#i was going to go a completely different feel and make one geared more towards whatshisface

[ramhaiba]

𝖢𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀

Pairing- Yandere Bokuto x Reader MasterList

"But to Bokuto. It’s not just a crush, it’s love."

A/N- this is one of my drafts, so this is shorter than most of my work (might make a longer ver. of this fic in the future!)

Everyone knows Boktuo probably has a crush on you. The topic of Bokuto’s childish crush on you is spoken like taboo. There is a nonverbal agreement between the entire MSBY to refrain from acknowledging it because of its harmless yearning.

While Boktuo’s a great guy, the idea of getting into another workplace relationship sounds displeasing to you since your last one ended in a disaster, causing you to quit your job due to the uncomfortable work environment. 

That’s why you pray he doesn’t ask you to dinner or anything romantic related because the sight of a heartbroken Bokuto would haunt your dreams. But that is your future problem-At present, Bokuto seems to be ignorant of his feelings because if he did, he wouldn’t hesitate to show up to practice, a bouquet in his hands, confessing his attraction towards you. 

Thankfully in the present, Bokuto just thinks of you as a good friend- a good friend who he can’t get enough of, a good friend who he wants to spend all his time with. Sure- sometimes he gets a little moody when he catches you hanging around other people but that’s just a normal thing for good friends to feel right? Right?

He’s doing it again, he’s completely ignoring every responsibility he has so he can talk to you. The second you step into the gymnasium, he’s at your side so fast that you think he teleported. Bokuto would start blathering about the more random things, details about his day, his plans for the weekend, and family events. But he always complimented your appearance, regardless of whether you thought you looked like a mess. The conversation was getting too long.

You could see in the background that Atsumu was getting impatient, hands on his hips as his foot repeatedly tapped the ground.

A setter needs to train with their team. But Atsumu can’t exactly do that if his teammate is busy chatting up their manager. “Bokuto, that sounds really great but shouldn’t you get back to pratice?” you told Bokuto, trying to solve the issue. 

Boktuo tilted his head, a naive smile on his lips as he said “It’s fine, we can talk for five more minutes. Atsumu can wait.”

That was Atsumu's last straw, his eyebrows furrowing as his fingers curled into a fist at his side.

“Bokuto, could ya please stop flirting with your little girlfriend? Get yer ass back to the court, we have a game coming to prepare for” Atsumu huffed. You glance at Bokuto, noticing his dazed expression, it seems like gears in his brain are finally turning.

“Girl-friend?”Bokuto uttered in disbelief, his arms slumped forward. When his yellow eyes looked back at you, you noticed a slight blush crawling on his face, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.

“Bokuto-”

“I gotta pratice now, Y/n. Talk to you later” Bokuto interrupted, dashing back to the court. You looked at Atsumu, giving him the most pissed-off look because judging by Boktuo's sudden change in emotion- from happy-go-lucky to a bashful blushing ace, 

It looks like he finally realized why your friendship was so different from others.

But to Bokuto. It’s not just a crush, it’s love.

It’s all that stupid setter’s fault that Bokuto is acting all weird in front of you. The second pratice ends, you’re pulling Atsumu by his ear, dragging him to the locker room so you can curse at him.

“You just had to use the word ‘girlfriend.’ You ruined this whole thing, Miya” you shouted, cornering the blonde hair setter against a locker.

“Sorry- Sorry, c’mon it was in the heat of the moment” Atsumu huffed, averting his eyes in embarrassment. 

“God- I’m going to have to break that poor boy’s heart because of you” you sighed. “What’cha mean by that?” Atsumu asked.

“Well, knowing Bokuto- he’s probably going to ask me on a date. But I’ve kinda..sworn off of workplace romances permanently” you answered, the anger in your tone slowly fading.

Atsumu took a moment to think before opening his mouth,

“We can’t have him acting all heartbroken right now- a match is coming up and I seriously cannot set to a depressed Bokuto….So just make sure he can’t ask ya out then” Atsumu suggested.

“What do you mean by that” you questioned, unsure of what he was trying to get at. “Avoid him till this little crush burns out. If that doesn’t work, it won’t hurt to get a boyfriend, y’know?” Atsumu added.

You punched Atsumu’s arm for his last suggestion causing him to hiss.

 “You’re an asshole but avoiding him for a little while isn’t such a bad idea” you hummed. “Does that mean I’m forgiven” Atsumu huffed, rubbing his sore forearm. “For now” you replied.

—

Avoiding Bokuto was a lot harder than you expected it to be. When he attempted to greet you at practice, you’d straightforwardly tell him “ I have to go schedule the hotel reservations for the out-of-state game,” or you’d mention another responsibility you must fill. 

Either way, he would let out a noticeable pout every time you walked away, mumbling a weak “okay then.”

Then he’s trying to get your attention after practice, a nervous but excited expression on his face as he stands in front of you but you don’t let him utter a single word before reminding him that you have to go home quickly to do some laundry.

‘Laundry? Was laundry really more important than him?’

Bokuto wondered. He doesn’t understand why the love of his life is acting so strange. Maybe you’re not feeling well? Or you’re stressed.

Either way, Bokuto is showing up at your door, holding a gift basket, a big grin on his lips. 

“Bokuto? What's all of this” you asked, awkwardly as you opened the door for him.

“ Figured you’ve been stressed recently that’s why you’ve been acting so distant, so I made ya a little self-care basket.” Bokuto beamed, proudly holding the basket of assorted goods. Everything in that basket is expensive, you can tell by the popular brands of each bottle of lotion, candles, and sweets.

“ Thank you, Bokuto. But you didn’t have to do this” you responded, calmly as you carefully took the basket from his hand, trying your best not to come in contact with his fingertips.

“I don’t mind doing these things if it’s for you. I’m pretty sure I’d do anything for you” Bokuto laughed bashfully.

“ Well.. goodnight.” You mumbled, trying to close the door, but his foot interrupted its closing.

“ Actually, I was kinda meaning to ask you something”

Fuck- here it is, the moment you’ve been dreading.

“Y/n, after hearing what ‘Tsumu said on the court the other day, it kinda got me wondering about somethings” Bokuto commented, a bashful grin across his lips.

“W-what kind of things” you stuttered, trying to put up a fake smile as mentally you were dreading the worst.

“I think I wouldn’t mind- I wouldn’t at all mind being able to call you my girlfriend” Bokuto confessed.

Fuck- what do you do? He’ll be too upset to play for his match next week if you reject him. You’d be lying to him if you accepted his feelings and hurt him more when you admit the truth.

“Bokuto- I don’t think we should get into this conversation, it might distract you from your game that’s coming up” you suggested.

Bokuto leans his face closer to yours, only a centimeter apart causing your heart to race. “You look so nervous, Y/n” he pointed out, his fingers brushing over the apples of your cheeks.

 “And your cheeks… they feel so hot” he mumbled. “I-it’s nothing important, I’m fine You responded, swatting his hand away from your face, adverting your eyes from his unmoving glare. 

“At first I didn’t completely understand why you’ve been pushing me away, Y/n. But now I understand. It’s because you feel the same and you’re nervous about dating another co-worker. But I’m not like that guy, Y/n. I’d never treat you like trash. I’d never let you go” Bokuto confessed. He’s getting excited- too excited because he’s come up with a false reality where you’d reciprocated his feelings. 

“Bokuto, I’m sorry but I don’t- I don’t feel the same and I don’t think I ever will” you replied being forced to ruin his dream. His entire demeanor changes at your words. It was like a switch flipped in his brain. Once standing in front of you with a big grin now morphed into an emotionless expression, eyes dulling burning holes into you, fist clenched at his side.

“Are you saying I’m wrong?” Bokuto asked, trying to find out if he heard you correctly.

“I’m saying I don’t have romantic feelings for you, Bokuto. B-but I really cherish our friendship and I don’t mind still being friends after this” you responded. 

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to be friends” Bokuto commented, his hand curling over your doorframe, pushing himself into your apartment, every step he took forward caused you to walk backward.

“Bokuto, stop it- you’re scaring me,” you remarked, heart skipping as your back pressed against the wall. “I like you so much, Y/n. I really do and I think you could too. I just need to show you how good I can be to you-

For you”

[inkskinned]

something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.

not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.

you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.

but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.

you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.

but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.

you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.

you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?

you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.

you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!

you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"

[rafeandonlyrafe]

good boy

words: 1.5k

warnings: established relationship, marriage, protective!rafe, (guard??) dog, fluffy

“rafe, it's literally two weeks. ill be fine!” you say, folding his clothes, having dumped out his suitcase onto the bed to reorganize it when you saw how he packed it, just chucking things in.

“two weeks where im a hours away from you by plane.” rafe sighs, watching you carefully repack his suitcase as he pouts on the bed, not wanting to leave you.

“you know, cameron, i lived a whole 20 years before meeting you.” you point out, knowing while rafes concern comes from his love for you, it will completely overwhelm what is supposed to be an enjoyable family vacation and leave him miserable the whole time.

“i don't see why you can't just come with me.” rafe groans, flopping back against the bed. you smile and round the bed to where his head is resting against the pillows. you press a smooch to his forehead, rubbing your hand over his head, petting at his soft hair.

“baby, it's just for your family. you know that.” it's not like you don't want to accompany rafe to a tropical paradise, but you would feel way too awkward intruding.

“what if something happens to you? and im not here to protect you? id be the worst fiancee ever.” rafe grabs your head from rubbing his head, holding up the ring on your finger for him to admire.

“nothing will happen. nothing ever happens here.” you laugh. you're not sure what crime is like on the other side of the island, but your neighborhood is incredibly safe.

“im still worried.” rafe sighs. “you in that big house all alone.”

“im gonna spend 99% of the time wedding planning.” you hum, thinking about the tabs pulled open on your laptop of different venues, dresses, and color palettes.

that finally gets rafe to crack a smile. “can't wait to marry you.” rafe says earnestly. he only proposed a month ago, some people would say that you were too young to get married, but rafe knew when you came into his life and turned everything around for him that he had to put a ring on your finger.

“i can't wait either.” you bend down to press a kiss to rafes lips. “but seriously we need to talk about your packing before we tie the knot, why do you only have one pair of shorts packed for an island?”

-- two years later --

“remember those two weeks you left before we were engaged? it's not really much longer. you should go, baby. it's a good opportunity.” you are sat on rafes lap, back pressed against his chest as he scrolls through his email.

“it's just work, and it's a whole lot longer than two weeks. i don't want to leave you here alone for over a month.” rafe closes out of the email, making you sigh.

“i was fine for those two weeks, ill be fine now. promise. i think you should go! it's a big conference.” you turn sideways on his lap so you can look rafe in the eye. “besides, it's still six months away. plenty of time to prepare.”

“prepare?” rafe raises his eyebrows. “so you'd be good with security cams around the whole house and personal security?”

“cameras on the outside and hell no. you don't want some random guys watching after me do you?”

you can see the gears turning in rafes head as he frowns. “yeah, you're right. no men.”

“so you'll go?” you smile. rafe closes his eyes for a brief moment before nodding.

“yay!” you squeal. you're not excited to be left alone, and you love being around your husband more than anything, but the work trip is a big deal, and you know he'll be kicking himself if he misses out on such a good opportunity.

--

“rafey?” you call, eyes sweeping across the living room as you enter your shared home, a head full of fresh highlights.

“hubby?” you call out, continuing deeper into the house until you see movement through the glass door leading towards the backyard, but it's not the typical roll of the ocean against the shore.

“rafe?” you question as you open the door. you expected to find him in his office, where he was before you left for the beauty salon.

rafe smiles, waiting for your eyes to look down, and when you finally see what is sitting at rafes feet, you let out a gasp.

“oh my gosh!” you squeal. 

“wifey, meet max. our new australian shepherd.” rafe gives a command with his hand, that has max running towards you.

you sink to your knees as the young dog excitedly greets you, licking at your hands as you pet him.

“hi maxey.” you coo at the dog, you're guessing around two years old, with max being full size but still having some young features.

“rafe, you didn't tell me you were getting us a dog!” you stand up, max following close behind as you rush to give your husband a hug.

“i have a confession.” rafe says, his hands looped around your waist. you frown, worried that max was just a foster and you'd have to give him back, or that something went wrong with the adoption. you often talked about getting pets before getting married, but wanted to wait a little bit, and then time just slipped away and before you knew it, you were over a year into your marriage. 

“what?” you whine out.

“ive been working with a trainer behind your back. i wanted to make sure max was ready before we chose him for sure. he knows commands, me, your scent, our house. everything. he knows his primary responsibility is to protect you and our property.”

“oh my gosh!” you slap rafe in the chest, surprised that he was able to keep such a secret from you. “how could you do all that without telling me?” you laugh, not angry, but surprised that he was able to orchestrate everything.

you don't wait for rafe to explain how he was able to find so much time, stepping out of his hold to kneel down and continue petting max.

“we have some more training sessions so he can learn with you as well.” rafe further explains, also leaning down to pet max behind the ears as he pants excitedly at his new owners.

--

“what is it maxy?” you ask as he lifts his head up, looking around the living room. “you miss your daddy?”

you sigh as max lets out a sad sounding huff, petting your hand over his head, scratching at his neck which you know is his favorite. rafe has been gone on his business trip for a month now, with only a week and a half left until he returns home.

max suddenly jumps off the couch, eyes on the backyard. he lets out a bark, claws clicking on the hardwood floor as he moves to the glass door. he lets out another bark, making you stand.

“what is it boy?” you ask, looking out the window.

max lets out another bark, this one the familiar territorial bark that he’s practiced in his training with you and rafe. you know the only reason that rafe feels safe enough leaving you home is that max is a great guard dog.

you get closer to the window, squinting your eyes to try and see in the darkness when you sudden jump back with a scream as a squirrel runs across your patio, causing max to bark and run along the glass door until it scatters into the yard.

“holy shit, maxy, you scared the shit out of me.” you press your hand to your chest before kneeling down, scratching behind his ears. “it was just a squirrel.” you reassure him with a pat.

your heart rate is just starting to calm down from the fright when you hear the front door open. max instantly takes off with you following after him, letting out a sigh of relief when you see rafe standing in the foyer.

“baby.” he sighs happily, setting his suitcase down as you run into his arms, pressing your lips together. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you too, what are you doing home though?” you ask, giving him another kiss before he can answer.

“they didn’t need me for the rest of the week, decided to get home to my lady.” max barks, making rafe lean down to pet him, still holding you up. “and my good boy too, of course.”

“so happy to have you home.” you nuzzle your nose into rafes neck, inhaling the familiar scent that you missed so much. 

“happy to be back with you, wifey.” rafe says, carrying you further into the house.

“oh, and you will be very happy to know maxy did a great job protecting me while you were gone.” you tell rafe. it mostly involved max barking in warning at any delivery guy or car turning around in your driveway, but his presence did help making you feel safer and less loney.

“hopefully not too good.” rafe huffs as he looks at your pet. “can’t have him replacing me now.”

you giggle, surprised rafe can manage to be jealous of your dog. “never.” you swear, pressing another kiss to his lips.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk

[innorogers]

Lull

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: So this is when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking.

Warning: Fluff / SMUT / MINORS DNI / 18+ / Unprotected Sex /

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Natasha Romanoff

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia

You slipped through the streets like shadows, holding hands, hearts racing, eyes darting over your shoulders, every sound amplified by the silence of the night. The Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder – or ‘Magic Stark-Potter Thing’ as Steve was calling it – had granted you some safe time. But time was fragile, and you both knew it.

Your powers pulsed beneath your skin, guiding Steve with quiet certainty. You could feel the city’s pulse, see through the walls, and peer into the hidden corners of every alley. You led him down paths that no one else knew, invisible threads pulling you toward safety. The streets, immersed in late hours after midnight, stretched before you like the remnants of some secret map.

When you reached a narrow street swallowed by the night, you knelt down and moved a pile of old garbage cans aside, revealing a small, grimy basement window. You glanced back at Steve, and gestured for him to follow you down.

Turned out to be an underground club, and the party was just getting good.

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke. Neon lights painted the walls in erratic colors—electric blues and deep reds—while people shouted over the pounding music, their laughter swallowed by the deafening noise.

You exchanged a look with Steve as you pushed through the crowd. His usual composed demeanor flickered, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene while staying close behind you. You weaved through the press of bodies, brushing against strangers lost in their own worlds, music vibrating through your bones as you both made your way to the other side. It felt like a different universe—one that was wild, loud, and completely unaware of the chaos lurking outside its walls.

“I need a computer!” You raised your voice so he could hear.

“I really don’t think you’ll find one here.” He almost laughed, holding your waist and waving through the people around you as you moved forward.

“I know.” You tilted your jaw. “But that’s perfect, look.” You pointed to the computer they used as a register to take orders. “An older one, probably. I need to enter an untraceable code; our network is probably compromised, so I need to notify the only being who can’t be hacked or corrupted.”

“Really?” Now he was intrigued. “Who?”

“Vision.” You continued to scan the place as you moved through the dancing crowd. “These machines won’t work, they’re plugged into their private network. I’ll need something connected to the outside. C'mon… let’s go to another floor.” It was a huge underground bar, so you held Steve’s hand and moved to the stairs.

“I think we’ve got company.” Steve tightened his grip as he noticed some guys entering the floor. They looked like military—tense poses and sharp, alert eyes scanning the place. He looked up and saw more of them on the floor above, near the exits and moving through the whole place.

“Let’s go, we don’t have much time. I think there’s some gear on me that’s making us trackable.” You hurried with him to go down, but stopped when those military men started coming from downstairs. You pulled him aside, hiding in a dark corner, but they weren’t leaving. Steve’s figure—tall, handsome, blonde—was too easy to recognize. A lot of women (and men) were looking at him with flirtatious eyes, intrigued.

You passed by corridors and stairs full of people, using your powers and his sensitive perception to navigate the space. The men didn’t notice you were there, but their eyes were everywhere.

You felt Steve’s body tense beside you, ready to attack at any moment, and the place would turn into hell if that happened. You cupped his face, pulling him closer to the wall, your eyes scanning behind him.

“I’ve always wanted to do this with you…” You smirked as the men passed by, and with your hand on his neck, you kissed him deeply.

Shit. Steve’s body went rigid.

This was the worst place and the worst time, but somehow, it felt so right. He’d almost forgotten how much he needed this. The moment your lips met his, your body pressed against his, the scent of smoke and debris clinging to you from the chase. But your kiss, it grounded him—reminded him why every risk was worth it.

He kissed you in the flicker of shadows, under the flashing lights, in a dark corner of an underground club. Drunk, dancing strangers moved in their own ecstasy, oblivious to the danger. It wasn’t something he ever imagined doing, but then again, you always brought the unexpected. And again...How could you ever think he’d choose anyone else over you? Over this?

He deepened the kiss, pinning you to the wall, his tongue brushing yours, and it felt so right… you tasted like sweetness, laced with something wild, like sin and salvation entwined.

“Steve…” You broke away, eyes still on the men as they passed, and he lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist. You grinned. “I really don’t think this is the time…”

“Well…” He chuckled, voice rough. “I think it’s the perfect time for this.”

“Come on. Let’s move now that we have the chance.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before starting to move.

Taking advantage of the lack of enemies in sight, you made it to the last floor through doors and hidden passageways and arrived at what seemed to be a VIP room.

“There we go.” Your eyes locked onto a computer next to a more sophisticated bar. “That’ll do.” But as you approached, Steve’s senses sharpened, picking up the tension of a threat.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw a group of men—tall, armed, and bearing the unmistakable faces of movie villains. Why do they always look like the bad guys? He sighed, slowly rolling up his sleeves. Well, it was about damn time. He had been holding back this feeling of wanting to punch someone ever since a bomb exploded near your car.

“Mmm?” You turned back and noticed the surroundings. The only guy who had been on a date at a corner table rushed out with his partner as soon as the room filled with the approaching men, circling both of you. He was even polite enough to close the door behind him.

“Oh.” You blinked at the 1, 2, 3… 15 men surrounding you.

“Gentlemen, there’s really no need for this to escalate…” You advised as the tension thickened, movements slowing to a crawl before the inevitable first strike.

“Shut up, doll. We’ll take care of you later.” Said the man who seemed to be their leader, smirking at you. “And believe me, you’ll be well attended.”

“Oh … you really shouldn’t have said that.” You shook your head, already sensing Steve’s fists clenching in response.

“Sir, you’re about to get the smash of your life…” You spun just in time to grab the bartender’s hand as he reached for a weapon beneath the desk, a fight breaking out behind you. “Please don’t do that.” You blinked at him. “I just need to borrow your computer, okay?”

“Um…” The bartender, startled by your strong grip, noticed the Avengers logo on your gear and quickly reconsidered. “Um… this thing runs on Windows Millennium. Like…Yikes.” He gestured at the ancient machine. “Don’t you need something, I don’t know, more modern?”

“It’ll do, thanks.” You hopped over the bar counter and began typing. “If it doesn’t send Vision a signal, it’ll at least ping him with a virus warning.”

The moment Steve moved, the air shifted.

The first punch landed with the force of a freight train, sending one of the goons crashing into a table, shattering glass and upending chairs. Chaos erupted in the room as fists and bodies collided. Steve ducked under a wild swing, his movements sharp and precise, retaliating with a brutal uppercut that left another attacker sprawled on the floor. Damn, this is so boring. A punching bag in the training room felt even heavier.

One of the armed men lunged at him with a knife, but Steve twisted to the side, catching the man’s wrist and flipping him over with ease. The crack of bones echoed as the thug hit the ground hard, and Steve was already turning, launching a swift kick into another man’s chest, sending him crashing through the VIP room’s thin partition wall.

“Babe, you got that?” He moved his head, avoiding a knife—or whatever sharp thing was coming from the back—grabbed the guy by his arm, and twisted it like a towel.

“Just a sec.” You were typing the commands as bottles clinked and tables flew across the room, the thumping bass from the club floor below barely audible over the grunts and crashes of the fight. 

“Just… okay, there.” You turned to the bartender: “Do you want me to upgrade this system for you?”

The bartender wanted to answer, but suddenly bent over as a guy was thrown and hit against the wine cellar. He covered his head and screamed, so you raised your eyebrows and took that as a no.

With only three men left standing, they hesitated for a moment, locking eyes with each other as if silently deciding who would make the first move. But that took forever, and Steve was getting bored. He lunged forward, grabbing the nearest man by the collar, lifting him effortlessly before slamming him down onto the tables, the impact scattering bottles and glasses across the floor.

Before the next guy could even react, Steve spun, delivering a swift elbow to the second man’s jaw, sending him reeling backward into a bookshelf, knocking it over with a deafening crash.

The last man, clearly outmatched, pulled out a gun in a desperate attempt to regain control. But Steve was faster. In one fluid motion, he ducked low, dodging the shot, and surged forward, ripping the gun from the man’s hand and delivering a bone-crushing punch to his gut. The man doubled over in pain, gasping for breath, before Steve finished him off with a knee to the face, leaving him crumpled on the ground.

The room was now littered with unconscious bodies, shattered glass, and overturned furniture.

“Wow…” You said in awe. “You didn’t even sweat.” You were thinking that he sweats more when he’s in bed with you.

And he laughed, thinking the same: “I’m saving that for later.”

Just as the dust was settling and Steve was wiping his hands clean, the door burst open, and Tony sauntered in, his suit gleaming in the dim light.

"Everybody freeze!" Iron man said in a mechanical voice behind his helmet, raising his hand and pointing at… nothing. Then he lowered it, noticing the room was still, filled only with men groaning in pain on the floor, while you and Steve rolled your eyes at him.

"What? I was already nearby when Vis delivered the message just three seconds ago. It's not like I'm late..." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of unconscious bodies and broken furniture, clearly unfazed by the chaos, as the team led by Maria and Sam entered the room with their weapons raised.

"Get 'em all; we need intel," Steve sighed as he walked over to you. "There’s a lot of interrogation to do." He pulled you close. "C'mon, let's go home."

It was almost sunrise when you arrived at the compound. You slept a bit in the car, and when the heroes started debating in the command room about the next steps and strategies, you stretched your body and headed to the dressing room yawning.

You needed a cold water shower to clear your mind before helping Tony and Bruce decipher all the information. Plus, you had to get out of this suit that smelled like grilled cement, ashes, and burnt fabric.

Ugh, you were a mess. You opened the locker and started unzipping the gear when you suddenly heard footsteps behind you.

Steve’s arms locked around you before you could turn. He restrained your wrists as a frenzied kiss landed on your lips, fingers laced with yours, pinning you against the wall. While holding you captive with one hand, he explored your wrists with the other.

He was burning.

The kiss deepened, and all the feelings he had been holding back since the car chase, was poured into the embrace. 

He was so turned on by everything that had happened—the adrenaline, the action, the danger, and the risks. He was impressed, and aroused, so fucking aroused.

He knew you were special, but you didn’t even blink during the chaos. 

There were explosives, drones, and the entire freaking Iron Army chasing you in a car, and you didn’t step back an inch.

This unyielding, unwavering, fierce-as-fuck version of you was driving him insane.

“Steve…?” You broke the kiss because you needed air, though you were enjoying it. “Are you okay?” Didn’t you just kind of… escape from death?

“Better than ever.” He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “I need you.” He said this while lowering your gear’s zipper, inhaling as your breasts sprang free from your clothes. He groaned, kneading them with desperate need.

Oh, okay… You moaned, tilting your head back when he sucked and lapped at them. Your gear was only half off as he pulled down your pants, kicked them aside, lifted your leg around his waist, and plunged into your already soaked folds.

Oh, wow. You gasped in awe as your inner walls stretched wide, completely filled by him, and your bodies slamming against the lockers.

And that’s when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking. 

Yup, what you’d been doing every night was making love. But this… 

This was Steve fucking you. And fucking you hard.

The pace was brutal, pounding with relentless intensity. He held your leg and gripped your ass to keep you in position. With one hand on your neck, forcing eye contact, he fucked you harder and harder.

His voice was hoarse and raw, groaning with lust. When he saw you bite your lip to stay quiet, he smiled and quickened his pace.

“I’ve wanted to do this since you kissed me in the nightclub…” He said, his body slamming into yours, locking you against the lockers.

“Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd…” With those images in mind, he murmured in your ear, his thrusts becoming stronger, admiring how waves of pleasure overtook you, making you pressed your leg tighter to his waist, your breath coming in silent gasps, pleading for more.

“Steve…” You could barely whisper. You couldn’t catch your breath as he pounded into you, shaking your body with the force of his thrusts. Your nails dug into his back, trying to hold back your voice, biting your lower lip so the moans wouldn’t escape. You didn’t even know if he had locked the door—someone could walk in at any moment.

But he was so hard, his pace so fast and relentless, completely out of control.

Steve never came before you did. He always made sure you were satisfied first. But this time, he cums when you finally gave in and moaned his name, his release hot and thick inside you.

Before you could even process it, he pulled out and turned you around.

Your breasts hit the lockers as his hands gripped your waist. He positioned you, and just when you were about to inhale, he was inside you again.

Fuck! This felt so good…! Steve never felt this urge, never wanted this so bad, his eyes darkening with further lust and desire, his hands pressing your waist and squeezing your bouncing ass cheek as he sees how he thrusts inside out of you. 

You are so tight, so wet, so fucking perfect for his cock, as you were tailored made for him. He was probably hard since you commanded him in the car, with that badass attitude and fierce determination, and now you were leaning there, with your elbows against the locker, your tits bouncing as he strokes, your ass cheeks marked as he squeezes and rubs them, and your folds still dripping remains of his last cum. Totally at his mercy. 

Fuck, this is hot.

He was going wild. Seeing you trying to mute what at home would be the sweetest or wildest moan, only spur him on, driving him to fuck you with greater velocity, snapping forward with greater intensity. 

“Let go, babe…” He said, snapping his hips forward. Each thrust hit that perfect spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through both of your bodies. “Let it go… Cum for me honey… Come on… I know you’re about to…”

He leaned forward, grabbed your face, and kissed you fiercely, his tongue claiming yours. His hand found your breasts, tweaking and tugging at your nipples until they stiffened, begging for attention.

“Fuck, baby… You feel so good…” His voice was a ragged, hot breath near your ear. His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast circles as he continued to fuck you. 

Your moans were loader, and your clit was so sensitive, it couldn’t take more contact, Steve’s thumbs rubbed faster and stronger, and as he continues to fuck you in your spot, when he feels your walls about to clamp, he just whispers in a determined tone in your ear. “Cum, now.”

It was like he had a switch that controlled your body. Your inner walls clenched at his command, and you gave in, cumming long and hard around his cock, your body trembling. All you were making was lust sounds, mumbling his name, trying to breathe and to recover to the ecstasy that went from your clit to your mind. 

“That’s it, my love…” He smiled with satisfaction, hissing through clenched teeth, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you into another fervent kiss.

When his lips sealed yours, the thrusts became faster and rougher, uncontrollable moans escaping as his hands roamed over your breasts. His movements were frenetic, chasing his own orgasm.

You moved with him, drunk on lust, oblivious to everything else. You felt his hands squeezing harder, his gasps becoming heavier, his cock growing bigger and stronger. Finally, he buried himself inside you, erupting and flooding your depths with a hot load of cum. His hips jerked involuntarily as the last drops spilled inside you, and he was finally satisfied.

“Oh…god… fuck, babe…” He had one hand still rubbing your tits, another pressing your clit and feeling his cum overload your folds, and his body resting in yours, covered with sweat, gear at his feet, when the extreme edge washed over him. “That…was…amazing.”

"Steve..." You panted as he pulled out and turned you around, instantly leaning into him. "I need to sit..." Your knees were weak, and your thighs hurt a little, but in a good way, a very good way.

He let out a soft laugh. "I’m so sorry..." He kissed your forehead as he lifted you onto the bench and covered you with his shirt. "Did I hurt you? Oh..." He winced at the marks on your waist and thighs, nearly bruised from his hands.

"Shit, babe... I’m sorry I got carried away." His voice softened, apologetic. "Does it hurt?" He pressed a kiss on your wrists, where he had also been holding on so tight. "Fuck... I’m sorry."

"No." You grinned and kissed him back. "It was amazing..." You leaned toward him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "I loved it. We should have more missions like this."

"As much as I’d love to..." He smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, holding you close. "I hate the danger around you. But hey..." He hesitated for a moment. "About what I said earlier..."

"'Cum, now'?" You imitated his voice, and he let out a loud laugh.

"No, earlier..."

"Mmm..." You recalled your eidetic memory. "'Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd'?"

Your eyes brightened. "You wanna go back to the nightclub so we can make out?"

Steve actually considered it for a second. "We’ll talk about that later... but no, I meant what I said in the car before the Iron Army attacked us like Ultron’s possessed children."

"Yeah..." You didn’t remember. Well, no, you weren’t listening. "I was distracted by the giant bomb headed toward us, babe... I’m sorry I didn’t hear."

He leaned back, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Okay, what I was saying..." Now he was looking right at you. He cupped your face, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. "I think it’s just been proven how deeply, madly, utterly in love I am with you. I don’t have eyes for anyone else..."

"Ohhh!" Now you connected the dots. "So we’re talking about my insecurities because you hung out with your gorgeous ex-girlfriend all day?"

"She’s not..." Steve sighed, then softened his voice. "Well, there. There’s nothing for you to be insecure about. I love you. Only you. And I think I’ve proven my desire to be with you forever with the ring..."

"What?" Now you were shocked. "Wait, what?" You sat up straight. "Was the ring really... really... a ring?"

"Of course it is. What else would it be?"

"Um... you said it was a tracking device."

"It is." Steve sighed. "But eventually, when all this is over, it will be just a ring that means: you’re the love of my life, and I want to be with you forever." He smiles at your incredulous face, and holds you in his embrace, placing a kiss on your forehead: "In this life, and all the lifetimes to come. I want only you."

You stared at him, speechless, feeling the warmth of his arms around you and the weight of his words settling in. His gaze was so full of love, it made your heart race. For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, but then you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his.

"Steve..." You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything." He replied softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Just... stay with me. That’s all I need."

You smiled, your heart overflowing. "Yes." You kissed him back. "Now. Always. Forever."

"Okay, now that we’re good..." He lifted you up in his arms. "C’mon princess, let’s take a bath, we are a mess here."

Oh. You raised your eyebrows. You don’t know who he’s kidding; you both know how this was going to end.

The End but TBD :)

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

And that's a wrap for chapter 8! Wohoo, I'm so glad I've made it to write a complete smut!! xD I really suck at writing it in english :D So with so many wonderful writers out there, thank you for reading up to here, hope you enjoyed it :D And thanks everyone for participating in the poll last post xD Can't believe fluff won, come on some angst and then a fluff and happy ending won't hurt, right? xD

I'll see you next friday for chapter 9! Wow 9 chapters!! <3

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3

[dollbnuuy]

agere headcanon ask game !

seen a few of these go around and i thought i'd try my hands at making my own! just send me a character and a number :) feel free to rb and do this yourself!

how did they find out about age regression? did they stumble upon it online? did a friend tell them about it?

do they have a specific age or range they regress to, or do they just go off vibes?

why do they regress? is it trauma or stress related? do they regress to go back to simpler times, or to create new memories? what causes them to regress?

is their regression more voluntary or involuntary? do they ever regress without realizing it?

do they ever find themselves only regressing partially, or do they fully drop when they regress?

are they a stuffie or a blankie kid? both? neither?

do they have a caregiver? are they a caregiver/flip?

in what ways are they different when they're regressed? do aspects of their personality or interests change at all? are they similar to how they were when they were an actual kid, or completely different?

do they identify with any specific labels (regressor, flip, pet regressor, etc.)?

do they have any regression gear (teethers, pacifiers, diapers, specific toys or outfits, etc.)? do they try to hide it from friends/family?

do they fall into any 'regressor stereotypes' (baby talk, loving disney movies, liking pastels, etc.), or do they diverge from the 'norm' (liking horror media, regressing to an older age, etc.)?

do they have any specific nicknames for when they regress? how about nicknames they've given to their caregiver(s) or friends?

what do they like to do when they're regressed? do they like to play pretend, watch tv/movies, color, etc.?

what kind of snacks/drinks do they gravitate towards when regressed? do they use a sippy cup or bottle? how about those little divider plates/trays?

what do they wear when they're regressed? do they have specific clothes, or do they just wear whatever is most comfortable? do they have a comfort article of clothing?

where do they tend to regress? do they mostly regress at home, at the park, at a specific friend's house? do they have a specific place they like to go once they're regressed?

do they prefer to play indoors or outdoors? do they get upset when it rains?

do they take naps? if so, do they take them at a specific time, or just nap whenever they feel like it? do they get fussy over having to take one?

what kind of things do you associate with their regression? is their a specific aesthetic or general 'vibe' you think suits them and their regression?

what is age regression to them? what do they like/dislike? are they proud of their regression, or feel a bit more insecure about it?

[wearebarca]

5. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 4,6k

18+ (eventually)

A/N: Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Tell me what you think, be nice, enjoy.

The return to Barcelona wasn’t as smooth as their arrival trip. Rosalie had ended up with a seat next to Lucy, which was good because Lucy knew how to handle the younger brunette on a plane, but she couldn’t shake the slight disappointment she felt when she realized that she wouldn’t be sitting with the captain. Nonetheless she was still happy with her flight partner since she hadn’t seen much of the English woman during this trip.

Lucy had shown up at six at the photographer’s door, in full training gear and running shoes in her hand, and had forced the brunette to go out on a run with her to relax a little before the flight. They had ended up in a park with a track that circled a nice football pitch, and Lucy decided that it would be a great idea to challenge the runner on a race. Rosalie might be an experienced runner, but explosive speed was the older woman’s strength and an hour later, they were both lying on the field, panting like dogs, with Lucy undefeated. Running back was a completely different story for the defender who had used most of her energy on beating the younger woman in sprints. She was glad when she could see the hotel in front of us but groaned when the photographer lightly shoved her and yelled “ Race you there!”

At breakfast, Rosalie sat with her usual group, sandwiched between Keira and Ingrid, who made sure the brunette was occupied with conversation the whole time. Their goal was clear to the photographer who knew that they wanted her to focus on anything other than the plane trip ahead. Unbeknown to the pair, the task of keeping her distracted was already being fulfilled by the blonde sitting a few seats away from her.

Rosalie’s perception of the blonde had changed since their dinner the night before. Being able to spend some time with the captain without the pressure of work or football allowed Rosalie to see another side of the blonde that she hadn’t encountered before. Now, Alexia intrigued even more the photographer who wondered just how many sides the footballer keeps hidden.

Her daydreaming was interrupted by Keira who had been trying to get the French-Canadian's attention for the past minute. “ Hey, Frenchy are you still here with us?”

“ Oui, yes I’m sorry I was caught up in my own thoughts.” The brunette said, turning towards her friends.

“ It’s ok really, we just wanted to know if you were coming to team building night with us?” Ingrid said.

“ Isn’t that for players only?” the brunette said confused. Back with Arsenal, she never got invited to this sort of night, even if she was, or she thought, one of the player’s girlfriends.

“ Not necessarily no. It is just a normal night with friends and we’d like for you to come.” Keira said, smiling at the photographer.

“ I’d love to.” Rosalie said, turning towards Ingrid. “ When would that be?”

“ We were thinking about two weeks from now, after the game against Levante. I’m just trying to see how many we’re gonna be so I can make a reservation at the restaurant.” The Norwegian said, picking up her phone to look at options. The rest of the breakfast was spent organizing the supper, allowing the photographer to forget about their approaching departure. Unfortunately, her feeling of dread and anxiety came rushing back as soon as she picked up her luggage from the bus and walked towards the terminal. The flight went relatively well for the brunette, who stayed wide awake this time, leaning against Lucy while a bad comedy was playing on the small screen in front of them.

Alexia, who was a few seats behind the duo, could not help but wonder how the smaller woman was fairing and finally succumbed to her urge to make sure the photographer was alright by getting up and quickly trying to find something to say to justify her presence next to them. As she arrived at their seat, a small smile crept on her face at the sight of the brunette bundled up in her oversized hoodie, with her hood engulfing her head almost entirely. She crouched down next to her and took her hand in her own to give it a light squeeze. Without letting the photographer’s hand go, she turned her attention to the defender. “ Could you remind me again of yours and Keira’s departure dates for international break?” She asked the English woman who seemed surprised by the question.

“ Yeah sure mate,” she said, pulling out her phone to check her emails. “ Why do you need to know so soon? Isn’t it in almost two months?” she asked

“ Uhh, I’m just planning ahead.” She said, hoping that the older woman would not see through the real reason for her presence here. Meanwhile, the photographer had significantly relaxed since the captain had arrived next to her, and was putting all her focus on the way the blonde’s thumb was tracing soothing patterns on the back of her hand.

Too soon for the brunette’s liking, Lucy found the email with the dates she was looking for and gave them to Alexia, who had no more reason to stay with them. She gave one last squeeze to the photographer’s hand and walked back to her seat. Lucy, who was far from dumb, had a good idea of exactly why her captain had come to their row, and it surely wasn’t to know their departure’s dates. She sent a look to the younger woman, who simply answered with one that clearly said, : “Not now Luce.”

It was the middle of the afternoon when the brunette finally stepped in the comfort of her small apartment. She refused to let it show too much during their trip, but she was truly exhausted from the strain two plane rides in such a short amount of time had had on her, and as soon as her body hit the bed, she was gone and did not wake up until the morning after. The rest of her weekend was spent mostly working on the editing of the shots she had taken during their day off and training. She decided to go check out the Olympic pool near her place and swim a few laps to allow her body to recover from the week's intense running sessions.

For the players, the week after a match was always slower than their usual training, but for the rest of the staff, it was when their schedules would be the most hectic. Rosalie started her week by following a few players on a media appearance for a foundation that helps little girls persevere in sports, then it was media day which took by storm the whole training complex. Various interviews and fun videos were being filmed all over the facility and Rosalie’s job was to roam from station to station and capture the girls during their appearances. On top of that, the brunette had her usual training content to shoot and edit.

This week’s workload meant that coffee with her favourite couple wasn’t possible, which saddened them even though they understood why. Rosalie also postponed her night with the English couple who were very eager to bombard the Canadian with all the questions they had so nicely kept to themselves during the trip. It was a relief for the brunette, who knew that sooner or later, she would have to go through her best friend’s interrogation.

Weekend couldn't come soon enough for Rosalie. Friday would be a bittersweet day for the photographer who had to finish and send the media day content tonight at the latest for their release the next day, which most likely meant a late night at the office again. Her hunch turned out to be right as she checked the clock around four and realized that she wasn’t nearly done. The girls had already left and the training facility was dead silent when the photographer left her office. Rosalie almost jumped at the sound of her ringtone echoing in the empty car park. The name that lit up her screen made the brunette’s eyes roll as she picked up the call.

“ Non.”

“ Oui.”

“ Non, je viens de finir de travailler, Je suis complètement brûlée, pas ce soir.” Rosalie said in a whiny tone as she all but threw her bags in the backseat of her small sedan.

“Too late, we're already at your place darling.” Lucy said laughing. Rosalie could hear Keira whine in the background for her to come quickly because she was tired of waiting to eat. “ We brought your favourite, now get your arse here, we’ve got questions that need answering.” The defender didn’t even wait for the younger girl’s answer and hung up.

“Mais quel enfoiré.” Rosalie took all the detours humanly possible, just to annoy the older woman. At the sight of Lucy waiting by the stairs of her apartment, Rosalie felt like a child getting scolded by her mum. She took a deep breath and climbed the few stairs that were left between her and her apartment.

“ Took you long enough.”

“ Traffic, ya know”

“ Fuck off you cunt you did this just to fuck with us.” Lucy said as she followed the Canadian back in her flat.

“ Woah woah votre langage madame Bronze.”

“ You’re lucky we like you Frenchy.” She pulled out the bags of fish and chips she had brought while Rosalie pulled out beers for everyone. She eagerly took the plate that was handed to her and made a face at the first bite.

“ I know, it’s not like back home.” Keira said, stealing a few chips from Rosalie’s plate.

“ It doesn’t taste bad, it just does not deserve the title of fish and chips.” Rosalie said, bringing her plate and beer to the couch. The two women followed her, Keira beside her on the couch and Lucy on the ground, on the other side of the coffee table.

“ Ok I’m done waiting so now, what the hell is going on with you and Alexia.”Rosalie almost choked on her fish at the younger English woman’s question.

“ There’s nothing going on”

“ What do you mean? There’s nothing going on. She keeps staring at you!” Keira said in an animated tone.

“Rosalie, you fell asleep on her shoulder, in the goddamn plane.” Lucy added. The brunette was cornered, she could not lie to these girls, they were her family, they knew her too well.

“ She’s just.. she’s easy company you know. We get along nice.” She said, hoping that would be enough for them, but she knew it definitely would not be.

“ We all saw how you were looking at her on the last morning of the trip. You haven’t looked at anyone like that before, not even…”

“Don’t,” Rosalie quickly interrupted. She didn’t want to compare Alexia, even in the slightest bit, to the Irish defender. “ She’s just very intriguing, you know. I haven’t quite met anyone like her before.”

“ She’s a pure soul, that one,” Lucy said, staring at her best friend who was currently looking everywhere but at the two friends. “ She’s shy and closed off but once she opens up, she is truly one of the most authentic girls I’ve met.” She said with a fond smile playing on her lips.

“ Why are you guys telling me all this?” Rosalie asked. Sure, she understood that these women were her family and they simply wanted to know what was going on but this felt like more than the usual interrogation she would be subjected to. It almost felt like they were encouraging the photographer to pursue whatever was going on between the brunette and the blonde.

“ No reason in particular, we just want you to be happy.” Keira said, trapping the brunette in a hug.

“Ok you can let me go now, you’re crushing me” they stayed silent for a moment, contempt in eating their food and unwinding after their week, until Keira decided to break the silence.

“ She talks about you, you know? With Mapi and some of the Spanish players. They think I’m not good enough in Spanish to understand when they speak fast, but I’m better now, and I can understand some stuff.” Keira said, happily stealing more chips from the photographer’s plate, who was too stunt by the woman’s statement to react. Lucy on the other hand, could not hold back the laugh that came out when she saw the look on the younger woman’s face. A deep blush formed on her cheek as she got off the couch and walked to the kitchen to put away her plate.

“I’m sure it was probably something about the shoot or the most recent post.” Rosalie said, trying to occupy herself until her face would turn back to its original colour.

“ No, no I heard your name, than “guapa” was somewhere in there and then they all agreed.”

“ Kei seriously, that could be about anything.”

“ I’m telling you, they were talking about you.” Keira said with a wide teasing grin on her face. They went back and forth like that for a few minutes while Lucy was laughing at the interaction. The couple ended up staying over until past midnight before finally deciding to make their way home.

“ By the way, you’re coming to the beach tomorrow, I’ll send you the time and address!” Lucy said as she stepped out of the brunette’s apartment and closed the door behind her, not leaving time for her to give an actual answer.

The next day she woke up with a text from Lucy only containing a time and an address for a beach not too far from the city. Rosalie had no idea what to bring for this occasion so she assumed that since they were meeting up around lunch time, she should probably pack some food, a quick call to Keira confirmed her suspicion and allowed her to also add beer to the list of things to bring. She put on her favourite bikini with a pair of linen shorts and a swimsuit cover, grabbed her camera bag and her backpack and hopped in her car.

The Canadian had never gone through this part of the city and decided to go explore it on her next run. Her GPS led her to a small parking area in front of a path in the woods. She parked between Lucy’s Cupra and another car that looked similar to Lucy’s but wasn’t familiar to the brunette. On the other side of the car park, she spotted Mapi and Ingrid’s car as well as other nice vehicles that probably belonged to Barça players. When she arrived on the beach, Rosalie realized that this was more than just a hangout between a few friends. Lucy and Keira were here, along with Mapi and Ingrid, Patri, Pina, Vicky, Jana, Aitana, mariona and finally, Alexia.

Barking was heard along with the sound of rapid little steps coming her way. She was greeted with a small white dog she knew very well, along with a small pomeranian. Narla jumped around at Rosalie’s feet, too excited for the Canadian to pet her, but the small pomeranian kept scratching at her leg. The photographer bent down and picked up the small fluffy dog, who immediately licked her face.

A chorus of “Hola”’s and happy cheers was heard as the French-Canadian made her way towards the group, with the small dog still in her arms. “ Finally! We were starting to think you got lost on your way.” Mapi said, hugging her friend tightly and taking the bags in the brunette’s hands so she could greet the rest of the girls.

“ Blame Lucy, she told me to be here at twelve.”

“ I see you met Nala.” Ingrid said, approaching the photographer, hugging her gently to not crush the ball of fur who was getting comfortable in the brunette’s arms.

“ Oui, she’s a little angel,” She said, kissing the top of the dog’s head, “ Who’s the lucky owner? Gotta know who I need to fight in order to bring her home.” She said laughing.

“She’s Alexia’s.” Mapi said, with a cheeky smile, “ She usually takes a while to warm up to people.” Rosalie could feel the blush that was creeping up her cheeks.

“ Good to know…”

“ Ok, can we eat now? I’m starving.” Mapi said as she turned around, to make her way towards the coolers. Ingrid smiled at her girlfriend’s antics and beckoned the French-Canadian to follow her towards the rest of the group. She helped Ingrid and Aitana set up the little potluck while the rest of the girls were setting up some beach chairs and towels around. The sun was high in the sky and not a single cloud could be seen, the heat was quickly getting to the Canadian who decided that the swimsuit cover was not helping cooling her off. She got up and took off the shirt, her actions not missed by a certain blonde, who was in the middle of a game of touch. The action made Alexia completely miss, which made the little group snicker at their captain.

“Capitán, debería limpiarse la baba de las comisuras de la boca.!” Patri said, laughing at her captain 's flustered face.

“ Oy, callate idiota!” To be fair, Alexia was not the only one staring. The photographer had put on a dark green bikini that complemented perfectly her tanned skin and showed off her athletic figure.

“ Ella es muy caliente.” The comment came from Pina, who received a sharp slap to the back of her head.

“Behave”

“ Si Capitana.”

The food was finally set up and the group was called back by the rest of the girls to come eat. Rosalie mainly stayed with Ingrid and Aitana since she still wasn’t used to being with this many new people at once. She quickly found out that there was absolutely no reason to be shy around the girls. The atmosphere was very playful and the air was filled with laughter and bickering in broken English since they all knew that Rosalie and Keira weren’t completely comfortable in Spanish.

“ Rosie! If you want to make your Spanish better, I know someone who’s a very good teacher.” Patri said with a shit eating grin.

“ Si, si very patient, very good teacher. She would love to teach you, right Capitana?” Pina added, trying to hold back her laugh. The look the captain sent the girls would have scared anyone in their right mind, but the younger players were too busy laughing to notice their captain’s wrath coming their way. A sharp cry and a whine was heard when the football connected with the side of Pina’s head.

“Cállate, te lo merecías.” Alexia said as she pushed the younger girl towards the area they had been playing previously.

“ I don’t know if they were serious or not, but I kinda really do need help with Spanish. The online courses I’ve been taking are little to no help with understanding native speakers.” The brunette said as she set up her towel between Ingrid and another towel.

“I’m sure she would love to help.” Ingrid said with a knowing smile. The light sound of little paws hitting the sand caught the attention of the photographer who turned her head to see Nala strut her way. The little dog came over to the photographer to get a few pets then made a beeline to the towel next to her to pick up a little chew toy. Nalla then turned to make her way back to Rosalie to lay right in the middle of her towel. Rosalie laughed at the little dog’s antics while Ingrid smiled and turned to her friend.

“Now that your spot has been taken, you should go show these children how it’s done.” She said, motioning to the little group playing a game of touch. Mapi’s head shot up at her girlfriend’s words.

“ Yes, yes, let’s go, I want to see what you are capable of.” Rosalie let Mapi drag her up and to the group. She stood between Patri and Mapi and after a few passes, she was just as excited and hyped as the rest of the girls. They played for a while, working up a sweat with the sand sticking to their skin. Even though the brunette was focused on the game, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the blonde captain. She looked gorgeous in her light blue bikini, tanned skin glowing in the sunlight. She looked so carefree and genuinely happy. Their eyes met and both the women smiled wildly, until a particularly daring kick sent the ball straight to the ocean.

“ Rosie! You are a runner, si?” Patri said, lightly shoving the brunette to get her attention. “ The first to get to the ball gets to dunk the other one in the ocean!” She yelled, already taking off full speed towards the waves.

“ Hey! Non, that’s not fair!” She said laughing as she took off behind the midfielder who had too great of a head start for the Canadian to be able to catch up to her.

As soon as she reached the ball, she felt hands grab her by the waist and hoist her up only to launch her straight in the water. The photographer let out a loud shriek as she hit the cold refreshing waters. She could hear behind her the cheers of the rest of the girls who had made their way to Patri.

Rosalie walked out of the water, slicking her hair back with a sinister smile as she approached Patri, who was still caught in an uncontrollable laughter. She jumped on the player’s back and dragged her down in the water with her. Alexia saw this as an opportunity to get back at Pina for the teasing and grabbed the younger player, hoisting her on her shoulders and walking off in the water to dump her near the two other women who were busy splashing each other.

They all stay in the water for a while, teaming up against one another in a slashing battle. Patri and Rosalie against Claudia and Alexia. The footballers weren’t playing around and Rosalie quickly realized that she was in over her head. For the second time today, a pair of hands landed on her hips but this time, the touch sent shivers down the brunette’s back. She went still which allowed Alexia to swiftly pick her up as she carried the photographer away from the two other Spanish women, too busy bickering and slashing each other to notice the absence of their friends.

The midfielder set Rosalie down, but her hands on her hips stayed until she decided the woman was stable enough on her feet. “ I am sorry, I thought that you looked a little overwhelmed out there," she said, smiling at the smaller woman.

“They do play a little too rough for me.” she said, following Alexia as she started walking deeper in the sea. She was silent, only looking at the water stretching endlessly in front of her. Rosalie could see that something was bothering the blonde. Her beautiful smile had faded and her eyes held a worried look. “I can sense something is not right.” She said softly to the blonde who turned to look at the photographer.

“ It’s just that, the euros are getting nearer, national camp is in a few weeks and the girls are a little on edge with everything that has been going on lately.” The photographer was aware of the tensions in the national football scene in Spain. She knew that the players were fighting for better conditions and better treatment from the coaches, and she knew that this fight had cost some of the girls their chance to represent their country in some of the most important sports events. It was hard for the girls who had to stay behind . It was also hard for the ones who had decided to stay with the team but were enduring the poor treatment from the staff and management. Seeing these girls today, so happy and carefree, she could not fathom just how much pressure was resting on their shoulders.

“ Days like these are important, you know,” The photographer said, getting closer to the captain. “ They help unwind, allow you to forget about everything you know?”

“ I’m not very good at relaxing.” The blonde said, chuckling.

“ What do you like to do on your days off?”

“ I don’t know, I don’t get a lot of those.”

“ Ok, so what would a perfect day off be for La Reina?” The photographer said with a cheeky smile. Alexia gave the photographer a big eye roll before answering.

“ Probably going to get coffee, walk around the market. Maybe buy supplies to cook a nice supper and relax with a movie. Something simple I guess.” Alexia said with a distant look in her eyes. In this moment, Rosalie wished she could take all the pressure on the blonde’s shoulders and carry it for her for a little while, just so she could catch her breath. Unable to do such a thing, the brunette thought of the next best thing.

“ Tomorrow there’s no training right?”

“ Si, no training.”

“ And you don’t have anything planned?”

“ I was gonna train alone and work on some side projects, why?”

“ No you are not, because tomorrow, you are bringing me to your favourite coffee shop and to that market you talked about. Then you are coming back to my place and I’d like you to show me how to make Paella. I've always wanted to try making it but my cooking skills are horrendous.” Rosaie said in a tone that left no space for arguing. Alexia smiled at the smaller woman, she was surprised by the French-Canadian’s proposition but could not be happier with the turn this conversation took. She took the brunette’s hand and brought it to her lips. The action made Rosalie freeze on the spot as she felt the blonde’s lips graze the back of her hand, which sent a shock wave that traveled her whole body and made her breath hitch.

“ It is a date then.” Alexia said, letting the brunette’s hand go and walking back to the beach with a wide smile plastered on her face. Rosalie on the other hand, was still frozen at the same spot, trying to gather exactly what had happened between them. A deep blush had crept on her face and the woman felt hot all over. She lowered herself in the water, dunking her head to try and cool herself off, or wake up for this dream, but she emerged at the same spot, with the silhouette of the footballer walking in front of her, almost reaching the rest of the group, who was now sunbathing.

Walking back to her towel, she could see that Nala had moved to the top of Alexia's towel, near the blonde’s head. She was laying on her stomach, which allowed the photographer a clear view of the multitude of tattoos on the captain’s back. The photographer got comfortable on her back and shoved one airpod in her ear, leaving the other one free to hear the crash of the waves on the sand. She felt something fluffy brush against her hand and opened her eyes to see Nala had changed spots again, deciding to lay between the two women, making sure she was touching Alexia and Rosalie’s hand at once. With the soft music playing in her ear, the sound of the ocean and Alexia’s calming presence, Rosalies quickly surrendered to the week’s exhaustion and let herself drift to sleep.

[eriexplosion]

Tech Lives: An Ungodly Long Essay

(AKA: Turns out that my Tech Lives compilation post comment was actually a threat.)

There have been hundreds if not thousands of posts since Plan 99 aired wondering if Tech might have made it after his fall - it's probably been brought up more than any other hanging plot point, even after season 2 scooped up Omega and left us on a massive cliffhanger. Now that season 3 has started, though, Omega and Crosshair are home (for now) but we have received an almost aggressive lack of Tech info. So, I've gathered up some of the stronger Evidence for why Tech might be fashionably late but still on his way back from The Void!

THE LEAD UP

So to start, let's go back to what came before the whole Incident. This will focus mostly on season 2, seeing as that was definitely Tech's season to shine, but with bits about plotlines in season 1. Which brings us to our first bit, that's not really evidence so much as some gentle push-back on a common argument.

Doomed By Character Development?

We've all seen this particular situation before - a character is slated for a tragic death, so just before it happens the writers gives them a little extra relevance to the plot to make sure the audience really feels it when the time comes. The Clone Wars was especially good at this, giving characters like Fives an arc of his own that ended in his tragic death. Season 7 gave us a better look at Jesse, first in the Bad Batch's intro arc and then again through the Siege of Mandalore, all to bring us to the chip activation that led to his ultimate death.

When season 2 started off with one of the two intro episodes spotlighting Tech and our first breather episode of the season also spotlighting him, people started to get worried. So is it fair to say that his spotlight in season 2 was setting him up for a permadeath?

Looking at it, I don't think so, for multiple reasons. For one, Tech didn't just get a spotlight episode, his development dominated a good chunk of the whole damned season, often taking priority over the other characters that wouldn't be dropped into the mists. While giving a little bit of character development to a doomed character can be a good move, giving ALL your development to a doomed character ends up feeling like a good portion of your season was actively pointless.

The Bad Batch is not an open ended show. It seems to have been planned for the three seasons it got, and they would have gone into it knowing they had a set amount of time to work with. Dedicating so much time to developing Tech in preparation for a character death takes away all of their opportunity to develop, well, anything else.

But, along with the amount of time that was dedicated to Tech as a character through season 2, they also didn't develop him in the ways that most often get used for a doomed character. Namely...

That Sure Is A Lot Of Open Plot Lines

And not one of them got tied up. Currently, Tech has two open plot lines to himself, both started in season 2, as well as a key place in the overall show narrative arc. As the overall show narrative arc takes precedence, we'll start with that.

The Bad Batch sets up a few different narrative arcs very early. One is if clones can be more than soldiers - this is the central thing that we see them struggling against from the start, they've been created to be soldiers and don't know much else about how to function in the world. Theoretically this arc can be fulfilled with one or two of them still dying as soldiers, as long as a few of them make it to find a new life for themselves.

The arc that can't be fulfilled without everyone though is the ongoing thread of reuniting the batch. Much of the show is geared towards making the viewer want this specific end result, as soon as they talk about Crosshair, Omega says they'll just have to get him back and complete their family. The end of season 1 teases us with this only to pull it away at the last moment, then season 2 teases us with it again only to yet again pull it away, this time seemingly permanently.

Ending one of your key narrative threads you've been using to draw audiences in only 2/3rds of the way into the show and without ever resolving it... well it would be a choice. If Tech is gone for good then the last time we saw everyone together would be the end of season 1. Rewatches would lack impact because something that was made to seem so vital ended up going nowhere, and the series finale would never quite reach the height that hearing the full batch theme kick in over the team fighting droids together did. It absolutely destroys the central narrative to leave him gone without ever having reunited the family.

And then there's his personal plots.

Let's start with the obvious one. Tech got a whole potential love interest this season and they absolutely did not resolve a damn thing about it.

Again, this takes a trope that we all know - the young army man that's going to go home and finally marry his girl, who has his whole life ahead of him, but dies tragically in his final mission - and seemingly intentionally subverts the beats. Because what makes the trope work is that the plot line is resolved as soon as that young man decides how he's going to move forward. He can't die uncertain of if he's going to marry his girl, he has to make a decision, and the longer we spend on the relationship to his girl the stronger the decision has to be to consider the narrative line resolved and free him up for some tragedy.

Tech/Phee is a tentative little 'will they or won't they' romance. They're flirting, they're feeling each other out, they're seeing if they're compatible. To tie up this narrative line we would have to find out if they are or not, get a yes or a no on the question. Will they or won't they? We simply don't know because the writers didn't put a resolution in.

We do get the traditional pre-mission scene with them, which would normally be when we get the first kiss or perhaps the promise of a date, either of which would have had me digging Tech's grave for him to fall into from the second it happened. Or even a 'we can't do this right now, but maybe some day it will be the right time' which would have been a kind of lukewarm resolution but would have at least represented a decision.

Instead we get a scene that almost aggressively refuses to resolve anything. They have an awkward interaction, but not one that says they won't get together, no promises are made for the future, no decision point is reached, and the plot line is still dangling wide open when Tech falls to his supposed death. If we truly leave it off here, well, what was the Tech/Phee subplot for? Why did we spend precious time on it when it could have been spent on something else, if it was meant to make Tech's death hit harder why did it not go further?

A second subplot with Tech is that he certainly made the most progress on seeing options outside of the Empire - it starts early on in Ruins of War when he meets Romar and gets his eyes opened to the idea of cultures that existed unconnected to the war. Serenno existed before the war and before the separatists, and Romar introduces Tech to that idea of an ongoing culture. He gets a taste of racing in front of a cheering crowd, leans further into his teaching of Omega and gets new insights from her regarding their lives as soldiers, his relationship with Phee picks up right when he finds out that she is interested in the preservation of cultures. It's a quiet little subplot, but Tech was seeing the full scope of what the galaxy contained beyond being a soldier in a war.

But, like the Tech/Phee, it never resolves. He never decides to settle down, he never chooses to stop being a soldier or even openly discusses the idea of what life will look like after. Rescuing Crosshair isn't positioned as a final mission that they have to complete in order to give up their lives as soldiers. Without that decision point being reached, the plot stays open, we never find out what he Would Have Done so we don't get a sense of the future that he would lose by dying, which is what the purpose of these types of plots is for a planned permadeath.

The Kaminoans don't create without purpose and writers working on a three season timeline don't typically write without it either. So if we spent the time on Tech/Phee but Tech is dead before it ever went anywhere, if we spent time on Tech's relationship with being something other than a soldier but he never really pursues it, what is the payoff?

Too Much of a Survivor To Die?

There's also the matter of how they chose to build Tech's character this season. Namely they beefed that man's skills up incredibly high making it intensely unbelievable that he's dead without seeing some sort of concrete proof. Things we know about Tech as of the end of season 2 include:

Incredible pain tolerance - Tech fractures his femur in Ruins of War and seems shockingly unbothered by it. The femur is frequently listed as one of the most painful bones to break. This is not a broken toe the man is hobbling around on, he fractured the strongest bone in the body and kept going through the woods. He physically fought and killed a man with that busted femur.

Lightning fast mental processing - this is of course on display nowhere so much as Faster where he's put up against droids and wins by taking calculated risks that no one else is willing to try.

A cool head in stressful circumstances - this one is hilarious because he outright says it, but Tech does demonstrate time and time again that when it comes down to it, he's able to keep calm no matter the circumstances.

Essentially, we spend the entirety of season 2 setting up why Tech is the perfect person to drop out of the sky and have him survive. He has the ability to keep calm and come up with a plan in seconds and he has the grit to keep moving even if he's grievously injured once he hits the ground. When you set a character up like this, you can still kill them, but you have to work harder to do it convincingly. Leaving Tech not at the moment of death but with probably at least a minute to act in and then not showing us the body is the exact opposite.

We have a moment in The Crossing showing us Tech's precise aim, and it comes up again to brutal effect when he shoots out the connection on the rail car. If moments through the season were used to set up that particular instant of the finale, then we can't discount the numerous scenes demonstrating his survival skills as being irrelevant to his chances.

Plus, looking back at Ruins of War - one of the big moments in the episode is towards the end, where Romar tells Tech, "I'm a survivor. Remember?" The camera then lingers on Tech for a long moment. It's not the kind of action that demonstrates his capabilities as above, but it works to associate the words with Tech in the viewers mind. Romar is a survivor, and Tech is a survivor too. And when you intend to kill someone off, it's kind of an odd choice to spend that whole season setting them up as a survivor.

THE FALL

Which brings us to the scene itself. Plan 99, implied to be one of the last ditch plans that they have. It's absolutely a heartbreaking scene, and one that can be tough to analyze when it's so well done, because it's rough to watch repeatedly. But, it's worth doing, because the scene itself is FULL of questions, some structural others more based in the visual presentation.

What is Plan 99?

Well, that's just it, we don't actually know.

We know what it's implied to be, a self sacrifice plan where one of the batch gives their life for the others to get away. But in show it's never actually defined, leaving the full meaning of Plan 99 up to interpretation. It could be as simple as what it's implied to be, but that brings up questions like 'why not provide any lead up or foreshadowing for it?' and 'does killing yourself actually count as a plan?'

Removing the assumptions from it gives us room to speculate. Is the plan actually that they leave him behind, dead or alive? Hunter ordered them to do so without a plan number in season 1, but he is the sergeant, so plan 99 could easily be something that bypasses his authority - if a batcher calls a plan 99, you go and you don't question his decision. It's certainly closer to a plan if there's something they are supposed to be doing from their end rather than just an announcement of intent.

It's not strictly evidence one way or another, but it is something of note when Tech's entire sacrifice is based around a plan that we're not privy to the details of. TBB has hidden its twists in ambiguity before, so it would not be the first time that it let us assume something only to pull the rug out later. But ambiguity is not the only thing that makes this scene stand out in the raising questions department.

Pacing Goes Out The Window

Generally speaking, a self sacrifice is the climax of an episode. Think Kanan, Hardcase, Gregor, Hevy, etc - Even a minor character sacrificing their life tends to make up the most climactic portion of any given episode, let alone one of the characters from the title squad. It gets to be the big central moment, the big rush of music and feeling, the pinnacle of the viewers attention.

Tech's sacrifice is not. It happens around 5 minutes into the episode, is rapidly moved past with barely a moment to think, and then the actual climax is Omega's capture on Ord Mantell. They even repeat the music when Omega is captured, except much stronger this time, making it clear that this is the emotional crux of the episode, this is the scene that is supposed to stick with you.

The opportunity to make it the climax of an episode was certainly there. The storyline could have been adjusted to put Tech's fall at the end of The Summit, allowing more time in Plan 99 for processing his loss and making it feel final. The pacing choice is one that doesn't allow the viewer to process the loss, only giving us maybe a couple minutes of time with actual emotional reactions before we're barreling off to the next plot point. Why was Tech's death de-emphasized within the episode if it is indeed our last moment with this central character?

Tarkin, Eriadu, & Saw Gerrera

A lot goes into the set-up for Plan 99. We have Tarkin's base on Eriadu as the setting they're working within, going up against Tarkin for the first time since early season 1. This is the big leagues, and something that's come up in multiple interviews is that when going into the den of one of the franchise's big bads we have to have consequences, something to demonstrate that Tarkin is not to be trifled with.

Sounds reasonable enough. Except Tarkin doesn't actually do anything in either of these episodes. The thing that actually threw them off was Saw's planning mixing in with their own.

All Tarkin does upon finding out that the batch is stuck on the rail is order an air strike and ignore that this would kill many of his own men. This is certainly evil, but it's standard Imperial evil. Rampart would have given that order. Hemlock would have given that order. The guy in Tipping Point that we know for 5 minutes before he fried himself would have given that order.

So if the point of this finale was to demonstrate Tarkin's power, then bringing Saw in both complicates the plot and devalues what they're claiming they are trying to show. So is the point to get them to Tantiss? No, because they fail in that. They don't plant the tracker, they're no closer to finding Crosshair than they were before.

By all accounts the point of the whole endeavor is in fact just to drop Tech off a sky rail for reasons unknown and injure Omega to force them to go back to Ord Mantell. These two things could have happened anywhere in any way of course, so why choose Eriadu and why choose to complicate the plot by introducing Saw rather than letting Tarkin handle the job?

They're questions we don't have answers to yet, but they're very hard to get answers to if Tech is dead and completely out of the picture. Having a dead body on Eriadu is fairly useless to the plot, having a living Tech on Eriadu though? That has potential to move them huge leaps forward in a very short amount of time once we bring him back in. Especially given his conversation with Saw prior to everything going downhill - Tech was in favor of gathering intel from the facility rather than destroying it.

And what about Saw, anyway? If he was genuinely there to cause problems and fly away, again, that's a plot wrinkle that isn't needed and took time away from everything else. If he's there because they needed someone to pick Tech up though? There's potential there.

Did Tech's Sacrifice Mean Anything?

In universe, Tech's sacrifice means everything, of course. It's a decision made in the moment to risk everything to save his family. It's a noble deed and one he does without hesitation. But pulling away from that narrow scope of an in universe perspective, what did we accomplish narratively with his fall?

Well... not much actually! They got over the bump in the road that they encountered all of five seconds ago and promptly crashed headfirst into another, different bump in the road. Tech's dramatic sacrifice didn't allow them to escape unharmed, it didn't allow them to find Crosshair, it just allowed them to move a few steps forward, after which Omega is almost killed and then captured, which is a fairly weak reason to sacrifice a whole major character.

But not every character death is exclusively about narrative, sometimes it's about the character arc itself. So does this close out anything for Tech's character development? Again, not really. Tech has always been completely loyal to the squad and would have risked anything for his family. He never had a choice not to fall, it was either just him or the whole team, and he is an endlessly logical actor. The action would have played out the same had it happened in the series premier or the season 1 finale, or any other time in the show. If anything it's a backtrack on his character by putting him solidly back into the soldier box that the show is trying to let the clones grow out of.

Maybe it's not about Tech's character though, maybe it's about everyone else's! Does his death change anyone's trajectory? Again... no, not really. We'll get into season 3's lack of mentioning Tech later, but in the immediate aftermath of his fall, no one's course or actions is majorly changed because of his loss. Hunter wants to go back to Pabu where it's safe, the same thing he wanted to do before they ever left for this mission. Omega puts herself in danger to save her brothers, which has been one of her defining traits since season one. Wrecker is following Hunter's lead, same as he always did. (We get very little of what Echo hopes to do, but the opening of season 3 reveals that they went back to work with Rex, exactly like they were doing before.)

So narratively nothing required him to die, the character's arc isn't completed, and the other characters aren't motivated to change. If Tech dies here, it's the picture of a shock value death. It doesn't complete or inform his character, it doesn't need to narratively happen in order to put Omega on the path to being captured, and thematically it exists just to give the viewer an unnecessary gut-punch when just the failure to rescue Crosshair and the loss of Omega would have been enough.

Framing is Everything

In a death scene there's nothing more powerful than our final shot of a character. The very last we'll ever see of them, the image that will linger in our minds when we think of that character from then on. This is especially important in animation where everything has to go through several iterations before deciding on what that final look will be. You want it to be impactful, you want the audience to have one final connection to the character before they're gone for good.

So why does Tech die with his helmet on?

If there's one thing TBB is good at, it's their expression work, and a death scene is a perfect place to show off their full range, which is why most deaths meant to have a heavy impact occur with faces unobscured. Crosshair loses his helmet and takes Mayday's off so we can see both of their faces as Mayday dies, Slip, Cade, even Clone X and Wilco, all die helmetless. Looking into older series you have Kanan dying without his mask, Fives, Hardcase, Waxer all dying helmetless with one last good look at their faces and expressions.

And while Tech's helmet gives us a good look at his eyes, the rest of his face goes unseen, and Wrecker's face as he watches this happen is completely obscured. We're denied a look at a lot of their expressions as the decision is made and Plan 99 is executed, rendering it less personal than it otherwise could have been. Tech could have lost his helmet in the blast that knocked him from the rail, Wrecker could have had his helmet knocked off at some point to give us a good look at his expression. TBB isn't known for pulling its punches, so why leave our final look at Tech's face back in The Summit and not here?

Then there's the framing choices. We get some absolutely amazing shots of Tech during the fall, from taking the shot to falling backwards towards the cloudy cover - but here's where some interesting choices are made. Rather than letting our last shot of him be a face up shot that keeps eye contact with the camera as he falls, they make the choice to have him flip over, and we hold the shot as the rail car goes down after him, partially obscuring him.

Which means instead of our last glimpse of Tech being something like this.

We end up with something closer to this.

Which, while we all love those Tech crotch shots is somewhat less impactful emotionally. These frames go through multiple departments and get multiple eyes on them before going through final animation, and no one thought that leaving him face up and unobscured until he disappears into the fog would stick more firmly in the viewer's memory?

The Flip Might be Intentional

And I don't just mean out of universe, as every detail of animation is often intentional, but in universe as well. If you look closely at Tech as he falls, he seems to roll his shoulders back in order to begin flipping over. It was a specific enough detail to send me searching for a reason and I found it in instructions on how to survive a long fall - the first thing that you're supposed to do? Get into the arch position like a skydiver to slow and control your fall.

The flip was important enough to not only include but to include the small detail of Tech intentionally flipping himself over into said position. It's not a confirmation but it's an interesting detail, and one that has very few other reasons to exist.

THE AFTERMATH

Image chosen because even thinking he's alive I didn't want to pull from Omega reacting to the fall on Ord Mantell. Looking at her makes me Sad. So the fall has happened, the rail car has rushed forward and crashed, and Omega fades in and out of consciousness until finally waking up on Ord Mantell to the bad news.

"What if he's hurt?"

Omega is our POV character for the show. We may sometimes see things she doesn't, but emotionally she remains the center of the narrative, the character that the target audience will see themselves in. Her ultimate thoughts on a situation are the closest we have to a clear indicator of our intended takeaway.

So it's interesting that the first thing we hear out of her, having heard that Tech 'didn't make it,' is a firm denial. He can't be gone, he might be hurt, he needs them and they need to go back for him. And, despite Hunter continuing to talk with her about it for a bit, we never actually hear Omega explicitly take it back or verbally acknowledge Tech as dead. The closest we get is 'lost' which she also uses for Echo in The Crossing.

Now, here's where the interpretation between the adult and child audience will likely differ. From an adult perspective, this is a reasonable reaction for a child her age. It comes off as very natural that she doesn't want to accept it and that she doesn't have time to really process that it's true before the scene moves on. It makes sense from an in universe perspective.

However, the main audience is still children who actually are Omega's age and who are being presented with her as their window into this world. And their takeaway, seeing that same scene, is likely to be that Omega is correct. They don't know that Tech's dead, just because an adult says it doesn't make it true and just because Hemlock says it DEFINITELY doesn't mean it's true, they have to go back and check.

If they wanted the main audience to think that Tech is dead for sure, they could have had Omega be the one to say that he's gone, with Hunter simply confirming it for her. Alternatively, Omega accepting it when Hunter tells her would also function in the same way - ultimately, as the POV character, if Omega doesn't accept it there's a strong possibility much of the audience won't accept it either, especially without other evidence.

No Body?

And, as we all know, we simply don't have other concrete evidence. Not only are the batch given no time to look for Tech's body or any confirmation that he died, but we get a whole scene with Hemlock and the goggles where he also confirms verbally that he doesn't have a body either. There's very little reason to have him say this outside of putting a bug in the viewer's ear that he might not be gone for good.

Not only do we have that verbal confirmation, but we have multiple places where a body could have been included or implied without adding much to the runtime.

Easiest place would probably be when Omega passes out - there's a trooper's corpse right there in front of her, and it would have been very easy to make that identifiable as Tech. Have one of the boys check his pulse like Crosshair did with Mayday and then be forced to leave after confirming he's dead. Would it require a little bit of fudging the details of how he landed so close to them, sure, but it would have been narratively streamlined and easy.

Have Hemlock bring his helmet rather than his goggles (and damage it in a way clearly incompatible with survival) or confirm that he did find a body but has no use for the goggles.

Put the body in Hemlock's lab when Omega is brought there at the end of the episode. Have a sheet covering him even if you want and just one of his hands hanging out, especially the one with the distinctive light on the back of it. Give us her reaction to that.

These are just the ones that don't involve adding scenes or making major changes - instead, in a franchise known for bringing back everyone and their grandmother especially if there's no body, they chose to leave it extremely vague.

Reused Score

The soundtrack for Tech's sacrifice is fantastic, I don't think anyone can argue that. In fact it's so good that it's used occasionally used as a reason for why he's dead for real. If it's a fakeout, why go so hard on the music?

It almost sounds like a reasonable argument, except that the music isn't even unique to Tech's fall. We get the same motif later in the episode with Omega's capture, and it actually comes in even harder and more impactful there than it did with Tech falling.

Reusing bits of the music has two results. It lessens the impact of hearing it with Tech if it is in fact his Death music, because it makes it clear that he is not the central feeling of the episode but rather, Omega's capture is. As mentioned before, deaths are usually the climax of their own episodes partially to avoid them being upstaged by any other plot points, but here Omega's capture is fully prioritized over the loss of one of our central characters.

The second result is that it changes the meaning of the music. It's no longer meant specifically to underscore a tragic death, but rather a more general one of loss and separation. And if it's simply about that separation, then it no longer requires Tech to be dead to have that same impact. They're apart from each other, and that's painful enough.

SEASON 3 SO FAR

Which of course finally brings us to season 3! We're five episodes in as of the posting of this, so a full 1/3rd of the season down, which gives us a good idea of how they're handling the whole grief aspect of this scenario.

They Aren't!

That's right, we simply have not directly acknowledged or dealt with the whole 'watching your squadmate fall to a presumed horrible death' thing even once in five episodes. Tech has been mentioned by name twice, we've seen his goggles once, and Wrecker makes one sideways reference to him having not made it back.

In universe, there is a several month timeskip and it seems to be implied that the majority of the grief milestones happened in that gap. For example, we don't see Crosshair finding out from Omega, we don't see Omega grieving her brother, we don't see Phee finding out (more on her in a bit) despite her fledgling romance. Months of grieving and processing skipped over and what comes out the other side is single line mentions that go by in seconds.

This is especially apparent after episode 5, where we got something to compare it to. Crosshair has a long, painful moment of grieving with Mayday's helmet when they return to Barton IV. It's deep, personal, and intimate and we take a minute with him gathering up the helmets of Mayday and his men to set them up on the crates the same way that Mayday had honored them.

Mayday is a one episode character that was important to only a single character, Crosshair - Tech is a core member of the team present through two full seasons and shown as close to every member of the squad. Yet the single scene grieving Mayday is longer and more emotionally gripping than every short mention of Tech so far in season 3.

Narrative Grief

Seeing characters grieve their loved ones onscreen is about more than just the characters themselves. It's also part of the viewer experience - through the characters' grief, we're able to process our own grief at the loss. It makes it feel real, it makes it feel personal, and the amount of grieving needs to be proportionate to the character's importance in the story.

This is especially true in a show written for children like The Bad Batch. Kids don't typically have the same experience with death as adults, and a well written main character death within a children's show will need more time and energy spent towards making the loss feel real. We see this with deaths like Kanan's; it wasn't Jedi Night that told the viewer that Kanan was really, truly dead, it was Dume, where the characters mourned him and dealt with the aftermath.

Currently, with Tech, we do see holes in the team that make us miss Tech but they remain completely unaddressed by the characters. We see Tech's goggles, but Hunter isn't looking at them, he's looking at Lula. Omega mentions Tech having taught her all the plans, but without any real sadness on her or Crosshair's part. The closest we get to actually bringing it up are Wrecker saying 'not everyone came back' and Echo mentioning the datapad would be difficult without Tech, and both of those are only seconds long before moving on. They don't serve as any kind of catharsis for the viewer, relying more on gut punch impact and keeping the wound open rather than allowing it to heal. The difference between the treatment of Tech's death and Mayday's just makes it more stark.

How Do You Like Yearning?

Interestingly, though, it strongly resembles the writing team's handling of another situation: Crosshair's departure from the team in season 1 vs Echo's in season 2. The show even drew a lot of flack for the lack of discussion on Crosshair's betrayal, as outside of a couple conversations the matter often went unremarked on. Echo leaving, on the other hand, got a whole episode dedicated to processing the loss immediately after it happened.

So what was the difference? Crosshair's departure is part of a long term plot point. We're supposed to want him back, we're supposed to want the team to talk about him, anything that would ease the tension. The writers on the other hand want that tension to remain until it's time to actually resolve the plot. So we get those slow drips in between bigger encounters, we get opportunities for Crosshair to come home that he doesn't take, and we don't get the catharsis of the team actually talking about any of it. We're left to want and imagine it, using the yearning to keep it on people's minds more than anything.

If Crosshair had been discussed on screen long enough for the characters to actually come to terms with his absence, though, that would have made the plot feel more settled and resolved early on. It might be conversations we want to see, but it doesn't keep the viewer on edge and craving a resolution. Best case scenario we're just not as desperate for Crosshair to come home - worst case scenario we accept that he won't be returning and find the fact that he eventually does to be unrealistic.

Echo on the other hand gets their absence processed immediately, because their absence from the team is not meant to be a huge plot point. It's something the team has to deal with, yes, and the viewer wants to see them again just like Omega does, but Echo returning isn't meant to be a maybe, and it's not supposed to keep the viewer wondering and worrying. It's a when, not an if.

Similarly to Crosshair, Tech has never felt like a resolved plot point. We don't get confirmation on his death, we don't get any long term grieving, and we get drip fed acknowledgements that pry the wound back open. If we actually see the team discuss and come to terms with their grief and loss, the plot point closes, the wound closes and we begin to fully accept a team without Tech in it, which makes it harder to reinsert him into the storyline if he is in fact alive.

If he's truly gone for good, what is the point of denying closure to the audience? We know that they are capable of writing an intense mourning moment that feels completely in character for otherwise emotionally repressed men such as Crosshair, so why not give us that with the team mourning for Tech? A memorial, an intimate moment with the goggles, a short scene of Crosshair finding out about the loss, or anything at all really? Once again it's something that makes sense if he's alive and we're simply not being shown yet, but makes very little sense to not capitalize on if he's dead.

What's to Come

We have ten episodes of season 3 to go, and a lot to cover. Reviews have indicated that Tech is not explicitly brought up in the first eight, so the earliest we could possibly have a survival reveal is in episode 9. Will it actually happen? Maybe, maybe not. Though interestingly episode 9, The Harbinger, is almost exactly one year after Plan 99, just like The Return aired almost one year after The Outpost. Could mean nothing, but they do enjoy their anniversary dates.

One thing we do know for sure is coming up is Phee's inclusion - she's seen in the official trailer, as well as briefly in a recent twitter spot. This is interesting as Phee is, of course, Tech's teased love interest, and her connection to Tech has been emphasized multiple times, including on her Databank entry and the official 'what you need to know about season 3' guide. When she comes onto the scene, it's very likely that more information about Tech will too.

MARKETING, INTERVIEWS, & SOCIAL MEDIA

I wanted to keep this mostly focused on what can be seen within the show itself, but it's impossible to talk about whether or not Tech is alive without pointing to the absolutely bizarre messaging from the cast and crew, as well as the marketing choices surrounding his sacrifice. (Example: the Instagram Mourning Filter they layered over him in the official trailer, as seen above) I won't get quite as detailed here as in the above, but it does have to be mentioned.

Constant Focus

In between the end of season 2 and the posting of the season 3 trailer in late January, there were several posts on various official Star Wars media. The majority of them were about Tech and Plan 99. In fact, I don't think I ever saw anything mentioning the giant 'Omega's been captured' cliffhanger, just Tech. Over and over again.

Once a character is dead, marketing generally stops caring about them. They're forward focused after all, they want you coming back for what's to come not lingering on what won't be relevant again. So why the constant focus on Tech?

And it wasn't just the social media either - a huge portion of the trailers and reels included old footage of him too. For the most part this was from Plan 99 and bringing up his fall again to rip open those old wounds, but in one case they included action footage from The Summit. This was an interesting case, because the majority of people watching wouldn't have recognized it immediately. Fittingly, the entire comment section was full of nothing but 'Was that Tech?' style comments, which they would have known was going to be the case to start with.

So why are we so focused on a man that's supposedly dead? If he's genuinely never going to show up again why keep putting him in? Everything? While not even bringing him up all that often in the show? If he's dead, this is a truly bizarre marketing decision.

Never Say Die

In interviews or in official material. For several months the word 'dead' was never used for Tech anywhere, not in interviews, not in official material, nowhere. It took until January 23rd for all of the databank entries to be updated, and among all of the main cast he's only referred to as 'killed' once, and it's on Hunter's page not even his own. Then, the Friday before the premier, an interview came out referring to him as dead - on the part of the interviewer, not the creators themselves.

Everything else seems to use a variety of euphemisms. His sacrifice, his absence, his loss, he 'plummeted out of sight', he 'fell from a tram car', he did absolutely anything it's possible to do except outright die apparently.

It's an odd choice when there's known controversy over if he's dead or not. The standard operating protocol of course, in a planned comeback, is to refer to them as dead anyway and allow fandom to fuel its own speculation, but with a fandom as devastated as TBB's was, it's quite possible that the odd behavior had to be introduced just to keep speculation going. The only interviews that sound remotely final came out right before the episodes started coming out - if they had done that from the beginning, the chances of people outright refusing to come back to the show likely would have been higher.

Much like the marketing, this is not necessarily proof of anything - but in combination with the multiple odd things in the show itself, it's certainly suspicious. Speaking of suspicious...

What an Odd Thing to Say

The cast and crew themselves have not been skimping on making strange comments when it comes to the Tech situation.

There is of course the well known Joel Aron (lighting director for the series) tweet that came out the day of the Celebrations panel (AKA when the Tech trauma was at an all time high) and in direct reply to a fan that was having a hard time with Tech's death. It's hard to take it as anything but a reference to Tech given the timing, and it was certainly taken as being about Tech in the quote tweets. If it's not about Tech, why tease the fandom with it? And the specification for it being a mid s3 episode as well...

Also from the day of Celebrations, and from the panel itself, we have Michelle Ang saying in front of God and everybody, that Tech "doesn't come back... in this episode, at least." At the time there was a possibility she didn't know and was just leaving it open, but with that only being ten months ago and the extremely long timeframe of animation, it's almost certain that she would have been done with all primary recording by that point. If you know he's not coming back, how do you accidentally imply that he is with no one correcting it?

Dee Bradley Baker, when asked for a farewell message from Tech at a con, came out with "the life of a soldier is fulfilled by fulfilling his mission and supporting his brothers. And this was the end of mine. And that's a good thing." Which was a perfectly serviceable goodbye right up until he said that the end of Tech's (life? soldier's life? mission?) was a good thing.

During an instagram interview we have Deana Kiner, one of the composers, in response to the interviewer talking about the final episode containing a major loss, saying, "It's kind of a loss... It's complicated." The claim on twitter was that this was about Omega, because everyone knows that when someone mentions the major loss in Plan 99 they're definitely talking about Omega.

So is Tech alive? Is Tech dead? We still don't know. But while one or two of the above might be a coincidence, having all of them at once coalesce around this single character death is a lot to chew over. The Bad Batch team has shown willingness to address grief and loss prior, as well as a willingness to show us death onscreen and front and center. So why, with such an important character, sidestep it all in order to keep it vague? Why keep it from sounding final for so long, if the intent the entire time was for him to be dead for good?

We won't know until he either shows back up or the show ends. If Tech's alive, all of the above starts to make sense. If he's dead... well a lot of things will just never quite add up. I feel that this team has shown enough willingness to follow up on their trailing plotlines that they've earned my trust. Fingers crossed for a satisfying resolution for all of us, and for our boy Tech, whatever that resolution may be.

[theoretically-bri]

Logan Howlett Smut Alphabet 💛

Note: No spoilers here! Promise! Not specific to any canon. overall this is geared towards casual partners, long-term is a whole different thing with him. This is general characterization by someone trying to get a feel for writing the character lol maybe leaning a bit towards Worst Wolverine!Logan, but not completely him

Also I haven’t written and posted in a very long time, so be nice to me ✨ and he’s a new character for me

Warnings: 18+ , mention of unsafe & rough/violent sex, overall filth tbh this man is gross and I love him

3k words

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Like so many things for him, it depends on who the sexual partner is. Someone casual who was enjoyable may get a hand in cleaning up and a slight check in after, depending on the intensity of what they did. An actual partner gets a more attentive response, silent and gentle physical care before being held and checked on mentally.

A fuckbuddy or particularly irritating or bad casual fuck might get a wet washcloth slapped onto their body and a quick eviction from the space. They may just get the second part.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Logan’s favorite body part of his own would probably be his thighs. His entire body is thick with muscle, but his legs are just something special. Strong for fights or getting work done. Pretty well-loved by any and all lovers too.

On a partner he’ll never complain about a good ass. Sometimes it’ll even be the sole reason he pursues someone. But he also likes when a mutant partner has a visible aspect to their mutation. He isn’t really sure why, but it certainly can make the experience unique.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves any aspect of cum during sex. He loves marking his partner by cumming on their face (or any other part of their body, really. Or their clothes.) But if he’s fucking someone then he’ll always prefer cumming inside them. He loves to cum inside multiple times and leave the person a sore, dripping mess.

When it comes to another person’s cum, he’s pretty indifferent overall. However, he likes to do what he can to make someone cum untouched or squirt. That’s something of a point of pride to him and always tries to make it happen.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He can smell when someone has just masturbated, had sex, or is even just very turned on. He uses that to try and score with those he knows are already aroused. Maybe it’s cheating or predatory, but it works.

He’s also fucked people bent over Scott’s bike multiple times and not cleaned it after. Although that’s less of a secret, he’s obviously the only one who would do that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s over two hundred years old. He’s had a lot of sexual partners and a lot of chance to experiment and perfect his methods. However, there are some kinks or practices that lean a little more modern that he hasn’t gotten used to yet. He’ll get the hang of it, he just hasn’t had enough practice yet. But he’s not going to half-ass anything, it will be good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Logan will always go for anything from behind. Sometimes it’s about less intimacy than facing someone, but it typically has more to do with other factors. The physical leverage it gives him over the other person, the ability to pull his partner’s hair, more available surface area to bite and mark. It often feels more animalistic, which appeals to him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Overall he’s going to be more serious. With a more casual partner or total stranger he’s likely to be his typical gruff self even when it comes to sex. If he’s with someone he’s in a relationship with or trusts more, he’s more likely to crack the occasional joke and overall lighten up if he’s in the right mood. But no one would really call him humorous, just less intense than normal.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

A razor has never gotten anywhere near any of Logan’s hair except for on his face and head. And that’s not to say that he naturally has minimal body hair. His chest is fully covered and a generous amount covers the rest of his torso in addition to a thick happy trail. And it’s no surprise that below the waist isn’t groomed either, everything is entirely natural. He’s not lacking anywhere in hair and that’s exactly how he likes it. It’s how he’s comfortable and it holds onto his natural musk.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sex is about the physical act and getting off, Logan’s typical encounter isn’t going to be intimate in the slightest. There’s definitely no romance involved at all unless it’s with someone he is actually involved with and trusts. Then the level depends on how long he’s been able to let his guard down. He can be a bit of a secret romantic, but not until he trusts the person and knows that they’re safe.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Logan can’t keep his hands off of himself just as much as he can’t keep his hands off of other people. While he vastly prefers sex over masturbation, sometimes the latter is the only option. Sometimes it’s in the comfort of his own bed, with some porn and a fleshlight. Other times it’s ducked into an alley with just spit as lube for his fevered stroking. He enjoys it, but a lot of times it’s just because he popped a boner in an inappropriate situation and needs to get rid of it quickly. It feels good, eases stress and frustration, and keeps him from getting too pent up if it’s been a little while since his last real fuck.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

With heightened senses, he’s incredibly sensitive to scents. This can possibly cause overstimulation, but he views it as a benefit when it comes to sex. He can know if someone is turned on just by being near them. He loves people’s natural scents, especially if they’ve been in nature or sweating some. He’ll get into any crook that he can and happily breathe in a good musk more than fresh air. He’s also been a culprit of stealing clothes in the past, only discovered when he’s found frantically jerking off with someone’s missing item pressed right to his nose and held between his teeth. His own scent is included in this kink, he’ll scent mark a partner or their belongings in any way possible, including with cum. And he’s been known to be particularly enthusiastic about shoving someone’s nose into any possible area after he’s worked out or been in a fight.

Given his excessive animal instincts, breeding can be extremely appealing. Having someone in a breeding position can make it damn near impossible for him to resist growling in their ear about how he’ll knock them up. It’s one reason that he absolutely hates condoms. Of course, he also doesn’t want to risk reproducing accidentally at all. Which leads to another kink.

He’s not sure if anal is really considered a kink by this point, especially when he’ll swing any way, but he loves it. Anyone who can handle (or wants) pain needs less prep, which is a plus all around in his mind. It gives him the chance to fuck without a condom and indulge in breeding fantasies and cum inside with no risk. It’s also usually easier for partners with pussies to take him that way, otherwise he gets a few inches in and nothing else will fit. Plus the gape after he’s finished, puffy and dripping with his load and no way to stop from making a mess, is enough to get him going again immediately after.

Being addressed as authority with honorifics like Sir are a big one for him as well. This one happens less since it typically only happens with those he hooks up with more than once and actually discusses kinks with. But submission paired with acknowledging his authority is a quick way to work him up. (Especially for any Logan who works at the school as a professor. Not with his students, but his colleagues are free game)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

With hookups and casual partners he’s okay with just about anywhere he can get it. It isn’t anything special to him, so he feels no need to go out of the way to hide or be secretive. He’s likely to fuck anyone anywhere but his own home. That’s his space, it’s not for the eyes of strangers and those he doesn’t trust. Anyone else’s space is free game, though, whether that’s whoever he’s with or just an empty room in the mansion.

But someone he cares about is different. Maybe he’ll still be a bit careless about being seen in moments, but he’s much more possessive. He’s going to keep someone he cares about more private overall, keeping many encounters at home and even in his bed. That interaction isn’t for anyone else but them.

But outside of his home, his favorite location is the woods. The connection to nature, the unlikely but not impossible risk of being caught, and the ability to go as feral as he wants makes taking a partner into the forest a favorite. Sometimes casuals get to do it, but it’s always more meaningful if he cares about who he’s with.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A nice ass is probably the easiest way to turn him on. Something plump and shown off is a quick way to get his interest. But that’s not difficult, especially during the summer with abundant booty shorts and bathing suits.

Another thing that gets him going is adrenaline. Being on a mission or in a fight gets his blood hot, sometimes to the point where it can’t be ignored even in the moment. But usually he’s able to keep a hold on himself until the actual fighting is over. Usually

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s not bottoming. Ever. He loves anal with partners of any gender, but he will never be on the receiving end of it. It’s not anything to do with internalized shit or masculinity issues, he’s just not fucking doing it. Simple as. It’s not happening solo and it’s not happening partnered. Anything more than a bit of sneaky tongue or a squeeze when he’s being blown is more than likely going to end with broken bones and a quickly ended experience.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He will give, but he’s much more into receiving. When giving oral he’ll either use it as a reward or to tease relentlessly and showcase the control he has over someone. There’s very few times that he’ll have any desire to give otherwise. The exceptions typically have to do with someone peeling out of sweaty clothes and his sudden need to bury his face in sweat and skin and as much scent as possible.

Receiving is another thing entirely. A good blowjob can easily be more enjoyable for him than sex. He’ll frequent gloryholes if he isn’t getting enough to satisfy him otherwise. It would take extreme circumstances for him to turn down a blowjob from just about anyone. Sometimes he’ll want to be involved and fuck into the person’s throat and make them choke, but other times he’s happy to just enjoy himself without lifting a finger.

A good enough blowjob when he’s in a bad mood can make him seem like a completely different person afterwards.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Lovemaking isn’t in Logan’s vocabulary. Unless he’s somehow managed to live a peaceful life for a while or is seriously attached to someone, sex isn’t getting gentler than leaving a few bruises. With humans he tries to keep a hold on his strength, but for that reason he prefers to sleep with mutants. Especially the variety with some level of durability or healing abilities. He fucks rough and fast, he needs to not worry about breaking whoever is on the receiving end.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes quickies because it means there’s no time for awkwardness or expectation. A lot of times he’ll let the other person initiate because he’d be happy whether they did it or not. But there are times that the adrenaline can get to him on a mission or too much teasing in a not-quite-alone setting can get to him. If he initiates it doesn’t matter if it happens in a bush, an alley, or against a stranger’s car, he needs to fuck to get it out of his system.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

With an inability to catch any infection and the ability to immediately heal from any wound, he takes more risks than necessary. He’ll visit a dirty, sketchy gloryhole without a second thought as long as a warm mouth gets on his cock and he gets to cum. He despises condoms and doesn’t wear them for disease prevention purposes, he only wears them to avoid unintentional reproduction. He’ll also engage in blood play (intentional or not) without a second thought. Even though he likes hard kinks and experimenting, he’s less likely to do something that puts his partner at risk, but that’s just another reason for him to seek out more durable partners.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The combination of his experience, self control, and his abilities make it so that he could last for hours if he wanted. Usually a first round could be over in a few minutes, depending on how long it’s been since he last came and how worked up he is. But other than that, he has pretty solid control over his own pleasure and how long he lasts.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s tried a variety of different “sleeves” over the years, each boasting their realism. Nothing has ever gotten even close to any hole it’s said to. No, he will always prefer a real person to fuck into. But if that’s not an option and his hand just isn’t cutting it, he still keeps around a few of the toys. They always end up destroyed and typically unusable after just one fuck. Maybe something custom sized would fix the issue of him being too big for them, but it wouldn’t change how rough he was and his habit of forgetting his own strength when he gets close.

He isn’t opposed to using toys on a partner, either. Sometimes he can use one of his stretched-out, destroyed pocket pussies for size humiliation, but otherwise he doesn’t own any. if he goes to someone’s place or meet somewhere and they bring their own? He’s okay with adding them in. For a while he didn’t like it, wanted to be the only thing involved in giving pleasure. But eventually he realized that bringing in something extra can make things more interesting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease in order to flaunt his power in a situation. There’s times he’ll tease otherwise, but it comes across as more mean than typical teasing would. Otherwise, he doesn’t tease too much when it comes to sex.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

His sounds are as animalistic as everything else with his fucking. Low grunts and panting and growls. He can dirty talk as well, but that depends on his mood and what his partner is like. He doesn’t tend to be loud unless he’s close to finishing or if something catches him by surprise.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He gets hard in so many situations that he doesn’t want to. It can be because of high adrenaline, the result of being pent up, or even just smelling arousal on someone else. A lot of times he’ll ignore it, either try to hide the hard-on or just sport it shamelessly. But sometimes it’s too much to ignore and he’ll do whatever possible to get off as quickly as possible. The solutions range from slyly offering cash to someone eyeing him for some quick help or even just jerking off right where he is. Maybe he tries to be discreet, maybe not.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Most of his body is made of thick, corded muscles with prominent veins. When flexed it’s all chiseled in appearance, but very soft when neutral. He can almost be mistaken as being a bit soft around the middle until he flexes.

He’s covered in hair everywhere and likes it that way.

He’s uncut and a shower more than a grower. His dick is not short by any means, but the girth may be the most impressive part. So thick that his love for blowjobs can often be a bit of a problem for those trying to get him off. The size has resulted in a few dislocated jaws and a lot of people just being able to take the tip and jerking off the rest.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When it comes to his sex drive, he could go at any time. It just depends on if he’s in the mood for it. And he’s often in the mood for it. Sex gives him an outlet to work out aggression as well as it just feels good and he enjoys it. Maybe his relationship with sex isn’t the healthiest, but his body craves it near constantly and it hasn’t caused any (serious) problems yet.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Because of his physical stamina and regeneration, it’s extremely unlikely for him to be fatigued after sex. He’ll usually get up to clean up and maybe grab something to eat. If it’s someone casual, he likely isn’t getting back into bed (or wherever they happened to be) until the other person leaves. With a true partner he’d hold them and maybe go to sleep a bit after them if he wanted to. But the sleep isn’t needed for him and he likes to savor any peaceful moment that he can.

[catsfor2]

hit me, part 2

wc: 2.5k, largely unedited warnings: swearing/language, talk of homophobia, physical injury a/n: omg hey. this part takes place directly after part 1. things are starting to happen...!also idk shit about shit so don't come at me for the medical stuff if its wrong :) tags: @elliewilliamsmunch@intrnetdoll@me-and-your-husbandur-husband@3zae-zae3@milahnoz@elliescumm@dragonasflowercrown

part 1

part 1.5

"So...where are we going?"

"It's a clearing. In the woods." Ellie's hands lazily slide around the steering wheel as she speaks. You could daydream while staring at Ellie for hours. It's relaxing to watch her drive.

"Hm. Are you gonna...kill me there? Or something?" You joke.

"Still deciding."

"Oh my—are you seriously still mad?"

She says nothing, pretending to be engaged with driving.

You let out an irked breath.

"Okay—Ellie, I'm sorry. I was wasted out of my mind. And you look really different. Like, not just in your face. Everywhere is different." You confess, fiddling with the stickers peeling off of her dashboard.

"So do you. I still managed to fuckin' figure it out."

"I—I think I almost did? I remember looking at you and feeling really—confused, mostly. I didn't understand why I liked this stranger so much." You say, vaguely remembering how clingy and overt you acted last night.

"You were confused? I was fucking confused," her head swivels to yours. "a lesbian? That's what you are now?"

"Don't—don't say it like that. I came out like everyone else. You just weren't there to hear it."

Ellie lets out a choked laugh.

"Oh, Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"I wrote you and called you for fucking months. Nothing. A letter a fucking day. Are you listening? Do you know how many letters that is?"

You stay silent. Your hands ball up where they rest on your lap.

"Fuckin' say something! I even asked Dina for your number but you cut her off too! Is there a reason you basically fucking died?"

"I wasn't home, Ellie."

She stills, her shoulders relaxing a touch. She adjusts back towards the road before clearing her throat.

"At...at sixteen? What happened?"

You recall you, sixteen, sobbing and frantic. Tearing apart the letter Ellie wrote to tell you that she left. Wondering why it felt more like a breakup then your actual one did. Cursing yourself over and over and over again for only being sixteen. Your parents cursing Ellie for corrupting you.

"I feel like you can connect the dots." Your voice is just barely loud enough to hear over the droning tone of the car. The only focus you had at this point was trying not to cry in front of Ellie.

"Oh, fuck, y/n. I'm—I'm sorry. Did those fuckers kick you out?"

"No," you sigh. "I just knew I had leave. They're...crazy. I don't know. I'm fine now."

Her knuckles flex and tense over the steering wheel. Her teeth start to bite at her lips. There's a couple more seconds of quiet before she speaks up.

"I wish I would've been there."

You pause, not totally expecting what she said.

"Yeah," you breathe, gazing at the side of her head. "I wished that too."

And that wasn't a lie. Your family instilled a lot on you, mostly turning you away from religion. But then? You were desperate. Painfully, achingly desperate. And completely alone. After you left home, you prayed every single night. A genuine prayer, on your knees and everything. You even bought a $1.50 pocket bible from goodwill. All to aide in your bedtime routine of begging God to make Ellie come back.

She never did. You've been an atheist ever since. You weren't sure if her being here now changed anything.

The silence marinates for a short while longer until you feel the rocky texture of a gravel road beneath the car.

"We're here," Ellie states, throwing the gear in park. She takes a glance at your feet. "and you should've worn better shoes. We have walking to do."

You both hop out of the car.

"Like you couldn't have told me before we left?" You scoff.

"It's more fun to fuck with you later. C'mon," she grabs your hand, tightly clutching it in hers. "there's coyotes and shit around here. Don't be fuckin' stupid and stay close."

You try to will the warmth away from your cheeks. You've never held Ellie's hand before. Even if this doesn't really count as holding.

"Yeah, got it." You force out.

She leads you into the trees, hand warmly on yours, briskly following a mental path she's clearly walked many times.

"I almost got arrested over here," She sighs, far too casually.

"What?!"

"Damn—I said almost, chill." She assures, laughing at your shock.

You lightly slap her shoulder.

"I don't care! Almost getting arrested is still crazy!" You chide, eyes wide and judgmental.

Ellie's always been pretty...rebellious, but a part of you always thought that she'd be smart enough to avoid anything truly consequential. I guess she still is, you think.

"Lemme explain, ok. I was high as fuck, minding my business, when I saw some kids shootin'—a wolf, I think? Maybe a coyote—I saw them just...fuckin' up this poor thing with a—a BB gun."

"Oh my god..." You say, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do shit at first—I thought they'd stop. But they were like—about to kill this thing, I swear to God. So, I...ha..." Her face breaks into a wide smile. "you're not gonna like this,"

"...What. Not gonna like what."

"I pulled my gun on 'em."

"Ellie!"

"It wasn't even loaded, y'know I like to have it with me just in case..."

"They're kids!—"

"Asshole kids. Ok? And it fuckin' worked so—"

"I thought you said you almost got arrested?"

"Jesus—I did. You keep interrupting me—"

"Sorry." You quip, also realizing you just interrupted her with your apology.

"It's—it's fine. Anyway, those fucks called the cops on me after they ran. I found out cause the fuckin' pigs stopped me and asked if I'd seen an 'armed gunman in the area,'" She says, imitating a deep 'cop' voice. "dumbasses had no clue it was me."

You watch as she laughs, amused at her own story. Suddenly, your foot gets caught under a thick root and your arms fly out in an instant.

Ellie's hands hit your shoulders, grasping them upright, causing you to sharply crash into her chest.

"Oh—shit, sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." You gasp out, trying to regain your balance while loosening your grip on Ellie's coat.

"No, it's those fuckin' shoes," she rebukes, hands still resting on your shoulders. She immediately takes them off you when she notices. "we're almost there anyway. Try not to kill yourself before then."

Your hand burns at your side, palm itching. Is she going to grab it again?

"Where's 'there'?" You ask, glancing around at the wall of trees and shrubbery encircling you both.

"You'll see. Just stay close." She repeats like before, clutching your hand once again.

You tighten your grip, wanting to show Ellie you're listening.

"Good. Let's move."

The two of you walk for about a mile or so more, before the view steals your eyes and you both freeze.

"Oh—wow, Ellie. This is really pretty," you breathe, entranced by the piercingly vibrant colors and towering mountainous structures.

Her head is turned toward you, taking in your reaction to the sight, instead of the sight itself.

She's must've seen it so many times, you think.

"Yeah, you like it? I knew you would." She tells you, unable to keep the satisfied grin from her face.

"Shut up. I'm still mad you didn't even let me get ready this morning."

"There's nobody here. Who're you fuckin' getting ready for?" She barks, arms wide and gesturing.

I still wanted to get ready for you, Ellie. But obviously you don't say that.

"Whatever. You just did it to be a dick." You mutter, plopping yourself down onto the boulder in front of you.

"Yeah, I did. It's funny when you're mad. You're like a cat." She laughs, sitting down next to you.

"That's toxic. You shouldn't make people mad just cause you find it funny." You chide, crossing your legs over the rock.

"Guess I'm toxic, then." She sighs, carelessly throwing pebbles at your head.

"Was that the plan? Sit on a rock and be mean to me?"

"Truly adorable that you think this is mean—"

"Well it's not nice, that's for sure." You huff.

Ellie shifts so that her body faces yours. Her legs spread out wide, elbows comfortably resting on her thighs.

"I don't think you want me to be nice to you."

Your mouth parts open in surprise, eyes now burning into Ellie's.

"Well that's a lie. I'd love for you to be nice—"

"I think you like when I'm mean to you. I think you...prefer it, actually." She juts, a confident smile forming.

"Yeah, and who told you that, Dina?" You question, crossing your arms as a breeze starts to make you shiver.

"Nobody told me anything." her head quirks to the side. "I can just tell."

It was difficult to keep your composure. There were some things Ellie seemed to know about you that you didn't even know yourself. It was terrifying, embarrassing, and flattering all at once. Your face feels like its melting. You stay silent.

"Oh—am I right? I've totally got you, haven't I?" She asks, enjoying fully the power she seems to have over you and your emotions.

"No." You bite, unwilling to try and say anything else.

You hated how often Ellie was right.

She takes a ball of black fabric from her pocket, tossing it in your lap. It's a hat.

"Put it on. It's cold."

A swarm of bats fly over the both of you, chaotic and eruptive.

"It's gonna be dark, Ellie."

"I know, I know. I was, uh—saving the best for last." She quips, hopping off of the rock to stand in front of you.

It felt kind of awkward this way, Ellie fully standing while you sat. You had to look straight up to meet her eyes. It put your head in whirl.

"What, the tattoo? I saw that already."

"No. Something else," She grabs your hand and places it on the bottom hem of her top. Your heart beats a little faster.

"Lift up my shirt."

Your eyes widen as your hand fidgets. You wait for her to keep talking. She doesn't.

"Um...like all the way?" You struggle to find words. "Or—"

"Lift up," her hand grasps yours, guiding it up. "my shirt."

Fabric shifts and the pale flesh of her abdomen comes into view. Her belly is lean—all hard edges and dense muscle. What catches your eye is the long, winding, angry scar tracing along her hip.

Your brain goes into overdrive.

Traumatic injury, surgery needed... most likely...flexor or... IT band tendonitis? Maybe, what, Bursitis? Something...invasive—a tear? Labral tear? Iliopsoas tear? What the fuck was she doing?

"Street fighting." She states. "It's my job."

Your face is blank. You shakily stand.

"Uhhh—you, you better be fucking with me, Ellie." You stutter out. Unconsciously, you move to trace your finger along the scar, feeling the warped, healed skin. "I mean this is...this is serious. This is...surgery."

"Don't I fuckin' know it," she moves her shirt back down, covering the scar. "took me out of the ring for like, eight weeks."

"Jesus—Jesus Christ. How long have you been doing this!?"

"Not much longer than you've been in school, really."

"So, not long. Is what you're saying." your fingers rake through your hair. "This is...this is fucking crazy."

"It's not that—"

"Dina's okay with this? Really. I really don't see how she could be okay with this, like, at all." You argue, cutting her off.

"She wasn't. I had to convince her."

"And how often do you go to the doctor? Once a week? Or do you pretend like you know how to patch yourself up?"

Her face slightly reddens.

"I—I learned how to do it myself. I know how."

"Oh sure. Did you google it? I'm sure google will save you from a life threatening injury."

"Ok, most of them are not 'life threatening'—"

"You don't know that! Not certainly, at least! Not certain enough to be safe!" You exclaim, voice full of anger, but mostly, fear.

She places a hand on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. She doesn't talk until you meet her eyes.

"Hey. I am fine. The hip thing was a fluke. Honest. Most of the time nothing fuckin' happens." She assures, her other hand rubbing up and down your arm. You must've looked more upset than you'd realized.

"Ok."

"Just, 'ok'? Are we...good now?" Ellie asks, blue eyes still deeply connected to yours.

"Um...yeah..." You say, partly hesitating. Ellie watches you closely.

"I wanna go with you."

Her face lights up in...shock?, you think, a pleased grin shaping her mouth.

"What—really?"

"If you really want to do...this," you bite your lip. "being there is what would make me feel...better...about it."

"Yeah? That's...I mean, I think that's great," She says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "my own cheerleader."

You step backwards, letting Ellie's hands slide away from your body.

"No, not a cheerleader. A fucking medic. So I'm not sitting home worried about you—dying. I can just be there to help if stuff goes wrong."

"I'm happy either way, princess." She gleams.

As the sun sets, it gets harder to make out the shape of her face. The woods are also quieter, amplifying the subtle sounds of you and Ellie. You wonder about the details of your plan.

"Do I have to pay to get in? How does this...work?"

"No, you're set. Pretty girls get in free—it's a club rule. Y'know, good for business and everything."

You thank the sky for it's darkness, as Ellie is unable to see the rosy hue reaching your cheeks.

"Oh. Okay...good to know."

Ellie steps up, and now familiarly, encloses your hand in hers.

"C'mon. It's too fuckin' dark to stay any longer."

You walk out of the clearing, back into the dense foliage of where you came. Your grip tightens.

"So...have you had girlfriend?" Ellie blurts.

"Um, weird question, but," you look away. "no."

"Just...trying to gauge how good of a lesbian you are. Pretty bad, it seems."

"Oh, fuck off. I've been focusing on...school." You retort, fully knowing how lame it sounds.

If you were being honest, it was just nerves. You didn't have to try for a boyfriend, he basically wouldn't even take 'no' for an answer. But with girls? It was like you froze.

"Hey I'd give you some tips but...I don't think they'd really...apply for you, y'know?"

"No, I don't know. Explain it." You demand.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm trying think of a way where it makes...sense. And won't make you mad."

"I won't get mad Ellie. Just say it." You encourage, now more curious than anything.

She stops walking and turns to you.

"Well, it's like...the roles. The roles you can have."

"What...roles...?"

She huffs a laugh before continuing, and positions her hand to point to herself.

"I'm the type that flusters the girl. The...fluster-er, right?"

She walks forwards, getting so close that you can smell the scents of the forest soaked up in her clothing.

"And you," She says, her finger poking your collarbone. "...are the girl that...is flustered. It's a...a dynamic, yeah?"

Your skin heats and all you can do is gaze at Ellie, who's completely enthused with this discussion. She stays quiet, watching your face intently, despite it being so dark.

"You're making stuff up again. I don't even—I don't even know why I let you talk." You utter.

"See? You're doing it already! It's the fuckin' dynamic princess—you know I'm never wrong." She gushes, pinching at your checks and making them even redder.

"This so stupid. And don't call me that."

It was like the world stopped. As soon as you said it, you could see Ellie's brain distinctly remembering you, in that whiny drunken voice, begging. You won't ever forget it. And neither will Ellie, for completely different reasons.

You knew exactly what she was going to say, so you try and stop her.

"Don't. I don't care what I did yesterday. Just—don't."

She sighs, clearly dropping it. Thank god. Her teeth bite the inside of her cheek.

"Whatever you say, princess."

You don't even acknowledge it, just rolling your eyes as you walk ahead. Stray branches brush over your legs and thighs, feeling like gentle scratches. You slow a bit, waiting for Ellie to join you.

And hold your hand again.

Stepping ahead of you to lead, Ellie does just that. The warmth makes you smile, and you let it own your face, bright and wide. You didn't care. It was dark enough.

"Alright. Stay close."

"I know, Ellie."

[dnd-writes]

Way of Water

AO3

Tags: Power bottom!Eunbi, back-up dancer!reader, watersports, deepthroating, BFH

Warning: Watersports. I mean come on, waterbomb, watersports, I had to plus I couldn't think of anything else and I just really wanted to write Eunbi after seeing those clips

A/N: Never did I think I would write Eunbi so soon nor did I think that I would *not* write subby Eunbi. She's just that great. So... yeah, enjoy!

Also I used the "Door" performance as inspiration. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CBUzWUSVSM I don't know if this works honestly, I don't really Tumblr. I'll fix it when I wake up... maybe

“🎶 Just stay right by my side. Woo woo woo woo woo woo yeah 🎶”

‘Ok, next part is coming up. Just go up to her then go back to the side. Easy. Simple.’ You don’t know why you’re reassuring yourself so much or why you’re even hesitating in the first place. You’ve done this song, this dance, this particular move dozens of times on stage, at least hundreds in practice. Yet here you are, acting like a complete newbie doing his first performance ever. 

Eunbi runs back up the catwalk towards the main stage after finishing the second chorus of the song. Her wet, bikini-clad chest bounces around and it feels like time is slowing down, water falls from the sky so gently it feels like you could count every droplet in your vicinity. Eunbi’s breasts bounce hypnotically underneath the near-nonexistent top hugging her body, you’ve seen them jiggle and shake a thousand times before and not once have you thought about Eunbi sexually in any way but something about this current moment makes it different. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re seeing her cleavage in full or maybe it’s all the water being sprayed on her that’s awakening something you never knew you had in you.

And just like that time zooms forward and you’re back to the present. Eunbi runs back up the catwalk towards the main stage after finishing the second chorus of the song. She hurries over to a dancer then clings onto his nape as she starts singing her next line.

“🎶 Neowa 🎶 na sai 🎶 “

That’s your cue to move over. ‘Easy, simple,’ you repeat to yourself. ‘Just let her guide me, just flow with the music.’ It really isn’t that hard, just one step, one simple step that you’ve practiced for hours.

“🎶 aseulhan seoneul balbeun jigeum 🎶”

You let Eunbi pull you in close to her then her leg wraps around you. At that moment you feel the world just completely stop, not even slowing down like you felt earlier but rather completely still. Your face is an inch from her chest, it’s a position you’re completely familiar with but given the circumstances it feels so brand new. Though your face is looking away, your eyes aren’t. You peek over and standing there is Eunbi’s soft, massive chest in all its glory. Seeing it glistening with all the water turned you on instantly and gave your brain ideas you never thought it would make.

And how could you forget her leg, your eyes focused so much on her tits that you forgot the leg wrapped around you. To say your brain went into overdrive is an understatement because the moment it realizes Eunbi wrapped around you, the amount of nasty perverted thoughts more than just doubled. Your brain explodes then just like that you’re out of that fever dream.

Eunbi kicks the leg wrapped around you and in unison you drop to the ground. Your professionalism went back in gear but half your brain focuses on the choreography and the other incessantly sexualizes Eunbi causing you to slip up your dancing here and there, thankfully, as a backup dancer no one really pays much attention to you. And besides, it’s a water festival, you can always blame mishaps on the slippery stage.

For the rest of the song and the rest of Eunbi’s set at Waterbomb, you never had any moment as visceral or powerful as the ones during “Door,” there was a close call during “Glitch” but you held your cool.

You and the other dancers exit as Eunbi bids goodbye to the audience. All your friends look so jolly and hyper, bouncing and jumping around after performing multiple stages, meanwhile your face is blank. With your mind no longer half-occupied with dancing perfectly, lewd thoughts about Eunbi start to rot your head.

“That was so fun!”

“Can’t wait to do it again!” “I wish every stage was like this now…”

Several cheers erupt from the group as you all head over to the green room. “Hey, man, you doing good?” It takes a while for your brain to register that you are the one being talked to, you raise your head to see your friends stop in their tracks, all worriedly looking at you. You give them a soft smile and a passable excuse, “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… a little more tired than usual. I think I’ll just stay here for a bit.”

One of them pats you on the back, “What a bummer. Just rest, we all worked so hard today. Well if you need us we’ll just be outside watching the other performances, ‘kay?” You give a quick nod and wave them off as they disappear from view.

You enter the room and the cold air blasts your face, despite how cold it is inside your body feels the opposite. You try to stand right in front of the A/C, your ears start to hurt but inside you still can’t feel the chill. An idea pops into your head and you sprint for the mini-fridge on the other side of the room. The thing is packed with cold water bottles. You take a sip and sigh in relief as you feel the cool travel down your throat, but it still isn’t enough. You sip, you gulp, you down a full bottle, then a second, then a third, then a fourth. Endless stream of chill flows in your body but you still feel the heat, the problem isn’t with your face, in your throat, or in your stomach, no, it’s much deeper down and it doesn’t need acquisition to be cooled.

“Hey, there you are,” shouts a familiar voice. You quickly turn around and see the root of your problem, Eunbi. Standing there dripping wet, cardigan completely drenched, tits fully exposed, you don’t know whether to call yourself lucky or unlucky to be in this situation right now.

You’re not sure if it’s your mind messing with you or you’re actually looking at reality but with every step that Eunbi takes towards you, you swear you could see her chest bounce. “The others said you weren’t feeling well so I came to check on you.”

“T-That’s sweet of you. I-I mean, yeah I’m fine.” Eunbi finally gets right in front of you, even though you’re taller than her your eyes are looking way lower than where they normally would be at. You try to maintain eye contact but it’s like your pupils are too heavy for your own good, always falling and resting in Eunbi’s cleavage, just up and down and up and down. Similarly, Eunbi looks down, you follow her gaze towards the prominent bulge at your crotch.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just… the outfit and, and, and the water and–” You try to turn away and apologize but Eunbi plants her hands firmly on your shoulders and makes you face her, she looks you dead in the eyes and… flashes you a smile? “Look, it’s ok. You don’t have to apologize. You know what? The others are upstairs having fun. Why don’t we… have some fun… of our own?”

You’re at a loss for words. Is this really happening? Is Eunbi really asking you to fuck her or did you somehow pass out and start imagining that Eunbi is asking you to fuck her. Whether it’s a dream or reality you happily nod and oblige.

Eunbi takes your hand and pulls you into the small bathroom nearby. You don’t even take the time to look around, instead you quickly get on the toilet seat while Eunbi kneels in front of you.

Eunbi palms your crotch through your jeans and you squirm at the action, not because you almost came but rather something else is begging to be released. You notice Eunbi give off a devilish smirk at your movement and you nervously chuckle at what she might have planned for you.

“Well we won’t be needing these anymore.” Eunbi takes off her near see through top then shortly after her bikini, not wasting a single second on foreplay. Her tits bounce out now that they’re freely in the open air, looking bigger than in any outfit you’ve ever seen her wear. Well you’re certain what to call your situation right now – lucky – Men and women alike would kill to be anywhere close to your position.

“Or these.” She quickly unzips your pants and tugs both it and your underwear down. You help her out by lifting your butt and pulling down with her. Your cock springs free and Eunbi doesn’t hesitate and begins jerking you off slowly. Her other hand, meanwhile, goes above your dick and presses lightly on it. You squirm just like earlier, finally confirming her suspicions. 

“You look so full, baby. All that water you drank is already making its way down, isn’t it? Don’t you just want to let go? I heard peeing feels just as refreshing as cumming, why don’t we test that? C’mon, baby, just give it all to me. Let me feel that hot piss on me, baby.”

Pissing during sex hasn’t ever occurred to you before in your life, you’d think it’d turn you off but you’re harder than you’ve ever been your whole life. Despite your dick clearly wanting this to happen, your brain is still in denial over such a taboo. Eunbi’s basically begging for you to pee on her and yet you somehow won’t.

Eunbi presses down on your bladder but not too much, she wants you to pee but she doesn’t want to force it out of you. Perhaps there’s a middle ground. “Come on, baby. Don’t you want to see me covered in your piss? Soak my hair, coat my perfect tits and face. I just know you want to do it, maybe you just need some convincing?”

Then what is possible the hottest thing you never knew you needed happens – Eunbi starts pissing all over the floor. She moans as she empties her bladder, you feel a pool forming beneath you as the hot liquid surrounds your feet.. “You hear that, baby? I wanna hear that from you too. Come on, give it to me. I know you want to.” The sound echoes around the tiny area and it’s just the trick to send you over the edge.

As soon as the first trail of yellow comes out of your tip, Eunbi aims your dick at herself, treating it like a hose and showering herself in every place. First, she coats her tits in light sheen, just the sight you needed to see ever since that close-up view you had of her chest; Second, she aims it at her face, letting pee get into her hair and having it drip down her chin and neck; Lastly, Eunbi opens her mouth and takes your cock inside while it’s still gushing.

Eunbi bobbing her head up and down, sucking on your dick while gulping every single drop as fast as you give it to her. You feel like you’re in heaven. Just moments ago you were hesitant, not even entertaining the thought of pissing while having sex but here you are relishing at the sight of Eunbi drinking the contents of your bladder while also deepthroating you. Who knew that the modest Eunbi would ever be this skillful at something like this?

Your bladder finally empties the remaining urine into Eunbi’s mouth and not once did a single drop escape her lips. erent liquid is begging for its release.

Eunbi stops sucking and replaces her mouth with her hands after no longer receiving any piss. “Give it to me, baby. You wanna coat these tits, don’t you? You wanna cum on me and smear it all over my perfect face?” This time you don’t hold back, you let your cum fly as if it was just like piss. Your vision goes white and so does Eunbi, ropes shoot out and cover just about everything it could reach – Eunbi’s hair, her face, her chin, her neck, her tits. You slowly descend from heaven and the sight before you makes it seem like you haven’t. Eunbi uses the tip of your cock like a brush and spreads the cum all over her skin. She’s mixing a combo of piss, sweat, water, spit, and cum all over herself and the concoction coating her tits makes you hard and ready to cum again.

Eunbi stands up and her own piss is dripping from her skirt. “Ready for round 2, baby?”

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 4

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 1940

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: military setting, violence, use of guns, explicit language.

I hear panicked shouts from the halls outside the room. The men only just got back from their mission a couple of minutes ago. Soap said he’d be back to get me in ten after they unpacked, but it’s been at least twice as long and their voices have me worried something is wrong. Then everything quiets down for about two minutes before an array of gunfire opens up across the tiny building.

This building only has basic provisions, it’s not meant to house soldiers for an extended time and it certainly doesn’t have the weapons arsenal the other base does. What the team needs, they bring with them. A long cycle of bangs and pops erupts just outside the door. I press my body flat into the cement floor and cover my head with my trembling arms. A man screams outside the room before a gurgling sound cuts him short. However, the silence doesn’t return. More gunshots can be heard somewhere else in the building and suddenly the lock to the room clicks. The door flies open and a wide-eyed Soap stands in the frame holding an assault rifle. He quickly clears the room, eyes expertly scanning over me before he starts in my direction while keeping a watch on the only exit.

“Get up we have to go!” Soap shouts. I don’t even finish processing his words before I’m sprinting toward him. As soon as we leave the room, I nearly step on a man’s bloody body riddled with bullet holes. The air gets caught in my throat as the distinct metallic smell reaches my nose. I freeze at the sight, but Soap roughly grabs my arm and pulls me behind him. “Move, y/n!” he urges.

Gunfire rings around us as men shout at each other from different directions. I don’t know where he’s taking me. The route looks like it leads to a back exit, but I don’t know the layout and the last time I walked these halls I was blindfolded. My heart races and I hear it thunder in my ears alongside the gunshots.

There’s a shuffling noise behind us and Soap whips around, immediately firing upon the men. My ears ring from the noise and suddenly everything else feels quieter. Two soldiers drop dead without the chance to return fire. Soap’s reflexes are incredibly quick and as soon as they’re down, he turns back around to continue running. My chest grows tighter as we sprint down the hall and my vision begins to blur. I feel the panic attack bubble under the surface of my skin.

We finally reach another door and Soap turns to scan behind us one last time before poking the end of his rifle out the door to search for any enemies.

“We’re gonna run like hell to that truck west of the exit,” his voice is low and rushed and his thick accent makes it hard to decipher exactly what he’s saying, but in the heat of the moment, I understand completely.

The truck is closer to the building than I thought it’d be. The coast is clear right up until we reach the doors. I slide in the back passenger door, but just as Soap’s about to climb in, someone starts firing at us. One of the men returns fire from the passenger window and expertly takes the attacker out. Soap leaps inside, slamming the door shut and the driver takes off immediately.

The truck is full of men, but it’s not big enough to fit the whole crew. I start to wonder who didn’t make it on their mission or if anyone was picked off during the ambush. Inside the truck, Soap, Gaz, Ghost, myself, and one other man I don’t recognize fill the available seats. Gaz hastily shifts gears as Ghost sits with his rifle aimed out of the passenger window, waiting for the opportunity to take down any additional attackers. The rest of us are piled in the back. Soap catches his breath before I do. Part of me thinks it's because I’m still recovering from the shock of it all rather than the physical exertion.

“How the fuck did they know our location?” asks the man beside me. His wide eyes are panicked as he looks to Ghost for an answer. At first, I didn’t notice how large he is, but his knees are crammed up against the back of the driver's seat and he has to hunch over so his head doesn’t hit the ceiling.

“Must’ve tracked the extraction vehicles,” growls Ghost.

“Think we’re tagged?” Soap asks Ghost.

“Could be,” he says. “Might’ve been radar. I don’t know. We lost touch with intel at the start of the ambush.”

“Did the other trucks make it out?” Soap looks to Ghost for an answer.

“They’re clear. We’re the last,” I dwell on his words for a moment. He doesn’t say anything about casualties and they all seemed to have escaped. However, the fact that we’re the last comes as a surprise. Because that means the only reason they were last is because they stayed to retrieve me from the base. Soap and I were the last ones on the final truck out of there. They were - specifically Soap was - willing to risk their personal well-being to ensure my safety. I don’t know what to make of their actions yet, but they feel significant.

“They won’t be bold enough to attack the main base, not tonight at least,” Soap says although he doesn’t sound that confident.

“Don’t underestimate the enemy,” Ghost retorts. “We’re not going back until intel has reached out.

Gaz speeds down the old road made of broken pavement. Trees whip by on either side of the vehicle and I realize we are in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Snow blows across the road making it hard to see what lane we’re in and it's starting to get dark despite the radio reading only three p.m. The men don’t seem too concerned with blindfolding me. Maybe they forgot or maybe they’ve decided I don’t need it. I don’t comment just in case it’s the former.

I stare out the back window in fear of seeing a hundred more cars appear out of nowhere in hot pursuit of our vehicle. I spare a glance to look for aircraft or drones but don’t see any. We’re driving for quite some time and it seems as though no one is coming.

“Who was that?” I ask no one in particular. I don’t expect a response, but Gaz clears his throat before speaking.

“Ultranationalists. They’re pissed after we destroyed a weapons artillery not far from here. Didn’t think they’d be so quick to retaliate,” Gaz puts it plainly.

“Ultranationalists,” I murmur to myself. I’ve heard that term before. On TV. I scrape my mind for anything I can remember about that name. They were behind several terrorist attacks, but not just random attacks, targeted ones. Large ones. I’m talking about airports and government buildings all over Europe. Because their goal was to weaken other European governments so that one particular country could gain control over all of Europe.

“Are we in Russia?” I look to Ghost to find his eyes already on mine. He watched my entire thought process play out and now as I hold his gaze, it becomes obvious.

No one verbally answers, but they don’t need to. A chill runs down my spine. I’m more involved in whatever the hell is going on than I’ll ever imagine.

Gaz hits a particularly large pothole while driving on the broken pavement causing the front end of the vehicle to dip and then violently jump up. Only seconds later the truck starts to shake and it becomes apparent we have a flat.

“Fuck,” Gaz mutters. He pulls off to the side of the road and all four men exit the vehicle to check out the damage. I watch through the side mirror as König, who stands much taller than all of the others, crawls under the truck to get the spare. Ghost rounds the truck to the back doors and pulls the driver’s side open. Our eyes briefly meet, before he reaches under the seat to retrieve the jack from its hiding spot.

For fifteen minutes I watch as they change the truck’s tire. It’s the first time I have a window into how they operate as a team. Ghost delegates jobs, assigning Soap the brunt of the work. Not as punishment, but because he trusts Soap. Ghost knows he’s thorough and detail-oriented. There’s a reason Soap is the youngest on the team: it’s because he has an incredible work ethic. Gaz and König jack the truck up and support the jack so it can’t fall over. They wheel the tire over so Soap can focus on tightening the lug nuts. Together, they’re efficient.

Ghost throws the old tire in the box of the truck and we’re on the road again. This time, he drives. Ghost adjusts the seat all the way back to fit his large frame. Soap sits in the passenger seat. I take the spot behind the driver’s seat while the other two fill the space beside me.  

The sun has long set and we’re still driving. I wonder how much gas is left in the tank and what they plan to do once we run out. They haven’t mentioned the rest of their team or their intel since the start of the ride. No one has definitively said where we’re going, yet they seem to have a common understanding about their plans.

I watch Ghost in the rear-view mirror. His face is illuminated by the red glow from the radio. The colour could almost be considered symbolic. No. It is symbolic. His eyes are narrow as he scans our surroundings.

To be able to act as a voyeur is rare. Since joining them, I’ve been constantly watched and examined. Now, our positions have switched. I have the opportunity to examine Ghost for an extended period of time and I can’t help but wonder what led him to 141.

What kind of events happen in a man’s life that shape him into the type of ruthless killer that Ghost is? He’s cold. Colder than the rest, but not without purpose. Behind those stoic eyes is a type of hidden pain that’s almost impossible to detect. It’s the kind of pain that never truly goes away. It simply forces you to become stronger. What amount of pain has chipped away at the person he used to be until there was nothing left but the man who sits in front of me now?

But that’s to assume pain affects him like a normal person. Yet, he doesn’t look like someone who’s had pieces of them taken again and again. Looking closer, I don’t think it has at all. I think the pain made him smarter, sharper. It inspired him to rise to a new level. It created an entirely new creature born from betrayal. Born from heartbreak.

As I watch Ghost, I try to imagine the person he was before all of the pain and heartbreak.

My mind draws a blank.

Ghost feels my eyes on him. When he looks up, we make eye contact almost instantly. The dash lights turn the white skull mask a menacing red. Unlike before, I don’t look away immediately. My heart rate spikes and my cheeks flare, but I force myself to hold his gaze. At least for a little while. I feel the hot blood sweltering in my veins. Ghost’s eyes know more than they let on.

[sluttyminghao]

make him cry ♡ c.sc

♡ pairing: domestic!seungcheol and female!reader ♡ w.c.: 2.1k ♡ genre: smut ♡ this fics contains: sub!seungcheol, dom!reader, use of a vibrating cock ring, use of handcuffs, mentions of a ball gag, overstimulation, seungcheol crying from pleasure, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, baby), cum eating (only one small scene) ♡ synopsis: seungcheol had a bad day at work, and his one request was for you to make him forget about it. challenge accepted. ♡ a/n: enjoy some submissive seungcheol &lt;3 ty to @sluttywonwoo for proof reading mwah feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

You stare numbly at the television, hoping that the monotonous show you had unconsciously decided to switch on would provide even a crumb of serotonin. After the day you had had at work, you truly just wanted to put your feet up and watch television until you fell asleep on your couch.

Seungcheol wasn't home yet, which only made you feel slightly more deflated, as he was your go-to for emotional and physical support. Just the thought of him and his pouty lips sent butterflies erupting throughout your chest and stomach, and a smile spreading across your tired lips.

You couldn't help but let your mind wander to a couple of nights ago when he had you pinned to your bed, his cock slamming into you with every thrust as he let out his frustrations from his day at work. 

“Such a good whore for me, taking my cock like a good girl.” His breathy sighs are coupled with his thighs slapping against your own, and mixing with your own whines and moans, it creates a cacophony of sound that would otherwise sound horrible but at the moment is like a beautiful symphony that sends you spiralling into your orgasm quicker than ever.

The door to your apartment creaking open is what draws you out of your thoughts, and your head whips around to observe an equally exhausted Seungcheol trudging through the doorway, his feet dragging along the carpet with an unpleasant scraping noise. You cringe at the noise and make a mental note to call him out on it later, but when he finally emerges into the room, you stow that thought away and immediately pull the blanket away from your body so he has room to slide in underneath.

He doesn't attempt a conversation just yet but fully accepts your warmth under the fuzzy blanket and snuggles right into your side, a content sigh leaving his lips. Your hand reaches up and courses through his dark, fluffy hair, only recently having been permed again. You had to admit, you loved when his hair was permed.

“How was work today, baby?”

He grunts and turns to face you, a pout and slight frown becoming prominent on his features. Your simple question had him reliving the dragging day, getting screamed at for things out of his control, and unreachable deadlines needing to be met. 

You can see the gears in his head turning, and it’s visibly stressing him out even more as he thinks about it. An idea sparks in your mind, and a mischievous grin pulls across your lips as you try to work out how to bring up your idea, which you'll label as “stress relief” to him.

“Work was shit. I don’t even want to go back tomorrow.”

“Well, what if I take your mind off it right now?” Your question makes him raise his head and stare at you quizzically, the gears in his head now turning for a completely different reason. His eyes urge you to continue, gleaming under the lights like there are twinkling stars encapsulated within his irises. He looks so cute when all his attention is directly on you.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Seungcheol immediately throws the blanket off of you both and is quick to follow you to the bedroom only a couple of feet away like a lost puppy. You can hear his socked feet thumping lightly against the linoleum flooring, and it makes your heart skip a beat at the fact that this man would follow you to the ends of the earth.

Upon entering the bedroom, you wait for him to enter behind you and then close the door. He watches you bounce towards your walk-in wardrobe and walk out again seconds later with a bright pink box in your hands and an evil grin on your features. He can feel his pulse quicken as you set the box on the bed and turn to face him.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”

Your sudden dominant aura has him choking and spluttering out, only receiving an eyebrow raise from you. He suddenly feels small as he removes his shirt, your eyes burning into him and drinking in every inch of exposed skin. Now he knows how you feel when he gives you the exact instructions.

Seungcheol quickly removes his sweats and boxers, leaving him bare in front of you with a half-erect cock. He can feel his face begin to burn and he has the sudden urge to cover himself up, but he knows you’ll just scold him. You continue to stare at him until he remembers what you said and he crawls onto the bed, sitting directly in the middle and waiting for your next instruction.

You stare at him with a grin on your features, and you can see his cock twitch in anticipation. After a quick glance into the box and rummaging through the various items in it, you finally pull out what you were looking for, and simultaneously make Seungcheol gasp at the sight of it.

“You know what this is, don’t you, baby?”

He nods meekly and spreads his legs out so that you can get between them to attach the object. The black rubber fits snugly over his now fully erect shaft and settles nicely at the base, a small whimper escaping Seungcheol’s lips at the tightness of the cock ring encapsulating his cock.

You hadn’t even turned it on yet and you could see Seungcheol’s cock beginning to leak precum, and his breaths have grown slightly shallower. He’s getting so worked up already and you haven't even started. Cute.

“Baby, tell me what you would like me to do.”

He glances up at you, doe eyes and pouty lips more present than ever. You can see how flushed his cheeks are, how his curly hair is beginning to stick to his forehead in strands, and how his beautiful skin looks like it glows under the light of the lamp. Your eyes travel further down and observe his toned body looking like it had been carved by gods. By now his cock is angry and red, the tip leaking precum. 

“I-I wanna feel good…”

“I know that sweetheart, but what do you want me to do to make you feel good?”

Seungcheol can’t even maintain eye contact with you, his eyes avoiding yours at all costs and instead choosing to remain trained on the pink box with mysterious items inside. Who knows what was in there, he hadn’t even really seen it before, and he wondered how long you’d actually had it for.

“Baby?”

“Oh…sorry…I-I wanna be overstimulated… don’t want to remember my horrible work day…” his voice goes soft as he finishes his sentence, his fingers intertwining with themselves to keep himself occupied. All you can do is smile softly and pull a couple more items out of the box and place them on your vanity out of harm's way.

“I’ll make sure the only thing you remember is my name, sweetheart.”

He gulps at the sentence and feels his cock twitch once again at the pet name. He isn’t normally one for pet names, but with the state he was in it didn’t even register in his mind. His mind had basically turned to static, but even more so when you quickly flick the switch on a small remote, bringing the cock ring to life.

At first, the vibrations are low and only small pulses, not quite enough to cum but definitely enough to get him riled up. You can see the way his stomach tenses and his lips drop into an ‘O’ shape as the pulses begin to course through his shaft, and slowly the sensations spread to his entire body.

“Feel good baby?”

“...mhm…y-yeah feels s’good…” his soft whimpers had your own arousal flooding your underwear and you feel your body warming up while you see him squirming. You knew he could handle more vibrations, and with a smirk you change the dial on the remote again, bumping it up to the third highest setting.

“O-oh fuck!” Seungcheol’s body crumples at the intensity of the vibrations, and his body falls flat against the mattress, hands fisting the sheets and his legs spreading widely. You know he won’t last very long, so you decide to bump up the settings once more to the highest vibrational setting.

At this point, you can hear him gasping and hiccuping. Tears are beginning to stream down his face from the sheer amount of pleasure his body is facing. The lower half of his body is struggling, his hips bucking up and thrusting into nothing and his fingers just about ripping the sheets.

With the way his body is twitching and his abs are contracting, you know he’s close to his orgasm but you also know he will try to stave it off for as long as possible. His cock is leaking precum in a continual stream, and you know of one thing that will make him cum immediately.

“Cheollie, are you gonna cum for me?” Your voice has dropped an octave and he peeks at you through his tear-covered lashes, thrusting up into the air once, twice more before he’s letting out a loud sob and cum is shooting from his tip. You watch in awe as the cock ring milks him for everything he’s got, his cum coating his stomach and thighs while your name rolls off his tongue like a mantra.

You bring the vibrations down to the lowest setting for a while, letting him recover in his post-orgasmic haze. A grin covers your lips when you see him twitch and his death grip on your sheets loosens slightly. 

“God…felt so, so good,”

You grin and lean over to peck his nose, and teasingly run your hand over his stomach. He watches you eagerly as you scoop up some of his cum off his skin and swipe it onto your tongue, swallowing the salty substance eagerly. Although it was such a small and simple gesture, he can’t help but feel his cock twitch and begin to grow hard again.

“Glad you felt good baby, say, how do you feel about another round?”

He glances at you curiously, eyebrow raised underneath his sweaty bangs. You chuckle and move to your vanity, pulling up the items you had pulled out of the box before. Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at the sight of the handcuffs, nipple clamps, and a ball gag. The gears are turning in his head again, you can tell, and you’re not quite sure how he feels about the toys.

“I don't want to use the ball gag.”

“Okay, well don’t be a brat then and we won’t need to use it.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen again when you place the ball gag to the side and immediately lock his wrists into the handcuffs, making sure they are placed around one of the poles on your headboard for security. You also take care to place a pillow underneath his arms to make sure he’s comfortable.

You take one look at him and feel your body grow hot again; he has dried tear tracks on his face, cum drying on his thighs and stomach and his cock is angry and red once again from your dominant actions. Everything in his body is going into overdrive, and it doesn’t help when you begin to strip off your own clothing, taking your sweet time doing so.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing your body, fuck you look so good.” Seungcheol groans when you have stripped bare and are standing naked in front of him, your body in its full glory and all for him to enjoy. The only thing he doesn’t like at this exact moment is that he can’t feel your supple flesh under his fingertips, mapping out your skin with his fingers.

You smirk and get yourself settled between his thighs, turning the cock ring back on when you get comfortable. He whimpers at the feeling, the overstimulation seeping into his system once again but not complaining, especially when you shuffle over his thighs and move your body over his own, hovering over his cock.

His heart rate quickens when he feels the warmth of your body, and he just knows that you’re going to milk him for everything he’s got, especially with the smirk that’s plastered on your features as you bump up the vibrations on the cock ring one notch and repeat what you had told him earlier.

“I’m going to make sure you only remember my name, sweetheart.”

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[rosinkreutz]

How do you think Asuka's and Aria's friendship was like when she was alive?

This is a really hard question. I keep sitting down to write this and deleting everything because I'm not satisfied with the answer I can provide. The problem is me because I've realized I'm not sure how to describe any friendship, let alone one so vaguely developed in the source material... However. I will try. This is all kind of speculation based on what I've interpreted from the characters. - First, I think when you analyze Asuka's actions it seems that he feels a certain sense of ownership toward the world. Not in an entitled sense, but moreso a guardian. Which makes sense, really, as a disciple of the Original, savior of humanity. Especially considering the other disciples were explicitly uninterested in humanity's advancement, so he's the only one interesting in following in their teacher's footsteps. The problem is that he completely defines himself by it (which is kinda why I think Asuka was very young when he was taken in to be a disciple, because it's like it's all he knows). - So with that in mind, and knowing that before Aria met the other two, she was extremely isolated from her family and other people in general, I think the power dynamic in the relationship would end up being rather skewed. Literally, yes, since he's a sorcerer, but also psychologically. Aria's someone whose not used to having any support, and that's all Asuka wants to do. He never thinks of himself first, and the only sense of self he has is this self-appointed guardian role. He would go so far out of the way to make her happy, because he loves her very much. But he also thinks that he knows what's right for her and may have been controlling at times- which I think is why Frederick works so well in this dynamic because he's so anti-authority and free-thinking. His influence and just overall presence would keep the two of them from being too overly dependent on each other. After all, they love him as much as they love each other, as best friend, boyfriend, whatever. Obviously there's more to him in the dynamic but this is about the other two. - (As kind of a side-note, keeping Aria happy is one of the few ways he himself can feel fulfilled in his role as a guardian. The Original kind of had it easy, as world-saving goes, because he knew exactly what was going to burst (black tech) and had the exact solution to the problem (magic). The world Asuka's "inherited" has a million different facets and problems all piled together in one big powderkeg with an invisible fuse. He really can't just go out and fix everything alone as a socially inept 20-something, good at magic as he is. Which he understands, as an objective thinker, but given that guardianship is the only thing he defines himself with as a person, he's inevitably going to feel worthless and hate himself for not being able to do anything. Hence, why when the Gear Project gets picked up by the military, he goes crazy trying to fix it because just imagine what it would feel like that the whole world could be destroyed by something you made while trying to fix it.... But... If he could get what people need for advancement (gear cells) safe and unweaponized and if he could have someone else powerful to help and support him (Justice, maybe Sol?), he could use that to REALLY save the world AND Aria in the process. Win-win, right?)

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

lore for tempting fate

[wolfie leon drawing!]

this post will have any world lore about this fic that's in an easy post to refer to! but! there can be spoilers up to chapter 10!!!! so if you have not read the fic, this can spoils major plot points for you

BUT if you have read up to chapter 10, then you will be fine!

again, SPOILERS AHEAD

world lore

this is set in a rural part of romania and heavily inspired by re village. there are no villages named, or cities named as to keep it rather vague (also because i have never travelled there before lol so i didn't want to be wrong about locations by naming places)

because of how rural the setting is, i did spend a lot of time going through google maps and finding really far apart cities so i could map out what makes sense distance wise for them to travel back and forth on foot or car

this is a post re6 fic but pre vendetta. this au exists without death island or vendetta.

although i do have a general characterizations set for both leon and ada throughout the aus i've written, this is set outside of the one where they have babies so this is entirely a different set of aeon if that makes sense (like my everyday with you series are set with the pregnancy au in mind but this one is entirely separate)

there are aspects of lore from the vampire diaries (tvd) but that world does not exist in this au. i just pulled different aspects of that universe

because this fic will not explore any part of america, there are no mentions of either leon's home or ada's home.

i do have a floor plan of ada's cabin which they frequent for a majority of the fic and i do have plans of other areas that i might draw out

character and wolf lore

leon looks similar to when he was human. the only significant changes are that he is slightly taller (noticeable difference) and a bit bulkier. i aimed for his design to be a mix of re6, damnation and death island.

since his infection, his scars from the initial attack have a silvery look to them and are slightly colder to the touch. his body reacts and heals very much like most supernatural creatures. meaning he heals very quickly. BUT he can not regenerate body parts. so if he does get an arm chopped off etc, it will NOT grow back (HOWEVER if someone were to be infected and REMAIN a wolf, they could regenerate a body part, but it would not be a normal looking body part example: very thin, broken, formed into an odd shape or different skin entirely (scales, tentacles etc.)

leon's wolf is a golden brown colour and his unique traits are that he is a rather clean looking wolf.

because the werewolf virus cures some of the human's ailments or injuries prior to the infection - his sight hearing loss and vision is corrected after his transformation (however they are corrected to more than a human's ability to see/hear)

leon's eyes are also flecked with a golden colour when his body is in various stages of transition (this is a easy way to tell if someone is a werewolf)

if he does not have any colour within his eye, he is in complete control of his human body and does not have any effect or influence from his werewolf virus

because his strain of the virus was a common one, he has a few negative traits, like not being able to consume a regular diet anymore. he also needs to transform every week and a half at the furthest times apart.

his werewolf is heavily affected by his emotions and has had to hone in on controlling his emotions. he is also heavily connected to ada because of his prior feelings to becoming infected with the virus

leon does have puppy aspects of his wolf virus and can indulge in them sometimes example, feeling lonely without ada, needing to stick his head out of the window in the car, feeling the need to run around because it feels good GOTTA GO FAST, wanting and smelling ada because she smells really good to him

adaaaaaaa

ada's design was heavily inspired by her village concept art and most of her gear is leaning towards a more unisex/genderless style. BUT she has aspects of her more feminine style returning at different parts of the fic. she keeps a vest that contains her notes and anything important to the plot lol

ada's wolf is a dark black colour and she is much larger than her human counterpart but still slightly smaller than leon. her eyes are flecked with a dark purple almost midnight black.

her wolf ears are abnormally large (leon thinks it's very cute) and because of it, her ability to hear is a powerful sense but also can be a detriment as it causes her to hear too much and can cause debilitating headaches. (more in coming but these will be spoilers so i am not saying anything lol)

ada's virus was a pure version and thus she has a lot less negative side effects. BUT because her form allows her to have more freedom with the choice of transforming, it does require balance. (transforming for longer stretches of time require rest in return. they are almost a 1:1 for time in transforming and resting)

ada's sense of taste is similar to a humans but is slightly duller

both leon and ada's sense of taste, smell, sight and touch are extremely developed, but ada's sense of hearing is superhuman and can cause her headaches if she can not control her hearing

both of them suffer from headaches or a horrible fever if they go long periods of time without transforming into their wolf counterparts

because the wolf is somewhat euphoric to become, many people who become wolves do not return to a human state if they remain a wolf form for long (they will lose their humanity if they do not change back)

the word werewolf and wolf are somewhat interchangeable in this au

being a wolf is still a curse in this universe, many people do ostracize and isolate from other people who become infected with the virus (but i don't really touch upon this too much in the fic)

the bar where katherine works is sort of a safe haven at this point in the fic

the wolves are similar to the ones in tvd but much larger. the ones that are more grotesque are similar to the ones in village but can have other extremities such as scales and tentacles or pustules (just gross nasty stuff)

there are many strains of the werewolf virus. some of them are common (like leon and katherine's infection) or pure versions (like ada's.) but many versions are also deadly (like the ones at the lab, where the human host becomes feral and no longer has the ability to return to their human forms)

because the werewolf virus is a virus, the body of the creature is still human and since it's almost parasitic in nature, killing them by shooting them in the eye (or directly to the brain) is the only way to kill them (trying to rip out their heart may not necessarily kill them)

other misc lore

stefan and katherine were inspired by the characters in tvd (the vampire diaries) i opted to keep stefan human and katherine as a werewolf but most of their mannerisms are similar to the original characters

the inhibitor is a light greenish colour and can look somewhat blue in certain lights

the virus is an amber like fluid and reacts like a poison to humans

the cure is a red colour

wolfsbane is a purple flower/herb that was plucked from tvd lore. is is dangerous to werewolves and "safe" for humans. (they are actually toxic irl) it can be grown and manipulated to create different strengths of the herb. it is usually in a oil/liquid like consistency and can be used to kill if injected into a werewolves bloodstream. they can also be used to lace bullets.

wolves in this au are not affected by wood or metals (i opted out of this lore simply for logistics)

many of the foods (if they are described) are pulled from popular romanian foods

I WILL be probably adding lore whenever i find it necessary lol also feel free to send me anything if yall have any questions :3

[anonymous-hopeful]

hcs for francis and nacha if you haven’t already? <3 they make my brain rot in the best way possible

TYSM IF U DO THIS REUQEST! if you can’t, don’t worry! i love all your hcs 😭🫶

Two asks for Francis and Nacha! How could I not make a headcanon for them?

Headcanon below!

While most couples would panic at the thought of suddenly needing to raise a child together...Nacha and Francis were actually no different. They were both young and starry-eyed adults at the time, with Nacha going to culinary school and Francis going through college. They were well into planning their future together, saving what they could from their part time jobs (Nacha as a cook in a local restaurant, Francis as a milkman) while using the rest to pay the rest on their shared apartment...

...and then, it happened.

Of course young lovers do what young lovers do, and a few weeks later, Nacha started feeling a little different than usual. Being a concerned boyfriend, Francis urged Nacha to get seen by the doctor, and Nacha, wanting Francis not to worry (while also wanting to make sure she was alright) scheduled the appointment.

When she returned to their apartment after, the two of them locked eyes for what felt like an eternity. The silence was only broken by a few life-changing words:

"I'm pregnant."

Of course, this was something completely unplanned- they wanted to start a family at some point, but right now was far too soon. They were young, they didn't have the money to support a baby and go to school and pay rent, along with so many of their other plans for the future.

...but they had each other.

It was daunting, having to switch gears to prepare to bring a new life into the world, and the first few months into Nacha's pregnancy were filled with a heavy amount of fear and nerves to make sure everything was ready to go. Both took up more shifts, saved more money, lost quite a bit of sleep.

About three-quarters through Nacha's pregnancy, the chef began to notice something. Francis was staying out later at night, seemed to be getting darker and darker circles under his eyes, and yet...the money started becoming less of an issue. It wasn't that Nacha minded the money stabilizing, but...what was he doing?

One day, a few weeks off from the baby was due, Nacha had to ask what Francis was up to- she's noticed.

"Mmm well...I had to do what was best for our family...so I took the milkman job full time..."

The money going towards Francis' tuition as better spent for the baby, in his eyes, and working full time meant he'd be able to be the support they needed. Nacha was ready to drop out of culinary school after hearing that, but Francis wouldn't allow it. She's wanted to be a chef for so long- he wasn't going to let her give that up.

Fast forward to now, Nacha's gotten to be quite the respectable chef. She makes more than enough to support herself, Francis, and Anastacha, but Francis still insists on doing his share. He's Nastacha's father after all.

That's alright for Nacha, anyway- she's putting her money towards a couple of rings and the wedding they never got to have...but don't tell.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Pretend For A While

Requested Here!

Pairing: TO!Jim Street x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: You fall for Street on your first day as a rookie, but it takes a hostage situation and a guilty conscience for Street to realize he feels the same.

Warnings: fluff, angst, r is abducted and stabbed, mentions of hospitals and surgery, more fluff

Word Count: 4.5k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

During your time in the police academy, you heard dozens of horror stories. The premise of each was training officers. Your TO can make or break your career; you have no say in who you are assigned to or how they treat you. So, as you walk into the station on your first day after graduating from the academy, you’re excited and nervous all at once. You did well in the academy, but that doesn’t mean anything now. You’re a boot, so you’re back at the bottom, and every move you make will be watched and judged.

“Now,” the watch commander announces. “Rookies, it’s time to be assigned to your training officer. Your TO is the most important person to you during this period of your training. Listen, apply, and learn.”

You nod and listen as your fellow rookies are told who will decide their fate in the coming weeks. When the watch commander says your name, you sit up straighter and nod in acknowledgement.

“Your TO is Officer Jim Street,” he says before continuing his list.

You fight the urge to turn in your seat and find Officer Street. Every opinion you’ve heard recently was different: don’t be too eager, be eager, stay quiet, express your opinion, and ask questions. It has been a whirlwind, but your TO can strengthen it into a hurricane in a moment.

“You’re dismissed,” the watch commander concludes. “Go serve and protect. Good luck.”

Before you stand, you take a deep breath. The moment you turn, Officer Street is already behind you.

“Nice to meet you, Officer Street,” you say.

He shakes your hand and smiles. “You, too. Do you have any questions before we roll out?”

“One, actually, sir. What is the most important thing to you? What should my focus be?”

Street tilts his head to the side as his smile shifts from friendly to amused. “I don’t want you to spend your day proving yourself to me. You made it this far, so I know you can do this job. That’s all you need to focus on: do what you’ve been trained to do, do it well, and stay safe.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply.

“Alright. Go get the gear and meet me in the garage.”

You dip your head once before you walk past him to check out your equipment. Street’s attitude surprised you, but you won’t let your guard down. Yes, being a police officer is your main objective, yet you know you can’t do that without your TO approving your work.

“No,” Street says. “You need to go in at an angle. If you can’t see the window before you approach the vehicle, you wait for backup. When you’re riding alone, you’re cover and contact at the same time.”

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

More than listening, you walk out further and slow until you can see in the driver’s window. His hands are on the steering wheel, and no weapons are in sight. You look toward Street and nod before approaching the driver to issue a speeding ticket. It goes well, the driver is kind and understanding, and you’re simply waiting for the other (no pun intended) boot to drop. Your first day is going too well based on what you’ve heard about being a rookie.

“You did really well,” Street praises as you return to the shop. “Your understanding of procedure is great. Can’t imagine how well you’ll do on the rookie exam.”

“Thank you,” you murmur.

You came into the station this morning expecting to be in another horror story. One you would escape as a cop in short sleeves, but after a trying probationary period regardless. Yet, you’re sitting beside Jim Street, who has blindsided you completely. He’s stern and gives good instructions, yet he is incredibly sweet to you. Between calls, he asks you about yourself, helps you prepare for possible scenarios, and while you’re actively working, he gives you room to do it yourself. 

You would be the first to admit that his attitude and actions have taken you aback. However, you refuse to let your shock and respect for him hinder your work. Street is great, and you’d love to get to know him outside of the shop, but it will never happen. Your TO will never see you as more than a boot, and even if he is nice, it doesn’t mean anything. So, your focus remains on the job. However, that focus wavers when you overhear Street comforting a young girl at a crime scene. He’s special, and you’re falling into something that you know is wrong.

The last day of your first week as a rookie arrives quickly. One boot has already quit, driven to believe they weren’t good enough by their TO. It’s an odd parallel to your relationship with Street, who has only reprimanded you once. He apologized after and explained that seeing you in danger made him speak without thinking. 

He walks into the bullpen after you arrive and smiles as he passes you. I’m doomed, you realize immediately. Falling in love with your TO has to be against some unspoken rule. It’s just a harmless crush; don’t get distracted, you scold yourself. Yet, when he approaches you after you receive your assignment for the day, you know that is far easier said than done. He’s been a cop longer than you, he is your superior, your future relies on him, and most importantly, Jim Street will never see you as anything other than a part of his job.

“Do you want to drive today?” Street asks as you walk to the garage, side-by-side.

“Depends,” you answer slowly. “Is that a trick question or a trap?”

Street chuckles as he shakes his head. “Just an offer to let you drive.”

“Then, yes, I’d like that. And I’ll be sure to turn on my blinker exactly 300 yards before planned turns.”

“I don’t think I could even gauge that distance,” Street counters.

“That has to be a trap.”

“They’re not traps. I’m not trying to set you up to fail. You’ve got this.”

“I hope so,” you mumble as you open the driver’s door.

As you pull out of the station and onto the streets of Los Angeles, you focus on the road. But the silence is unsettling, so you decide to ask a question and ease the tension you feel.

“Do I have to use my blinkers during a pursuit?” you ask.

“I’m not answering that,” Street replies.

“Why not?”

“Because you know the answer.” He smiles and shakes his head before he adds, “If you’re going to ask me a question, find one that isn’t so obvious.”

“Okay. Why didn’t you yell at me for missing the third suspect when we cleared that house yesterday?”

It’s been bothering you since it happened. Such blatant oversight would have ended in a lecture for any other rookie. Street simply arrested him and reminded you to check in closets, not just open the door.

“There was no reason to yell. You made a mistake; it happens,” Street explains. “I hope that my explanation will help you do better in the future. Yelling would have just made you nervous.”

“They don’t teach that in TO school, do they?”

“Look, the horror stories are true. Every one of them. My TO was hard on me, too. But we all do this in different ways, and for different cops. You needed a reminder, not a lecture.”

“So, you’re saying you will lecture me if the situation calls for it?”

“I would prefer not to. I like complimenting you more,” Street says.

You smile but don’t reply as dispatch alerts you to an abduction in the area. The dispatcher relays the details of the amber alert, and you shift your attention from Street to finding the suspects’ van.

Back at the station, after the abducted child had been found without a scratch, you watch Street talk to your watch commander. All the TOs are in his office while you sit in the bullpen with the rest of the rookies.

I like complimenting you more Street said earlier. You refuse to see something that isn’t there, but you like Street. More than you should.

“Good morning,” you greet as you exit the locker room on Monday morning.

“Morning,” Street replies. “How was your weekend?”

“Educational.”

Street’s brows raise as he looks at you. You chuckle at his reaction and shake your head.

“I reviewed my entire rook book. You said you wanted a hard question,” you explain.

“And did you find one?”

“No. It’s all pretty straightforward. Unless what’s the meaning of life counts.”

“It doesn’t. No existential stuff.”

“So, you don’t think we’re fated to be BFFs because I got the best TO and you got the second-best rookie?” you tease.

“Second best?” Street repeats.

“That’s all you caught from that?”

“I heard you, that’s just what I’m choosing to acknowledge. Are you ready to go?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows at Street’s question with the obvious answer.

“I know, stupid question. Let’s go,” Street says.

After you pull out, dispatch announces a domestic disturbance less than a mile away. Street attaches you and himself to the call, so you drive toward the address with your lights and sirens on.

“Remember protocol. These are never easy,” Street reminds you as you park outside the house.

You nod before you exit the shop. Yelling and glass shattering are audible from the yard, and Street directs you toward a side entrance. It stands open, and you stop before you become visible to the people inside.

“I’ll cover, you make entry and evaluate the situation,” Street instructs quietly.

“Yes, sir,” you agree.

He raises his weapon toward the door and moves in a small semi-circle behind as you step over the threshold. A wall of cabinets blocks your view, and you lower toward the floor as you move toward an opening. Street moves so he can see anyone coming toward you. When you reach the casing around the doorway, you stop. The floor is covered in broken glass, and you can see blood on several pieces.

You turn toward Street and shake your head. Besides the glass and the blood, you can’t see anything. He nods and gestures for you to come back.

“You’re dead,” someone growls inside. “Good thing about this neighborhood? No one will think twice about the shot.”

Your eyes widen as you nod toward Street. He moves inside silently, and you stand to peek around the corner. A large hand grips the collar of your uniform and pulls you around the corner harshly. You yelp in surprise but raise your elbow toward the man’s jaw.

Street steps toward you quickly but doesn’t hear the men enter the kitchen behind him. Two of them grab him at the same time, pulling his arms back as his gun clatters to the floor.

Around the corner, you continue fighting against the man who has to be more than twice your size. A woman is groaning behind you, but you’re happy to take the attention from her so Street can get in and help her. He twists suddenly and pushes you against the wall with his weight. You can’t move, but you can wait for the right moment if you stay calm.

“Found her partner,” a man yells from the kitchen.

Street yells your name worriedly before he adds, “Backup’s on the way. Get out of here!”

The man holding you with your arms pinned painfully against your sides laughs in your face. Your calm composure is threatened by the knowledge that your suspect isn’t alone, and his co-conspirators, co-abusers, whatever term they would like to be charged with when this is over, have Street trapped.

“She can’t do that,” the man replies. “She can help, though. Give me one, meet at four.”

He raises his hand, and something metal reflects the light from the window before he brings his hand down toward your cheekbone, and you slump against the wall. You distantly register his hands on you as he lifts you, but you’re too disoriented to fight, so you focus on keeping your eyes open to watch where he takes you.

The men in the kitchen struggle to keep Street as he fights to get to you. One of them pulls his handcuffs from his belt and secures his wrists behind his back. With his hands pulled back, chasing them would be pointless. The other kicks the back of Street’s knees, so he falls to the floor. He yells for them to stop, but they exit the door he came in through.

Someone groans in pain in the other room, and Street uses his legs and shoulders to push himself up into a kneeling position. He lifts one knee before pressing himself up to stand. As he moves into the living room, he sees the bloody glass shards and a woman lying on the floor. There is no sign of you, though. Street clenches his jaw before he rolls his shoulders back to retrieve his radio. His hand hits his handcuff key first, and he struggles to undo one of the cuffs. When he’s free, he radios for an ambulance and backup before reporting your abduction. He drops his hand after he ends the transmission.

“This is my fault,” he says to himself.

The woman inhales sharply, and he turns his attention toward her. You are strong but shouldn’t have to be in this situation. Street will get you back, no matter what it takes. The guilt begins to weigh on him as he sees the signs of abuse on the woman beside him. If you are hurt because of him, he will never forgive himself.

Stay calm, he yells in his mind. He’s no use to you if he gets angry and reckless. To find you and save you, he has to focus. When the sirens of police cars and ambulances grow louder, he promises the woman that everything will be okay soon. Then, he forces himself to believe that.

It takes six hours, but Street finds you. He combed through everything he could find; from the rental agreement at the house you were abducted in, he pulled DMV records and rap sheets, then traced every alias, associates, next of kin, and other residences. Then, he evaluated the likelihood of where they would take an abducted cop. There are only four choices, and he takes the most likely one. As he runs inside, he knows he can’t be trusted near the suspect. So, he finds you and doesn’t so much as glance when they haul him out.

“I’m so sorry,” Street apologizes as he kneels beside you.

“For what?” you ask softly.

Street leans over you and sees your swollen, bloody, and bruised cheekbone. There’s a bloodstain on your pants, but Street decides to let the paramedics check you.

“I shouldn’t have let you go in alone.”

“You didn’t. You were covering me, but he knew somehow… Was it brass knuckles?”

“What?” Street questions.

“My cool new face scar. Brass knuckles?”

Street huffs a laugh before he mumbles, “Looks like it.”

You smile before grimacing in pain. Street takes your hand, the one closest to him, and runs his thumb over your knuckles. The ambulance arrives soon after, and three paramedics rush inside to check on you. Street stays beside you as they gather around you.

“Sir, we need you to-“ one of them begins.

“I’m not leaving her,” Street snaps. “Work around me.”

You squeeze his hand, and he takes a deep breath. He glances down, and when he sees your eyes on his face, he decides to watch you rather than what the people around you are doing.

“We have to get her to the hospital,” the female looking at your leg wound announces.

“Officer,” the first paramedic tries again.

“I’m going with her,” Street interrupts.

“I understand. Can you step back so we can get the gurney in?”

Street realizes then that the room you’re in is tiny. You barely fit laid out as you are, and with the paramedics around you, one of them is pressed against the wall to secure a tourniquet around your thigh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Street agrees quietly. “I’m right here,” he reminds you before he pulls his hand from yours.

He steps out of the room, but the moment you’re brought out, Street is back at your side. His hand slides into yours again as he climbs into the ambulance with you. You knew he’d come but weren’t expecting such protectiveness or an apology. Knowing that Street is a good cop and the best TO you could have asked for didn’t prepare you for this.

“Which hospital?” the driver asks.

“Shaw,” Street answers.

“But-“

“Shaw,” he repeats. “The recovery team there is better prepared.”

“Yes, sir,” the driver agrees.

“What’s your blood type?” a paramedic asks.

Street answers for you, and you wonder if he’ll stay this overprotective when you return to the field. Will he ever trust you again? you ask yourself. Will he ever trust himself enough to?

When you’re moved to a private room after a short surgery, Street is waiting for you.

“Look,” you say, raising a clear bag with a broken knife tip inside. “This was in my leg!”

“They put you on the good meds already?” Street asks.

His voice doesn’t sound right; strained sarcasm doesn’t suit him. He nods and takes the bag from your extended hand. As he flips it to look at the metal shard that was millimeters from severing an artery, Street reminds himself that it’s his fault. His guilt has been eating at him since the moment he found you. Seeing the extent of your injuries worsens it.

“I’m not high on pain meds,” you answer. “Just thought it would lighten the mood.”

Street shakes his head and returns your macabre souvenir. 

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t apologize. When- The doctor said you can start therapy as soon as you feel better and get some rest. They’re thinking you can get back to work next week… if you want.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” you ask.

“Listen, I won’t let anything like this happen again. Ever. Whether you decide to continue your training with me or not.”

You tilt your head to the side to look at Street. He’s tired, stressed, worried, or some combination of all three.

“I don’t want another TO,” you tell him. “I got hurt. It’s part of what I signed up for.”

“But you didn’t-“

“I knew what I was getting into, Street,” you interrupt. “This doesn’t make me weak or mean that I need another training officer. I want to finish what we started. If you don’t… then that’s your choice.”

“I want to,” Street says quickly. “Of course I want to.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course. Get some rest. We’ve got therapy to start.”

“We?”

“Someone has to train you through your recovery. Can’t have you drop to the third-best rookie.”

Street leans back in the stiff hospital chair and closes his eyes. You watch him momentarily; his tight jaw, tense shoulders, and smile don’t go together, yet you still think he’s handsome. Even after being kidnapped, you still have a crush on Street. You shake your head and lay back, your smile matching Street’s as you drift off.

“Street!” Hicks yells. “Wait up.”

Street turns in the hospital hallway and furrows his brows. “Commander,” he greets.

“I heard about what happened to your rookie. How’s she doin’?”

“Better. She just finished physical therapy. The doctors think she’ll be discharged tomorrow and ready for field work within a week. No long-term damage, other than some scars.”

“That’s good. Let me ask you a question, Jim, and I want you to think before you answer.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why are you still here? She’s fine, yet you’re stuck to her side and walking beside her through every step of this recovery.”

Street ponders the question before he answers, “Because it’s my fault. This happened because I let her go in first, I was careless. So, I’m doing everything I can to make it better, and I won’t let it happen again. I can’t.”

Hicks nods. “I get it. But she went in, too. It’s the hardest part about being a TO. Okay? We drill it into their heads, but at the end of the day, they make their own calls.”

Street knows that, deep down. But the guilt, the responsibility for putting you here, won’t disappear with one simple reminder. He can’t eliminate the guilt by reminding himself that you did it. He can’t shift the guilt or accept that bad things happen. Not when he can do something about it.

“Okay,” Street answers. “I’ll, uh, I’ll give her some room.”

“Maybe not too much,” Hicks says as he turns to leave.

During your last physical therapy appointment before you’re discharged, Street is absent. He left to go home and stop by your apartment and make sure it was prepared for you to recover over the weekend. It surprised you, the sudden shift from overprotective to helpful. Not that he wasn’t helpful while overprotective, but the space feels odd now.

You remind yourself that Street has other responsibilities, and his decision to prepare your apartment for your return was protective, too. There is no arguing with yourself that your feelings have grown stronger, though. Despite knowing, you force your feelings for Street down. You just have to be respectful and professional. He’s your TO, he’s helping you recover, nothing more. You think.

“Today will be hectic,” your watch commander says as he enters. “Events, sales, and one of the biggest traveling days of the season mean you will be busy today. Don’t sacrifice form or safety for anything. Call backup when you need it and watch out for each other. This is still policing, so remember your protocols and procedures and we will get through this.”

Street calls your name as you stand and wraps his fingers around your bicep. You turn toward him and smile, but it drops at his serious look.

“We are sticking together today. Every call, no matter how small or safe they seem. Understood?” he asks.

“Understood,” you answer with a nod.

“You know everything to do, we just need to make sure our surroundings are conducive to our job. Anything seems off and we call backup.”

“Yes, sir. It’s going to be busy, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea. Go grab the gear and we’ll get an early start.”

“Street! A moment?” Commander Hicks calls.

Street nods before trailing his fingers over your sleeve as he steps back. You watch him approach Hicks but look away quickly and remind yourself that you have a job to do. Ignoring your feelings after a touch like that is harder than anything you’ve done as a cop.

While you sign for your gear, Hicks shakes his head at Street. “How is she doing?” Hicks asks. 

“She’s recovered well. Since coming back, she’s-“

Hicks raises his hand, and Street stops talking. “You’re talking like her TO, but you aren’t acting like a TO.”

“I-“

“You never have, though, have you? Because your relationship was never normal or professional. I wouldn’t even say platonic.”

Street remains quiet. Never normal or professional, never platonic. You have never been any of those things in Street’s mind; Hicks is right about that. Street never treated you like a boot because he never saw you as one. He barely saw you as a cop some days. And when you were injured, he only saw someone he needed to be close to.

“Oh,” Street murmurs.

Hicks scoffs before he smiles and demands, “Don’t oh me, kid, go do something about it.”

Street nods quickly and walks toward the shop. He can’t do anything about it while you’re on the clock and surrounded by body and dash cams. He’ll have to hide his realization until the end of the day. It can’t be that hard… right?

You sigh as you exit the locker room in your civvies. It was just as hectic today as was advertised.

“Hey,” Street calls as he jogs to your side. “Do you have a minute?”

“Of course,” you answer. “What’s up?”

Street hesitates, running through several ways to start this conversation. None of the options seem right, but he needs to talk to you about it. 

You brush your fingers over his wrist and whisper, “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Street says. “I apologize for treating you unprofessionally.”

You pull your hand away as if it’s been burned and smile. “It’s okay. I, uh- it’s an honor to learn from you, regardless of how you treat me.”

“You’ve learned a lot,” Street agrees. “You’re well on your way to becoming LA’s next best cop.” He rubs his hand along his jaw nervously before he adds, “Yet I still can’t see you as a boot.”

“You don’t?” you repeat. Does he see me like I see him? Or is this where he tells me something I don’t want to hear?

“No. I never have, but it’s been harder recently, you’re more than that.”

“I’ve had feelings for you since my first day,” you admit. “That is unprofessional, so I hid everything.”

“Even after you got abducted and hurt because of me?” Street asks.

He tries to sound like he’s joking but fails. You can see it now; the overprotectiveness was the result, but the guilt you see now was the reason.

“Street,” you murmur as you grab his arm gently. “No. That was not your fault. You saved me.”

“It wouldn’t have happened without me,” Street argues.

“I made a choice too, Street. But you? You saved my life. So, yeah, I still have feelings for you after that. You can’t hold yourself responsible or feel guilty for anything that happened before you decided to save me.”

Street nods and steps closer to you. “I’ll be responsible for what happens next, too.”

“What does that mean?”

Street looks around before he asks, “Do you think you could pretend for a while longer? Until I’m not your TO anymore?”

“I could wait forever, Street,” you answer with a smile. “Just stop blaming yourself, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Street offers. “Goodnight.”

“It is now,” you whisper as you pat his arm.

Street watches you walk out of the station, then walks through the halls to find Hicks. His office door is open, and Street knocks before Hicks waves for him to enter.

“Thank you,” Street says. “For pointing out what I wasn’t seeing.”

“Street, dating another cop is a dangerous game,” Hicks warns. “You both care about each other but that doesn’t mean you get to bend the rules to be together.”

“I know. I’ve got that handled, and we won’t be breaking any rules. Unless there’s something against using sarcasm to flirt.”

Hicks shakes his head and smiles. “For once, Street, I believe that you can handle it. Just at least try to pretend to be professional.”

“Pretending to be professional is what I do best.”