#i’m ACTUALLY not going to recover from this

[dadbodbuck]

WE'RE BREAKING UP

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME.

WHY WOULD YOU TYPE THIS WORDS WITH YOUR FINGERS AND THEN PRESS POST.

GET AWAY FROM ME

hi jack unfortunately we got married when you weren't looking so you have to pay for an attorney :/

anyway

Buck texts him I need to talk to you and Christopher knows it’s going to be a bad day. He was actually thinking about coming home over Thanksgiving break—it’s not as clean as going back over Christmas, but he misses Denny (who’s been telling him a lot about his cool new sister during their nightly meme exchange), and he misses his school friends (even if they’re exhausting to be around sometimes), and worst of all he misses his family. He misses his dad, he misses Buck. He even misses Tommy—despite only having met him a few times, he knows he’s been good for Buck and for his dad. 

He liked seeing his dad smiling so much when he first started hanging out with Tommy, before her. He liked the way Tommy talked to him like an adult with his own thoughts and opinions. He liked the way Tommy talked about Buck, even though it was kind of gross seeing a grown man swoon that much.

But then. I need to talk to you. And it all comes crumbling down around him. Buck even has the nerve to follow it up with Can I call you? like some sort of therapist or school administrator. Chris opts for a video call, because he’s not eighty years old, and when Buck picks up, his eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale, and he’s nestled in his bed like a stereotypical teenager girl after she gets dumped.

Oh. Oh no. “What,” Chris says, and he kind of regrets the video call now, because Buck flinches back like he’s been physically hit.

“Uh, hey!” Buck says, trying to recover and failing miserably. The smile he plasters on his face looks so forced it’s painful, “How’s Texas in November treating you?”

Chris looks at Buck and decides to play nice. Just a little. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you sounded like you had something important to talk about.”

“You’re right,” Buck sighs, “I’m procrastinating. I just wanted to let you know that Tommy and I have decided not to see each other anymore.”

And, yeah, Chris is pretty sure he knew this was coming, but it still makes him want to cry, or bite something, or throw his phone into the lake. “What happened?”

“Well—uh—Chris, I don’t—the details really aren’t important,” Buck says, with a wince, “What is important is that I love you, and your dad loves you, and just because Tommy won’t be around doesn’t mean you won’t have our support. I’m really sorry, bud. I know you liked him.”

It blindsides Chris, and he doesn’t know why. He should’ve seen this coming a mile away. He shouldn’t have gotten attached. He never should have sat down to watch The Batman with his dad and Tommy and stolen Tommy’s popcorn and talked shit on Buck’s taste in Star Wars Prequels. 

“What did you do?” Chris asks, feeling a startling rage building in his throat. It’s familiar, now. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows this is Buck’s fault. Buck looks like a dog that pissed on the carpet and is waiting for you to step on the wet spot.

Buck clears his throat, and visibly weighs truth and comfort in his mind. “I asked him to move in with me. It was—it was too fast—”

“You asked him to move in with you?” Chris balks, “He has a house!”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Buck hisses, “Listen, I know I fu—messed up. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, Chris. But it—it was the best decision for both of us.”

“You’re lying,” Chris seethes, because he knows so, so intimately the look of an adult lying to protect his innocence. “He made you happy. He made dad happy.”

Buck looks away, chin trembling, and Chris feels bad for all of three seconds before the rage consumes every other feeling in his chest. “Call me back when you find someone who wants to stay. Otherwise, keep your love life away from me. And maybe you stay away from me too.”

Chris ends the call, and two seconds later Buck is ringing him again. Chris doesn’t pick up, just sets his phone on his desk and buries his face in his arms. He doesn’t want to cry. He did too much of that after he got to El Paso the first time. But he’s going to miss Tommy. He’s going to miss seeing his dad smile like that. He’s going to miss the dopey lovesick way Buck moved through the world.

When Chris finally composes himself, he sees two more missed video calls from Buck, and a string of texts:

Love you, buddy. Sorry you’re upset. Call later to talk? Or call your therapist?

I really am sorry. I thought Tommy was going to stay too.

Text me pls? So I know you’re ok

Chris texts back: im fine. we’ll be fine. i need some time and gets a response almost immediately.

OK. Take the time you need. Your dad says if you decide to come back and you’re still mad you won’t have to see me if you don’t want to

Chris, always being left behind, feels a sick surge of satisfaction at the prospect. He could be the one who leaves. He can cut his losses before they’re fatal, he can amputate the limb before it goes septic. He texts Buck a single k back and does not examine the way something in the back of his head tells him, quite viciously, that this isn’t the first time that Buck’s been left this week.

[4ranghaes]

Leehan song fic? 🤲

Saw u have the flu I hope u get better soon <3

song fic!💋

now playing… rises the moon by liana flores

kim leehan x reader [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

a/n - thank you for your well wishes pookie i’m actually recovering at a crazy pace! still have a fucked up voice though🥲 enjoy!!!

00:19 - “stop moving,” a calm voice calm from behind you.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, turning over again to look at your boyfriend.

donghyun’s eyes suddenly widened, regretting his earlier comment as he saw your eyes filled with tears. “it’s okay! i’m sorry! what’s wrong, darling?”

you shook your head, taking a breath as he pulled you into his chest, stroking the back of your head calmly.

“no, no, it’s okay,” you sniffled, chuckling at his concern, “i just can’t sleep at all and i don’t know why.”

“i’m sorry, my love,” donghyun said. neither of your voices had risen much above a whisper, besides being the only two people in your apartment.

“i’m so tired too,” you whined in a small voice, your forehead pressed against his chest, feeling his heart steadily beating and his calm breath.

leehan sighed, kissing the top of your head gently, “i’m gonna get up okay? i’ll be back in a minute though. you just lay down and try to relax.”

you nodded, pulling yourself away from your boyfriend’s body, collecting yourself after your tears and nestling into the pillows on your double bed, mainly donghyun’s, retaining his scent even as he walked to your window, opening the curtains so the moon was visible to you from where you lay in bed. he then left the room completely, and when he appeared again he was carrying a mug and a packet of chocolate.

“my mum always helped me go to sleep when i was little like this,” he murmured, handing you the warm mug before getting into bed beside you, holding you up against his body, but not so much you were sat up completely. “honey tea, chocolate, and watching the moon.”

“watching the moon?” you smiled, leehan nodding definitively.

“it’s relaxing. plus, helps you to know that it’s night,” he said, before pausing and pulling a face, “i know it sounds stupid, but it’s there, you know? we always used to say ‘good night mr. moon’ but really that meant hello for him.”

you chuckled, sipping the tea slowly as you leaned into donghyun’s body, “that’s sweet.”

he smiled, kissing the top of your head as, you did in fact, watch the moon. you put the tea down, having some chocolate and offering some to donghyun too, he took it, nibbling slowly, but mostly watching you.

“here, lay down,” he whispered, scooting your bodies further down the bed before placing his hand on your head, moving it into his chest, “close your eyes. breathe.”

you did as he said, taking a deep breath, your body relaxing into donghyun’s on the out breath.

“good night, my love,” he whispered, his arm rubbing steady patterns on your arm.

your eyelids felt heavy as your arm stayed strongly wrapped around his waist, your head on his chest and you leg slung around his hips. “good night, hyunnie.”

[immodestly-marina]

Hey there!

I am a huge Sam girl and I was hoping you could write a nice fix for us wherein the reader gets badly hurt on a hunt but doesn't tell the boys and later passes out on Sam in the bunker. That's when they find out and both the boys panic especially Sam but take good care of her to get her to recovery. Reader recovers physically but mentally she's got a bit disturbed and gets a bad panic attack but Sam helps her through it as well and then it's all fluff in the end maybe? Pretty please! Also, I love your account!

A/n: This is literally so cute, I’ve actually thought about this before! There have been a few times where I’ve been very close to fainting, so I based this off of my own experiences. Thanks for the idea, I hope you enjoy! Also, for the sake of this imagine/os, Sam’s room is near the library because my dumbass forgot he sleeps in a whole separate hall lol.

Warnings: Fainting, mentions of slight head trauma, worried Sam, Sam daydreaming about you in his bed (If you really squint)

Funnily enough, Dean was the first to notice something was wrong. The way you slowly swayed side to side when standing, before bracing yourself on the countertop you stood by. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you, nonetheless, he continued to shove another handful of frosted flakes into his mouth.

It wasn’t until Sam entered the room that you began to feel really spaced out. He laid a file and some newspaper clippings on the table in front of Dean, turning to you to go over new information about your current hunt. 

“I think we might be dealing with a Berserker,” He stated, opening the folder to further explain.

Dean set his box of cereal down, brushing the crumbs off his hands. “Fantastic, because I know exactly what that is.” he replied sarcastically, Sam rolled his eyes and held up his hand as if to say Hold on, I’m getting to that.

You stepped away from the counter, standing closer to Sam as he proceeded to explain. You felt nauseous, opting to stay silent as you felt talking would only make it worse. As he went on, you felt a head rush creep up on you, your vision going blurry before becoming completely clouded.

Dean watched you rock to the side trying to keep your balance, again.

You turned your head, pretending you were able to actually see Sam when you turned to look at him. He hadn’t yet clued in to the near blank expression on your face, not until he turned to face you as well.

Your face went white as his voice began to sound muffled, you could almost make out his faint, “Y’okay there, hun?”

You blinked, barely making out a response before stumbling forward and dropping in his arms, Sam quickly catching and holding your limp body upright against him with a small stumble.

“Woah, hey- hey!” Dean jumps up from his seat to grab something, anything, really. He spins and paces around the floor, realizing now that he’s up and about… he has no idea what the fuck he’s looking for. Sam turns his head, frantically looking at him before rolling his eyes. “Anything with salt or sugar, Dean.”

Dean speed walked around to find something to get your blood sugar up, while Sam carefully lifted you up and carried you to his bed. It’s the nearest one, he thought, might as well lie her down as quickly as possible, that’s all. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn’t get some form of butterflies at the thought of you sleeping in his bed, but that’s beside the point.

He laid you down as gently as he could, trying not to fall on top of you out of nervousness in the process. He sighed, brushing his hair back from his face before shaking out his blanket and laying it over you.

You stirred a little bit before waking, slowly blinking your eyes open to find yourself in bed. Sam stepped into the room with a glass of water, setting it down on the small table beside the bed next to a bowl of dry frosted flakes and extreme cheddar Goldfish (courtesy of Dean Winchester). You rub your eyes with your knuckles, feeling your head pound until Sam flicks off the light.

“Better?” He sighs a little, you nod and wince.

“What happened today?” Sam’s voice was soft and quiet as he knelt down beside you, his hands resting on the edge of the bed. You bring your fingers to the bridge of your nose, pinching it lightly to relieve the pain in your head. Sam gave you a pained look before reaching his hand up to feel your forehead, which was a tad warmer than it normally should be.

“Whatever that… thing was, when it threw me, I must’ve hit my head harder then I thought.” You sigh, “I threw up when we got back, ‘been dizzy since we lost it in the woods.” He shakes his head, sighing.

“Why didn’t you say something?” He rested his hand on your knee, running his thumb back and forth ever so slightly. A blush creeped it’s way across your cheeks, his touch sending butterflies straight to your stomach. You hope he doesn’t notice.

You hastily shake your head, “I didn’t wanna worry you guys, or…” Your hands tangle back into your hair to massage your scalp a little. “I ‘dunno, bother you…?”

He chuckles at that. “How would that be a bother?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I ‘dunno, sometimes I just feel in the way, I guess.”

Sam tilts his head before shaking it softly, hand moving to take hold of yours. “You’re not in the way. Not at all.” He frowns a little at your way of thinking. He knows you don’t mean to feel so negative, but he feels bad knowing they may have made you feel that way.

“If we, or I, ever made you feel that way, I am so, so sorry.” You lazily nod, looking down.

He tilts his head down, moving lower to find your eyes. He grins when that pulls a giggle out of you, “I promise you, ‘kay?” He says through a chuckle. You nod your head with a little more enthusiasm, though still trying to avoid any further pain in your head.

“Thanks, Sammy…” You address him by his nickname for the first time, which was always said to be reserved for Dean, and Dean only. Instead of protesting, Sam simply brushes the hair from your eyes, smiling sweetly. “Of course, darlin’ ” he whispers before standing up.

“You wanna come out and laze in the library for a bit, or do you wanna sleep in here?” Sam secretly hoped you’d pick the latter, as he was just fine with you sleeping in his room, and maybe even sharing a bed with him for the night. Just in case you need help during the night, of course.

You hesitate to answer, your injury somehow giving you the confidence to ask: “Can I do both…?”

Sam quickly nods his head. “Yeah!” He clears his throat, “Yeah, that’s fine,” He watches the smirk appear on your face, you find his caring and somewhat nervous demenour sweet. You nod in response.

He helps you to stand, guiding you back to the library. You slump into the seat, all of you continuing your prior conversation (much more quietly, as it’s highly possible it’s a concussion you’re dealing with). Dean chucks a pair of sunglasses at you after you complain about the bright room for the third time, and you all sit around each other, cracking jokes the rest of the night when you should be focused on research. Sam is much more protective of you for the next little while during your recovery, and neither of them allow you to join them for this hunt until you feel better again.

You’ve never felt more cared for than you do right now, with them. You’ve never felt more at home.

[vodika-vibes]

Hey, Vod'ika!! I'm in an Echo mood lately.

What about a fic where the reader has been with the batch since before the Empire and the reader and Echo got together round about the time of Order 66. The reader decides to join Rex's rebellion which Echo doesn't mind in fact he loves seeing you everyday. But after taking down Tantiss, Echo notices how you talk to the batch and how you just seem to fit in well on Pabu, so Echo gets an overbearing feeling that he's holding you back from an ordinary life so you have to reassure him that your home is wherever he is. ❤

Wouldn't Change A Thing

Summary: You’re always happy to get to visit your boys, and spending a week on Pabu is always a treat, but when you return to the fight with Echo after this most recent visit, he’s quieter and more withdrawn. And you’re worried.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1117

Warnings: None

A/N: This fic is soft, though I'm setting it in a perfect TBB AU where Tech is still alive. Because I'm a writer and I'm allowed to delude myself like that. (Though, he's actually not mentioned in this story). Anyway, I hope you like it!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You stretch your arms over your head with a groan as you step out of the fresher and into the suite you share with Echo. As much as you love visiting Pabu, and seeing your boys, sometimes you feel like you need a vacation to recover from your vacation.

Honestly, Hunter can be so exhausting sometimes. And that’s even with him mellowing out since Omega came into his life.

You’re so glad you’re not their handler anymore.

You stretch a little more and grimace when the sunburn on your shoulders pulls uncomfortably. It’s fine, you’ll have Echo put aloe on your back before bed.

Speaking of said man—

Your gaze sweeps across the room. He’s not sitting on the couch, and the bedroom door is propped open, so you can see that he’s not in there either. Then you hear the familiar sound of dishes clinking together, so you turn and poke your head into the kitchen.

Echo’s back is to you, but you’d be surprised if he didn’t know that you were there. For a moment, you watch the muscles ripple across his back, and a tiny smile lifts your lips as you lean your head against the door frame.

Maker, you love him so much.

Echo pauses, and turns his head slightly, “You’re staring.”

“Mm, yeah,” You say through an adoring sigh.

He rolls his eyes and flings a damp washcloth at you. It smacks your chest and falls into your hand, “I’m hardly worth staring at.”

“Agree to disagree, my darling~”

“Cyare.”

“My beloved.” You continue with a grin as you cross the room to stand next to him, “My only. My—” Your words become muffled when he presses his hand over your mouth.

“Hush, you.”

There’s color high on his cheeks, and you giggle in delight. Something softens on his face at the sound of your giggle and he moves his hand from your mouth just enough that he’s able to caress your jaw. 

“You’ve got a sunburn,” Echo notes as he lightly brushes his scomp across the burn on the back of your neck and upper shoulders. 

“Yeah, I’ll need you to help me with some aloe later,” You reply absently as you rub your cheek against the palm of his hand, “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, the love of my life wants me to massage lotion into her skin. Whatever shall I do?” He counters, deadpan.

“How is it that you become more sarcastic after spending time with the boys?” You marvel.

“It’s a defense mechanism for having to deal with little brothers.”

You laugh and reach up to cup his face, “Well, I like it when you’re sarcastic.”

“Only because it means that you can be sarcastic right back at me,” He teases with a tiny smile, though the smile fades as he scans your face.

“Echo? What’s wrong?” You ask him, with a tilt of your head.

“You looked pretty happy on Pabu.” He murmurs.

“I mean, sure. Who’s not going to be happy to be able to lie on a beach with a fruity drink?”

“You seem to fit in well there,” Echo continues, “And the others were so happy to see you. And you were happy to see them.”

“Honestly, I’m not convinced that they’re able to survive without me,” You whisper up to him like you’re sharing a secret. “I think Crosshair lost weight, can you believe that!?”

“Cyare,” The affectionate pet name is murmured through a sigh, and you drop your hands from his cheeks, so you’re able to wrap your arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong, Echo? Talk to me.”

“I love that you’re here. I love waking up and seeing you every day.” Echo says slowly, “But, cyare, if you’d be happier on Pabu. I can take you back. You don’t have to stay here.”

You blink at him, struck mute by his words.

Slowly your arms drop from around his neck and you take half a step back, you can’t think when you’re wrapped around him like that. “Echo,” You speak slowly, “Do you want me to leave?”

Echo draws you back into his arms. Unlike you, he thinks more clearly when you’re in his arms. “Never. I want you here, in my arms, all of the time.” He presses his nose into your hair, his voice soft right by your ear, “But if you’re not happy here, then I’ll let you go in a heartbeat.”

Well, that’s what it is to love someone, isn’t it? If you love them, really and truly love them, you’ll want them happy. Even if it means that they’re not with you.

A soft sigh falls from your lips and you turn your head slightly so you’re able to kiss the side of his head, “Have I ever implied that I’m not happy here?” You ask.

“No, but I know you. You’d downplay a fatal injury if you worried it was going to be an inconvenience.” Echo replies.

You wrap your arms tightly around him again, “Then allow me to be blunt,” You trail light fingers across his skin, tracing the scars that show you that your love is a survivor, “Yes, I like Pabu. And yes, I like seeing my boys.”

He tenses slightly, his arms tightening.

“But, Echo, I am happier on Pabu when you are there. And I am happier spending time with the boys when you are with me.” He pulls back slightly, so he’s able to look you in the eye, and you continue with a small smile, “My place, Echo, is wherever you are. Be it here, or Pabu, or a moisture farm on Tatooine.”

“Cyar’ika—”

“And I wouldn’t change a single thing.” You pause, “Well, maybe I’d change the whole rise of the Empire thing, but that’s the only thing I’d change!” You inch closer to him so that you’re pressed flush against his body, “I love you, Echo. And I will stay here, with you, until you get tired of me.”

“It’ll never happen.” Echo replies as he bumps his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure? I can be really annoying.”

“The most aggravating woman I’ve ever met,” Echo agrees, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, “But I wouldn’t change you for all of the credits in the galaxy.”

“Good.”

Any further conversation is unnecessary, as Echo’s lips catch yours in a deep kiss and he starts walking you back towards the bedroom. “I should get the aloe,” He murmurs against your lips, “Something something good boyfriend.”

“You just want to be a pervert,” You accuse.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” He laughs against your jaw, as he kicks the bedroom door shut.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

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@trixie2023

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@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

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[slxtarchive]

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 … you, your boyfriend chris, and his brothers went to the bowling alley for a fun night.

ᥫ᭡ … you sat on the seat eating the nachos chris had bought while he set up each of your names on the screen. you looked and saw as he entered each name one by one. matt, nick, you, then chris.

matt was the first one up grabbing a bowling ball of his choice before smirking at chris and nick. “prepare yourself. i’ve beat you both once…” he then turned toward you. ���and now i’ll add another loser to my list.” he teased.

you rolled your eyes shooing him. “yap yap. we’ll see about that.”

he laughed before taking his turn. unfortunately, he did in fact roll a strike. “what did i say?” he shrugged, walking off and back to where he sat. “nick you’re up.”

nick huffed. “i can assure you i’m not going to be any better than last time.” he said grabbing the ball and rolling it hitting a few pins down. “fuck.” he cursed and grabbed the other ball. he rolled it again and hit a couple more but not clearing them all. “mother fucker. i hate this shit.” he walked back as his brothers and you giggled.

you stood up knowing you were next. “watch and learn.” you smiled as you picked up the bowling ball. you got yourself ready before rolling it down the lane. you hit the center leaving two pins on either side. “you’re kidding me.”

you heard laughs from the triplets. “good luck with that, baby.” chris said leaned back man spread. he looked so good. you ignored the fact that your throat dried up when you saw him and grabbed another ball. you then aimed for one of the pins knowing that’s all you could get.

you ended up hitting the right one down. “at least i got one.” you shrugged heading back.

chris stood up high-fiving you. “good job.” he said puckering his lips which you instinctively pecked. he then continued to get a bowling ball as you sat down. he inserted his fingers in the holes designated for them and the way his hands moved and swiftly handled the bowling ball had you clenching your thighs.

he held it in his hand trying to get a good grip of the ball making sure it wouldn’t slip off which further showed the veins opposite of his palm.

you looked and saw the way he held it with one hand finally getting ready to bowl it. the way his veins reached all the way up his forearm.

you took a deep breath not wanting anyone to notice how it suddenly started to become a little high in temperature in the alley.

what made everything even better was when he rolled the ball and hit a strike. “holy shit! let’s fucking go!” he cheered, his smile radiating. he made eye contact with you as you were recovering from seeing his fine ass. his brows furrowed for a split second before looking at matt. “matt did you fucking see that?”

matt grumbled. “yes i did.” he playfully rolled his eyes getting up to complete his turn once again.

chris smiled and walked back toward you. “you okay baby?” he questioned seeing a difference in how you were sitting.

you snapped back into reality and nodded. “oh! yeah im fine.” wrong. you weren’t fine. you were actually thinking of the amount of ways he could make you feel good right now.

chris nodded and even though you thought he didn’t notice, he did. he noticed the slight way your cheeks flushed and the movement in your thighs. he noticed how you bit your lip slightly. how your stare was a thousand miles away as if your mind was moving a thousand miles a minute.

he smoked to himself, loving the effect he had on you. so he continued on, doing small things that he knew would drive you insane.

when it was finally time to go you were so needy to the point where you were about to beg to be touched. matt had drove you guys to the triplets house and you and chris climbed up the stairs and entered his room. he closed the door and immediately started getting ready for bed.

you became a bit shy at what to do so you changed as well. you changed into a cute little pajama set before going to the restroom and washing up. the whole time though you couldn’t take your mind off of chris’s hands. how his fingers could stimulate you just the right way. you were dripping at the thought.

as you finally finished, you walked out to see chris laying on the bed shirtless with his hands behind his head “all ready for bed baby?” he questioned earning a small nod from you. you climbed into bed sitting beside him still dozing off. that’s when chris placed a hand on your thigh in between both of them and in response you mindlessly squeezed them. he audibly chuckled at your action. “you okay?”

you nodded, embarrassed and not wanting to say what you were enduring. he licked his bottom lip before rubbing your thigh. “so you had fun bowling?” he was teasing you. every time his hand moved up further toward where you needed him and you thought he’d finally touch you, he’d move it back down — keeping you with that feeling of immense need.

you couldn’t focus on anything else. you didn’t even notice he has asked a question until he squeezed your thigh with the hand you were staring at. “what you thinkin’ about?” he spoke quietly, his voice sultry. he knew exactly what he was doing.

your throat became dry as you were about to speak. “um..” you avoided eye contact as you tried to control your breathing. your heart raced and your pussy felt like it was pulsing. you looked at his hand again, the image of his fingers gripping the inside of the ball and the veins that you found so attractive. your mouth was dry. God, you needed him so bad.

he turned his body toward you. “mm.. so nervous.” he flitted his eyes from your lips to your hands that were in fists before looking up again trying to find your eyes. “look at my baby, c’mon.” he purred removing his hand from your thigh to steady himself before moving his left hand and tilting your head toward his.

you reluctantly looked him in his eyes earning a smile from him. “there she is. tell me what you want?” he was confident in knowing how needy you became. his thumb went to your bottom lip slowing passing across it before grabbing your jaw. “if you tell me …” he didn’t finish his sentence. it was like he wanted you to finish it for him in your head because you did know what he’d say and what he’d meant.

if you told him then he’d give you what you want

you took a breath before speaking, “want you to touch me.” you confessed those words quietly. chris smiled down at you loving the way you fell apart with his touch. “please..” you began to bed.

he began to nudge your thighs apart the cool air hitting in between them. you got the chills when he trailed his fingers alone the inside of them. “how bad?” he frowned sarcastically.

you took matters into your own hands and guided his hand to placed right on your heat. “bad.” you whispered before looking at him. his lips looked so pink and kissable.

chris felt the room heat up as you guided his hand toward where you needed him. he then trailed his own hand to the waistband of your underwear and reached in pressing to fingers onto your clit.

your breathing hitched feeling his cold fingers on your hot cunt. you leaned back against the headboard, your legs opening wider by default. chris slowly and gradually moved his fingers in a circle motion over your clit.

he scooted more back to lean against the backboard of the best so that he was able to take his right hand and pull your chin toward him to connect your lips. you moaned inside his mouth feeling his fingers speed up a bit. “what got you this needy, baby?” he murmured against your lips. he pecked them a few times more before slowly his fingers down. “answer me..”

you gulped, leaning forward as he leaned back away from your lips. your eyes pleasingly moved from his lips to eyes. “mm… because of when you.. you know…” you trailed off, feeling small under his gaze. he raised his brows wanting you to finish. “when you grabbed the bowling ball. your hands — they looked really good.” you were almost breathless as you told him what got you all hot and bothered.

his fingers quickly sped up as you said what was in our mind. “yeah? you like the way my hands look?” he teased, his fingers quickening and your legs shaking in response.

you nodded grabbing chris’s shoulder and squeezing it as you felt yourself begin to slip away into the needed ecstasy you’ve wanted al day. “mhmm… chris — feels so good. please, don’t stop chris.”

his chest moved up and down as he tried to get you to your high faster. “don’t worry baby, m’not gonna stop. wanna make my girl feel so good.”

those words were the final push you needed to hit the edge race before your core snapped like a rubber band. you felt the wave of pleasure hit you, your hands squeezing chris’s chest as the sweet sound of your moans blessed his ears.

he slowed down his fingers but not all the way trying to ride you out of your high. your chest began to slow as you calmed down. your eyes were screwed shut but as you finally opened them you caught chris admiring you. you blushed, always feeling nervous around him regardless of the situation. “stop staring.” you leaned your forehead against his shoulder.

“mm.. never.”

© slxtarchive

[kinardsevan]

FYI, I'm crowdfunding a retirement plan for Tim and a place for you on the 911 writers team. I'm sure you can help them sort out the rest of the plots too!

I don’t know if this is genuine or sarcastic, so I’m just going to say this:

I don’t claim to know anything about media literacy. What I do understand is intricate plot and telling a compelling story. I also understand that from the end of 806, I said almost immediately “I feel manipulated”. This has deep personal connotations for me, but the point remains, and because of those personal relations, I get an actual “ick” about feeling manipulated. Now again, I have zero clarity one way or the other as to whether the manipulation is based out of them actually fucking this storyline up or if it’s because of the way they’re trying to pitch it to us as an “exit” and “ending”. Either way, that hasn’t left me.

All I know at the end of the day is that if these people don’t understand how to recover from this decision, they don’t belong in writing television. There’s also the point that I’ve made this week, that this is not the first time TM & Co have done something like this. They’ve done it with Madney. They’ve done it with Tarlos. We’ve even seen it to some degree with Bathena. What set us all off was the interviews, which we’ve all stated from day one were …odd. The thing that stays with me though, is the fact that not once has any one of these interviews stated “Tommy Kinard is gone for good”. I’ve read dozens of exit interviews (said this too earlier this week), and the only people CALLING it an exit interview, are the interviewers. Lou said the arc was over. By the very definition of what needs to be shared and said between BuckTommy for the reconciliation, he’s right. They’ve spanned the first arc of their relationship. Further, another thing that sticks out in my mind is his statement towards how he wouldn’t turn down playing Tommy again because, to his knowledge, there’s nothing else similar to their relationship happening on television. Which is SO important for representation. I also keep thinking about his tweet “keep the hope alive”. Obviously that can be read as he just wants more work… or it can be read as, there’s more coming, don’t give up on them yet.

Above all else, it’s the crowd reaction. We know the “other team” thinks this is all to tee them up into their pairing, and here’s my response to that:

One, it’s not. Because we know that’s now what TPTB want. But two, if it is, I hope they’re prepared for the mass exodus that takes place when all the people who DON’T want that pairing stop watching. And of course, those who do but don’t get the version of it that they want because RG and OS don’t want to play it the way the fandom thinks it should.

I’m not above saying that if they made them canon, I don’t think I’d stick around. It doesn’t serve the story, it spits in the face of what RG has been trying to communicate for years about himself and Hispanic men in general, and especially on the heels of this, it would feel dirty.

Anyway, I rambled on on this far longer than I meant to. Oops!

[mariaofdoranelle]

Stage Kiss

Written for Throne of Glass Microfics

This accidentally ended up the size of two microfics but I’m tagging you if you’ll still have me @throneofglassmicrofics

Prompts: mainly indulge but I ended up using mayhem too

Warning: teenagers

Words: 1,9k 🫣

1st run

Today, at 3:30 p.m., Rowan would kiss Aelin Galathynius on the cheek.

Pathetically enough, this little knowledge was on the forefront of his mind all day. Not his classes, no. Just Aelin’s ivory—occasionally rosy—cheek.

“Whitethorn!” Fenrys shouted in the hallway several steps behind, forcing him to turn and stop so his friend could catch up. “Looking good,” Fen said, playfully slapping the back of his hand against Rowan’s bicep.

Rowan rolled his eyes. He thought that going to the gym every day—plus taking supplements behind his mom’s back—would magically make him more confident. It didn’t. The only difference was that he looked slightly less thin, so now Fenrys occasionally catcalls him and reacts to his IG stories with the flame emoji.

Even worse, Remelle Wiselheade was now hitting on him. His plan to get Aelin’s attention absolutely backfired.

As if he was a mind-reader, Fenrys said, “And how does it feel to be Aelin’s husband?”

Rowan blinked. “Uh…”

“I mean in the play!” Fenrys threw his head back and cackled, then urged them towards the school theater. “Bro, you’re—“

“I obviously knew that!” Rowan said, defensive.

He was just taking theater classes because his mom thought it’d help him with the shyness. But Aelin? Aelin Galathynius could give Margot Robbie a good run for her money—in both talent and beauty.

If enduring his crush on her during classes wasn’t enough, they were acting as husband and wife for this play.

And it required him to kiss her on the cheek.

He was glad that Mr. Emrys, their drama teacher, had a no-kids-kissing-on-stage policy. Rowan was half a lip virgin—that thing with Lyria didn’t count—and while having an almost first kiss with Aelin would’ve been great, he wasn’t looking forward to a very public cardiovascular malfunction.

Once inside, he quickly found her by a wall with Nehemia. Aelin didn’t see him at first, but he slowed his pace to look at her better, making Fenrys—who was right behind him—trip and take Rowan down with him. Not down, since both recovered before falling face-first on the floor, but the whole thing was loud enough that now he had Aelin’s attention. At the worst moment imaginable.

She smiled at him and sent a tiny wave, and by the poorly hidden smirk on Nehemia’s face—very similar to Fenrys’—she must’ve figured out his crush on Aelin. She had to. Nehemia Ytger was one of the smartest people he knew, he just hoped she’d keep her mouth shut for now.

Once everyone gathered around Mr. Emrys and he gave them directions for today, the first rehearsal for Hamlet began.

It passed like a blur until the scene arrived.

[Modified Act 1, Scene 2]

The court gathers. Claudius stands before the throne—simple practice chairs, actually—with Gertrude at his side. Hamlet watches from a distance, looking somber and disapproving.

Rowan didn’t want to read too much into why he learned even the narration. He turned to his “court” and said:

Though my dear brother’s death is fresh in memory, we must also move forward.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Gently holding Aelin’s hand, Rowan swallowed and almost froze when it was time, but her encouraging smile propelled him further.

He might’ve just dipped in and out, but feeling her skin under his lips was the quickest yet longest second of his life.

His cheek kiss was followed by deafening silence. For a second Rowan thought he’d embarrassed himself somehow, until he found everyone staring at Fenrys, waiting for Hamlet.

His friend looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I forgot.”

“A little more than kin, and less than kind, Moonbeam.” Mr. Emrys took a calming breath. “Let’s do another run of this scene, shall we?”

2nd run

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan took Aelin’s hand again. Both experience and her open expression made him kiss her cheek more confidently this time, and he was calm enough to enjoy the moment.

The same awkward silence again.

“Mr. E, I have ADHD,” Fenrys protested, though the twitch in the corners of his mouth betrayed the seriousness. “Don’t you think it’s a bit fascist of you to make me learn all these lines in medieval?”

It’s called ‘Early Modern Common Tongue’, Moonbeam. You’ll learn with practice.” Mr. Emrys settled back into his seat. “Let’s do another run.”

4th run

By now, Rowan was very well practiced in kissing Aelin’s cheek.

Because of the political nature of their characters’ marriage, a greater actor would make Claudius give Gertrude a triumphant look rather than a fond one, but if Mr. Emrys wanted a great actor, he should’ve thought twice before casting Rowan.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

As practiced, he reverently took Aelin’s hand and leaned in for the cheek kiss.

But she turned her head. The spot on her cheek that he focused on became a blur, and before he could grasp the situation, he felt the softness of her lips in his.

An awkward miscalculation on her part.

Or was it?

The way Rowan jerked back in surprise made their peck quicker than the other kisses.

“Whitethorn!” Mr. Emrys called, one finger pointed at him. “That was supposed to be on the cheek, mister.”

He froze, glancing wide-eyed between the teacher and Aelin’s mischievous look. He could protest and clarify that she was the one to incite the kiss, but that would just be loser—worse, virgin—behavior.

Rowan may be both, but he sure wasn’t acting like it.

With the snickers that came from the students, their teacher’s stance relaxed. He slowly shook his head and muttered, “Teenagers,” as a chuckle escaped him.

5th run

Rowan was determined to return Aelin’s peck, which meant that now stakes were higher. This time, he was even more nervous than before the rehearsal started.

She is cute. Rowan really likes her. And she kissed him first.

And this self-pep talk was shit at calming him down.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Instead of holding her hand, Rowan held her jaw instead. By their silent exchange, she had an inkling of what was coming, and her expression seemed welcoming. A quick brush of his thumb as another warning, and he leaned in.

Pillowy soft lips briefly against his was a brief shoot to the skies and back.

It was quick. It was glorious. The sweet, sticky feel of her lipgloss was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“A little more than kind, and—“

“Gods, Fenrys, it’s kin!” Nehemia shouted from the sidelines, distracting the teacher enough to forget about the kiss.

After this, Mr. Emrys stopped complaining—he had bigger battles to fight.

7th run

After their third kiss—plus four on the cheek—Rowan began to wonder if it was too soon for a “What are we?” conversation.

Maybe he should ask her out.

Scratch that, he was absolutely asking her out. If he got rejected, life would go on—after he changed schools.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan stroke her cheek with his thumb and leaned in once again for their peck, but once he did, Aelin threaded her fingers through his hair and kept him there, tilted her head. She waited a second for his response, then retreated once it didn’t come.

Shit. Was this—

With hawk-like speed, Rowan grasped her face with both hands before she could draw back and… well, it was too much of a whirlwind inside his head to make sense of what was going on. All he knew was exploring tongues and her hands on his neck and his heart that threatened to leap out of his throat to interrupt the kiss.

He couldn’t believe he was kissing Aelin Galathynius, and she felt so soft. Soft lips, soft skin, a soft sigh that he felt in areas he’d rather forget to not embarrass himself.

“A little more than kin, and—HOLY SHIT”

The absolute silence turned into mayhem once Fenrys abruptly addressed what was going on. Once he did, the students howled and whistled at them.

However, the only reaction he cared about was Aelin’s, who stared at him with flushed cheeks and wide turquoise eyes that sparkled with something he couldn’t quite place. She giggled and hid it behind her hand, and the sight of her nervous excitement brought a funny feeling to his stomach.

“Okay, that’s enough,” their teacher said to interrupt everyone’s shouts and cheers. “Moonbeam, you’ll arrive with your lines fully memorized next time—this is not a request. Everyone’s dismissed except for Whitethorn and Galathynius.”

The mood immediately sobered as students grabbed their things between whispers. It didn’t affect him like people thought it would, though. Rowan had just kissed Aelin—with tongue. Mr. Emrys could put him in detention ‘til eternity, he didn’t give a fuck.

They got ready to leave along with everyone else, but gathered around the chair their teacher was still on once the theater was empty.

A twitch of Mr. Emry’s lips into a firm line told them he was trying to get into ‘stern teacher’ mode. He’s not really the authoritative type, but they broke the rules, and it was in the job description that he plays a role for discipline’s sake.

“In the script, it says ‘kiss on the cheek’, and I need my actors to do exactly as scripted, okay?”

Rowan and Aelin both muttered their agreements.

“Great. If that—“ Mr. Emrys pointed at the spot their kiss happened. “happens again, I’ll have to take measures all three of us won’t like.”

“We understand.”

“Great.” He said in an upbeat mode, without his ‘stern teacher’ frown, switching back to ‘nice teacher’ mode. “Glad that’s settled. You can go now, but I want you in your best behavior from now on.”

The thing about Mr. Emrys is that he’s a really cool dude. He rarely gets angry at his students, most times it’s an odd sort of fond exasperation. It worked on their favor this time, but Rowan wouldn’t take it for granted.

Outside, Aelin stopped once the door was closed. So did he. The playful flirtation they had during rehearsal was gone, and Rowan was unsure on how to make a move in this awkward silence.

It was now or never, though.

Aelin chuckled and went her way down the hall, which he followed beside her.

“So, that happened.”

He gave her a brief, close-lipped smile. “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” She swiftly looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Doyouwannagooutsometime?”

Rowan hoped the blood rushing into his cheeks wasn’t visible from outer space.

Aelin had both hands gripping the shoulder straps of her backpack as she fought the corners of her lips from quirking up.

“Sure,” she said. “Do you have something in mind? Because there’s this movie I really wanna watch—”

“We can watch it.”

Aelin bit her bottom lip, eyes brimming with amusement. “I haven’t told you which movie it is yet.”

He tilted his head, silently urging her to give the information.

Please, anything but that gorey demon one he saw last weekend.

“Do you wanna go see Healers vs. Demons?”

“Sounds great,” Rowan half-lied.

Any movie sounded great if it was on his first date with Aelin.

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[stbot]

PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE BISHOVA MEET CUTE FROM YOUR TAGS (if you want to, no pressure)

(Prompt: do you think vampires get run over because people can’t see them in their rear view mirrors?)

The first time Kate’s official S.H.I.E.L.D. communicator goes off, she’s in the middle of a terrible recurring stress dream where she’s made it to the finals of Hell’s Kitchen, but all the ingredients keep coming alive like they escaped from the set of a new Muppets movie and Gordon Ramsey won’t stop yelling that “the carrots are so raw even Bugs Bunny won’t eat them!”

Which is to say, that in all the dream-chaos, she doesn’t actually hear it at all. (And also that she should probably stop watching cartoons before bed, but that’s a problem for Future Kate.)

So when she jerks awake in a cold sweat, begging the vegetables to “stop singing so i can murder you for Gordon,” it takes a minute for her to recover enough to notice that the insistant beeping isn’t actually the kitchen timer letting her know that’s she’s about to burn some boiling water, but rather that she’s being summoned.

By S.H.I.E.L.D.

For her first real assignment as a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative.

And she’s still wearing her yummy sushi pajamas.

“Oh, shit!”

Kate flings herself out of bed with such force that Pizza Dog startles awake, immediately on alert for intruders. But he quickly realizes it’s just his human doing what she does, and he settles back down at the foot of the bed. His eye tracks Kate, frantically yanking clothes out of her dresser while said pajamas get flung in the general vicinity of the hamper. He gives an eager whine when she pulls her socks on, but she just grimaces in reply.

“Sorry, buddy,” she apologizes, “but this is a work call. We’ll take a nice long walk when I’m back, promise.” She gives his head a quick pat, “go back to sleep,” and then rattles down the stairs, her pants still unbuttoned and her flaccid belt dangling useless from the loops.

—

Kate stumbles out of the elevator, hopping on one foot as she tries to tie the shoelaces on the other. The squeaking rubber of her sole ricochets off the concrete walls of the parking garage, the soft thump of her hops beating out the unsteady rhythm of a toddler who just discovered the joy of smacking things. But eventually the knot is knotted and Kate gets both feet back on the ground. She removes her bow from her mouth and bolts through the garage.

Soon enough, she’s running up on her super cool, super sweet, super not at all intimidating to drive official S.H.I.E.L.D. Suburban. (Apparently ride shares are, in Director Fury’s words, “unprofessional” and “a security risk”, so Kate is now officially liscensed to drive in the State of New York.)

(God help anyone she shares the road with.)

A quick press of the key fob and the alarm chirps, the driver’s door easily popping open when Kate pulls the handle. She clambers inside, tucking her bow on the passenger seat, and then awkwardly wiggles the strap of her quiver over her head. (And only accidentally hits the horn twice, much improved from the last time where there was so much thrashing she worried she might set off the airbag.)

Once the bow and her arrows are secured, Kate starts the car, buckles up, and checks all her mirrors. It’s the middle of the night, so there’s not much risk, but she’s still pretty new to this whole driving thing, and better safe than sorry.

It looks all clear, so Kate slips the SUV into reverse and backs out of the parking spot, with maybe a little more lead in her foot than she should. But it’s late, and the garage is empty, so she’s sure it’ll be just —

THUNK.

“Oh my God,” Kate says.

“Oh my God!” Someone behind the car shouts.

“Oh my God!” Kate screams, frantically clawing at the handle to escape this death trap monstrosity before it murders her, too. The door pops open and as soon as she moves to flee, the car begins rolling backward.

“Stop!” The person shouts again. “You’ve already hit me once!”

Kate slams her foot back on the brake, puts the SUV in park, and then gets out.

Only for the seatbelt to yank her back in when she tries.

(That’s it. Unprofessional or not, she’s sticking with the subway from now on. The only real danger there is being forced to listen to buskers or get bit by a rat.)

Freed from the car’s attempt to strangle her, Kate rushes around the back just in time to see a woman standing up. Which is great! Dead people don’t walk around on two feet so Kate hasn’t committed vehicular manslaughter! What a great night!

It’s hard to tell, with her back turned to Kate, but it seems like the woman is just a little disheveled. Some dust on her leather coat. Short blonde hair in slight disarray. And a backpack’s been flung several feet away from the almost-murder scene. But other than that… no blood, no bones protruding from any skin, no damage at all really.

“I am,” Kate moves for the bag, “just so so sorry. I swear I checked my mirrors and didn’t see you.”

“Yes, well how could you?” The woman brushes dust off her pants, not even bothering to glance Kate’s way. “That boat you’re driving could block the Suez Canal it’s so big.”

Weird reference, but, “Yeah, it’s - it’s for work. I hate it.” She holds the bag out. “Are you okay?”

“I am in one piece,” the stranger states, and then rolls out a shoulder. It cracks. “You did not think to look before backing up?”

“Well, I checked my mirrors,” Kate says again. She did. She definitely did. “I swear I didn’t see you.”

“That is why you look,” she insists. “You have never heard of a blind spot? Or are all spots blind to you?”

“Okay that’s a little rude.”

“You just ran me over!” She aggressively brushes off her jacket, dust motes swirling through the shafts of light. “I could have been child! I could have been cute little puppy dog!”

Which is just outrageous. It’s the middle of the night! It’s not like a kid would be skulking around a parking garage in the middle of the night! And what kind of puppy… no, okay, that one’s fair. A stray dog might’ve run out and Kate would’ve been devastated.

But one didn’t! The only person who got hit was this woman who is, honestly, being a little bit dramatic about the whole thing.

Kate huffs. “Look, the blame isn’t like totally on me here. I mean, what were you doing lurking around right behind my car like that? You didn’t see the brake lights?”

“Me?” The woman whips around, and as soon as she does, Kate regrets saying the words. “You hit me, but this is my fault?”

“No,” Kate rushes to say, “no, of course not. It’s totally on me. I’m so sorry.”

She offers the backpack, and the woman takes it, a bit of the fury snuffing out as her eyes take Kate in, head to toe.

“I’m really sorry,” Kate says again. “Are you - do you need a ride to the hospital? I’m in kind of a rush for work, but there’s one on the way.”

The woman snorts. “You think I would voluntarily get into that car with you? After you literally just ran me over with it?”

Kate shrugs, offering the smoothest smile she’s got. “Hard for me to hit you with the car if you’re inside it?”

The woman just stares at her, gaze taking in every inch of Kate’s face. Then she barks out a laugh. “I must be concussed because I actually found that charming.”

Kate’s gotten worse compliments. “Are you okay though?”

“I will live.” The woman sniffs, pulls her backpack on. “Mostly.”

Kate inches back towards the car door. S.H.I.E.L.D. is waiting, after all. “Do you - I mean, can I maybe make it up to you? Dry clean your coat? Polish your shoes? Buy you a drink?”

The woman tilts her head. She regards Kate with a heavy gaze, some calculation taking place behind her eyes. And it’s a little scary, being on the receiving end of such intense scrutiny. Scary and, if Kate’s being honest, a little thrilling. (Her would-be victim is rather easy on the eyes. Kate’s not mad about looking.)

Finally, the woman smiles. And when she does, it’s wide enough to flash the long fangs of her teeth.

“Yes,” she says, “a drink does sound nice.”

And, “oh,” Kate realizes, “oh, no.”

[wingerwind]

FAMILY! (Insert wild applause. Several people faint in the front seats. Many more are sobbing uncontrollably)

They are finally here! They make me very happy I will never recover if this alliance implodes. (Manifesting Gem or Joel win so hard rn)

After Gem got burned alive, Joel insisted on matching outfits for their theme, probably.

By the way, it’s really hard to come up with simplified designs for burn scars? Like, I’m just sticking little marks everywhere but from a character design perspective that is a nightmare to reproduce numerous times… any ideas of a simpler way to go about it?

Design detail ramblings below:

ALSO Joel’s burn scars were there since Double Life so at this point there’s barely any pain (just small things like tightness around joints. His eyes also can’t close completely). However, Gem, who was very recently dunked in lava, is definitely feeling the effects worse than him. She can’t smile that wide without her skin splitting, same goes for tightening her fists and such. Her eyes are a little squintier now because it hurts to hold them open. She is in constant pain but is powering through it like a champ.

Random note, I think it’s a cool idea that axes begin to look more battleaxe-esque the higher level of sharpness you put on them. For example, Joel is holding an unenchanted diamond axe, which is a pretty standard wood-cutting axe. (Shape-wise, not the diamond part)

I’ve actually seen multiple people do the tank top design idea for these two but I will credit @xmaruu11 because they were my main inspiration. Go check out their Family designs too. They’re so cute…🥹🥹

WAIT I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING Joel, Gem and Etho all have full-body burn scars now!

[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Chapter 2

Description: Ray finds out a little more about the 141’s current situation. You meet Johnny, and see Gaz in the infirmary..

What the fuck were you thinking following the Lieutenant that you barely even knew. You’d crossed paths with him, what, twice? And not even spoken a word to him either time. Christ, Y/n you really are a stupid bitch..

You stomp along behind Ghost for maybe 5 minutes before he rounds a corner and nods at a black, clearly military, jeep.

“Get in, we’re goin’ back to base”

You scowl at his commanding tone, and climb in the passenger seat, dumping your bags in the footwell between your legs and slumping in the seat, sticking to the chairs thanks to the absolutely soaking that the rain had given you.

The Lieutenant starts the engine and bounces it roughly off of the curb he had parked poorly on.

“Jeez Louise, LT.. you’ll give the lassie a concussion if you drive like ‘aht”

The tin of soup is held aloft ready to smash the stranger in the head until the Lieutenant’s huge paw smacks it from your hand.

“He’s friendly, drop your weapon, Ray” he jokes.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you hiding in the back of the car..?” You growl at the Scottish man, you already knew was ‘Soap’, a member of the 141. He didn’t need to know that you knew who he was though, and you could tell it hit him in the ego a bit when you pretended not to recognise him.

He recovers quickly though, you’ll give him that. He smiles brightly “name’s Johnny, or Soap, and I wisnae hiding. LT said you’d be more likely you come if we didn’t go in mob handed, so I stayed behind..”

“I can still open the door and roll myself into traffic.. don’t fuckin’ test me. I’m coming back to check Gaz, then I’m out. I’ve not agreed to anything or signed anything..” you threaten in a deadpan tone.

Soap gulps and his smile fades slightly. “LT, Cap said she was…. awkt, how’d he put it? Aye thats right.. a ray of sunshine.. you sure you got the right one..?”

“I’m sure Johnny. Now shut up. Don’t need her rolling herself into traffic…” the Lieutenant replies to the chatty Scot. You catch his reflection in the wing mirror and can tell that it physically pains the man to actually shut the fuck up. His eyes are dart in from object to object, his mouth dropping open only for his brain to kick in and remind himself to keep quiet.

The rest of the drive is silent. Perfect.

The truck pulls into base, and you aren’t even taken through security which you thought was strange. The Lieutenant lurches to a halt and cranks the handbrake on, climbing from the vehicle. You follow suit, donning your two rucksacks and your ratty plastic bag filled with your shitty groceries and wine.

“Here lass, I’ll get that for you..”

“Touch me, or anything that belongs to me, and you’ll lose your hand, Soap.”

He retracts his hand as if you’d given him an electric shock. The Lieutenant huffs a laugh.

“This way” the Lieutenant grunts. You follow, with soap trailing behind, kicking stones glumly.

You’re led to an office.

‘Captain J.Price’

‘TF-1-4-1’

Here we fuckin’ go you roll your eyes. The door is opened and you step through the threshold.

“Welcome back, Soldier” the Captain speaks, standing to shake your hand. You ignore him and turn away.

“Not coming back, and not a soldier. Just want to check Gaz ain’t dying” you reply stubbornly.

“He’s sitting up and chatting today. Took a fall from a chopper, poor lad. He cheered right up when I told him you were joining the team” - “seems cruel to give him false hope, does it not, Captain?”

“What did my Lieutenant tell you..?”

“Whoa whoa whoa. I’d like to start off by saying, firstly, I don’t appreciate being tracked down. I also don’t appreciate sending your fuckin’ guard dog to break into my flat and come and fetch me, I also don’t appreciate that fact that you’re just assuming I’ll fall back into the obedient soldier role. I’m not even your soldier, never was, Sir” you smile tauntingly.

“Now, you will take me to Gaz, I’ll have a quick chat with him, and I’ll be on my way - I’m not signing up for this shit again..”

You stare down the Captain who remains silent before the Lieutenant speaks up.

“This shit? What, like it’s worse than what you’ve been doing for the past coupla’ years? Your shitty, mouldy flat, getting groped by drunks at the Rose and Thorn, the tackiest pub in the East? Really? Like you’ve got anything whatsoever that’s better than this..” he huffs laughing.

You clench your jaw and try not to snap. Physically or emotionally. He was right. You’d been horrifically depressed for years. Considered ending it all a few times but you were too much of a coward for that.

“I’ll find the infirmary myself, and then see myself out..” you slam the door behind yourself and leave the three men behind.

Thankfully, you find signs for the infirmary and follow them, finding the correct place. The lady behind the front desk glares daggers at you. “Visitor for Kyle Garrick” you say monotonously.

“Room 3, you have ten minutes, he’s already had visiting time for the day” she whips sourly at you.

“Yeah, whatever” you spit back, storming to the correct door.

Kyle practically jumps out of his skin as you crash through the door. “Jeez, Ray.. you scared me half to death” he jokes, laughing.

“You don’t look as bad as I was expecting. They made it sound like you were on deaths door..” - “what? Nah, mate. Just some internal bruising and a chipped bone in my hand..”

“So I didn’t need to visit then?” You remark bluntly. Kyle’s smile drops slightly. “Well, it’s nice to see you.. I mean.. you left.. suddenly?” he tries.

“Yeah, and now your team are trying to get me to come back, using you as leverage. Know anything about that..?” you accuse.

Kyle looks guilty as sin.

He gulps before starting to attempt to explain.

“Well.. Cap’s been trying to get you since I joined. Laswell only gave him clearance to take on one rookie. He noticed your file remember..? And when I mentioned about my wallet.. and then I got hurt.. the plan sort of fell into place. We’d track you down and try and make an offer… we really need someone like you on our team, Ray..”

“Yeah, the wallet was a sneaky fuckin trick, Garrick. Not gonna forgive you for that one. And now that I’ve seen you’re not on death’s door…” you speak as you walk back towards the door.

“Y/n!”

No one calls me by my real name..

“Wait.. please..”

You don’t want to. You want to leave this god forsaken place and not look back. But I hesitate. And that hesitation changes everything..

[afternoondreaming]

No Business Like Show Business (5/?)

Finally! Back to another showing, folks! Things are slowly getting more interesting. What exactly is going on with the strange scenery? Will you figure it out? Will you ever grow used to your boss' antics? Stay tuned to find out! Also, a special thank you to @just-j3ster for the recommendations on tags!

Waving back to your apparently ‘benevolent’ boss, you straightened yourself out before going to greet him. “Hey, Mr. Puzzles!” Your tone was rather chipper despite the long drive, turning to look at the moving truck before returning your gaze to the TV head in front of you. “You sure you wanna help? I could’ve just asked my work friend.” While it was rather kind of him to offer, you wouldn’t want to impose on your newfound superior. 

“Of course!” His voice was sing-songey, screen turning to a joyful yet uncanny face. “I said I would help, and a good mastermind always helps their sidekick.”

“Really? Still on about that ‘sidekick’ thing?” Sighing was all that statement could be met with, turning to walk to the back of the truck as you dangled the keys. “Let’s get to work then, Boss.” Despite the sarcasm dripping from your voice, Mr. Puzzles didn’t seem to notice. Simply following after you, every single step for him being three for you. The bastard really was tall. With a turn of the latch you shoved the door upwards, gazing at all your earthly possessions. “Ready?”

“Surely! Ah- however…” The look on his screen went awkward, turning slightly away from you in what seemed like embarrassment. “While I have moved before, I just…Haven’t helped someone else.” He coughed to cover the last statement up, switching his picture back to normal. “I’m sure it is similar enough, right? Moving couches and getting stuck in tight stairwell corridors having to pivot and all that?”

“Are-… Are you referencing Friends?” Your arms went slack, looking up to him in disbelief. “Are you being serious and referencing Friends?”

“It… Is my main frame of reference.” With how he slouched in disappointment… He must’ve actually been serious. 

“Well, we have one singular loveseat to move, first of all. Not a whole couch.” You pat the man on the back in an awkward attempt at reassurance. “Second of all, you don’t really need a frame of reference for it. You and I are just gonna move furniture and then in the end, I’ll get some takeout to pay you back. Simple.” Without giving him enough time to protest you picked up a box from the moving van, surprising him by suddenly putting it into his arms. “Let’s get to work! We’re losing daylight.”

“Right! Yes-aha! Onwards!” He recovered from the surprise quickly, holding the box strangely in his long arms and making his way towards the stairwell entrance. 

All in all, it would take around three hours to move most of everything from the moving van into your new apartment. And, despite you once asking for the keys and him throwing your whole printer at you, it went well enough! You were on the last of the boxes as your phone began to ring, excusing yourself to answer it as you watched Mr. Puzzles work. 

“Yo yo!” Tori’s voice rang through the other side, bringing a weary smile to your face. “What’s goin’ on? You regret not taking up my offer to help you move now~?”

“Hey, Tori.” You leaned against the side of the truck, grateful for the moment to relax. “It’s been going well enough, so no, I don’t regret it.” Despite the statement your tone was obviously joking. “Besides, I did end up getting help.”

“Really? What, now that you’re a big shot you decided to hire some moving company?”

“No, I didn’t hire anybody…” You were trepidatious about your answer, but didn’t want to lie to your friend. “My boss decided to help…?”

“…Nah you’re lying.” Tori was understandably shocked. “The head of Puzzlevision just… Decided to lend you a hand?”

“Yeah- I mean, I guess?” You watched Mr. Puzzles, currently struggling to find the best way to hold an awkwardly shaped box. “He’s weird but nice enough.”

“But-like-” Your friend stumbled over her words. “He’s the head of the studio! Why does he give a fuck?!”

“Listen, listen” You replied calmly, getting her to quiet down so you could speak. “Things at Puzzlevision are… Weird. Even just here is weird…!” Turning your gaze from your boss to your surroundings, you once again acknowledged the strangeness of the scenery. “Everything is… Color corrected. Saturated. Even how he moves is over exaggerated!” Case in point, the man was over dramatically trying to keep his balance while making sure the box didn’t tumble down the stairs. “It's just really Twilight Zone around here, man. I can’t go into it right now, but…”

“You’re going to have to dish the gossip later, okay?” Tori said assertively, managing to get a chuckle out of you. 

“Okay okay, sure. We’ve still got more to move, so I can’t talk for long.” After all, you didn’t want your new boss moving your things by himself. That would be taking advantage of his kind offer! “I’ll talk to you later, you snoop.” 

With some short goodbyes you hung up, returning to the TV man’s side. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“No need!” He replied, fixing his rolled up sleeves and dusting off his gloves. “This was all quite fun! A true bonding montage between mastermind and minion!” Another one of his dramatic poses were struck, prideful look on his screen.

“Well, it's not over yet! And- yet again- Screenwriter.” You corrected him habitually as you grabbed the last box, pulling down the back door of the moving van and locking the car with a click. “Now’s the time where I pay you back with takeout. Now, ‘you more of a pizza or Chinese food person?’ He’d follow behind as you walked over to the stairwell entrance, trudging back up the stairs for the umpteenth time that day.

“I…” Mr. Puzzles began, that awkward look washing over his screen once more. “Don’t really eat, Starlet.” Oh… Right. He had a TV for a head. Of course he wouldn’t eat. You felt so stupid, finally reaching your apartment door and bumping it open with your hip.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I hadn’t even thought of that… Why didn’t you tell me earlier when I mentioned it!” You dropped the box in the inside hall, groaning as you walked to the loveseat the two of you had moved today and allowing yourself to fall into it.

“Well, I simply didn’t want to rain on a trope!” The man fretted in attempts to console his new sidekick, trying to dismiss it with the wave of his hand. “If it was a veritable tradition, then who am I to deny the audience?!” Who was he to deny the tried and true trope when it worked so well? And, partly, it was selfish. He never had the opportunity to help someone like this before, so the thought of being able to bond with the one who would hopefully turn his ratings around was an enticing thought. After all, loyalty was earned and he had to assure that you wouldn’t be swept away by SMG4 and his group of simpletons when he inevitably came to ruin it all.

“Well I can’t just eat without you, that’s plain rude!” You tossed your arm up in emphasis, letting it fall limply in your own frustrations.

“Not at all! We could do something else if you want to repay me! We could-ah…” Mr. Puzzles looked around before snapping his fingers, coming up with an idea. “We could watch a movie! Aha! Yes, that would be the perfect activity for my newly acquired Starlet Sidekick to partake in with me.”

“...I guess it's thematic.” You replied, sitting up as you looked over to your television set. “I haven’t set up my DVD player or internet, though… I could do it now, I guess.” Shrugging, you got up from your seat, starting to make your way over to the various unpacked boxes.

“Ah, no need for all that! I can play whatever you’d like!” He chirped, happy face flickering onto his monitor.

“...You can play it? Like… On your face?” You weren’t exactly sure what you expected. Logically, it would make sense that a TV could play movies, but… That was his face. “So, what, do I just stare at your face the whole time…? Can you even talk when you’re doing that or am I just basically alone?” Were these questions insensitive? Possibly, though, you couldn’t tell. Luckily, Mr. Puzzles just met your questioning with laughter.

“I suppose you’d be staring at my face, technically. And, no, you wouldn’t be alone~! I can talk through it just fine while I’m playing a feature.” He could sense you were impressed and subsequently got more smug, causing you to roll your eyes. “My precious TV head is much more useful than just displaying my magnetic features~”

“...Uh, yeah, sure, casanova.” You couldn’t possibly roll your eyes any harder at his self aggrandizing antics, but he didn’t seem to care. “Come over here, then.” You waved him over, patting the empty space on the chair and seemingly confusing him.

“Uh, pardon you?” Mr. Puzzles asked, pointing at himself.

“Well, I’m not gonna have you sitting on my coffee table.” Shrugging, you got up and walked over to the kitchen. “Sit down and face where I’ll sit. I’m gonna make some popcorn. You got any movie recommendations?”

You wouldn’t see it, but for a slight moment, a line of bright pink would flicker across the producer’s face for a moment. His plan was to just retract his body into his head and rest on the coffee table, but… You actually just wanted him to sit with you. He’d… happily oblige if it meant earning the loyalty of his new sidekick. He’d take a seat you had assigned him on the small loveseat, fixing his face lest you returned. “Of course I’d have movie recommendations!” He began, glad to focus on it. “I’ve seen everything! We could go strictly classics if you’d prefer: Casablanca, Psycho, The Godfather, Gone with the Wind…” He listed off titles as the sound of popping popcorn lightly rang out from the kitchen, only stopping when you came back with the bowl.

“Let's go with Casablanca, yeah? Been a while since I’ve seen that.” You replied, sitting down cross legged while you situated yourself to lean against the armrest and watch the TV man.

“Ah, you’ve seen it~!” Mr. Puzzles said happily, his head tuning off his face and onto the opening as his hand fiddled with the volume knob. “I knew I made the good choice of hiring someone with taste~! I hope you don’t mind Puzzlevision commentary throughout, then.” He adjusted himself a final time on the couch, resting his head in his hands as he directed it at you.

“As long as you’re correct, it's fine. Hell, I’ll pitch in too when I remember something.” Popping some popcorn in your mouth, you smiled as the familiar intro played. Mr. Puzzles was eccentric, there was no denying that. But, thanks to today, you didn’t find his eccentricities as annoying. “Thanks, again, Mr. Puzzles. For the help.” You kept your voice low so as to not disturb the movie too much, becoming rather transfixed on the screen in front of you. “You’re… Quite welcome.” He replied, similarly quiet. “Oh! Now, you see, they used this shot because…” Mr. Puzzles would ramble on for a while about fun facts, the awkwardness of staring at what was eventually his face fading away when you got engrossed with swapping facts and opinions.

[f1-stuff]

You mentioned omegaverse in the surreal DC reblog where he’s commenting far too much on Charles’s smell lol and it made me wonder if you’ve ever considered writing omegaverse Charlos? Do you have any interest or not so much your thing?

Love your work <33333

Hello! ❤️ I didn't used to be into omegaverse very much tbh, but something clicked in the last couple years and I started to vibe with it a lot more. I actually did start to write an abo charlos fic, that's also a Victorian-era royalty arranged marriage situation (woo that's a mouthful 😂), but I haven't added much to it in a while...

The funny thing is that I find myself forgetting it's abo while writing bc there's so much else going on, and then I have to throw in a line about someone's scent asghfjlslsdk. But anyway, I'm gonna share a little more of it now just because I feel like it's been a while since I posted a fic or a snippet...

“Charles.”

Impatience has crept into his mother’s voice by the second utterance of his name, and yet Charles still takes the time to finish the page he’s reading before clapping the (dreadfully boring) book shut and looking up at her expectantly. As usual, she doesn’t look particularly amused by his stubbornness.

“Charles, I was thinking that perhaps you and I should stay away from the palace for an additional month or so.”

“What?” he frowns. “Why?”

“To rest,” she suggests. “It’s been a very tough week, and you still don’t look well-”

“Maman,” he sighs, rubbing his temple where a headache is starting to form. Of course, he won’t tell her that. “I feel fine. And I’m ready to go home. We already missed Uncle’s birthday. We are not missing Papa’s.”

His mother doesn’t reply. It’s not the first time she’s brought it up, and it won’t be the last, but Charles isn’t losing this particular argument. Not even if he has to escape back to the palace himself. A week away from his father in his poor condition is already too much to bear, let alone the prospect of more time apart.

Charles and his mother’s retreat to their country residence had been unavoidable. The ‘very tough week’ in question is Charles’ heat, which had been brought on early due to the stress he's been under, caused by his numerous advisors' renewed efforts as of late to convince him to sign the regency order. No doubt they’ll be hoping that now, weakened by five days of fever and delirium, he’ll feel further compelled to relinquish his power to a regent in the event of his father’s death before he’s come of age.

It’s never going to happen, and his mother doesn’t need to try to protect him by hiding him away for a month either. She, along with everyone in that damned palace, treats him delicately enough as it is. Ever since he’d presented around eleven years old, he’s been wrapped in cotton wool. But just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean he isn’t perfectly capable of standing up for himself. In fact, he can’t wait to be free of the silly protective measures that were put in place almost seven years ago. The moment he’s crowned, he’s doing away with all of it.

“Really, Charles. I hope you’re not upset we had to come here. You know that it’s for your own safety-”

“Yes, maman, I know,” he interrupts, then sighs and aims a small smile her way to soften his exasperated tone. “I’m not arguing that. But I don’t need any more time to recover. It isn’t as though I do much more than this in the palace, anyway.”

Reading books, painting, playing piano and chess - there isn’t much more that he’s allowed to do. The other activities that his brothers partake in, like horse riding and archery, aren’t permitted for him, nevermind that he performed them just fine before he’d presented. That argument has never worked to convince anyone to grant him allowances because it’s not really about whether he’s capable.

“Well...if you’re certain.”

“I am,” he says, firmly. His mother nods.

Good. That’s settled, then. She speaks again before he has a chance to reopen his book.

“The other thing I’ve been meaning to discuss with you - your uncle has invited the Sainz siblings to come and stay at the palace. You met their two eldest when you were very young, but I’m sure you don’t remember.”

“No,” Charles confirms, intrigued. “Who are they?”

“Their father is a Spanish duke, and his son, Prince Carlos, is just a few years older than you. Unlikely that he will ever inherit the throne, but it is a distant possibility.”

Ah. So a marriage prospect, then. Charles bites back a sigh. From one prison to another.

“You should get to know him better,” his mother says, reading his expression.

“Why?” he asks, just to be difficult. He knows very well why.

“Because. Your Uncle Thierry thinks it’s a good idea.”

Well, if his uncle thinks it, then so it shall be.

Charles sinks further into his chair, grabbing the book he’d set aside and reopening it pointedly. His mother takes the hint. (The book may be a dull one, but at least it serves its purpose as a conversation ender superbly.)

****

“Monaco could be a very important chess piece in future conflicts,” Caco explains, leaning against the table to address his young cousin. “It is under the military protection of France, and having the force of France at our disposal could be instrumental in quelling potential unrest.”

Carlos Junior looks up at him from his seat at the desk, notes of skepticism in his expression. He doesn’t make an objection just yet - his cousin would not be telling him this unless it had come from his father directly.

Caco sets down a piece of paper in front of him. It’s a drawing of a young man who can’t be more than eighteen, his boyish features evident even in sketch form. The other thing that is undeniable is his beauty, a sense of mischief and innocence dancing in his eyes that has Carlos wondering if it’s a faithful representation.

“Is he this pretty in person?”

Caco simply gives him a look, not dignifying that with a response. “That is Prince Charles, heir apparent to the Monegasco throne, seventeen years old. In the next few weeks, you will study everything there is to know about him - his favorite novels, plays, composers. You will brush up on your French-”

“Wait, wait, cousin,” Carlos interjects, blinking in confusion. “What does a prince have to do with me?”

“That omega...” Carlos’ gaze shoots up to his cousin, brows raising. “...has everything to do with you.”

Ah. That changes things, indeed.

“As I was saying,” Caco continues, sighing. “In order to keep the prince safe, he’s been kept sheltered from his father’s court for years, ever since he was a boy. Thus, when he does make a rare public appearance, such as at the opera or ballet, his mere presence causes quite a stir.”

Carlos’ eyes return to the paper in front of him, his gaze tracing a path over the prince’s nose and settling at the elegant curve of his lips.

“You must win his favor before anyone else has the chance,” his cousin says. “The first visit in a few weeks’ time will be vital. We can afford no mistakes. But always remember, you are first and foremost a Sainz. Do not forget the reason behind all of this, no matter how ‘pretty’ his face.”

Carlos tries to bite back his smirk, but likely fails from the look his cousin sends him.

“Charm him, Carlos. Make him smile. God knows you are good at that. The rest will be up to fate.”

[kangshxrtie]

51 . yn protection squad

prev . main

you were just minding your own business, sitting outside the classroom, waiting for nien, kaede, and chaeyeon to finish up. your phone was keeping you company, scrolling through whatever came up on your feed, when you suddenly heard footsteps slow down beside you. instinctively, you kept your eyes on your phone, hoping it wasn’t who you thought it was.

but, of course, life never worked out that easily.

“yn,” nakyoung’s voice came from above you, soft but filled with an annoying persistence. “we need to talk.”

"hey," she repeated as she approached, her voice slightly breathless as if she had rushed over the moment she saw you. you didn't bother looking up, pretending to be deeply engrossed in whatever was on your screen.

you sighed but didn’t look up. maybe if you just kept scrolling, she’d take the hint and leave. it wasn’t like she could force you into a conversation, right?

"yn, can we talk for a second?" she pressed, standing right in front of you now.

you sighed, locking your phone and finally glancing up at her. "what do you want, nakyoung?"

she gave you that familiar look, the one that had always made you weak before, but now it only reminded you of how much she'd hurt you. "i just... i wanted to talk. you haven’t been responding to my texts."

"there’s nothing to talk about," you muttered, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. you couldn’t let her get to you again. not when you were finally in a good place with xinyu. things had started to feel real, and the last thing you needed was nakyoung trying to mess it all up.

nakyoung shifted her stance, crossing her arms in frustration. "you can’t just ignore me forever, yn. we need to talk about us."

you sighed, "there is no us, nakyoung. i keep telling you, i won't break up with xinyu."

she rolled her eyes as if you hadn’t just said you were in a relationship. "come on, yn. we both know that you’re just doing that to make me jealous. you don’t actually like her."

your patience was running thin. "no, nakyoung. i'm dating xinyu because i want to be with her. i'm not doing this for you."

nakyoung frowned, clearly not liking your response. "i know you, yn. this thing with xinyu is not right, especially because you told me you hated her and would never speak to her again. it's not too late for us to go back to how things were."

you stood up, putting your phone in your pocket. "nakyoung, you need to stop. i’m not going back to you. ever. you hurt me, and i’m happy with xinyu. so please, just leave me alone."

her expression faltered for a second, but she quickly recovered, taking a step closer. "you don’t mean that. you’re just mad at me."

you tried to keep your voice steady. "no, nakyoung, i mean every word. i don’t plan on leaving xinyu anytime soon, so just… move on... again."

before nakyoung could respond, the door to the lecture hall swung open, and nien, kaede, and chaeyeon emerged from their class. the three of them spotted you instantly, and it didn’t take long for them to notice nakyoung standing uncomfortably close to you.

"yn!" nien called out, her voice immediately cutting through the tension. her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene.

kaede’s face darkened when she saw nakyoung. "fuck are you doing here?" she asked, already walking over to stand next to you.

chaeyeon seemed unsure at first but quickly made her way over as well. "valid question, cause i sure as hell didn't invite her."

nakyoung crossed her arms defensively. "i was just talking to yn."

"about what?" nien asked, her tone cold.

"none of your business," nakyoung shot back, her voice sharper now.

kaede scoffed, stepping in front of you like a human shield. "it actually is our business. especially when you’re basically harassing yn."

nakyoung’s jaw tightened. "i’m not harassing her. i just wanted to talk."

"well, she doesn’t want to talk to you," nien interjected, crossing her arms. "she’s made that pretty clear, hasn’t she?"

nakyoung turned to chaeyeon, hoping for some backup. "chaeyeon, come on. you know yn and i were good together. can’t you talk some sense into them?"

chaeyeon frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. "nakyoung… i think it’s time to let this go."

nakyoung’s face dropped as if she hadn’t expected chaeyeon to take your side. she opened her mouth to argue, but kaede cut her off.

"seriously, nakyoung," kaede said, her voice firm. "we used to be friends so i know you understand the concept of leaving somebody alone."

"exactly," nien added. "we’re not letting you ruin things for her again."

nakyoung looked at you one last time, her expression torn between anger and frustration. "fine," she muttered under her breath before turning on her heel and walking away without another word.

you exhaled, feeling the tension finally leave your body as she disappeared down the hallway.

"are you okay?" nien asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"yeah," you replied, though your voice was still a bit shaky. "thanks for stepping in. she just… doesn't get that i don't want her anymore."

kaede rolled her eyes. "she’s delusional if she thinks you’re going back to her after everything she put you through."

chaeyeon gave you a sympathetic smile. "i’m sorry it had to go down like that, yn. i didn’t think nakyoung would push it this far."

"it’s not your fault," you said quickly. "i just… i’m glad you guys showed up when you did."

"we’re always gonna have your back," nien said with a grin. "yn protection squad for life."

you laughed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "real ones. i just hope she'll stop after this."

"she better," kaede muttered, glancing down the hall where nakyoung had disappeared. "otherwise, next time, i’m actually gonna have to start biting bitches."

main . nxt

taglist ༒ @gtfoiydlyj @inybits @baewonlove @yeetaberry127 @sananapotter @happyjuhyun @nicstumblur @museujin @urmom2314 @yunalvrrr @jeindall777 @saysirhc @idleyuri @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @artrizzler19 @peranoo

[featherlovesrobots]

These are all spectacular but I absolutely had to write something for the second prompt :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Healer sighs, tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I was expecting a ‘thank you.’”

Teammate gave her the blanket soon after the spell was over. It doesn’t help her trembling much, but she clings to it. She looks so small, sitting there on Teammate’s hospital bed, one hand pressed to the mattress to keep herself upright. The sight of it turns Teammate’s stomach.

“This is why I hate it when Leader lets you use your powers!” Snaps Teammate, throwing out her hands. “You could’ve really hurt yourself— you did hurt yourself!”

“Listen, I’m sorry I scared you. But it couldn’t have been avoided without sacrificing you, and it’s not like it’ll leave a lasting effect. I’ll recover in a week, probably.”

Teammate laughs bitterly. “Only a whole week without any healing magic. What a blessing.”

“You were going to die!” Healer cries. “I’m glad you feel fine now, but you should’ve seen yourself! You wouldn’t wake up, you were shaking, I— I had to do something—”

“Okay, fine, but why do you always have to be such a perfectionist?!”

“I am not a perfectionist,” Healer growls. “I can’t control it.”

Teammate scoffs. “Sure, you say that, but have you ever actually tried to improve at rationing?” She gestures to her middle, emphasizing the clear skin under a torn, bloody shirt. “You could at least make some kind of effort to leave a scar.”

“Ugh. Not this again,” Healer mutters, lifting a trembling hand to pull at the blanket again. “For the last time, I can’t just not heal you because you’re worried about your image.”

“It’s not about our image, Healer. It’s about you. If the public knew we had a magic-user on our side—”

Healer tenses, springing to her feet and stomping towards Teammate. The blanket around her shoulders falls forsaken to the floor. “YOU SOUND JUST LIKE LEADER! CAN’T YOU JUst–” Healer’s breath rushes out and she keels forward. Teammate rushes to catch her by the shoulders. “Healer? Healer! Hey, stay with me, alright?”

Healer tries to speak, but it comes out as a shaky wheeze. Teammate slides her hand down to Healer's upper arm, eyes widening at the feel of her skin. “You’re frigid,” she breathes. “You need another blanket.” She guides her back to the bed and sets her down. “Don’t move.”

“No,” Healer chokes out. She grabs onto Teammate’s sleeve and tugs. “You’ll… be seen.”

Teammate sighs. Healer is right — it’s a public hospital, and fifteen minutes ago she had severe blood loss and internal damage. She can’t get caught walking around like normal. Still, Healer’s skin feels like ice; like every ounce of warmth was sapped from her blood when she did that cursed spell. There has to be something Teammate can do.

“Okay, here,” Teammate says, lifting the blanket and settling next to Healer, then pulling the fabric around both of them. “Maybe this’ll help.”

Healer chases Teammate’s warmth, leaning into her chest and setting her head in the crook of her neck. Teammate tentatively moves her arm to circle around Healer’s waist, careful not to put down any pressure.

“I’ll tell Leader I’m okay when she comes back,” Teammate promises. Okay?”

“… Yeah.”

“She’ll give you a well-deserved earful for this.”

Healer huffs a chuckle. “Because I really needed another one.”

Hospital whump where everyone is really injured, including the character with healing magic, but they still pull out their IVs and sneak out of their room to pay everyone a visit and heal them, one by one.

Do they get caught? If they do, how long does it take? How far do they get? Do they get caught right before being able to visit the last person, the one they're the most worried about?

While they're searching the hospital for everyone's rooms, do they get sidetracked? Do they stumble into rooms of people they don't know? Sick or hurt strangers they can't help but heal too? Do they end up spending every drop of energy they have because they can't stand seeing so many people suffering? Or do they turn away, apologetic but knowing they need to stay focused, there are only so many people they can help and they know where their priorities lie?

I don't know I just think there's some potential here

there is totally potential, this is a great scenario!!

maybe they get to the last room and heal their friend, but collapse immediately after. friend wakes up startled, then terrified when they see healer on the ground collapsed, then anger at them for putting themselves last when they realize that their wounds are gone.

i love what you're doing here. unfocused, nonspecific healing that they can't control is a great trope, especially when it means that they exhaust themselves by accidentally healing something or someone that shouldn't be healed. their teammate is angry that the healer heals them all the way back to normal rather than just getting them out of the woods. like was it worth all your energy to make sure you healed every last bruise or scrape??

if they don't heal the team to conserve their magic, maybe their friends don't know that healing takes energy and don't understand why they're just not helping. and/or maybe they're up all night with guilt, so when their teammate gets up for a sip of water because they got that Night Thirst(TM), they're very concerned and upset that the healer isn't sleeping. maybe they're conserving magic energy, but they're certainly not preserving regular energy.

this prompt watered my crops!!

[vodika-vibes]

Hard Times

Summary: You’ve been hiding your problems from Jesse, he has so many things to worry about already and you don’t want to add to his problems. Only, he’s coming home and you’re not sure you can hide this from him.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Jesse x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1266

Warnings: Nightmares, Reader is having prophetic dreams about order 66

A/N: Do I have over 80 requests sitting in my inbox? Yes, yes I do. Did I want to write this instead? Yes, yes I did. Anyway, happy reading!

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You’re glad Jesse is home.

Sure, he has a few more scars than he did when he left. And sure, his armor is a little more dinged up, a little more worn in some places, but he’s here and he’s alive and you’re so happy about it that you cried when you saw him.

His first day back is always a little strained. 

It takes time for him to decompress from being on the ship, but a good meal and a hot shower do wonders. Plus, he can pull you in for a hug or a kiss, and every time he does you can feel the tension draining from his body.

And when he lays next to you in bed, his arms secure around you and his face pressed into your hair, he falls asleep in a matter of moments. 

You wonder if it makes you a horrible person that you resent him for that, a little.

You haven’t had a good night's sleep in weeks. Your nights are haunted by blood and screams and a cold that lingers even when you jolt awake from your nightmares. And, even after you wake up, your hands tremble for hours after the fact, and some nights you even have to throw up, the dreams are so bad.

So that’s where you find yourself. Safely wrapped in Jesse’s arms, eyes burning from how tired you are, and exhausted down to your bones. But too afraid of your dreams to actually fall asleep.

Honestly, you're surprised that he didn’t clock your exhaustion when he showed up this morning. Everyone else in your life has.

He’ll notice in the morning, you know. Jesse is stupidly observant when he’s not recovering from a long deployment. 

Jesse sighs in his sleep, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you closer. Almost as if you’re a beloved teddy bear. You turn your head to watch him sleep for a moment. 

He looks peaceful. Untroubled. As if the stress of his life doesn’t exist now that he’s here, in your bed. 

You have to fight the urge to brush your fingers across his cheek. Even a light touch will be enough to wake him up, and that’s the last thing you want right now.

How could you be afraid of anything with Jesse right here?

And slowly, without your permission, your eyes flutter closed as sleep claims you.

Cold. It’s so cold.

Lights dim, and then go out completely, drowning you in a sea of frigid darkness. Only a few dim lights remain, but they’re so far away. Too far away.

The more the lights go out, the colder it gets.

Is this how it ends? Is this how everything ends—

“Cyare! Wake up”

Your eyes snap out, and it takes you a moment to realize that you’re still safely in bed. Jesse’s hands are on your shoulders, and he looks worried, though the expression fades as your gaze meets his.

“Jess—” You’re trembling from the cold, it feels as if someone shoved ice into your bloodstream.

“You were having a nightmare,” He grabs a fleece from the end of the bed and drapes it over you, it won’t help. You know from experience, “Your temperature just dropped, are you okay?”

His hand presses against your cheek, and he frowns before he leans to the side table and grabs his comm, “I’m calling Kix. You’re like ice.”

“I’m okay,” Your tongue feels heavy and clumsy, “I’ll be alright when the sun rises.”

Jesse stares at you, unimpressed, “Yeah. No. I’m calling Kix.”

You sigh, and your gaze flickers to the chrono next to the bed. Four hours. You’ve only slept for four hours. Jesse moves out from under the covers, and you watch as he slips into the fresher, still listening to his brother. 

He returns with a thermometer and passes it to you.

You already know what it’s going to say, but you stick the small device under your tongue anyway. Your temperature is going to be edging towards hypothermic, but not so low that you’re actually in danger.

At least, that was what Spoogle told you when you started having these nightmares.

It beeps and you hand it back to Jesse, who dutifully reports the number to his brother. Whatever Kix says clearly bothers Jesse, based on the way his eyes narrow at you, and then he hangs up the comm.

“Jesse?”

“Kix says to get you into a warm shower. Not hot, but warm.”

“Jesse, I’m fine.”

He takes your hands, pulls you out of the bed, and tugs you towards the fresher, “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Kix is on his way right now.”

“It was just a nightmare, Jesse. Really, I’ve been dealing with this for a month now.” 

His hands pause from where they’re tugging your sleep shirt off, and he pins you in place with a disappointed look, “Your temperature has been dropping like this every night for a month? And you didn’t see a doctor?”

“I…well…Spoogle said—”

He sighs and turns to start the water, “Babe, I love you but you’re such a dingbat sometimes.”

“Hey!”

“Your lips are blue.” He counters flatly, and then he turns and lifts you into the shower. The warm water burns against your icy skin, and you flinch out of the way.

Jesse’s frown deepens, and he turns the temperature down a little, “How’s that?”

Hesitantly you hold your arm under the water, and when the water doesn’t burn like fire, you step under the spray of water fully. “It’s better,” You admit, as the shivering starts to slowly subside.

“Good.” He scans you for a moment, “So, these nightmares. What are they about?” Jesse asks as he props open the fresher door so he’ll be able to hear the doorbell when Kix arrives.

You shrug and fold your legs to sit on the floor of the shower. You’re too tired to stand, “I don’t remember the details. Just the cold, and the blood. And the dark.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You’re quiet for a moment, and then you sigh, “You’re fighting a war, Jesse. I didn’t want to distract you.”

He sighs as well and crouches next to the tub, his hand coming out to press against your now-soaked hair, “I’d like it if you told me these things, cyare. We’re supposed to be partners.”

“Sorry.”

“I forgive you.” His hand moves to cup your cheek.

“...I should get out of the shower before Kix gets here.”

“No.”

“...but I’m naked?”

Jesse huffs out a laugh, “It’s Kix, and he’s coming here in his capacity as a medic. I don’t think he’ll care that you’re naked.”

“Oh.”

Something softens on his face, “If it bothers you, though, then we can get you dressed before he gets here.”

You pause and then nod slowly, “I’d prefer that.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” His hand is still so gentle against you, that you sigh and lean into his touch.

“Love you, Jesse.”

“I know, cyare. I love you too.” He runs his thumb across your lips, “The fact that you’re sick is probably why you’re having these nightmares. Kix will help.”

“...yeah.”

You know, somehow, that the dreams are warnings. But how are you supposed to say that? You’re no Jedi. You are just some lady from the lower levels who works as a translator. 

Maybe he’s right, though. Maybe your dreams aren’t a warning of something to come. But, if they get much worse, maybe you’ll ask Jesse to bring you to the temple.

Just in case.

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[cynical-cemeteries]

WAITTTTT I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING AND NEEDED TO SHARE

okay so brandon’s trailer got released about a year ago right?? and his letter to raligon dropped the day after?? walk with me now

if raligon is supposed to be coming at the start of august, we should be hearing about his release and skill set near the end of this month……which is july……which also happens to be a year later……

and remember raligon’s letter to brandon at the end of our recent stream??

now imagine if they drop raligon’s trailer and his letter to brandon a year after??????