#my brain fizzles halfway through every time

[the-silly-urge]

Thinking ab Karlach accidentally (?) calling Jaheira mom (does this actually happen or am i misremembering. i don't know)

I feel like she'd do the same to Siraye if she was in the place of Tav. Like Siraye would find her so endearing, and really empathize with her heart condition, one day Karlach slips up and calls her mom and she's just like. 🥹

Anyways bc I thought of both of these things at the same time it made me think of Jaheira and Siraye getting together. It could be so mystical

[waratah-moon]

I Think We're Alone Now

Mom and Dad finally get some alone time. Smutty addition to Gremlin - takes place during moment 3. Thank you to @lfaewrites for beta reading!

Gremlin / read on ao3 / masterlist

Pairing: Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: SMUT (oral f receiving, unprotected p in v - let's imagine everyone's been tested and reader is on the pill), established relationship, insecure reader, teen pregnancy (not elaborated on), boyfriend shaped Eddie fluff Steal my work and I will hex you

As soon as you'd gotten to the Mayfield's trailer, Indie had bounded inside straight to the dollhouse Max had set up especially for her in the corner.

You handed Max your daughter's backpack, telling her you had packed her lunchbox and tucked a Care Bears VHS inside the front pocket. “She’s had a bit of a runny nose this morning and she refused to eat breakfast so-“

“Seriously, we’ll be fine." Max knew your deal, you had gone through the same spiel every time you dropped Indie off for the past year. She responded with her regular answer, "you’re like 100 feet away.”

“Don’t hesitate to drop her back, okay?”

“Actually please do hesitate," Eddie was leaning against the doorframe, bouncing his leg. "It’s been ages.”

Of course that's what he was most concerned about. You raised your eyebrows in warning. “Eddie.”

He copied you. “Babe.”

Max grinned. “Don’t worry about it. Pick her up whenever. You two have fun," she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and shut the fly screen.

"Will do, see you later. Bye Gremlin, love you," Eddie called out, dragging you back to your own trailer across the way.

-

It always took a while for the worry to ebb away whenever you left your daughter with someone who wasn’t Eddie. Even though Max had been regularly looking after her for the better part of a year and you trusted her completely, part of you was still worried something would happen.

Eddie was the complete opposite, allowing common sense to reign. He knew that Mayfield and your daughter were only in the trailer opposite, literally 100 feet away. And he trusted that Mayfield would bring her straight back if something happened that she couldn’t handle. But he also knew that Mayfield could handle a lot.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Baby they’ll be fine, they always are. How about I make popcorn and we can watch that dumb mermaid movie you love."

"You said you liked Splash ," you mumbled against his chest. You could hear the steady lub-dub of his heart and you were enjoying the way he was stroking your hair.

"I like Daryl Hannah's ass." He quickly added, "not as much as I like yours, though. You know I love your ass. Hey, maybe we could get you a mermaid tail.”

You rolled your eyes, but managed a smile.

-

Eddie made it halfway through the movie before he put the moves on you. It started with the classic yawn and arm around the shoulder, which quickly turned into groping your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt; his breath hitching when he felt that you weren’t wearing a bra.

"Seriously?"

"I almost made it a whole hour, are you proud of me?"

"Very."

"Great, can we have sex now please?"

He phrased it so stupidly, like a horny teenager begging to get laid, but it still managed to give you butterflies. 

You'd been with Eddie for three years, and the insecure girl part of your brain was worried that at any moment the romance would fizzle and die out. It shocked you that even though he'd seen you at your most vulnerable: sick, depressed, pregnant, deep in the throes of childbirth, he still tried to jump your bones every chance he got. You weren't sure how many times he'd have to tell you that all those little moments combined made him love you even more than was humanly possible for you to believe it. 

But horny Eddie made it a little easier to believe. Horny Eddie made you feel wanted and desired, which satiated the insecure girl part of your brain for an hour, or two, or a whole night. It depended on the babysitting situation.

It didn’t take more than you climbing onto his lap for him to attach his mouth to yours, groaning deeply when you parted your lips. 

Proper kisses between you two, the kind that weren’t just a peck on the lips or cheek, had become rare since you’d had Indie. Usually they were stolen in the kitchen; you pressed up against the counter while Eddie distracted you from dinner, lasting the amount of time your daughter was preoccupied with the TV. Or they were lazy morning kisses where you kept missing each other's lips because your eyes were full of sleep; the ones that usually ended in muffled giggles as you tried not to wake Indie as she slept in the cot at the end of your bed. But kisses that turned into making out were especially rare and took extra planning. The kisses that had you moaning as you reminded yourselves of the architecture of the other's mouth. The kisses that moved from your lips to your jaw to your neck, inevitably finding their way between your legs.

“Babe, bedroom,” you were already panting, breathless as he trailed his tongue along your jaw. He hummed against your skin, the vibration buzzing deep in your bones, making your toes curl. 

He didn’t need to be told twice, taking your hand and leading you the short distance to the bedroom before he pushed you unceremoniously onto the bed. He pulled off his shirt, and you did the same, also shedding your jeans, as he slotted himself between your legs.

“Pants off,” your fingers deftly unbuckled his belt, tugging the denim down his legs. Normally he’d make a remark about how eager you were, but the truth was he didn’t have it in him; it had been awhile since the two of you had been alone together. His head was clouded with dirty thoughts of you; you naked, you moaning, you screaming his name, you swallowing him whole.

His fingers trailed down your body, stopping to circle your pebbled nipples, fluttering over the expanse of your stomach before they found their way between your legs; tracing your cotton covered slit.

“Eddie,” you breathed, pushing your hips up, his touch far too delicate for your liking.

He pushed the material aside, dipping two fingers between your folds and smirked when he found you wet. “What do you want, sweetheart?” You knew exactly what he meant; fingers or mouth.

“Your mouth. Please,” you couldn’t help whining as he dragged your panties down your thighs, exposing your soaking cunt to the cool air.

He dove between your legs like a man starved. It had been much too long, in Eddie’s humble opinion, since he’d gotten to taste you. Far too long since he’d gotten to hear the little whimpers of pleasure and feel your hips buck as he nibbled, sucked, and licked you to your peak.

Just as the familiar pressure started building in the pit of your stomach, a loud series of knocks came from the front door.

"No," Eddie groaned, the vibrations sent a delicious prickle through your body. "Can we just ignore it and wait for them to go away?"

It was really hard to concentrate when his nose was purposely rubbing against your clit. You exhaled, trying to distract yourself from the subtle heat in your belly. "It might be Max."

"It might not be," he'd moved to kissing the crease in your thigh, his teeth and lips gently nipping the skin.

"You know Indie had a runny nose this morning."

"Pretty sure that's normal. They don't call them snot-nosed kids for no reason."

"Eddie,” you pushed his shoulder with your foot.

He huffed, reluctantly removing his head from between your thighs. "Fine. But someone better be dying."

"EDDIE!"

"You know what I mean," he pulled on a pair of sweat pants and grabbed his tee-shirt before heading to the front door.

-

You flopped your head back on the pillow, and counted the green glow in the dark stars Eddie had stuck on the ceiling in the shape of Andromeda. 5 big stars, 11 little ones. Eddie had chosen that constellation, saying he’d found it in a book on astronomy in the library one day and decided the stars needed a shape. He said that Andromeda was the most beautiful woman in all of ancient Greece and the constellation was fitting as you were even more beautiful than her; a fact which Eddie was very obviously unbiased about. 

You heard the front door open and Eddie’s pissed voice. Okay, so it wasn’t Max at the door. You couldn’t hear any words, your ears only picking up on muffled voices. From his tone you guessed Eddie was attempting to end the conversation, when you suddenly hear a name you hated in high school: Shelley Keibler. That bitch that ruined your chance of becoming Homecoming Queen in senior year when she rigged the vote in her favour. Your mood suddenly soured.

The door slammed shut and footsteps made their way towards the bedroom. You sat up as Eddie walked in, pulling off his tee-shirt as he made his way over to the bed. “Who was at the door?”

“Dustin,” he collapsed against you, his hands finding purchase on your hips.

“The freshman who joined Hellfire? Why was he talking about Shelley Keibler?” 

He groaned, his cheek flat against your bare stomach. There were other things he wanted to be doing that did not involve discussing a girl he knew you hated from high school. “He said she was flirting with me last week.”

You raised your eyebrow, “was she?”

“Yep,” he kissed the skin next to your navel, his fingers edging between your thighs. You clamped your legs shut and he frowned. “What?”

“Why was Shelley Keibler flirting with you?”

Eddie looked up at you through dark lashes, grinning knowingly. “Are you jealous?”

You scoffed, “of that bitch? ‘Course not.” He could always tell when you were lying, not that you were doing a good job of hiding it.

“Aw, baby,” he pouted, moving his way up your body. “She thought $20 for half an ounce was too steep. Tried to flatter her way into a discount.”

“Did she get one?”

“No. I made an extra $10 and bought you flowers,” he reached your face, planting a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Oh,” you looked over at your dresser where a vase of gerberas sat. They were beginning to wilt, but you couldn’t bring yourself to throw them away. He’d come home one day last week with them hidden behind his back, presenting the bunch to you for no reason whatsoever. He’d said he’d gotten them “because you deserve something almost as pretty as you."

He cupped your cheek, turning your face so you were looking in his eyes. “You know I love you, right? More than anything,” he tugged on your bottom lip with his thumb to stop you from biting it. “I love our life together. I love our little family. You’re it for me, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Eds,” you started, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. As you moved to place a kiss on the closest part of his skin you could reach, his wrist, his hands moved to grip your thighs.

“Now can we please fuck? I’ve been thinking about railing you all week.”

You shut your eyes, the tears instantly drying. “Really? You were being so sweet and then you had to go and ruin it.”

“I’ll ruin you,” he countered, a toothy grin contradicting the dirty undertones of his words. 

“I’d like to see you try.” You knew he could do it easily. He’d done it so many times before; left you a blathering cock drunk mess as he coaxed yet another orgasm from your shaking body. But Eddie loved a challenge and you knew how to tease him to get what you wanted.

“Are you doubting my abilities?” His palms splayed against your thighs, spreading them open so he could admire your glistening cunt. “Still wet?”

He used two fingers to part your folds, watching as a mixture of your arousal and his saliva dripped onto the sheets below. “I really didn’t mean to edge you before. Fucking Henderson ruins everything.” He pursed his lips as he decided his next move, his thumb putting the slightest amount of pressure on your clit. “I reckon you’ve earned an orgasm, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” you moved your hips, hoping to create some friction against his hand. 

He obliged, sinking two fingers deep inside. You gasped when he curled them upwards, hitting just the right spot that ignited a fire in your belly. 

Eddie knew exactly how your body worked, he’d tested every set of moves on you over the years and gotten the right combination that had you twisting and squirming beneath his hands. He attached his lips to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue, causing delicious white hot pain to sear down your legs, leaving pins and needles in your feet. 

Your eyes were screwed shut, your chest heaving as you tried to hold off the mounting pressure, you knew the longer you held out, the more intense the pleasure would be. You gripped his hair, needing something to ground you to this moment as your back arched off the bed. You couldn’t take much more, his constant assault leaving your brain foggy and empty, the urge to let go too desperate.

“Fuck, Eddie, yes,” you cried out through shuddering gasps.

The release hit you with an intensity you hadn’t felt in a while, your mind instantly blanking to a white slate as Eddie helped you ride out your high.

“Baby?” His voice sounded muffled, like he was standing at the end of a long, echoing tunnel. “Sweetheart?”

You opened your eyes, the room blurry like you were looking down the lens of an unfocused camera. You rubbed your eyes, feeling tears lining your lashes.

“There she is,” he pushed back your hair, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. Your vision came back to focus and you saw Eddie looking at you in adoration.

“That was intense,” your voice was croaky. It had been a while since you’d had an orgasm that was drawn out and powerful. Usually they were rushed and you never got to fully experience them.

“Are you okay? Do you want some water?”

“I’m good,” you took a second to breath before you reached out to grab his hips. “Very good.” Your hand reached inside his boxers to find he was rock hard. “Did I turn you on?”

“You were doing that sexy gasp you do and moaning my name. Of course that’s going to turn me on.” You allowed your fingertips to trace the prominent vein along the underside of his cock.

“And let me guess, now you want to rail me.”

“Please,” he dragged the word out, peppering your neck with kisses. “Been thinking about it for so long.”

You let out a breathy laugh, pulling his boxers down his thighs. When they slid to his ankles, he kicked them off. “Do you want me to ride you?”

“I’ll cum in a second if you’re on top and that would be tragic for my ego.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he dragged the tip of his cock between your folds, groaning at the sweet schlicking sound made by your wetness. Your breath hitched as the head brushed over your sensitive clit, the gasp turning into a moan as he pushed slowly into your cunt.

“Jesus, baby,” he pushed in further and you tried to relax your muscles, feeling your walls fluttering around him. When he finally entered fully in, he stopped for a moment, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. “God, we’re made for each other.”

It felt heavenly to be so full and stretched out around his cock, and his words were so sweet, eyes hazy with love and admiration for you. But right now you need him to fulfil his promise and fuck you. “Fucking hell, move!”

“Right, sorry sweetheart, you’re just so beautiful and I love seeing you under me-”

You arched your back, grinding your hips against him, “I swear to God.”

He rocked his hips back before slamming forward, your skin slapping together where your bodies met. You gripped onto his back, his skin blanching as your fingertips dug into the corded muscles. 

The pace he’d chosen to set, quick and bruising, would wear anyone out, but he managed to maintain it for a good few minutes before he began panting in your ear. 

“Baby I don’t think I’m going to last much longer with you squeezing around me.”

“I can’t help it, you feel so good,” he was hitting just the right spot deep within you. Your hand moved to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle as you felt the tingling pressure building. 

Eddie buried his face in the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin to stop his shuddering breaths. You could feel his thighs begin to tremble, the telltale sign he was close.

Your fingers quickened around your clit, your other hand moving to squeeze his balls as his thrusts moved out of rhythm.

“Oh fuck, babe, shit, yes,” he jerked inside you and you could tell he wouldn’t last much longer. With the way he was gasping in your ear, you wouldn’t either.

“Eddie, baby, just a little longer, I’m almost there,” you breathed, the pressure in your stomach reaching a fever pitch. 

It was his moan, you think, that sent you over the edge. The throaty sob that racked through his entire body. The way his hair was stuck to his forehead, the veins in his neck prominent when he threw his head back as he came. It was angelic in the dirtiest way possible.

He collapsed against you and you rubbed his back as he came down from his high. His skin was hot and clammy, your fingertips drawing abstract shapes along his spine. 

After a few minutes, Eddie grabbed his tee-shirt from the end of the bed, placing it underneath you before he pulled out.

“Ugh, that’s gross,” you groaned, watching as his cum dripped out of you, pooling on the ratty tee-shirt.

“What, it’s going in the wash anyway,” he stood up and stretched, pulling the tee-shirt out and folding it over itself, using the sleeve to wipe himself. He disappeared from the bedroom and you heard the washing machine lid open. 

He did it every time. Even though you’d put a hand towel on the dresser specifically for that purpose, he always went for whatever band tee-shirt he was wearing prior to stripping off. He came back with a damp washcloth and a glass of water, which he placed on your nightstand. You mumbled a “ thanks,” and took a sip, the cold water instantly revitalising you from your post-sex sleepy haze.

“Push up,” he instructed as he wiped the washcloth between your legs and the inside of your thighs. He was gentle, careful not to put too much pressure on the sensitive area as he cleaned. “There. Perfect as always,” he placed a kiss above your pubic bone.

-

The two of you stripped the bed and changed the sheets, loading up the washing machine to full capacity. Then you took a shower together, washing each other as you alternated who stood under the water stream of the shower/tub combo. Eddie bent down, letting you wash his hair with your expensive vanilla coconut shampoo, the scent of which he loved. You then picked out the comfiest clothes in your wardrobe and hoped back in bed.

It was moments like this that you cherished. When the two of you were quiet, both basking in the comfortable afterglow, and enjoying each other’s company. Alone together. Eddie was sitting between your legs as you leant against the headboard, his hands running over the clean floral sheets. He was resting against you, his shoulder blades flush against your chest, his eyes shut as you played with his hair.

You hadn’t even realised your fingers were absentmindedly passing damp strands over one another until he asked, “are you braiding my hair?”

You looked down, a french braid beginning to form on his head. “Huh, apparently I am.”

The first time you had braided his hair was soon after you’d started dating. He’d gotten too drunk after a gig and you hadn’t wanted to spend your night holding his hair back over the toilet, so you’d braided it to keep it out of his face. When he woke up the next morning he told you he loved it and spent the whole morning running his fingers over the bumps. Braids quickly became one of Eddie’s love languages; whenever he got a little too tipsy, sleepy, sick, or he’d had a bad day, he’d beg you to braid his hair. Since Indie had come into your lives, you hadn’t had much time for soft moments between you two, but Eddie still sat in the bathroom and watched you braid your daughter’s hair every morning before you dropped her off at daycare. “Is it pretty?”

“You’re always pretty, Eds,” you knew he liked that answer by the faint hum of approval he made. Not that you were lying, Eddie was beautiful. You reached for a hair tie off the nightstand, securing the braid in his hair. “There you go, baby boy.” You gave the braid a tug, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Wait,” he tilted his head, catching your lips with his, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. You let out a content sigh, your arms draping over his shoulders as you relaxed into the kiss.

“I can’t wait until we have our own room again.”

“I know, it’s been way too long since you’ve woken me up with a BJ.”

“Oh, so that’s what you’re expecting when we move into the new house, huh? Morning head?” 

The pair of you had finally saved up enough money to rent a small two bedroom house, which you were planning on moving into next week. Your current living situation, which involved Indie sleeping in a crib at the end of your bed, was far from ideal. The new house offered you each your own room, something you and Eddie were incredibly excited about. Partly because your daughter talked in her sleep (which you both agreed was adorable, if not somewhat annoying), but mostly because it afforded you the opportunity to have sex whenever you want.

“What can I say, I’m easy to please.”

@geekyfifi @livsters @spacedoutdaydreamer @bailey1212

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[lilypadlys]

Domestic December Day 29 - Power Outage

I started this one thinking, aww it's gonna be so cute. Ghoul cuddles as they keep each other warm. And then my brain was like, but what if we give Rain frostbite. Wouldn't that be fun? I’m sorry Rainy. (Don't worry he ends up being fine!)

Notes: Prompt list by comp-lady. See prompt list here

Ghoul popsicles below the cut or on AO3

Pop. There’s an audible fizzle as the power goes out. Dew stops mid guitar solo and glares at the overhead light of his room as if that would make it spring back to life. When to no avail it stays stubbornly dim, he sighs and puts his guitar away. No sense in practicing if he can’t see, much less the amp not working.

This was just perfect timing. A snowstorm was on the way and the power was out. The abbey doesn’t have the greatest insulation or central heating at the best of times. Dew can already feel the cold air seeping through gaps in stone to rob what little heat had been maintained.

Luckily, nearly every room meant for residence possesses a fireplace. Dew heads out into the hall knowing that soon he and the other fire ghouls will be tapped to set fires and make sure the abbey’s inhabitants don't freeze to death. He meets Aether in the hallway.

“Hey Dew. The power’s out and the fire places need-”

“Yeah, I’m on it.” Dew interrupts, not unkindly and more to speed things along. “Go find Alpha, Ifrit and Sunny and get them to help too.”

“Thanks Firefly.”

They part, the quintessence ghoul in search of the other fire ghouls as Dew makes his rounds to his packmate’s rooms to get their fireplaces running. Sunny has already gotten a magical fire set in Cumulus’ room and all the girls are curled up there. Dew gets fires going in his own room as well as Aether and Mountain’s. Along the way he finds Swiss in Aether’s room and Phantom and Mountain in the earth ghoul’s nest. He pokes his head in Rain’s room to drag the no doubt freezing water ghoul to his own bed but there’s no sign of him.

He doubles back to Mountain’s room.

“Have you guys seen Rain?”

Phantom shakes his head but Mountain’s eyes get huge.

“Shit.” He’s already leaping out of bed.

“Wha-no. He didn’t…” Dew doesn’t wait for an answer, already heading to the door. He mutters a trail of curses under his breath.

“What’s going on?” Phantom asks, still ensconced in blankets.

“That idiot decided to go swimming in the middle of a snowstorm and now the power is out.” Dew grumbles, tapping his foot impatiently as Mountain scrambles to put his jacket on and grab a warm blanket.

“Stay here.” Mountain points at Phantom. “We’ll be right back.”

Dew forgoes his jacket, just amplifying his body temperature instead, as he and the earth ghoul race outside and to the lake. The snow is already beginning to fall, collecting in rapidly growing drifts. Dew curses again and picks up the pace. About halfway to the dock they see a blurry figure, obscured by the whirling snow. When they get closer they both breath a sigh of relief when they recognize Rain’s twisted seaglass horns.

Rain stumbles forward hazily, hunched over as he walks into the wind. His arms wrapped tightly around himself as if to block out the cold. He’s shivering like a leaf and soaked to the bone, only clad in his sopping tee and swim shorts. His trail of footprints leading towards the lake are already being filled with snow. He makes no indication that he sees his rescuers.

Dew runs to him immediately, shouting. “You fucking idiot! What the Hell do you think you’re doing going for a swim in this weather?!” He yells, already wrapping the water ghoul in a warm embrace.

Rain looks up wearily, eyes having trouble focusing. “I-I’m s-sorry.” He manages despite his chattering teeth. He looks about ready to cry.

“We need to get him dried off so he doesn’t get frostbite.” Mountain says, already tugging down Rain’s shorts. When Rain weakly protests Mountain adds apologetically. “I’m sorry but these are soaked. They’re just going to make you feel colder.” Rain nods, letting Mountain pull them the rest of the way off, too weak to help much. Mountain helps him ditch his shirt as well.

Now freed of his wet clothing, Dew can see just how bad off Rain is. His face, hands, and feet are an angry red, bitten by the fierce cold and his shoulders shake with every shiver. His eyelids droop in a cold induced fatigue and he sways on his feet.

“Inside. Now!” Dew commands.

Mountain wraps the thick blanket around Rain to block some of the wind. Then he scoops up the trembling water ghoul and trudges his way back up the path. Dew brings up the rear, stepping in Mountain’s tracks rather than fighting to forge his own way through the quickly accumulating snow. The return trip to the abbey takes twice as long, now fighting the wind rather than moving with it.

Dew fights not to spew curses the whole way back. He wants to rage at the weather. Rain’s poor decision making skills. Himself. What if he hadn't noticed Rain was missing? What if Mountain hadn’t known where to look? What if…?

They finally make it back though. Dew runs ahead the last few yards to haul the door open and usher Mountain inside. Both ghouls sprint back to the pack’s den where Aether, with Phantom and Sunny in tow, is ready waiting with a lukewarm bath prepared in his tub. Mountain eases Rain into the tub murmuring apologies as the water hits Rain’s cold numb skin; the temperature difference jarring. Both Mountain and Aether begin to massage Rain’s hands and feet to help warm them and increase blood flow.

“What the fuck were you thinking?! You stupid fucking idiot! You could have gotten hurt. You could’ve d-” Dew chokes unable to vocalize the thought. He looks away.

Dew and Sunny gradually warm the water temperature. Slowly but surely the angry red becomes a soft pink as Rain warms up. He’s thankfully stopped shivering, no longer in danger of frostbite. Aether, Phantom, and Sunny retreat while Rain soaks, letting the other’s know he’s okay. Mountain excuses himself too to go make tea for Rain.

Now alone with the water ghoul, Dew breaks down.

“I’m so sorry Dew.” Rain looks down, eyes damp. “I didn’t realize it was going to snow and…Dew?”

Tracks of water leak down the fire ghoul’s face that can’t be attributed to the snow melting in his hair. Dew swallows a sniffle, face still downturned. “Don’t scare me like that.” He says much quieter. He can’t hide the way his voice wavers.

“I’m sorry.” Rain reaches for Dew’s hand and squeezes it. Dew squeezes back and doesn’t let go.

“You’re feeling better right?” Dew looks back, his grumpy facade slipping back into place.

“Uh huh, I'm fine now.” Rain assures.

“Never do that again.” Dew says it like a threat.

“I promise.” Rain squeaks. Rain leans over to nuzzle and plant a kiss to Dew’s forehead. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Dew ruffles Rain’s hair with his free hand.

After a little while, Mountain returns. After making sure Rain has warmed up enough, Mountain scoops him up again and bundles him in a towel before bringing him to the common room, setting him directly in front of the fireplace.

Dew stokes the fire to life before curling up next to Rain, pulling him into his arms. He reaches for Rain’s hand again and they interlace their fingers. It’s Dew that squeezes first, three times in rapid succession. Rain returns the gesture. A silent, I love you.

Mountain gives Rain a mug of tea before retrieving the others. They all curl around Dew and Rain, doting over both of them. Mountain rubs Rain’s head and Aether presses himself to Dew’s back. Phantom, Swiss, and the ghoulettes wrap themselves around them, cocooning them in warmth. They all just lay in front of the fire for a while, enjoying each other’s soothing presence. They’re all thankful that their packmate is safe and sound and right where he belongs; in their arms.

[claire8216]

Fic Tag Game

Thanks @fandomscraziness22 for the tag!! 🩵

How many works do you have on AO3? 10! My page says 7 but I have some I've published anonymously.

What's your AO3 word count? 122,718

What fandoms do you write for? It's been a while since I've posted anything but when I do find the motivation to write it's usually Julie and the Phantoms, Outer Banks, or The Summer I Turned Pretty! I've written some for other fandoms too but that was a looong time ago haha.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (Not including the ones I'd like to remain anonymous 😉) - Fire Red and Ocean Blue (TSITP) - I Hate the Way I Don't Hate You (JatP) - Been Counting My Blessings Thinking This Through (OBX) - Something Like That (JatP) - I'm Standing in Your Line (I Do Hope You Have the Time) (JatP)

Do you respond to comments? I really try to respond to every comment, even if it takes me a while to respond! I genuinely appreciate people who take the time to not only read my writing but also share with me their thoughts, so the least I can do is respond back 😊

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oof in general I usually stick to happy endings so there hasn't been a ton of angsty endings! But I once wrote a fic exploring a character navigating the aftermath of the sudden death of his wife. It ends with him bonding with a woman in a bar who had also lost her husband, and they dance together and while it's nice to have some sort of companionship again, there's an unspoken agreement that nothing and no one would ever compare to their late spouses. (Based off the song Ghost of You by 5SOS, specifically the last line!) I don't usually write major character deaths, and I actually ended up taking that one down because it was too sad for me haha.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The rest of my fics pretty much all have HEAs because at my core that's what I enjoy most haha. But my favorite and probably fluffiest ending is Fire Red and Ocean Blue.

Do you get hate on fics? I don't remember ever getting any hate! *knock on wood*

Do you write smut? What kind? I do not, but I always enjoy reading a good smut fic!

Do you write crossovers? No, but I love AUs or fics based off of other books/shows/movies!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Also no haha.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? I've attempted to, a loooong time ago when I was first getting into fanfic. Nothing ever came of it though, we were both, like, 12 so it fizzled haha. I have no idea where that person is today but I hope they're doing well!!

What WIP would you like to finish, but doubt you ever will? Back when s1 of Outer Banks came out I started working on a Jiara one night stand fic and got about halfway done. I still think about it often, but too much has happened in s2 and 3 it just wouldn't make sense anymore and I'd basically have to start from scratch.

What's your all-time favorite ship? This is a tough one! My oldest and most beloved ships will always be Romione and Percabeth. But no ship has ever, and may never again, have me in a chokehold quite like Juke did during the height of my JatP hyperfixation. So one of those three! 😂

What are your writing strengths? Ooo I love a good theme or motif or analogy and bringing everything back around full circle. It makes my little perfectionist virgo brain very happy haha.

What are your writing weaknesses? Sometimes I'll rush through the little details just to get to the main plot points. I constantly have to remind myself to slow down, a sort of "stop and smell the roses" if you will, and set the scene or create unique little character details to make my fics more descriptive.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in a another language for a fic? If it's needed it's needed! I usually will copy/paste and look up the translation if I need to.

First fandom you wrote for? Glee haha. I used to be OBSESSED.

Favorite fic you've ever written? I feel like this answer changes depending on my mood haha. Right now I think it'd have to be Been Counting My Blessings Thinking This Through, but that could totally be recency bias haha. I am very proud of it though!

What fic would you want to rewrite someday? I wrote this PJO (Tratie) fic called Rivers about 10 years ago and to this day the idea behind it is probably one of my favorite ideas I've ever had for a fic. When I reread it now, I can't help but see the writing of a 15 year old girl who had no idea what she was talking about and was unable to execute it in the way I wanted to in my mind haha. I always tell myself I'm going to rewrite it, and maybe with the show coming out soon, it'll inspire me to!

This was so fun!! Tagging @story-courty @bex2313 and @writerownstory and anyone else who wants to participate!

[iris-nonsense]

Okay i finished All for the game and i have many many thoughts since these books have taken over my brain unfortunately.

I want to preface everything by saying that the series is bad BUT i don't think that it's that relevant. Like from what i know these were self-published on a blog and i doubt that they ever saw a professional editor, no publishing house ever touched them, so judging them as one would judge a professionally edited book is not fair and to be completely honest there are books, even popular ones, that are worse than these on every level.

Now that this out of the way here's my thoughts on aftg in no particular order

I love the main trio sososo much. Probably the main reason why i enjoyed this as much as i did is them. All of their interactions are immaculate. I hoped for a three-way relationship till the end

Neil is such a good protagonist. He's insane but he's convinced that he's normal. The fact that he can't shut up sends me every time and even funnier is that even if everyone knows that he can't keep his mouth shut no one does anything to stop him ever, they just let him. And he is so ace you can't change my mind

I love Andrew he's so edgy. And even if he's so incredibly edgy his backstory still hits hard. Kinda disappointed that all of his obsession with Kevin basically disappeared in the last book (with a couple of exceptions) for no good reason, i wanted it to be more prominent in the resolution but it just fizzled out

Kevin. Kevin is my fave. I love him to bits. He is the dark haired deuteragonist of a sport anime. He is the Kageyama of this series. He has two mood 1 being obsessed with exy and 2 having a panic attack 10/10. And i don't care if he has a girlfriend, to me he is ace. The author can say what they want but i don't give a shit. Ace icon that only think about sport and have mental breakdowns

Speaking of Kevin's girlfriend Thea... she's the most weird character in the books. She's name dropped out of nowhere halfway through book 2, then she's never mentioned again till the second to last chapter where she appears for three pages, she does nothing relevant for the plot and she disappear again. She's one of the few characters who has a proper physical description so we know she's hot but her impact is zero. You can remove her and nothing will change. Kevin would have ended up there even without her so why even include her? Like girl you're hot but who are you and what are you doing here?

Talking about hot girls, Allison is my queen. She's iconic, she never said anything wrong ever in three books. She is the only one asking the real questions and she deserved more pages. She and Renee should have kissed at the end

The only thing that keeps the series from being set in generic contemporary times is the way Matt styles his hair. That is so mid y2k every time it's mentioned i got whiplash

Sad that the slurs disappeared after the first book i found them funny and a good way to convey the year the story is set in

The "your intricate and endless daddy issues" is one of the best line ever written it will never leave my vocabulary

Riko has the worst daddy issues imaginable which is 1 funny 2 makes him a good character and i almost feel for him... but then i remember he hurt Kevin sooooo

Jean is pathetic in a endearing way. But he's french and that makes hin lose a lot of points

I'm sad that the Trojans are there for only one chapter i wanted to see more of them

The way Neil talks about Kevin is hilarious. He can't stand him but he talks about him like the second coming of christ. Everything would have been solved if they just had a make out session in the locker room

Still not over the fact that while this books are very much about sport the yakuza is a prominent part of the story. Like that is an important part, half of the books are about it

The ravens are the least serious element in all of this. There's tension about Neil's lies being unveild and Kevin general well being and you are worried for them... and out of nowhere appears the villain team of a children's cartoon with all of them with the same clothes and walking in v formation how am i supposed not to laugh! And how is no one asking questions about them?? After 5 years of living in a cult they are released into the world and you are telling me that they are well adjusted enough to not rise any suspicion about what is going on in there?? No one is asking why there are living quarters in a bunker under a stadium?? If only one person says something after they graduate they will be fucked, there's no one with a family in that team? Why does the yakuza let this happen?!?!?!

The 16 hours long days during the holidays will plague me till the day i die it makes no sense and i find it hysterical. Why are they doing it? Don't know but they do

Riko has a spit kink i said what i said

[scattermindsage]

Reading a Book with Feels Like Climbing a Mountain (With No Map) To You ?

Hey there, fellow scatterbrains (and honorary scatterbrains).

Let’s talk about something I’ve been struggling with lately: reading a book. I don’t mean textbooks or anything boring—those are a whole other nightmare. I mean books I actually want to read. Fiction, fantasy, self-help, memoirs—you name it. I love the idea of reading books, but sitting down and focusing long enough to actually finish one? That’s where things fall apart.

If you’ve got ADHD, you probably know exactly what I mean.

The ADHD Reading Struggle

So, here’s how it typically goes for me:

1. Excitement Stage

I hear about a new book, and suddenly it’s all I can think about. The cover looks amazing, the blurb hooks me, and I’m convinced this book will Change. My. Life. I rush to buy it—because waiting is not an option when you’ve got ADHD and a hyperfixation brewing.

2. Start Strong, Fizzle Fast

The book arrives, and I dive in with all the energy of a toddler on sugar. The first 10 pages? Amazing. I’m loving it. My brain is hooked. But then… something shiny distracts me. Maybe it’s my phone, maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t had a snack in two hours, or maybe it’s just that my brain decided to think about 25 other things at the same time.

3. The “Wait, What Did I Just Read?” Spiral

Even when I try to focus, my brain has other plans. I’ll read the same paragraph three times because halfway through, my mind wanders off. Suddenly I’m not in the story anymore—I’m wondering if my neighbor’s cat ever gets bored or planning what I’ll eat for breakfast tomorrow. When I snap back to reality, I have no clue what’s happening in the book, and I have to start over.

4. Abandonment

At some point, I inevitably put the book down. Not because I don’t like it, but because it feels like too much effort to keep going. I tell myself I’ll come back to it tomorrow, but “tomorrow” turns into next week, next month, or never. And then I feel guilty because how hard can it be to just read a book?!

Why This Happens

Here’s the thing:

Reading a book requires sustained focus, and that’s not exactly ADHD’s strong suit.

Our brains crave novelty and stimulation, so when a book slows down or doesn’t grab us instantly, it’s hard to stay engaged. Add in time blindness (aka forgetting how long you’ve been reading) and executive dysfunction (aka struggling to start or finish tasks), and you’ve got the perfect storm for an unfinished book pile. It’s not that we don’t want to read—it’s that our brains make it ridiculously hard to stick with it.

Tips That (Sometimes) Help

Over the years, I’ve found a few tricks that make reading a bit easier. They don’t work every time, but hey, progress is progress:

Audiobooks Are a Lifesaver

If focusing on a physical book feels impossible, try listening instead. Audiobooks let you “read” while doing other things, like cleaning or walking. Plus, a good narrator can make even a slow book feel exciting.

Choose ADHD-Friendly Books

Short chapters, fast-paced stories, or books with lots of dialogue work best for me. Bonus points if the book has a good cliffhanger at the end of every chapter.

Set a Timer

Sometimes I trick my brain into reading by telling myself, “Just 10 minutes.” More often than not, I’ll get sucked into the story and keep going after the timer ends.

Take Breaks

There’s no rule that says you have to finish a book in one sitting. Read a chapter, take a break, and come back when your brain feels ready.

Be Kind to Yourself

This is the most important tip. Struggling to read doesn’t make you lazy or less smart. Your brain just works differently, and that’s okay.

A Love Letter to My ADHD Readers

If you’re reading this and nodding along, please know you’re not alone. It’s not just you. The unfinished book pile? The frustration of reading the same sentence over and over? The guilt? Yeah, I get it.

You don’t need to read like everyone else. You just need to read like you.

But here’s the thing: you’re not failing. You’re navigating the world with a brain that’s wired for creativity, curiosity, and a million ideas at once. So maybe reading a book takes you longer. Or maybe you read differently—through audiobooks, podcasts, or summaries. That’s okay.

Until next time,

ScatterMindSage

[fantasticcloudcreation]

Rambling about body things

Ok so I just took a shower and was staring at my naked body in the mirror for many minutes afterwards (as one does) and I think I'm actually pretty skinny right now. Like the number on the scale keeps throwing me off bc I've gained muscle and I feel like it should be lower based on what my body is looking like; and then I just looked through all my selfie videos from the past couple years (I live in a van and don't have a mirror lol so I take a lot of videos which turns out to be great records for bödy chëcking) and I'm actually skinnier than I have been in like 3 years. Like September 2021 was the last time I actually looked "skinny" and I think I'm almost close to it again??

And it's funny that all my posts on here are like flip flopping between trying to convince myself that I'm already skinny or trying to convince myself to lose the last 10 pounds bc both are kinda true but it's also important to remember that in the grand scheme of things I'm officially in the skinny category by society standards (thanks America) and I want to keep it this time. Like the differences might not be so noticeable to other people (once they start commenting again I'll be happy lol) but for now it's almost good enough and it's feeling really motivating to go the extra step and actually get there and stay there, you know? Like I'm so close and with another month or two I think I'll be satisfied... If I keep it up.

It's funny that I keep writing all this out (how many times have I said these things here) and it's like I'm channeling all my motivational energy into writing these posts when I could be channeling it into exercising and meal planning lmfao. At the same time maybe it's helping bc here I am almost skinny again?

Just trying to get in the mindset that yes I'm already "skinny" and yes I can still be skinnier and yes I'm going to achieve it and keep it up for more than a few months this time. Reminding myself that every time I've been skinny in the past, I eventually gained again; and that's ok but wouldn't it be nice to actually maintain it for a while??? Maybe this is my year. Seems like everything else in my life is coming together right now and I'm in a phase of leveling up and I should include my appearance in the process; like maybe I can also get better at wearing cool clothes and looking cute at work/social events, you know? Like I have all these goals and I also need to look the part to achieve them. The past 3 years have been a great lil growth period like a seed in the dirt and I'm about to start sprouting a flower :)

It's not all about being skinny, but it helps (a fucking lot...) and the things that will help me get skinny will also help me with career goals (improving fitness, confidence, vibe in general) .

Reminding myself that it's not about "eating less", it's about exercise and nutrition and healthy habits.

Thinking about all the ways I'm leveling up right now. In the past I've had these phases where I get all motivated and make all these goals and plans and get all excited and then just fizzle out after a couple weeks... And I think this time is different. I'm taking steps and already halfway along the path, you know? Like baby steps, sporadically and without clear direction, but steps nonetheless: imagine if I actually get organized and get my shit together and Keep it together, you know?? I feel like I've just been treading water for most of my life, and the past 3 years I've been just kinda floating around, and maybe now I'm ready to start swimming.

Anyway. Life is good. I'm grateful that things are working out and I've gotten to this weird place in my life. I wish my younger self could see me now honestly. All these little things occupying my brain and then I take a step back to look at the bigger picture and this is just such a beautiful time of my life, you know? And things are going to keep changing and growing and who knows what will unfold in the next 3 years! Look how much has manifested in the past 3 years! What a fucking journey!!

To summarize: I'm doing great and I'm going to keep doing great ❤️

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Conner Kent Week 2021, Day One: No Capes, Still Alien

“It’s a UFO.”

“It’s not a UFO.”

“It definitely is,” Bart said in a matter-of-fact tone, talking over Tim. “My brother said he once modified a radio transmitter into picking up alien transmissions and convinced an alien ship to come to Earth. And he said the landing looked just like this.”

“Your brother is insane,” Cassie, who’d previously been quiet throughout this mock-argument, spoke up. “Didn’t he blow up the cafeteria when he was in high school as revenge for budget cuts leading to smaller lunch servings?”

Bart stopped his tromping through the wilderness abruptly, and peered at Cassie with a suspicious eye. “How did you know about that?”

“You told us that story on the first week of camp,” Tim said dryly. “And anyway, this wreckage is way too small for it to be a UFO.”

“But it’s too big for it to be a person,” Bart immediately countered. “Or a person-sized being. So maybe these aliens are tiny, so they have tiny little spaceships, too.”

“Why are you two so convinced it’s aliens in the first place?” Cassie lifted a hefty tree branch, bracing it on her shoulder as the two boys scrambled underneath quickly. Then, after ducking under it herself, she let it fall to the ground gently. “I mean for all we know, it could be a drone test or rocket launch or something.”

“Hey, Cassie. Cass. Cassandra.”

“Yeah, Tim?”

“Have you seen any sci-fi movie at all?”

“I don’t like where this is going, but yes.”

Bart interrupted Tim, “It’s never a drone, or a test flight, or whatever the government or business says. That’s always a coverup. It’s usually something much more interesting, and in this case, it’s likely to be an alien.”

“Exactly,” Tim said. 

Hefting the sizeable backpack higher onto her shoulders, Cassie sighed. “I feel like I should have stayed with the rest of the camp.”

“No you don’t,” Tim dismissed. 

“We’re much more interesting,” Bart said, hopping in front of Tim. “You wouldn’t want to go on this adventure with anyone but us.”

“I’ve known you two for like a week,” Cassie pointed out. “We met at the beginning of this summer camp. Which you two immediately convinced me to ditch.”

“Me and Bart were planning to ditch the camp for weeks,” Tim said as Bart ran ahead. “Ever since we figured out we were going. Besides,” he shot her a cheeky grin, “Is there anyone else you’d rather go off into the woods with?”

Cassie pouted, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye that betrayed just how much fun she was having. She was reasonably certain that this borderline-illegal outcome of a summer camp she didn’t even want to attend in the first place was going to end with her being unquestionably attached to these two insane boys that had dragged her halfway through the forest on a whim. Tim’s train of thought was stopping at the same station Cassie’s was, but Bart’s had long since barged forward and accepted Cassie into his and Tim’s longstanding friendship.

“I think we’re coming up on something!” Bart called from up ahead, then doubled back to meet up with Tim and Cassie. He tugged the strap of Cassie’s backpack in a gesture to stop, the grabbed the water bottle from the side pocket and took a long sip. Wiping his mouth, he said, “There’s a clearing. But not an actual clearing. More like when water falls on a bath bomb and everything fizzles inward and out and disintegrates.”

Cassie squinted at him. “What?”

“He means the clearing didn’t used to be there,” Tim supplied helpfully. “The thing that crashed through the trees and made this wreckage stopped up ahead, and it’s, I don’t know, presence or whatever made all the trees crumble and created a clearing.”

“Like a bath bomb!”

Tim nodded at Bart. “Exactly like a bath bomb.”

Cassie stared at the two of them, then shrugged, taking it in stride. “Alright. Like a bath bomb. How far up ahead?” 

“We’ve got four more giant fallen logs to climb over,” Bart informed her. “So come on, we’re almost there.”

“My entire system of speech and thought is going to be messed up beyond recognition by the time this trip is over,” Cassie sighed.

Tim shot her another one of his smirks. “That’s the plan.”

The three of them did, in fact, climb over four logs. Well, Tim and Bart climbed over the logs, while Cassie used her height to jump smoothly over them. Regardless, the they arrived at the edge of the clearing soon enough, halting their steady march for a second to take in the amount of destruction scattered about.

They could see the splintered remains of forest giants that had probably swooped towards the sky for decades, dirt and mud shoveled up and thrown around everything. And there, at the center of it all, was a boy. At least, he looked like a boy. Clad in a bodysuit of some strange, silvery material, he was sprawled out on the ground, seemingly unconscious.

“I told you it wasn’t a UFO!” Tim exclaimed, elbowing Bart. The other boy grumbled and let his hands droop down in acquiescence. 

After a solid minute of staring, Bart pushed Cassie forward. “Go poke him or something to make sure he’s still alive.”

“Me?” Cassie hissed. “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you’re the biggest, so you can protect us if he turns out to be an evil alien who wants to invade the planet.”

“Tim took jujutsu lessons!” Cassie countered.

“Technically they weren’t lessons,” Tim said. “They were more random things my older brother decided to teach me whenever he visited home every other weekend.”

Right when Cassie opened her mouth to argue, the boy on the ground groaned, stirring. The three of them froze, staring at him as he slowly sat up, a hand on his head like he was in pain. He looked around dazedly, as if trying to get his bearings, but let out a little shriek when he noticed Bart, Tim, and Cassie watching him.

For a couple solid moments, nobody dared to move, a deer-in-headlights on all four of their faces. Just when Tim was about to step forward and brave a question, the boy opened his mouth and beat him to it.

“Does my translator chip work?”

More staring, until the question filtered into Bart’s brain first and he responded, “What’s a translator chip?”

The boy’s expression brightened. “So it does work! Awesome! Uh...” Suddenly, his expression turned fearful. “Don’t hurt me! Please! I don’t want to hurt anyone either, and I really don’t want to fight.”

A moment of silence, then Cassie leaned towards Bart and said, “Is he speaking Spanish?”

“Yeah,” Bart said back. 

“You know Spanish?”

“One of my friends taught me a little bit when I was a kid, and I kept learning.”

“The alien speaks Spanish,” Cassie laughed a little hysterically. “Reality just doesn’t work right around you two, does it?”

“What’s Spanish?” the boy said. 

Both Tim and Cassie turned to Bart, so as designated translator, Bart stepped forward and said in a terribly American accent, “It’s, yknow, the language you’re speaking right now.”

The boy, apparently in Spanish, frowned. “The translator chip’s supposed to turn whatever I say into Earthish.”

Feeling a little like an idiot, Bart said, “We don’t...speak Earthish?”

The boy looked suitably concerned, then suddenly regretful. “Oh no. Am I not on Earth?”

“No no,” Bart said quickly. “You’re on Earth.”

Now the boy just looked confused. “Wait. What’s your planet’s official language?”

“Official language?” Bart asked. “We’re supposed to have one of those?”

At the expression that clearly conveyed the boy was out of his depth, Cassie nudged Bart and whispered, “Ask him something in English.”

“What?”

“Can you understand me?” Tim stepped forward and asked, in English.

“Whoa. Yes,” the boy said, and Cassie breathed a sigh of relief at being able to understand the boy. 

However, now that the four of them were successfully able to communicate, neither of them knew exactly what to say. Eventually, Cassie broke the tension with an incredulous, “So you’re really from another planet?”

“Yes,” the boy sighed. “Hopefully you can take me to your embassy? Wait actually,” his eyes widened and he shook his head. “Don’t do that.”

“Are you on the run or something?” Tim asked.

“I...not exactly,” the boy sighed. Shuffling his feet on the ground, he asked quietly, “Do you guys have clones?”

“You’re a clone?” Bart gasped. The boy nodded miserably, but just as he began to respond, Bart steamrolled over him. “That’s so cool!”

“It’s...cool?”

Displaying a bit of tact, Tim asked, “Is it...not supposed to be cool?”

The boy shook his head. “I was supposed to be an experiment,” he said shyly. “Experiments aren’t supposed to think for themselves, but I could. So I ran away. I didn’t mean to crash land on your planet.”

“You were experimented on?” Cassie said, shocked, though Bart and Tim could hear the protectiveness in her tone. Her voice then turned steely. “You’re not planning on attacking us or killing the human race, right?”

“What? No!” 

“Good. You’re coming with us.” Cassie turned to look at the two boys. “He’s coming with us, right?”

“Definitely,” Tim said, and Bart shook his head. “We could cross the forest and make it towards the gas station that’s a couple miles away. I’ve got Bruce’s credit card, so we can probably bribe someone into helping us get to an airport or something. From there, he can hide out at one of our places.”

“You’re okay with me coming with you?” the boy asked.

“Well, we already made one new friend on this trip,” Bart shrugged. “What’s one more, even if he’s an alien who crash landed from space and speaks Spanish.”

“I’m speaking Northern Kryptonian,” the boy informed them helpfully. 

“Cool!” Bart said, without even hesitating. “By the way, I’m Bart. That’s Tim, and that’s Cassie. What’s your name?”

“Do you even have a name?” Tim asked. “Or identification, or something?”

“My serial number was-” the boy started making a series of clips and chirps. Apparently, alien serial numbers didn’t translate into English well.

“Yeah, we didn’t catch any of that,” Bart said. 

The boy seemed to think for a second, then straightened, with a resolved smirk on his face, self-deprecating yet fierce. “Call me Kon.”

“Kon?”

Kon smiled. “Alien inside joke. It’s nice to meet you.”

----------

can you tell i had no idea how to end this? bc i had no idea how to end this. anyway, i am not going to miss a single day on kon week, i’m not. special thanks to jpeg for providing his very loving support and encouragement.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

[ipuckwithhockey]

Earned- N. Patrick

a/n: This one gets angsty, oops. I’m on a NolPat thing right now, but when are we not? I’m honestly enjoying writing again, so I hope you guys enjoy this one!  

warnings: angst, mentions of sex/oral sex, swearing, divorced parents, drinking (i think that’s it)

------

Nolan loved his friends and family, hockey, and even on occasion Travis Konecny. This was enough for him. He had his close-knit group that he surrounded himself with and that was all he needed. It’s not that he avoided getting attached to people, he just hadn’t found anyone that he felt was worth getting attached to. He was young and focused on his career. Love would come eventually. He just didn’t realize how soon ‘eventually’ would be until he met you.

You met Nolan at a Post Malone concert. Your friend Grace had gotten tickets through her job and you couldn’t just say no to floor seats for Posty. Your seats just so happened to be right next to Nolan, Travis, and Kevin Hayes. You recognized the hockey players instantly, but your best friend just recognized that TK was hot and definitely checking her out. 

By the time Post was ending his show Grace was agreeing that the two of you would join the boys at a bar around the corner. You weren’t planning on going home with anyone that night, but Nolan Patrick was flirting with you and you were a woman of opportunity. So, you found yourself going home with a Flyers forward while your friend went home with another.

Grace was your polar opposite. She was an undying optimist, bubbly, and most notably a romantic. You on the other hand considered yourself a dedicated realist who was levelheaded and decisive. The thought of finding someone to spend the rest of your life with almost made you laugh.  You had no interest in settling for a mediocre relationship that would eventually combust or at best, just fizzled out.

The first night you went home with Nolan was supposed to be the only night you went home with Nolan, but just like the tale as old as time, it was far from a one time occurrence. Grace and TK kept seeing each other and their big personalities actually seemed to mesh well. Grace was happy and you were happy that she was happy. What you weren’t totally sure about was that their blossoming relationship meant you found yourself in the same room as Nolan more often than not. A couple of drunken nights together turned into a habit neither one of you seemed to mind.

Nolan was just as aloof as you when it came to romanticism. That was what you told yourself was the reason why you kept letting yourself fall into his bed every weekend. When he started texting you to come over out of the blue instead of your usual drunken hookups you decided it was time to lay down the law.

“Ok, so just to be clear, because I don’t want to be the reason for any broken hearts and more importantly, I don’t need any lost Flyers games weighing on me, this is just sex. Like we’re not going to be those stupid kids that say it’s just sex but then end up falling madly in love. I don’t do that, and from what I’ve gathered, you don’t do that either. So, if this is going to happen again, or keep happening, then it’s strictly business.”  You’re barely even looking at Nolan as you explain your position. He had quite aggressively ripped your clothes from your body when you arrived at his place tonight and you can’t seem to locate your second sock as you scour his room.

Nolan was still laying naked on his bed, catching his breath, as he watched you in your adopted routine of rushing out of his apartment. He had met girls who were okay with a quick hookup with a famous NHL player, but you were different. You were bold and definitive. You weren’t here because he’s famous, you were here because the sex was good, and that’s why Nolan was here too.

Nolan didn’t make a habit out of hooking up with the same girls more than a couple of times, max. If you hadn’t been so good in bed and so open to just having sex, he probably wouldn’t have entertained the idea at all. You couldn’t deny that having Nolan between your legs a few times a week wasn’t a good thing. In fact, it was a great thing.  Nolan might not spend much time talking, but he definitely knows how to use his mouth. You both left each other at the end of the night tired and satisfied, and that didn’t seem like a bad thing. 

“Mkay. I promise I won’t fall in love with you. My track record is pretty good, so if you need references, I can probably get you their numbers. They probably wouldn’t be thrilled about you calling to ask them about how I’m a heartless asshole, but you can give it a swing.” You can’t help but laugh as your brain deciphers the mumbles that just came from the half sleeping body in front of you.

The second or third time you hung out with the boys you were at a party. You were teasing Nolan about all the girls who were trying so hard to get his attention, and he replied that they probably wouldn’t try so hard if they knew how their short lived fling would end.  He had a bad habit of accidentally leading girls on, thinking they were on the same wavelength but then being met with a pissed off girl who thought “they had something special.”

“Perfect. And if you somehow end up falling for my stunning good looks and amazing personality, just do me a favor and let me know so I can run for the hills.” And with that you gave him a wink and were out the door. Nolan couldn’t hold in the laugh that fell from his lips as he continued to take in the personality you had begun to share with him.

—————

It’s been two months since the two of you settled your business deal and things were good. Grace and TK had made it official and she insisted on bringing you with her to team gatherings and games. You and Nolan went over to each other’s places when the other called or texted, and the sex was still as good as it was the first time.

The two of you developed a friendship and your post sex talks began to last a little longer on topics that were just a little deeper than the time before. Nolan would ask you about the douche that likes to hit on you at work and you would ask him how hockey was going.  Then he told you about his sisters and and eventually told you a little more about his migraines. When it felt right you would ask him questions that he always provided thoughtful answers to. Nolan Patrick was much more pensive than you initially thought. To be honest you hadn’t really given his personality much thought at all, but as you got to know him you realized his aloof exterior was maybe just misinterpreted.

To his surprise Nolan genuinely liked spending time with you. Unlike most people, you weren’t constantly urging him to be “more social” or outgoing, and even though you were using each other’s bodies for sex, you weren’t greedy. You didn’t ask too much of him or expect certain things because of who he was. He felt like he could breathe around you because he wasn’t constantly trying to satisfy any unattainable expectations.

Even when he talked to you about hockey, he felt like he was just talking about any old 9-5 job; zero pressure to perform for you. You would ask him how it was going even though you already watched the games, and you would let Nolan guide the conversation to where he was comfortable. In many ways Nolan did the same for you. He didn’t press about why you didn’t have a boyfriend or why you didn’t want one. He did query over why you gracefully steered the conversation away from your family. He didn’t pry into things that were too personal, that for some reason, so many people thought they were entitled to.

There was a level of respect present between you that neither of you had experienced with anyone else. In both of your past relationships people always wanted to go fast, immediately trying to see if you were compatible. You and Nolan were just friends having sex with no other expectation, and somehow that allowed the two of you to slowly peel back each other’s layers.

You were oblivious to all of this until one night when your post sex talk didn’t come after sex. It came before. Well, actually the conversation came but neither of you did that night. You were at Nolan’s after a game that hadn’t gone as well as they had hoped. He was tired and you could see it in his eyes. Instead of jumping each other’s bones as soon as he greeted you at the door, you cracked a bottle of wine and settled on the couch.

It was nice. It was two friends having conversation over a bottle of wine. You didn’t talk about hockey or work; it was just talking about nothing. You talked about the lady who gave you one of her extra coupons at the grocery the other day. He explained how he made a sweater once in home ec. ( You’re still not sure if you believe him.)

A couple of hours later, and halfway into your second bottle of wine, Nolan’s curiosity got the best of him.

“So, is there a reason you’re so anti relationship or are you just a serial heart breaker like me?”

Once he asked the question, he realized that he probably shouldn’t have. You hadn’t talked about it before and that probably meant you didn’t want to. You were surprised but his smug joke still made you laugh. Normally you would be a little annoyed by the question, but you felt like you knew Nolan. You knew he wasn’t just trying to get to the juicy part, he just genuinely wanted to know, so you told him.

“Well, if you must know, I am most definitely a serial heart breaker, but that’s just a result of why I’m not thrilled about relationships, not the actual why.”

You take a breath before going on, “My parent’s marriage was horrible. They fought constantly and I don’t think I ever saw them genuinely happy together. They insisted on staying together. Their families, my grandparents, were both pretty ‘well-to-do’ and I’m pretty sure my parents were just staying together to save face with them and their circle of rich friends. I’m not sure why, because none of their marriages seemed any different. They’re all divorced now, and remarried to even shittier people. But before that, it became more of a game than anything else. — it started getting bad when I was in middle school.”

You look out the window in front of you. Through it, you can see the city of Philadelphia. A city you came to for college, with the hopes of leaving your old life behind. 

“My mom started to go out to the country club and wherever else, and then she’d come home in the middle of the night, drunk, after doing god knows what or god knows who. My dad would go on business trips just to get away, and I’m pretty sure he was cheating on my mom too at that point. I never really saw them, and when I did they were always fighting. We didn’t have fun holidays and if my brother wasn’t there no one was in the stands cheering me on at my soccer games. Hell, by that point I preferred no holidays and no parents at my games. They didn’t care about me or my brother, and once Caleb went off to college I was on my own. I don’t blame him, I got out as fast as I could too. All we had was each other and we were always close. He’s in New York now, and we still talk pretty regularly, but being at home alone sucked, and being home alone with them sucked even more. I wasn’t always so pessimistic; I’ve dated a handful of guys but obviously they never worked out. Then I met a guy in college, and I thought wow this guy is unbelievable. He was perfect— Josh was his name. He was in grad school and he was smart and funny and said all the right things. I was young and naive, and I think I just wanted someone to love me, so I let him. And I let him take advantage of my time and energy. I let him lie to me and I let him cheat on me. And when I finally woke up from whatever trance I was in I realized that I had been looking at the world through rose colored glasses. I promised myself that I was never going to let myself do that again. I wasn’t going to rely on anyone but myself… I wasn’t going to give all of myself to someone just to wait for it to fall apart… The proof was in the pudding, relationships just don’t work, and that is why I’m so anti-relationship.”

You hadn’t looked Nolan in the eyes since you started in on your monologue, afraid that you may have just scared off your friend. Nolan was still taking it all in, reveling over the years of your life you had just laid out for him.

He had grown up in a loving family where his parents did everything they could to give him and his sisters the perfect childhood. They spent every weekend driving around Canada for hockey tournaments. He still talks to his sisters almost every day even though they’re thousands of miles away. His mom insists on carry out whatever holiday traditions she can even with Nolan in Philly. And here you were with a childhood that couldn’t have been more different than his. He didn’t want a relationship because he couldn’t find anyone he felt was worthy of his time and energy, but here you were, closed off to the world because you thought that unconditional love wasn’t real.

He didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything he could say, so instead he pulled you from your side of the couch to his, where he wrapped you up in his warm arms. You sat like that for a long time, not saying anything, not even moving, just letting him hold you. You didn’t even realize you had started crying until you felt Nolan’s hands wipe away the tears that were staining your face, and that small gently gesture was what made you snap. That’s when it boiled over, when it became too much too fast.

“I’m sorry... God. I shouldn’t have even said anything. And now I’m crying like a fucking idiot. It’s probably just the wine. It’s late, I should get going. Just forget I said anything, ok?”

And just like that you had grabbed your coat, faceted your shoes, and were out the door of his apartment. Nolan’s brain couldn’t keep up with yours and by the time he heard his door slam shut it was too late to tell you that everything was okay.

—————

Nolan tried calling you after that night, but he couldn’t get a hold of you. You couldn’t talk to him. You knew you couldn’t look him in the eyes, because for a couple of seconds you got too comfortable, you let go and let him in. It was a mistake, and Nolan would surely know that too. You had both decided this was just a transaction of sex, nothing more. You were the one who took it past that. You could have just brushed off the question that Nolan was surely regretting now.

Nolan was regretting asking that question, but not because he didn’t want to know. He regretted it because you were gone now, and he didn’t know how to get you back. You had both promised not to fall in love, not to affect each other’s lives, but that’s exactly what happened. Nolan was in love with you.

Kevin had to spell it out for Nolan as he sat on his couch explaining what had happened. Nolan knew he cared about you, but he hadn’t deciphered what that feeling in the pit of his stomach was when he saw you. He couldn’t explain why he had to constantly rub the back of his neck in nervousness when he caught you staring from across the room. He didn’t know what any of it meant.  

“Dude. I’m dumb. Like I’m big-Boston-hockey-dude dumb, but you’re an idiot. You’re in love with her man.”

“What? We’re friends, I’m just worried about her.”

“Well, she’s in love with you too.”

“It’s just sex.”

“If you were just friends, and if it was just sex, you guys would be fucking right now, and you wouldn’t be mopping here on Saturday night because she told you about her life and won’t talk to you now. She wouldn’t have told you that shit, and she wouldn’t be ignoring you now if she didn’t have feelings for you. You said it yourself, she doesn’t let people in, but she let you in.”

She let me in. That’s all Nolan could think. Maybe Kevin had a point. Maybe he did love her. Maybe you somehow loved him too. Nolan couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. A couple days later he was getting more comfortable with all the reasons he loved you, but he still couldn’t figure out why you would love him.

He loved you because you were unwavering, absolute, and even a bit brazen. Over time Nolan had found that underneath that outside shell there was so much more. There was a girl who if you were patient and gentle, she might just let you in a little bit at a time. She unveiled her scars and her wounds, and Nolan was going to do anything he could to help them heal. He didn’t know that the feelings you were denying were nearly identical to the ones he was having right now. 

It’s been two weeks since you spoke to Nolan. You had also been ignoring Grace and Travis’ attempts to figure out what the hell was going on. You were telling yourself it was fine, and that everything would blow over. What you didn’t expect to see was a large body sitting in front of your apartment door when you got home from work.

“What are you doing here?” You didn’t meet his eyes as his towering frame rose from the floor. You kept your eyes fixed on your purse as you fished out the keys to your door, and as you stuck them into the door you weren’t sure if you should slam the door behind you or turn to listen to what he had to say.

“I know that you think I’m gonna be like every other guy, and I’m gonna use you or hurt you, and maybe I will, but if you let me try, I’ll try my hardest to never let that happen because it would break me to break you. I don’t need you to give me every piece of yourself right now, I don’t want it right now— “

You scoffed. For an apology or a speech or whatever it was you were listening to, it didn’t seem to be going too well.

“-I don’t want it right now, because I know I don’t deserve it. It has to be earned. Trust is earned and I just want you to give me the chance to earn it. I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t share yourself with people because you think they’ll be disappointed or throw it away because it’s not what they wanted. But that’s not what this is. I’m a huge idiot and I didn’t realize this until recently, but I trust you. I totally and completely trust you. I can’t say that about many people, but I can say that about you. You’ve earned it. I’ve let you into parts of my life and you’ve welcomed them. You brought me closer, and for the first time in a long time I didn’t want to run away. I’m not going to say it, because I know you need time, I know that if we do this, we have to take it slow, but I think you know how I feel about you because you feel the same way about me. Or at least I really really hope you do, because I’m totally falling for you amazing personality and stunning good looks.”

Nolan is practically out of breath after the word vomit that has escaped his mouth. You’re taking it all in. You’re taking him in, and you can’t help but let a smile creep onto your face.  Nolan somehow put everything you didn’t know you needed into words and you still didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything.  Instead, you pulled him close to you and wrapped your short arms around his torso as you felt his own engulf your body. You both melted into each other and for the first time in weeks felt like you could breathe.

Neither of you were sure what was going to happen next, and how this would unfold, but you were willing to give him a chance. You were willing to let him show you what this could be, what you could be together, because you had both earned it. 

[bastillia]

Innocuous (NSFW)

Read on Ao3

Summary: You’re a medical officer aboard the Steadfast, and you’ve found yourself caring for a gravely injured Kylo Ren. He seems to require some unconventional treatment.

Rating: Extremely Explicit

Words: 7.5k

Content warnings: Somewhat graphic depictions of injury, wound/bloodplay, burnplay, oral bloodplay, oral sex (f recieving), orgasm denial/delay, choking, inappropriate use of the Force (and of a medical device oops), rough sex, extremely minimal aftercare, Kylo Ren is a nasty fucking boy, LISTEN this gets a lil dark ok, so just please consider before clicking ok tysm

A/N: I scrapped and restarted this whole thing at least twice, but we finally got there my friends. Is this over the top? Maybe. Do I have a single regret? No. Please heed the content warnings, you may have a bad day if you don’t. This is pure unadulterated filth. Enjoy!

Strips of fluorescent light ribbed the vacant hall, white beams streaking reflections across the glossy black floor like a frozen lane of hyperspace as the urgent click of your boots perturbed the calm. The corridors of the Steadfast were all but barren this time of cycle, only disturbed by the occasional patrol of noc shift troopers trudging mechanically in unison. Devoid of the usual bustle of footsteps and orders, the static hum from the ship’s walls washed the air with a bassy din of ambient noise that might be calming, were your heartbeat not adding an anxious percussion to the silence.

You really had no reason to be awake, you should have taken your sleeping aid hours ago, but the endless scroll of patient files on your datapad had kept you up just long enough to see the alarm flash. Hardly a momentary blip, but the peculiarity of it was what propelled you from your quarters and heated your step with urgency now. Medical Bay: Intake - Officer’s Ward, it had flashed, and then disappeared just as quickly.

Tapping the access pad that led to the sequestered corridor, you waited for the door to slide open and slipped through. Needles crawled up your spine as your gaze shifted around the familiar yet eerily still hallway, which was making you nervous now for absolutely no reason. Each private room should be empty, you knew you hadn’t checked any officers in for overnight care, and you could recite your inpatient registry as if it were etched into the backs of your eyelids. Droids didn’t typically throw faulty alarms -- maybe your eyes had simply deceived you after a long and fucking exhausting day of post-mission damage control in the med bay. Echoes of that exhaustion now placed a terror within each shadowed room that you passed, something that your brain was convinced would surely jump out at you.

You stopped dead as you reached the final door, half-hoping this one was your imagination. He was still. Too still. Limbs sprawling over the edges of the cot, with haphazard bandages crossing his bare torso aimlessly. They were visibly soaked through with blood, contrasting the blanched sheen of sweat-drenched skin, a black mop of hair askew over the pillow.

A violent spike of dread lanced down your spine. You darted into the room, your medical instincts hot-starting and roaring in your eardrums as you alighted upon him with gentle precision. Two fingers flashed to the pulse point at his neck, depressing the slick, hot skin there as your frantic eyes fell to the broad rise of his chest. Pulse. Breathing. Both too shallow and fast, but present, thank the stars.

You released the held breath that was starting to burn your lungs. The alarm. What had sent it? You glanced around. Monitor wires lay scattered over the floor around the metal feet of the bed, not a single one connected. A fizzling noise behind you nearly snapped your neck as you whipped around. A nurse droid lay lifeless, crumpled and sparking against the far wall.

Oh.

You turned slowly back to the unconscious Supreme Leader, fear trickling coldly down your veins in a moment of consideration. He’d wanted to be alone.

Your mind suddenly supplied you with an image of yourself in place of the droid, bones crunched like scrap metal against the wall, eyes glazed, life flickering and dying in the fried wires of your veins. How easy it would be -- effortless, even -- For him to crush the life out of you with little more than a flick of his wrist. How… maybe that knowledge made you tingle, just a little.

You derailed that train of thought with a sharp shake of your head as your eyes flicked across his battered torso and up the column of his neck, settling on the tranquility of his face. Bruised and bloody as it was, he looked… peaceful. Freckles and moles dusting his skin like starry kisses to soothe the ache of battle. His features, always chiseled from the sternest isoform of marble, now softened in sleep. Suspended in a paradoxical state of youthful serenity even as his body worked in overdrive just to tether him to life. He was… just a man. And he was absolutely beautiful.

Maybe you stared at him, just a little longer than you should, before committing to your courage and snatching an antiseptic cloth. If one of you was going to die, at least you were the more replaceable option. And this was what you’d signed up for, wasn’t it? To serve the First Order, even perhaps at the expense of your life. For… the greater good, or something. Yeah. Higher purpose and all that. You were a good medic, and good medics were selfless. It definitely wasn’t because you, perhaps, didn’t mind entertaining the thought of those large hands around your neck, squeezing...

Fucking focus.

Expertly, delicately, you began to peel back the blood-soaked evidence of his attempt to self-bandage, baring the flesh of his torso. Stars, he was magnificent. Glistening skin lay taut over lean muscle, a finely-tuned war machine sculpted by years of hard training, evident even in the depths of sleep. The subtle ripple of his muscles expanding and contracting with each breath spread that insistent tingle through your lower belly as you meticulously swiped the blood and sweat from his body.

Your hands danced to the pace of your heartbeat. Quick and steady, as you tossed the cloth and fitted a needle onto a syringe tip. A light pinch of his skin here, so that he wouldn't feel the prick of the shot there. Pure habit, not that a small needle stick would hold a candle to his injuries in terms of pain. But you didn’t really want him waking up just yet. You pushed the plunger down to administer a microdose of bacta. Just enough to hotwire the healing process, without dulling sensation.

You'd mused privately to yourself on more than one occasion, that you thought he liked to feel the pain. Whether it was a show of control, or an exercise in self-punishment, you couldn’t say. But you'd learned early on, working here, never to bring a pain suppressant around the former Commander.

Maybe no one else had ever picked up on that, because it seemed you were the only person he ever allowed near him with a bandage. You didn't mind. Nor did you mind the way his eyes always followed you quietly as you worked, as you'd gently cleanse his wounds from the battles and conquests that he fearlessly led as the new Supreme Leader of the First Order. You certainly liked him better than the last one. You thought maybe Ren even liked the way your fingers would subtly worship his figure with every quiet and efficient pass of gauze. Maybe he knew where those fingers ended up later. Sick bastard. A smirk tugged the corner of your lip.

His arm was hanging over the edge of the cot, a cautery pen still held loosely in his bloodied fingers. You sighed, removing the device, and picked his arm up to lay it neatly by his side. The weight of it caught your breath in your chest, the solid and heavy cord of muscle dwarfing your hands.

You quickly shook away the distraction, seating yourself on the bedside stool and turning to your most immediate concern: The deep, ripped laceration that bled from his lower abdomen. Vibroblade, you’d wager. It was oozing around the half-cauterized flesh, ugly and red from where he'd clearly begun to try and solder himself shut. You gently placed the cauterizer on the bedside stand. A crude tactic, and not one you would settle for, you decided as you retrieved a sterile suture pouch instead. Preparing another antiseptic cloth and gauze for the blood, you hovered back over the wound.

A realization started to echo along the tunnel of your focus, and the walls crashed away with a thump of your heart as you stared at Ren's flank beneath you, where his breathing had notably deepened and steadied. Your hands froze as your eyes shifted up the planes of his torso, cold spines gouging your chest as you reached his face. His eyes were open, fixed calmly upon your own stare, a flush restored to his full, pouted lips. Ice shattered in your veins.

"S-supreme Leader, I-” You dropped your materials onto the mattress, “You- you want to b-be alone, I'll j-just-" you were stammering, pushing your seat back, brain vibrating with panic. This was it. You escaped now, or you were joining the droid.

You made it about halfway to standing when a hand cinched on your wrist, arresting your movement. Your breath halted as you snapped back around, your heartbeat slamming in your throat.

Something boiled up behind his irises then, trapped so fiercely under the tempered surface of his eyes that his jaw locked tight and his chin quivered slightly with the strain of it. Your brain began to scramble. The look held an unmistakable need, a plea that said, so deafening in its silence, Stay.

You carefully held his gaze as you began to sink back down onto the small seat beside the bed. Your hand was trembling under his grip, every drop of air evaporating in your lungs as his pleading eyes burned through you. You slowly let yourself sit until your weight rested fully on the stool again.

Ren’s body slackened, releasing the air back into the room, and his head dropped back onto the thin pillow in a flutter of raven locks. His eyes drifted shut as a breath rolled through his nose and deep into his chest.

His grip had eased around your wrist, enough for your brain to now register the pleasant warmth of his enormous hand as it softly enveloped the lower part of your forearm. The sensation dumbfounded you for a moment as you stared between your arm and your Supreme Leader's face. The muscles in his brow twitched over his closed eyes as several more controlled breaths seemed to forcibly banish something from his body.

You came back to yourself as a trickle of dark blood drew your gaze back down to his abdomen, where it painted a river over bruised flesh before falling down his side to soak crimson sunbursts into the white sheet. You cautiously twisted your wrist free, and he let his hand drop softly back to the sheet without resistance. Hesitantly, you ran a hand across his skin, next to the gaping wound, inspecting the separated flesh. Firm muscles bunched under your touch, tugging at the ragged edges and inspiring another pulse of fresh red. You studied his face as his lashes lifted open again to meet your eyes. It took you a moment to find your breath.

"I... need to close this," you breathed, tracing a featherlight and completely instinctive touch of reassurance over his intact skin near the wound. He chewed the inside of his lip.

"Do it."

Your belly fluttered at the low command, his eyes never wavering from your gaze. You swallowed. Standing slowly to bend over his abdomen, you studied the open section of the wound. The edges were relatively clean, and it didn't look like the blade had made it deep enough to hit anything vital. The bleeding was nasty though, despite your meticulous cleaning job. His skin here would naturally be taut over firm abdominal muscles, a high tension area, you noted. You’d need to place dermal sutures if you wanted them to hold. Your brow knitted in preemptive sympathy.

“This is going to hurt.” You muttered.

Well, perhaps that was obvious. But stitching up conscious patients was not exactly your area of expertise, so maybe in a way, you were preparing yourself more than him. You were surprised at how well you managed to withhold the tremor from your hands as you quickly cleaned the wound again. It steeled your resolve slightly.

You tossed the soaked gauze, and plucked a curved needle and sinewy thread from the sterile bag. You readied your hand over the cleansed wound and flashed your gaze up to Kylo Ren’s eyes, waiting for... well, you didn’t know. Any kind of final approval or declination, maybe. He said nothing, but his eyes burned you steadily as his jaw locked in place, making the tightness in your chest flutter and twist. Swallowing, you turned back to the half-closed gash. You quickly threaded the first set-back stitch with nimble precision, and tugged the edges closed.

Ren’s muscles locked up with a full-body grunt, and a broad hand shot up from where it lay on the bed to grip the inside curve of your thigh. A jolt leapt through your body, setting your heart at a wild pace. Surely that was just a reflex. Surely he would let go. Blinking, you tried to find the voice in your chest.

"You… you have to r-relax." It came out more breathless than you intended as you fumbled only slightly with tying and cutting the thread. You paused to steady yourself, ignoring how warm your skin felt under his hand. A deep breath rolled through the Supreme Leader, and to your utmost shock, his core slackened obediently.

His hand did not leave your thigh. You took a breath and forced yourself to continue, fingers curling to pierce and thread the next suture through the tender, deep layer of skin. A lower, longer vibration left Ren’s nose as his large fingers gripped tighter into the soft pillow of your flesh. Your breath came shallow as your brain ignited, trying not to file that noise away under the category of pleasure. No. Stop that. You refused to indulge the thought, or the warmth that it shot through your lower body, as you refocused on your work.

You fixed your eyes firmly on your target, not letting yourself meet his gaze again. The next few sutures were accompanied by sounds from Ren that you diligently ignored. If you acknowledged what they sounded like, your focus would be obliterated. It already half was. But the growing hum at the apex of your thighs could not be indulged, could not break your concentration, even if it was just above where his hand… Oh.

Oh.

His thumb traced the slowest line along the crease of your groin.

It was impossible not to notice the stiffness that was beginning to tent his pants, close to where your face hovered over his lower abdomen. A shiver caressed your spine at the sight, as all of the heat in your body began to gravitate to the heartbeat in your cunt. You swallowed thickly. Stars help you, the sight of him. Supreme Leader Kylo fucking Ren, laying underneath you, his cock getting hard as you caused him excruciating pain. And you… you fucking... liked it.

His hand shifted then, sliding upwards to press a single, precise stroke along the concealed line of your heat. “Oh-” The soft moan came unwillingly from the bottom of your chest, and you braced one hand out on the mattress as your knees turned to liquid. Your body responded so automatically that it made your head spin, your thighs shifting wider, inviting his touch. You could have passed out when he curled his hand to pet another slow stripe over your clothed slit. 

Panting now, you lifted a pleading stare to meet his eyes. They were hooded black vats of desire, and your heart dropped right through your cervix as they drank you in. Your face tingled hot. Your brain wobbled along the line between finishing your task, and the primal need that was erupting through your belly. Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

“Supreme Le-”

"Off." He interrupted lowly, pinching at the fabric of your pants. You weren't sure why you obeyed so fucking immediately, but before you could think, your thumbs were hooking into your waistband, and then you were stepping out of your boots, trousers, and underwear, kicking them carelessly across the floor. The tails of your white coat tickled your exposed skin as you positioned yourself back over his wound, wet cunt bared and leaking down your thighs. Cheeks burning with a heat that reached all the way down to your chest, you pointedly avoided his eyes. You tried to steady your hands, and you swore you could feel his gaze stoking a wildfire at your core. You swallowed, staring detachedly at your fingers.

No, the medic instinct in you wouldn’t allow you to leave your work half finished. If you had the wherewithal to think about it, you might have concluded that he knew this, but that didn’t mean he would hold back in making it as difficult as possible for you now that you were, well, in this state. Taking a breath, you threaded another stitch. This time he shamelessly groaned, and his fingers slipped easily through the silky heat of your slit. You gasped, almost doubling over again as you tied off the suture.

You finally looked at him. His nostrils were flared and his throat bobbed, as he watched his own long fingers collect the wetness that leaked from your core. Pleasure and shame waged war across your skin, and your knees went weak as he met your eyes again.

“Keep going,” he stated calmly, gesturing with only his eyes towards the wound that was now nearly shut.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eliciting a hiss of breath from the Supreme Leader as his fingers passed in a slow arc around the top of your stiff clit.

How you managed it, you had no idea, but in very little time you were looping the last thread over itself, tightening it, and cutting. You blinked, looking back along the neat line of sutures as Ren continued idly stroking at your slit, sending shocks down to your toes.

“D-done.” You stammered as you shuffled your supplies together and started to step back.

With a flash of rippling muscle, Ren sat up and captured the back of your neck, pulling you in just inches from the strong curve of his nose. Your materials clattered to the floor as your legs nearly buckled from the sudden weight of his proximity, his gaze pitching you in an inky black tide of lust.

“Gentle little thing,” he pondered, running a thumb under your jaw. Your lungs simply didn’t function any more, you decided, as heat chased the air from the bottom of your bronchioles and out into the space between you. “I’ve wondered about you.”

Your voice hiccuped dumbly in your chest. “Ab-bout me, S-supreme Lead- oh.” Your question hung unfinished from your slack jaw as the pad of his finger shifted wetly across your clit, shooting a liquid flame up your spine that burst in your brain.

“Mm,” he supplied in acknowledgement, his lust-blackened gaze all but swallowing you whole. “Such a pretty thing...” Heat flowered in your cheeks again. “So unassuming.” He slid two fingers down your slick folds towards your entrance, and the delicate stem of a whimper crawled from your throat.

“You want to let go.” He stated in a deep, near-whisper. “Don’t lie to yourself, officer, I can feel your need for it.” You shuddered. Absolutely you wanted to let go. You wanted to do a lot of things, but mostly anything that would elicit those sounds that he was making before, while you punctured his dermis with a curved fucking needle.

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” Your voice seemed far away in your own ears.

The hand around the back of your neck curled slowly until it tightened into the hair follicles at your nape, and the pinpricks sent a thrilling voltage through your nerves that made you gasp.

"Just as I thought," he hummed, the smallest hint at a smirk twitching on the corner of his mouth. “Your desires are far from innocuous.” The lust that thickened his voice had you clenching.

He held your hair tightly, the pain scraping down your spine and feeding heat into the coiling, writhing need that hummed above your thighs. He began to lean back and pull you with him, until you had to shuffle your knee onto the mattress to keep from falling. His hand abandoned the wet heat between your legs, and a solid arm slid impatiently around your waist instead, pulling your hips firmly over him until you straddled his lap on the generous cot.

The feeling of his clothed, straining cock nestling against your folds chased a whine over your lips, and Ren caught it in its tracks, drinking down the sound as his plush lips claimed your open mouth. Fire exploded through your body and your hands flew to his chest, sliding up over hot, bruised skin until your nails were dragging up his neck and into the inky softness of his hair. A deep growl quaked in his chest and his tongue slid greedily across the roof of your mouth, coaxing your jaw wider for him.

You felt his hands slide to grasp the lapels of your coat and yank them over your shoulders. With a thrill of excitement, you threw your arms back to allow him to shuck the garment roughly from your body. Your shirt followed over your head, forcing you to surface from the depths of the kiss with a vulgar wet sound. The second you were free, his massive hand trapped your wrists behind your back, and you gasped at the sudden feeling of immobility. Kylo Ren pinned you under his dark gaze, pulling your arms to arch your back and press your tits up towards him, his eyes devouring the bareness of you that he displayed for himself.

Then he lunged. His hot mouth latched into your neck and worked down to your chest, his strong grip arching you further until his lips pursed around your pebbled nipple. Your jaw fell open in a gasp as he slid his tongue across the bud and drew it between his teeth, pinching just hard enough to leave it aching, and mirrored the action on your other breast. He hummed as he moved back up to lick wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, sliding along your skin until you felt hot breath flood the sensitive hollow of your ear.

“I wonder how you taste, pretty thing.”

The sound that left you was fucking obscene, his words dissolving every bone in your body. You instinctually ground down on his swollen cock, seeking pressure lest your cunt actually rupture with need.

He began to lay back, his hands releasing your wrists, and your strained muscles flooded with relief. Clutching your thighs, he pulled your hips insistently to follow his face back to the head of the cot. A nervous tremor wracked you as he guided your thighs over his shoulders, the realization crashing over you all at once. You were about to sit on the face of the most dangerous man in the fucking galaxy. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose to your mons, inhaling deeply and releasing a growling moan that vibrated right up your body.

A deep magenta bruise flowered his temple and cheekbone, decorating the seam where the flesh of your thigh now ended and his face began. Your core clenched in anxious anticipation, and he turned his face to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your thigh. Remnants of fear were still paralyzing your chest, but the bolt of pain that flashed up your body pierced through it and into your brain for a moment of blissful clarity. You moaned as you suddenly registered just how much pulsing heat was settling inside your walls, aching now to be soothed by his tongue. He ran his hands down your sides and gripped your hips, and he leveled a dark look up at you that liquefied your bones.

"Please…" you began to whisper.

In a flash, he took your hands and pinned them to the small of your back, then thrust his warm, flat tongue against your cunt with a low groan. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he licked a wide stroke up the length of your slit, parting your folds and dragging the flat of his tongue across your swollen nub. Tingling pleasure erupted through your lower body, the feeling of him warm and divine and utterly unbelievable. He moved slowly, almost lazily, lost in the taste and scent of you as he began to work that beautiful mouth over every inch of your cunt.

You shifted your hips in desperation, trying to ride his face and gain more friction on the ache that was coiling in your clit, but he locked your arms up roughly, immobilizing you with one of his huge hands around both of your wrists. You whined and he resumed his torturous pace, lapping at you indulgently, rolling his nose across your clit, building a hot pressure in your core that cried painfully for release.

When his lips finally pursed around your bud, his tongue sliding across it in a way that shot light behind your retinas, it was enough to send you reeling. “Oh, fuck-” you groaned as you felt your orgasm start to pull up tight and hot, your body desperately grasping at its relief.  But then it was plateauing, ebbing, as he slowed and slid his silky tongue away from that epicenter of pleasure.

“No, pl-please, please--” you wailed as you felt your impending orgasm slip away down your spine.

Ignoring you, Ren closed his eyes and swallowed with a grunt, sucking down the arousal that had gushed from your entrance, and you felt it travel through his whole body as he went rigid. He shuddered in consummate pleasure then, and your brain suddenly shifted from grieving your denied orgasm to wondering where his other hand might be. You imagined it wrapped around his own cock, and the thought tightened heat around your spine.

You craned a glance over your shoulder, but the sight that met you paralyzed your brain. His cock was free of his trousers, beautifully hard and leaking a bead of precum onto his stomach, untouched. His fingers were instead plunged into the neat line of sutures that studded his low abdomen, fresh crimson welling around his pressure-whitened fingertips as his body trembled. A protest shot instinctively through your chest. 

“Don’t-”

Two huge hands hooked over your thighs, smearing you with red, and yanked your ass back onto the warm, broad expanse of his chest, cutting off your objection with a breathy yelp. You had little time to bemoan the absence of his mouth at your center before your world was spinning, as Ren flipped you underneath him in a shockingly strong, fluid motion that inverted your senses.

You flailed an arm behind you for balance, but before you could get your bearings, he was hauling you effortlessly down the thin mattress by your hips. A squeak escaped you as your shoulders met linen, and then you were wailing as he devoured you again, his eager tongue sliding hot and heavily down your folds. 

He groaned and slipped two blood-drenched fingers into you, pumping and scissoring them slowly as he massaged your clit with his mouth. Shock and pleasure quaked in equal magnitude through your body, every instinct clashing in a spectacular array as your brain fought against itself. You wanted to be horrified, sickened even, but every nerve ending was screaming in nothing but wretched liberation.

In a wash of euphoria, you submitted to it, let your fingers find and lock into his sweat-dampened hair, let yourself sigh and clench around his warm, wet digits as they stroked against something devastating inside of you. He built you up like this again, higher, tighter, but before you could reach the apex of that perfect ache, just when you were whimpering with the promise of shattering into bliss, something began to coil around your spine. An invisible force -- the Force -- squeezing dark numbness down every nerve below your lumbar spine.

No, no, fuck. Tears rushed to your eyes and you choked out a sob, as you trembled in excruciating bereavement. Your wrists were wrenched to your side and tacked to the bed with that same invisible power while Ren continued to indulge himself in your numb cunt, sucking and lapping steadily at your wet heat. Your insides blazed with need and neglect as you watched him slide his fingers out of you and into his mouth, humming in satisfaction as he savored the mixture of his blood and your slick. That was it. You couldn’t keep quiet.

“Kylo, please-”

His eyes locked onto yours, lips still pursed around his fingers. You did not mean to call him that. You quailed suddenly, in your state of helplessness, at the sight of the large man as he began to crawl over you. He kicked off his trousers, looming until you were caged underneath his powerful body and staring helplessly up into the wicked excitement that roiled in his irises.

“Poor, poor thing,” He taunted as an electric current of sensation shot back down your legs, causing you to yelp. His hips rocked to part your slit with the velvety weight of his cock, his swollen and weeping head dragging moisture across your clit as it tingled with renewed feeling.

“So desperate to cum that you’d forget all respect for me.” The words dripped from his lips to pour over your neck as he nipped above your clavicle, seeping into your blood and heating it tenfold. He felt heavy and inviting and perfect, and you clutched your nails sharply into his sides as a crippling wave of need crashed down your spine. He hissed in a breath, letting it out in a nearly inaudible “Fuck.”

A tear spilled down your cheekbone. He was right, you were absolutely fucking desperate, coiled painfully tight after being ripped back from the edge twice. This was his particular brand of mutual torture, denying your release and losing himself in his pain. You needed to do something, anything, to fracture that infuriating, adamantine control. Anything to break the endless cycle of torment.

Your eyes were drawn down to a river of crimson that streaked into the valley of his hip, welling from the fresh spring of your sutures. A writhing, dark desire slithered up your brain stem, burning with some foreign audacity, and it moved your hand almost on its own. Fuck it, you could play this game, too. 

“Please, Supreme Leader,” You corrected yourself, letting your voice thicken through your tears to a noxious sweetness. “I’ll do anything.” 

Your palm slid to his low abdomen, collecting the warm blood with your thumb and sliding it back up towards the neatly closed wound. You slowly ran your slick digit along the raw edge, your breath catching in your chest as you flicked your gaze back to his eyes, just inches in front of yours. His lips hung open slightly, in disbelief, in want, it was impossible to say. But his pupils were blown wide and hungry as he stilled, the smallest twitch of his eye daring you, pleading you, to continue.

“Anything…” you emphasized in a whisper, holding his stare through your damp lashes as you pressed your thumb into the bruised, inflamed skin, crushing your finger straight into the raw nerves. You dug down, down, watching his lips slowly pull into a wild snarl of pain, his thick cock twitching against your folds as a ragged groan tore through his teeth. You were panting now, watching his eyes as they filled with liquid black fire, unblinking, burning through you.

Heart pounding, you pressed further, building a pinpoint of pressure over the closed wound until you felt the fine strand of a suture give way under the pad of your thumb, popping open with a soft shift of flesh. A choked roar ripped itself from Ren’s chest as his hand came down on your throat. His eyes were glazed with a terrifying need, inches from yours, strands of hair beginning to mat on his face as sweat decorated his skin.

His hips began to sink heavily. The head of his cock pushed past your folds, pressing insistently at the tight heat of your entrance. You whimpered, pulse racing under his grip, and braced your hand involuntarily against his abdomen as your walls began to stretch, the wet sting reverberating up your spine. Your eyes shot to his, pleading, but found them fiendish.

"You’re going to take all of me, pretty thing." His voice was barely above a ragged whisper, caged behind rusted bars of restraint that were slowly splintering across his eyes as he broke you open. “And you’re going to cum around my fucking cock when I tell you to.”

It was all you could do to simply whimper and nod, his words paired with the intense stretch effectively wiping your brain blank now. And the stretch kept coming, endlessly, filling you completely, until you thought you might crack in half. When he finally sheathed himself, his body flattened down heavily on top of you, pinning your hips wide open. You couldn’t move your hand, his sheer mass was crushing your thumb inside the wet, raised flesh of the wound as you felt it leak warmly around the base. A sound caught in Ren’s throat, and a shudder wracked his whole body.

He laid there for only a moment, crushing the air from your lungs, bathing in the pain, before he lifted his torso and began to thrust. Still slowly, still so controlled, breath rolling hot and rabid down your neck. You pulled your thumb from beneath his skin with a sickening squelch. Trembling, a morbid urge had you bringing the hand up to your mouth.

You moved to flick your tongue out over the warm, coppery liquid that was now coating your thumb and beginning to run down your forearm. In an instant, Ren snatched your wrist and pinned it beside your head. Something utterly feral played across his eyes that made your stomach squirm.

He panted through his teeth, eyes drifting across your face to the hand that he had pinned down. “You want a taste, whore?” His tone was somewhere between incredulous and eager, only fueling your desire to pry further at the seams of his restraint. You bit your bottom lip, lifting a pleading look into his eyes, and nodded with a whimper.

“Yes, please, ple-- Ah!” He slammed his cock into your cervix, making you cry out.

He snatched your wrist up with a grunt and enveloped your thumb with the heat of his mouth, swirling his strong, silky tongue around your knuckle to collect the liquid. Your head spun as he drew his lips up and off of your digit, slamming your wrist back down to the mattress and crushing his mouth to yours. His tongue pushed ravenously past the guard of your teeth, and your palette lit up with the sharp mix of metallic blood and the remnants of your cunt on his lips.

It was deafening, the rush that cascaded between your ears and crashed down your body at the visceral taste, the sensation of his hot tongue swiping across yours, passing the grotesque mixture back and forth. You moaned into his mouth and he shuddered, gripping your jaw muscles to force your mouth open as he drew away, resuming the rhythm of his thrusts. He spat a thick emulsion of blood and saliva into your open mouth before releasing your face, shoving your jaw closed with the heel of his palm. From this angle he could see your neck ripple as you swallowed, and the sight had him deepening his thrusts with a low groan.

Yes, yes, finally. His cock stroked fire along your walls, the sensation of fullness making your eyes roll into your skull. Drunk from deprivation, you wanted more. You blindly reached down the contour of his obliques and drove your thumb back into his wound, finding the slight firmness of another suture and digging into his flesh until you felt a sinewy pop. Kylo Ren roared, his hips stuttering as his body locked up in a rippling wave of tension. Eyes wild, he gripped your throat again, yanking you roughly as your eyes flew open and met his.

“Fucking filthy slut.”

He slammed into you at a merciless pace, hurtling you past any possibility of orgasm and straight into overstimulation as your body burned around him. Your vision swam, your ears beginning to ring as he pounded you relentlessly. Blood struggled to reach your brain under his grip, building a pressure in your skull that made your face vibrate.

He slowed his pace suddenly, and heat sparked to the tips of your nerves again, alighting on every inch of your quivering skin and fuck, you were close. Oh, fuckfuckfuc--

“Cum. Cum for me. Fuck!”

Ren wildly snatched the cautery pen from where you left it on the bed stand, lit it, and plunged the glowing tines straight into the flesh of your thigh. White hot pain fractured your vision, locked every muscle down tight with a scream you couldn’t hear as your orgasm eviscerated you.

Breath stuttered back into your lungs in hazy, broken sobs. Euphoric pain was weeping from your nerves, flowing across your skin to rival the tears that now ran free and hot down your face while razorblades of pleasure still flayed your veins open. The ringing in your ears finally began to give way to low grunts breaking over the fragmented tide of your sobs.

“Good girl, g-ood, fuck-- shh... pretty fucking thing.” Ren’s deep murmurs faded into your eardrums, the words slurring and thickening through his teeth as he pried the tool from your sizzling flesh. He set it aside, pace unrelenting, and dragged a hand over your cheek. Sticky blood mixed with your tears as his fingers fastened into the flesh of your face. He watched your eyes come back into focus, his own glazed in primal rapture.

He propelled a few more slamming thrusts into the depths of you as the death throes of your orgasm withered on your skin. And then you were empty, gasping, and he was flipping you over so easily you didn’t know which way was up any more. Your breath was muffled by a pillow, and you turned your face just in time for a massive, dirty hand to come down on your cheekbone.

He crushed your face into the fabric, wrestling your hips upwards with his other forearm until your knees reluctantly shifted up to support them. You whimpered at the pressure on your skull and the throbbing pain that radiated from your thigh, but the sound deepened in your chest when you felt the blunt head of his cock graze along your swollen lips. Stars, you needed him to fill you in any way, your emptiness now entwining with your pain to send a cry of grief through your shuddering bones that could only be soothed by that voice, those hands, that perfectly thick cock in any part of you. Overcome, you moaned for it.

“Fuck,” he rasped, dragging his tip back and forth over your clit, adding skittering jolts to the ache that might as well be burning away your peritoneum like paper, causing your organs to pour out over the floor in gruesome mercy. He slid his hand back along the curve of your spine, releasing your face, and you gasped in the acrid taste of copper. His palms smothered your ass, fingers splaying wide and squeezing, pulling your cheeks up and apart for his view. It was filthy, the eroticism of it, but shame was a faraway song in the tempest of your need, barely heard as you clutched the sheets and arched in presentation for him. You heard a hissing intake of breath, which he let out in a slew of unintelligible filth as the fat head of his cock slowly split you again.

Even after just moments of vacancy you had to readjust to the size of him, but the stretch was utterly demulcent this time as he gradually sheathed himself in your aching walls until his head was grinding down against your cervix. Your eyes flew wide with a gasp as you clawed the sheet, streaking it redder, willing your body to relax around the merciless presence of his cock. He pumped his hips once, slowly, powerfully, and your eyes rolled back again as your muscles turned to warm jelly.

“Kylo…” You barely heard yourself moan out, and you had no idea whether he heard you either, as a loud groan suddenly kicked up his pace and the decibels of his rambling.

“Ffffuuck, feel sofuckinggood, so tight…. fucking perfect little cunt…”

You could die, you could actually fucking die from how it felt to lose yourself in this, how possessed you were by the repulsive freedom of it, of him, spitting filthy nothings into the thick air while you entwined yourselves in the dirty rut of shameless pleasure and pain.

You felt hot liquid trickle into the seam between your flesh and Ren’s with the next few smacks of his hips against your ass. His pace faltered, and he fell over you like a snarling carnivore, palms slamming down on the backs of your hands and pinning them beside your head. His breath tickled hot in your ear, and you shuddered, clenching around him.

“I’m going to make you cum again.” He snarled, before yanking you back sharply by your hair until you were nearly upright on your knees, your shoulder blades meeting the warmth of his chest. You caught a flash of blood-coated fingers as they reached around you and began to rub hot, wet circles over your clit.

“Like the filthy fucking whore you are. That I- fuck- knew you were.”

Your muscles gave out as he spoke, your body supported only by his overbearing strength, as euphoria wrapped your nerve endings in white flame. You were keening, though you could hardly hear yourself, as the pressure on your clit started to pull a second orgasm outward from your bones.

His hips pounded ruthlessly against your ass as he brutally fucked you, the force of it knocking air from your lungs with every impact. A glow began to erupt from your spine with the next few passes of his fingers over your clit, and then you were cumming, hard, sailing into an abyss of ecstasy that swallowed your sight. When you resurfaced he was roaring, his arm a vice around your ribs, his cock slamming deep and slow inside of your quaking walls and pulsing with his release. 

Ren collapsed on top of you, flattening you into the mattress. Dizziness swam through your blood, intensified by his weight crushing your lungs. He felt warm, sated, absolutely sublime as your spent hole fluttered around his cock, the sensation of his damp breaths on your shoulder easily overriding your need for oxygen. You were perfectly content to lay like this until you blacked out, if that’s what it would take to keep him there.

But then he was rolling off of you, a soft groan rumbling through his body as the cold air of the room kissed the sweat on your spine. It sobered you like an ice bath and you shifted away from him, suddenly feeling the weight of a needed distance between yourself and the Supreme Leader. You dropped your legs to the floor to stand, and pain ricocheted up your body from your thigh. You winced as your leg buckled in a blatant refusal to support your weight, catching yourself on the edge of the bed frame.

You instead sank back onto the small stool, and felt it become slick with cum as you grabbed wads of gauze from a drawer in the bed stand. Blood was gushing from his abdomen again, joining the sheen of bright red that mottled most of his skin as well as the sheets, and you began to work mechanically to staunch the flow once more. Kylo shifted onto his back and let you do it, his eyes falling shut as panting breaths oscillated through his chest. You were filthy, you registered, as you looked down at the red-brown crust of half dried blood that was smeared on your hands and all the way up your forearms.

You gently dabbed at his skin, slowly cleansing the mess and wrangling the bleeding back under your practiced control. The edges of your skin practically cried out in neglect, the dull pain that thrummed through your body begging to be soothed by even the smallest of tender touches that you didn’t dare ask for. The pain seemed to catch up to him as well now. He breathed through it, but you saw it lock up in his exhales, in the tense pull of his brow over his dark lashes. You let the pass of his skin under your palms soothe you both until his bare skin glowed clean and the bleeding was no more than a steady trickle.

Staring at his comparatively clean body under your blood-crusted hands, you suddenly felt disgustingly exposed in your nakedness. You stooped quickly to grab the leg of your pants where they lay on the floor, but Ren’s hand gripped your arm roughly, yanking your elbow back onto the stained mattress.

"Oh, pretty thing.” He growled. “We're not finished, yet."

[crispyjenkins]

dream clouds, ghost ground (real friends, dead hometown)

an accidental jangobi au 

that is now specially for @mandalorianbrainweasel | @ironhoshi | @obikakenobi | @mageofcole | @quitebizarre | @bureau-pinery | @atelier-dayz |  @legendaryjarcollection | @pretzel-log1c | @adiduck | @koyacyi-vode | @satan-incarnate-666 | @theclonewarsbrokeme | because i’ve genuinely loved and revelled in our conversations this past year, and am pretty sure(??) you all ship jangobi

( and also @batsutousai and @the-mandalorian-clone-lover but it won’t let me tag you :(

i uhhhhhh plotted this from my prompt roster without rereading the actual ask, so this is completely out of timeline for the anon’s prompt? and i didn’t realise until i was halfway through?? so here’s this??? i already have ideas for a sequel???? (and it’s 3157 words gl)

some context: there’s no age-out, but obi-wan is still sent to the agricorp and stays there. yarael poof inspects the facility 7 years later, and obi has visions of korda 6/galidraan and finagles themself onto the rescue mission of the true mandalorians. cue chaotic, still-has-the-impulsivity-that-got-them-kicked-out obi-wan. who is also nb just for funsies.

title from start//end by eden

  Obi-Wan Kenobi is not as Yarael had expected, but then, he had never met them while they lived in the Temple.

  The young Jedi breaks away from their group of friends on the other side of Bandomeer’s main greenhouse as soon as they catch sight of Yarael, the other novitiates trying and failing to hold Obi-Wan back from running through the dark green garden beds right up to him. They don’t seem to care that they’ve interrupted Master Fodvam’s tour of the facility, and ignores her to glare at Yarael with a fire in their eyes that he vaguely remembers as being the cause for their failing the initiate program. Stocky and toned with dark freckles on every bit of exposed skin from working the desert Enrichment Zones, Obi-Wan glares up at Yarael with a set to their lips so very like Master Yoda (and Qui-Gon Jinn, for that matter) that Yarael raises a placating hand to the Kubaz master at his side and smiles back down at Obi-Wan. 

  At first flush, he might have thought Obi-Wan approached him to beg to be allowed to return to the Temple and become a knight —it would not be the first time an old initiate had done so, though they usually attempted such an action much sooner after their reassignment— but instead, Obi-Wan wastes no time in demanding, “You have to go Korda 6, the lives of thousands depend on it.”

  “And why is that, young one?” Yarael returns calmly, though Obi-Wan must be pushing seventeen standard; everyone is young to him these days.

  Master Fodvam sighs, reaching out to put a hand on Obi-Wan’s arm, but they shake her off. “Obi-Wan,” she admonishes softly, for all the good that does.

  “There’s going to be a genocide,” Obi-Wan insists over the sound of their friends trying to call them back across the greenhouse, “Death Watch is going to kill the Mand’alor and slaughter the True Mandalorians, and no one here will listen to me.”

  Curious about their absolute certainty, Yarael gently pushes against their mind, but has to jerk away when the Jedi shoves him right back out, Yarael’s second brain fizzling like it had been shocked by a bad power coupling. Perhaps Master Yoda had been too hasty in handing this one over to the Council of Reassignment, when even though Yarael can sense their fear and hurt, their lingering doubt in the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan has not a single crack in their shields. Not a single doubt in themselves.

  Master Fodvam shakes her head, but it appears more out of a helplessness than disappointment. “Master Poof,” she says, “Novitiate Kenobi has spoken of this premonition for the last standard tenday, and I’m afraid none of the masters here are versed in the Unifying Force.”

  “At all,” they stress.

  Interesting indeed, that Master Yoda would nominate Obi-Wan for the Agricorp over the other branches, then, for surely they would have shown precognition as a crècheling. “Novitiate Kenobi, you clearly have complete faith in such a vision.” Yarael doesn’t try to enter their mind again, but does open his senses between them, benignly inviting Obi-Wan into his own instead. “Show me.”

  Obi-Wan is bewildered for all of a moment, eyebrows pinched, but then they blink in understanding and snap their eyes closed. A flurry of images is all but shoved into Yarael’s lower brain, a confusing mash of forests and armor and blasterfire, but, yes, there is Vizsla, and there is Mereel, and there is a Mandalorian in blue armor leaving Mereel to die on the battlefield.

  “How are you sure this is Korda 6?” Yarael asks, opening his eyes to Obi-Wan’s mentally-drained expression, tanned skin sallow under the freckles.

  “I’ve heard some of the mission report,” they say, and let Master Fodvam gently support them where they had pushed her away before; Yarael will certainly have to teach Obi-Wan to strengthen their mental stamina. “Every night for the last tenday I’ve seen this battle, I’ve seen ten different ways it could go, and all of them end with the True Mandalorians’ slaughter, unless we do something.”

  The Quermian looks Obi-Wan up and down once more, reaching as far into the Force as he can manage, and he doesn’t have a lifetime seat on the High Council for nothing.

  “Then we’ve not a moment to lose, do we?”

-

  If Obi-Wan is surprised Yarael insists on taking them to his ship to join him for his update to the Council, they don’t show it, and don’t appear nervous at all as the holocall connects. In fact, they stand off to the side with their arms behind their back and a serene expression on their face, right until Master Rancisis admits a contingent of Jedi had just left to help a planet deal with a violent insurgence of Mandalorian commandos, led by Jango Fett.

  And then Obi-Wan only blinks before turning his gaze up to Yarael. “Then we are too late for Korda 6. We must make for Galidraan.”

  The holo of Master Rancisis flickers as he winds and unwinds his appendages until he finally says, “We did not tell you the planet’s name.”

  On Rancisis’ left, Master Yoda taps his cane against the floor. “Clear it is, that truth in Novitiate Kenobi’s visions there is. To what extent, we do not know, but great pain I sense if act quickly we do not.”

  After meeting each of the other coucilmember’s eyes, Master Rancisis leans forward in his seat and points one undulating finger at Obi-Wan. ”You will go with Master Poof to Galidraan, Novitiate Kenobi; if you leave now, you may make it in time to prevent the Jedi from having a hand in this massacre.”

  Obi-Wan checks with Yarael first, their deference almost endearing as they look up at him for confirmation; Yarael cannot help a small smile, and if the Council has not guessed his intentions by now, then they are as blind as a naked womp-rat.  “Well, Novitiate Kenobi?” he prompts, “Are you prepared to see this through properly?”

  Obi-Wan drops their shoulders to raise their chin instead. “To be truthful, Master Poof, I would have been disappointed to be left behind.”

~

  Obi-Wan is already at the hatch of Master Poof’s cruiser when they finally land as close to the coordinates the Council had given them as they dare, and Obi-Wan sorely wishes they had asked Master Fodvam for a blaster before leaving Bandomeer. Nothing can be done for that now, and there is the more pressing matter that Master Poof had been unable to contact the Jedi already planetside, but perhaps they shouldn’t have expected the Force to make it easy on them.

  As soon as the cruiser is settled, Obi-Wan elbows the control panel for the landing hatch and drops right down into the snow; they’re not quite dressed for this weather, not coming straight from the desert Enrichment Zone, but they can hardly feel the cold over the cloying, suffocating fear that saturates the air until even the trees tremble with it. And they might be stronger in the Unifying Force than anyone else in the Agricorp, but Obi-Wan hasn’t been wrist-deep in soil for seven years to come out of it without feeling the Living Force just as strongly.

  Run, the trees tell them, and they do, pushing themself up onto more compact snow and taking off for the True Mandalorian camp. Master Poof calls after them, but they don’t slow until they reach the top of the nearest ridge, a sheer drop on the other side right into the camp, and Obi-Wan is forced to look out over their worst vision come to life.

    The Mandalorians stand as one facing the opening to the ravine on Obi-Wan’s right, where the Jedi spread out among the tents as Master Dooku reads them a list of false wrongs, and Obi-Wan knows the Mandalorians will not surrender. Mand’alor Mereel’s son stands before Dooku in newly-painted blue and red armor, raising his blaster as Dooku ignites his ’saber, and Master Poof halts abruptly at Obi-Wan’s side and lifts a four-fingered hand, but he won’t be able to Force-suggest anyone in beskar, and—

  And he has a lightsaber hanging from his belt.

  Obi-Wan had not failed their Jedi training, they were bright and talented and wanted absolutely nothing more than to become a Jedi Knight, but their temper had seen Bruck to the Halls of Healing, and their impulsivity had seen them to the Agricorp despite the potential they had shown in their seven years in the crèche.

  Their temper, they have control over that now, Obi-Wan is rarely even angry these days, but their impulsivity has been the, ah... cause for many of the Bandomeer masters’ grey hairs, so to speak.

  So Obi-Wan does not think before grabbing Master Poof’s ’saber, barely able to even lift the hilt almost as long as their arm, and leaps from the crumbling snowbank with as much Force behind their feet as they can muster. Sound snaps to silence in their ears, vision narrowing on the scant yard between Jango Fett and his death, as Obi-Wan yanks the Living Force around themself and hauls it up right from the ground, grabs it by the roots of the nearest tree until it sings.

  By a miracle of the Force, Obi-Wan lands perfectly between the new Mand’alor and the Jedi, igniting Master Poof’s unusually-yellow lightsaber just in time to deflect Jango’s first blaster bolt right into the ground — the ground that shakes and splits, exploding snow into the air to make way for the evergreen roots that surge through the cracks and grab Dooku’s entire arm, sending his ’saber flying. 

  Obi-Wan inhales once, twice, before allowing their other senses to flood back to them, and the Force sees fit to immediately make them aware of Master Poof stumbling down the bank after them with his upper hands raised in surrender. 

  “Peace, Jedi!” he shouts, successfully pulling the gaze of everyone in the ravine away from Dooku’s limb held aloft by mud-slick roots and to himself instead. “We have been misled,” he presses on, almost seeming to glide over the packed snow to stand at Obi-Wan’s back and place a palm between their shoulders, “These Mandalorians know nothing of what you speak, Master Dooku, we are both being played by the Governor of Galidraan.”

  Jango Fett growls over his external comms, close enough to make Obi-Wan shiver. “What the kriffing fuck is going on?” he snaps, not bothering to drop his blaster as Obi-Wan glances at him and can just see the shadow of his eyes behind his visor.

  “Death Watch had the governor call the Jedi here under false pretences, your grace,” Obi-Wan says, and doesn’t know what to make of the way the Mand’alor twitches at their voice. They can feel their shoulder weakening from hefting such a massive hilt, unwieldy even gripped at the balance point, but Obi-Wan refuses to let their arm shake, not with both sides holding them under such scrutiny; Maker, maybe they should have changed into Jedi robes instead of their dark tunics and kama? It gives them a silhouette neither wholly Mandalorian nor wholly Jedi, and certainly only adds to the confusion.

  Nothing to be done about it now.

  “The governor lied to the Mandalorians about their targets, to perfectly set them up for a Jedi arbitration,” Master Poof explains. “And of course knew that the Mandalorians would never surrender to the Jedi.” He looks slowly around at both parties, letting his words sink in until the Jedi are shutting their lightsabers off in disgust.

  The Mandalorians don’t put away their blasters, obviously, but they do lower them enough to be an act of good faith; only when Jango lowers his own does Obi-Wan power down Master Poof’s ’saber, and is all too happy to hand the weighty thing back to him with a shallow bow.

  Master Poof smiles in amusement, clipping the hilt back in its rightful place on his belt, before calmly nodding to Dooku. “Novitiate, you may release Master Dooku now.”

  Startled, Obi-Wan immediately calls on the Living Force to pull the roots away from the man and coax them back into the ground, hoping they hadn’t damaged anything enough for the evergreen just up the ridge to suffer. 

  Dooku massages his red wrist and eyes Obi-Wan carefully, the clouds of breath before his lips casting strange shadows over his face in the dying sunlight. “I was not aware the Agricorp was still teaching Consitor Sato to its novitiates. Nor so... successfully.”

  “... Master Fodvam would appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to the High Council.”

  “I am on the Council, Novitiate Kenobi,” Master Poof chortles, but turns back to the Mandalorians still effusing bewilderment before the new Mand’alor can decide they really are all better off dead. “Mand’alor Fett, I presume?”

  Jango shifts subtly, still close enough for Obi-Wan to watch his eyes dart to the Quermian. “For all of a week, jetii; how you are aware of this already does nothing to convince me to trust you. Any of you.”

  Master Poof just smiles serenely. “There is little one cannot gather from the Force upon first meeting, your grace. However, you are correct, and I would not be aware of Jaster Mereel's death if my companion had not told me of it.”

  Jango doesn't get the chance to ask him to clarify just what that means, the girl padawan at Dooku's side cutting in rudely, 

  “And Master Poof, just who is your companion?” as if she can’t tell from Obi-Wan’s attire that they were a Jedi Knight washout. 

  So maybe Obi-Wan doesn’t have complete mastery of their temper just yet, but they don’t get to snarl back before Master Poof answers cheerfully, "They are my new apprentice!"

  Oh. 

  “Master Poof...?”

  “I cannot very well leave a novitiate so strong in the Unifying Force untrained, can I?” Master Poof shakes his head. "As the matter stands, our duty to Galidraan is not yet complete: the governor has pulled both the Jedi and the Senate into his personal affairs, and has allied with a known terrorist group. Master Dooku, might I suggest we make to arrest the actual perpetrator of these crimes?”

  “Vizsla will be there,” Jango interrupts. “And he must know his plan has failed by now, you'll be walking right into a trap.”

  Obi-Wan raises a brow. “A trap meant for you, your grace. When we engage Governor Martinet, it would be unwise for the True Mandalorians to still be on planet.”

  “Why do you keep calling us that?" he snaps, the blue-armoured Mandalorian at his side grabbing his shoulder to hold him back from... striking Obi-Wan? From removing his helmet? Obi-Wan isn't sure. 

  They are sure that, if the Jedi succeed in apprehending Vizsla, the New Mandalorians will make themselves known much earlier. “One day, soon, you will need to make the distinction between yourselves, and those that will use ‘Mandalorian’ as a ploy for cultural reform, as claim to an identity that is not theirs,” Obi-Wan says, finding Jango’s eyes behind his visor once more. “The Children of the Watch will choose ‘True’ as that distinction of your people in retrospect, some fifty years from now.”

  The Mandalorian holding Jango’s shoulder tenses. “Are you some sort of prophet, kih’jetii?”

  “Hardly,” they smile, because the Force promises to back off a little after this mess is all said and done, whenever that may be. “But the Force decided I was the most likely candidate to make it here in time to stop a genocide, though I’m not sure if it knew how much information I actually needed. Irregardless, everything from today is now changed from any visions I had seen of it, I’m no more a prophet than you are.”

  Jango twitches again strangely, and his companion tightens their grip on their blaster. 

  “Novitiate Kenobi is right,” Poof interjects gently. “You should take your people to regroup and recover, your grace, you will be of no use to the galaxy dead.”

  “Wait,” Jango grits through clenched teeth. “It would... be unfair for us not to aid you in this, not when this was our disaster, too.”

  “There is no need for that,” Dooku says regally, Force-calling his ’saber back to his hand. “This has become a Senate matter, and to involve yourselves further would be an unnecessary risk.”

  “So you... want us to just leave?”

  Dooku raises a single eyebrow, expression blank otherwise, but Obi-Wan still shudders at the dark anger in the man, the rage that had hit its boiling point upon first meeting Jango and believing he had slaughtered almost two hundred innocent activists. The Force warns Obi-Wan about that darkness, the way Dooku has not yet released it; it also gives them hope, though, that the master can be pulled back into the light, with a little persuasion and lots of tea. 

  The conversation has moved on without them when Obi-Wan tries to focus back on the crisis at hand, Jango’s commandos already starting to pack up the camp while Dooku and Master Poof quietly discuss the Jedi’s next moves. Neither seem to have realised Obi-Wan hadn’t been paying attention, which is just fine by them: Master Fodvam is already at wit’s end trying to keep them focused on anything but plants, somedays. 

  A heavy gaze pulls their own to look up, across the camp to where Jango oversees his people’s retreat, but Obi-Wan knows the Mand’alor’s attention is on them alone. Obi-Wan gazes right back, refusing to the first to look away, and is somehow thrilled rather than disappointed when Jango does just that. 

  He does not say goodbye, but that’s alright, Obi-Wan knows they’ll be meeting again soon. 

~

  Following a stomping Jango up into Jaster’s old ship, Myles won’t stop laughing at him.

  “‘The one who will speak of the truth,’” he quotes gleefully, just as jovial in his punching of Jango’s sides as he attempts to unbuckle his helmet, and he doesn’t back down even when his Mand’alor growls at him. “Kriff, who knew that witch would end up being so literal?”

  “I told you I don’t believe in that osik,” Jango snaps, trying to shove his best friend off of him. “I don't believe in that old hag's ‘prophecy’ any more than I believe in Jedi competence.”

  “Ah ah, Jang’alor, you shouldn’t speak of your ba’buir like that, what would Jaster say?”

  Jango finally gets his helmet off and yanks his hood down so he can get right in Myles’ face to snarl, “That adiik is not the future of Mandalore, kriff whatever the fuck Jaster’s buir says! One dream and one crazy old enby witch spouting oracle nonsense does not make Obi-Wan Kenobi my destiny.”

  Jango doesn’t need to see Myles’ face to know it lights up in victory. “Nobody said their full name, Jang’alor.”

  “Finish that thought and I’ll throw you out the airlock.”

-

Mando’a:

Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore.

jetii — “Jedi” sing, pl. jetiise

kih'jetii — “Little Jedi”, highly offensive

osik — impolite form of “dung”, shit

ba'buir/e —  “grandparent/s”, gender neutral

adiik — a child aged from 3 to 13, used here as an insult

Cansitor Sato — Traditional High Galactic for “Plant Surge”, a Living Force-related technique of controlling plants (usually vines) to ensnare or slow an enemy; in legends, this was taught to Agricorp members as well, headcanoned here to be usually only taught to master/older members. 

Novitiate — personal headcanon for the form of address for non-master members of the Jedi Corps.

[meliorist-midoriya]

doki doki todoroki

synopsis: where todoroki’s first love blindsides him and he feels like the whole class is leaving him out of the loop. 

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff 

warnings: just todoroki being a clueless baby 

a/n: hello! aaaa this is entirely self-indulgent, but it’s my first post! i saw “doki doki todoroki” float around here somewhere and then this happened hjsdhjdhj. anyway, hope you enjoy!

He brushes it off the first time it happens, wrote it off as adrenaline from today’s sparring.

He brushes it off the second time. It was just a harmless scare after all, no shame in that.

He brushes it off the third time, the odd timing soon forgotten in favor of resuming his studies.

Todoroki doesn’t see the correlation for a while. How it was after seeing your exhilarated smile in the middle of a hard fight, after hearing you laugh once Mina startled him, after watching the triumphant smile on your face grow once he explained the problem to you.

He notices it the fourth, fifth, sixth time. Understandably, he’s confused. No amount of education or training would’ve prepared him for this. Nothing would’ve, other than hard-earned experience that he never got. Looking it up (as he found himself doing a lot these days the more he socialized) only earned him the definition of tachycardia and a grocery list of possible diagnoses ranging from anxiety to heart disease.

So much for the internet.

The ringing of the lunch bell pulled him out of his “research”, and he filed the thought away for later as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Later becomes three weeks.

Todoroki’s lost count at this point of how many times his heart suddenly went haywire, thudding against his ribs and sending blood rushing through his ears. How is world suddenly narrowed to just you whenever you spoke to him, and how he wanted to hear your voice again even though you had just stopped speaking. He finally drew the line once Midoriya pointed out his state of disarray at lunch.

“Todoroki-kun, are you sick? Your face is really red,” Midoriya had his chopsticks halfway to his mouth when he paused at the sight of Todoroki staring listlessly at his soba. Unbeknownst to him, Todoroki was too busy listening to you laugh at whatever Uraraka and Iida were talking about to focus on his soba. Hell, he couldn’t focus on anything lately and he had no idea why.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No. He doesn’t voice this, and instead lets his Quirk pull the heat away from his cheeks for him as the air chills around him. Midoriya keeps watching him like he doesn’t believe him, but returns to his own lunch anyway.

“Hey, Todoroki, pfft- you have to listen to this. Iida just-” You don’t wait for his answer. You don’t have to. Todoroki finds himself hanging on to your every word anyway, smiling to himself (oh, the tiniest smile compared to yours. He doesn’t think anything will compare) as you struggle to recount your conversation without dissolving into giggles, Iida admonishing you for your loud laughter with an embarrassed flush.

Whatever this feeling is, he doesn’t mind, but he would like to know. He doesn’t notice Uraraka and Midoriya curiously watching the exchange, food forgotten. Nor does he notice Mina giggling with Hagakure as they nudged each other over the seats, dragging any of the class they could into their little whisper circle. The bell rings, and he already wishes you could’ve continued the story.

Later, you promise. He holds you to that.

Kaminari slings an arm over his shoulders in the locker room as they change into their hero costumes for afternoon classes, with Sero on his other side, and he stumbles from both shock and the added weight on him, his boot half-dangling from his foot.

“So, Todoroki-kun~” Kaminari’s lilting tone floating in from his right immediately sends his guard up, and he stared at him warily.

“How’s spring feeling for ya?” Sero continued from his left.

“…Isn’t it autumn right now?” Why were they talking about spring in the middle of October? Todoroki was too busy staring at Sero like he’d grown a second head to notice the collective silent groan ripple through the locker room.

“Oh my god, he really is clueless,” Kaminari whispers, Sero nodding along with a dumbstruck expression. He side-eyes them as he tugs his boot on the rest of the way, unamused. Clueless about what?

“Will he be okay?” It was Sero who spoke this time, completely ignoring the fact that they were having a conversation right over his head.

“I don’t know, man, he should be, right?”

“I’m literally right here. Did something happen?”

“A-Ah, nothing, nothing, just… checking up on you, you know?” As socially inept as he was, even he could recognize from a mile away that Kaminari was a terrible liar.

“…Why?” Okay, now he was really confused. He looked around the room to see if anyone could give him any hints, to no avail. Kirishima was too busy facepalming to notice his confusion, Ojiro was suddenly very interested in tying off his gi, and both Tokoyami and Bakugou were completely ignoring their antics. In a last attempt to figure out what the hell was even going on, he turned to Midoriya… who was trying to desperately look anywhere else other than at him. Something was up, and if Kaminari was involved, he didn’t have a good feeling about it.

“Y-You know, uh…” Kaminari was floundering for an answer, and sighed in relief once Iida came in to announce that they had five minutes to be ready. The pressure disappeared off his shoulders and Todoroki finished putting on the rest of his costume, the deep sense of unease tugging at the corner of his mind. There was something he wasn’t picking up on, and it felt like everyone but him knew.

He brushed it off to focus on class. Today was sparring day, after all, and Todoroki was partnered up with you. Maybe he’d see that smile again. The thought of it made fire lick at his fingers during the spar much quicker than usual.

He wasn’t disappointed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears even as the adrenaline fizzled out.

Tomorrow morning finds him face-to-face with a grinning Mina and an overexcited Hagakure outside the classroom before class starts, along with the answers to his plight way sooner than he expected. They had called out to him and, before he knew it, he was cornered against the window with their too-wide smiles beaming up at him, hungry for the romance gossip they had been chasing after all year. Or, well, he was pretty sure Hagakure was smiling, at least. Mina, on the other hand, resembled the Cheshire Cat too closely for his liking.

“You like Y/N, don’t you, Todoroki-kun?”

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t?” To say he was confused was an understatement, but there’d been a lot of that lately so he just came to accept it. “Y/N is a good person with an impressive Quirk, so-”

“No, not like thaaat!” Mina wailed, and Todoroki blinked owlishly at the two girls as they both lamented the “densest pretty boy of UA”. Their words, not his. Did… did he say something wrong?

“Like what, then?”

“Ro-man-tic-al-ly!”

Todoroki bluescreened.

“Ro…man…?”

“Like, do you always end up looking at her whenever you’re in the same room?” Hagakure was practically vibrating from excitement, “Do you always want to listen to her or be near her? Or does your heart go ‘doki doki’ whenever you’re with her?!”

“Doki…doki?” Todoroki‘s brain, still rebooting from earlier, struggled to process the onslaught of information Hagakure was slamming him with. So far, however, all the answers he came up with were ‘Yes. Yes. A million times, yes’. “I… guess something’s been wrong with my heart lately? I looked it up and it said it was nothing to worry about, so-”

“Something’s not wrong, dummy! It’s love! And Y/N likes you back!” Mina exclaimed, and both her and Hagakure squealed as they celebrated finally having their first taste of high school romance, clasping hands and cheering.

“Doki doki Todoroki!” Hagakure cheered, Mina parroting her as they rode the high of their excitement. Meanwhile, Todoroki stared dumbly at the two girls in front of him, the dots slowly connecting in his mind. Everything was happening way too quick. And you liked him back? Wait, is that-

“Is that why Kaminari and Sero asked me how I was yesterday?”

“Ugh, that Kaminari~! He can’t even be subtle!” Todoroki could hear the pout in Hagakure’s voice, and Mina sighed and nodded in agreement. Well that answers that, at least. Now for the other million and one questions he had...

“So… what am I supposed to do now?”

“Confess!” Came Hagakure’s immediate response.

Well, that makes sense. Now that he has a grasp on what he’s feeling and he knows that you feel the same, it’s only logical that he should make them known.

“Okay, where is she?”

“In the classr-”

“Nuh-uh, hold it,” Mina stopped Todoroki from barging into the classroom, and he stared down at her, confusion mounting. Wasn’t she super excited just two seconds ago? What happened now?

“Minaaaa!” She ignored Hagakure’s impatient wail and poked him in the chest.

“You can’t just go in there and confess in the classroom in front of everybody!”

“…Why not?” He just had to tell you, so better sooner than later, right?

“Oh jeez, okay, um,” Mina pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to think of a way to explain this to easily the densest person she had the pleasure of knowing. And she knew Kaminari, for Christ’s sake, “It isn’t as romantic if you just go in there and blurt it out in front of everybody, and it puts her on the spot too, would you want that?”

No, you hated being put on the spot. He shook his head and Mina sighed in relief.

“Okay, so, what you’re gonna do is…”

“Did you need to talk to me about something, Todoroki?”

Ah, there it was again. Could you hear his heart beating out of his chest from where you stood?

Classes had ended for the day and Mina had instructed him to confess after school at a specific spot (much to Hagakure’s chagrin, but she eventually agreed that it would be more romantic this way. Not like he knew what romantic looked like.) So, here he was, veering off your usual course from the dorms to this spot Mina had pointed out to him. It was where the trees broke just enough so the sunset could peek through the leaves. As inexperienced in, well, everything as he was, Todoroki had to admit Mina knew what she was talking about.

“Todoroki?”

The words he was told to recite sailed out the window the moment the time came, the light of the sunset casting you in a warm glow and God this wasn’t fair-

“…I like you.”

Oh, shit. Did he say that? Okay, yeah, he did. Oops.

He almost regrets it, but then he sees your lips bloom with a smile and the world goes quiet.

“I like you too, Todoroki.”

You crushed him in a hug and Todoroki wrapped his arms around you, smiling as he felt your own heart racing against his. His heart beating a mile a minute didn’t sound too bad anymore.

As long as it beat for you.

[biotic-boshtet]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Sugar?

Kaidan steps through the door into the medbay, greeted by the smell of antiseptics and the doctor’s warm smile. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I’m having a bit of a problem with our dear Commander, she’s locked herself in her quarters with a migraine, and normally I wouldn’t fuss, but she’s been in there since yesterday, and when I stopped by to check up on her this afternoon, she wouldn’t open the door. As far as I can tell she hasn’t so much has poked her head out that door since she shut it. I did consider calling Jeff down to check on her, but I’d hate to bring him all the way here and have Shepard turn him away. You’re the one best equipped to handle the situation at hand.”

“And you said she’s been in there for 24 hours?” Kaidan knew the stress of the 2 weeks since Virmire was taking its toll on the Commander, and that she’s been working through a migraine, but he’d never seen her down for more than a few hours.

“A little longer than that, really, she stopped by yesterday around noon to tell me she was locking herself in there until the worst of it passed. I believe her exact words were ‘Once my brain stops trying to implode and ooze out of my amp jack’.” Dr. Chakwas grimaced at the description as she repeated it. “I offered her a dose of painkillers, but she waved it off and went on her way.”

“Yeah, ouch, I’ll see if I can’t convince her to at least eat something.”

“Thank you, and good luck.”

-

Thermos of coffee, water bottle, and hot leftovers in hand, Kaidan leans against the wall beside the door as he sends off a message to Shepard. Hopefully, she was awake. Knocking wouldn’t work, the chances of her hearing aids being on were slim. He’d noticed she had the habit of turning them off when things started to overwhelm her. Feels like they’ve been off more than on lately. He breathes a sigh of relief when the indicator light flashes from red to green, and the door hisses open. As the door shuts behind him, it’s clear that she’s turned off every light she possibly could. The emergency lighting along the floor is still on, though he’s sure she considered cracking into the electrical panel to deal with them.

Walking further into the dark room, he almost believes she isn’t there. Almost. He spots her curled up with a pillow over her head as he pulls a chair up to the side of the bed. Her field feels different without her amp in, softer around the edges, but it still vibrant enough to pop and fizzle against his own. As he sits down and sets the food and drinks on the end table, Shepard moves her pillow to squint at him. He tries not to let his eyes linger on her bare arms or the near meter of hair spread across the mattress.

“Doc told me it was a nasty one.” Kaidan signs, “So I came with coffee. Pretty sure it’s strong enough to give a Krogan heart palpitations, so it should help.”

She pulls herself up to sit against the headboard. She looked like hell. “Sugar?”

“Plenty, don’t worry.” He uncaps the thermos and passes it into her waiting hands. As she takes a sip, her eyes slide closed and Kaidan swears he’s never seen such a blissful look on her face. He lets her enjoy the coffee for a moment before catching her attention again. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got some leftovers too. If you don’t eat soon, I think Chakwas might break down your door and sit on you until you do. Or worse, drag you to the medbay.”

Shepard almost reluctantly sets the coffee down, reaching for the container as Kaidan snaps open the lid and sticks a fork in the steaming spaghetti. The second she takes a bite it’s like a switch flips and the second and third bites follow soon after. Half the container is gone before she pauses to take another drink of coffee and glances up at Kaidan. “I know this is just leftovers, but fuck, it tastes so good I could kiss you.”

Kaidan laughs as his cheeks redden, and he brings up his omnitool to check some emails while she finishes her food. He needs to distract himself from the fact that he wants her to kiss him. He makes sure to send one off to Chakwas, reassuring her that he’s gotten Shepard eating and at least caffeinated. He moves the bottle of water closer to the coffee, waving his hand next to it catch her attention and let her know its there.

“So. Ears are on now, by the way, don’t worry about signing. I had an idea, to boost morale. I can’t be the only person on this ship cracking under the stress, so I’m gonna see if I can’t work out some kind of sparring match in the cargo bay. Prizes and stuff, plus something extra for the first crewmate who can get me down on the mat.”

“Yeah? You sure anybody’ll go for it?” He spoke softly, the way she kept her eyes half closed told him the pain was still very much there.

“Oh, you know, I’ve overheard a conversation or two, some of the other marines are totally sure they can take me, just, without the biotics. Remember, some of these jarheads have never actually seen me in the field.”

“Yeah, or they’d never dream of going toe-to-toe with you. What’s your grand prize?”

“Probably some credits and a few pistol mods? I don’t know for sure yet.”

“I think it’s a great idea, help everybody loosen up a bit.” He checks the time; he drew the short straw for the watch in the CIC. “Alright, I’ve got my watch coming up soon, so I’ll get out of your hair. Go check in with Chakwas if you can brave the lights out there.”

“I’ll try.”

Kaidan makes it halfway to the door before he remembers the chocolate bar in his pocket. The good chocolate. Not impossible to get ahold of in space, but also not high on any Alliance requisition lists. He walks back to the bed, partially melted chocolate in hand.

“I forgot about this. A good bar of chocolate almost always helps a migraine.”

She looks reverently at the chocolate, hand outstretched, but not grabbing it. “Are you sure? This is definitely not on any of our supply lists.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a few more stashed away, don’t worry about it.” He presses the bar into her hand, closing her fingers around it. He’s halfway out the door when she speaks again.

“Kaidan? Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

-

Kaidan watches what has to be at least 2/3 of the crew milling around the cargo bay, navy and marines, humans and aliens, all chatting and joking around. He’d picked a good spot, back near a wall, next to Joker. Near the center of the bay, he hears a thud as the Commander puts another marine on the mat. She offered up a prize of 300 credits and a few choice pistol mods to the first person who could get her on the mat, no biotics, no tech, just good old fashioned hand-to-hand. At least Shepard’s got the decency to help them up off the mat after she kicks their asses. Still, even after half a dozen crewmates beat, there’s still plenty looking to try their luck at beating Commander Shepard. She doesn’t even look like she’s broken a sweat.

Kaidan fiddles with his omnitool, pretending he isn’t interested in the match. Another marine hits the mat, and his eyes flick up watch Shepard help Fredricks up onto his feet, and this time she looks right at him, a mischievous glint in intense brown eyes.

“You up for a challenge, Alenko?” Her voice carries clearly over the chatter and general noise of the cargo bay.

Kaidan knows he’s got the look of a deer caught in headlights but recovers gracefully enough. “Oh, no, Commander, I’m content just watching you take out every other marine on board.”

“What, are you scared you’ll beat your CO? Don’t worry, you won’t.”

Joker leans over, with a hand up to his mouth for an especially dramatic stage whisper. “You know if you walk away the crew will never let you live it down. Neither will Norah Jean. She’ll be bringing it up for at least the next 10 years. Believe me.”

Kaidan looks between Joker and Shepard, who’s still standing on the mat, hands on her hips and already looking like she’s won. Then he sighs and wades through the onlookers. Once in the ring he looks down at her. “You know, you’re a real pain in the ass, right?”

“I try.”

Kaidan makes his way to the table set up a few feet from the edge of the mat and makes a show of taking off his uniform shirt, then unplugging his amp, setting both on the table beside hers. Slowly they begin to circle each other.

“Think you can beat me?”

“Shepard, I have no illusions of how this is going to end. I watched you bring Fredricks down in 6 moves. He’s twice your size. My chances aren’t looking good here.” He throws a jab at her left side, testing her reflexes, and she blocks it easily.

They trade blows, trying to whittle each other down, and Adams is clearly about to call it in a draw when Kaidan lunges forward. Then the cargo bay blurs and his back slams onto the mat, knocking the wind right out of his lungs. Shepard is beaming above him. She offers a hand to help him haul himself up, and he moves for his discarded shirt and amp.

“Uh, yeah, Shepard, remind me not to get in your way.”

She pats his shoulder and gives him a thumbs up as she drinks her water.

[fanfic-me-up]

Yoga with Bakugou Katsuki

Your weekly competition with archrival and secret crush, Bakugou Katsuki, takes a turn when you invite him to yoga class. Maybe your hope to become something more is not so one-sided after all?

Title: Winning in Downward Dog

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader

Warnings: Bakugou trying to be a flexible pretzel and failing 😂😂

Word Count: 2,696

a/n: This is basically a crack fic pls forgive me lol If you enjoy, pls like and reblog! 💖 You can request more here. Side note: For anyone wondering, this was originally posted on my first bnha blog, but that has since been deleted. 

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

You’re currently pinned beneath Bakugou in the middle of a training exercise where you’re supposed to be on the SAME TEAM. 

“Yield,” Bakugou says.

“Never,” you say.

It’s known in Class 1-A that you and Bakugou have a weekly competition where each of you pick a different activity to see who wins. This competition sometimes gets in the way of school. Most of the time you understood the concept of forgoing pride for the sake of education, but when it came to Bakugou fucking Katsuki you became equally hot-headed and stubborn.

Class 1-A groans in unison. 

Midoriya raises his hand.

“Sensei, you’re going to erase their quirks, right?” He looks genuinely concerned.

“Ugh, I hope so! I don’t wanna be here all day. Again.” Mina complains.

You knee Bakugou, but he won’t budge. He smirks at your struggle.

“Tch. You have to do better than that, dumbass.”

He places more of his body weight so there’s no escape. You can’t help the flutter in your chest at the sudden closeness. He’s radiating pure heat and the faint aroma of caramel emanating off him does little to clear your head.

Yes. It’s true. You have a crush on the one person who’s more concerned with pinning you to the ground during a training exercise than pinning you down on his bed where you belong dammit!

“Can ya’ll wrap this up? Some of us have plans tonight!”

Of course Kaminari would interrupt your fantasy just when it gets to the good part.

“Chill, bro, the movie doesn’t start ‘til 7,” Kirishima says.

“Can I come?” Mineta asks.

“No.” The Bakusquad reply in unison.

You buck up against Bakugou. Your leg slips from his hold and you manage to wrap it around his waist, flipping him over. He grunts as his back hits the ground. You hear crackling, but before he can set off his quirk, you counterattack, leaving him with no opening.

Class 1-A  collectively gasps as you pull an UNO reverse card. Cheers erupt from the girls at the same time the boys groan.

The class has an ongoing bet on who would win your competition at the end of the semester. Bakugou is ahead by one, but you might even the score today.

“You get ‘em girl!” Mina shouts.

“Awww dude way to let the boys down!” Kaminari shakes his head.

“Shut up, shitty hair!” Bakugou shouts.

He glares at the rest of the class, daring them to utter another word. They don’t. A couple minutes pass of Bakugou trying every which way to get out of your hold and you countering every one of his moves with ease.

“I could do this all day,” you say.

“Me too,” Bakugou spits, sparks erupt from his palm.

“I can’t,” Aizawa says, erasing both of your quirks.

Class 1-A groans in unison once again.

“Ugh! But Sensei it was finally getting interesting!” Kaminari says.

Yeah, just like my fantasy was getting interesting until you interrupted it! Hmph!

“Guess nobody wins this time,” Kirishima shrugs.

“Technically I won,” you say.

You gasp as you feel the wind get knocked out of you and suddenly you’re looking up at vermilion eyes.

“No, I win.” Bakugou smirks.

You can’t bring yourself to be upset as his hands grip your wrists. You’d lose a million times over if it meant Bakugou touching you.

“Say it.” 

You cock your head, “Say what?” 

“Say ‘I win’.” 

“I win.”

Bakugou’s nose scrunches in frustration.

“That’s not what I- you know what I mean!”

Aizawa clears his throat. 

Both of you turn to see Class 1-A hanging onto your every word like they’re watching the final battle in Avengers: Infinity War. Kaminari is munching on some popcorn, passing the bowl around to the rest of the class.

How did that boy even…? Nevermind.

It’s best for you not to think about the weirdness that is Class 1-A. It would only give you a headache.

“Nobody wins. You both failed the exercise,” Aizawa says, “And get up. You’re both making me uncomfortable.” 

You and Bakugou make awkward eye contact before he gets off of you. You swear a tinge of red flushes his cheeks as he offers his hand for you to take, but you know he’s only offering it as a sign of respect. That doesn’t stop your hand from shaking as you reach out to take it. You mumble a quick ‘thanks’ and he responds with a soft ‘whatever’ as he helps you to your feet.

“Class dismissed,” Aizawa says. Mina and Kaminari whoop before racing to the dorms. Everyone else follows, leaving you and Bakugou trailing behind. You’re racking your brain trying to come up with something to say. You don’t want to let this opportunity of getting Bakugou alone go to waste. 

C’mon, Y/N think of something…  Oh! I can ask about the movie they’re watching tonight? No… he’ll think I wanna come along or something, which I do, but I don’t want him thinking I do! 

Oh lord have mercy on me.

You’re about to fuck it and pull a ridiculous comment about the weather out of your ass when Bakugou speaks up.

“I won.”

You raise an eyebrow. He’s still on that?

“I did.” 

“Why do you have such an obsession with winning?” There’s no malice in your tone. You just genuinely want to know.

“You wanna die!?” Bakugou puffs his chest, tiny sparks fizzling in his palms, ready to blast at any second.

You throw your hands up in surrender.

Please don’t kill me. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to strive to be the best. That’s why we’re all here. But we were on the same team today, Bakugou, and you still couldn’t handle the fact that I would be the one to lead our team to victory. Why?” 

You’re just as competitive as the next U-A student trying to go pro, but even you knew when to quit, especially if it jeopardizes the team or the mission. Your quirk was just a better fit for this particular exercise and Bakugou knew that.

“I don’t need to listen to this bullshit, especially from a fucking extra.” Bakugou stomps off.

“Wait! Bakugou!”

You stop him by touching his arm; he jerks at the contact as if he’s been burned. 

“Don’t touch me!”

You try to hide the hurt as you take your hand off his arm.

Of course he’d hate the idea of touching me in any way besides holding my hand to arm wrestle. Ugh! Why can’t I have a crush on literally anyone else!?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Whatever. What’s the challenge this week?” he grumbles, looking away from you.

You didn’t want to push any further and make Bakugou hate you even more. It’s sad to know you don’t have a chance with him which is why you look forward to these competitions. If this was the only way to spend time with him, then you’re gonna take it. 

“Yoga tomorrow at 8.”

“Tch. Yoga? My grandma does yoga on her deathbed.”

“If you don’t show up, guess it means you forfeit and I win.”

You walk away knowing full well Bakugou won’t back down from a challenge. You hear him shout from across the way.

“Like hell I’d forfeit, loser!”

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

You’re warming up before class when the doors swing open and in walks Bakugou with a permanent scowl etched on his face. The class regulars (who are all girls) huddle together whispering about the “hot new guy.” 

Bakugou unfolds his mat next to yours.

“Oi, Y/L/N.”

You turn to him, “Morning to you too, Bakugou.”

“Get ready to die,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. 

“Please, I’m sure I can beat someone who yells ‘DIE GERMS’ every time he brushes his teeth.”

Bakugou’s teeth clench at the dig against his personal hygiene habits. You could see the vein on his forehead threatening to pop. Teasing Bakugou always brought a smile to your face. He was just so cute when he got riled up.

“You wanna go, shitty woman!?” 

It’s too easy.

“Save that for the field,” you say before returning to your stretches, but you’re interrupted once again.

“Psst.”

You turn to the girl next to you.

“You know him?” She nods at Bakugou stretching with his earphones in. The scowl on his face reads “fuck off”.

“Yeah, why?”

“He’s hot.” The girl sighs in a daze.

I know, girl. Trust me, I know. 

Every aspect of Bakugou’s body screams power. He trains harder than most and it shows. The long grueling hours spent going to the gym and honing his quirk have really paid off. From defined shoulders, to the lines of his six pack visible even underneath his shirt, all the way down to the powerful thighs that could crush you in an instant and you would happily thank them for it.

“I can hear you,” Bakugou snaps. 

Shit.

Your heart skips a beat, afraid you pulled an Izuku with thinking out loud. Thankfully, he’s referring to the girl next to you who squeaks and returns to her stretches. 

Phew… That was a close one. 

You clear your throat.

“You better not get us kicked out of this class, too. I actually like yoga.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he smirks.

Bakugou got you both kicked out of the chess club when he went all ‘sparky sparky boom boom man’ on the chess board after you won. The president of the chess club cried. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Now, you both have to play chess in the dorms.

The class begins with simple stretches. You sneak a peek at Bakugou who looks oddly calm for once. You’re used to him either being angry or… being angry. There really was no in between for the boy. But right now, with his eyes closed, he looked almost at peace. 

“I can do this in my sleep.”

And of course the moment is ruined the moment he opens his mouth.

“This is only the beginning, my friend,” you say.

Bakugou loses some of his vigor halfway through. He’s huffing and puffing as you go into an intense hip flexor stretch.

“You okay there, buddy?”

You’re sweating a bit by this point, but not as much as Bakugou who’s struggling to keep up.

“I’m fine,” he snaps. 

The class goes into the splits. Your split is perfect, but Bakugou is still a little ways off the floor. He tries to subtly wipe the sweat beading down his forehead.

“You know yoga has a ton of amazing benefits. If you keep at it, you could knock someone out going into a downward dog.”

“Shut up,” he grunts. His knees buckle under the pressure of the new position.

“Y/N, can you assist our new student?” Your instructor asks.

The rest of the class turns to you and Bakugou. 

“Oi! I don’t need any help, old hag!”

You grimace at his loud tone, a harsh opposition to the otherwise calming atmosphere.

“He doesn’t really mean that,” you try to cover for him.

“Yes, I do! Oi! Stop looking at me dumbass, yes, you over there-”

You muffle his screaming with your hand against his mouth. You place your other hand on his waist and guide him into the correct position. You can tell he’s holding his breath.

“Breathe. That’s it. Now tighten your core like this,” you whisper in his ear. Your hands glide down his stomach. His ears are beet red and he’s looking anywhere, but at you.

“Are you okay?” 

“Tch. I’m fine. Now, get your hands off me, shitty woman.”

You sigh. Of course. Should I expect anything else at this point?

All the women bounce up to you at the end of class. They’re giggling and sneaking glances at Bakugou who’s rolling up his mat.

“Who is that?”

“Do you know him, Y/N?”

You’re taken aback. Since when were you on a first name basis with any of these girls? For the past three years you preferred to stay in the back of the class and leave once it ended. The women are a bit… much and they don’t pay much attention to you anyway, just the way you like it, so it’s startling when eager eyes are on you awaiting a response.

“Is he single?” Another girl asks.

I certainly hope so.

The group shushes each other as Bakugou walks up to you.

“Same time next week, loser?” 

Next week is his turn to choose the competition. Does he really think he has a chance of getting his splits down in a week?

“You want to do yoga again?” 

“Not for our competition, idiot.” The excitement radiating from the group of girls behind you only feeds your heart fluttering in your chest. You don’t want to get your hopes up, but Bakugou has never been interested in meeting up with you outside of class if it’s not for your competition. 

You want to be sure of what he’s asking. You couldn’t bear the thought of believing this is leading to something more only for Bakugou to say it’s not. 

“If not for our competition, then what for?” 

Bakugou looks at you, his cheeks are flushed red and you know it’s not from the yoga anymore. 

Holy shit, is this it? Is Bakugou fucking Katsuki actually asking me out? After we just spent the last hour in downward dog? Note to self: I’d like to give a shoutout to the yoga gods that made this possible. You the real ones.

You lean against the wall in an attempt to be casual, but it’s only because your legs are literally shaking from the excitement that Bakugou is asking you out. 

Bakugou glances at the girls behind you murmuring between themselves.

“Tch. Forget it.” He grabs his bag and walks out.

Wait. What? No! Come back!

You hear the girls gossiping with each other, all of them excited that Bakugou’s becoming a yoga regular.

“He’s coming back next week!?”

“Ugh! He’s so freaking hot! I can’t even!”

“What should I wear!?”

You don’t pay them any attention as you run out the door in an attempt to salvage... whatever you have with Bakugou. It’s complicated, okay!?

“Bakugou!” 

He doesn’t look back, but you know he heard you. 

“Bakugou! Wait!” 

“What!?” He snaps, but the blush on his cheeks give him away.

“I’m down for the same time next week.” 

He crosses his arms and scowls.

“Are you deaf? I said forget it.”

“Oh.” 

Bakugou sighs; his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in a gesture you’ve only seen a couple times from him.

Wait is Bakugou… nervous? 

“I know I’m gonna pop off on one of those girls and I don’t want to get you kicked out. I know you like yoga for whatever goddamn reason…” 

“What if we had a private yoga class?” 

You’re fully prepared to be rejected. Your relationship was one of rivalry and competition, what you’re suggesting would be breaking into new territory, but you were tired of pining. It was better to know he doesn’t like you than to spend your time at U.A. wondering. 

Bakugou doesn’t expect that question and you certainly don’t expect his response.

“I do need to practice my splits more.” He looks down at the ground, ashamed for admitting he needs practice. You can tell he doesn’t admit this to just anybody. Your heart skips a beat at the thought of Bakugou viewing you as more than just the extra he claims you are.

“I can help with that,” you say.

“Tch. I don’t need your help.”

You shrug, “Fine, don’t come crying to me when you break your hip. You’ll never be able to take someone down in downward dog.”

“I CAN TAKE ANYONE IN DOWNWARD DOG! JUST YOU WATCH, SHITTY WOMAN!” 

You laugh as he childishly stomps off, gripping his palms tight to keep from exploding.

Way too easy.

Bakugou ended up taking Midoriya down in downward dog. Nobody saw it coming, but you. He thanked you with a movie date and a kiss at the end of the night. 😊

[bonanana]

Agent North Dakota x reader

You weren't one of the badass Freelancers, you weren't one of the guards or soldiers, you were merely the technician. Close to the best technician, yes, but still. You seemed insignificant compared to the others.

You lay on the ground, late at night, in the Mother Of Invention. Humming along to the tune you'd gotten stuck in your head. Holding a screwdriver between your teeth as you were underneath the console in one of the training rooms. Fidgeting with the power switches.

You heard footsteps, but didn't think much of it. You knew that some of the freelancers were up at this hour. Despite the designated time they had for bed.

You didn't have that.

A spark makes you grunt, turning your head away from the source. Sighing when you smell smoke.

"Huh, that's going to keep me up for a good few more hours." You mumble and reach over to grab your electrical tape to hold the wires. Your other hand holding them in place, but one slipped from your fingers and slapped your face with a sting.

You yelp and drop the wires, sliding yourself out from under the console. Rubbing your face. The now red, burnt mark from the hot wire against your cheek.

Hunching your shoulders and sighing, you groan. "Well shit." Looking at your hands, you see they're covered in dark dust and oil smears. "And there's stuff on my face now, isn't there? Great."

"Yeah, need a wipe?" You hear a smooth, sweet voice ask.

But still you jumped. Looking up at the man.

His blue eyes were warm, fixed on you in a concerned and halfway endeared way. His lips curled into a soft smile. He was leaning over the console, his arms folded, laying on the edge of the surface.

"No, sir. I'm alright." You clear your throat, face heating up. "Sorry if I woke you."

"No no, you didn't wake me up." He laughs carelessly, shaking his head. "I walk around at this time most every night."

You wipe your hands on the dark, already dirtied, pants you wore. Cleaning them off. Chewing on the inside of your mouth as you broke the eye contact, you cast your eyes to the side. "Why's that?" You pipe up, but then backtrack, glancing back at him momentarily. "If, if I'm allow to ask that, that is."

Running a hand through his hair, the blond shrugged, rolling his shoulders. "Theta. He can't sleep most nights. So I walk him around."

Slowly everything fell into place, your mouth almost falling open at that.

"I haven't seen you around here before though, why are you up?" He counters. You were assuming he was doing it playfully, but the nervousness that still built in your gut was there nonetheless.

It wasn't surprising that he didn't know who you were. Or hadn't noticed you before. So you snort lightly at that. But you sure knew who he was.

This was Agent North Dakota. Twin to South Dakota. One of the best, in your opinion at least, freelancers out there. He'd recently gotten implanted with the AI Theta. You'd seen him fight in reels that they'd play for reviewing purposes. And after the first time, you'd purposely go and watch all of the ones that were up for accessing. Loving watching him and his twin, or his close friend Agent New York, move across the field. Kicking ass.

You'd slowly gained a crush on him, admittedly. His voice, soft and warm. His humor was refreshing. He was so nice to his teammates yet he could take charge when need be. You couldn't believe that this was the first time you were able to see his face.

He was so incredibly handsome. More so than you'd imagined.

And that only made you so much more nervous.

"Eh, I'm a technician." You gesture to what you were doing before. "If you can't tell. And I have a lot of angrily damaged equipment to fix before all of the freelancers get up to use and destroy it again." You smiled, rubbing the back of your neck. "So I'm up late often, as well."

North's brows crease, letting a sigh slip from his lips, "Most of the damage would be made by my sister, South. I'm sorry about that."

You wave him off. Shaking your head. "No need to apologise! You didn't do anything wrong."

He was about to respond when a small flash of purple light cut him off, a little armored figure caught your attention. You blinked a couple times when you realized that the little man was Theta.

"I've never seen an AI before." You whisper, mostly to yourself though.

Theta turned to look at North, sitting on the console's top; or, projecting, technically. "Who are they, North? Are they nice?"

"Yes, Theta. They're nice." North smiled at the small glowing boy. "Why don't you introduce yourself?"

Theta hesitated for a moment, but then he turned to face you. His small glowing figure trembling slightly. He held onto his small skateboard. "Hi. I'm Theta."

You pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, tilting your head with a smile. "Hi, Theta. I'm (Y/n). It's nice to meet you! You're very cute."

"Thank you!" He cheered. Looking back at North for a minute, but he didn't say anything. Just looked.

"Told you." The man laughed in response to no audible statement.

Theta began talking to you again, and you just listened and answered his questions. He'd ask about what you do, if you liked it, what that snack is in your box. Time flew by, but the little AI unit was so chipper. You couldn't help but thrive off of his good mood.

"Want to see a cool trick I can do?" He asked, sheepishness seeping into his voice.

"Of course, buddy." You nod in agreement, smiling.

Theta set his skateboard down, and it fizzled out with purple pixels as he crouched down then flung his body up. Arms thrown into the air as a clash of purple and pink fireworks popped above him. He cheered. Throwing more of the little explosions up into the air.

You clapped at his display, grinning at him. “That’s so pretty, Theta!”

He laughed, such a cute little giggle, and thanked you. He turned towards North, and they communicated silently. You didn’t necessarily feel excluded. You didn’t figure you had the right to feel excluded. Not when he and the unit are connected in the brain. You sit and zone out, examining him as you chew your lip. Thinking on how it might feel to have someone else in your head all the time. Another set of thoughts. Someone else accessing your memories freely.

That’s fucked up.

Theta fizzles out, disappearing into nothing. Catching your attention. You look up at North and meet his eyes. “Thanks for talking to Theta for so long.” He grins, his voice smooth as ever. The sweet look in his eyes never leaves. You wondered if he always managed to look so pleasant. 

“No problem.” You laugh and wave him off, smiling slightly and rubbing the back of your neck. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. It’s not like you had done anything important. “I enjoyed talking to the little guy.”

North waves at you as he walks out of the room slowly, resting by the doorframe. “Well, he and I enjoyed it very much as well. Maybe I’ll run into you again sometime soon, when I can talk to you. Not just Theta.”

He held this promising smile. One you recognized as one that indicated he was going to make this maybe a when. You smiled back and waved. Too flustered to respond.

“Theta says bye, by the way.”

[weirdponytail]

Modern Inheritance: Yellow Gerbera (Pt 4 of Torin’s Story)

(A/N: I originally planned for this to be the start of a single ‘chapter’ but to hit all the points I wanted to will likely cover at least one other part, maybe a third. We get to meet a new friend! And Torin gets clean and has a chat and just multiple things happen and I’m already halfway through but all together it’s almost 4k words so far. So just take this short starting bit for now. Cheers!)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // PART 4 // TBC

“Enough.” 

Torin snapped his gaze back up to the Elven Queen as she stood. He had nearly forgotten she was there, speaking aloud his memories as the world faded around him. Through the corner of his eye he could see that the patch of light that wandered the floor of his cell had shifted considerably. The pale golden pinks of approaching dusk barely kissed the ground. 

Queen Islanzadí drew herself up before him, expression unreadable. “Enough. I must meet my war council.” A tension that Torin had been unaware of building suddenly released, and he slumped slightly. So she wasn’t stopping to kill him. That was a good sign. He stood slowly, joints sore, and stepped back further into his cell before pausing.

Unsure if it was the right thing to do, Torin awkwardly shuffled his feet and bowed low. “Y-yes, ma’am.” When he straightened the elf was regarding him with what he thought could be the barest hint of amusement, as well as some mild thoughtfulness. 

“One of my people will come to you shortly.” The door to Torin’s cell clicked shut, guided by silent magic. The display made him shiver again. “I cannot confirm your account until tomorrow at the earliest, and cannot trust you to roam free. However, that does not mean that you will remain here in your own filth. You will bathe and be provided with new clothing before we next meet. 

“If you cause any disturbance or attempt to flee, you will be killed without hesitation. Am I clear?”

Torin heard himself speak in affirmation, but his mind was reeling as the Queen departed down the ward’s hall. 

Confirmation. So some of the men from the High Security Ward had survived the battle. He wondered if they would be truthful when asked about their former comrade, and the consequences for both if they were not. 

Suddenly lightheaded, Torin stumbled to his cot and collapsed on to it. His face pressed against the cool cinderblock, providing some anchor to the world. Every nerve tingled with static, fizzling anxiety and long forgotten hope all clamoring for the top spot in his consciousness. The dulled realization that he had forgotten to ask if the elf he had met back then was alive drifted through his mind with a pang of guilt before it too faded. 

It took til the sun had set and the moon had risen to peer over the rim of the world for Torin’s overstimulated brain to wrestle the revelations and relivings of the day down. He shifted in his cot and sat up, back to the wall, as he laid out the processed information in simplified pieces.

The elves were fully in control of Gil’ead, not the Empire. The Elven Queen, Islanzadí, had visited him at his cell. She was interested in the fire-eyed elf that had been imprisoned here, and in Torin’s interactions with her. The Queen would come speak to him again, probably tomorrow, and another elf was going to come and take Torin somewhere to bathe and give him a new prison uniform. 

The last pieces to the day’s puzzle lingered in the young man’s mind as he tucked the rest of the information away. 

Torin was not exactly a prisoner anymore, but was not free either. Not only that, but the question that had stayed with him since his arrest may yet be answered.

What happened to the elf after her escape from Gil’ead?

A knock against the cell door roused Torin from his thoughts. He stood, a bit more than surprised that anyone would be so kind as to knock, and warily approached the barred window. “Y-yes?” His throat was dry from his earlier marathon of speech. 

An elven woman was outside, peering into the cell with the same curiosity Torin once held as he looked in on the imprisoned elf all that time ago. “Stars watch over you, Torin Aldsson. I am Naela, of House Varan.” Her voice was the pitch and tone of a shallow river gliding over rounded stones, a smooth, rich alto with hints of lilting tones and rolling ripples.  

“It is nice to meet you, Naela.” 

The young man could not help but feel a small sense of relief as his gaze caught on the woman’s hazel eyes. It was clear, through them, that Naela carried the same power as the other elves Torin had encountered. But there was something different about the way she held it, almost cupped in her hands. There was a softness, almost gentle touch at the edges. 

Her eyes were...warm. Like laying in the beams of light that graced the ground on a chill day. Whereas the imprisoned elf’s eyes blazed with an undying fire of ferocity and determination, and Queen Islanzadí’s were the sharp, crisp chill of a winters day, Naela’s eyes were the warm sun of approaching autumn, the last vestiges of warmth and comfort at the edge of the cold seasons ahead.  

Torin wondered. If the elf from before were safe, with friends, away from this awful place and free from pain...would her eyes look the same? 

With a murmured word and a gentle tug, Naela unlocked and opened the door. “The Queen has assigned me to be your guard.” She stepped aside, offering a clear path into the hall. “If you would follow me, please.”

Torin went to fall in, but stopped at the threshold of his cell. It felt as though iron shackles had snapped around his ankles, pulling tight as he tried to step over the invisible line separating him from the world outside the four little walls. A wave of panic washed through him, ice cold to the point that it made his lungs seize. 

What if there were spells set on his cell? What if he couldn’t leave? The world seemed to tremble at the edges, and for an instant he felt his foot moving back, away from the door back to the relative safety of his cell–

Gentle hands on his forearms snapped the world back to an anchored clarity. Naela was in front of him, concern tipping her sharp brows inwards. “You are safe, Aldsson.” 

Torin could not stop his shaking. He wanted to believe her, he really did. But how could she know? He had only left his cell with another guard before. What if there were things set in the stones to kill him if he left? Or what if the burns on the imprisoned elf’s feet were a result of an escape attempt? What if–

Naela was speaking, then. But the words were...different. They were not in common tongue, yet deep in the marrow of his bones, the very cells of his nerves, Torin somehow...understood. He did not know what she had said but in that moment he understood her meaning, that there was absolute truth in her words. 

“Listen to my voice, Alddson. You are safe. Nothing will harm you here.” 

The trembling eased to a manageable level. 

“Would you like me to help you?” Torin nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Following the pressure that the elf exerted on his arms, unable to resist her guiding strength, the young man took his first steps out of his cell in months.

The hall was the same as it always was. But in that moment, as Torin breathed deeply and tried to get his hammering heart under control, the air felt crisp and clear. The lights felt bright, almost too much so. Beneath his bare feet, the cool concrete felt polished and mirror smooth. 

It felt...good. And at the same time, everything almost overwhelmed him. 

“Are you back with us, Aldsson?” The young man focused back in on the elf that still held his arms. Her concern was evident through the tilt of her head and tightening around her eyes. 

A pang of guilt and shame washed through him. This woman had come to let him out of a dank and filthy prison cell, and instead of thanking her and doing the only sane thing and walking out, he had to have her physically drag him through the door like a nervous cat from under a bed. 

“Yes.” Torin instinctively flexed his fingers, that telltale itch and tingle forming in his muscles that was only pacified through worrying at his knuckles. “I’m s-sorry. I don’t– I didn’t–”

“Do not be sorry for this.” Naela’s voice was firm, and the combination of that and the soothing pressure as she squeezed his forearms drew Torin’s eyes back to hers. “You are feeling things that are natural for some after such isolation.” She suddenly smiled at him, bright and reassuring. “If it will make this easier for you, I can keep contact with you as we walk. Would you prefer to remain indoors? There is a path that does not lead outside if you are not yet ready.”

A soft blanket of solace settled over Torin’s shoulders. He gave Naela a shaky smile, and nodded. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

With a reassuring pat to his arm, the elf shifted to a position slightly behind his right and settled a hand on his shoulder. Together, the elf and the freed man moved to the stairs.

~~~

Despite Naela’s gentle presence, Torin felt a twinge of unease in his stomach as they passed the door that led to the High Risk Ward’s open-floor showers. Another turn saw the two pass the ward common room and finally stop at the small barracks, where Naela held the door for her charge to enter and beckoned him to the door at the back.

Torin followed obediently, eyes darting to take in the state of his former bunk. Second on the right, lower berth. Like all the other beds it had been stripped, the mattress removed and placed elsewhere. The footlockers were pulled from their places beneath the bunks and sat lined up in front of the empty frames, all cleared of their contents.

With a jolt of sudden homesickness he had not felt since childhood, Torin remembered that the last picture of his family was in his locker when he was arrested. I hope they didn’t throw it away. Maybe I can ask Naela if there were any prisoner effects left in lockup. 

“This is to be your room for the time being.” Naela pressed her hand to the door at the end of the barracks, unlocking it with another spell. 

Torin blinked. “This is the commander’s room though....” He followed his guard inside, taking in the space. He had only been inside twice before, and had spent most of the time staring at a particular cracked cinderblock in the wall as the commander berated him for whatever he had done. 

The space was well over half again the size of his cell, but was still quite small. There was only room for a soldiers bed along the far wall, a writing desk beside the door, and a small dresser to the right. At the end of the bed was another door, revealing a tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink and shower. 

Naela clasped her hands behind her back, hiding a small grin. “The Queen thought this would be the most convenient accommodation until she could investigate your claims.” She gestured towards the dresser and then the shadowed washroom when Torin turned at her voice. “There are several sets of clothes of various sizes for you to find your proper fit once you have washed.”  

For a moment, Torin couldn’t speak through the sudden lump in his throat. He turned back to survey the room and hide the watering of his eyes from the elf, warmth blooming in his chest. 

This was the kindness those of his own race had abandoned. The simple right to basic living conditions, to proper hygiene, space to move more than two paces and enough light to see and not feel oppressed by constant gloom. To be suddenly provided with it all, even when he could not leave and was still technically a prisoner…. 

...So the Queen is not as cold as she puts off. At least, not entirely. 

Torin wiped his eyes and breathed deeply before facing Naela again. “Thank you.” Feeling mere words not sincere enough to convey the wealth of emotions now inside him, Torin bowed.

Naela laughed and took the young man by the shoulders to right him. “You don’t need to bow to me, Aldsson!” 

The sound of laughter, after so long, made Torin smile. “Are there any restrictions that I should follow while here?” 

“Ah. Unfortunately, the washroom door must remain open, but I will turn my back when privacy is needed.” Torin nodded. The decreased privacy was not something he was unfamiliar with. He was living, and often showering, with twelve other men before his arrest. And it was not like the cell he was in previously was the most private of places. “If you find yourself needing anything, do not hesitate to ask. I will remain at the door.”

Still smiling, Torin nodded. It took a locking of his muscles to prevent it from turning into a bow again. With another word of thanks, he hurried to the first shower available to him in months, elation bubbling in his chest.