#it was a slightly disappointing ending (last 5 minutes more or less) but not worth the massive outrage

[thefirstknife]

The destiny reddit is an absolute warzone right now. Do yourself a favor and avoid it like the plague

Oh no. I saw a lot of negative comments overall and while I understand where they're coming from, I think at some point, some people should calm down.

I mentioned some of the issues I had with the campaign and I stand by them, I think some of this stuff definitely felt rushed and that we're sorely lacking basic information to understand the plot. But I can get over that if it's fairly reasonable to believe we'll find out eventually (and it is) and if the rest is solid. And to me, the rest is solid.

I know people have issues with strand taking too much time from the campaign, and I get it. But also to me, strand being such a huge part of the story made the campaign feel more personal and invested for US, the Guardian. To me, that was the point. I do wish the campaign was a bit more expansive, perhaps another mission or two would've been perfect imo. An extra mission could've delved into the history of the Veil and what it means. It's a legitimate complaint that I share, but also some people online have been expressing it... rather explosively.

I'd also add a counter to my own complaint; when it comes to the plot about the Veil and the Witness and the Traveler, it's clear that this isn't the end; it's a setup. Everything that happened here we can learn about retroactively in a month or six months or a year. It may suck because it's content for THIS expansion so we want to know now, but it CAN be explained later.

But strand? Strand can't. We have to learn it NOW. We can't get strand and then have a really cool personal discovery quest about mastering it in a month or six or a year. So if they didn't have time to fit another two missions into the campaign, it's fairly obvious what is being cut.

Is it clumsy? Yeah, definitely. I definitely feel like some crucial information has been deliberately cut away and removed, possibly waiting to be delivered during the year to prepare us for The Final Shape. I'm not a fan of that method, I would prefer a solid chunk of lore about the current story to be delivered in the current story. If anything, then for clarity. Especially because the majority of the players will not be waiting around to read 15 lore tabs during the year to figure out what's the Veil. A major expansion should be self-contained.

But for the love of god, some of what I've seen online is basically some players acting like we have E.T. (1982) on our hands. Like, I agree that there's issues and I've spoken about them and I can do it again at any point, but at the end of the day, I had fun and the good stuff was good. Literally my only true complaint is that it feels like a mission or two are missing. Pretty much every problem I have would've been solved with that. But that's an unknown amount of extra time of work so I cannot make a comment whether they could've done that or not. I will assume they couldn't so they didn't. Generally don't like assuming that they did it maliciously because then we go into dev harrassment territory.

[neymape]

Clippers may send Wall away to chase Conley

The Los Angeles Clippers are undoubtedly one of the most disappointing teams this season. Before the start of the season, they were regarded as favorites for the championship. They have only achieved a record of 23 wins and 22 losses, ranking sixth in the West. In addition, the Clippers' record against slightly stronger teams this season is even worse. So far, only 3 victories have been won against teams with a winning percentage of more than 50%. One of the toughest schedules in the league makes their prospects even less optimistic.

In this case, in addition to expecting the players to improve their performance, the Clippers undoubtedly need to rely on the transfer market. According to reporter Mark Stein, the Clippers are currently seeking to get an inside big player to serve as Zubac's substitute.

So far this season, Zubac has played the best season of his career, averaging 10.1 points and 10.3 rebounds per game, and even played a dominant performance of 31 points and 29 rebounds in a single game, but the consumption of Zubac by the Clippers, It is also the highest year in the past few seasons. He is currently averaging 29.1 minutes of playing time per game. Although Zubac has worked hard and performed well during these times, as a traditional center, Zubac Ci also has many flaws in such an era, such as his inability to help his teammates open up space on the field, such as his slow pace and easy training by the opponent's defenders.

캡주소 pointed out that when Zubac is off the court, the Clippers will use Covington, Batum, and Morris as centers for most of the season and switch to a small lineup, but the biggest problem with the small lineup is that they need to Huge physical consumption, that is, small lineups often cannot be used for too long, which means that the Clippers need to play not only small lineups but also big lineups after Zubac is off the field. In the past few games, Tyronn Lue consciously arranged for Moses Brown to play more to solve this problem, but as a player with a two-way contract, Brown's overall ability is relatively limited. His offensive finishing is relatively average, and his inside defense is also relatively average. Therefore, the Clippers need a really suitable inside big man to complement Zubac.

Judging from the current staffing of the Clippers inside, they undoubtedly need an insider with strong impact and outside shooting. Previously, the Clippers and Pacers center Turner had been linked together, but with the latter this season With the Pacers playing better and better, the possibility of Turner leaving Indiana has become increasingly low, and the Clippers need to actively look for other suitable candidates.

In addition to the need to reinforce the No. 5 position, the Clippers are also trying to get a reliable No. 1 position in the upcoming trade deadline. This is also one of the problems of the Clippers this season. Regarding the interest in Jazz guard Mike Conley, it is worth mentioning that the Clippers had an interest in the 35-year-old point guard before acquiring Wall last summer, but in the end they did not manage to trade for Conley. This season, Conley averaged 10.3 points and 7.5 assists per game with the Jazz, and the 7.5 assists temporarily set a new high in Conley's career. As a point guard with a very stable career, Conley is undoubtedly very suitable for this Clippers team. Especially compared to the current No. 1 of the Clippers, Reggie Jackson and John Wall, Conley is obviously a better choice. Compared with Reggie, Conley is more stable. Compared with Wall, Conley may not be so good Passing skills and passing vision, but Conley's stable outside shooting is unmatched by Wall, which directly determines the influence of the two on the offensive end.

However, in order to trade Conley, the Clippers also need to face challenges. Conley's contract with the Jazz will expire next year, and his contract for next season will still have more than 14 million fully guaranteed, which means that the Jazz will not easily Sending Conley away, they will definitely ask for draft picks, and the Clippers are currently able to trade draft picks until 2028. At that time, everything about the Clippers may be fundamentally different from what it is now. Therefore, the Clippers general manager headed by Frank Whether the team is willing to do this is a big question mark. At the same time, since Conley's annual salary this season is as high as 22 million, it is not easy for the Clippers to match this contract.

In addition, Charagne also reported that in the potential deal of the Clippers, Wall has become a player who can be sent away. During the offseason last year, the Clippers gave Wall a 2-year $12.3 million contract. They expect Wall to solve the problem of lack of organizational ability in the Clippers' No. 1 position for many years. However, due to the impact of serious injuries in previous years and the increase in age, Wall's explosive power and speed are now greatly reduced compared with those at his peak. This caused a serious decline in his game efficiency. Without any shooting threats, Wall was unable to display his ability to combine breakthrough and passing. So far this season, many of his statistics are the lowest in his career or the top 2 rookies With the deepening of the season, Wall has been unable to meet the initial requirements of the Clippers. To make matters worse, in the previous game against the Nuggets, Wall suffered an abdominal injury, which made him absent for 2 weeks. , In these two weeks, the Clippers, who are somewhat disappointed with Wall's performance, will send him away.

As of now, the performance of the Clippers is undoubtedly unsatisfactory, but their season is still not over. In the past 7 games, the team's top star Kawhi Leonard has shown an excellent competitive state. Can get 24.6 points, 6.6 rebounds and 4 assists in average, shooting 51% from the field, 40% from the three-point range, and 90% from the free throw. There is no doubt that appropriate adjustments need to be made. Obviously, in the positions of No. 1 and No. 5, the speedboat urgently needs reinforcement.

[sleephyjhs]

When You’re Expecting (Taehyung Headcanon)

pairing: taehyung x pregnant!reader

warnings: mention of fertility & pregnancy complications

note: i’ve been craving to write a bts x pregnancy series for a while so here we go !! if there��s a specific member you’d like to see next, shoot me an ask :)

m.list

FINDING OUT

even before finding out you were pregnant, you both had so much love for your child

there was nothing either of you could have wanted more than a baby

it was always at the forefront of your mind how much you wanted a little human of your own

it was approaching a year since you began trying seriously

a few false hopes and two miscarriages later, fertility drugs were looking to improve the chances of conceiving

the raging hormones which came with the drugs were all worth the positive test

early september - sickness had hung around your throat for days

headaches lasted longer than usual, and crying at the most mundane things had become an unwelcome habit

in the bathroom cabinet, you’d collected a small stockpile of electronic and stick pregnancy tests

one of them would eventually show positive, right?

taehyung sat on the bathroom tiles with you

waiting two minutes felt closer to waiting two months

he crossed his legs, bouncing his knees impatiently

your knees came to your chin; high hopes weighed heavily on your heart

the alarm set on his phone beeped quietly

your heartbeat rose suddenly to your throat

taehyung reached out for your hand as you turned to read the results

two blue lines - as clear as day

they became less clear as your eyes coated with thick, salty tears

he began to chuckle as his happiness trickled down his cheeks

“we did it baby! we’re gonna have a baby!” he whispered, choked up by his own anticipation

no words were left swirling in your mind

your jaw hung open as though the hinges were faulty

shakily, you lifted the electronic test to triple check

pregnant.

as you crashed into taehyung’s open arms, memories of the past loomed in your mind

it was only inevitable

a positive test was a familiar joy to you both

however this familiar joy had only ever been followed by crippling devastation

as much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t help but retain maternal caution

however, this time also felt different

taehyung’s spirit, your spirit - it was as though fate didn’t want to disappoint you any more

someone out there decided it was finally your time to grow a mini human to bring into the world

of course, no time was wasted in contacting the maternity clinic

seeing your baby on a screen was now a top priority

just to see their little head, maybe even hear their heartbeat

just to know they were okay

just to know you were keeping them cosy and safe, that’s all you needed

taehyung couldn’t hold his excitement

from leaving the house to reaching the hospital, his toothy grin never wiped from his cheeks

he never said anything at the time since his main focus was always on comforting you

but losing his babies near enough tore him apart

even when you tried to comfort him, taehyung restricted himself just to protect your wellbeing

of course, the worse had already crossed his mind

but it wouldn’t get the better of him

it couldn’t.

you soon learned you were already 6 weeks pregnant

the midwife had to point out where your little baby was hanging out; they were such a tiny thing after all

briefly, you took the opportunity to hear their heartbeat

it was faint over the machine, but fast

there really was a life within you.

“there’s something else, if you just look over here...” the midwife prompted, turning the monitor so you could grasp a better view

taehyung leaned slightly over your chest to peer closely at the smaller monochrome screen

with the mouse, she circled a second bean shaped figure

“the fertility drugs increase the chance of twins. looks like you guys got lucky!”

twins. you were having twins.

THE PREGNANCY

like with most pregnancies, you were advised to wait until the 12 week milestone to begin announcing your impending delivery

and even though he understood the importance of patience right now, taehyung could hardly contain his excitement

it didn’t help that a little bump had already begun to grow

keeping a secret was much more difficult when the evidence was near impossible to hide

already, taehyung spent early mornings talking to his little angels

telling them stories he seemingly made up on the spot

or even borrowing some from his own childhood

“you know they can’t hear you yet? it’s about 7 weeks until they’ll be able to, honey.”

“i know, i’m just practising for when they can.”

of course, you wouldn’t admit that you did the same when you were alone

you attended more midwife appointments than other expectant mothers might

the pair of you much preferred being on the safer side

in the car, when on a quieter, less congested road, taehyung often reached over to cradle your still-growing bump with a free hand

you slotted your fingertips between his for additional sappiness

“you two have so many people waiting for you here, hmm? many people are already so in love with you both. me and mummy included.”

on a sleepless night, you’d made a small pact with tae

it was a rash decision, but sincere nonetheless

“no matter what, they are always going to know how wanted they were. always.”

taehyung hardly needed reminding of this, but it was still a weight off your shoulders

as you tried to conceive, the pregnancy diet had already been implemented into your daily routines

however now that you were carrying two precious babies, there really would be no more ‘cheat’ days for you

no more extra half cups of coffee on slower mornings

although you usually took over the role of head chef in the house, taehyung dedicated extra effort into preparing you both healthy and yummy foods

sautéd rice with green vegetables and lean meat/tofu appeared to be his go-to

but you still opted to supervise just in case

finally being able to announce your pregnancy was another heavy weight lifted from your mind

the other members were over the moon for you both

particularly when they reminded themselves of the struggles you had experienced previously

and also remembering the utter devastation of their taehyung when he had to break it to them

all of them kept their eye out for little gifts and outfits

each week, taehyung came home with a new stack of pale rompers or neutral-tones teething toys

these babies would have the best uncles; at least that much you could be certain of

announcing your pregnancy on social media was a looming task, but one he was determined to pull off perfectly

for filler content between schedules, the members had been asked to film a 5 minute vlog of their daily life

well, what a perfect opportunity!

towards the end, taehyung made sure to include some shots of your now protruding bump overlaid with some more vintage camera settings

safe to say, that day you had broken the internet

love, congratulations and blessings poured in from every corner of the earth

a few comments complimenting how much pregnancy suited you touched you especially

self image is commonly effected by the progression of pregnancy, and you were no exception to that

although it was amazing how your body grew and made a little home for your tiny babies, it was still quite strange to see yourself changing so quickly

your favourite clothes didn’t fit around your doubled bump anymore

and your skin seemed to hate sharing nutrients with two extra people

but for the days where you struggled to love yourself, taehyung easily filled in the gaps for you

sneaking up behind you in the bathroom

(although the mirror kinda gave him away)

he’d wrap his arms around your just-moisturised bump and carefully rest his chin on your shoulder

“tell me all your worries honey.”

you gushed over how much you missed wearing your favourite jackets

and how strange it was to look at yourself in such a new and confusing way

“i know it’s normal, and i know i have to do it for them. but i guess it’s just weird - i don’t look like myself anymore”

he sighed and planted a kiss on a spot of bare skin

those small kisses still tickled you like they always had

“well, you definitely look different,”

you really hoped there was a second part to that sentence, mostly for tae’s own good

“but why does that have to be bad? not gonna lie, it actually kinda makes you hotter. maybe we should make babies more often!”

“make~?”

LABOUR AND DELIVERY

originally, you had wanted to try and stick to the natural route for as long as you could

but after a few contractions, that idea was immediately out of the window

to help steady yourself and wait out the pain, you held onto the kitchen island and swayed to your own pace

eventually, taehyung joined you

copying the same movements while timing your contractions

“they really must be desperate to come out, huh?”

“well do you think they could hurry it up a bit?!”

the pair of you had been prepared for this for over a month

the hospital bag was ready by the door with all of your essentials packed tightly inside

not forgetting the pots of instant ramen taehyung insisted he must bring in case of an emergency

just as he was readying to back out of the driveway, taehyung took a mental stock check of everything packed in the back

“do you think we have everything?”

“i love you but stop talking please.”

thankfully, he understood well that the sheer pain made you cranky

so long as he assured himself that it was ‘just the contractions’, he’d be just fine

as much as he couldn’t wait to announce he was about to become a father to everyone, he kept himself grounded when walking you to the maternity ward

one corridor in and you’d suggested that a wheelchair might be a better mode of transport

breathlessness and contractions didn’t sound like a favourable mix to you

the assessment of your fast dilation granted you an immediate spot in the labour ward

you’d picked this suite specially due to its expansive space

the option of a birthing pool was still available if you so needed it, but the mood lighting and access to aromatherapy was what attracted you to the room in the first place

a serene paradise for your angels to be born into

it was perfect

taehyung explored while you adjusted to your new surroundings

of course, it didn’t take him long to find the birthing ball

“what’s the difference between a yoga ball and a birthing ball?”

there obviously was none, but you took a few seconds to try and be smart with him

“well, sit on that and you might have a baby the size of a watermelon come out of you soon.”

taehyung cradled his torso and pulled a shocked expression, which was enough to make you giggle and cause another contraction

less than a few hours passed, and you had already attempted to scream the building down once or twice

“get these babies out of me. no i’m serious, i need them out.”

realising your deadpan expression, taehyung soon attended to you at the head of your bed

stroking your slightly sweaty head and patting a ice cold flannel on your clammy forehead

he braced himself for a crushing hand grip which came about sooner than he’d prepared for

you weren’t the biggest fan of commotion, and so being surrounded by nurses and doctors was close to being your worst nightmare

taehyung focused his voice into your ear, trying to minimise the tension coming from below your pelvis

his motivational words were broken up by short bursts of pushes

many of which were followed by a string of curse words which just slipped out

and then, there it was.

the first piercing cry belted across the room

a tear or two may have happened to slip from your eyes

finally the moment you’d waited for, nearly two years in the making, was here

the first of two, a little girl who already had a head full of the most luscious black hair

taehyung wanted to hold back his happy tears in order to show some kind of strength

but you and him both knew he’d never hold it back for long

within the space of 4 minutes, the second baby was born into the world.

but this time, there was no immediate cry

the whole world seemed to slow down in that moment as you waited

and waited

midwifes gathered around the new infant, looking for any kind of obstruction

but, soon enough, your son said his first hello to the world

[sour--disposition]

Bad Girlfriend

-

harry lewis x fem!reader

-

@ketamineharry suggested a harry imagine based off of Anne-Marie’s Bad Girlfriend and voila

please check my pinned post for request/prompt info and my masterlist

You cancel plans for me - I cancel ours on you - Say I'd be back early - I don't get in 'til 2 - You ask me where I've been - I tell you something vague - Think I messed up again - What can I say

You were sick and tired of Harry and his behaviour. When you first got together, you chalked his actions up to being young and dumb. And then to getting used to having more money. Then you blamed it on having to deal with so much at such a young age. 

The excuses piled up, one on top of the other. You knew one day it would all come toppling down around you, drowning you and Harry in a sea of problems that you doubted you’d be able to survive. You’d excused cheating, been by his side during hangovers from hell and comedowns that took too long to make Harry realise that the high really wasn’t worth the pain. You’d rubbed his back and handed him bottles of water and paracetamol and nursed him back to health, only for him to go and get in the same state the next weekend and expect you to help him gather the pieces back together again.

You’d tried to patch things up. Every time that you went to Harry to air all your concerns, tell him that if he doesn’t get his act together that you’d leave, and he always promised that things would be better this time. But something would always happen. There’d be plans he’d forget or cancel. He’d get too drunk and end up with hands over another girl’s body. 

“Ooh, you look nice”, Harry commented as soon as you answered his FaceTime call. “What are you doing?”, he asked you.

“I’m off out with some girls from uni tonight”, you told him as you stood up from the sofa and started gathering your things together.

“I thought you were coming over?”, he said, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Sorry”, you said nonchalantly. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah”, you told him half-heartedly.

“Yeah, whatever”, Harry huffed. “Come back here after?”, he suggested.

“Sure”, you said, a small smile on your lips. “I’ve gotta go, their taxi just pulled up. Love you”, you rushed out, hanging up and shoving your phone into your clutch, along with your keys, card and some cash.

Harry 💕: where are you it’s 11?

Harry💕: y/n c’mon i miss you

Harry💕: am i waiting up for you or not?

Harry💕: its 2am

You didn’t read the texts until you were swaying on the spot in the lift of Harry’s apartment building. Your vision was fuzzy as you tried to find the right key for their front door. “Y/N?”, Harry asked, opening the door.

“Hey”, you slurred, stumbling towards him. “I couldn’t see your key”, you told him.

“Where’ve you even been?”, Harry asked, voice dripping with distaste and disappointment.

“Here, there, everywhere”, you giggled. 

“Come on, go to bed”, Harry said sternly. “I have a shoot tomorrow and Josh will kill me if I’m late or lacking”, he told you.

“Oh, I am so very sorry”, you drawled, exaggerating all of your words, much to your own amusement.

“I’m not being funny, Y/N. Go to bed or go home”, Harry said sharply.

Your face dropped, the small square inch of your brain that was yet to be drenched in vodka and whatever else you’d been drinking lit up with anger. “Fine”, you snapped. You stormed down the hallway, sure of your footing this time and not stumbling once.

“Where are you going?”, Harry called after you.

“Home!”, you shouted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind you as hard as you could.

You shivered in the cold, late night wind of London as you waited on the curbside for your taxi. As soon as the car pulled up, you slid into the backseat and rattled off your address. The street lights and neon signs of London passed by in a blur of alcohol and anger and regret. “Thanks. Keep the change”, you muttered, handing a note over to the driver and getting out of the taxi.

Once you’d got back into your apartment, you changed into some pyjamas and took your make-up off as quickly as possible. You crawled under the covers, pulling them around your body and getting comfy in the middle of your bed. 

Part of you felt a little guilty for how you’d treated Harry, but a bigger part of you couldn’t find the effort to care. You’d put up with Harry acting like this for 6 years, he could tolerate you doing it once or twice.

-

You wanna meet my friends - I say another day

“Another day, Harry”, you sighed, heavily, turning back to the work you were trying to get done for your classes.

“You always say that. You’ve been on this course for, like, a year”, Harry whined.

“I know but I really need to focus on work at the moment, Harry”, you told him. “I started my degree later than I wanted to anyway and then I didn’t commit to it like I should have last year because of…”, you trailed off.  “Another day”.

“Because of what?”, Harry asked, voice taking a combative edge as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I don’t want to get into this again”, you sighed heavily, slumping into your chair.

“Well, you started it!”, he argued. “So finish your sentence. Go on!”, he goaded.

“I couldn’t commit to my degree because I was too busy looking after you!”, you shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Me to lash out? Fucking well done”, you spat. You gathered up your things as quick as you could, closing your book and shoving things into your bag.

“Where are you going now?”, Harry asked frustratedly.

“Home. I have an essay to do for next week”, you muttered as you shoved past Harry.

Things between you and Harry were only getting worse. You knew about the other girls, but the both of you just pretended that you didn’t. All of his friends saw Harry as some sheepish kid with a loud mouth girlfriend, but they never got to see the Harry that you were seeing more and more. The Harry that held things from years ago against you, the Harry that was becoming more controlling by the day, the Harry that would raise his voice when things went even slightly not his way… The Harry that wasn’t the same Harry that you fell in love with.

-

'Cause I'm one in a million - More like in a billion - I don't think it's cheating if I'm kissing other women - I do some shit you can't forgive - And you better get used to it

The more you and Harry argued, the more his friends didn’t like you. They hid it well, especially Simon and Josh since you were such good friends with Talia and Freya. But you noticed the side glances you’d get anytime you laughed a little louder than usual, any time you’d say something that would make Talia or Freya cackle. You’d notice the looks that they would send Harry when you had the audacity to go and dance and your own, or when you’d be on your phone whilst everyone else was fighting to keep you out of the conversation.

You had no doubt in your mind that Harry was telling them bare-faced lies about you and hiding the truth about himself. You knew that they had no clue about Harry’s cheating, about how bad his drinking and substance abuse had truly been, how much he actually relied on you for day to day functioning. All they knew was that you were loud, argumentative and didn't give Harry the time of day when it came to uni work.

“Do you think she knows she’s punching?”, you heard Ethan ask JJ.

“I mean, it’s so obvious. Harry’s miles out of her league. C’mon man!”, JJ laughed in reply.

You looked to Harry to see his reaction. You knew he’d heard what was said, but based on the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. You didn’t need the validation from your boyfriend’s best friends, but it would be nice if your boyfriend would at least defend you or reassure you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave the table, heading towards the toilets. You were facing the mirror, touching up your hair and make-up, when Freya and Talia walked in. “What happened?”, Talia asked.

You told them what you’d heard and watched as their faces contorted into looks of horror. “Oh my god!”, Freya exclaimed. “What did Harry say!?”, she asked, coming closer to hold you hand supportively.

Your silence answered their question perfectly. “I can’t believe him”, Talia huffed, wrapping her arms around you.

“Things haven’t been great, but I never thought he’d just sit and let his best friends slag me off practically to my face”, you told them. Your eyes were watery.

“Hey, babe. Don’t let your mascara run”, a dark haired girl told you, handing you a tissue. “Whoever is letting someone slag you off is stupid”, she assured you.

“My boyfriend”, you said sadly. 

“I hate boys”, she laughed darkly, rolling her eyes, before rejoining her group of friends.

You, Talia and Freya emerged from the toilets around 5 minutes later, once you were sure that your tears had dried and weren’t going to restart. The three of you walked towards the table, Freya and Talia immediately sliding next to Josh and Simon.

“Where’s Harry?”, you asked, not seeing him anywhere. Ethan gave you a look and pointed towards the dancefloor before turning back to his conversation with JJ and Vik.

You glanced over towards the dancefloor, hoping you’d see Harry. Thankfully, he was towards the edge, back turned towards you. You watched as he turned around, ready to try and grab his attention. His eyes met yours, briefly filling with panic, before darting back down to the girl in his arms.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, as Harry’s friends and Freya and Talia all watched as he tried to assess the situation and what to do.

He watched as you walked closer, looking ready to send the stranger away. Harry’s eyes followed you as you sailed past him and towards the middle of the dance floor. You could feel eyes on you as you began dancing to the music, letting the beat mix with the alcohol and take over your body.

“Did you sort things with your boyfriend?”, a female voice asked. It was the girl from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully at her.

“No”, you snorted. “I came to speak to him and he was all over another girl”, you told her. Your eyes darted over to where you’d last seen Harry. “That’s him there, sucking face with the blonde”.

“I hope he’s your ex-boyfriend now”, she told you, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated”, you admitted, looking down in shame. It wasn’t news to you that you were letting Harry treat you like a doormat, but you had yet to muster up the courage to leave him. Just as you looked up, ready to offer to explain it over a drink, someone behind you shoved you, sending you catapulting into the girl’s arms.

“Careful there, can’t have you falling for me already. I’ve not even started flirting yet”, she told you with a smirk. “Martha”, she said politely, holding out a hand.

“Y/N”, you told her with a shy smile as you accepted her outstretched hand.

“Care for a dance?”, Martha asked you, pulling you closer with the hand that was still in hers.

You didn’t care if Harry and his friends watched as your bodies rolled together. Harry had never danced with you on a night out like this, never held you shamelessly in a club for everyone to see. Harry had never held your face so securely as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of everyone around you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”, you heard beside you.

“Is this the boyfriend?”, Martha asked once she’d pulled back and let her eyes flutter open, eyeing Ethan up and down as soon as she had.

“The boyfriend’s best friend”, you told her, preparing to step out of her hold.

“Last time I checked, the boyfriend was preoccupied with someone else. Get him to come and find me when he wants his girlfriend. We’ll be right here”, she said, voice powerful and allowing no argument as her arms held you closer.

Harry never came to find you. The two of you left the club in separate taxis and you left with a new number saved in your phone.

-

You should be with someone else - Someone who is not myself

“Harry, you deserve so much better”, you heard a voice say as you walked into Harry’s apartment. You walked down the hallway quietly, lingering just behind the door frame to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“We’ve been together for so long, though”, Harry sighed.

“Did you not see what she did the other night? She was all over some other chick!”, a voice, Simon’s, exclaimed.

“Maybe it was just a mistake, y’know”, Harry tried to reason.

“She’s not good for you, Harry”, JJ, this time, said.

You’d heard enough. You turned the corner, coming face to face with all 7 of the boys. “Y/N…”, Harry trailed off.

“No, no. Carry on talking about me, it’s fine”, you said, voice lathered in artificial sweetness.

“Damnit, Y/N, it wasn’t like that”, Harry snapped, surprising everyone but you. “What are you doing?”, he asked as you started gathering a blanket off of the back of the sofa and plucking a hoodie off of the back of a dining room chair..

“Getting my shit and going”, you hissed.

“You’re being dramatic”, Harry scolded.

“No, Harry. I’ve put up with your bullshit since we were 18. I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve put my life on hold for long enough. You need someone, but I’m not that someone anymore. I’m sick of looking after you and letting your friends hate me just because you’re too much of a coward to tell them the truth”, you spat.

“We know everything, Y/N”, Ethan said smugly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“So you know that I started my degree late because I had to get Harry sober? You know that he’s cheated on me more times than I can count? You know that I’ve tried for 6 fucking years to get him to love me as much as I love him and it’s never fucking worked!?”, you all but yelled, shocking everyone in front of you.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked, voice frustrated and angry.

“I know that you don’t love me as much as I love you”, you told him simply. “You cancelled 3 anniversary dates to go on nights out with the guys. You made me cancel a weekend away because you wanted to go to Dubai. You get annoyed when I try to do my uni work. You let Ethan and JJ slag me off, practically to my face, and didn’t say a fucking word”, you told him.

You looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear my boyfriend’s best friends, people I’ve known for 6 years, say that I’m punching and that you deserve better? Did you think about how much it hurt me when you didn’t even flinch at what they said?”.

Harry’s face lit up in anger. “It’s not like you’ve been a good girlfriend!”, he spat.

“Because being a good girlfriend to you is like a full time job. It’s a full time job and I haven’t had a day off in over 5 years. So yeah, I’ve been a bad girlfriend… Boo fucking hoo”, you grumbled.

Harry remained silent, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We can try again”, he suggested quietly.

“We have! Over and over again!”, you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m tired of looking after you when I’m just as hungover as you. I’m tired of not making plans because I literally can not afford for you to cancel on me anymore. You don’t value me or anything that I do. Your friends hate me and you don’t care. I’ve been your last priority for years and I’m sick of it. We’re done. I’ll put your stuff in a box and bring it round”, you told him, voice losing more and more strength as you spoke.

“Y/N…”, Harry tried, reaching for your arm.

“Don’t”.

[wreckmetoji]

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader ↳ Megumi Fushiguro/Reader

Part 7/?

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6

content warning. negative thoughts, self doubt, angst, slight fluff, poor megumi This is part seven of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

1.9k words

You glared at him, only to be met with a shit-eating grin. "Looks like that smart mouth is good for something. Now get out of my car." The exchange was less than desirable. Nothing screams you're worthless more than pleasuring a man and then being told to promptly get out of his sight. There were no more words exchanged between the two of you, once you had gotten out of the car and slammed the door shut, Toji sped off without as much as a glance in your direction. It made you seethe, but at the same time you felt so incredibly disgusted that you let him degrade you like that. It took you a while to clean up, deciding to crumple your only half decent dress and throw it in your closet to be forgotten, and shower away the now dried cum sticking to your legs. You don't know why you were left feeling this way, you knew Toji wasn't a good man. You also knew that whatever you two had going on was supposed to be zero feelings involved. Still, it wouldn't have killed him to treat you decently. Sitting on your bed in nothing but a towel, you held your phone in both hands, staring at the bright screen in stark contrast to your nearly pitch-black room. You needed to talk to someone, you felt vulnerable. You knew Nobara had a date tonight, and Yuuji was taking night classes to make up for failing grades, that only left... A sigh fell from your lips, heart wrenching when your thumb pressed the call button, your heartbeat hammering in your ear as you brought the phone to it. It only rang two times before he answered, like he was already anticipating your call. "Hey," Megumi sounded tired, and you could hear the rustling of his sheets on the other end. It was nearly midnight, the realization that you must've disturbed his sleep making you feel even worse. "Hey..." You answered quietly, unsure what else to say. How were you going to get emotional support from him? It's not like you could say your dad fucked me stupid and made me feel used, I need someone to talk to. You heard his gentle voice call your name, once, then twice, before you placed your hand over your mouth and sniffled, trying to keep your tears at bay. You were human fucking garbage. "Hey, hey whats wrong? Are you okay?" Again, you heard the rustling of sheets, then a click followed by a long creak. "I'm gonna come over, wait for me, okay? I'll be ten minutes." You nodded, even though he couldn't see you, and the line went quiet. He never hung up, staying on the phone with you while he drove. Every time you sniffled, or whimpered, or quietly sobbed, he would croon it's okay, I'm almost there. In much less time than he said he'd take, you heard the phone go silent, followed by his frantic rapping at the door. He knew the code to get into your building, him being one of three people you trusted so dearly with it. You were suddenly very aware of your towel-clad body, but really unable to care at the moment. You just needed someone. Less than a second after the door was opened, Megumi was inside your apartment, kicking the door shut with his heel. When he quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, your hands balled into his chest, accepting the halo of warmth he provided as you quietly sobbed into his shirt. It didn't take long for you to stop crying, standing in the entryway in silence as Megumi held you with such care. Once he could tell you'd calmed slightly, he brought you back to your room, sitting you on the bed and going through your closet to find you something to wear. You didn't see that he noticed the dress you wore tonight so angrily discarded in the corner. He managed to find one of his old graphic shirts he gave you, and a pair of loose shorts, placing them on the bed beside you. "I'll give you a minute. Let me know when you're done." He stepped out of the room, making sure not to close the door completely behind him, letting the hallway light bleed into the dark room so you'd be able to see what you were doing. You softly smiled at his choice of clothes, the faded cartoon dog on the shirt was nostalgic. Once changed, you slowly opened the door, refusing to make eye contact. If he knew whatever was wrong was tied to him in some way, he didn't show it. You sat on the couch with him, legs bunched up, leaning into his side with his arm slung over your shoulders. The silence was comfortable, your tears and sniffles mostly subsided as the two of you absentmindedly watched whatever movie he decided to put on. "So," He broke the silence, taking a deep breath, "Do you want to talk about what's wrong?" This is the part you were dreading. How were you going to say this, if you could even say anything? There's nothing you could say that wouldn't give away who hurt you in what way. You could only imagine how disgusted he would be with you. "Shit, no," Megumi cursed, turning towards you on the couch when you started to cry again. "It's okay, you don't have to talk about it." His arm was still over the back of the couch, his other reaching out to grab yours, hesitating for a moment before he threaded his fingers between yours. "I feel like," You hiccuped, gripping his hand in both of yours. "I feel like if I talk about it, you'll end up hating me. I can't have you hate me, Gumi." You hung your head, tears falling onto your joined hands. Megumi remained quiet, scooting closer to you on the couch, his free hand coming to rub your back. "You know I could never hate you." You knew that was a lie, at least in this situation. "I'm just a pile of fucking garbage, I can't even get my life together for one fucking day! I just hurt everyone around me and–" Your words were caught in your throat, the hand that was previously holding yours now grasping your chin and forcing you to turn and look at him. Despite that, it was still gentle. "Don't say that shit, you know better than that." He firmly scolded, sapphire blue eyes boring into yours. The longer he stared, the more you cried. "I just feel... so disgusting. I feel like everyone would be happier if I weren't around. I feel worthless." Your tears slowed, watching his eyes as they scanned your face, settling on your lips a little longer than anticipated. You wanted to feel like you were worth something. In that moment, and that time, you wanted to feel loved. It didn't matter by who. Leaning into his touch, moving your face closer, your gaze moved between his eyes and his lips, watching them part ever so slightly. When he leaned back, even if just a centimeter, you stopped dead in your tracks. The tips of his ears were flushed, his breaths heavy and slow as they fanned over your lips. "I... I don't know what I'd do without you, so please..." Megumi swallowed, seeming unsure of what to do. His hand moved to the back of your head, cradling it when he closed the tiny gap between you two, kissing you so passionately, and so desperately. You returned the favor, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist and pulling you impossibly close. This was wrong, you were horrible for using him like this, but he was the only one that made you feel wanted, needed. He was the first to pull back, keeping you in place as he rested his forehead against yours. Sapphire eyes were closed, and his brows were knitted together. When you leaned in for another kiss, he turned his head slightly. Your name fell from his lips in a pained whisper. "I don't think this is really what you want." He sounded sincere, but absolutely shattered. "I think you think this is what you want, and I'm sorry I took advantage of that but... I can't have you disappearing on me again because I'm selfish." If only he knew that you were the selfish one. You were quiet for a moment, hands loosening their grip on his shirt. "Please," You begged, tilting your head to kiss him again, only to have him lean back and look at you. His expression was doubtful, like he didn't believe what he was hearing. "Please, Gumi, I need you right now." With the way his jaw visibly clenched, you knew you wouldn't have to convince him anymore. He was weak to your requests and wide teary brimmed eyes, you'd put him in a position he just couldn't refuse. You moved forward again, this time successful in managing to kiss him, just as desperate as before. The feeling of his resolve crumbling made you sigh against his lips, both of his hands coming up and cupping your face. It was nothing like the treatment you'd experienced the last few times with his father, the two seemed like complete opposites in how they handled a partner. Perhaps it really all came down to whether or not they cared about who they were touching. Megumi moved his hands down, moving under your shirt just enough so the flats of his palms came in contact with the bare skin of your waist. He dared not go further than that, you knew he wouldn't even as he pulled you into his lap, never once breaking the needy, now crooked kiss. He had been the first to crack, hesitantly brushing his tongue against the lip of your slightly parted mouth, and you eagerly returned the favor. It was clear he wasn't thinking straight with how firmly he held you against him, chest heaving when he exhaled through his nose. His grip tightened, halting your movements after you had rocked forward on him, causing your clothed heat to rub up against the forming tent in his black pajama pants. Clearly, with how sensitive he was, he wasn't wearing underwear. He parted from you, cheeks flushed and irises blown. "I... we can't. Not yet." "You don't want to?" "No– fuck, I do. I want to, I want you– I just don't want you to regret it again." Maybe, you thought, the disappointed expression painting your face would tell him you wouldn't, but deep down you knew he wouldn't budge. He always had a good moral compass, at least when he was sober. You nodded, and he let out the breath he was holding, leaning up and giving you one, two, three kisses, the third lingering much longer than the others. "I'll stay with you tonight, if that's what you want, but if we're gonna do something like that, I want to do it proper this time." That was admirable, you thought with a bittersweet smile as he carried you to your room, settling you down on your queen bed and crawling in next to you. He didn't have to beckon you once he put his head down on the plush pillow, since you were already making your way over to his side. In this moment, and in this time, you felt loved. You felt needed. You felt respected. And you knew that come morning time, you'd probably regret that too. 

______________________________________________________________

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 1

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Summary: Assigned all cases involving android-related crimes, saddled with a prototype that follows him around like a plastic puppy, Detective Connor Anderson knows this must be karma for all the bad shit he’s ever done.

He thought he'd hit rock bottom, that he didn't have much left to lose, but he's proven wrong by the android sent by CyberLife. And Connor learns just how much further he can fall.

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​​)

November 5th, 2038

Friday 11:21PM

The whiskey was harsh and burned like liquid fire as it slid down his throat. He dropped the shot glass onto the bar top and closed his eyes and savored the bloom of the cheap booze warming his chest. The music from the old jukebox behind him belted out tunes that would have been considered outdated when the place opened.

It was like this most nights. He was alone, exhausted, and well on his way to a pleasant buzz. The one thing Connor had going for him was that he hadn’t started in on his third drink until 11 PM.

That had to be some kind of record. On a Friday night, he was usually shitfaced by 10. Call it the long hours he’d been working, or maybe the fact he felt more self-loathing than usual, he’d somehow managed to hold off on spiraling until nearly midnight.

Definitely a record. And Connor deserved to celebrate.

When he tipped the glass with one finger and caught Jimmy’s eye, he nearly looked away in shame. The bartender had never given him shit before, at least in a verbal sense, but the cool stare he gave Connor now made him want to crawl into a hole and die there.

But Jimmy didn’t say a word, just gave him another dose of poison and turned away, leaving Connor in relative peace to enjoy the game. Denton Carter was kicking ass tonight, so at least there was that.

It was all going beautifully until the door opened and the sound of rain echoed throughout the tiny bar, along with a distinct smell of wet asphalt and dirty concrete. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw two of the other regulars shift in their seats to stare at the newcomer.

Not another regular, then. And by how lengthy the stares were and the sudden shift in atmosphere, Connor guessed the barometric pressure had taken a drop due to a pair of long legs and pretty eyes.

Turning his body only far enough to get a glance for himself, Connor was not disappointed, eyeing the stranger from their black dress shoes, up their shapely legs clad in dark jeans, past curvy hips and—

Oh.

Connor turned back in his seat, hunched over and grimacing in disgust, put there by the sight of a blue triangle on a lapel and a glowing armband around one arm. He hadn’t even needed to look higher for the LED to know what the fuck had just waltzed into the joint like it actually belonged there.

He nursed his whiskey, praying the thing would pass him by and leave him the fuck alone. Or better yet, Jimmy would throw it out.

No such luck, of course.

“Detective Anderson,” spoke a smooth, raspy voice to his right. “I’m the YN800 model sent by CyberLife.”

He elected to ignore it. Maybe if he did so for long enough, it would take the hint and go away.

Again, Connor’s luck was not holding out.

“I called your cell phone, but you didn’t answer,” the voice continued, unimpeded. “I then looked for you at the station after checking your home, but you weren’t there either. Your colleagues indicated you tended to frequent the bars in the area, and I was fortunate to find you at the fifth one.”

His eye twitched. This thing had gone to his apartment?

“Well, here I am,” he answered, dry and caustic as he stared straight ahead at the wall of bottles. He calculated how angry Jimmy would be if he took out his service pistol and shot it through the head.

Pretty angry, Connor decided. It would probably leave a stain. Also, he didn’t want to compensate some asshole company for property damage.

“What do you want?” he finally growled, scratching his nail into the bar top already marred with various scuffs and dings.

“You were assigned a case earlier this evening. A homicide.”

Already, a headache was forming between the eyes at the sound of the android’s irritatingly friendly voice.

“Yeah, and?”

“It involved a CyberLife android,” it said in that same smooth inflection. “In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators.”

You have to be shitting me.

Connor grit his teeth and clenched his glass tighter, a flush of heat moving through him that had nothing to do with his blood alcohol content. A fucking android was sent to help cops do their job?

Fuck that, and fuck this hunk of junk.

“Good for them,” he answered as he tipped the glass up to his lips. “I couldn’t give less of a shit. Now get the fuck out of my face. We don’t need any help, especially from a plastic pair of tits like you.”

He should have known that wasn’t the end of it. The android spoke again, adopting a tone of what it had probably been programmed as “sympathetic.”

“I understand you may be experiencing reluctance to having an android’s assistance in this matter, but I am—“

“—ruining a perfectly good evening, butting your nose where it doesn’t belong and sure as fuck isn’t welcome.”

Connor put his glass down harder on the bar top than he meant to, nearly spilling his drink.

“I suggest you leave before I void your warranty.”

Connor thought the machine got the message when it finally went silent. He could even see its mood ring spinning yellow out of the corner of his eye before it settled on that annoying placid blue.

He’d just brought the glass halfway to his lips when it said, “I’m sorry, Detective, but I must insist.”

Connor set the glass back down and started to count to ten. He couldn’t lose it now, he’d promised Jimmy he wouldn’t break anything else after the last brawl he’d gotten into.

But the fucking thing just kept on talking.

“My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you.”

“You know where you can stick your instructions?” Connor growled before downing the glass of whiskey.

It was a good thing he had, because its next words made him choke on spit.

“No. Where?”

Connor set the glass down, and for the first time that evening, fully turned toward the android and stared at it.

The damn thing was staring back, head slightly tilted like a curious puppy. It had large eyes to match the image too, earnest and innocent and entirely too sincere. Its attire at second glance wasn’t the typical android faire. A smooth grey android jacket and a dark, patterned tie marked it as something different. Unique.

And just a little too pretty. Every designed, group-focused imperfection on its face made it that much more appealing. Its hair was neatly coifed, pulled up and pinned behind its head, exposing the smooth curve of its neck.

Hanging down the left side of its face was a strategically-placed lock of hair that Connor immediately want to twirl his finger around. He suspected that was the point.

The further down Connor’s eyes traveled, the more he lost his train of thought. The perfectly sensible tie was lying on the slope of its breasts, something even the jacket couldn’t cover. Why the fuck androids had breasts to begin with, Connor couldn’t begin to fathom, and it seemed even more ludicrous now seeing them on a “specialized model.”

The android hadn’t moved apart from its artificial breathing, another thing about the machines that was uncanny. They weren’t human, and the fact CyberLife kept trying to pass them off as such was a goddamn insult to humanity.

He met the thing’s eye, gave an unimpressed huff, and went back to nursing his drink. If the fucking tin can didn’t understand a dirty innuendo, he certainly wasn’t going to ruin its pristine, virginal programming.

Connor doubted everything that had just gone through his head as those unnecessarily realistic tits were pressed against his elbow, without warning or any sense of decency or a concept of personal space.

“How about this, Detective?”

Connor fumbled, nearly spilling his drink, a massive what the fuck! warning flashing in his head as the machine pressed closer.

“I’ll buy you another drink, on the house. Surely that’s worth a few minutes of your time? And if not, you can send me on my way.”

Connor couldn’t speak with that voice right into his ear like a close confidant, sultry and low and borderline pornographic, so it was a good thing the android didn’t bother waiting for a response.

Instead, it turned to Jimmy and said in a louder, more normal tone, “Bartender, another round for the detective, please.”

Jimmy turned from where he was cleaning glasses on the counter, eyebrows shooting upward as he looked from the machine to Connor. It had backed up a few inches, but there were a lot of reflective bottles on the wall. Connor wondered just how much Jimmy had seen.

Connor gave a little helpless shrug as if to say, Don’t look at me, I don’t know what the fuck it’s doing!

But when the damn thing actually brought out real paper money and set it on the counter, Jimmy got moving. Seemed he wasn’t picky about where his money came from, and Connor almost resented the fact he hadn’t thrown the android out on principle.

Who the hell gave it money in the first place? CyberLife? What, did they hand it a few bucks of allowance before letting it off its leash?

Despite all his reservations, and there were a great many of them, Connor was not about to turn down a free drink. Or two.

“Make it a double,” he grumbled, purposefully avoiding the android’s focused gaze. He could practically feel the thing staring into the side of his head, but at least it remained at a distance and wasn’t pressed against his side like a drunk, horny badge bunny anymore.

“Thanks, Jim.” Connor took the glass and tipped it back, drowning it in one go. The slide of the familiar burn down his throat, spreading throughout his limbs, did quite a lot to help ease the tension in his muscles.

He released a heavy exhale, pushed away from the bar, and got to his feet.

“You want to play plastic cop? Okay, then. Keep up,” he said, tilting his head in its direction without actually looking at it. “Or I’m leaving your ass behind.”

Connor didn’t wait for a response, only raised his hand in parting to Jimmy, and pushed open the door to let the rain-drenched Detroit night swallow him whole. But even through the sound of the rain pinging off the hood of his nearby car he could hear the even footfalls behind him, just a little too close for comfort.

Fucking androids.

Next Chapter

[thishintoflove]

A Sweet Package - BobaDin Week Day 5: AU

Pairing: Din Djarin / Boba Fett

Rating: General (no warnings aside from mild swearing)

Summary: Boba has to deal with an unwanted package at his front door. Luckily, the hassle turns out to be worth it when he meets the package's true owner.

A/N: Here, have some tooth-rotting fluff because these boys deserve it! (ﾉ☉ヮ⚆)ﾉ ⌒*:･ﾟ✧

Also available on AO3

“Ouch, shit, god dammit,” Boba swore as he stubbed his toe.

He shifted his keys to his other hand and leaned against his apartment door as he bent down to rub his toe, glaring at the offending object.

The damn package was in the wrong place. The worst part? He hadn’t even ordered anything recently.

It had been a long day, he was tired, and he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with unwanted shit outside his door.

Boba was inclined to just let it sit there, but he had to move it out of the way if he didn’t want to repeat this stubbed-toe incident tomorrow. As he glanced down again to shove it away with his foot, he noticed that the package had actually come to the correct place, but it had come to the wrong person.

It was his address, but he was certainly not the “Grogu Djarin” to whom it had been addressed.

He’d been living here for almost three months and he hadn’t received any other pieces of mail. Surely there was a forwarding address set up for this Grogu Djarin? The outside label had a personalized message that read, “To Grogu. I love you to the stars and back, little one. Happy Birthday! Love, Dad.”

Ah shit. He was going to have to do something with it.

Boba did not want to be responsible for a kid missing out on his birthday present. Grogu Djarin would probably be expecting his package-- what if this was his only birthday gift? Another closer look at the box revealed a “Perishable: refrigerate after opening” label. Damn, he certainly couldn’t just keep the package and hope that the father in question would come by and collect it. Given its size, weight, and postage markings on it, whoever had ordered it had spent quite a lot on getting it sent.

Boba sighed and bent down to carry the package inside. As he set it down on the kitchen table, he saw that there was no return address, just the information from the company that had sent it. A bakery. A well-known, quite expensive bakery.

He had a very clear picture of what was going on now, but he didn’t know what he could do about it. Boba’s brow furrowed. It wasn’t his responsibility, technically… But the thought of a little boy not receiving his birthday treat, from his father no less, was enough to soften his heart.

He couldn’t get the vision of this unknown man telling his sad child that he wasn’t getting a birthday cake this year out of his head. It was terribly sad...

Oh great. He was on a mission now.

Boba had to get the cake to this child. He needed a plan. Returning to sender would be useless at this point, so he had to find out the current address of Grogu Djarin’s father.

He grabbed his phone and typed up a quick message to his landlord and leasing agency.

"This is Boba Fett from apartment fifteen. Do you have a forwarding address for the previous tenants? I’ve received a time-sensitive package for them."

After sending the message, Boba ambled around his apartment and tried to find something to take his mind off the Problem sitting on his table. He took some cold noodles out of the fridge for dinner and listened to a voicemail from Fennec that mostly involved her complaining about a recent customer.

Right when he was about to dive into invoices from work, his phone buzzed with a message from his landlord. It contained the former tenant’s email address.

He scratched the back of his head as he considered how to compose the email. He figured keeping it formal was a safer bet. He didn’t want this guy thinking he was some kind of creep. Boba hummed to himself as he typed out a message.

"Hello. I’m the current tenant of your previous apartment and I’ve received a package addressed to you. It says “perishable” on it so I figured it was important. Let me know how you’d like to proceed."

He leaned back in his chair, assuming that it would take a while for Grogu Djarin’s father to respond. But it didn’t. Within five minutes, his phone chirped with a response.

"Thank you! I was wondering what happened when it didn’t arrive today like it was scheduled to. It was my own fault for forgetting to update my address when I ordered online. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. Thanks for letting me know what happened."

Boba frowned as he read the response. The man obviously wasn’t expecting anything from him. That was a good thing, but Boba still felt guilty. Perhaps the man was too polite to ask anything of him? He decided to dig a little deeper.

"The package is a birthday cake, right? I recognize the bakery on the label. Do you still need it?"

"Yes, it’s a cake. It’s my son’s birthday tomorrow. All the kids in his class are obsessed with this bakery but we’ve never been, so I decided to order from them as a surprise. I’d offer to come pick it up but my son’s already in bed and I can’t leave him alone. Thanks for letting me know what happened to it. You can get rid of it, or enjoy it yourself if you want."

Boba sucked in a breath and considered his options.

"Are you still in the city? I could bring it to you."

"I couldn’t ask you to do that."

"It’s no trouble."

"Okay, then yes, thank you! I can’t tell you how much that means to me. My address is ---"

Luckily it wasn’t too far from Boba’s apartment. No more than twenty minutes. He could handle that.

He sent back one more message affirming that he was on his way, and then he gathered up the package and his keys. So much for a relaxing night. He had to be up early as usual, but the warmth in his chest almost made up for it. Hell, he felt like some kind of personal Santa Claus. Fennec would say that his actions were “good karma”, but deep down Boba knew he was doing it for the little boy on the label. He knew what it was like to have a disappointing birthday as a child. Boba wouldn’t allow another child to experience that if there was something he could do about it.

Twenty minutes later he was standing in front of an unfamiliar apartment door, double-checking his email to make sure he was at the correct address. He knocked gently, since it was late and the kid inside was likely asleep.

After a brief moment, the door opened to reveal a tall, disheveled man. He was fit and looked only slightly younger than Boba, but his hair was a mess and there was... flour? Yes, flour, spilled across his shirt and sleeves. His brown eyes immediately widened in recognition and gratitude when he realized who was at the door.

“Hey,” Boba said awkwardly, hefting the package in his arms, “I believe this belongs to you.”

“Yes, thank you!” the man exclaimed, opening the door wider and stepping into the threshold, “You really have no idea how much this means to me. My son’s going to be very happy tomorrow.”

“I figured,” Boba replied, handing over the package. He allowed his eyes to run over the man’s features again. He was a mess, but cute. Very cute. And he was clearly a caring father. It made Boba want to be nicer than usual.

“You didn’t have to come all this way. Can I pay you, or give you something to thank you-”

Boba just held up his hand and shook his head.

“It’s no problem, really. I wanted to. As soon as I saw the ‘happy birthday’ message, I thought oh shit, I gotta get this to them. I hope your son enjoys it.”

“I’m sure he will. You really did me a huge favor. We moved a few weeks ago and my head’s still all over the place. Finally got a two-bedroom,” the man said, then quickly shut his mouth when he realized this might be unnecessary information.

“Congratulations,” Boba replied, giving him a wry smile. The man blushed and shifted the package under one arm so he could reach out and shake Boba’s hand.

“I’m Din by the way.”

“Boba. Nice to meet you.”

He knew he could walk away right now, but something about the man in front of him was magnetic. Boba was jaded enough at this point in life to not believe in stupid romantic fantasies like love at first sight, but there was something about this man that seemed special. His eyes captivated Boba’s attention, and he found that he wasn’t ready to end their conversation just yet.

“Were you trying to whip up a last-minute backup cake?” Boba asked, gesturing to the flour he spotted on Din’s collar and neck.

Din gave a humorless chuckle and shook his head.

“Just cupcakes. And it was going terribly. I uh, can’t bake to save my life,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Boba hummed and tilted his head. Should he…? Yeah, he was going to be honest with Din.

“Well, I can.”

Din’s brow furrowed and he gave Boba the most adorable confused look. “Huh?”

“I can bake. Actually, I bake quite a lot.”

“You do?”

“Couldn’t tell just by looking at me?” Boba tossed back sarcastically, but he grinned to show the man he wasn’t truly offended, “Yes, it’s my job. I own a bakery.”

“Oh! That’s amazing! And you… came all this way to deliver a cake from a rival bakery?”

“I’ll be honest, when I first saw the package at my door I was ready to dump it in the trash, but your note changed my mind. They’re overrated, but they’re still pretty good. I’m sure your son and his friends will love the cake.”

“I’m inclined to believe you, seeing as you’re an expert and all.”

“But now you’ll have to allow me to get some free advertising out of this deal,” Boba replied, his grin widening, “If you’re interested in trying some real delicious, authentic stuff, come by my place with your son sometime. It’s over on the West Side. I promise I’ll make something that’ll blow this cake out of the water.”

Din’s eyes sparkled as he nodded, “I think that’s a fair deal. It won’t take much to convince my son, he has a massive sweet tooth.”

“Fantastic. It’ll be worth the trip, just wait and see.”

They smiled at each other like they were in some kind of damn rom-com. Boba knew that he was probably wearing the same goofy-grin as Din but it didn’t bother him. So what if he appeared soft? It was near-midnight on Wednesday, there was no one else in the apartment hallway to see them anyway. Even if there was, Boba couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Well… have a good rest of your night,” he said to Din, taking a step back. He had to leave before he did something really stupid, like lean in for a kiss with this overly attractive stranger. This wasn’t actually a movie- it wasn’t like there was a soft-rock ballad swelling in the background.

“Thank you again, Boba,” Din replied, his voice brimming with sincerity. He gave Boba one last soft smile as the man started to step away, “And I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

“I look forward to it.”

As Boba walked back down the stairs, he couldn’t get the stupid smile off his face. Fennec would laugh at him tomorrow when he recounted the story, but he didn’t care. Sure, real-life wasn’t a movie. But this was as close to it as he’d ever come, and you could be damn sure that he was going to savor it.

[s-horne]

for @maguna-stxrk​ based on this prompt 💖

------

“For the last time, Tony, I am not going to ask them if they sell coffee by the gallon. I’m pretty sure that would kill you.”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“But it does hurt to drink that much coffee. Even if they did, which they don’t, I’m not risking it. You don’t need any help in endangering yourself.”

“I resent that.”

“And I don’t care,” Steve said back. The queue moved forward and Steve stepped closer to the till, already feeling slightly more awake than he’d been before he’d been hit with the scent of fresh coffee. “I’m not helping you with a caffeine overdose.”

“Think of it as a science experiment.”

Steve huffed, moving with the line again. It was going quickly and his mouth was practically watering at the thought of his sweet morning pick-me-up. “I don’t do science.”

“Do it for me,” Tony wheedled, his voice not quite as convincing over the phone as it would have been in person, but still enough to make Steve wish he could do what Tony was asking. He was always weak around Tony. It was something of a problem. “Please.”

“Wow.” Steve paused mid-yawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Tony let out an indignant huff. “I say please.”

“No, you don’t. It’s part of having the Stark charm – everyone just does what you want without you having to ask nicely. Or even ask anything, for that matter.”

“Ooh,” Tony said, smirk clear in his tone, “are you saying you find me charming?”

Rolling his eyes so hard he was almost worried for himself, Steve moved his cell to his other ear and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “You wish. Anyway, I’m nearly ordering. Did you actually want anything? A real order,” he said quickly before Tony could say anything to the tune of ‘all the coffee in the shop’, “nothing that could be fatal. Or illegal.”

“Spoilsport,” Tony muttered and Steve could just picture his pout. “No, I’ll be okay. If it isn’t 99% caffeine, there’s just no point.”

With another eye roll and a soft laugh, Steve shook his head. “Goodbye, Tony. Please make sure my computer is on. I know you’re sitting in my office to avoid Pepper. But please don’t be playing games on it – last time you downloaded something and the music started playing when I was on a conference call.”

“I have to hide; she’s on the warpath! I only forgot one piece of paperwork. I don’t deserve the punishment that I know she has lined up for me.”

“See you in 10.” With a laugh at Tony’s expense, Steve hung up just as the line moved and he was up to order. 

“Morning,” Steve said to the young woman behind the counter. 

“Morning,” she said back with a smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Mocha, please. To-go, medium, thank you. Oh, and a raspberry muffin,” he added when the girl started typing on the till. “I’d better get him something.”

“Is that for your partner? You two sounded so close.”

Steve fumbled with his wallet, fingers slipping on his card as he pulled it out. “Tony? Oh, no,” he said quickly. He felt his cheeks color and he looked down with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wish. He doesn’t see me like that. We’re just work colleagues.” 

“Oh.” The barista sounded as disappointed as Steve felt on a daily basis, but gave him a smile and a shrug. “He talks to you like there’s something, from what I could hear.”

Steve didn’t know what to say and had only managed to splutter out a few nonsensical words before she printed his receipt and handed it over. 

“And you’re taking him a muffin. Well, that’s a guaranteed way to his heart.”

How Steve wished that were true. If that were actually the case, then they would have been together for years. 

Even with Tony being his superior in the office, Steve had quickly realised that Tony did not take care of himself and had felt an urge to do it for him. More evenings than not, Tony would be the last person in the office and at lunchtimes Tony would stay in his office, long conference calls trapping him as everyone else went off to eat. 

It was in Steve’s nature to provide for people. He couldn’t see someone not taking care of themselves and just walk away. His mother hadn’t raised him that way. Despite the slightly uneven feeling and his colleagues gently teasing him that Steve was only trying to get a salary increase, Steve had started adding to his morning order at the coffee shop and doubling his lunches. They had only been boring sandwiches and the occasional salad back then, but Steve reckoned it was better than nothing at all. He’d left them on Tony’s desk at the very beginning with nothing but a sticky note telling him to take a 5 minute break to eat. It hadn’t taken Tony long to warm up to Steve and, before Steve had even realised what was happening, he had a new best friend to share his lunch break with every day, the two of them alternating whose office they sat in and who paid for their meals. 

But that was all. Colleagues turned best friends. End of the story.

 “Order for Steve?”

Steve jolted out of his thoughts and lifted a hand as he hurried over to the counter. 

“Go get him,” the barista called from the till with a wink and Steve laughed, ducking his head when most of the customers turned to look at him curiously. 

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Steve heard as he left the shop and fell into step with the crowds on the street. 

He nodded and huffed a short laugh before he realised whose voice it was. Tony?

Panic flooding him, Steve fumbled with the cup and takeaway bag in his hands to look at the phone screen sticking out of the top pocket of his jacket. Tapping it frantically, he was met not with his lock screen photo of his baby nephew, but with the call screen informing him that his connection with Tony was still very much live. He was also somehow on speaker. 

“Does the whole shop know now?”

“Fuck!” Steve transferred the pastry bag and hot cup to one hand and jammed the phone between his ear and shoulder. “Tony?”

“Yup. You didn’t hang up.”

“I never do!” Steve answered, voice betraying his panic. “Whenever I used to, you threatened to tell our boss because you said it was rude to hang up on a superior! So then I just stopped – it wasn’t worth the teasing. You were meant to hang up!”

Tony laughed. “Still can’t believe you fell for that. Anyway, I think we have something to talk about, don’t we?”

Steve could say no. He could brush it all aside and pretend that it had all been a joke or a big misunderstanding. It would be so easy; it would save him from any awkward conversation, from a broken heart when Tony let him down gently. 

But, he didn’t want that. He wanted to take a chance, didn’t he? What if there was something there? 

Didn’t he owe it to himself - to himself and Tony - to at least try? 

He wanted the hugs, the kisses. He wanted the late nights and the lazy mornings in bed; he even wanted the arguments and the yelling that would no doubt be inevitable one day. 

“I think so,” Steve finally said, voice quiet but sure. “I’m on my way now.”

“I’m in your office,” Tony said and Steve smiled. 

“Aren’t you always?”

“You love it,” the smile was clear in Tony’s voice, any hesitation gone as he fell back into his familiar teasing. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Steve said immediately, automatically, whether Tony had been expecting an answer or not. “Stay there. And stop playing games on my computer!”

“Never! See you in a bit. With my muffin.”

Steve grinned even wider. He was getting predictable, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. “Yes,” he said, fondness that could be heard a mile off seeping into his tone, “yes, I got you a muffin – that you never actually said you wanted.”

“My hero.” There was a pause. “Hurry?”

Wild horses couldn’t have stopped Steve when he knew what was waiting for him at the office and he clutched the phone tighter, dodging a dog sniffing at a streetlamp and a cyclist hurtling towards him. “I’m coming. Five minutes. Less than, even.”

“Good. I’ve already been waiting too long.”

[stxrrywildflower]

for better or for worse (1)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - when the people they love the most are kidnapped and ripped out of their hands, the bau does everything they can to get them back before it turns dire

warnings - mentions of case, angst

series masterlist

“please head home and get some rest! we’ve had a long couple of weeks and you all deserve a night off,” emily called from the catwalk.

it was one of the rare days the bau team worked an actual 9 to 5. they would be able to go home at night to their respective families at a fairly normal hour instead of the messed up ones due to traveling.

the bullpen was a rush, everyone packing up quickly so they could leave as soon as possible.

“j.j.! any plans for tonight?” coverstion between the agents bounced around easily.

“homework duty and just sitting back and relaxing with my boys,” the blonde agent replied, “how about you rossi?”

“cooking lesson,” the italian man spoke.

the team all looked towards the senior agent. “and we weren’t invited?”

rossi threw his hands up in defense. “hey, there’s always a spot open at my table,” he offered. luke huffed, the thought of italian food already making him hungry.

“alright luke. since you seem to be complaining a lot, what are you doing?”

luke grinned, leaning into garcia slightly. “just relaxing with my two favorite girls,” he answered.

“aw luke! we’re not going to be there tonight,” tara grinned. “sorry ladies, penelope and roxy are all i’ll be with tonight.”

“well leslie and i are just going to watch reruns of jeopardy and nurse a bottle of wine,” tara announced.

“same with me and kristy,” matt agreed.

“spencer?”

“date night,” the genius smiled. matt made mock kissy faces towards spencer. “have fun with y/n,” emily quickly butted in.

“how about you em? you’ve been working extra hard recently. how are you unwinding?”

the unit chief laughed. “i’m taking keely shopping. i promised we would go and tonight just happens to work.”

garcia scoffed, “ugh i’m so jealous.” luke huffed at that. “what? me and roxy aren’t good enough?”

laughter echoed through the room. the team bid their final goodbyes to each other, all eager to head home before they would have to be back again early the next morning. it was incredibly relieving to have the night off for once.

you looked up from your desk to see spencer walk in, suit jacket tossed over his shoulder and bag in hand. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbow too, curls falling on his forehead. “hi sweetheart,” he mused.

“oh my god you’re actually home,” you exclaimed, jumping up to greet him with a kiss to the cheek.

the two of you didn’t pull away, his hands holding your middle while yours rested in the crook of his arm. “i made you a promise didn’t i? i was going to be home so we could actually have a night to ourselves and i promised to follow through.”

“yeah you did,” you replied with a grin. “i was just afraid you were going to get an emergency case and have to leave immediately.”

“i’m guessing that explains why you aren’t ready yet,” spencer commented, motioning down to your outfit of leggings and a sweatshirt. “hey last time i got dolled up you were called out to tennessee. can you blame me for not wanting to waste an hour getting ready?” spencer chuckled at that. “well tonight we can actually go out, no interruptions.”

with one final kiss to your lips, spencer pushed you towards your room to get ready for your date.

you were ready pretty soon if that, clothes were already layed out and hair and makeup didn’t take long. spencer remained in his work clothes as they were formal enough.

“well let me just say it was worth the wait,” spencer spoke when you appeared once again in the living room, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. you scrunched your nose at the compliment, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “thank you.”

“i’m ready to go when you are,” you announced. spencer finished slipping the final things, just his wallet and phone, into his pockets before taking your hand in his. “let’s head out, i really don’t want to miss our reservations.”

at the restaurant, you were shown to your table almost immediately. after ordering drinks, you decided what to order on the menu before setting it down.

conversation eased easily between the two of you. thankfully, you kept the topic off of work. spencer’s phone buzzed on the able and for a split second, you panicked thinking it was work. thankfully, it was just the team in their groupchat.

“hey look, the team is all sending pictures of their night off,” spencer spoke, handing you his phone. you, in turn, scrolled through the messages.

there was garcia and roxy, all curled up on the couch in comfy clothes ready to watch a movie. leslie was in front of the tv, holding a glass of wine. kristy’s photo was almost the same, though the show was different. there was keely in front of a store, shopping bags in hand. will was next, michael situatiated on his lap as they worked through some homework. and finally was krystall who was cooking over the stove.

“alright now it’s your turn,” spencer held your his phone to take a picture. you smiled at the camera, the restaurant as your background. “and sent, no more distractions for the rest of the night.”

you took a sip out of your wine glass before raising it up. “amen to that,” you said as the two of you clinked glasses.

dinner was perfect, the restaurant never disappointing as it was one of your favorites. you took your time heading home, savoring the time you were together. but finally, you did arrive back at your apartment.

you kissed him goodnight, letting your lips linger for a little longer. “i love you,” you spoke.

spencer leaned down to kiss you once more. “i love you too,” he confirmed.

he went home with a smile on his face.

the following morning at work, the mood was a lot different.

“hey have any of you seen penelope?” luke asked. “i brought her lunch but i can’t find her anywhere. she’s not in her office either.”

“aw lukie! look at you being a good boyfriend,” j.j. mused, ruffling luke’s hair. a grin found its way to the agents face. “but no, i haven’t seen her yet. weren’t you two together last night?”

“yeah but she went back to her place,” luke explained.

emily’s phone was the first to ring.

the unit chief didn’t bother looking at the caller i.d. and instead hit answer right away. “hello?”

“emily? do you know where my dad is? he’s supposed to drive me to school today but isn’t in the house. i’ve tried his cell and he hasn’t answered but i don’t know if he had to go into work early and was just going to leave and get me,” keely rushed out.

all the blood seemed to rush out of emily’s face. first penelope and now andrew. it couldn’t be a coincidence that both of them weren’t where they should be.

“hey, i’m going to call you out of the school today. i’ll send an agent down to pick you up and bring you to the bau. can you pack a bag?” emily asked. keely replied with a simple, “yes” before the two hang up.

“anderson!” emily called.

as the agent was briefed on his mission, matt and j.j.’s phone rang at almost the exact same time, both from their individual schools. j.j. bit her knuckle, a sign that the news was less then good.

“will was supposed to drop the kids off at school today. neither of them showed up,” the blonde agent announced. matt ran his hand through his hair, similar results on his end as well. kristy was supposed to do the same as will, though she didn’t show up either.

emily stopped anderson from leaving, adding on new orders to stop by the jareau and simmons homes after getting keeli. anderson agreed, leaving with matt to go get the kids.

“leslie isn’t answering her phone,” tara stayed. rossi quickly added on, “‘neither is krystall.”

spencer desperately hoped that his own phone wouldn’t ring. but it did, the obnoxious ringtone blaring in his pocket. “hello?” he answered weakly.

your friend/boss was on the other line. he was down as your emergence contact, hence why she had his number. “hey spencer, y/n didn’t call out sick from work today and hasn’t showed up. do you know anything?”

“yeah y/n’s sick,” he lied, not quite sure what to say other then that. “i’m not quiet sure when she’ll be better though.”

“alright send her my best. she’s got a lot of sick days so just don’t rush her return. thanks again.”

spencer remained silent, trying to process that fact that your fate was matching the others.

“everyone go to their apartments or homes. there’s no way all seven of them just disappeared. j.j., you and i will stay here. anderson will let us know if anything is missing,” emily commanded. “we’ll regroup in thirty minutes.”

the team all left in a rush. a record could have been set for the number of traffic laws broken on their individual drives.

spencer parked his car as quickly as possible. he yanked the keys out of ignition, fumbling with them until your apartment key was in his hand.

inside your apartment was as clean as it was yesterday. the only thing out of place was your coffee mug in the sink, already finished and just waiting to be washed. other than that, almost nothing was different.

the table was what captivated spencer’s attention. a present was sitting in the center, looking extremely out of place in contrast to the rest of your home. spencer didn’t have time to investigate, needing to alert emily.

with the box in hand, he left the apartment once more to drive back to the bau.

anderson and matt arrived just minutes after the rest of the team. henry and keely were walking in the own, the older girl keeping an eye on him. michael was situated on anderson’s back, looking more then joyed to be getting a piggyback ride. matt has rosemary tucked firmly in his arms, baby carrier by his side while david, jake, chloe, and lily all followed.

rossi releaved the younger agent by taking the youngest out of his hands. “i’ll take the carrier and put her down in my office,” he offered. matt thanked him quietly, keeping his eyes in the other kids while the senior agent headed up to the catwalk.

emily and j.j. went up to her own office, letting keely and the two boys sit in there. “we’re going to find your dad,” emily reassured the young girl. keely managed to muster a smile, relaxing further into the plush chair behind the desk.

while anderson took matt’s kids down to morgan’s old office, the team headed up to the conference room.

“alright,” emily started. “did any of you find anything?”

the room was quiet as everyone dug through their individual bags. seven identical boxes were pulled out, white squares with red ribbon.

“i haven’t opened it yet,” spencer revealed. the others agreed, all to nervous to see what was inside. emily and j.j. frowned, anderson had given them the same two items upon return.

with shaky hands, spencer was the first one to tug at the string. the four sides fell back with ease, only the top remained. the genius pulled the top off, eyes brows immediately furrowing with confusion.

inside was a phone, more specifically your own cell phone. the screen was cracked, making the screen almost impossible to see. the greatest concern was the blood on the back.

spencer held down the power button for a moment, the white apple start up screen flashing back at him. your usual background, a photo of you and him at one of rossi’s dinner parties, was replaced with a black screen. upon further inspection, the word ‘love’ was in dark letters.

“mine says love,” luke announced, holding up penelope’s usual sparkly iphone. “mine too,” tara agreed. everyone else pushed the phones towards the center, all cracked, all with a bit of blood, and all with the word ‘love’ on the lock screen.

it was like you had all vanished.

you were gone. and the team had absolutely no idea where any of you went.

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @zozoleesi @emilyxprentiss @spencerreidfanatic00 @mrs-dr-reid @irjuejjsaa @ogmilkis @sageellesworth05 @mortallythoughtfulgurl @brainyreid @ah-blossom @kissessforharryyy @ssareidbby @spencersglasses @spenciepoo338

[alionne]

5 | Deliberate (free write)

Sequel to Scale, because my brain really didn’t want to stop thinking about this. Spoilers for Stormblood. Cursing and flirting but no smut... yet. 3284 words.

He hears her coming, of course.

Estinien had heard her the first time, too, with the pugilist girl, one of the Scions he hadn’t met. Not that he needed to meet any more of them, mind you. The ones he’d encountered were bad enough.

‘Bad’ may not be the right word, he admits to himself, but he’d already helped them on this little trip, there was no need to start doling out compliments, too. 

If anything, the cannon had been a welcome challenge. He doesn’t miss killing dragons, nor the rage surging through him each time he fought, but… he is the Azure Dragoon. He has power, and though he’d been trying to direct that power in a peaceable direction, lately, it’s pleasing when problems can be solved with his lance alone.

Of course, the problem with power is that there are all too many parties with an interest in how you use it. The cannon was one thing—what was he supposed to do, just let them all get shot to death?��but linger too long and he’d soon be on the receiving end of a tedious speech about duty and the future of Eorzea, and then he’d have to watch Alphinaud’s disappointment when he turned him down. And then probably sit through another lecture, because the boy was stubborn as all hell.

No, Estinien had come to Gyr Abania for one thing—the eyes of Nidhogg, which were his responsibility, and had somehow floated up from below the Steps of Faith and ended up here. Somewhere.

So he was lying low. After dodging the Imperials’ bullets, he’d set for the highest landmark he could find—an ancient ship, whose origins he did not know. It was a passable hideout, particularly since some ancient guardian attacked him as he approached. Estinien had dispatched it easily enough, but it fought with a ferocity that suggested that commoners and soldiers alike would avoid this place.

But of course, not a day later, he’d heard someone climbing the cliff—his cliff, he’d thought, stubbornly. Whoever it was was talking too loudly to be searching for an errant dragoon, though. Tucked away behind the ruined vessel, he’d waited until it seemed they were facing away, then stole a look.

Of course it was her. Who else would turn up on the very rock Estinien was hiding if not the bloody Warrior of Light, accompanied by yet another Scion of the Seventh Dawn? Still, they weren’t looking for him. They’d probably come to inspect the Garlean outpost and figure out why it wasn’t firing at them. If Estinien stayed out of sight, they’d figure it out soon enough and leave him be.

He hadn’t chanced a second look. Alionne was too bloody perceptive, sometimes, and who knew what powers the other girl had. Still, he could hear snippets of their conversation, when the wind was right— or rather, he could hear the one girl’s chatter, and then the occasional pause, when Alionne was presumably nodding in response. 

She’d looked… quite lovely, he thought, mulling over his brief glance as he waited for them to leave. She’d exchanged her heavier Coerthan outfit for something more befitting the desert, and it revealed a great deal more of her form. She’d looked stronger, too, although mayhaps it was simply her outfit, exposing more muscle to admire. Still, even Estinien, who had been avoiding people for moons now, had heard of Doma’s miraculous rebellion. The whole thing reeked of Scion meddling, and where the Scions went, so too went the Warrior of Light, so she’d likely honed her skills on some far eastern magitek.

He’d love to examine her more… thoroughly. Certainly, their last dalliance suggested she’d be amenable, but a few conversations prior to his departure suggested that Aymeric had finally found his balls and was going to ask her out, properly. And while he was fairly sure he’d be welcome in that arrangement, it did mean she could lecture him on both the Scions’ and Ishgard’s behalf, and no potential dalliance was worth that mess.

It’s good to see her, though. Since leaving Ishgard, the only familiar face he’d seen was Hraesvaelgr's, and as… interesting as that encounter had been, there was a comfort in seeing his friends here, even if from a distance. Alphinaud, he’d spotted leaving the rubble of the tower, which was a relief, considering the carnage that had befallen it. And here is Alionne, equally uninjured. He’d done a good day’s work at Castrum Abania.

He hates to leave a job unfinished—that was what had led to him tramping all over Gyr Abania in the first place, unfinished business—so when the Scions finally leave Estinien’s rock, he lingers. No doubt, the imperials will be hard at work repairing their weapon. The Resistance seems savvy enough to press the advantage, but he’d like to see things ended for himself. Besides, if they successfully eliminate the outpost, the Resistance will claim the entire region, and Estinien will be able to leave more easily, dodging only one army, and a much less bloodthirsty one, at that.

So he keeps an eye to the south as he sets up a camp. Movement suggests repairs to the ceruleum pipeline are indeed underway, but the cannon barrel stays put. By mid-afternoon, Estinien is dozing slightly, which is why he’s caught off-guard when there’s suddenly a large hole in the glass window of the castrum’s command room. On instinct, he leaps to his feet, grabbing his lance, before he realizes that whatever’s happened, it’s hardly something he can leap off and address. He sits back down, watching the outpost more closely. 

In the next few minutes, the small dots moving to and from the broken pipeline suddenly cease. They’ve stopped repairing the pipeline, then. Well, that’s as sure a sign as any that the Resistance have done something. Pushed someone out a window, it seems.

No further activity comes from the castrum as night falls, and Estinien slowly relaxes. The cannon is dealt with, so he can resume his search for the Eyes. He doesn’t know how much aether remains in them after such a powerful summoning, but he’s confident he’ll recognize their signature, no matter how faint. He’d sensed nothing from the Resistance camps, so they were probably in the hands of the Garleans—besides, if the Eorzean Alliance had found the Eyes of Nidhogg, Aymeric himself would probably have arrived by now, bloody guilt complex the man carries.

So, East, then, to occupied territory, where the Resistance themselves are no doubt headed. And, assuming he finds the Eyes, perhaps further East, after that. No Eorzean had seen anything like the great dragon summoned over Baelsar’s Wall, but Estinien had found a tome of Far Eastern lore depicting such creatures. With Eorzea’s dragon troubles mostly-sorted, Estinien might be more useful in other parts of the world.

It would be a nice change, too, from this endless desert. Even Coerthas was more than snow, once you got far enough out. This… he’d never begrudge the Ala Mhigans their homeland, but it could do with a bit more color. And Estinien had heard that the hot springs in Kugane rivaled those of Ishgard.

He’s nearly drifted off, imagining it, when a familiar sound brings him to full alertness. The whistle of a rope, tossed over a hold, the scrape of shoes on stone. Someone is climbing his cliff, and a great deal more quietly than the Scions earlier.

Or… not that quietly, he amends, hearing a muttered curse. Not a stealth mission, then. Mayhaps the Resistance had sent a scout. Or a desperate Imperial was climbing to high ground, looking for intel.

Well. He was very good at hiding in the shadows. He would watch them from here. If it was a Resistance member, he’d stay out of sight, and they would never be the wiser. If it was an Imperial… well, they wouldn’t see him, or anything else, for that matter.

Silently, Estinien tucks his few belongings away, glad he hadn’t started a fire—there will be no trace of his presence if he leaps away. He hefts his lance, eyeing the cliff’s edge. The moon was near-full, so whoever it was hadn’t needed a torch. Or they knew the cliff well. Or they were desperate.

Or… a hand grasps the edge of the cliff, and Estinien stares at it a moment, trying to figure out why he recognizes a hand and, Halone’s swiving teats, it’s the Warrior of Light, of course it is, because Alionne is too lucky, or persistent, or something for her own good.

Estinien is frozen in indecision. Is she here for him? The imperials knew their cannon had been destroyed by just one man, and the Resistance likely had spies among them, given the lack of an all-out assault on the castrum. There weren’t many men who could single-handedly cause that much damage, and as much pride as that brings Estinien, the Scions might have guessed his presence. Although that didn’t explain why she knew he’d be here, on this particular rock… it could be another reason. She’d been here before, perhaps she was scouting something. He could jump away, while she wasn’t looking, and she’d never know he was here. He could do it now, in fact…

Which is fair strange, because he’s been staring at her unmoving fingers for far longer than it should have taken for her to climb up over the edge. What is she doing? What kind of person climbs a cliff (my cliff, Estinien thinks mutinously), just to stop, right at the end? Is she hurt? Is she daft?

He’s taken a few steps towards her before he even notices, and that, more than anything, makes the decision for him. He’d been granted a second chance at life, and he’d vowed, upon waking, to make the most of it. For some reason, Alionne Bloody Ralnara is climbing his cliff in the middle of the night. Might as well see why.

In three strides, he’s at the edge, and he reaches down and grabs her—a little rougher than he means to, but maybe it will shake free whatever daydream has left her hanging from a cliff, like an idiot.

“Only a fool would climb a cliffside like this at night,” he grumbles as he pulls her up. 

Irritatingly, his gruffness seems to calm her. “And only a fool would be waiting at the top,” she informs him, and he lets go of her wrist immediately.

They stare at each other, taking in the changes of the last few moons. Alionne eyes his new armor, and Estinien admires how fetchingly her dress sits atop her collarbones. Still, he’s suspicious, and that isn’t helped by the satisfied look she’s giving him.

When she doesn’t speak, he folds his arms. “Well? Out with it, then.” 

Alionne gives him a curious look, and Estinien huffs. He hates this conversation already. She’s far too good at making him do the talking.

“You must have come all this way for something,” he points out. “Come to plead your case for the Resistance, then?”

Her gaze sharpens in disapproval. “No, actually,” she retorts. “I just missed you.”

Estinien’s traitor heart flares up beneath his breastplate, and he has no idea what to do with the feeling. “You climbed up a hundred-yalm cliff—which you shouldn’t have known I was on, mind you—because you missed me.” And now they’re glaring at each other, which doesn’t make any sense, she just got here.

“I saw you, from Castrum Abania,” Alionne informs him coldly. “Or, I thought I did. And I thought I might see if my friend, the one who might have destroyed an entire cannon for us, was still here.”

Ascending cliffs on the chance that friends might be present is not logical behavior, in Estinien’s opinion, but he also doubts arguing the point will get them anywhere. Which is why he hates talking.

“You let me find you,” adds Alionne, “so clearly, you missed me too.” And… gods, how had she read him so easily? He hadn’t realized it himself, until she’d said it, but something in him had warmed just because she was here.

And just like that, she’s won their conversation, and Estinien never had any chance, did he? She could ask him to assassinate Lord Zenos now, and he’d be too outmaneuvered to refuse. 

“How did you become an expert in my emotions?” Estinien grumbles. It’s a concession more than a question, so he’s surprised when she answers him honestly.

"Oh, Aymeric told me,” she says, flashing him a smile, and Estinien is not qualified to interpret whatever feeling thrums in him at that revelation. “Estinien's fast,” she quotes, “so if you catch him, it’s because he’s let you. He said it’s how you show affection.”

It’s maddeningly accurate, and of course Aymeric is the one to have figured that out, he’d chased after Estinien often enough in their youth. But what has Estinien wanting to fling himself off the cliff edge is that he’s never noticed. Self-reflection has never been his strongest suit, but he’d thought he’d improved at it, lately, and yet, here Aymeric is, slicing him open from half a continent away.

“Alionne,” says Estinien, wearily. “Please stop telling me things about myself.”

She drops the subject (and why wouldn’t she, she’s already won) and looks over his shoulder curiously. “Where have you made camp, then? I thought I might join you.”

A suggestive remark sits on Estinien’s tongue, but he’s off-balance, and isn’t sure he wants to make it. “Pick wherever you like,” he sighs, instead. 

And so, he finds himself helping the Warrior of Light set up a much more elaborate camp than he’d planned. He’s not sure when he went from leaning against the ship, arms crossed, to arranging rocks that will protect a small fire from the wind. “If there are any imperials left, we’ll draw them straight to us,” he complains. 

Alionne raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to point out how ridiculous he sounds, and he scowls. Just because he’s lost doesn’t mean he has to lose gracefully.

“Have you had the chance to sample any of the local fare?” Alionne asks, ignoring his complaint. She pulls a tin from her bags, and sets it atop the fire to warm. “The bread is a little tough, but the stews are hearty, and the Resistance cooks seem to find ample herbs to spice them with, no matter where we camp.”

“I have not.” Where is she heading with this?

“Well, I have enough for two,” she says, smiling, and just like that, he’s out of patience for playing house, or whatever they’re doing.

“Alionne,” he bites out. “Why are you here.”

Her eyes search his face, more calculating than angry, and then she fixes him with a serious look. “I told you. I missed you, and I thought you might be here. So I came to see.”

Which doesn’t answer the real question in the slightest. “And now that you’ve seen me.”

“Now, I’d like to see what you think of this stew. And if you like, I can tell you about my time in Doma. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to thank you for destroying that cannon, because you saved a great many lives.”

She’s open, and honest, and there’s no way it can be that simple. “Do you have. Questions.”

She seems to genuinely consider it before shaking her head. “You seem to be dreading anything I could ask, so, no. I will hear anything you wish to share, but I will not ask anything of you.”

He catches her phrasing. Not, I will not ask you anything, but, I will not ask anything of you. No expectations. No requests, from well-intentioned Scions or Resistance leaders or… Aymerics. The tension drains from him, and he is only slightly annoyed at how quickly he’s trusted her.

Not that he hadn’t before. But before, he’d trusted her to watch his back, and to not make things too awkward if they ever had a falling-out. Now, he knows she won’t push, where it’s not welcome. That she’ll respect his choices, whatever they may be.

Shite, he trusts her with his heart, as awkward and starry-eyed as that sounds. He’ll be mooning over her, next. Or mayhaps he already is, since he’s been silent for far too long, now, and Alionne’s still looking at him intently, as though the longer she stares, the more he’ll believe her declaration of good faith.

“...Thank you,” he manages, stumbling only slightly, and her gentle smile warms him all the way through. And mayhaps this conversation was never one to be won, or lost.

Well, if that’s the case, he’s been an unsociable bastard. Estinien stares at the fire until he feels capable of stringing sentences together and being... well, not charming, but maybe— civil. “In light of your promise, this request is markedly unfair, but may I ask you questions?”

Alionne, who has been politely giving him space, suddenly beams. “I would be delighted.”

“In that case,” says Estinien, allowing himself to smirk at her. “Would you share your stew with me, then, and tell me of your time in Doma?”

The stew is remarkably flavorful, and tender, compared to the dried foodstuffs and hastily-roasted meats he’s been eating, lately. Though it is no doubt enhanced by the company, as Alionne tells him of pirates and shinobi, of underwater villages and nomadic warrior tribes. She keeps the tale light, even though Estinien knows it must have been far more difficult for the Scions than she lets on. He’s thankful—he doesn’t think he has the stomach for serious conversation, not unless she’s brought some spirits to accompany the stew. Besides, because it’s not important that he focus on the details, he can admire the way Alionne’s eyes flicker in the firelight.

Eventually, they’ve eaten their fill, and a comfortable silence stretches between them. When Estinien thinks of what he’d expected to do this night (very little), a deep thrum of satisfaction curls in his belly, powerful enough to take him by surprise. Until these last few moons, Estinien has never been indulgent, too focused on vengeance and discipline. His recent ventures have been instructive, and this night most of all.

“May I ask another question?” he asks her.

“If I haven’t been clear enough,” says Alionne, playfully exasperated, “you may ask me anything you like, Estinien, and I will do my best to answer it.”

For a moment, Estinien considers asking something embarrassing, but he quickly discards the impulse. There’s only one question he really wants to ask, anyway. 

He gestures to their campground. “Did you come here just to talk?”

Alionne sends him another calculating look. Estinien returns it, confidently. He’d made his choice when he’d grabbed her wrist. “That depends on whether there’s more on offer,” she says, eventually, and Estinien can feel the space between them narrowing.

Wait. First things first. He leans backward, not breaking the mood, but prolonging it. “Have you and Aymeric talked, yet?”

Alionne’s gaze goes distant, and softer, which answers Estinien’s question before she speaks. “We’ve talked a great deal, yes. As you suspect, some of it was about you. Neither of us is promised to the other exclusively, if that is your meaning.” 

Something about her tone suggests that Aymeric and Alionne have been uncomfortably forthright about their feelings, in a way that Estinien can’t consider right now without bolting, but luckily, Alionne’s body language suggests she won’t mind cutting the conversation short.

Good. He may be a poor conversationalist, but Estinien is confident he will have the upper hand in this.

[imnotasuperhero]

I would lie and say you’re not in my mind.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Type: Angst.

Summary: Reader finds herself alone, with no explanation as to where Wanda went. And life without her was a true nightmare she could only scape with not-so-nice coping mechanisms.

Wordcount: 2644

Warnings: Drug abuse, one suicidal thought and depression.

A/N: This is my submission for @jbbarnesnnoble writing challenge! I’m so sorry for the delay. Life and work got in the middle, leaving me drained to get some actual writing done. You can search this and other works with the tag #JBBNNMHAMChallenge which deals with different types of mental healt, as to raise awarenes about it.

A/N 2: Since it’s inspired in real events, I decided to twist this and give it a happy ending. People need to know there is hope. No matter how hard life becomes, you’ve got this and you shouldn’t suffer alone. Fight your fear and seek for help. I promise, life is worth living.

A huge than you to @marvelfansince08love for enduring her patience with my rants and mini meltdown about this monster. I could never thank you enough for puting up with my dumb ass, boo. I owe you a lot! <3

If you guys want more, I might have a plot for some kind of spin-off for this story. Just let me know. Also, criticism is welcomed.

"Miss Stark," one of the executives called your attention. "Your nose is bleeding."

Automatically, your fingers found your nose and yup, it was happening. Fucking hell.

Excusing yourself, you left the conference room with rapid steps to the closest bathroom, dismissing whoever you crossed on your way. You weren't new to this, after all.

Once you got the bleeding under control, you inspected yourself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was nothing like your old self. The circles under the eyes needed much more concealing and your smiles were forced. But at least you picked a black blouse today, which it'll do until you got a chance to go back home and change.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" Julia asked sheepishly.

"No. I'm capable of handling the rest of the day," you mumbled as you finished the last touches to your make-up.

"Mr. Stark could find-"

"Mr. Stark will find out shit," you cut your assistant. "This is just a sneeze that caused a vein to pop. Understood?" You could see how the woman in front of you shivered slightly and you almost laugh at it. You've become so pity.

"Y-yes, Miss. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No." You inspected yourself in the mirror once again before walking out. "Go over the rest of my day and make sure you send the informs to Stewart."

Fortunately, the day progressed smoothly with very few bumps. And none of them were about you, so you took it as a victory.

Kicking your high heels after closing the door behind you, you started to strip while walking towards the bathroom. The weekend was finally here, which meant you could wind out and enjoy your own company. After the latest events on Beto's, you made sure to lay low for a while. You didn't need another clingy bitch hanging from you all the time. You were just a gal wanting to have some release. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the middle of your calming bath, the sharp razor you kept for emergencies caught your eyes. 'God, it'd be so easy.' You thought to yourself. Just a little line in the right place would do it. The consuming pain would disappear and you'd be free. Hell, maybe you'd find her again in the afterlife.

Before you could continue the line of thoughts, your phone rang with your dad's personalized ringtone. Something you made sure of for when you were doing not-so-nice activities.

"Hey, dad." You absentmindedly sank deeper in the tub. The bubbly water covering up to under your jaw.

"Hi, Peanut." Tony's voice soothed your damaged soul the littlest bit. "It's been a while. How are you?"

"I'm fine," you answered nonchalantly. Lying has become second nature by now. "Living the life. How are you guys?"

"That's what I called you about. Pepper and I want you to come to spend the weekend here. We barely see you outside work so we thought it'd be nice to take advantage of the long weekend. Pleeeeaaase? With a cherry on top?" He finished in a child's voice and you felt your heart squeeze itself.

Truth was, you were tired of lying all the time. You were tired of faking and saying you were okay when you weren't.

"Okay," you sighed. 

"Yay!" Yup, he was a child. "We'll get your room ready. We'll have your favorite."

You didn't know the exact moment you started crying, your dad going a mile a minute talking about his latest invention and how he'd love for you to help him figure out the last touches.

Hanging up, you finally let out the awaiting sobs. Memories of an easier -and happier- time plaguing your mind, making it harder and harder to breathe. Life without her sucked balls.

After drying yourself and throwing on a fresh pair of pajamas, you quickly fixed your bag for the weekend, knowing fully well you'll wake up with just the right spare time before you had to leave for your dad's.

The next morning, you woke up before your alarm went off, which would be fine if it weren't for Wanda appearing in your dreams. Promises of a better life and reaching milestones together, fanning the painful fire in your heart.

Walking to your stash, you retrieved the white powder, forming three consecutive lines on your nightstand. A small straw between your fingers ready to be used. You wouldn't be able to consume when you were at your dad's, so you better took your chance before it was too late. Odin knew you needed the boost.

Stopping at a random café a few blocks from your home, you quickly got yourself a black coffee and a muffin before hitting the pedal once again, changing the playlist to something more upbeat. 

Soon enough, your mind drifted to the impromptu road trips you'd do with Wanda. Sometimes even a week-long trip. Just the two of you apart from the chaos of your lives. 

Out on the road, it was only laughs, music, and fast food with the occasional make-out sessions. God, if you could, you'd live in the past forever. 

Stepping out of your car, you couldn't help the smile that broke your face. Working in the same place as your dad didn't mean you've got to see him every day. And being honest, you were happy he offered you scape from her curse.

"Hi, dad." You answered once you reached him, returning his hug. And boy, didn't you felt safe in those strong arms. They never failed to soothe you.

After what seemed like hours of walking around your dad's property, you and Pepper came back to the house ready for a refreshing iced tea. But any trace of a nice calming bath dissipated away when you say your dad standing in the middle of the living room, his face stoic.

"What's this?" The quietness of his voice freezing your blood.

"I'm waiting, Y/N." 

You cringed at your dad's voice. The disappointment showing in his eyes made you regret not checking before you grabbed a random bag for this trip.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me this is not what I think it is," he begged, showing you and Pepper the almost empty baggy between his fingers. And you ignored him. He already knew the truth, after all. "Say it," he growled.

"So the bleeding nose-"

"Screw you," you muttered, cutting Pepper mid-sentence.

"Hey! That's no way to talk to her,"

"You know what?" You walked to your dad, looking up to his eyes. "Yes, I'm an addict. Good job, Sherlock. Now you can get rid of me as you did with my mom. After all, you never wanted me in the first place, so why should it matter." You snapped with burning tears in your eyes. "There's no need to keep faking it anymore." You walked away, leaving them mouth agape, trying to process your words.

Plopping down on your bed, you couldn't help the feeling of failure igniting inside you. The tears in your eyes burning your eyes as they appeared, flowing down your cheeks as the sadness and emptiness became just too much to handle.

You didn't remember when was the last time you were genuinely happy. And it sucked that it depended on someone. It sucked and you despised it more than anything. But then again, Wanda was everything you'd need to live in this world. Always positive, with a smile so bright that could light up the darkest room. Her eyes? God, you loved losing yourself in those green orbs of hers in the afterglow. And now you had to live without all these little things that made you happy. All the little moments of joy were gone, tuning you into this sack of bones and flesh, with no expectations for life.

It wasn't till much later that night that you left your room, after ignoring your dad's callings.

Padding your way to the bar, you served yourself a whiskey. The burning on your troat a welcomed feeling. Your mind going back to her, as it was the normalcy since she dusted away, leaving you with thousands of questions and a hole in your heart that you knew well you could never fill again. How could you, when you knew she was it? how could you even try to patch it up, when you knew there was no one else like her?

One whiskey turned into 5 and you didn't know when you started to cry, considering you thought there were no tears left after all these years. But the strong hand on your shoulder made you snap from your pity party, hurriedly drying your tears. Crying was for the weak, and boy were you weak.

"I'm sorry," you drowned the last of your drink before looking up, mustering the best stoic face you could.

"You don't need to fake around me, Peanut. We're family," your dad poured you another drink as he got one himself. 

"Look, what happened with your mother has nothing to do with you." He continued once he sat beside you. "And I would never leave you alone, Y/N. No matter how many headaches you give me." He joked but composed himself when you didn't react to it. "I- Pepper is pregnant. And we really want you in the baby's life. But.. Look, if there was a way to bring her back, I would. In a heartbeat. But Y/N, you have to understand, she wouldn't like this version of you. If not for yourself, do it for us,"

You wanted to speak, you wanted to answer him. But the lump in your throat was too big to swallow and the knife in your heart twisted when you saw your dad's eyes tearing up. And fuck did it hurt. To see him cry -for the first time- pained you like hell. And knowing you were the cause of those tears made you feel like you were the worst person alive. 

"I-," you paused to gather your bearings, but your dad beat you to it.

"I know, Peanut," his arms surrounded you in that way that only him could.

"I promise you," he continued once you broke away. "One day, it will get easier. Those feelings will never fully go away, but it will get easier." He dried your tear-stained cheeks softly. "You are not alone. And she'll always be with you,"

 And despite the grief eating you from the inside, you knew you had to live. For them. For her.

The next few months had been a true rollercoaster. You didn't know the abstinence would affect you so badly. And while others would have it much worse, you couldn't help the change of moods and the few tears you caused to those around you. Not to mention, the significant drop in your moods. But you also knew better. You've kept your word, and you hadn't touched it again. 

Under Natasha's supervision, you got rid of every secret stash you had at both, your apartment and your office, and you deleted the number of your dealer. And even if sometimes it seemed like hell would manifest itself as Nat was your watcher, you couldn't be more glad because, admittedly, the woman had balls and she did knew how to bribe you, to the point that you'd even quit drinking even if it was more of a social addiction, in your case. That, mixed with Natasha's friendship and support -as well as those around you- and the birth of Morgan, your little sister had you believing once more, even if you knew you'd never get to be the same person you once were. 

The little bundle of joy had come to this world with a few rays of sunshine for you, finally opening your eyes and making you realize that there was hope. Even if you never saw her again, life was worth living and you'd live it for her at your best capacity. 

So when Pepper asked you to babysit Morgan for a few days, considering she couldn't bring a 2 months old baby with her, you accepted in a heartbeat.

But as you were awoken by a fussing Morgan, after an eventful night in which you barely slept, you realized this might've not been your brightest idea.

Inhaling deeply, you got up and walked to her room, picking her up from her crib and rocking her as you made your way to the kitchen. Babies were a fucking clock. Which only served to add to your decision of never having kids. 

If you were on the verge of tears most of the time, wishing deeply for her parents to come back so you could have time for yourself, you knew you'd be mental if you had to live through this for the rest of your life.

Your ears catching the front door opening made you stop mid singing, turning around as you walked to the hushed words as you feed a calmed down Morgan just to stop dead in your tracks when you saw her. The only reason you stood still, was the baby in your arms. 

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for a sign that this was just a dream. That the image of your girlfriend was just a projection of your mind, like so many other times before during these 5 years since she disappeared from your arms. But the silence surrounding you all and 8 pairs of eyes inspecting you made you realize that this wasn't a dream.

The cries of Morgan took you all from your reverie and soon, Pepper was by your side, taking the baby from your arms before kissing the top of your head, something she always did whenever you felt unsettled.

"Peanut-"

"Is she real?" You questioned as you scrutinized a fidgety Wanda, who stood by the door, ready to run away if needed.

Natasha could sense your turmoil growing with every single second that passed and soon enough you felt a strong pair of arms supporting you, ready to catch you if you fell.

"She's here, Maliska. We brought her back," she spoke quietly, making sure you understood her words.

The wild thoughts on your mind got you walking towards her. The need to touch her and prove yourself that she was back, got your fingers itching. You could feel the blood running in your ears and you shaking steps as you got closer to who you thought was gone forever, leaving you empty and moving through life like a zombie.

The choke that broke through you when your hand cupped her cheek got you smiling as tears rolled down with every erratic thump of your heart.

"You're here," you whispered, afraid of breaking the spell you've found yourself into. 

But you couldn't stay in that thought for long because an intimately familiar pair of arms surrounded you as Wanda threw yourself at you, hiding her face on the crook of your neck.

Feeling her hot breath against your skin was all you needed to finally give in and hold her with all you had, knowing that she was here; with you.

You didn't know how long you both stood there, holding each other and basking in the calmness that surrounded you. All your previous tormenting thoughts dissipated in that exact moment. Wanda was back and you found the hole in your heart start to fill itself.

"Hi, Printsessa," Wanda murmured against your neck, kissing her way up to your jaw, peppering your face with kisses before she finally kissed your lips. And boy, did your knees trembled.

After 5 long years, the lips you've got used to kissing whenever you pleased were once against yours, igniting all the love and hope and good things you got to feel once upon a time.

You can find the continuation, here (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @wannabe-fic-reader @natasha-danvers @jumbojamba47 @rooskaya-yelena @sananabdliw @aaron-despair @username23345 @nate-the-dreamer @higherfurther-romanova

[intheseautumnhands]

Sorting The Last 5 Years

Hello I’m back with yet more tiny fandom sorting because I have Thoughts and also, Feelings. Let’s talk about The Last 5 Years, which has ranked consistently among my favorite all-time musicals for so very, very long, and has such great characters for dissecting.

First some brief housekeeping: This is based specifically off the script for the stage show, and the cast recording version by Norbert Leo Butz and Sherie Rene Scott in 2002. I have not been lucky enough to see this live. I also promise no consistency with the movie because I just... nope, sorry, don’t like it. I think I remember things being consistent enough that this’d probably be good for both, but I’m not gonna try to include movie-based thoughts.

Second: I am not purposefully getting into the great “who was at fault” debate but I think my thoughts on them as characters makes it clear that I think both of them have flaws, and that while Jamie crossed a lot more lines at the end, neither of them are blameless for the relationship’s issues. SHC is always kinda YMMV, but even moreso than usually, if you’re really biased towards one side or the other, we probably read these characters very differently. Which is cool and I’d love to hear other opinions! But I will not be surprised if we disagree somewhere along the line.

I’m going to do this slightly different than usual -- since we’ve only got two characters to talk about, and I want to discuss how their houses bounce off each other, I’m going to go by house instead of discussing by character. In addition, I’m going to go Secondary first, because I have a lot I want to say about their Primaries.

Secondaries

In his second song of the show, Jamie tells us exactly how he approaches life: 

But I say no, no, whatever I do I barrel on through, and I don’t complain No matter what I try, I’m flying full speed ahead.... Things might get bumpy, but Some people analyze every details Some people stall when they can’t see the trail Some people freeze out of fear that they’ll fail But I keep rolling on

If I had to pull out one singular moment to crystallize how he approaches things, that’d be it. Jamie doesn’t bother to stop and consider or change his approach. He sees what he wants, and he goes for it, and he’s lucky enough that that works out really, really well for him. And even when it’s a response to hardship, that’s still his approach. Just look at I Could Never Rescue You: so we could fight, or we could wait, or I could go. He decides there’s nothing else worth trying, calls someone else to help him leave, and goes.

Even when it’s not the best idea right now, when tempering what he has to say might help him get what he wants (If I Didn’t Believe In You) he doesn’t do it.  Jamie charges, he’s stubborn, he’s set on what he wants -- he’s a pretty intense Lion, in other words.

Cathy tries to go after what she wants, too, but she ends up with several more obstacles in her way. While a lot of that is luck of the draw, she’s also a little more hesitant overall. Look at her running internal monologue throughout Climbing Uphill, second-guessing every decision (why’d I pick these shoes, why’d I pick this song, why’d I pick this career).  In The Schmuel Song Jamie alludes to the same hesitance: maybe it’s just that you’re afraid to go out onto a limb(-o-vitch), maybe your heart’s completely swayed but your head can’t follow through.

She comes off as having that preparedness of a foundational Secondary -- I don’t see any hints of the breathless charge and certainty of a Lion, or the adaptability of a Snake. I honestly think either Bird or Badger would be suitable for her, and could easily be played into in either direction depending on small acting choices.

Absent of other interpretations, I’m going to lean Bird, off that line from Jamie above and some of the little nuances of Sherie’s performances. There’s a lot of frustration that this all isn’t coming more easily that, while it probably has a lot to do with how easily things have come to Jamie, also leans me away from Badger a little bit; but she’s clearly not unwilling to put in the work, and I could absolutely see that interpretation working just as well.

Primaries

Interestingly, Cathy is outright stated as having the traditional Snake-y trait: don’t you think that now’s a good time to be the ambitious freak you are? That’s not why I’m going to say that Cathy’s a Snake Primary, and Jamie’s clearly got ambitions too, but it does make me smile a little.

Loyalist Cathy’s earliest (timeline-wise) songs are so full of Snake wrap-myself-up-in-my-favorite-person sentiments and lines. Goodbye until tomorrow, goodbye until the rest of my life, and I have been waiting, I have been waiting for you. You don’t have to change a thing, just stay with me. I want you and you and nothing but you, miles and piles of you. I don’t mean to put on any pressure, but I know when a thing is right. Once Jamie’s in her life, that’s it, he’s a priority. It is heartbreaking to go back over this show and realize how much more of what Cathy says is directly about Jamie than the other way around.

Even later on, after we get the first tiny signs of tension, it’s still there. In The Next Ten Minutes: I don’t know why people run, I don’t know why things fall through, I don’t know how anybody survives in this life without someone like you. I could protect and preserve, I could say no and good bye -- but why, Jamie, why? In Summer in Ohio: I found my guiding light, I tell the stars each night, look at me, look at him -- son of a bitch, I guess I’m doing something right.

It’s not even the first time she’s done this. In I Can Do Better Than That, she talks about a previous relationship in the same terms: I gave up my life for the better part of a year. When Cathy gets serious about someone, she makes them her priority,

And that’s what she gets, until that’s all she has, and she lashes out with the exact same thing she wanted at the beginning: you and you, and nothing but you, miles and piles of you. And I don’t think it’s because she didn’t actually want it. It’s because she thought it would be less one-sided.

Because idealist Jamie does put her high in his priorities, but he doesn’t put her first in the same, fixated way. Jamie’s instinctual and set-on-his-decisions Lion Primary chafes against Cathy’s expectation that he’ll put her above what he wants, fed into by that charging, bold instinct from his Secondary.

Which is not to say that Cathy isn’t important to Jamie. But the downfall in their relationship is that what that looks like is so different between the two of them, and they never figure out how to meet middle ground. They’re both unreliable, biased narrators in this story, and neither of them see what the other needs.

A while back, I talked about how different Primaries love. Jamie and Cathy could be case studies in what I said there, and especially in how that love can go bad.

Lion Jamie sees that they both have big dreams, and encourages Cathy to push her way forward on her dreams: Shouldn’t I want the world to see the brilliant girl who inspired me?... Stop temping, and go and be happy! He uses the thing that is most important to him -- his writing -- to encourage her, show her that he sees her hesitance and he believes in her. And when they’re having problems, he puts the blame on how her dreams are going first: Is it just that you’re disappointed to be touring again for the summer? Did you think this would all be much easier than it’s turned out to be?

And that’s where we get, I think, one of the biggest highlights of how they misunderstand each other: If I’m cheering on your side, Cathy, why can’t you support mine? Cathy feels unsupported, Cathy feels like everything has become all about Jamie -- but Jamie feels the same way. The kind of support they need is different, and neither of them see it.

(Even at the height of their love story, the one moment they’re at the same page, The Next Ten Minutes, it says so much to me that Jamie keeps getting these lines about a bigger picture that he and Cathy are just part of: there are so many dreams I need to see with you -- not dreams about them, dreams they can see come true together. I will never change the world, until, I do.)

And Jamie withdraws, and takes her more and more for granted, and steamrolls over her both accidentally -- A Part of That, and Cathy’s fierce declaration of I will not be the girl who gets asked how it feels to be trotting along at the genius’ heels getting disproven in front of her eyes -- and then purposefully, when he decides it’s time to stop trying.

Meanwhile, Snake Cathy sees that as the betrayal. She puts him first, makes him the priority, and when she doesn’t get that in return, she sees it as everything being about Jamie instead of the balance being equal. Fed into by her own ambitions going unfulfilled despite her own best efforts, she clings tighter, until he feels suffocated by it: all that I ask for is one little corner, one private room at the back of my heart, tell her I found one, she sends out battalions to claim it and blow it apart.

Until Jamie leaves, and Cathy is left bitter by it: Jamie is probably feeling just fine. Jamie decides it’s his right to decide. Run away, like it’s simple, like it’s right. Because to her steady, solid foundational Secondary and person-focused Snake, Jamie’s impulsive choice and quick action is cowardice at best, proof he doesn’t care as much at worst.

In summary:

Cathy Hiatt is a Snake Primary/foundational Secondary, either works with the text, but based on OCR, likely Bird.

Jamie Wellerstein is a Double Lion.

And Cathy’s person-first version of support VS Jamie’s dreams-first version of support, and their lack of understanding what each other is trying to provide and needs to recieve, is the entire crux of why their relationship fails, with some help from their uneven amounts of luck in their dream careers.

[reeny-chan]

Sneak Peek at “The Last Hero of Eternia” Chapter 5

I’ve still got a bit of work to do on Chapter 5, but I wanted to share a sneak peak with you all. Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~

“Hey, Catra,” Entrapta said. “Mind going to the engine room and helping Hordak? He hasn’t been feeling too well after the attack. I think he could really use some help, but I’m too busy here.”

Catra stared at her for a moment. Help Hordak? She’d been avoiding him for the past several months. Things hadn’t ended well between them, before Horde Prime’s arrival. 

“Catra?” Entrapta said.

“Uh, sure,” Catra said. “Yeah.” She glanced one more time at Adora, who had again taken to staring off to space, and then left the cockpit.

The walk through the corridor was quiet. The thrumming of the engine grew more pronounced as she continued aft. The floor, while still smooth, metallic, and cool under her soles, vibrated more significantly as she continued on. Near the engine room she crossed the smaller room, to her right, where she’d stayed the first time she’d been on this ship. After Adora and the others had rescued her from Horde Prime. It was that room where she had started, finally, to heal. It was that room where, for the first time in years, she and Adora had spent the night together, sleeping in the same bed.

Despite all the anger she’d felt, how betrayed she’d felt for so long over Adora abandoning their home, abandoning her - it was the first time in years she had actually felt some contentment.

When she refitted the ship, Entrapta had repurposed the room into equipment and tooling storage, and opened the wall between it and the engine room next door. She’d been a bit disappointed to find that out, even though a much more comfortable, if much cozier, room had been built for her and Adora to share, partitioned from the large dormitory located closer to the fore of the ship.

She continued past the room, and the memories it contained, to the engine room. The door opened, and inside she could see Hordak sitting at a control panel. It was a very unusual sight for her. She had never before seen Hordak sitting when he worked. Only when he had been on his throne. His back was to her.

“Um, hi,” she said. He did not look up. “Uh, Entrapta says you need some help?”

He stopped what he was doing and turned his head slightly to the side. She couldn’t see his eyes.

“The second fusible link in the thrust matrix has failed and needs replaced.”

“O - okay,” she said. “And...um...where-?”

“Other end of the room, on the wall. Three cylinders. One of them isn’t glowing. Twist it to remove it, and get a replacement from the storage room.”

“Yeah, okay, on it.”  She headed to the far end of the room, and just as he’d described, there were three cylinders, the diameter and length of each about the same as her torso, with metal caps on the end and a transparent glass-like material in the center. The two on the outside were glowing yellow, but the one in the middle was blinking, as if it were attempting to illuminate but failing.

She reached up, took hold of it with both hands, and attempted to twist it to the right. It wouldn’t budge. She tried a little harder, her hands squeaking against the transparent material, but it didn’t move.

“Other direction,” came Hordak’s voice, a growl that projected over the deep thrumming of the ship’s engine.

Right, she thought, rolling her eyes. You seem waaaay too busy to do this yourself. She took hold of it again and tried twisting it to the left. At first it didn’t move, but then she felt something click. It then turned easily - and almost immediately slipped out of its mounting. She caught it before it could fall, surprise at just how heavy it was. “G-got it,” she said. She set it gently down on the floor, wedging it next to some pipes so it wouldn’t roll away. She walked back toward Hordak. “And, um, where’s-?”

“That way,” Hordak said, pointing at the wall just past where he was seated. 

“Yeah.” She walked past him, opened the door to the storage room, and remembered that this was the room she’d been reminiscing about just a few minutes ago. It smelled differently than she remembered - like chemicals, and metal. None of the scent of her or Adora remained, not that it was surprising.

“Fusible link,” she muttered. “Where would Entrapta hide you?”

Of course, nothing was labeled. She assumed Entrapta had some kind of system of organization that made sense to her, much like her castle at Dryl, where to anyone else it was practically indecipherable.

It took her a good twenty minutes before she finally opened the correct cabinet and found two of the cylinders, standing upright, on an upper shelf. Of course. She looked around for something to stand on, found a white, metallic cube, and pushed it in front of the cabinet. She stood on it, reached up and grabbed one of the two cylinders, pulled the cylinder to her chest, and hugged it tightly as she could while she tried to step back down without breaking an ankle or her neck.

Back in the Engineering room she crossed behind a still-sitting and still-ignoring-her Hordak, made her way to the far end of the room, and gingerly set the cylinder in place of the old one. She had to twist and wiggle it several times until she found the proper orientation for it to slide into place. She twisted it to the right, and after a quarter-turn felt it click into place. It immediately lit up yellow, matching the two cylinders to either side almost perfectly.

“That’s done,” Catra said, rubbing her hands together as she returned to Hordak. 

He did not look at her when he spoke. “Are you simply going to leave the failed cylinder on the floor like so much garbage?”

“I - guess not?” Catra said. “Uh, where-?”

“Reclamation room,” Hordak said. “Other side of the corridor.”

She grimaced at the creature whom she had once served, and twice betrayed, before heading back to retrieve the dead cylinder. As she carried it out of the room she wondered why Hordak couldn’t be bothered to do this physical work. He had his exo suit, which she knew gave him incredible physical strength. Or was he just intentionally being an ass?

Not that she could blame him for that, of course, but it didn’t mean she had to like it.

The room that was apparently the “Reclamation room” was mostly empty, with just a few containers holding what looked like broken components, stripped bolts, and at least one small pile of tiny food wrappers. She hauled the cylinder to the corner, laid it down, and left the room. 

She started heading back to the engine room but stopped. Hordak was already on her nerves. She hadn’t been a fan of him joining them on their “road trip”, and even though that wasn’t what this was, it had so far proven to be every bit as awkward as she’d expected it to be.

She shook her head and sighed. “Be the bigger person,” her therapist had said. “It can be hard, sometimes feeling like the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but it will be worth it in the end.”

Then, of course, she remembered something else. She’d made a goal to herself to make amends with everyone she’d hurt. And while Hordak had done plenty of hurting to her, she had also hurt him. If she was serious about healing, about being a better person, she needed to do it completely.

Sighing, she opened the engine room door and walked up to Hordak.

“I have nothing else for you to do,” Hordak said, still not looking away from the holographic display in front of him. After a hesitation, “Thank you...for replacing the fusible link.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Catra said. She hovered there a moment, took a deep breath, and said, “Listen, Hordak…”

“I am far too busy to ‘chat’,” he said. “Yeah, I get that, but...I just gotta say something, then I’ll leave you alone. I - I’m sorry. For...a lot of things. For betraying you. For...what I did to Entrapta. For lying to you. I was-”

“I don’t need your apologies,” Hordak interrupted. He turned toward her, giving her what she could best describe as a sidelong glance with one of his red, glowing, pupil-less eyes. “Nor have I any desire for them. What’s done is done, and dwelling on it is pointless.”

That statement gave her a little hope...that is, until the next one dashed it.

“You proved to be disloyal, disrespectful, and an opportunist with no regard for your duties or your obligations. You lusted for power - my power, and then Horde Prime’s power, and only by the grace of your…friends’... actions were you protected from the consequences of that.”

His chair turned so he was facing her fully. “I tolerate your presence for Entrapta’s sake. For the sake of She-Ra, who saved my life when she could simply have obliterated me when she obliterated Horde Prime. But do not mistake my tolerance for acceptance. Or forgiveness.” He turned back to his display. “Now leave me be.”

Catra stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Of course, she’d known this could be a possibility. Her therapist had warned her it could be a possibility. But now, having just lived through it, after having put so much work into getting better, into being better…

She turned on a heel and left the engine room without a word. Her feet slapped a steady beat on the deck as she practically marched toward the front of the ship. When she reached the door to her and Adora’s cabin, though, she stopped. She turned to stare at it. The door was blank, with no markings, just like every other door on the ship. When they’d first talked about taking this ship on their “road trip”, she’d imagined herself scratching caricatures of herself and Adora into it, much like those she’d scratched into their old bunk back when they were cadets in the Horde. A caricature she’d destroyed out of anger when Adora first abandoned the Horde...abandoned Catra…

Part of her had hoped they would find it somewhere in the rubble of the old Horde headquarters when she and Adora had been leading the cleanup there. Unsurprisingly, it was either long gone, or someone else had scooped it up with all the rest of the debris and sent it to be recycled.

Whatever happened to that, she had Adora again. For the moment, though, that just didn’t give her the comfort she wanted it to. She opened the door and stood before the bed inside as the door hissed shut behind her. The room was spartan; only a bed and the trunk they’d hastily packed were there. The blank wall opposite the door could be made transparent so they could see outside the ship, but now it was solid, smooth, dreary gray. 

They would have probably taken more time to decorate the room before they went on their actual “road trip”. Decorated with what, she wasn’t sure, but anything would be better than the drab gray, featureless walls that right now echoed what she was feeling inside.

She sat down on the bed, legs curled up to her chest. She buried her face in her knees and, after all the hardships of the past few days, finally let herself break down and cry.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Jewel of the Sea: Chapter 13: Enter Janus

Chapter 12

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Chapter Soundtrack

Word Count: 1,261

It was a simple thing to get into the party. The guest list was clearly made last minute so Janus simply pretended to be a nobleman that wasn’t on it. He acted slighted and hurt, saying that he would go tell the king if they didn’t let him in and that it was quite the simple matter to get the guards fired for incompetence. He swept into the garden just as his prey came down the stairs. His smile turned cold, almost calculating as he took up station near the refreshments table.

He had to admit, the party was nicely decorated. Whoever did it obviously knew what they were doing as it was tasteful with just the barest hint of gaudy. His eyes wandered back to the middle prince and the toy on his arm. The prince stepped away, followed by the crown prince, and made his way over to the refreshments table. Janus pretended to busy himself with gathering a small plate for himself while he listened in on their conversation.

Logan grabbed two plates and started filling them. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

The crown prince sighed. “You’re clearly head over heels for him.”

Logan’s back straightened. “I don’t know what you mean.” His tone sounded defensive.

The crown prince didn’t say anything, instead giving him a look that probably meant something. Logan stared him down for a few seconds before groaning, setting the plates down and hanging his head slightly. “Is it that obvious?”

The crown prince chuckled. “To those who love you, yes.”

Logan looked at him. “Any ideas?”

“You could try telling him how you feel.”

Logan shook his head. “I’m no good with feelings, you know that.”

“Worth a shot.” The crown prince shrugged and leaned against the wall near the table, his face thoughtful. “How about you just ask to kiss him?”

Logan’s head whipped up, his expression one of shock. “What?! And get accused of trying to assault him? No thanks!”

The crown prince laughed again, clearly enjoying the conversation. “That’s why you ask! He gets the idea and can turn you down if it’s a no. But if it’s a yes, problem solved!”

Logan nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Good, I’ll make sure to know when you two duck out.”

His smile grew as they spoke, a plan formulating in his mind the longer the brothers talked. Finally, he walked away and sat down to eat and plot. The food was good but didn’t fill him up so he eventually pushed it away, instead allowing his eyes to roam back to the one food he did want: the middle prince, Logan. His was a soul that was light and pure with just a tinge of darkness around the edges, the perfect meal.

He’d wanted that meal since the first time he’d arrived in the area. He’d seen Logan walking along the coast the first day he’d gotten there. Seeing what that soul looked like, he couldn’t help but want it.

He trailed the couple, staying close enough to hear their conversations but far enough that he wouldn’t be drawn into them himself. When the prince’s arm candy said something Janus didn’t catch and walked away, Janus saw his chance. He watched the man walk up the stairs and enter the building before casually walking around a shrub and shifting his form to match the unusually tall man who just left.

He wandered out from behind the bushes, coming to stand by Logan. He slipped his arm around the other’s, leaning his head atop the middle prince’s, pretending to be tired. The prince seemed to have bought it as he patted Janus’ hand and continued on with his conversation.

When the conversation ended, Logan’s voice dropped in volume, changing from a polite tone to a softer one, full of love. “Do you want to go somewhere quiet?”

Janus internally rejoiced at the ease with which his plan was pulling itself off. It was almost too perfect, he didn’t even have to try while the prince practically fell into his lap. Externally, he nodded but didn’t speak to keep up the tired façade. They walked off, Logan keeping Janus tucked close, as if he would fall over without the support. Part of Janus’ brain wondered how often that had happened with the man he was impersonating. They wandered through a small hedge maze, coming to a stop at a secluded area with a bench.

Janus went ahead and sat, tilting his head back just a bit to still look tired. Logan didn’t sit down right away, instead pacing. He looked like he was gathering courage and if the conversation Janus had heard earlier was anything to go off, he probably was.

Abruptly, the prince came to a stop in front of the bench. “May I kiss you?” He asked in one breath.

Janus allowed a surprised expression to cross his borrowed face before it turned into his usual joyful one, practically able to feel the trap snap closed around the unsuspecting prince. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” He all but purred in reply.

Logan stepped closer, taking Janus’ hands to help him to his feet. The prince leaned in and Janus prepared to have the best meal of his life. Before their lips could touch, before Janus could suck that pearly white soul right out his mouth, he noticed the man from earlier. His expression conveyed shock before tears gathered in his eyes and he took off back the way he’d come. Logan opened his eyes at the sound of the retreating footsteps, pulling back in time to see him go.

He took steps back, clearly unsteady on his feet. “What’s going on?” His eyes traveled from the empty entrance to Janus, who still looked like the man’s date to the party.

Taking advantage of the face he was still wearing, Janus attempted a comforting smile. Based on the prince’s reaction, it clearly came off more sinister than he wanted. “I don’t know what you’re so freaked out about, Logan. I’m standing right here. The person who walked off must have been someone with a similarly colored outfit.”

He could feel the man’s eyes on him, sizing him up and comparing him to the original. Logan took steps to the side that were less than steady. “No, you’re not Virgil.”

Janus laughed, shaking his head as he was tempted to drop the facial disguise. As it was, he could feel the eyes slipping back into his usual brown and gold. “Oh, Logan, whatever do you mean?”

His efforts were for naught as Logan didn’t answer. He ran out, following the other’s path, his crown slipping from his head. Janus didn’t try to pursue them, much preferring stealth to brute strength. He picked the crown up and put it in his lap as he sat back down on the bench, plotting.

An idea came to him that was risky, but bold. If he could pull it off, he might just get more than what he set out for. With his decision made up, he leaned back, closing his eyes as he thought of what the prince looked like. Slowly, he could feel the façade settle over him like too tight clothes, reminding him he no longer looked like the person he’d have to learn the name of, instead he looked like the second born prince. He opened his now blue eyes, settled the crown onto his head, and walked out to perform the best con job of his life.

Chapter 14

[buckybeardreams]

Unwanted

Chapters: 5/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Words: 2,258

Tony bit his lip, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was sticking up in weird places from trying and failing to sleep last night. There were bags under his eyes that made him look like he hadn't slept in weeks and, well, really that wasn't too far off. Sometimes he drank enough to pass out for a little bit here and there, but he never just got a solid night's sleep. To be fair, Tony didn't sleep all that well even before he found his soulmate and then pretty much rejected him by never calling him.

Tony didn't sleep well when he was alone, but even when he wasn't and he did fall asleep instead of tossing and turning restlessly before giving up and going for a cup of coffee, Tony didn't sleep more then five hours tops unless he was passed out drunk. So maybe that's one of the reasons that he drinks so much.

He wasn't drinking right now, well, not much. He had a couple of beers, but that was nothing. Just a little something to take the edge off before he went to re-meet Brock's new mate. Tony sighed, took one last look at his disheveled appearance and flinched away from it, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch before heading out.

It was a cold day, windy and blustery with clouds hanging overhead that threatened to soak the inhabitants of the city as they walked down the street in large groups, pushing and shoving, each desperate to get where they're going before the rain ruined their hair or makeup. Tony was far less concerned and when the rain did come down and he was left with wet hair clinging to him and soaked clothes and a gloomy atmosphere that the rain couldn't wash away, well, he thought at least his hair wasn't sticking up all over the place.

He showed up on Brock's doorstep and was relieved when it was Brock who opened the apartment door. Brock was grinning, but it faltered slightly when he saw Tony.

"Hey, you okay?"

Tony nodded.

"Yeah, 'course. Now are you gonna invite me in or make me stay out in the hall for dinner?" Tony said, trying and failing to sound like his usual snarky self.

Brock still looked concerned, but he nodded and stepped aside to let Tony in.

"Yeah, of course, come in."

Tony entered into a small hall, kicking off his shoes before heading further into the apartment. He froze when he saw Steve sitting on the couch next to Sam. Tony's heart raced in his chest and his mind was thrown through a loop, because what the fuck was his soulmate doing here?

"Tony, this is Steve, Sam's friend." Brock watched him anxiously, wondering how he would react.

Steve was staring at Tony, clearly just as caught off guard as Tony was. Steve looked far more put together than Tony did, like he wasn't completely miserable about his mate rejecting him, and didn't that just make Tony feel way worse about looking like a wet rat. Sam's confusion quickly gave way to understanding as he put the pieces together. Anthony, who works at a bar, and is Steve's soulmate. Of course it would be Tony. By the looks of it Brock was already aware of this. Sam sent Brock a stern look and Brock returned it with a sheepish one.

"What?" Brock asked innocently, going to settle in his Alpha's lap.

Sam rolled his eyes, but hugged him close. Tony and Steve were still staring at each other, neither one moving or saying anything. Tony was the one to break the silence after a few more awkwardly drawn out moments.

"No, you're not Steve." Tony shook his head in denial. "You can't be Steve."

Steve's mouth opened and closed a few times like he was trying to say something, but couldn't quite get the words out.

"I am... um, Steve," Steve managed to get out, blushing over how awkward it was.

Tony rubbed at his temples and shook his head again.

"No, I can't- I can't do this right now."

Tony headed straight back to the door, grabbing his shoes, not even bothering to put them on, and walked out. Steve whimpered, looking hurt and lost and like he kinda wanted to chase after Tony, but was also afraid of just being rejected again. Brock just groaned, grumbling under his breath about being way too fucking stubborn before heading after Tony.

"That's- That was my soulmate," Steve said, somehow sounding both shocked and heartbroken.

"Yeah, I kinda got that," Sam said, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder. "You okay, man?"

Steve swallowed and nodded, but truthfully, he had no fucking clue if he was okay or not. He was completely blindsided by the sudden appearance and then just as sudden disappearance of his soulmate and he had no clue how to feel about that. He thought devastated might be the right word, but then somehow that didn't seem like it fit at all. Steve felt like he was dying, and no, he did not think that was an exaggeration.

*****

"Tony, stop!" Brock called out to him. "Don't make me run after you."

Tony groaned, coming to a halt at the end of the hall and turning to glare at Brock.

"You knew," Tony accused.

"I did, or at least I was like ninety percent sure about it."

"You should have told me. You know how I feel about Alphas."

"I know, but you told me-"

"I know what I said!" Tony snapped. "Don't use my own words against me. I confided in you and you used it against me."

Tony swallowed back the lump in his throat, feeling betrayed and confused. He wanted an Alpha, but he didn't want the things that inevitably would follow, like being controlled or looked down on. Most of all he was scared that Steve would be perfect and Tony wouldn't be good enough for him.

"Tony... I'm sorry, but I knew you were going to be stubborn about this. You told me that you regret not calling him. This is your chance to get to know him. You might like him if you give him a chance."

Tears pricked at Tony's eyes. He wasn't worried about not liking Steve, well, he was worried about that. Mostly though he was worried about falling too hard, too fast, only to be rejected. He wasn't the kind of Omega to just submit and say yes, sir. He had opinions and dreams and no intention of letting anyone else tell him how to live his life, but those weren't the kinds of things that most Alphas wanted in a mate.

"Tony, I've spent time with Steve and he's literally the softest Alpha I've ever met, and I'm mated to Sam so that's really saying something. My Alpha is totally wrapped around my finger."

Tony smiled a little at that.

"Sam does seem nice... for an Alpha," Tony teased.

Brock laughed and nudged his shoulder.

"He is and Steve is too. Just talk to him, Tony. See what happens."

Tony groaned, but let Brock lead him back to the apartment. Steve was still in shock, only a few minutes having passed since Tony walked out. It wasn't nearly enough time to process what had happened and suddenly Tony reappeared. Tony shifted on his feet, his hand slipped into Brock's, his palm sweaty. Brock squeezed his hand encouragingly and leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

"Do you want some space?"

Tony licked his lips, not sure he wanted this at all, but he owed himself this. He needed to at least try or he'd always be left wondering if it could have worked out. Besides, Brock was not going to let this go until Tony at least gave it a try. He swallowed down his fears and nodded. Brock nodded, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and pulled Sam deeper into the apartment. Steve and Tony stared at each other and it started to feel tense and awkward.

Tony groaned.

"We need to talk."

Steve looked nervous, certain that Tony was about to reject him, but he nodded.

"I don't like Alphas," Tony blurted out when the silence dragged on.

Steve flinched like Tony had slapped him.

"Oh," Steve said, unable to hide his disappointment.

He just knew that his Omega was about to reject him and Steve wasn't sure he would survive the rejection.

"Yeah..." Tony said. "I'm willing to give this a try though, but if you try to go all Alpha on me..."

Tony shook his head and Steve's brows furrowed.

"I don't like the way Alphas feel entitled to an Omega's body. Like Omegas are beneath them and only there for an Alpha's pleasure."

Steve bit his lip, not wanting to get his hopes up. He was pretty sure his Omega was suggesting that he wanted to be the dominant one in their relationship. Or maybe he was just saying he didn't want to submit to an asshole Alpha. Either way, Steve could definitely work with this.

"I would never force myself on you, Anthony."

"Tony."

Steve blinked at him in surprise before smiling softly. He didn't want to assume that Tony was comfortable enough with him to use a nickname, but it touched Steve to know that his Omega was trying. Tony wanted to give this a try even if he was worried about it and that was enough for Steve. He would be the best Alpha ever, because he would be exactly what Tony needed him to be. He knew already that he'd give Tony anything he wanted and he'd try his best to be whatever Tony wanted him to be.

"Tony," He breathed out.

The word rolled off his tongue like velvet and Tony felt all fluttery inside. He cleared his throat, feeling the urge to escape the foreign sensation.

"How old are you even?" Tony blurted out, feeling awkward and uncertain in a way that he hated feeling. He was so not used to the warm feeling inside of him or the desire to go to Steve and touch him and be held close.

Steve blinked at the question, caught off guard by it.

"Um, I'm not that young."

Tony raised a brow at him and Steve squirmed.

"You look young," Tony pointed out.

"I'm legal!" Steve said defensively.

"So you're what? Eighteen?"

Steve looked down at his feet, looking awfully small for a six foot, two hundred pound hunk of pure muscle. Tony took that to be a yes.

"You're what? Ten years younger than me?" Tony said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're practically still a pup. I can't date you."

Steve pouted.

"I don't want to date you. I want to mate with you. I want you to be mine."

"That's infinitely worse," Tony said, flinging his hands up in exasperation. "You do realize that right? That's so much worse."

"No, it's not. There's nothing wrong with an age gap, besides no one would judge us for it. The goddess chose you for me," Steve insisted.

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Or maybe she chose you for me. Ever thought that maybe it's not the Alpha that owns the Omega, but the Omega that owns the Alpha?" Tony snarked.

Steve blushed.

"Okay," Steve said, a little breathless. "I'll be yours, if only you'll have me."

Tony narrowed his eyes at him.

"You'd let me own you?"

"God, yes. Please, just don't reject me."

Tony licked his lips.

"Okay, come here, pup ."

Steve's blush deepened at being called a pup, but he didn't object to it. The moment Steve was within reach Tony grabbed his shirt and slammed their lips together, turning them so he could shove Steve up against the wall. Tony's hair was still dripping wet and his shirt was drenched. It got Steve wet, soaking through his own sweater, but he didn't care.

"Okay, then, pretty Alpha. You want to play, then let's play," Tony said, coming as close to a growl as an Omega could.

Steve gasped when Tony's hand grasped him in between his legs and groped him through his pants. His face lit up bright red and Tony smirked at his blushing Alpha. He was so fucking sweet. Tony thought that maybe, just maybe, this could work out, but they were going to have to agree on one very important thing if there was going to be any chance of them mating.

"Let's be clear, I still want your knot, but I'm in charge here and you do what I say or I'll throw you out and you won't get another chance."

Steve swallowed, nodding rapidly.

"Yes, sir."

Tony smirked, licking his lips.

"Good boy," Tony purred in his ear, his tongue darting out to lick his neck, his teeth sharp on his skin.

Steve whimpered, his head falling to the side to give his Omega better access. Clearly, the goddess knew what she was doing when she paired them up, because this was better than Steve had dared to hope for. Steve had always been excited about having a mate, but he had always thought he'd present as an Omega. When he didn't, he was concerned that he'd never be a good enough Alpha, but the moment he saw Tony in that bar he knew that he was in love, knew that he'd do anything to please this man.

Now here they were and Tony wanted him, wanted to use him, and Steve was in heaven. There was nothing that he wanted more than to please Tony, to be used by him, to be ordered around by his pretty little Omega.

Tony tried not to think about how young and naive Steve was. He didn't want to admit that a part of him was thrilled to be more experienced, to be the one teaching his Alpha about pleasure. It was pretty obvious that Steve had no experience, because when Tony kissed him Steve had no idea what he was doing. He had no rhythm and he clearly didn't know what to do with his tongue when Tony licked at his lips and dove inside his mouth. Tony thought it was cute though. Steve squirmed and whimpered, his blush spreading down his neck, and Tony ate it all up.

"Fuck, you're cute," Tony groaned when he pulled away. "Maybe I'll keep you after all."

[virtual-dump]

Review Dump #1

I need a place to throw out my thoughts about some games, so in a first for the blog I will be “reviewing” some games in this post. I’m just gonna call it “Review Dump” and I think this will be a recurring thing. Normally I’d just put out a Steam review but for these that’s not an option for obvious reasons or not where I own my copy of the game. In future RDs I’ll probably include Steam games as well but this one is specifically for some non-Steam games I’ve played lately.

Anyway let’s get into it.

First up is 12 Minutes. What an absolute disappointment this thing was. Listen, there are some interesting things about this game but the story is confusing, and the ending is just shock value nonsense. Mechanically the game can be a little frustrating with how repetitive it can be, and it makes some of the already slightly annoying puzzles that much more annoying. To understand what’s really wrong with the game you need to go in blind and just try it but I don’t recommend it. I think you’d be better off watching it on YouTube if you’re really curious. I’d give it a 5/10 maybe a 6/10 if I’m in a good mood. Like I said some cool stuff but it really just fumbles it by the end.

Next I’ll talk about Astro’s Playroom. That’s right, got myself a PS5. What an absolute joy this game was. Front to back just a good time, it’s not reinventing the 3D platformer and it’s not like it has this great story but it looks good, plays great, and is just a feel good game. It might be the best “launch title” ever, not in that it beats out a game like BotW, but in the way that it is a joyous celebration of the new console and its history. Roughly 1/4 of the way thru I decided I was going to platinum the game, and so I did. Obviously you need a PS5 to play it, but if and when you do don’t skip this. Especially if you have any love for PlayStation or its history. Solid like 9.5/10. I don’t think it’s doing enough to be considered a 10/10, and I actually wish there was a little more meat to it but otherwise I have no complaints.

Seeing as I got a PS5, you can probably guess that I’ll talk about a couple more PlayStation games. I decided to finally sit down and play The Last Guardian, which I had bought somewhat recently when it was on sale. I’m a huge fan of Shadow of the Colossus, but when TLG came out reception was mixed, to say the least. I like to form my own opinions on things, even if that opinion is dislike or even hatred, so I wanted to play this game eventually. And I now have. Man…TLG is one of those games that I think could have been an all time great, if it just worked better and if they just decided to be a little less, I don’t know, obtuse. I think it’s tragic in a way. There’s something about the game that pulls you in, and makes you want to keep going and going and see the next interesting little world detail or next revelation. In between those things is one of the clunkiest, messiest, self-indulgent slogs I’ve ever seen in a game. I’m not going to go into heavy detail with how this game fails mechanically but I’ll just say it doesn’t feel good to play. Movement is messy, camera is jank, button layout is wack. This is really tough but I have to give this game like a 6.5/10 MAYBE a 7/10. But it’s like, the best 6.5/10 game of all time. I recommend this to people who have a lot of patience and to people who like oddities. There’s no game like this and I doubt there will be many like it going forward. As a Video Game Enthusiast I think it’s worth seeing and playing for yourself. Watching on YouTube is an option but I think there’s something special about playing it that you can’t get out of just watching it.

Lastly I’ll briefly talk about Beyond: Two Souls. Might seem like a strange batch of games but I just play what I feel like when I feel it. I don’t have a huge paragraph for this game. It’s like playing a high budget, really long action flick that you’ll mostly forget all the details about. My biggest complaint about the game is that it’s really too long and just kinda wastes time doing random stuff. It’s generally speaking still somewhat interesting stuff but they could have cut hours off this game and lost relatively little. And I’ll also say the “branching paths” stuff seemed really shallow and cosmetic mostly. Maybe I’m wrong about that but I’m not gonna play through multiple times. Overall it’s fun, if you like this type of game you’ll like this one. If I had to give it a score maybe like a 7.5 or 8/10.

That’s all for this batch. I’ve been trying to Play More Games as of late so I’ll probably be posting some more soon. Happy gaming out there.