really worth it?... Did all of this live up to your intended dreams caked in gold and all the finer things in life?!..." She near-shouted, before forcing herself to quell her anger by a smidgen, cutting off her volume first when she had heard pedes off in the distance down the alley walking by.

Her eyes widened, tucking herself further near to the tombstone close to the wall and kept quiet, silent and watchful until the silhouettes passed, keenly listening to the sounds of their steps

... Until silence became restored and she sat back with a relieved sigh, now solemnly glaring at the rock nearest to her lap before looking away when she had once again picked it up and carefully placed it into her folded legs,

"... Maybe she had already known this would happen, but me? I was the damned fool who knew nothin' of this..." She said, before something bit into her throat at the thought--the idea of being innocent and a victim--left a more burning flavor of disgust on her glossa than any of Cybertron's worse below-grade Energon could ever do, rephrasing,

"... No, I wasn't the damned fool who knew nothing... I knew something and felt too complacent to even think of sniffing around any further to see what kind of slag you were hidin' from me... From all of Iacon, from the world..." She rested a servo over his helm, and reluctantly dragged it to tilt his lifeless eyes up to her, by the chin.

"... If Primus had written your fate to be like... This? Then, by the Allspark, do I have some slaggin' criticism for his work," She said, trying to find something bitter to say but, all there was left in her internal storage now was just... Memories, both good and bad that she wanted to get off her chassis. The idea of something so sweet between brittle and sharp thorns of her mind was... Almost repulsive.

She reached back, and forced them out--like throwing out tchotchkes and toys she no longer needed or wanted, only to look back and wonder whether they still deserved to stay or to go

"... For a moment, and during the nights, I can't help but think... They were too easy on you, too merciful," She started up, outright blunt honesty as he would've expected from her, "... I sometimes think you should've been brought to justice, imprisoned, stripped of your wings, your power, somethin' more that I know would've hurt you more than what you got in the end... And sometimes, I can't believe I think that way now... Say things like that. It's like I'm right back to where I was the first few times I knew you... So hateful, and... Full of resentment," She crossed her arms over the top of his helm, bringing the rock close to her chassis, looking over it.

"Sometimes I wonder if I was even the first bot to have ever hated you when I came... What a privilege that would've been, hm? Someone original out of every copy here who said they 'loved' you,"

She sighed, "And now look at me." Sunblitz tilted the stone-head to face to her as she gently cupped the side of its face, the cold material leaving her to shudder as she narrowed her optics and lowered her helm.

Passing the weight out of her servos and back onto the ground, she stood up once more with a hardened expression, what softness lied now became suffocated, "... You are... One of the most downright, worst bots, I could have ever gotten the privilege to know... in this life cycle, and I..." She trailed, her servo wandering just short of the storage compartment to her forearm, taking out the extra company she brought with her in the form of a bottle of cheap high-grade, "...Honestly do not know... Or whether I ever truly knew... Whether I hated you or if I ever genuinely did... like you," She whispered the last half out, and sighed deeply.

Her index and thumb seized to the cork, twisting.

"... This one's for you, Sentinel,"

"pop!" went the plug, and out went the dark blue liquid. She took to a short sip of the bottle of processor-poison first, choking on the taste as she spilt the rest out over the rubble and mess that she called Sentinel's grave, sharing the awful drink out to her unresponsive partner. Her yellow optics dimmed to the lowest setting they'd been in since... Ever, watching as it spilled over and stained every part before becoming a pool on the ground that surrounded his helm like blood. Sunblitz watched until all of the contents slowly left the bottle and onto the crudely arranged headstone and for a moment. She observed to the waste.

It almost looks like his color, she thought, with pursed lips and a strain in her throat. Sunblitz cleared her vocalizer for the moment, trying to rid the bitter taste that lingered, looking to the headstone once more with a conflicted look that slowly gave away.

"... I hope you're happy with yourself from up there," She whispered, huffing as the bottle ran dry, before allowing it to slip from her fingers. It clattered onto the cold rubble where she knelt once more to come at eye-level to the stone, tracing her digits gingerly onto the engraved moniker, and her spark began to ache once more and twist itself painfully.

Blame it on the high-grade, she thought, blame it on the high-grade.

Before Sunblitz knew it, she held to the sides of the obelisk, and leaned her helm to it, a ragged sigh escaped and she breathed,

"I hate you..." She airily said, before allowing herself the moment of silence to pour out one last thing, suspecting that the poor high-grade pool beneath could use to a coolant finisher, as she softly breathed and wept against the monument in silence.

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