#maybe there will be some changes but this is going to be the cast

[sweetascherry1]

I’ll be watching you — Lee Byung-hun

Description: Over the years your fans has slowly watched you and Lee Byung-Hun fall in love. They finally get to see you guys working on a project together for the first time since G.I. JOE. What even better? The promotion for the Netflix hit Squid Games.

Parings: Lee Byung-Hun x Actor F!Reader

Warnings: Some use of Y/N.

2013 G.I. JOE Retaliation Promotion.

The bright lights of the cameras shined on you and your co-star, while the interviewer asked you basic questions.

“So how did the two of you feel with this new casting. Mr Lee who had already played in the original G.I. Joe movie and you who has just now made her debut.”

You look to Byung-hun silently pleading for him to take on the question first. Luckily one look your way and he knew your silent question. Something you had found yourself grateful for.

“The entire cast is full of amazing actors, who are so caring and gentle.” Slowly you felt your nails picking at your cuticles as you thought of your answer. “I had a lot of fun working with these guys — and everyone on the crew makes it so fun.”

You didn’t noticed at first, and honestly neither did the interviewer. He was so slick with the way he slid his hand into yours, stopping your bad habit. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before you answering as encouragement.

Your voice didn’t waver as you let the warmth of his hand bring you back to earth.

“Working on a project this big, with these actors who I truly admire is something I’m so excited about. This my ‘debut’ and it’s crazy to me that this is all really real.”

Before the interviewer could ask his next question Byung-hun didn’t think before keeping your conversation going. Helping your nerves.

“Going Hollywood is definitely something that is nerve wracking. I remember how crazy the whole thing was for me.”

Your little smile at him made the fans go crazy when the video came out. The hand holding, and little gentle reassurances he would do throughout the entire thing was something fans couldn’t get enough of as they would re-watch it over and over.

—

Photos flashed everywhere, blinding you as you stepped onto the movie premiere. Your dress was gorgeous, just like you. Your hair and makeup styled perfectly, you had honestly felt like a princess.

And in true prince fashion, Byung-hun stepped in when he saw you picking as your nails again.

Smiling at the photographers, he grabbed your hand. Leaning down to whisper in your ear; “your hands are too pretty to mess up. Squeeze mine instead.”

When he straightened his posture, and smiled once again for the cameras, as if nothing happened, you couldn’t help but think maybe that’s when you first felt it.

Devotion, wrapped in admiration.

He had helped you so much with your anxiety, some would say it was inevitable to favor him. “Thank you.” All he did was simply squeeze your hand back.

The blinding lights going crazy over the hand holding. Surely it would cause rumors, but for once you didn’t let it get to your head. Simply holding his hand instead.

—

For Lee Byung-hun, he had only thought of you as a co-worker. While your admiration for the man was so obvious, he couldn’t help but thing it was a silly crush you had because he helped you in tough situations.

He kept it professional, denying at friend invites you sent him, or any drink you’d offer him. Though he changed perspectives after watching you most recent single interview.

“Many of your fans are interested with your relationship with your co-star Lee Byung-hun. Can you elaborate on it?”

Truth was you felt nervous at this question, you didn’t know the right way to answer. Though you knew you wanted to be honest and not let the rumors continue, even if it may disappoint some.

“Ah, well truth be told there is no relationship I can really explain. This movie is the first time I’ve had such a big role.

While filming, it’s true I had quite a few scenes with Storm Shadow, more often than not. While filming those scenes I’d watch the way Lee Byung-hun embodied his character.

It was something I was truly impressed about, and so since our characters were so intwined with each other — we were paired for most promotional videos.”

You took a deep breath before continuing, grateful that the interviewer didn’t interrupt.

“During our first promo video, I was extremely nervous. This is such a big film and I was so in my head — seeing this my co-working held my hand to help with my anxiety.

People who support me loved it. Was all for it, but all it was, was him helping a co-worker out. The same thing happened at the movie premiere.

While on that carpet my heart was pounding and he was there to offer support. That’s all, the rest is rumors. I simple just admire him and someone to learn from.”

You felt a little shaky but ultimately felt better after clearing air. In your eyes Mr Lee Byung-Hun was uncomfortable about the rumors. That’s why he wouldn’t ever socialize much with you, so you had felt proud of yourself for putting an end to it.

On the other hand, him hearing you say you only admire him from a person to learn from had hit him hard. A person he knew actually looked up to him. It was an honor, one he had became proud of.

So when he saw you next, he didn’t beat around the bush.

“I’m a person you admire?” You didn’t have a crush on him like he originally thought, and that’s the moment he wanted you be your friend.

That’s the moment he had devotion towards you. Devotion wrapped in friendship.

—

Your final cast interview. It was a long experience, but an unforgettable one. This whole movie had became something you truly loved, cast included.

“Each of you will read out a card, and say the answer within ten seconds. If you get it, you’ll gain points. Whoever has most wins.”

A simple game to finish it off. Easy peasy.

To the right of you, Dwayne went first. “In ten words, explain the film.” He read off before hurrying to put ten words out.

“Cobra.” One finger up. “Escapes.” Another. “While. Joes. That. Are. Left. Fight. Back.” One last word, but just before he could think of it — getting stuck the timer went off.

The whole crew laughed at his disappointment, and then next was your turn.

“I’m nervous.” You gave one deep breath before reading out your card. “Why should you watch the new movie.”

One. Two. “Have you seen this cast?” Five. Six. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.” Everyone laughed.

Dwayne got a little red, causing a little teasing. It was a good moment, a happy moment. So why was Byung-hun laughing?

In fact as it was a viral clip, not you teasing Dwayne, no it was Lee Byung-hun reaction that was viral.

“Have you seen this cast?” Byung-hun kept his entire focus on you, not even looking away once when you spoke. In fact throught most of the interview, he barely paid anyone else much attention. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.”

A bitter feeling bubbler under his skin, as he felt his blood hot. His jaw visibly clenched, as he glared at the man in question. Before looking you up as down, his fist the next to clench. Not a single laugh leaving his lips let alone a smile.

It went very viral, and Lee Byung-hun didn’t even try to deny what they were saying. Jealousy, yes. Though it wasn’t because he was romantically interested. He just felt a sense of belonging over you. Not in a toxic way, or at least not in his eyes.

Truth be told you only mentioned to him simply because you didn’t want him to be mad at you.

“What that video going around about?” A simple question. He was in your living room, laying down on your lap, eyes closed while you mindlessly scrolled through instagram.

Instantly he knew what you were talking about and once again he didn’t defend himself.

“I didn’t like how you mentioned him.”

“His muscles.”

A scoff slipped past his lips, “I have those too, you know?” He sat up, and didn’t hesitate to lift his shirt up to show you. His abs briefly capturing your full attention.

“Yea but there’s already enough rumors about us.” That was true, and he knew that but he just didn’t care.

“Let them talk.” He brushed a hair out your face, “we’re friends, and friends go over co-workers.”

Friends, neither of you doubted the word. But we’re friends so devoted to one another? So admirable to the other? So protective? Yet the word was never doubted.

—

Over the years

Over the years, neither of you worked on a project again. That didn’t matter, your friendship was still so ever strong.

Often at each other’s house, getting food, attending events. All your fans had was an occasional post about the other.

Once you posted putting a pretty pink bow in his hair, his face was in complete annoyance.

“Byung-hun. Look at me!” He knew you had your phone recording and he debated on weather or not to snatch before looking at you. Ultimately he settled for a glare.

“My pretty princess.” Oh he just might kill you. His head tilted as suddenly you felt a little hotter as he look up at you. Like he was going to devour you alive. “Princess? I’m the one that pampers you—“ before he could continue the video went black.

It was a fond memory of your and you had posted it. As expected whenever a post involving the other popped up it blew up.

Though his comment made even more chaos. As he so much loves to do. No joke, before he made the comment he laid on your bedroom floor breaking silence as he watched the video.

“How can I make this more chaotic.” You couldn’t help but sigh at him.

I dream so often of shutting your mouth. Any ideas?

It went crazy. Then again you’ve done that before, comment a wild thing on his post.

For instance, he posted a picture of himself sweating. Chain dangling (one you got him) and a devilish smile.

Have my kids, I’ll never talk back.

Yea?

You had purposely also sent him a private audio message, cat calling him.

The uproar your fans had, oh well let’s just say many articles broke out.

It was honestly fun, watching your fans want something so bad and just dangle it. Made the two of you feel euphoric on the power.

Yet that wasn’t the only thing you two had found euphoric.

Eventually at one point the two of decided to drink and drink. None of you think before you both crossed a line that was already so faded.

You kissed, and then kissed. Until you ending up the next morning both naked in bed.

The two of you decided for the best that none of it ever happen again, but even though you didn’t — it doesn’t mean you two forgot. In fact neither of you can look at wine the same.

Though, y’all’s restraint fell apart eventually as the two of you kept ending up in each other’s bed.

Most people wouldn’t be shocked if they knew, but oh the two of you were dumbfounded on why you guys could resist each other.

So began your friends with benefits era. A classic.

As that era ended, you both realized you had wanted more, so eventually causal dating was the next step for the two of you. In private of course.

—

Promotion of squid games

You and Byung-Hun both sat in front of cameras. Each looking at fan made videos. It was nice to see such creativity, or that what you thought going into this.

As the first video played, with weird dancing and animation, you couldn’t understand how Byung-Hun could keep a straight face.

“That was for sure… interesting.” The side eye you gave him, and then the camera was definitely clipped.

“I feel wrong.” Is all you had simply said. Which was true. “Definitely love the work put into this, and I think it’s cool how people made this. Just… not my cup of tea.”

A few more weird videos broke out, and some nice one with people singing the theme song, and etc.

The next fan video was an edit of the two of you. Simply just watching each other as the lyrics in the video played. Romantics clearly intended.

It didn’t surprise the two of you. Byung-hun turned his head to you, laughing a little.

“You know, a lot of our fans watched this show for us being in a film together. Yet our characters actually despise the other.” Your smile felt contagious to him as you laughed back.

“Are we the problem?”

The man simply nodded his head back before the two of you watched the next video.

—

Instagram

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—

Lie detector interview.

“We are going to give you a set of questions, please answer yes or no.”

Nerves picked at your skin as your watch Byung-hun opposite from you.

They would start with true or false trivia, before going into more detail questions. He gave you a reassuring smile before reading out the first words.

“Is your name really Y/N?” Easy. “Yes.” The detector person gave a thumbs up and he went onto the next question.

“Is it true that you play in squid games season 2?” Another easy one. “Yes.” One more true or false. “Is it true you are very nervous?” The look you gave him was the most ‘duh’ bratty attitude ever.

“Yes.”

“Okay, now onto the actual questions.” He looked down at his card, almost laughing before reading it out to you.

“Have you ever injured yourself on the set of squid games?” You knew exactly what he was thinking about, and it took you a moment not to laugh as well.

“During one of my earlier scenes, I was drinking wine, that I thought was grape juice.” Byung-hun placed a card over his growing smile as you continued. “Well no one actually thought I was drinking actual wine. Nor did I. So I ended up getting a little flushed and tripped off my chair spraining my ankle.”

Amusement wouldn’t even began the joy your co-star had as he remembered the day he carried you back to your trailer.

“Did you have to learn Korean for this film.”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. “I didn’t learn it for this film, but I had learned it a while ago to surprise you because I felt bad you had to translate your thoughts before saying them.”

Lee Byung-hun remembers the first time you spoke to him in Korean. In fact he thinks that was the moment he fell in love with you.

You two had become the definition of she fell first but he fell harder.

You use to mess up so much, and he always loved it. Now you’re pretty fluent but he loves the moments where you ask him for help.

“Tell me more about your character.”

“I play a foreign player, that is intended to remind Gi-Hun about Ali. When I get into the games lots of drama, funny and stressful things begins to happen. I don’t wanna spoil it.”

“Well you passed!” As your began to unhook yourself from the machine, “not a single lie.”

“Not like I could.” You would rather be seen as the honest person you were anyways.

You had asked your co star similar questions but one was a heavily asked fan question.

“What’s your relationship with Co-Star Y/N L/N.” Even you began to feel nervous. Dating. You two were dating and had went a very long time keeping your confirmed relationship private.

But, as you both looked at each other you both knew there wasn’t a point in keeping things a secret.

“Dating.”

Let’s just say the PR for squid game was better than gold.

A/N: I have so many WIP, but no motivation to finish them 😭. So this is my very half attempt to get out of this writing slump! Otherwise I might go insane.

[reidsmanuscript]

Meet the Minds

Summary: 4 years after that one time in a bar, on how your character Criminal Minds was born, and maybe how something else was also borned. Pairing: mgg x actress!reader Genre: friends to lovers?, fluff, mutual pinning TW: Public Scrutiny/Fame, reader has severally parents issues, plus they are passive aggressive but it's short i swear, brief mention of cheating, mgg takes a minute to appear i know im sorry, long introduction wc: 3.7k! A/N: hopefully someone will understand what I'm aiming for with both of my dear !readers, this is with the solely purpose to treat myself i fear Masterlist!

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Since that one time in a bar it has been 4 years. Your show City Lights has gotten big. And when you say big, it was BIG, and so did you.

You were wrapping up the third season of the show, with a renewed contract for the next season in hand and a few promising movie proposals. In the past four years, you and your friends have become famous. Not A-list famous, but enough that if any of you went out, someone would recognize you, or a few paparazzi might follow your every move.

The four of you had lived in the same apartment in New York ever since filming started on location. HBO wanted your friendship to feel authentic for the cameras, and boy, were you grateful for that… because they had become your true best friends—not just on TV, but in real life.

It was Ashley, Jack and Nathan. Something that always happens when you start a show and it gets views it’s that the whole crew becomes a big family. In the middle of the second season, you finally mustered the courage to ask the showrunner, Jeff Davis, if you could join the writers' table to pitch some ideas for your character. He agreed, and since then, some of the best storylines on the show had come from your contributions.

The thing was, your name brought in big numbers, and it had caught the attention of producers and showrunners alike. Criminal Minds had premiered a year ago, gained some traction, but they wanted to take it to the next level. So Jeff, the same creator of your show, called you and your agent to see if you could join the cast.

There were two problems. First, your schedule was already packed. Moving to L.A. for the shoot wasn’t an option—City Lights had you locked in for the fourth season, and there was a possibility you'd land the lead in a promising film. On top of that, you were still taking college classes from a foreign university at your parents' insistence. So, being a recurring character was out of the question.

Second, when they handed you the script, you hated the character. They wanted you to be the fan favorite, Spencer Reid’s love interest, and while you had no problem with that, the character itself didn’t sit right with you. She was this sweet, innocent woman, one who was a victim from one unsub, and Spencer, an addict, would find redemption through her. He’d get sober and everything would be perfectly happy. You thought it was dull.

For starters, you knew how controversial it would be for her to become his personal recovery center, but you also saw the potential in the character. So, you asked if you could rewrite her into something more dynamic, something with more depth. Given the trust Jeff had in you, he gave you free rein to make the changes.

“How’s it going?” Jack, one of your best friends and a Criminal Minds fan, asked, entering the living room.

“A surprisingly moving amount of absolute nothing,” you said jokingly, staring at the blank space.

“Oh, come on, dude! We’ve watched some of the episodes together! You know the vibe,” he said, sitting down on the couch beside you.

“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it.” you said throwing your hands to the air in a comically exasperated way.

“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it,” you said, dramatically throwing your hands in the air, exasperated.

“Guess who’s gone viral again!” Nathan breezed into the room, flashing you a grin. He played your love interest on City Lights, and the fans went wild for your on-screen chemistry. But the truth was, you two were nothing more than really good friends. There was no romance, just a strong, platonic bond.

“Ugh... please tell me it’s for the right reasons.” You shut your eyes and let your head flop back against the couch.

Nathan tossed you his phone, then leaned casually on the backrest of the couch, Jack scooting closer to get a better look.

“What is it? Another red sauce scandal?” you asked, scrunching your nose at the thought.

Let me tell you something: becoming famous at 17 or 18 leaves you with a digital footprint that you'll wish you could erase by the time you’re 23.

He handed you his phone, showing a new release from Austin, your ex-boyfriend. The song title was painfully obvious—"Still Stuck on You." The lyrics left no room for interpretation, and the message hit you like a ton of bricks. Austin had written another song about you, and this time, he made it clear.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me! This is like the third one this year!” Your mouth hung open in disbelief as Jack, who had burst out laughing, took the phone from your hands and started scrolling through the Twitter comments.

He had been your “boyfriend” four years ago, but only for PR purposes. When you found out he’d cheated, you broke up with him. He begged and cried, and it was pathetic. Since then, Austin had turned your brief relationship into his whole persona. He released songs that were painfully obvious about you, dated women who looked eerily like you, and spent interviews throwing shade, spreading lies, all for attention. The problem? You were skyrocketing, gaining fame in ways he could never have predicted, and he—well, he was still stuck on you.

Your phone started ringing somewhere around the apartment, a FaceTime call vibrating through the cushions. You rummaged through the pillows on the couch, cursing under your breath as you came up empty.

“Seriously, how do you always lose it?” Nathan said, appearing behind you with a smirk. He found your phone wedged between the couch cushions and handed it to you just as you answered the call. As he did, you reached into your back pocket, pulling out a dollar bill and placing it in his open hand.

See, you had a special talent for losing your phone around the house, and your friends turned it into a game. Every time you misplaced it and one of them found it, you owed them a dollar.

“Bitch have you seen it?!” Ashley squealed from your phone, her voice laced with urgency. 

“It's like jumpscare! you know it’s coming but it’s always surprisingly disappointing!” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“Somebody said, ‘Are you writing a memoir or just trying to hit the ‘most dramatic ex’ award this year?’” You all chuckled at Jack’s reading.

“Gotta go, some stylist is calling me. Love ya, bye!” Ashley hung up quickly, going back to her photoshoot, leaving you to shake your head and wish her good luck.

Jack kept giggling at the comments, lost in the chaos of Austin’s latest stunt. Meanwhile, you stared blankly at your screen, the cursor blinking mockingly back at you.

Nathan gave you a playful shove. “You know what’s really offensive? The tempo on that track. It’s like he’s trying to be edgy but doesn’t understand how syncopation works.”

“Hmm, well, what else could you expect? Maybe you should make your own song about it, something with a real sense of rhythm,” You said absently, still staring at the screen, the cursor blinking in a never-ending challenge.

“And you should start writing that, maybe throw in a little revenge of your own,” he said, nudging his chin toward the computer screen with a grin. You frowned at him, your gaze drifting back to the cursor as you considered his words.

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You were studying—actually studying—sitting in the mini studio with notes scattered in front of you, calculator by your side, silently frustrated as you tried to make sense of the numbers. Ashley was on the other side of the desk in front of you, pacing and memorizing her lines, back and forth, her voice echoing in the room. Your grip tightened on your pencil, eyes flicking over the work in front of you, when your phone buzzed. Another message.

"We’ve heard about your 'plans,' but it’s hard to take them seriously when you can’t commit. It’s cute to 'explore options,' but at some point, you’ll have to stop playing around and think about your future. Don’t you want to be taken seriously?"

Maybe it was the sound of your phone tapping against the wood of the table, or the way your hand instinctively went to your eyes, trying to stop the threatening tears, that tipped Ashley off. She paused, looking up from her lines, eyes narrowing as she caught the shift in your mood, as she made it to your way, reading the message still open on your phone that had already sunk in, the familiar sting. 

Ashley didn’t hesitate. She pulled you into a hug, still standing while you were sat, one arm wrapping around your shoulders tightly as she murmured, "Fuck them. Seriously. You don’t need their crap." She squeezed you harder, as if to prove the point. "You're better than any of that. Don’t let their bullshit get to you." Her voice was fierce, a protective edge in every word.

The relationship with your parents was complicated, to say the least. You'd tried to make them proud, but it was never enough. Now, more than ever, you’d rebel when you chose to become an actress. It felt ridiculous—like you were still studying against your will, trying to prove something you didn’t even want to.

"I mean, what the fuck will it take for them to take me seriously? A fucking Oscar? Have some damn patience—I’m working on it," you spat, voice shaky, leaning into Ashley as tears threatened to spill.

She sighed, pulling you in a little tighter. “Fuck them,” she muttered, her voice low but firm. “They don’t get it, and honestly, they probably never will. But you’ve got this. You’re doing something they can’t even begin to understand. Don’t let their bullshit get to you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, at least it wasn’t a call. I swear it’s pathetic how every time I get mad, I just cry.”

Ashley pulled you into a tight hug, her voice soft but firm. “Forget about them for a second, okay? You don’t need to study right now. You’ve been working your ass off. Take a break. You’re allowed to feel pissed off without worrying about your grades for a few minutes.” She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all that matters.”

With a last shaky breath and wiping away the tears that had escaped, you nodded. Ashley sighed, her voice soft but firm. “Hey, enough with the studying for now. You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard. Wanna get cute and go out for some coffee?” She gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You deserve a break.”

You chuckled, truly this time, and shook your head. "Maybe later. You finish with your lines, and I’ll… go grab some snacks," she nodded, giving you a smile, picking up the forgotten script.

You were still shaken, even frustrated at how powerless you felt around your parents, and how you reacted to your feelings. You cried, and sometimes words became hard to find. You wished you could scream and destroy everything, just let it all out, like those female rage characters, but for now, you were left in silence.

Which gave you an idea.

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That’s how you ended up creating your character—in a fully cathartic, all-nighter frenzy, shaping her with layers of meaning. Like her nickname, “Woody,” a nod to Nathan’s favorite movie, Toy Story—a little inside joke, a quiet way of taking revenge in your own way.

She was everything you weren’t, and at the same time, everything you were.

And then there was her best friend, Austin—played by Jack, of course, since he was a huge fan of the show—who you took every opportunity to be mean to, just for the fun of it.

You’d never admit it, but the line “Austin is not my boyfriend”? Yeah, that had a little extra bite to it. A double meaning, if you will.

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The producers loved it. The depth of your character, how dark her storyline was. Because if you really want to keep the audience engaged? Give them two characters who are absolutely perfect for each other—but can’t be together.

And when the idea of adding Jack came up, they agreed immediately. What’s better than one City Lights star joining the show? Two City Lights stars.

But they had asked you to keep the secret from everyone, including the current cast. Who you'll be meeting and revealing your characters to in the table reading 

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Jack and you were currently at ABC’s costume department, standing in front of a mirror while the costume designer and a wardrobe assistant made final adjustments to your outfits.

“Man, I’m boiling in here,” you groaned, peeling off the red shirt as the wardrobe assistant jotted down notes about the fit. 

Jack, meanwhile, admired himself in the mirror, dramatically flipping back the leather jacket he was trying on. “Do I look tough? Like, would you trust me with your deepest, darkest secret?” He smirked, striking a pose straight out of an action movie.

The costume designer, pinning a hem on your sleeve, barely glanced up. “You look like an extra in a bad '90s biker film.”

“You look like you're about to challenge a middle schooler to a dance battle,” you added, crossing your arms.

Jack gasped, clutching his chest. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”

“More like zero intimidation factor” You said from the changing room, a few moments later, you stepped out  wearing a white shirt and black vest, and flashed Jack a playful grin. “So, do I finally look like the child my parents can brag about?” you joked, adjusting the vest slightly.

The wardrobe assistant shot you a thumbs up, clearly impressed with the fit.

“Are you maxing out someone's card again?” A voice asked behind you. 

You turned around to see Matthew grinning. You chuckled, scrambling for a response. “Well… I’m not legally allowed to talk about it,” you said, cringing internally.

Man, you were awkward without alcohol in your veins.

He chuckled, stepping closer to pull you into a brief hug in greeting. You’d already worked together on The Beauty Inside, so the familiarity was there—comfortable, easy, playful even.

“So what are you doing here?” He asked.

“Ummm well..” You turned to Jack with panic in your eyes. Jack, ever the performer, didn’t miss a beat. “We’re actually here to stage a heist. High-stakes, top secret.” He waggled his eyebrows.

You groaned, shoving his shoulder. “We’re doing costume fittings.”

Matthew raised a brow, clearly amused. “Costume fittings, huh?” His gaze flickered to the wardrobe racks surrounding you. “For something unannounced?”

You hesitated, your lips pressing into a thin line. “I plead the fifth.”

Jack threw an arm around your shoulders. “She’s under strict secrecy orders, but between us?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “It 's big.”

“Jaaack,” you warned, dragging out the 'a' in a clear sign for him to be careful.

“Well, if you’re in it, I bet it is,” he said, smirking at you.

You chuckled, clearing your throat. “Soo, what are you doing here?”

“Well, this is kinda where I work,” he said with a shrug teasing. Right. This was where the cast of Criminal Minds did their fittings, although the producers had made sure you were not scheduled together to avoid leaks.

You raised an eyebrow, looking around the room. "Here? In the costume department?"

He grinned, clearly enjoying your confusion. "Yep, I mean, what else would I be doing here? Getting my wardrobe ready for my big role?" he added, his tone mock-serious. “What are you supposed to be, by the way? A real estate agent? I bet you’re just one property listing away from a deal of the century,” he said, eyeing your clothes.

You chuckled again. “No, um… I’m actually a very boring banker,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. Like get a hold of yourself girlie, he’s just a tall, handsome man, with nice hair and curls and pretty eyes, and gentle. Somebody, hand me a glass of water, or wine, whichever is easier.

The costume designer called your name, already holding more clothes in her hands. "We need to finish these adjustments, sweetheart."

You nodded, trying to shake off the distraction. "Right, I’ll be right there."

Matthew smirked, taking it as his cue to leave. "I guess I'll let you continue. Good luck being a banker," he teased, giving you one last look.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks, Matthew," you said, turning toward the designer as he walked off.

Jack, who had been quietly observing from the corner, chimed in with a grin. "Yeah, because nothing says ‘big role’ like a banker in slacks."

You shot him a playful glare. "Oh shut up, Johnny Bravo," you joked, laughing as he dramatically posed in response.

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The producers stood at the front of the room, their eyes scanning the assembled cast. There was a buzz in the air—everyone was settling in, ready for the read-through to begin. After a quick round of hellos and some introductions, one of the producers, a tall woman with a clipboard, stood up to speak.

“Alright, everyone, before we dive in, we have a very exciting addition to the cast today. You’re about to meet someone who is going to bring a lot of depth and intensity to the world of Criminal Minds.” The showrunner smiled at you, saying your names and introducing the new character you’d be bringing to life.

Jack, sitting beside you, was doing his best to keep his cool, but the way he gripped his script gave him away. His knuckles were turning white from how tightly he held the pages, and you couldn’t help but smirk. Leaning toward him, you whispered, “That’s not bubble wrap.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and he whisper-shouted, “That’s Mandy Patinkin sitting right there. Do you have any idea how my mom would react if she were here?”

You chuckled under your breath, keeping your eyes on the table. Across from you, Matthew sat diagonally, flipping through the script with a furrowed brow. When he glanced up, he shot you a mock-offended look and mouthed, “Liar.”

You choked back a laugh, quickly mouthing “Sorry” with a small shrug just as the producers began reading.

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The reading session had concluded, and you were chatting with Paget about how much you had loved her in Friends. Meanwhile, Jack was across the room, subtly—well, not so subtly—trying to get an autograph from Mandy.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Matthew making his way toward you, but pretended not to notice, keeping your attention on Paget. You had a feeling he was about to make some kind of remark, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of expecting it.

“You should be careful with her, she lied to me and told me she was going to be some boring banker,” he finally said, warning Paget with a smirk, 

You turned to him with an unimpressed look. “I’ll take that as I’m good at my job”

Paget raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Oh, so she tricked you? That’s embarrassing, Gubler.”

Matthew placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I was misled! Deceived! Here I was, thinking I had met a perfectly normal, unassuming banker, only to find out she’s infiltrating our world.”

She laughed and patted his shoulder before the showrunner called her, leaving you alone with him.

“Nice shoes, by the way,” he said, looking down at your mismatched Converse—one deep red and the other black, matching your red top.

You chuckled. “Thanks. People keep making fun of me on the internet, saying I must've rushed out of the house.”

He laughed and pulled up his pants, revealing his mismatched socks—one purple with yellow dots and the other blue with bananas. “Well, that’s because they’re boring.”

“Oh God, they’re so cool,” you genuinely liked how bizarre they were.

“Hey, I saw your name on the last page of the credits... Did you write those episodes?” he asked, kind of amazed.

“Well, I um... added some minor stuff, really,” you said, lying a little. “Just to make her more sarcastic and fun… like, I can’t wait to get covered in blood for the shots.”

He laughed just as Jack reappeared, clutching his freshly signed Mandy Patinkin autograph like it was the Holy Grail. “I blacked out for half of that conversation, but I think I played it cool.”

“Yeah, sure, if you say so.” You were about to say something more when a producer called for both of you.

With an apologetic smile, you said goodbye to Matthew, but before you turned around, he called out, “Can I get your number this time, or do I have to wish we get cast together again?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you handed him your number. “I guess I’ll wait for your call.”

“You better pick up. There are some scenes I think will need some rehearsal.” His words made your stomach flip, and a flush crept up your face.

Pressing your lips together to stop yourself from smiling too much, you retorted, “You better be quick. My schedule is full.” That made him chuckle.

The producer called for you again, and you made your way toward him and Jack, still feeling the warmth of the moment lingering. You once promised yourself to not-date-coworkers. Maybe if those coworkers weren’t so funny and handsome you wouldn’t reconsider your own words.

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If you want to find out more about the CM character click here!

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[jetii]

Warm

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Words: 10,262

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends with benefits to lovers, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, first date cuteness, accidental love confessions, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral (m recieving), fingering, dirty talk, creampie, inappropriate use of scomp, very loving soft sex actually

Summary: For the first time since the Republic fell, you and Echo find yourself on Pabu with nothing to do but relax, and you're determined to make the most of it. You just have to convince Echo.

A/N: I said this was pwp but I lied, the plot got me girl. This is some of the sweetest smut I have ever written. Echo deserves nothing less.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

"What are you doing?"

You barely pause to look up as you shove another bottle of sunscreen in your bag, casting Echo a wry smile. 

"We're going to the beach, so I'm making sure we're stocked up on sunscreen." You give the bottle in your hand a little shake, as if to illustrate your point. Echo's eyes flick down to it, then back to you, and he crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his weight and making the muscles there ripple distractingly. But you're not going to let him derail you.

"And... why are we going to the beach?" he asks, his tone bemused. You frown at him.

"We're supposed to be taking a break, right?" you ask. "And it's a beautiful day. I figured that we could enjoy it."

The two of you had arrived on Pabu last night, after what had seemed like the longest journey of your life. The moment you'd finally docked, you'd immediately felt the tension in your body start to bleed away, and it only took a few more minutes for Echo to follow suit, his shoulders relaxing and his expression going soft as the two of you walked down the streets toward where the rest of the Batch had made their home.

Now, the two of you are in the kitchen, with its cramped counters and low ceiling and ancient appliances, and for the first time in weeks, neither of you have anything to do. It's a strange feeling. You've been here for less than a day, but already you can feel the weight of all the work and stress and anxiety slowly lifting off your shoulders, leaving you feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Echo, however, does not look particularly pleased at the prospect of having some time to himself. You know he'd rather be working, or training, or just about anything else, really. It's the exact opposite of what you're hoping for.

"Come on," you coax him, "don't you want to have a little fun? You deserve it."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you see him glance out the window toward the beach.

"I don't... think that's a good idea," he says, his voice hesitant. "It's— we're here because—"

"I know why we're here," you cut in. You set down the sunscreen, crossing your arms and leveling him with a look. "And I'm not asking you to swim, or even go near the water. Just sit in the sand, maybe enjoy the sun for a few minutes. I'm sure there's a place to get a decent cup of caf nearby, or maybe one of those little pastry things you like."

He's still looking skeptical, and you know you need to change tactics, so you step closer to him and slide your arms around his neck, tilting your head back and smiling at him coyly. His gaze drops down to your mouth, then flickers back up, and the corner of his lips tugs upward.

"I mean, if you're too scared to come outside with me..."

Echo scoffs, the sound almost offended. He pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, and his voice is a low rumble in your ear.

"You really think that'll work on me?"

"No, not at all," you say with a smirk. You press a kiss to the spot just below his jaw, and he shivers, his fingers flexing against your back. "But I did just get a new swimsuit, and I thought maybe you'd want to see me in it."

The reaction is immediate. You feel Echo's whole body go rigid, his grip tightening around you, and you bite back a smile, trying not to laugh. You look up to see his ears are tinged red, and his eyes are fixed firmly on a point over your shoulder.

"Really?" he says, his voice strained, and you nod.

"Mhm."

You can see him considering it, and when you tilt your head a little more, leaning closer and making sure his attention stays fixed on you, you spot the exact moment his resistance breaks.

"I think you'll like it,” you continue. You're grinning now, knowing that you've already won. "But I guess if you're not interested, I can go to the beach by myself. I'm sure plenty of people will appreciate it."

You step away from him, already starting toward the bedroom the two of you had shared the night before. Before you can get more than a couple steps, though, Echo's arm shoots out, wrapping around your waist and hauling you back against him. You turn to find him smiling down at you, his eyes dancing with amusement, and he leans in, brushing his nose against yours.

"That's not going to happen," he murmurs. He leans in and kisses you, and for a moment, all the stress and tension seems to melt out of his body. He pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours and letting out a little sigh. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to get a little fresh air. But if I get sand in my joints, I'm not going to be happy."

You smile triumphantly and lean forward to peck him on the cheek.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," you murmur, and his ears turn bright red. You grin and duck out of his grasp before he can reply, and Echo lets out a little huff as you head for the stairs, tossing a "get your sunscreen, you're going to burn!" over your shoulder.

When you return a few minutes later, your new swimsuit snugly in place under your clothes, Echo is standing in the doorway, and you stop, staring at him. He's wearing a pair of board shorts, a navy-blue color with a white stripe along each side. They fall a couple inches above his knees, and his broad chest is bare, his skin glowing in the sunlight. You've seen him shirtless plenty of times, but there's something about him wearing these casual clothes, something about the way he looks, relaxed and at ease and not quite as tense, that makes your heart do a funny little flip in your chest.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and you realize you've been staring at him. He has a button down shirt in his hand in an obnoxious floral pattern, one you know he got from one of the boys as a joke. You hadn't expected him to actually wear it, but it makes you smile to think that he's actually embracing the beach-vacation vibe.

"You look good," you say, and your voice comes out a little bit breathy. You clear your throat and try again. "I mean, it's fine. You look fine. Great. I'm—we should go."

You can't read the expression on his face, but his lips are twitching as he tugs the shirt on over his shoulders, and you grab the bag of supplies before turning toward the door.

"Come on," you say, jerking your head for him to follow. "Let's get out of here."

He follows you out, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire time, his gaze lingering on the skin that's visible between the bottom of your cropped shirt and the top of your shorts. When you catch his eye, he grins, not even trying to hide the fact that he's ogling you.

"Shut up," you mutter, but he only grins wider.

The two of you have never done anything like this before. There'd been a couple nights, during the brief respites the two of you had gotten on different missions, where you'd both gone out and had a little fun, but that had always ended the same way, with you heading back to one of your rooms or to a secluded corner and spending the rest of the night wrapped up in each other.

But this, the two of you wandering down the streets together, stopping at a café to get something to eat, laughing and joking together like a real couple... it's nice. Really nice.

You can feel Echo relaxing the longer the two of you walk, and he doesn't hesitate before ordering a caff for the two of you, getting yours the way you like it without having to ask. He holds the door open for you and pays for both of your meals, and by the time the two of you are walking down the beach toward the spot you'd had in mind, his arm slung over your shoulders, you're practically beaming.

The spot is far enough away from the main strip of shops and restaurants to avoid most of the foot traffic, but not so far away that the two of you will have to walk for miles to get back. It's quiet, with most people including the rest of the Batch at work or school or who knows where, and the sound of the waves is soothing.

Still, Echo stays close, his arm hovering near you as if he expects you to suddenly collapse, and he tenses a little whenever someone passes. When the two of you finally reach your spot, he pulls away, turning his back to you while you lay out the blanket.

"Checking for traps?" you ask dryly, and he shrugs, not looking at you.

"Or enemies," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, right."

"Just because we haven't seen any doesn't mean they're not out there," he argues, and you can tell he's about to launch into a full-blown speech, so you reach out and wrap your hand around his wrist, tugging him down to the blanket.

"We're fine," you say. "Really. It's the middle of the day, and I don't think any undercover Imperials are going to try and jump us in the middle of a public beach."

"You never know," he says, and the look on his face tells you he's completely serious. "It wouldn't be the first time."

You roll your eyes and settle down on the blanket, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Well, I'm sure I'll be safe with a big, strong ARC trooper protecting me," you tease, and his expression turns sour. You wink, and his scowl deepens.

"Ha ha," he says, not looking amused.

"I'm kidding," you say, nudging him with your shoulder. You tilt your head, and Echo's eyes are drawn to the long line of your neck. "Let's just... try and forget about that, okay? Let's pretend, for just a little while, that we're normal. We're just a normal couple, and we're having a normal date. Okay?"

He's still frowning, his brow furrowed, but after a moment, he sighs, his shoulders slumping a little.

"Okay," he mutters. "I can do that."

You smile, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, and Echo turns, his mouth finding yours. His hand comes up, his thumb brushing across your cheek, and he pulls you closer, kissing you softly.

You let yourself sink into it, the sound of the ocean and the feeling of the sun on your skin making everything feel a little bit like a dream.

When you break apart, he's smiling, and some of the tension has finally melted from his body.

"So," you say, grinning, "what do you think? About this normal-couple-on-a-date thing?"

"I think... I could get used to it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners, and the sight of him, relaxed and smiling and looking happier than you've seen him in weeks, sends a flood of warmth through your chest. "It's kind of nice, actually."

"Good," you say. "Now take off your shirt. You're going to need a little sunscreen."

Echo's eyebrows lift. “What?”

"Come on," you wheedle, shaking the bottle at him. "Don't worry, I'll help."

"That's not—" he begins, but he doesn't seem to be able to find the words to finish. Finally, he sighs and shrugs out of his shirt, folding it and placing it on the blanket. Before he can say anything else, you move behind him, squeezing a generous amount of the lotion into your hands and rubbing them together.

"I'm going to start with your back," you tell him. You smooth your hands over his shoulders, feeling the soft skin beneath your palms, and his muscles flex beneath your touch. You move your hands over his broad back, covering every inch of exposed skin, and Echo groans as you hit a knot just below his shoulder blade.

"Right there?"

"Yeah," he says. He's practically melting under your touch, and you keep working, kneading your thumbs into the spot. "Force, that feels good."

You don't answer, focusing instead on getting the last bit of sunscreen in his skin. After a moment, he seems to gather himself, and you see him glance at the bottle, his brow furrowing.

"Why do I need sunscreen?" he asks.

"To keep you from burning."

He looks confused.

"You have sensitive skin, remember? And we've been traveling a lot lately, which means you haven't gotten much time in the sun. You don't want to burn."

Echo opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already climbing into his lap, your hands skimming over his shoulders.

"I should get your front, too," you murmur, and his eyes darken. His hand finds your hip, his scomp skimming up your back, and he's looking up at you, his expression open and vulnerable. You can feel the warmth of him through your clothes, and a familiar heat starts to coil in your stomach.

"You're distracting me," he mutters, his gaze flickering down to your lips.

"Is it working?"

"Yes."

You smirk and lean in, brushing a kiss against his mouth before smearing a line of sunscreen down the bridge of his nose. He yel and you pull back, laughing as his face scrunches up in distaste.

"What—"

"That's what you get," you say, grinning. "Come on, let's get the rest of you covered."

Echo grumbles a little but settles back against the blanket. You're thorough, taking care to spread the lotion across his arms and legs, over his broad chest, and down the smooth planes of his stomach. He's warm and pliant under your touch, letting out little noises of contentment whenever you find a particularly tight spot. By the time you've covered the last inch of skin, he looks thoroughly relaxed.

"There," you say, smiling at him. You run your hand down his side, and Echo shudders. "All done."

"Thanks," he says. He opens his eyes, squinting against the sunlight, and frowns. You’re already standing up, dusting sand off your legs, and you see him tense.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

You pause, your hands on the hem of your shirt.

"What does it look like I’m doing?”

He pushes himself up onto his elbows.

"It looks like you're taking off your clothes."

"I am."

You strip off your shirt, and you toss it over his head, smiling as he pulls it away. He freezes, staring at the scrap of fabric in his hand, and his eyes drop to your chest.

"This is..."

"I told you I had a new swimsuit," you remind him as you drop your shorts and step out of them, "and now you get to see it."

He looks like his brain is short circuiting, and his gaze rakes across your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin and the tiny bits of fabric covering the parts that aren't. You grin and turn around, slowly bending over to pick up the discarded shorts. You look back over your shoulder and his eyes are wide, and he swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"See something you like?"

"Uh huh," he says faintly. He licks his lips and tries to drag his eyes up, but they're fixed firmly on the swell of your ass, the way the fabric hugs the curve of it and leaves the skin exposed. His mouth opens, and you know he's trying to find the words, but instead, all that comes out is a faint croak.

"Good," you say. "I'm glad."

You grab the bottle of sunscreen and settle down on the blanket.

"I'm going to need a little help, though," you say. "I can't get my back."

You tilt your head back and Echo nods, the motion slow and almost hypnotized. He stands, crossing the blanket and kneeling down behind you. He waits for you to dispense some into his hand, and his fingers trail across the nape of your neck as he smooths the lotion over your skin. His touch is warm, and gentle, and the feeling sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

It’s rare for the two of you to have this much time alone together, and you can't help but let yourself enjoy it, leaning into his touch. You're not even trying to tease him, but his breath still catches every time his hands sweep lower, his fingers tracing along the waistband of your swimsuit. He takes his time, making sure that not a single inch of skin is left uncovered, and by the time he's done, the tension between the two of you is practically crackling.

He sits back, his hand still lingering on the small of your back, and the two of you are quiet. He's staring at you, and there's something different about the way he's looking at you, something almost... reverent.

You've always known he wants you, have been able to read it on his face and in his touch, but this, the way he's staring at you now, is more than that. It's desire, yes, but there's something deeper, something softer and sweeter, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The two of you haven't done anything like this before. Even your previous trysts had been frantic and rushed, a matter of stolen moments in darkened rooms and shadowy corners. But here, the two of you are exposed, out in the open where anyone could see, and yet the thought doesn't fill you with dread or worry. It's thrilling, in a way, and the fact that Echo doesn't seem to care either way just adds to it.

But despite that, neither of you make a move. You sit there, both of you watching each other, and you know that if you gave the slightest indication, he'd pounce, and the two of you would be wrapped up in each other, just like all those times before. But for the first time, you don't want that. You want him to stay just like this, watching you, and for you to watch him in turn.

So, instead, you reach out and brush your thumb over his bottom lip, and he sighs, his eyelids fluttering closed. He's warm under your touch, his lips slightly chapped from the wind, and he leans into you, pressing a kiss to your palm. His scomp skims up your back, the metal warm from the sun, and he pulls you close.

You press yourself against his chest, tucking your head into the space between his neck and shoulder, and his arm comes around to wrap around your waist, holding you there.

It's peaceful, the two of you sitting together like that. It feels normal, and right, and the feeling that settles over you is warm and comfortable, like being wrapped up in a blanket. It's perfect, and you never want it to end.

But, like all good things, it eventually has to, and Echo's comm chirps. The noise seems to echo across the sand, shattering the fragile bubble of peace the two of you have found. He pulls away, digging through the pockets of his shorts, and he swears under his breath.

“Rex,” he says as he holds up the comm. You nod, and he activates it, and the captain's voice crackles through.

"Echo, I just sent over some new intel. Can you check it out? It might be a lead on the ship."

"Yeah, of course," Echo replies, though his tone is a little hesitant. He glances over at you, his brows drawing together, and you force a smile, ignoring the way your heart has plummeted into the pit of your stomach.

"Duty calls," you say, trying for levity.

Echo hesitates, glancing at the comm and back at you, and he lets out a sigh.

“Everything okay?” Rex asks.

Echo doesn't answer, not looking away from you. You give him a reassuring smile, and his expression clears, his mouth twitching a little as if he's thinking.

"Everything's fine," he says finally. “I'm a little busy right now, but I'll look over the intel and get back to you later."

There’s a moment of silence, and you hold your breath, wondering if Rex will call him out. But instead, he laughs.

"Busy, huh?"

Echo rolls his eyes.

"Yeah," he says. He shifts, pulling you closer, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Something like that."

"All right, fine," Rex says, and he sounds amused. "Glad you’re enjoying your vacation."

"I'm— yeah. Thanks, Rex."

"Bye, Rex," you add, leaning closer and raising your voice a little. Echo smirks, and he cuts the transmission.

"So," you say, "you're just going to ignore the fact that we got called in for work, huh?"

"No," Echo replies, looking defensive. He sets the comm aside, reaching out to take your hand. "We're on a break. They can handle things without us for a day or two."

You smile at him, and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, his eyes soft.

"Who are you and what have you done with Echo?" you tease. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, but when Echo's grip on your hand tightens, you freeze, a jolt running down your spine.

He scowls, his mouth twisting, and his eyes flicker away from you, looking out across the water. His hand falls away from yours, and his shoulders slump, the easy happiness that had surrounded him moments ago bleeding away.

"Don't say that," he mutters.

"What? Why not?"

"I just..."

He looks frustrated, and a little lost, and you wait, giving him time to find the words. His mouth is open, but he closes it, letting out a harsh sigh through his nose. His brow furrows, and he stares down at his lap, his jaw clenched tight.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, your hand finding his. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I—" he stops, closing his eyes. "I know."

He takes a deep breath, his hand turning to lace his fingers through yours.

"I'm tired," he says finally, his voice small. "I'm tired of... not getting to be with you, because we're always running, or on a mission, or just never in the same place. We never get a chance to be alone, and it's..."

His brow furrows, and his lips press together, as if he's frustrated.

"It's not enough," he says, and there's a note of finality to it, like the decision has been made. "And I'm done with it. So unless the galaxy is literally ending, I'm not leaving until we've had a chance to enjoy ourselves a little."

"And what if the galaxy is ending?"

"Then I'm sure Rex and the rest of the boys will take care of it," Echo says. He grins at you, looking proud of himself, and you laugh, shaking your head. "Until then, I'm staying here with you. And," he adds, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the side of your jaw, "you can distract me from thinking about work, if you want."

You lean into him, letting him press another kiss to your neck.

"Hmm," you murmur, pretending to think. "I guess I could do that. After all, we are supposed to be on a date."

"Exactly," he says. He smiles against your skin, and the feeling makes you shiver. "Come on, we can't let the day go to waste."

"I mean, there is one thing we can do," you say, grinning mischievously.

Echo's eyes darken, and his voice is a low rumble.

"What's that?"

You smile and stand, reaching down and tugging him up.

"Swim!"

He groans, and you laugh, ducking out of his grasp and darting for the waves. He's faster, though, and he catches you easily, his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you off the ground.

"Echo!" you yelp. You can hear the waves lapping against the shore, and you struggle in his grip. "Don't you dare! Don't you—"

"Sorry," he says, not sounding the least bit apologetic, and you shriek as he tosses you into the surf. You land with a splash, the cool water enveloping you, and you break the surface, pushing the wet strands of hair out of your face.

Echo is watching you, looking smug, and you glare at him.

"What's the matter?" he asks, feigning innocence. "Not having fun?"

You splutter a little, wiping the water from your eyes, and you launch yourself at him. You can't actually pick him up, and he doesn't fall, but the move does throw him off balance, and he stumbles backward, almost falling into the water. You laugh and try to shove him again, but his arm comes around your waist, holding you steady.

"Is that how it's going to be?"

You grin, and the two of you wrestle, the sounds of your laughter carrying over the waves.

"Oh, no, please!" Echo yelps. He tries to fend you off, and you laugh, ducking around his arms and splashing water up at him. "Mercy!"

"Never," you declare. You grab his shoulders, and he lets you push him under the waves. He comes up sputtering, and his arm comes around your waist, dragging you down with him.

You both surface, and Echo is laughing, the sound loud and free and happier than you've ever heard him. It sends a surge of warmth through your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you're leaning in and kissing him.

Echo kisses you back, his hands finding your waist. He's warm against you, even with the cool water lapping around your bodies, and his lips are soft and gentle. It's the opposite of the way you usually kiss him, all tongue and teeth and bruising hands, and it makes your chest ache, makes the longing that's always present whenever he's around swell a little bigger.

He must feel it too, because his grip on you tightens, and he hauls you closer, the two of you clinging to each other like your life depends on it.

When you break apart, he doesn't let go, and neither do you. The two of you stand there for a long time, breathing in sync, and for a moment, everything seems to slow. There's no war, no missions, no responsibilities or tasks. There's just you and him and the feeling of the ocean around you, the two of you pressed so close together it's hard to tell where one of you ends and the other begins.

“So,” he starts, his forehead pressing against yours. “What else do normal couples do on dates, anyway?"

You grin and step back, taking his hand.

"Come on, I'll show you."

And you do. The two of you spend the afternoon walking along the beach, collecting shells and talking, and occasionally, the two of you find yourselves making out like a couple of teenagers, hands roaming over each other and mouths moving frantically together. It's not until the sun is beginning to set that the two of you finally wander back up the hill to the house, and by the time you're back in the kitchen, Echo has you pinned against the counter, his mouth hot and demanding against yours.

"We're supposed to be getting ready for dinner," you mumble, even as you tilt your head, giving him better access to your neck.

"Fuck dinner," Echo growls. He nips at the skin just below your ear, and you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

You're both still wet from the water, and you can feel him, hot and hard and pressing insistently against your hip. Your own desire surges, and suddenly the thought of a crowded restaurant or a stuffy dining room is the last thing you want.

"I've got a better idea," you murmur, and he groans against your neck.

"Tell me," he breathes, and the feeling of his breath against your skin makes you shiver.

"Shower," you manage. The word has barely left your lips before he's pulling away, tugging you after him as he heads for the stairs.

The two of you don't make it far, and neither of you seems to care. As soon as the door to the bedroom is closed behind him, he's crowding you up against it, his hands sliding under your shirt and his mouth hot on yours. You can feel him, hard and insistent against you, and he groans, grinding his hips against you.

"Gods, I missed this," he pants. He nips at your ear, his teeth scraping across the skin. "Missed you. Missed touching you and kissing you and—"

"Shower," you repeat, gasping as he bites down on your shoulder. "Now.”

"Whatever you want," he mumbles.

He pulls back, and the two of you race down the hall, stripping out of your clothes as you go. He's in the fresher before you, the water already on, and by the time you step in behind him, he's got his back pressed to the tile, his cock hard and heavy between his legs.

You step inside, the water cascading down around the two of you, and Echo's gaze drops, raking over your body. You can see him, taking in the way the water streams over your skin, and the way his eyes darken sends a thrill through you.

You don't bother teasing him. Instead, you push him up against the wall, dropping to your knees and pressing a line of kisses down his stomach. His hand drops to your hair, tangling in the wet strands, and he lets out a choked moan.

"This is a date, right?" you ask, smiling innocently up at him. He nods, his gaze fixed firmly on you, and his grip on your hair tightens. "Good. I've always wanted to give someone a blowjob on a first date."

"Oh, fuck," he moans, and his head thumps back against the wall.

You take him into your mouth, and his fingers tighten in your hair. You look up at him, watching as his expression twists, his brow furrowing and his jaw clenching, and the sight sends a thrill through you.

Echo isn't big on talking during sex. Most of the time, it's just groans and whines, with the occasional curse or muttered endearment. But now, his words seem to be spilling from his lips, the filthiest things you've ever heard pouring out as you suck and lick and take him deeper into your mouth.

"Yes, just like that," he groans, his hips jerking a little. His scomp slides up the wall, searching for purchase, and the sound of the metal scraping against the tile sends a rush of heat through you. "Your mouth is so good, sweetheart. So perfect. Fuck, I can't wait to get inside you."

His fingers are tangled in your hair, not pulling or tugging, just holding you in place. You're practically dripping, and you can feel your cunt clench, the ache in your core growing with every filthy thing that falls from his lips.

"Look at you," he mutters, his voice ragged. His eyes are fixed on the spot where his cock disappears into your mouth, and you hum, the vibrations making him shiver. "Gorgeous. Look so good on your knees for me."

You keep going, working him over until his voice is cracking, his words dissolving into incoherent moans and gasps.

"Fuck," he hisses, his hips stuttering a little. He's close, you can tell, his muscles trembling and his breathing ragged. "Stop. Need— want to—"

He tugs at your hair, trying to pull you off, and you ignore him, keeping up the pace. His words dissolve into a string of curses, and you look up at him, blinking innocently and hollowing your cheeks.

That's all it takes.

"Shit," he manages. "I'm— I'm gonna—"

His cock twitches, and his eyes squeeze shut, his face twisting as he comes, his mouth falling open. He shudders, and you swallow, keeping your eyes on him as his chest heaves, his muscles quivering.

You keep going until he's trembling, his hand pushing weakly at your head, and you let him slide from your lips, sitting back on your heels and grinning up at him. He's slumped against the wall, looking absolutely wrecked, and you smirk, reaching for the bottle of shampoo and standing up.

"Feel good?" you ask, and he nods, his eyes glazed and his lips parted.

"So good," he mumbles. "Need a minute."

"Take your time," you say, stepping around him and putting a generous amount of shampoo in your hands. You work it into your hair, feeling him watching you, and you smile to yourself, humming as you wash the salt from your skin.

"You're evil," he murmurs. He presses up behind you, his mouth dropping to the side of your neck.

"I think the term you're looking for is generous," you tease.

"That, too."

He kisses the spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing against the skin. His hand finds your waist, and his scomp slides up your arm, tugging your hand away from your hair.

"Let me," he murmurs, and you nod. He gently works the suds out, his hand running through your hair and sending pleasant shivers down your spine. His scomp slides down, brushing over the side of your breast, and his other hand joins, the water raining down on the two of you.

"You're beautiful," he says, and you turn your head, looking back at him. He's watching you, his expression open and unguarded, and there's a look in his eyes that makes your breath catch in your throat. "I'm so lucky."

"Echo," you start, but the words die on your lips as his scomp skims lower, brushing against your hip and slipping between your legs. The tip finds your clit, and you gasp, arching back against him.

"So beautiful," he repeats. He rubs tight circles over your clit, his scomp moving slowly, almost lazily, and you lean back, resting your head on his shoulder. His arm comes around your waist, and his hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing against the nipple. "You're amazing, sweetheart. I love watching you."

You moan and turn your head to press your mouth against his. He kisses you, his hand cupping your jaw, and you gasp as his scomp moves a little faster.

"I love the noises you make," he murmurs. He nips at the corner of your jaw, his tongue darting out to soothe the sting. "Love the way you taste, the way you feel."

He's everywhere, his lips pressing against the side of your neck, his hand sliding down your stomach and between your legs, his fingers brushing against where you're aching for him. He presses them into you, and his thumb replaces his scomp, the tip  tracing patterns over your thigh as his fingers curl, finding that spot inside of you that makes you shudder.

"Echo," you gasp, the sound practically a sob. You reach back, grabbing onto his neck, and he hums, his arm tightening around you.

"I love being inside you," he says, and his voice is ragged, the sound sending a pulse of heat through you. His cock is hard again, pressing insistently against your ass, and his hips grind forward, the feeling of his body against yours sending a rush of warmth through you.

"Want that," you gasp. "Want you."

"You have me," he murmurs. He adds a third finger, and you whine, your nails digging into his neck.

"Not enough."

He grins against your skin, and the motion makes something inside you snap. You're suddenly desperate for him, for the feeling of him filling you up and driving away the ache that's been building for weeks. You try and turn, but his arm keeps you in place, and he chuckles, his thumb moving a little faster.

"Wait," he says.

"Echo, please," you beg, and he groans, his teeth grazing over your skin.

"Patience," he murmurs. "You can wait a little longer."

He presses his lips to the side of your neck, and his fingers work, curling and thrusting and making your whole body go tight. His arm is solid around you, holding you in place, and the thought of him, surrounding you, pinning you to the spot and taking what he wants, sends a rush of heat through you.

"Please," you whisper, and his fingers twist, his thumb moving faster. "I'm gonna—"

"Yeah," he breathes. "That's it. Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see you."

The sound of his voice, the feeling of his fingers moving inside you and his cock pressed against you is too much. You break, coming with a loud cry, and he keeps going, working you through it. Your body goes limp, and Echo holds you, keeping his fingers buried inside you and his scomp drawing tight circles over your clit. You whimper and try to push him away, the sensations too much, but he doesn't stop, not until a second wave hits and you're writhing, clinging to him for dear life.

By the time he finally pulls away, your legs are trembling, and you're panting, slumped against him and unable to do anything but whimper as he turns the water off and steps out of the shower.

You don't register him drying you off or lifting you and carrying you down the hall, and it's not until the door to the bedroom closes behind him that your brain finally clears enough to form coherent thoughts.

"Echo," you say.

He looks down at you, smiling softly, and he kisses you, the press of his lips warm and gentle. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. He lays you down on the bed, his eyes drinking in every inch of you, and it's so tender, so sweet that the emotion wells up, filling your chest until you're sure it will burst.

It's only been a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. The longing, the worry, the fear... it's been eating away at you, and being here with him, like this, makes the stress and anxiety from the past month melt away, leaving you feeling more at peace than you have in weeks.

He's always been the calm in the storm. You've lost track of the number of times you've lain awake at night, wondering if this was the last time, if this would be the one where something went wrong and neither of you came home. He's always been there, a solid presence, an unwavering support, and the thought of losing him is almost too much to bear.

But here, in this moment, there's nothing but the two of you. There's no war, or missions, or fighting or running. It's just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, safe and warm and together.

And in that moment, you're so happy, you think your heart might explode.

He lays down next to you, his hand finding your waist, and you kiss him, your hands cupping his jaw and stubble scraping across your palms. It's gentle and unhurried, the two of you taking the time to relearn each other. The feeling of his mouth against yours, his skin under your hands, his body pressed against you is almost overwhelming, and you find yourself clinging to him, holding him as close as you can and trying to commit the feeling to memory.

It's not until he rolls on top of you that the slow, lazy pace breaks.

You gasp, his mouth hot and demanding against yours, and his cock presses insistently against your thigh. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he groans, grinding his hips down.

"Want you," you manage. Your hands run over his back, sliding down and gripping his ass.

"You have me," he says, his voice rough. He kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the soft skin.

"Inside," you gasp, and he moans, his mouth dropping lower, his lips moving over the swell of your breasts.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, I want that."

"Come on," you say, pushing at his shoulders. He sits up and kneels between your legs, and he reaches down, stroking his cock and giving it a firm squeeze. He looks massive from this angle, his broad chest and shoulders towering over you, and the sight makes something clench deep in your core.

"I don't want to rush," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to the apex of your thighs. "Want to take my time."

You sit up, and his hand finds your waist, pulling you forward and into his lap. Your arms wind around his neck, and his scomp slides up the length of your back, pressing you closer.

"We have time," you tell him, and his eyes are dark and soft and full of a tenderness that makes your heart flutter.

"Yeah," he says. "We do."

You press a kiss to his cheek, and his hand drops between the two of you, gripping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. His mouth finds yours as the thick head slides into you, and it's slow, so agonizingly slow, you're sure he's trying to drive you insane.

You don't remember him being this big.

You know that's ridiculous, that of course he's still the same size, but the thought has a whimper falling from your lips. You try and grind down, needing more, but his arm comes around, pinning you to his chest, and he shakes his head.

"You're killing me," you mutter, and his teeth flash in the fading sunlight, his eyes dancing.

"I can stop," he teases.

"Don't you dare," you say, and he chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He keeps going, the steady, agonizing pressure of his cock pushing inside making your whole body go tense. You can feel the way he's stretching you open, the way your body has to make room for him, and the thought makes your mind blank, the ache in your core growing.

By the time he's finally, finally all the way inside, the two of you are breathing heavily. He’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been, and the stretch is just shy of painful. It makes your hips jerk a little, and Echo lets out a moan, his hand finding your hip and his fingers digging into the soft skin.

"You're perfect," he mumbles, and you laugh, the sound turning into a moan as he grinds his hips up, pushing a little deeper.

You cling to him, his arms coming around you and pulling you closer. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him pull you closer, as close as possible. The two of you stay like that, holding each other and letting the sensation wash over you.

Eventually, the pressure becomes too much, and you start to squirm, shifting and rocking your hips. Echo takes the hint and starts to move, and the first slow, lazy thrust makes the both of you moan.

He starts a rhythm, and it's like the entire galaxy has narrowed down to just the two of you. Nothing else matters, just the feeling of his cock sliding into you, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the feeling of his heartbeat against your skin.

You know how much he loves being inside you. He's always told you, whispered it against the skin of your neck, moaned it in the dead of night, panted it while you rode him, the words falling from his lips like a prayer. He never seems to tire of it, always desperate to get as deep as possible, and sometimes, you've wondered if there's a part of him that's afraid this will be the last time.

But he's never done it like this.

He's never held you in his arms and pressed kisses to your skin, his hand and scomp running reverently over every inch of your body. He's never taken his time, his hips rocking forward in a steady, measured rhythm, his mouth finding yours again and again. He's never let himself drown in the feeling of it, his eyes half-closed and his face twisted in an expression of pure bliss.

He's never made love to you before.

You've never put a name to it, the way the two of you are together. You've always been careful not to call it anything, knowing that doing so would cross a line neither of you wanted to. It's dangerous, the sort of thing that can break hearts and destroy lives, and you'd both known it. So you'd never said it, never acknowledged it, and had kept it to yourselves, locked away where no one else could ever see.

But now, with his arms wrapped around you, his touch tender and his mouth soft against yours, there's no other word for it. It's the only explanation for the feeling, the one that's welling up inside of you and threatening to swallow you whole, and the realization sends a thrill through you, settling in the pit of your stomach and burning like a sun.

He's making love to you.

You hold him closer, your hand gripping the back of his neck, and his lips find yours, warm and soft. He doesn't say anything, his gaze fixed firmly on your face, and his brow is furrowed, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning.

"So beautiful," he mumbles. His hand runs over your waist, squeezing lightly, and he lets out a shaky breath. "I love this. Love you."

Your breath catches, and for a second, it feels like the world stops. The only sound is his breathing, the only feeling is his hand on your skin, and the only thing that exists is him.

"Echo," you whisper, and his name is a question, the only thing you can manage.

He doesn't seem to hear you, or maybe he doesn't understand.

"Love seeing you like this," he mumbles, his gaze flitting over your face. "Love touching you, love being with you. I don't—"

He breaks off, and his head drops, his nose brushing against your jaw. His breathing is ragged, and his grip on you tightens, and something tells you he didn't mean to say that, didn't mean for those words to fall from his lips.

His hips slow, and he holds you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck and taking a deep, shuddering breath. You can feel him, his entire body trembling, and you pull him closer, your fingers cradling the back of his head and holding him against you.

"It's okay," you say softly, pressing a kiss to his temple.

His scomp skims down your back, the metal still warm from the sun and the warm water. It's a tender gesture, and the fact that he's using it to hold you, instead of his hand, is a testament to how far the two of you have come.

"I love this," he murmurs, and you know what he means.

He doesn't want to leave, doesn't want to go back to the war and the fighting and the constant struggle. He wants to stay, with you, just like this, forever. And as much as you want that, the two of you both know it's not an option.

"Me too," you murmur.

"I wish..."

"Yeah," you breathe. "Me too."

"I love you," he says again.

You swallow, and there's a lump in your throat, a feeling that seems to settle over you, making your skin feel warm and your pulse thrum. You're not sure what it is, but you know that this, whatever it is, is important, that it means something, and the sudden urge to run from it, to shove it down and push it away, is strong. But Echo’s always been there for you, a steady, unwavering presence, and even though you're terrified, the knowledge that he's here, that he won't leave, settles something in you, and the feeling starts to shift.

Instead of the warmth, it's like a fire, burning away the anxiety and the fear, and the knowledge that comes with it makes you feel lighter than you have in months. You're not sure what it means, or what you'll do with it, but there's a sense of comfort in it, and the smile that stretches across your face is genuine.

"I love you, too," you say.

He makes a strangled noise, and his grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into the skin.

"I love you," he repeats, the words falling from his lips. "Force, I love you. So much. I love you."

He says it over and over, the words spilling out of him. He's still hard inside you, and the feeling sends a bolt of heat through you, your cunt clenching around him. He gasps, his hips grinding forward, and he moans, the sound muffled against your skin.

"Please," you whimper, your nails scraping against the back of his neck.

"Anything," he gasps, and his hips start to move, slow and steady.

It's not frenzied, or frantic, and it doesn't need to be. You have time, all the time in the world, and for once, neither of you are trying to race the clock. He's gentle, his movements languid and unhurried, every thrust like a wave, pulling you deeper and deeper.

He's murmuring the whole time, his voice low and rough, the words tumbling from his lips. He's talking about everything, about the way he feels about you, about the things he wants, the places he wants to take you. It's filthy, and sweet, and so perfect, and you let the words wash over you, reveling in the feeling of him inside you and the way his voice makes your stomach clench.

"Echo," you whine, your thighs tightening around his waist. "Close."

"I've got you," he murmurs. His hand slips between the two of you, his thumb finding the swollen, slippery bud of your clit, rubbing slow circles over it. "That's it, sweetheart. Come for me."

The pleasure builds, slowly and steadily, until you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel. It's intense and intimate, Echo's eyes fixed firmly on your face, his lips parted in awe. You feel open, exposed, vulnerable, and the only thing that makes it bearable is the fact that he's right there with you, his expression twisted and his muscles trembling, his control slipping more and more with each passing second.

"Please," you beg, and his hips speed up, his rhythm faltering as he starts to lose his grip.

"Come for me," he gasps. "Let go. I'll take care of you."

And you do, his words sending a flood of warmth through you, spreading out until you can feel it everywhere, in every part of your body. Your cunt pulses, clenching around him, and Echo groans, his eyes squeezing shut and his mouth dropping open.

"Fuck," he chokes out. He doesn't slow, doesn't stop, just keeps fucking you through it, and you're shaking, clinging to him and shuddering as the pleasure keeps building. "Shit, sweetheart. You feel so good."

"Love the way you feel," you manage, your voice hoarse and strained. "So full. Love your cock, love you."

He curses, his hips jerking, and his scomp digs into the skin of your back, holding you tighter. His hand leaves your clit, and he grabs your thigh, wrapping his arm around your leg and hiking it higher. The angle changes, and he hits something inside of you that makes you sob, his hips snapping forward.

"Again," he grunts.

You nod, the feeling so intense that you can't manage words. You're practically sobbing, the sounds falling from your lips without thought, and Echo's gaze is fixed on you, his expression hungry and awestruck.

"Fuck," he growls, his thrusts getting more and more erratic. "Come on, sweetheart. Want to feel you. Wanna watch you come. Gonna fill you up. Make you mine."

It's filthy, the things he's saying, and you're lost in him, his hand gripping your waist and his scomp pressed into the small of your back. His gaze is burning, and it feels like the room is spinning, like the world is coming apart at the seams and there's nothing left but the two of you, moving together.

"I can't—"

"That's it," he encourages, his voice rough. He's shaking, and you know he's close. "One more. Come on."

You can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks, and his eyes are wide, his expression stunned.

"Please," you gasp. "Echo, please."

"Fuck," he breathes.

It's like a switch has been flipped, and the slow, steady pace falls apart, his thrusts hard and fast. He surges forward, your back hitting the bed, and his scomp slides under your back, lifting you off the mattress.

It's too much, the new angle and the way he's staring at you, and a sob breaks from your throat, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Gorgeous," he breathes. "You're perfect. I love you."

There's a moment, a heartbeat where it seems like everything is suspended. His eyes are wide, and he looks almost... shocked, as if he can't believe what's happening, and something tells you that it's not just about this, about the two of you. It's bigger, somehow, deeper and more profound and the feeling that washes over you is pure, unadulterated joy.

And you can see it on his face, in the way his eyes widen and his mouth drops open. He looks like he's about to burst, and it's so raw, so perfect, and the realization hits you like a blaster bolt.

He's happy.

He's the happiest you've ever seen him, and the fact that it's because of you is overwhelming.

"Love you," he murmurs, and it's the last thing either of you say before the feeling crashes over the two of you.

You cry out, and the dam breaks. The pleasure rushes through you, hot and cold, and the waves break, sweeping over the both of you and carrying you away.

You come with a choked gasp, his name on your lips and his fingers digging into the skin of your thigh. His hips snap forward, and he grinds into you, his face twisting and a loud moan falling from his mouth at the way your body pulls him in, squeezing and pulsing around him.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes.

You cling to him, your eyes fixed on his face. He's beautiful like this, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed, his expression twisted into an expression of pure ecstasy. He holds himself there, buried to the hilt inside you as he starts to come, the first pulse of heat making you whimper.

You can feel his cock twitch, and his brow furrows, a broken sob falling from his lips. His grip on your thigh tightens, and his hips start to stutter, grinding into you and filling you up, his come dripping from you. He lets out another choked noise, and he falls forward, his weight settling on top of you and his mouth finding yours.

"So perfect," he pants, his hips rocking forward a few more times, his movements lazy and slow.

You can't respond, still gasping for air, and you can feel the way he's twitching, the way his body is shaking. It feels like forever before the feeling finally fades and Echo pulls back slightly, mindful of his weight. You can feel him dripping from where the two of you are connected, and you bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Hi," you whisper, and he laughs, the sound breathless and a little giddy.

"Hi," he replies, grinning.

Echo's chest is heaving, his muscles quivering, and he looks absolutely wrecked. He's staring at you, his lips parted and his eyes wide, and he's looking at you the way people look at the sun after they've spent too long in the dark, like he's seeing something for the first time and never wants to look away.

"I love watching you," he says, his voice raw and hoarse. "Wish you could see yourself."

"Yeah?"

He nods and reaches up, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face.

"So gorgeous," he murmurs. "Perfect. Wish I could stay inside you forever."

You hum, and his gaze drops, watching as he finally slides out, a trickle of his release following. He swallows, and he reaches down, his thumb slipping between your folds.

"Echo," you whine, your hips jerking a little.

"Gonna miss that," he mumbles, his tone almost dreamy.

"We've got a few days," you remind him. "And I'm not done with you yet."

He grins, and it's so boyish, so genuine and unguarded, that you find yourself reaching for him. Your hands slide up his chest, over the broad expanse of his shoulders and his neck, and your fingers brush over the spot just below his ear, tracing the edge of his jaw.

Echo leans into your touch, his eyes closing, and his head turns, his lips pressing against the inside of your wrist. You shiver and lean forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. He wrinkles it, his eyes still closed, and you can't help the laugh that falls from your lips.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," you say, and he cracks one eye open, looking suspicious.

"You're laughing," he accuses.

"Because you're adorable."

His lips part, and his eyebrows rise. He doesn't say anything, but his face flushes, his cheeks going pink, and you grin.

"That's the last word I'd use to describe myself," he mutters. “Especially when I’m still inside you.”

"I think I'm the best judge of that," you point out, and he smirks, his eyes glinting.

"Well, if that's the case, I'd have to say the same about you," he teases, and he leans forward, nipping at the soft skin just below your ear. You yelp, and he chuckles, pressing another kiss to your shoulder before he pulls away, searching for his pants.

"Where are you going?" you whine.

"To order food," he says. He tugs his pants on, and the sight of him, completely naked except for the loose fitting black cargo pants, is enough to make your mouth water. "I'm starving, and if I'm going to keep this up, I'm gonna need my strength."

"You mean it?" you ask.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Did you really think I'd pass up the opportunity to have sex with the woman I love all day? In an actual bed? With an actual door that locks?"

Your heart flutters, and you grin.

"No, but I'm still glad to hear it."

"Good," he says. He walks back over, leaning down and kissing you, his lips warm and his stubble scraping against your skin.

"Order some food," you murmur, and he nods. "And maybe a bottle of wine."

"Whatever you want," he says. He steps away, and his gaze flits over you, taking in the way you're sprawled across the bed, still naked and covered in sweat and your combined release. He swallows and shakes his head, backing toward the door.

"I'll be back soon," he promises. He points a finger at you. "Don't move."

You give him a salute, and he grins, his eyes dancing.

"I love you," he says, and it's so easy, the words falling from his lips like they've always been there.

"I love you," you tell him, and the smile he gives you is enough to light up the entire room.

The door closes behind him, and you collapse back onto the pillows, closing your eyes and letting yourself revel in the feeling of the bed beneath you, the cool air drifting over your heated skin, and the lingering ache between your thighs.

This isn't how you imagined this week would go. You'd thought that it would be a brief respite, a chance to relax before heading back to the fight. You'd expected a week of stress and anxiety, of wondering if it would be the last one, and whether or not you'd get to spend any of it with the man we’re falling for despite your better judgement.

Instead, you're here, lying in a bed, in a place where there's no war and no missions and no responsibilities. For the first time in months, there's no one depending on you, no one waiting for you to save them, and no one demanding things from you that you're not sure you can give.

It's peaceful, and it's perfect, and the thought that Echo, the man who's seen and experienced more than anyone should ever have to, feels the same makes you smile.

For the first time since the war started, everything is good.

You let your eyes fall closed, and the sound of the waves is soothing, the faint noise carrying up the hill.

In the end, it's not the ocean or the house or the fact that for once, you have nothing to do.

It's him.

Echo.

He's the reason this feels like home.

And in the end, you know that's the only thing that really matters.

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[pickingupmymercedes]

Your future was Ferrari - 1 / ?

Chapters - 1 / 2

Reupload

summary: She was finally making her dreams come true, but as the old saying goes "when it rains, it pours" and maybe the nudge Charles gave her might get her somewhere she would never find on her own.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Ferrari Engineer!Reader!

warnings: alusion to mature content.

wordcount: +3K

a/n: Reuploading this one with some minor changes because I'm actually going to write more chapters

a/n. 2: I'm creating a different and specific taglist for this series, so if you want to be tagged, let me know.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

MILD CONTENT UNDER, -16 PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

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The fireworks over the Yas Marina Circuit lit up the Abu Dhabi night sky like a kaleidoscope of dreams, each burst of color a fleeting reminder of the 2023 Formula 1 season that had just come to a close.

The air was filled with the scent of champagne, burnt rubber, and the saltiness of the Persian Gulf. The circuit transformed into a playground of celebration. Teams packed up their garages, exchanging handshakes, hugs, and promises to do it all over again next year.

But for you, this wasn’t just the end of a season—it was the beginning of something you’d spent your entire life working toward.

You stood at the entrance to one of the end-of-season parties, your fingers nervously smoothing down the wrinkles in your pants for what felt like the hundredth time. The fabric refused to cooperate, as if it, too, was mocking your attempt to look like you belonged.

“I don’t belong in this type of party,” you muttered under your breath, your inner voice dripping with sarcasm.

Oh, sure, Y/n, because a girl who spends her days elbow-deep in engine grease and data logs is totally the life of the party. What’s next? Are you going to start quoting torque specs to the drivers?

This wasn’t just any party. It was the party though. The one where the who’s who of Formula 1 gathered to toast their successes, drown their failures, and, if the rumors were true, make deals that would shape the next season.

And you had your own reason to celebrate. After years of grinding, of sleepless nights and endless sacrifices, you were finally moving to Ferrari.

The red team. The dream team. The team your father had whispered about in bedtime stories when you were just a kid.

It was surreal, and yet, here you were, standing at the edge of it all, feeling like an imposter in your own skin.

The venue was a blur of opulence—crystal chandeliers casting soft light over sleek, modern furniture, the hum of conversation punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter.

The air was alive with the clinking of glasses and the low thrum of music. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face, someone to anchor you in this sea of glamour and fame. And just as the first tendrils of panic began to creep in, you saw him.

Charles. Your former colleague from your Alpha Romeo days. His face lit up when he spotted you, and he waved you over with that easy, confident charm that had always made him so damn likable.

“Y/n!” he called out, his voice cutting through the noise like a beacon. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it” you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of nerves raging inside you. He pulled you into a hug, and for a moment, the tension in your shoulders eased.

As the night wore on, Charles became your unofficial tour guide, introducing you to everyone he could find dressed in Ferrari red. The conversations were a mix of technical jargon and casual banter, the kind of small talk that came easily when everyone was riding the end of a season.

But beneath the surface, your mind was racing. This was your world now. These were your people. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still on the outside looking in.

It wasn’t until Charles leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face, that the night took a turn you hadn’t seen coming.

“I dare you to go hit on Lewis,” he said, his tone light but his eyes sparkling with challenge.

You blinked at him, your brain short-circuiting for a moment. “You must be joking” you replied, your voice tinged with disbelief. But Charles’s grin only widened, and you realized he was dead serious.

“Come on” he urged, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve had the biggest crush on him since forever. What’s the worst that could happen? He says no? At least you can say you took the chance.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips.

Because deep down, a part of you was curious. Lewis Hamilton wasn’t just a seven-time world champion; he was a legend, a god in the world you loved so much.

And yeah, maybe you’d had a crush on him since your late teen years, but that was before you knew better. Before you knew the stories, the rumors, the endless parade of women who had come and gone in his life.

Lewis Hamilton wasn’t the kind of man who settled down. He was the kind of man who left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. And you? You weren’t naive enough to think you’d be any different.

But you were also three drinks in.

“Screw it,” you muttered under your breath, your inner voice chiming in with a sarcastically.

Famous last words, Y/n. Famous last words.

You found Lewis near a bar, his presence commanding even in a room full of stars. He was dressed in a tailored suit that hugged his frame perfectly, his dark eyes scanning the room with an air of quiet confidence.

For a moment, you hesitated, your brain screaming at you to turn around and walk away. But then you remembered Charles’s dare, and the part of you that refused to back down took over.

“Hi” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “Are you Lewis Hamilton? Because you’ve been driving me crazy.”

Lewis turned to you, his eyebrows lifting in surprise before a slow, amused smile spread across his face. “That was actually a good one,” he said, his voice warm and rich like honey.

“Was it?” you replied, laughing despite yourself. You hadn’t expected him to actually be charmed by your cheesy pickup line, but here he was, looking at you like you were the most interesting person in the room to him.

“That, and you’re really hot” he added, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your stomach flip. His hand brushed against your waist, the touch light and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, dancing, and stolen glances. Lewis was everything you’d imagined and more—charming, witty, and disarmingly genuine.

But beneath the surface, you couldn’t ignore the voice in your head reminding you that this wasn’t real. Lewis Hamilton didn’t do real. He did fun, fleeting, and forgettable. And you? You were just another one.

And yet, when he leaned in before leaving to another party, his lips brushing against your cheek, as he whispered “Be ready by 14:00 tomorrow. Wear something light” you felt something shift. It was just a kiss, just a moment, but it was enough to make you wonder.

You moved to get your phone so he could put his number but he stopped dead “I don’t do phone number, love. I’ll be sure to pick you tomorrow, your hotel lobby.”

You hesitated for a moment, secrecy a huge red flag for you, but then again, it wasn’t anyone, it was Lewis and he had every reason under the sun to be like that.

When Lewis pulled up to your hotel, the sight of him behind the wheel of a sleek Mercedes, dressed in casual shorts and a t-shirt, was almost enough to make you laugh.

It was so… normal.

And yet, nothing about this situation was normal. You were about to spend the afternoon with him, a man who had been a fixture of your dreams—and your teenage bedroom wall.

The absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on you.

“Hey,” he greeted you with that easy, confident smile as you slid into the passenger seat. “Ready?”

“Still don’t know what ‘this’ is, but let’s do it” you replied, your tone light but your mind racing as you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when he flashed you that grin.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes glinting as he pulled away from the curb. “I do hope you’re just as courageous as you were last night” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Approaching me the way you did? Bold.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. “Please. You’ve probably heard that line a hundred times.”

“Maybe” he admitted, glancing at you with a smirk. “But it’s not the line that matters. It’s the person.”

You snorted.

Smooth, Lewis. Real smooth.

As Lewis maneuvered through the streets, he made small talk in an attempt to break the mounting tension. His easygoing demeanor and genuine interest in getting to know you better were both disarming and endearing.

"So, have you ever done anything like this before?" Lewis asked, casting a sideways glance at you.

"Getting into a date I know nothing about, with a dude that could be potently trying to kidnap me?! Nah, this will be my first time" you mused, seeing how his features lightened the more you opened up.

"I thought skydiving would be fun."

A thoughtful pause followed before Lewis blurted out casually, like he was suggesting a trip to the grocery store

Your stomach did a backflip. Skydiving. Of course.

Because why wouldn’t Lewis Hamilton take you skydiving on a date? It was the kind of over-the-top, adrenaline-fueled gesture that screamed “Lewis” and it also happened to be exactly the kind of thing you’d always wanted to try.

“No way” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief. “For real?”

Lewis’s grin widened, and you could see the relief in his eyes. “Glad you’re onboard”

The skydiving center was a hive of noise, the air buzzing with excitement and the occasional burst of nervous laughter.

Lewis led you to the instructor, who walked you through the safety protocols with the kind of ease that only comes from years of experience. As you suited up, your mind raced with a mix of excitement and fear, but when Lewis caught your eye and gave you a reassuring nod, you felt a strange sense of calm wash over you.

Just before the jump, Lewis pulled you aside, his expression serious for the first time since you’d met him. “Are you okay with this?” he asked, his voice firm. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. I can’t wait.”

As you reached the desired altitude the plane's door opened, revealing the vast expanse of the sky below. The rush of wind and the sheer height were both exhilarating and intimidating.

Locked in tandem with your instructor and Lewis paired with his, you prepared to take the leap.

And then the world around you turned into a blur of colors and sensations. The initial rush was overwhelming, but as you acclimated to the sensation of freefalling, a profound realization began to form in the back of your mind.

Upon landing safely back on solid ground, silence was all you could muster.

The gravity of the experience left you momentarily speechless, lost in thought. Noticing your quiet demeanor, Lewis approached you, his concern evident. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked softly.

"It was... intense. I'm still processing it." You hesitated, trying to find the right words. Lewis nodded, sensing there was more you weren't sharing. "Is everything okay? You seem a bit lost in thought."

At first, you brushed off his concern with a simple, "It's nothing." But Lewis gently pressed on as you got back to the car, his hands reaching for yours encouraging you to open up.

Taking a deep breath, you finally confessed, "The jump made me question how little humankind really was, how vast and boundless the world truly is."

A smile spread across Lewis's face, his features almost successfully hiding the happiness that you had gotten the point he tried to show everyone "It has a way of putting things into perspective, doesn't it?"

The drive back to your hotel was quiet, the tension palpable in the confined space of the car. The city lights began to paint fleeting shadows across Lewis's face as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow.

His tattooed hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his focus split between the road ahead and fleeting glances in your direction.

"Would you like to grab something to eat? I don't want to let you go just yet," Lewis ventured, his voice laced with a subtle reluctance, yet an underlying desire.

Your eyes met his, a playful glint shimmering in your gaze as you assessed the situation. His profile, illuminated by the soft dashboard light, was a stark reminder of his reputation and allure.

"Sure, where to, then?" you replied, your voice light and teasing, yet laced with a hint of challenge.

Lewis chuckled, his lips curling into a knowing smile, the glint in his eyes intensifying. "It’s gonna sound so pretentious, but my hotel has this amazing pasta."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you leaned back, the audacity of this man. Of course, that's where the evening was headed.

You were just another name on his list, a fleeting encounter in the grand tapestry of his life.

“Are we really going there, Lewis?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. Your mind racing with a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea.

His fingers reached out, brushing against yours that rested on the console between you, feeling the warmth and strength of his grip, a silent acknowledgment of the mutual attraction and intrigue that simmered beneath the surface.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips.

He was a force of nature, and you couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him. Even if you also knew better than to think this would end well.

“Okay” you said finally, your voice tinged with reluctant amusement. “But if this pasta isn’t the best thing I’ve ever tasted, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Lewis’s laugh was like music, and for a moment, you forgot why you were supposed to be keeping your distance.

As he parked the car and led you towards his suite, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. The soft lighting and luxurious rooms added to the intensity of the moment.

Lewis swiped the keycard, and the door clicked open with a soft beep. He stepped aside to let you in, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you crossed the threshold.

The gesture was casual, almost polite, but the heat of his touch burned through the fabric of your shirt.

The suite was exactly what you’d expect from someone like Lewis—luxurious, modern, and impeccably designed. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the Abu Dhabi skyline, the city lights twinkling like stars.

But what caught your attention were the little details that made it undeniably his. A pair of timberland boots tossed carelessly on the floor, a stack of notebooks filled with scribbled notes on the coffee table, a half-empty bottle of water on the counter.

It felt like stepping into his world, and for a moment, you felt like an intruder.

“Make yourself at home,” Lewis said, his voice low and warm as he moved past you to the kitchen. “I’ll order the pasta.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest. 

Great, Y/n. Just great. No big deal. Just the man you’ve had a crush on since you were, what, eighteen? Totally normal.

You wandered over to the couch, your fingers brushing against the notebooks. The leather soft from holding, and you couldn’t help but wonder how many races they’d seen. How many victories. How many moments that had defined his career.

“You’re not subtle, you know” Lewis called from the kitchen, his tone teasing. “I can see you snooping from here.”

You glanced up, your throat getting dry you caught him watching you with an amused smirk. “Not snooping” you protested, your voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. “I’m just… appreciating these”

Lewis laughed, the sound rich and warm, and you felt your stomach do a little flip. “Uh-huh. Sure, you are.”

He walked over to you, his movements like a predator stalking its prey. You forced yourself to stay still, to meet his gaze head-on, even as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

When he reached you, he plucked the notebook from your hands and tossed them aside, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re overthinking this” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Just relax, yeah?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips when he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your breath catch.

For a moment, you forgot how to think, how to breathe, how to do anything but stare at him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the playful, teasing kisses from earlier or the night before. This was something else entirely—slow, deliberate, and so damn intense it made your knees weak.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no. You could feel the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your mind a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions. 

Well, that just happened.

Lewis’s lips curved into a smirk, his eyes dark with amusement. “Told you to relax.”

You rolled your eyes, but the effect was ruined by the way your hands were still clutching the front of his shirt.

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, and this time, you didn’t hold back. Your hands slid up to reach for the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel—like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

The sound of the doorbell ringing pulled you apart, and you both froze, eyes still closed. For a moment, neither of you moved, and then Lewis groaned, resting his forehead against yours.

“The pasta” he muttered his voice thick with frustration. “Of course.”

You laughed, the sound shaky and breathless. “You ordered it. Should probably answer the door.”

Lewis sighed, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulled away. “Don’t go anywhere.”

As he went to answer the door, you took a moment to catch your breath, your mind racing.

Okay, Y/n. Deep breaths. You’ve got this. Just… don’t fall for him.

When Lewis returned, carrying a tray of food, you were sitting on the couch, trying to look calm and collected. He set the tray down on the coffee table and sat beside you, his thigh brushing against yours in a way that made it hard to focus.

“Hungry?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You nodded, but your eyes were on him, not the food. “Starving.”

Lewis chuckled, his gaze darkening as he reached for a fork. He twirled a bite of pasta onto it and held it out to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Open up.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone unapologetic.

You rolled your eyes, but you opened your mouth anyway, letting him feed you the bite of pasta. It was delicious, but you barely tasted it, too focused on the way Lewis was watching you—his gaze intense, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes and back again.

“Good?” he asked, his voice rough.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Amazing.”

Lewis’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile, and you felt your stomach do a little flip. Your heart racing and your mind spinning along with it.

And then Lewis set the fork down, his eyes dark with intent. “Want more?”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Of you. Yes.”

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, captivated by the sincerity and respect in his eyes. Despite the playful banter, daring adventure and certainty you held that you were a hook up, Lewis's concern for your well-being was there and it shocked you for a bit.

With a shy smile, you nodded. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your words also echoing the desire you felt. The tension was palpable as Lewis leaned in, closing the distance between you.

The world around faded as he led you to the bed, his lips meting yours every few seconds. His hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer so you could really feel him.

As you both pulled apart, catching your breath from the intensity of the moment, a playful smirk crossed your lips, a thought crossing your mind.

"Do you have a condom?" you asked, your voice filled with anticipation. Lewis's eyes widened slightly at your forwardness, a hint of surprise flashing across his face before a confident grin replaced it. Without a word, he reached for his pack on his suitcase, pulling out a condom and holding it up for you to see.

"Of course, you'd have packs with you," you mused, your voice dripping with playful mischief and a hint of mistrust.

The allure of the moment, the intensity of the connection, and the thrill of the unexpected encounter had led you both to this point, and you, for sure, wouldn’t turn back now.

His hands found their way to your waist, lifting you effortlessly on the bed. The soft fabric of the sheets beneath you, the warmth of Lewis's embrace, and the intimacy of the moment combined to create a sense desire that was intoxicating.

He was going to be yours, if only for one night. And in that moment, there was nothing more you could wish for.

As the first light of dawn hit the curtains, the sound of running water from the shower echoed in the room. The luxurious suite was bathed in a soft glow, the remnants of past night still lingering in the air.

You stirred from your sleep, the sheets tangled around you, Lewis's scent lingering on every fabric, surface and memory. The night before played in your mind, a mix of passion, connection, and lust that had led to a whirlwind of emotions.

With a sigh, you sat up, the reality of the situation settling in. You knew that this was a fling, a one-night stand. Despite the intensity and allure, you were aware of the nature of what had happened.

Gathering your belongings quietly, ensuring that nothing was left behind, the weight of the morning, filled with the silence and anticipation of how you were about to leave, added to the bittersweet nature of the encounter.

As you slipped out of the room, the sound of the shower continued, the steam and warmth of the bathroom contrasting with the cool, early morning air. The suite was filled with what if’s and wishes, mostly yours, mainly yours.

The thrown-out pieces of clothing a reminder of something you were meant to never see again.

You brushed those feelings aside though, telling yourself that this was for the best. You had to protect your heart, guard against any attachment.

After all, Lewis Hamilton was Lewis Hamilton, a superstar in the world of Formula 1. And you were just an engineer, living out your dream but still feeling out of your league.

Surely, it meant nothing for Lewis and you would probably never see him again.

Your future was at Ferrari, somewhere he would never step foot in.

Or would he?!

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TAGLIST

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[fandom-susceptible]

100% agree, but addition: it's not even just that he killed Ibis.

Terry knows exactly what sort of person Claudia is. He's totally fine with letting her kill all sorts of magical creatures for her spells. He even assists her with finding them and takes an interest in how they work. I truly think his reaction to killing Ibis was because he's never killed another elf before, not because he has a moral objection to killing things for power.

Plus, the thing is . . . it goes deeper than that. Claudia was shown being perfectly honest with him about everything from the beginning - to the point that it makes her uncomfortable in Season 7 when Aaravos begins to urge her to lie to him. She's had the plot of eliminating the elves and dragons ever since season 3; that didn't go away after Viren died. She explicitly was trying to get him back so they could then go take revenge on everyone. It's not even about some twisted "defending their kingdom" anymore, she's fully just planning on vengeful genocide.

And Terry's fine with that.

He only balks when it's Aaravos doing it. As long as Claudia was acting of her own volition, he was fine with the murder, with the genocide, with the bloody vengeance she wanted on the world. Not just fine with it, actively supportive of it!

His softer side that everyone focuses on highly distracts from how dark he really is as a person. Legitimately, right up until he finally left her, I was half-convinced he wasn't even real. One of my close friends (who isn't on tumblr) came up with the theory that he's a magical figment of Claudia's imagination given form. Even the "true of heart" plot didn't disprove it to me; he's what remains of her childhood innocence, then. That theory only sort of breaks apart after he leaves her - but then again, the Season 7 "loss of innocence" meta plot was heavy handed, and we've seen with things like Ava and the shadowhawk arrows that plenty of enchantments, once cast, are just cast. The mage doesn't need to actively maintain them.

So I'm still not fully convinced Terry is even a real elf.

If he is, we can't excuse how fucked up he is underneath the nice facade. I have the same problems with him as I had with Claudia in the early seasons; their cuteness and sweetheart surface is distracting people from how truly dark they are.

Claudia was always going to surpass Viren as the villain of this show. We saw early on that Viren is a coward. Viren hesitates. Claudia doesn't. The second Aaravos got access to her instead of Viren, the old man was getting tossed aside like a dirty rag, even before we knew about Leola.

I lowkey think that Terry is a similar character. He seems like a lighthearted character now, especially since that "Zuko here" scene and attempt at a redemption arc, but I think when it comes down to it, his priority is Claudia and making her happy. I don't think he gives a flying fuck what happens to the rest of the world. Why he's so dedicated to her and cares so little about everything else, I don't really know. It could be just pent up resentment for the world that rejected his identity as a man, but he doesn't come across as projecting that particular anger at the entire world, just at his home village somewhere in the Uncharted Forest. Or it could be he has his own ulterior motives and he, like early seasons Claudia, has convinced himself he's true and right and therefore he has no guilt on his conscience, leading to spells perceiving him as having a "true heart". Most adults have something in their past they regret, even if it's small. Maybe Terry just doesn't, until for some reason Aaravos changed the game for him.

I don't know. I don't think I'll ever trust Terrestrius, but it will be interesting to see how the show takes him if Netflix lets us have a third arc.

"Terry is pure of heart, it is what allows him to see the map"

Ibis from the afterlife. A.K.A the guy he murdered:

[airandyeah]

Gimme Gimme Gimme (God!Sukuna X Reader) Pt.4

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Makes me overjoyed that the taglist keeps growing, I love you all and appreciate the support! In the next chapter or maybe after the next, there will be some light smut, so you have been warned.

The sun had barely risen, casting a faint orange glow through the cracked, weathered walls of the minka. You had already been awake for hours, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall and the occasional creaks of the house echoing in the stillness. You had become accustomed to the silence, to the feeling of being alone, yet never truly alone. His presence lingered—always watching, always there, even when he wasn’t.

This morning, however, there was a noticeable shift in the air. The tension that had once been a tight, invisible cord between you and Sukuna had grown thicker, like the heavy stillness before a storm. You couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, but there was no denying it now.

It was almost as if you were waiting for something.

As if you knew something was going to happen.

And then, as you poured tea into a delicate porcelain cup, the voice that had plagued you for weeks echoed from behind you.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Sukuna said, his voice laced with mock curiosity. “Did I break you already, little one?”

Your fingers paused mid-motion, the weight of his words sinking into your skin like a slow burn. You turned just enough to see his figure standing in the doorway, draped in shadows as if the space itself bent around him. His posture was casual, but there was a predatory quality to his stillness. The smile tugging at the corner of his lips was as dangerous as it was enigmatic.

“No,” you replied, voice steady but your heart betraying you with its rapid pace. “Just tired of your games.”

A flash of amusement flickered in his eyes, but it didn’t reach the coldness of his smirk. Instead, he stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the room with a deliberate, almost imperceptible confidence.

“You’re learning to speak to me like that?” he mused. “How delightful.”

His proximity felt like the space was shrinking again, his presence amplifying every corner of the room until it became oppressive. But something inside you — something stubborn, something resilient — urged you to stand your ground. You were no longer the trembling, fearful person who had first encountered him. You had changed, adapted. But so had he.

“You’ve been watching me for a long time,” you said, voice thick with something you couldn’t quite define. “Do you ever get tired of it?”

Sukuna's gaze darkened for a brief moment, the playful edge in his eyes faltering. “Tired?” he echoed, as though the concept was foreign to him. “No. I find it... entertaining.” He stepped closer, his every movement deliberate, but his gaze lingered on you — calculating, piercing.

You didn’t move. You didn’t flinch. But your pulse quickened, and you felt the magnetic pull between you, the charged tension that seemed to electrify the very air.

“Entertaining?” You swallowed, your voice a little quieter than before. “You find my fear entertaining?”

The question hung in the air between you, a heavy, almost dangerous thing. But Sukuna didn’t seem fazed. Instead, his lips curved into a smile that was far more intimate than it should have been. There was something new there, something far less mocking.

“No,” he said, his tone low, almost too soft. “I find you entertaining. The way you think you can hide from me. The way you try to run...”

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand moved closer, just a fraction, until his fingers brushed the side of your face. His touch wasn’t tender, but it had the effect of making everything inside you tighten with an unfamiliar sensation — a mixture of desire, fear, and something darker that made your heart race.

“Stop doing that,” you whispered, though you didn’t know whether you were telling him to stop, or telling yourself.

But he didn’t stop. Instead, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, and whispered in a voice that made your skin prickle.

“You’ve become so... interesting, little one. I wonder what else I can make you feel.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a shockwave of both horror and something more dangerous. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to pull away or lean into it.

“You think you have control over me,” you forced yourself to say, despite the way your voice trembled. “But you don’t.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound dark and rich with amusement. “Control?” he repeated. “No. I never wanted control over you. I wanted you to understand... that you’re mine, whether you like it or not.”

His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke, and it felt as though the world had narrowed down to this single, fragile moment. There was no room for escape. There was no way to deny the intensity of what was growing between you.

“I’m not yours,” you breathed out, but your words felt weak, uncertain in the face of his overwhelming presence.

“No?” Sukuna’s voice was a purr, almost soothing in its calm, yet there was a danger beneath it. His face was dangerously close now, his eyes locking with yours, as if searching for something in the depths of your soul. “Then what is this, hmm? What do you call this pull, this... connection? The way your heart races when I’m near?”

You tried to breathe, tried to focus, but everything inside you felt too hot, too tangled. It was as though the very room was spinning, or maybe you were. You didn’t want this, not him, not the way he made you feel so small, so vulnerable. Yet, in the back of your mind, there was a quiet, unsettling whisper that said you didn’t mind being caught in this dangerous game.

For a long, tension-filled moment, you were both still, the silence wrapping around you like a thick fog.

And then, in a sudden movement, Sukuna stepped back, as if the moment had never existed at all. His smirk returned, more playful than before, but there was something heavier now — an unspoken challenge.

“You can’t escape me,” he said, turning away, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “Not anymore.”

You watched him walk away, his form blending into the shadows, leaving you in the silence once again. But this time, the silence felt different. It felt like something was hanging between you — something unspoken, something far more dangerous than before.

And you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were no longer just caught in his web. Somehow, you had become a part of it. ~~~

The days pass in a strange limbo, and the minka, which once seemed like a refuge, now feels like a cage that wraps itself tighter with every passing hour. You’ve learned to adjust, to breathe through the strange weight that Sukuna has brought into your life. It’s almost like he’s become a permanent fixture in your world now—his voice echoing through the halls, his presence haunting every room, every corner. But there’s more. Something darker. Something unspoken.

The cold of the mornings feels sharper now, and though you’ve learned to pretend that you don’t feel it, you’re always aware that he’s watching you. Watching you with that same unsettling intensity. That same quiet amusement that dances behind his eyes.

But it's not just the air around you that has shifted. It’s the way you feel when he speaks. The way your heart skips, when you hear that low voice, half-mocking, half-velvet. You’d like to say it’s just the power he holds over you that has you so rattled, but somewhere beneath the fear, there’s something else. Something that tugs at the edges of your thoughts.

You’re at the desk again, tracing the same pattern over and over. A pattern that’s become a quiet ritual, a way to keep your mind from wandering where it shouldn’t. But the longer you sit there, the more that itch begins to spread. The feeling that something is wrong, but not in the way it was before. Not in the way that you feared.

Footsteps sound in the hallway, slow and deliberate. You don’t look up at first, but you know exactly who it is.

His voice comes to you from the shadows, darker than usual, and yet still laced with that teasing edge. "Still pretending, little one? Or are you beginning to realize how utterly trapped you are?"

You don’t respond immediately. Part of you wants to tell him to go away. To stop, before he gets any closer. But the other part, the part that’s a little too intrigued, a little too… curious, stays silent. The silence between you stretches long enough that you feel the pull of his presence before he even steps into the room.

Then you hear him—his footsteps stop just behind you. You don’t need to look up to know that he’s standing too close. His energy wraps around you like a suffocating fog, drawing every last ounce of your attention. You feel the weight of him, the way his proximity distorts the air, and for a moment, all you can do is breathe.

“You’re still running,” his voice murmurs, a dark promise hanging in the air. “Or is it that you’ve grown comfortable, finally realizing there’s nowhere you can go?”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to move. Slowly, deliberately, you straighten up from the desk, your fingers lightly brushing against the paper. “Maybe I’ve learned to stop running,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, but there’s a shift in the way you say it. A tone that’s soft but filled with a strange kind of determination.

His gaze sharpens, the teasing glint in his eyes deepening. “Oh? And what does that mean, little one?” There’s no mocking now—just that quiet, consuming curiosity.

You turn slightly, just enough to look at him. Your eyes meet his, and the air feels charged with something thick, something dangerous. But you don’t look away. You won’t look away.

“It means,” you say slowly, your voice steadier than you feel, “that maybe I’m learning to accept the truth of things. That maybe I want to stand my ground now.”

He doesn’t move, but you feel his presence surge forward, as if his body is inches from yours. The pull is so strong that it’s almost physical. His eyes gleam, the gold of his pupils shifting with that unsettling hunger. There’s a dangerous curiosity in his gaze now, as though you’ve sparked something in him that he wasn’t prepared for.

His lips curl into a slow, predatory smile. "And what happens when you stand your ground, little one? Do you think it will make you strong enough to fight me?"

The tension between you grows. His power presses against you, but there’s something else now. It’s not just fear. It’s… something deeper. The temptation to give in. To surrender to whatever strange connection he’s pushing between you both.

"I’m not scared of you," you reply, your voice thick with uncertainty, but your words still ring with defiance.

His eyes darken, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Scared?” He laughs softly, almost to himself. “No. You’re not scared. Not of me. You’re scared of what happens if you let go. Of what happens if you let yourself believe that maybe you want this. That maybe I could make you feel something more than fear.”

His words are a heavy weight, pressing against your chest, and for a moment, it feels like your breath is stolen away. It’s as if he’s seen right through you, right into the deepest corners of your mind. The ones you’ve carefully hidden, buried deep where no one—not even you—could find them.

You take a step back, but it feels futile. He’s still too close. His energy pulls at you like a tether, and you can’t escape it. “I don’t need you to make me feel anything,” you snap, forcing the words out even though your heart races in a way you don’t fully understand.

“Is that so?” His voice drops low, the heat of it curling in the air like smoke. “Then why do I sense that you’re lying, little one? That you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be?”

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of your arm. It’s the lightest touch, but it sends a shock of warmth through your body, and the world tilts on its axis. You hold your breath, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into your skin, making you ache in ways you don’t understand.

"You think you're in control," Sukuna says softly, his gaze never leaving yours, “but you’re just as bound by this as I am. We’re both caught in the same web now.”

Your heart skips. You want to pull away. You want to push him away, to reclaim the control you once had. But there’s something in the way he looks at you—something in the pull between you—that makes you hesitate.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re mine now, little one. And there’s nothing you can do to escape.”

The words echo in your mind, and the pull of them is so strong, it almost feels like an invitation. Like a promise of something you shouldn’t want.

But somewhere, deep inside, that voice—so faint, so distant—whispers, Maybe it’s not escape you need… maybe it’s surrender.

The realization hits you like a freight train, and just for a moment, you wonder if you’ve already lost. If you’ve already surrendered, without even knowing it.

You try to steady your breath, to fight the unsettling flicker of something inside you, but Sukuna’s gaze never falters. And as he leans in closer, his lips brushing just barely against your ear, you know one thing for certain: The game has changed. And neither of you is ready to let go just yet. ~~~

A few days later, you realize that the weight of Sukuna’s presence is no longer just a matter of danger or tension—it has become an almost unbearable fixture of your life. You had prepared yourself for silence, for distance, for the dangerous quiet that followed every encounter. But Sukuna… Sukuna had other plans.

You’d thought you could settle into the rhythm of things, find some semblance of peace again. But now, it was as if his shadow loomed constantly. His laughter echoed through the halls like a mischievous storm, his voice grating and far too loud for comfort.

“You still here, little one?” Sukuna’s voice booms from the hall, and you roll your eyes even before he steps into view. Every single day…

You can already picture him—the brash, taunting grin stretched across his face, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. Sure enough, when he enters the room, the smile on his face looks too wide, too eager, like he’s about to cause chaos just for the sake of it.

You sigh and go back to whatever it was you were doing, pretending that his presence doesn’t gnaw at your patience. But Sukuna doesn’t make it easy. He leans against the doorframe, clearly loving the effect he’s having on you.

“What’s the matter, little one? Too quiet today? Don’t tell me I’ve finally broken you?” His voice mocks you in that exaggerated way, like he’s a spoiled child who’s been denied his favorite toy.

You keep your eyes focused on the task at hand, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of reacting. But his next words cut through your resolve.

“Bet you’re just sitting there thinking about me, huh?” He leans forward, arms crossed, his amusement practically radiating from him. “Bet you’re wondering what I’m going to do next. What I’ll say next. Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

A flicker of frustration courses through you, and for a moment, you almost want to retort, to put him back in his place. But you can already see the playful gleam in his eyes, the childish grin tugging at his lips like a spoiled brat waiting for a rise out of you.

“What’s it like to have me on your mind all the time, little one?” He steps closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Getting distracted by me when you’re supposed to be focused?”

You finally snap, your patience wearing thin. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, not bothering to hide the irritation in your voice. “You know that?”

He laughs, loud and unabashed. “Oh, I know.” His voice turns playful again, almost too enthusiastic. “I love being insufferable. It’s too fun.” The words hit the air between you, heavy with annoyance and an uncomfortable kind of familiarity. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you hold your ground, refusing to let him rattle you any further.

“You know, little one,” he drawls, his tone turning more deliberate, as if he’s savoring each syllable, “your sharp tongue is almost cute. Almost.”

You feel your lips press into a thin line, your teeth grinding as you fight the urge to snap back with something just as biting.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” He lets out a low chuckle. “Like a cat hissing at a lion. Cute, really. But ultimately…” He pauses, enjoying the slight tremor in your frustration, the way you’re trying so hard not to lash out. “Pointless.”

He steps forward then, closing the gap between you with the sort of leisurely confidence that only someone like him could have.

“You keep trying to put me in my place, but it’s like you’re testing the very air with your claws.” He reaches out, his hand hovering dangerously close to your face, yet just far enough to make you feel the intensity of his presence. “You think you’re the lion in this scenario? But it’s only the kitten pretending. I can feel the anger, the irritation boiling underneath your skin. But you're still just a little thing.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the comparison biting harder than any of his usual taunts. His words hang in the air like a taunting, mocking melody.

For a brief moment, you actually consider his words. His voice doesn’t help, dripping with that smug, impenetrable confidence that comes with knowing he’s seen all your weaknesses.

"You think you're so clever," you say, your voice trembling with the frustration you’re trying to bury. "But you’re wrong."

He leans in even closer, the grin never wavering. “And what exactly do you think you’ll do about it, little one? Whiskers twitching in defiance, but you’re still too small to do anything about it.”

Your hands ball into fists. It’s clear that Sukuna is enjoying every second of this—your attempt to control your frustration, the little sparks of your anger that he so effortlessly stokes. And yet, for all his words, there’s something almost calculating in the way he watches you, as though he’s testing you… seeing just how far your patience will stretch.

“Don’t mistake my silence for weakness,” you finally manage to growl, your voice low but steady.

He straightens up, raising an eyebrow, the gleam of mischief never leaving his eyes. “Oh, I’m not. But you’ll learn soon enough that a cat hissing at a lion will only ever be met with a smile, little one.” His tone shifts, turning even more playful, as though daring you to challenge him.

And there it is again—the familiar feeling of being trapped in his web of words and taunts. But this time, something inside you snaps, and you take a step forward, refusing to let him control the situation.

“Don’t underestimate me,” you say firmly, your voice steady despite the chaos inside you. “One of these days, you’re going to push me too far, and you won’t like what happens next.”

Sukuna lets out a low chuckle, clearly amused by your words, but you know—deep down—that you’ve crossed some kind of line. You’ve done it before, but this time, it feels different. This time, you're not just the cat. You're something else entirely.

Taglist: @rinkomei , @sleepycrybbylaiah , @queenmimis Taglist is always open for anyone! Love the comparison of a cat to a lion, Sukuna is becoming just a silly guy. Man child. hehehe.

[kuromipuzzles2000]

"so, in what universe are we, Trivia?"

"i-i...i don't know, for me even is new, it looks so normal. . ."

"just hope we're not on the canon universe. . ."

". . .if we keep investigating we'll not have time to meet the Mario of this universe and the rest of the cast. . ."

Strawberry sighs as he just looked at his best friend as gave a smug smile

"i know. . .Trivia, hey, what if you go for and meet Mario and I'll find the rest of the crew? it will make you happy?"

Trivia gasps as his eyes shine and smiled genuinely

"y-you're for real Strawberry?"

"yeah, after all, i know you root for know him and try to be a friend of any Mario, go now, we'll meet later, ok?"

"y-yes! see you later bro! thanks you so much again!"

"see ya, Trivia, be careful, ok?"

"i'll be!"

Trivia walked off to try find Mario, as Strawberry stayed on the place for a bit, he'll then start walking, he knows maybe he'll found the rest of the SMG4 Crew of that universe on the showgrounds, so he'll go there. . .as Strawberry approached the showgrounds, he could notice SMG4 standing by the door of his castle, immobile, maybe he was staring at some random stuff? who knows. . .the neko Mario recolor stepped in to try to talk to SMG4

"hello? SMG4? my name is Strawberry and-"

. . .

but no response. . .Strawberry would walk closer, to see better the SMG4 before his eyes, as he approached him, he could notice SMG4 with a tanuki tail and tanuki ears, and strange red rings over his wrists and ankles. . .too his clothes with more pale colors. . .instead of his bright blue and white colors

". . .S-SMG4? is. . .is that you? well now i am pretty sure you're not the canon one, but. . .but. . .you look. . .look pretty. . .i-i no want offense, but. . .look pretty. . .in bad state, i-i am a medic, i-i can help if you wa-"

"no thanks. . .i am perfectly fine~"

"G-Guh? S-SMG4!? y-you're far from. . .from be ok! i-i can help i-"

God Box SMG4 turned around fully and quickly approached Strawberry, grabbing him by the shoulders

"it was a long time since i saw a Mario Recolor. . .since our little incident with 0 on my channel's 10th anniversary. . .i thought they all died or. . .got reworked"

"i-i. . .ummm, i am from. . .from other universe, 4. . .w-we too lived the 0 incident, but i and my family got to survive and we was like the only Recolors who didn't got redesign on my Universe"

"interesting. . ."

SMG4 lifted Strawberry grabbing him by the throat, strangling him a bit, Strawberry gasps as he try to fight back for get free from SMG4's grasp, kicking his legs, hitting his arms. . .nothing worked, no success. . .

"i wonder how would it feel to be a Mario recolor again since. . .that fatidic day and my design was forcefully changed that day~"

"S-SMG4...P-P-Please. . .t-this. . .this not. . .not you gah! l-let. . .l-let me go!! let me goo!!"

No response, as soon as Strawberry knew, everything went dark around him. . .

. . .

and then a sudden pain, where he felt his body stretch a bit more, his bones cracking, and felt like if his cat ears and tail was ripped off and feel tanuki ears and tail on grow on it's place, blood came out of where his ears was and was replaced by the new tanuki ears, too from his tail, and felt how his leg and arm felt like burning

"i-i. . .i am sorry, Trivia, Noelle, Berdly, SMGS. . .i-i. . .i won't be there for you 4 anymore. . .more for you Trivia. . .i. . .i failed you. . .i am sorry"

was the last words he could say on his head, as he didn't even had control of himself. . .he isn't dead, but felt like on a deep sleep. . .a big heavy deep sleep. . .for eternity

"ahhh. . .it feels so good!~ i could get so used to this new body, i can use it for remember the old times when i feel nostalgic about my old body!"

SMG4 said with a mix of Strawberry's voice and his, SMG3 who arrived shortly stared at his partner as put his hands on his hips

"you lucky bastard, if i was here sooner. . .I WOULD had the chance of be the one reviving the nostalgia!"

"too slow, snail"

SMG4 stick his tongue at SMG3 which he grunts and crossed his arms. . .they suddenly heard someone come and calling by Strawberry

"Strawberry? you're here? we need. . .need to go!"

. . .SMG4 and SMG3 looked at the direction the voice came from, then looked at each other and smirked

"you thinking the same as me, 3?"

"yeah!"

"let's have fun with this poor soul's friend~"

they both whispered at each other and then SMG3 hided on the bushes, he's ready to see the fun that awaits ahead

"t-the Mario of this universe looks. . .looks kinda weird. . .i-i. . .i no want keep here if we entered an apparently creepypasta au or something. . .u-uhh?"

Trivia walked near as saw Strawberry from far and turned backwards just noticing his friend has a Tanuki tail

"S-Strawberry? w-why. . .why you. . .you turned a Tanuki now?"

"Strawberry" turned around as which Trivia could see "Strawberry" a bit

gasp

"S-STRAWBERRY!? S-STRAWBERRY WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?'

". . .don't worry, old friend. . .i am fine, i am a medic after all, no? i am ready to hang out now with you. . .let's start, shall we?"

I DONE instead of work by my own 200 special pics i am doing other's special lol

Long time since i discovered this AU existed and wanted do something for it! but couldn't find what to do since my ocs/aus are. . .well all Mr. Puzzles even my own sona lol and i had planned do it with my sona but she is total artificial

and i saw this and i said i wanted participate and i had Strawberry available so why not! (and be a follower since i followed the content without follow the artists cuz i am so shy-)

@grinnames congrats for the 200 followers i like your AU and whish if i didn't had artificial robots I would make a version of godbox of any of my aus or my sona but wouldn't so accept Strawberry as sacrifice for the collection 🙏🏻 hope SMG4 enjoys his new body that too bring nostalgia for be a Mario recolor

[quibbs126]

Maybe I’m just being lazy but screw it, I don’t have much else to add to this page, or that I will add, so page now

As stated prior, this AU now has the name of Transformers X, and this page is pretty much just me trying to make various designs for characters

I say try because while I got Jazz and a design for Bumblebee, I kind of gave up by the Starscream design, or I just didn’t know how to finish it

I guess let’s just go through what’s here

So first we have Bumblebee. I gave him a visor, but I don’t know if I want to keep it, because honestly I’m giving too many characters visors at this rate

I do like how round he is though, and I like his horns

I also decided I need to give characters other gem shapes, which I did here with Bee. I gave him the two on his chest to mimic headlights, and one on his head because why not

I have no clue what his role in the AU is. I know he’s an Autobot, and he probably has some connection with Optimus, but I don’t know what specifically he does? Originally I was planning on him being Optimus’ support bot, but I ended up finding Jazz a better pick, so I don’t know what to do with him now

Speaking of which, on to Jazz. I already explained stuff about him prior, how he’s semi based on his TFA design. The red circle gem is supposed to be where his Autobot symbol is, but honestly I might change the shape. I don’t know how much I like the circle on him. The circle shoulders can stay though

By Jazz I realized I should probably be more elaborate with the arms, but I still need more time to figure out how specifically to go about that

And as for his role, as stated he is Optimus and usually Megatron’s support bot. By which I mean, guy in the HQ that’s giving the bot out field and opponent data, as well as helping with strategies

I said he has a casual thing going with both Optimus and Megatron, but honestly, I might take it out. I thought it was funny, but I’m not sure how much I like it genuinely. Not that I don’t think the ship could work, it’s just that maybe I’ll shelve it here. I do kind of like it though still, at least on Optimus’ end. The polyamory’s so there’s no cheating, because I’ve decided megop is official here

And then we get to the unfinished designs

So with Starscream, I didn’t really know how to translate his helmet design into Mega Man-esque format. So I went looking for characters to maybe get some pointers on how to do so, and I ended up finding Gate, who basically became my main inspiration for this Starscream

I just thought the helm design really fit Starscream, and I mean I can use the flashback Gate for scientist Starscream too

But then during my sketching I was like “does that really look like Starscream?” Like he looks like a Mega Man character, but to me I’m not sure he’s recognizable as Starscream

I also didn’t know what to do for his body, since the gem was supposed to be in place of his cockpit, nor was I sure on his arms or how his wings work

So I decided he’s to be shelved for now, maybe I can make a better design later

Then I decided to do a small head design for Skyfire. As is he isn’t really going to be in the AU, since he’s currently in stasis, but might as well

He’s fine, I just have to figure out his body

Then we have a semi-sketch of Soundwave, who’s mainly based on Vile because I feel like the shapes work for him

I was trying to add something to his head to make him look more Soundwave, but they didn’t turn out right. Maybe my issue here is leaning too much into the Vile helm style

All I know is he is very square

And I think that’s mainly it on this round of AU stuff. It really isn’t that much, I’ll be honest, but this is from like, the past few days where I’ve been doing a lot of work, and I haven’t had much creative juice. Hopefully by Thursday or Friday I have more substance

Honestly I just want to keep drawing Megatron and Optimus, but I know I should expand the cast. But maybe I should just do what I want instead, since all of this is self indulgent anyways. I do need to modify Megs’ design now since I’ve decided he has circle shoulders now

[thechocolatepants]

The Locked Tomb prediction that’s been spinning in my head. This is almost certainly inspired by other peoples thoughts but not sure who exactly came up with the idea first.

Okay, so John is the emperor and he is the only thing that’s keeping the Sun running. Like literally Dominick’s will die out and all life in the solar system/ Nine houses will be lost. So presumably Dominicus is kept burning bc it consumes John and he can’t die so he just keeps coming back making a neat little cycle.

And as readers we can see that John has to go. There’s no version of this story that has John gets to keep on living and being emperor with the rest of the cast of characters. So if the characters need to destroy John, but destroying John will destroy the world what do they do? They’re stuck at an impasse until they can find a way to disentangle John from Dominicus while still finding a way to keep this dead star burning.

Enter the new immortal undying engine to keep that fuel going: Tower Prince Kiriona Gaia aka sweet and heartbroken Gideon Nav. There’s a bunch of times it’s mentioned in the text in a joking manner of Gideon being launched into the Sun (don’t have my book atm but there’s screenshots of those moments floating around) and I really do think that it’s the only way that the situation can break down into something of a “happy ending” for the rest of space given what we know now.

As for what happens to Harrow I think that’s a bit more nebulous. I don’t think she’s gonna become an emperor like figure after John is gone, but I don’t think she’s gonna die either. Harrow’s story is so tied to survival I don’t think it’ll in death.

My guess is that she’s gonna become an Anastasia like figure. As in what Alecto was to Anastasia in the tomb is what Harrow will be to Gideon in the Sun. Maybe that means priestess or just restructure of religion on the Ninth or maybe just living he life as someone who knew who Gideon was (maybe the only persona who knew who Gideon really was) and passing that story on after she’s gone.

Unfortunately for my shipper heart I don’t think that Gideon or Harrow get to end up together in the traditional sense. Their lives are too deeply intertwined in cosmic destiny nonsense and they lives have been so badly changed I don’t think normal is something they could achieve. Even if they got some good Nine Houses therapy sessions going I think it could only end up with them realizing that they’re healthier apart. But tlt series isn’t really about what it means to have a “healthy love”

Or maybe when Gideon gets launched into space and straight into the heart of the Sun, maybe Harrow will be right there with her, happy to burn up if it means one more minute together on the ride over.

[kitsuneisi]

All the characters that are going to appear on DDVAU!!

[lpsgirl109]

Im actually never forgiving Descendants: The Royal Wedding for being all silly goofy happy cartoon and then out of fucking NOWHERE just dropping "I really miss Carlos guys" HEY DISNEY WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM

[starrysharks]

i wonder if white people specifically white progressives realise that black people are only ever seen as their skin color first and foremost

[keeps-ache]

HEY

[sonknuxadow]

im generally not a fan of the idea of any of the early 2000s sonic games being remastered because i think those games not having the most updated looking graphics or the best voice acting ever is part of the charm i dont want them to be changed to look and sound exactly like every other sonic game thats come out in the past 14 years

[futurefreedomau]

Here are the designs for the main gang for my AU

(These are the absolute youngest age of these characters and can be in the Au be aware that they can be depicted as older)

Sonic: 25

Tails:18

Knuckles:26

Amy:23

Cream:16

Here's a poll too

[bmpmp3]

the really beautiful landscape/skyscape animation in makoto shinkai's works tends to be the big thing i see focused on and that is understandable and deserved like the weather and lighting effects are unREAL but i do think we should also appreciate how absolute insane the plotlines of his original movies get. at least two movies with in universe catastrophes with major ecological implications. the guns and explosions. theres that one movie i havent seen yet with the guy who turns into a chair (?)