#no little extra gripes with it that could ruin it. i just like the thing as it is. love it even. it's exactly as it should be

[seaofreverie]

You ever finish a drawing that you really like and then you spend the next three days randomly looking at it for minutes at a time like that could make it possible for you to absorb its alluring and magnetic essence with your eyes

[fandomsoda]

Obligatory SB Ruin first-impressions opinion piece

On its face, I do not like Ruin. It is not satisfying at all and simply opens up more questions in a very, VERY annoying way. And the few character moments I do adore about it are underutilized and short-lived. And that pisses me the HELL off.

Roxy and Cassie’s past and connection feel like an afterthought. It feels like it’s there to bait us, honestly. Like nothing came out of that other than an out-of-nowhere gutwrench scene that feels so cheap in hindsight. And Eclipse, god Eclipse (or as I call them when I don’t want to get canon vs fanon confused- Ruinclipse). Eclipse is great. I adore them, just like everyone else does. But there is not enough of them, not even close. In fact, I would rather have not gotten them at all because how DARE Steelwool make a character they KNEW would be fucking BELOVED and only give them like 3 lines of dialogue? And they’re great. Their voice in particular is fucking incredible. Kellen Goff KNOWS what he’s doing with character voices. But there was like none of them. And that angers me for OBVIOUS FUCKING REASONS.

My biggest gripe with Ruin is that it has things that are really fucking good, but there isn’t ENOUGH.

And don’t even get me started on how the whole mimic thing came out of nowhere and just brings up more questions and complicates things EVEN MORE. And now I am desperately digging for an un-before-discovered ending in feeble hope for SOMETHING, ANYTHING, that even vaguely SEEMS like closure or an actual fucking ENDING.

We have no background for anything, btw. We don’t know how Cassie knows Gregory, we don’t know where she came from, we know NOTHING about her.

This dlc sacrificed half-decent storytelling in favor of scares and gameplay and that is the exact opposite of what it should have tried to do. I consider Ruin a massive fucking step down from Security Breach as someone who loves Security Breach despite its flaws.

Ruin was not exactly boring like most critics I’ve seen claim, but rather the moments of excitement and good HAVE NO PAYOFF.

As it stands right now, I would honestly rather Ruin not have happened.

I will still post about it, and join in fandom hype, but not because of what it is. But rather what I know it could be. I say all of these things out of love. Because I love FNAF and I love SB and I love the direction it took, but god I hate how they have done nothing to enrich it with Ruin. This dlc honestly feels like a big waste of time. They focused on pleasing the gameplay-obsessed haters who wouldn’t have appreciated the dlc no matter what happened and completely forgot what was actually good about the initial game. And that deeply saddens me. I hope things get better. I hope whatever we uncover later gives closure, I hope there are things in the future, but as of right now this was a massive disappointment.

And honestly the bar of my expectations was barely an inch from the ground relative to the base game.

Edit: wow I sound angrier here than I thought I did when it was initially made. I promise I mean all of this in a “it’s so close to being great and I’m frustrated at how far it fell” way and this is not just me screaming “it didn’t meet a quota for the amount of things I like in it”. The lore problems are the biggest issue here (even though FNAF lore was already fucked but it’s never fun to see it get further mangled) it just specifically is extra aggravating how little of the exciting character moments we got if that makes sense.

[lanatusnebula]

I Want To Like Aeolus

I'm going to type "Helios" because I played a fan translated version of the game so I could avoid the eng voice actors. (I refuse to buy anything else Capcom releases related to Megaman because I physically own most of this stuff anyway LOL)

So, so good points about Helios;

he has a cool head on his shoulders (deisgn-wise)

he had model H (my favorite MMZ character is Harpuia and ZX I love Model H big)

I like his face and hair! It's super silly but the more I look at it, the more he reminds me of SOMEONE I can't actually put my finger on. It's funny. And he has... one earring? Hanging off the ear mechanic things? Not sure what to call them... audio enhancement device? Vestibular Enhancement Piece? I wish they got some nerd to official label the reploid/cyborg body parts...

He's pretty neat in that regard, haha!

Model H is super fun in ZX! I enjoyed it in ZX. In ZX it is my favorite! So good on him that he's a biomatch for pocket Harpuia.

--

From here downward i will slander Helios's name and everything he will ever stand for.

nb4, "dude if you dont like him, then ignore his existence like you do with everything else you dont like" bro you dont understand this is a struggle i must endure for the sake of my own completeness (self-torture)

This whole this is biased and abandoned by reason, but I will put on a brave face and embarass myself anyway...! ò 0 ó

Points to touch on;

his design

his writing

his personality

biomatching with Model H

background

moveset

Design

I hate his design so freakin much. He has a sleeveless vest (ok), the weird skin-tight extra padding (sure) a skirt attached to ABSOLUTELY NOTHING (ok) and PANTS (dress pants). Each of these things on a character in the Z series would be like "eh whatever". But looking at how everyone else dresses, I always wondered "what happened HERE???". I'm hoping that it was a mistranslation of the concept art to the official marketed stuff, and they added volume to the skirt when it was supposed to be attached to the torso piece. I just can't mentally comprehend his layers otherwise? Like I'm picturing he and Ciel had the same thing going on, except he has dress pants instead of tights.

I'm more than aware that fashion in the Z/ZX series is a bit unhinged and abnormal. That it might even be lore related or somehow touched on by the fact that every human is a cyborg. Maybe he's a reploid and we can't see it? I'm holding onto the hope that Atlas and Helios are reploids who hide this fact. (Unlikely)

His Writing

Because I am an ugly Harpuia fan, I was expecting more than the game actually gave. This section is my personal gripes that have no real basis for complaints. They are, as a whole, completely unnecessary and ignorable.

Siarnaq has a backstory that is briefly mentioned in his little disk thing. Okay!

Thetis has some sort of motivation that hints that something else could be there, but doesn't have a backstory in in the disk thing. Okay!

Atlas has a backstory that is briefly mentioned in her little disk thing. Okay! (she has been ruined by the fanart in select places and thus she does not exist to me LOL - same with Ashe tbh)

Helios has... a shallower motivation than even Thetis *and* lacks a backstory. I mean, sure I guess? I am biased towards Thetis because I figured for a reploid to have that much of an interest in oceans - something *happened*. It isn't even suggested that anything did happen, it's just... a good set up for me to fart out fandom crap. But Helios... I... man.

Man.

"Everything is imperfect and full of foolish fools I will kill everyone." His personality is so god damn bland. Harpuia was the highlighted guardian for most of the MMZ games and I ended up really enjoying how he evolved and how he struggled in the drama CDs. There was a lot to work with! Part of me thinks, "yes well Fefnir had jack shit going for him and you'd die for him". I DIG HIS DESIGN A REALLY LOT. But THIS GUY I simply struggle with! I want to like him because bootleg model H biomatch but I got nothing to workmwith! And that frustrates me. :(

Bland personality (I like Death the Kid ffs), shit motivation, no background - I know this is grounds for "blank slate, do what you want" but I just don't operate like that for this guy specifically.

His Personality

This section is biased.

Helios's personality doesn't really go beyond "I am a pretentious snob." He has... four lines? Maybe? I can recall four instances of dialogue off the top of my head.

"I don't have time for this lol"

"Fuck you, you imperfect crackhead" (I played as Grey).

"Fuck everyone on this planet for being imperfect."

"Self sacrifice is beautiful for friendship."

Maybe I can work with these? They are not obviously direct quotes, and are obviously played up for the hahateehee, but... I dunno man. It Should be enough to work with but I can't get into mindset of doing something with it.

Biomatching With Model H

This one is a little tricky. I assumed the biometals were either broken, muted somehow, or ditched by whatever personalities lived within them. Model Z kinda suggests to me that it IS the original inside of the biometal, but it's pure speculation based on a few lines.

I understandnthe relations some of the MegaMen have with their biometles, right

Atlas is powerhungry, which can loosely be connected to Fefnir in a very idiot way

Thetis has a "childlike innocence with attached cruelty" that we can poke ourselves in the eyes and say Leviathan had. Also ice water go brr

Siarnaq is a freaky little somethin ninja who is the complete opposite of what we assume Phantom is like based on the extremely limited dialogue he gives us. (but is substantially more to work with than what Helios gives us)

For Helios, we have to accept the "pompous homogeneous ruler mentality" as Harpuia's link. Which I don't get. What is the point of the entire Z series then? Aren't we supposed to look at Harpuia's growth and go "oh he actually is dedicated to his cause but was stuck in some muddy circumstances"? He had pride, absolutely (thinking about his post-repairs in Z3) but it's such a small part of who I thought he was personally? Granted, I did not write the game. I have no say in this; pride could have been his very essence. I just thought it was... justice.

We can say Helios is very much connected to justice - that he feels there is a sense of justice in nuking the flawed beings off this planet. (which is somewhat skewed by the fact that humans get bot'd after a while - what age? 13??? - and are basically cyborgs or robots themselves. So in a sense, they're already leaving behind their imperfect bodies) But... the super secret ending - the fact that he is present AT ALL makes no sense. If the goal is to put an emphasis on human bodies in the future, then... why is Helios present for this? Humans are the epitome of imperfection - we know this. It's blatant. It's why they do these mechanical enhancements to begin with.

Helios can't even commit to a cause right? I know all the MegaMen are exceedingly braindead and that's cool. But at least the others COMMIT to it. Thetis doesn't go "I'm gonna eliminate an entire race for the ocean" and then piss in the sea. Atlas doesn't go "Power is everything." and then break down crying and throwing away her biometal to embrace her weakness. Siarnaq doesnt go "HYPERFOCUSING ON TASK AT HAND" and then hold hands with everyone at the amusement park with a smile. THEY COMMIT.

Helios is stupid. He doesn't commit. Not if that is the truest ending leading up to this ZXC they planned.

His Background

Helios has no background. Okay. That is fine. Thetis doesn't have one either. Two focusing on the present and two focusing on the past.

But what could his background have been? Aristocrat? Poor? Feral child? Living in squalor? No parents? Abusive parents? Was he training to be one of the Sage Trinity? Albert came out of nowhere right? Maybe anyone qualifies - clearly they don't do background checks on anyone.

Maybe he was a sword enthusiast? Maybe the sword plays a part in this? Maybe he idolizes Thomas and felt his methods weren't extreme enough? I feel like the sword is very important to him as a character.

But why didn't they elaborate? They spent so much time making the Floating Islands a Shit Stage and Ouroboros absolutely mind breaking they didn't think to go "maybe we should add a line about his sword that he never actually uses." Are the writers andnstage designers different people? I don't actually know. Might be in the credits. Sure doesn't feel like it in ZXA.

His Moveset

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

why is model zx's reach so short

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[royalrazz37]

Disclaimer: I love this film. These are just my critics. I know someone else has already pointed these issues out and better than I ever could. Just wanted to get my thoughts out. Feel free to link their analysis

Post Disclaimer Disclaimer: A lot of these may be petty and have no real solution so I apologize preemptively.

Without further ado here is an aging millennial’s concerns with: The Lion King (1994)

Small nitpicks first

Incest

Usually lion prides have a single adult male that mates with all the females but in this case there are two, Mufasa and Scar, meaning, that at best Simba and Nala are first cousins and at worst siblings, getting married and having children.

On the flip side there is nothing more royal than keeping it all in the family.

Say his name

What is Scar’s real name? I know it can probably be found somewhere but i think it’s pretty messed up it’s never said in the movie. Also making someone’s physical feature their name is rude. Its like calling someone Hairy, Big Nose, or Six-Fingered Man.

Sexiest Lion

From what I remember learning about lions, the males with darker manes are seen as more attractive. So why is my man Scar not getting hole? I know its a kids movie but could we at least see a couple dark furred cubs running about? (I know about Kovu)

Choice of voice actors

Why are all the good characters voiced by white people? (Exceptions for James and Madge) and all the bad guys are POC? And its some extra ish when only the lackeys are POC. The big bad is white. Colored folk can’t even be their own boss.

And i know the remake “fixed” this but we’re not talking about the new woke Disney.

Now the real gripes

Monarchy and leadership

While the idea of a hereditary monarchy is bad enough the main plot strongly implies divine right is just and desirable.

Mufasa is supposed to be king and this is reflected by the kingdom being pristine and in balance.

Scar, who is not ordained by the sky daddies, takes the throne and all falls to ruin.

Then the “rightful king” returns, restoring prosperity to the land.

It gives credence to the idea that a higher power has to approve of a leader for things to go right. That those in power are there because that is how it’s supposed to be.

Look, little one. See what happens when you try to break the status quo? Bad things happen. Be happy with your lot in life.

If you try to rise above your station like Scar, well. You saw what happened. (I know Scar murdered fools but you get my drift)

“But Razz” I hear you say. “The reason things went bad is because Scar had the hyenas live in the pride lands and they ate everything. Those slobbering mangy stupid poachers!”

Aha! I say. You activated my trap card.

US History as a Metaphor

I think its safe to say that the hyenas are coded as POC. As such the idea of their integration into the pride lands being the catalyst for its blight is troubling.

It harkens back to the fear of the negro moving into cities during white flight. Hyenas/blacks move in and everything goes to shit.

Thats why we keep them in their elephant graveyards and shadow lands (the ghettos) so the blight doesn’t spread.

And if one of the hyenas do come into the pride lands we send our strong alpha Mufasa to beat and brutalize them.

Also the hyenas are painted as gluttons for wanting to eat. THEY WERE IN A LITERAL GRAVEYARD.

Of course they’re hungry. Of course they’d want to eat everything they could. They were forced to live that way.

Now lets draw a line.

Hyenas are always hungry because they live in a food desert and actual desert.

They live there because of enforced segregation by the lions.

Lions who then blame the the hyenas for being hungry and use that as justification to continue segregation and harsh policing of the hyenas movements.

Sounds familiar.

And the film’s solution to all this is a return to the status quo. Yuck.

Not to mention the sequel where there’s a reconciliation between the lionesses who supported Scar and the pridelanders because Kiara says “We’re the same”. I know I’m probably grasping a straws here but that moment felt like the Irish and Italians gaining whiteness.

Ok rant over.

[sixofravens-reads]

FINISHED THE COPPER CROWN!

Overall, I liked it! I love Celtic myths and history, and this book certainly delivers on its promise of "celts in space." I'm not well versed enough to say whether the author did very good research, or if she's parroting a lot of hippie nonsense, or if she just made a bunch of stuff up wholecloth (I imagine it's a mix), but the worldbuilding for Keltia at least is solid and very detailed.

That said, I do wish there was a little more worldbuilding for the rest of the universe. We know very little about the Imperium, Fomori, or even Earth, except that the first two of those have had major beef with Keltia for thousands of years, which was exacerbated by the Fomori orphaning and widowing Aeron, and then Aeron...blowing up a whole random planet (also, it's wild to me how casual people are about her blowing up the planet lmao).

It very much feels like the author worldbuilt Kelita intensely, then created the Keltic characters, and finally added the rest of the universe so she could have a sci-fi plot, with the Earth ambassadors acting as audience surrogates. It's not terrible, but things are a little uneven.

My last gripe is that Haruko should not have died. There was no reason for it! Aeron was going to fight Bres to the death anyway, she didn't need Haruko's death as extra motivation, so it just seems kinda....wasted. And also ruins the pacing of the scene a bit. He didn't even really get a full character arc.

Anyway, I did enjoy this book, it's an extremely fun blend of a Celtic fantasy world mixed with sci-fi. Will definitely pick up the sequel!

[criminalmutantsins]

Top 10 Favorite Young Justice Characters

10. Jaime Reyes/Blue Beetle

Starting off the list is Blue Beetle. Young Justice introduced me to him, and I was hooked. He’s probably the most mellow and calming voice. His arc and relationship with Bart (friendship or not) were my favorite aspects of S2. They bounced off each other in every scene. I was very disappointed when Jaime and Bart were sidelined so much, and hope S4 changes this (particularly with Bart).

Jaime in the number 10 spot since he doesn’t really have much of a memorable personality. Still love him to bits though.

        9. Will Harper/Red Arrow

Funny enough, I did not like Will. He was an asshole in S1; S2 kind of changed my mind about him but not enough since he didn’t appear as much. What really changed my mind was the episode “Private Security” (S3 Ep.4). I started looking back into Will’s storylines and, I have to admit, his is probably one of the best character development.

The first season had him unwillingly living a lie and betraying the people he cared for. In season 2 he was so consumed into finding the original Roy for five years, not even caring or focusing about his own life. I felt really bad for Will because he was probably going through an identity crisis and thought he couldn’t live his life without finding Arsenal. Probably felt guilty.

Seeing him living his own life and being happy with his daughter was so heartwarming. I smiled every time Will appeared in the latest season (totally ignoring the Will x Artemis fiasco), especially with Lian. I’m very proud of him.

I feel bad for putting him so low, yet I adore the next characters more.

 8. Garfield Logan/Beast Boy

I have been a massive Beast Boy fan since Teen Titans so you probably can imagine how excited to see him. His origin story was unique and his brother-sister bond with M’gann was very sweet. It was pretty weird seeing how much younger Gar was than Dick, but I got used to it. I was bummed that Gar wasn’t in S2 as much; however, S3 truly made up for it. 

After watching Beast Boy being a great leader in S5 of Teen Titans, I wanted a leader-like and more mature version of him. Young Justice truly delivered with Gar being the leader of the Outsiders. It’s nice to see him treated with respect rather than as a joke because that was my biggest gripe with Teen Titans. Though it was weird seeing him not crack a joke at all.

Gar’s story with his mom was heartbreaking to see. I literally cried seeing his reaction to revisiting his trauma in S2 and S3; I just wanted to hug and tell him how awesome he is. My only complaint with Gar in S3 was that the Outsiders weren’t established until near the end of the season.

His voice actor being Greg Cipes also gives him extra points (He’s a chill guy and radiates BB energy).

 7. Dick Grayson/Nightwing/ Robin I 

Sorry to all the hardcore Nightwing fans.

I love Dick (don’t get any ideas), but he doesn’t get enough development in the spotlight. One of the things I really wanted to see from him is his growth as a main leader, and his journey to becoming Nightwing. I was really bummed when these happened between the first two seasons.

To be honest, I don’t have as much to say about him other than straightforward qualities I enjoy about him.

1.His Voice (it’s so soothing)

2.His Personality (very charismatic)

3.Very Handsome (Probably in the top 3 my most handsome YJ Men list)

I put him higher than the others since he made a lot of contribution to the story and his new words (gotta love that aster!)

6. Megan Morse/M’gann M’orzz/Miss Martian 

If I made this list during S1, M’gann would have probably been in my top 3 (maybe even No. 1), but S2 didn’t give her any brownie points.

I really liked S1 Miss Martian because of her kind heart, awkward girl next door personality. Her trouble fitting in the beginning reminded me of when I was going through a time in high school; seeing her having trouble as well helped me feel not so lonely. M’gann powers were (still are) my favorite since I am a big fan of mind-like powers. I would feel so powerful. Watching her identity crisis(?) arc was great too. I’ve had trouble feeling comfortable in my own skin as well as my social anxiety (I’m a mess) and I could understand how scared Megan was of her friends’ thoughts on her true form. 

Oh boy. Season 2 basically ruined her. Learning what she would do to enemies was terrifying to see and left me wondering what happened to Miss Martian that made her step this far. What she almost did to Superboy was almost unforgivable. You do not try to manipulate with your boyfriend’s mind when you guys have an argument! Shame on you M’gann. If Superboy hadn’t forgiven you then I wouldn’t have either.

Good thing S3 somewhat redeemed her. Her kind heart was noticeable again and she refused to do that mind trick again (thank god). Very excited for the Superboy and Miss Martian wedding! Please creators, I beg of you to not skip over it. I want to cry my eyes out in happiness!

 5. Kaldur’ahm/Aquaman/Aqualad 

Now we’re in the top 5 with Aqualad (*ahem* Aquaman) starting it off.

Creating Kaldur was the best decision the creators ever did. I love him with all my heart!

He added diversity to the original team and was a great leader. S1 was not his breakout season, though the second season definitely was.

Kladur played the villain so well that he deserves an automatic Oscar. I never doubted that he was with the heroes, but he didn’t disappoint. My favorite part about Aqualad’s performance was when he rose from the ocean slowly like a cliché villain (he made it work), and the line he said right after he “killed” Artemis; it sent me chills. Love it! 

Pretty disappointed that he didn’t appear as much in S3. Very happy that he is a part of the LGBTQ+ community and is in a happy relationship. I’m a part of the community and loved that there was finally some representation in one of my favorite shows. Even so, I have to criticize how rushed and sidelined it was. I hope Kaldur and Wyynde’s relationship gets development.

 4. Kon-El/Conner Kent/Superboy

Like Will, I did not like Superboy at first. Mainly angry and volatile characters were never really my cup of tea. I do understand why he was upset and felt bad for him; I just handle anger the direct opposite as him. My love for Conner started growing around the end of S1. He was very sweet towards Miss Martian (bless him for not caring about her appearance) and his anger was in control.

Season 2 pretty much switched my opinions on him and M’gann. It was awful what M’gann almost did to him. That scene with him being so sad that what she did ruined that special bond they had almost made me cry. I wanted to give him a hug. He grew so much too since I don’t think he would have handled the whole M’gann drama as well in S1. A lot of furniture would’ve been broken.

I gotta admit something. I almost put Conner near the bottom (maybe no. 7). A comment in a poll in Amino changed my mind. I wrote a poll asking other fans who did they prefer SB or MM. At that point I said SB, though I didn’t think much of it. Someone (specifically yjfangirl) responded “Superboy has the best development in the show.” This had me thinking about how far SB has gone. In the beginning, Conner was an angry guy who felt alone and rejected by the person who he was meant to emulate. Now he is happier and living for himself rather than to be the next Superman. He’s getting married people! A little detail I noticed when rewatching S3 was Superboy mentioning to new characters that they weren’t obligated to be a hero because of their abilities. I adored this! The main reason why Superboy was created to be Superman if the original ever died, and another one of Luthor’s puppets. But he strayed from that pressuring path and is doing his own thing. Conner doesn’t want other people to feel like he did. What an absolute pure soul.

Also, yjfangirl, first I want to say Hi (*waves*)! Then say thanks for writing that comment. It made me really think about the bigger picture with SB and my love for him as grown exponentially. You probably didn’t mean to do that, but I still want to thank you. 😊

 3.Wally West/Kid Flash

We’re in the elites now.

I don’t know how to explain it, I just love Wally. He makes me laugh, and his character growth was great. At first, Wally was this cocky flirt who didn’t take the hero work as seriously. That changed in “Cold-hearted,” one of my favorite episodes in the series. This was when I really started seeing more of Wally than being this dumb flirt. It was great seeing him actually caring about helping people since I believed for a long time that he wanted to be a superhero to just have powers rather than actually protect others. The regret in his eyes when he thought his impulsive behavior killed Perdita helped me see who he really was- this somewhat arrogant speedster who had a kind heart. Episodes that can make me change my perspective on characters are truly special.

I was very upset that he wasn’t in S2 a lot. I understand why since he gave up the life, but I was still bummed. Seeing him being so loving and protective towards Artemis was amazing. Spitfire is my favorite ship and I will not give up on them. All I want is a happy ending! The penultimate episode of S3 was a hint that it will happen. Watching the S2 finale was heartbreaking, I cried watching him disappear, his love for Artemis being the last things he said. Artemis’ reaction did not(I just wanted to hug her). 

I have more to say, though I’m leaving it for another post. 😉

 2.Bart Allen/Kid Flash II/Impulse

Picking between Bart and Wally for second place was tough. Took me a while to decide; I’ll talk about it later on.

The moment Bart made his appearance, I absolutely adored him. He is amazing and I live for his hyper, fun attitude. His arc and relationship with Jaime were my favorite aspects of S2. What can I say, their chemistry is great to see.

That scene when he was meeting the Flash family was so adorable. His excitement was infectious and spoiling his dad and aunt’s births was hilarious! I watch it occasionally whenever I need a good laugh or reason to smile.

Unlike most time travelers- at least the ones I’ve seen- Bart was very involved with what was going on and befriended his biggest enemy- evil and weirdly huge future Blue Beetle. He was pretty careful about disclosing very important information and took things very seriously. You never know if disclosing everything was the thing that brought the world to chaos.

What I found interesting was his choice on how to interact with everyone. He seemed pretty gloomy in the future, but decided to portray this cheerful, devil-may-care attitude to be more likable. I understood (still kind of do). I had terrible mental health issues and I pretended to be happy in front of loved ones because I thought they wouldn’t care about me anymore. Bart got some brownie points for that.

I was dissatisfied when his role was greatly reduced. I wanted the creators to go further with Bart by revealing his past and how it affected him. He was pretty much comedy relief. You couldn’t imagine how disappointed I was, especially with it involving my second favorite character. Season 4 better change that.

I know that you shouldn’t assume a character’s sexuality, yet I really hope Bart is gay. There needs to be more clear representation and Bart can be one of them. I’m also a Bluepulse and Bartuado shipper (fine with either one as long as Bart’s bond with each of them stays strong).

Anyway, I mentioned that I would explain why I chose Bart for 2nd place over Wally. It mostly stems from wishful thinking. I really want S4 to have Bart as a main character since I believe the future will be strong plot point in the season. Development could surely happen such as Bart opening up more about what he went through. Let all those feelings go.

I’m going to write an article on my hopes for S4 when a release date is announced. Bart and Wally will most definitely be talked about.

 …..

We are finally near the end!

And my No. 1 favorite character is…

Drumroll please!

…

..

.

1.Artemis Crock/Tigress/Artemis

That’s right people!

Artemis Crock, original member of the Team and daughter of villains!

She is such an inspiration to anyone who wants to go their own past without their parents’ support.

It’s hard to describe how much I love Artemis. She’s brave, strong-willed, and a kind person. It’s crazy how great of a person she is after all the terrible things that happened to her. I look up to her because I don’t have a healthy relationship with my parents (verbal and mental abuse) and there are times I don’t feel strong enough to stand on my own. I want to carry the amount of strength Artemis has as my own.

After all that happened in S2, it was amazing to see Artemis come back to the team and train the new generation. It must have been hard to walk away from a safe, comfortable life for a chaotic, dangerous life. I admire that in everyone, but I hold more respect for Artemis since “the life” “killed” Wally. I wanted to hug her so bad.

She’s also one of the kindest people in the show, the events in S3 being the best example. When Zatanna was crying about her dad, Artemis was there to comfort her. It was so sweet! Roy and her also took in Halo and Terra like they were a part of the family; the archer treated them like the best big sister. That rainstorm scene was heartwarming to the core.

Wouldn’t Artemis be an amazing mother? Lian and her have a strong bond like a mother and daughter; I loved it, and Lian is in good hands with Roy and Artemis. Though Jade deserves a chance to be a mother. Artemis also seemed to enjoy taking care of those kids in that S1 episode. Wally too. You guys know what I’m guys insinuating. 😉

Get ready for some fanfics on that someday.

My favorite Artemis-centered episode was the second to last episode of S3. I was waiting for this episode centering around Artemis missing Wally and learning to move on. It was great yet heartbreaking. Nothing bad happened. That Will and Artemis kiss never happened. Everyone makes a mistake. No matter how terrible it was.

Anyway, seeing Artemis and Wally living their lives and having a baby gave me life, even if it was fake. It was a vision of the future. I will believe this until there is confirmation that Wally will not come back.

Did anyone else cry when Artemis was so desperate to, but Wally wouldn’t let that happen (the real Wally would do that)? They are a great example of a healthy relationship with all the love and support they have for each other. I want that.

[neonthewrite]

Washed Up Winchesters 4

The mission goes on! Jacob is just happy to be included.

Cowritten with @nightmares06, the writer behind the @brothersapart multiverse!

( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) -4- ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) ( 8 )

Story Tag

Read Time ~10 minutes

~~~~~

Jacob had spent much of his time walking the fields outside the city since finding the sodden pair. The livestock minded him less and less anymore, and keeping an eye on the herds gave him something to do. The moment Chase and Minnie had dragged the poor guys into the house to get them wrapped up and dry before they caught hypothermia, there was nothing more he could do to help.

When Minnie brought him news of their waking up, he was relieved. He'd thought he might be called back and tasked with carrying them to a hospital or something.

Now, after hearing Minnie's annoyed news that one of them ran off, he wondered if Chase had taken a chance to explain things. Probably not.

He heard Chase's argument by the tree out front. He didn't see the other guy, hiding as he was near the trunk, not until he'd moved closer.

Then, of course, he recognized a gun for what it was. Tiny, perhaps, but it would be just as deadly to the miniature people he'd been surrounded by since he washed up on Lilliput's shore.

"Hey!" he blurted, twitching forward. One hand braced on the ground to avoid falling over, and the other swept down towards Chase. Huge fingers curled around the small Lilliputian, forming a wall between the tiny pair. Chase was safe, barricaded in a small alcove created by Jacob's hand.

Only a short distance from Chase, Dean jerked backwards to avoid the incoming hand. It was not reassuring to have it sweep close to him, and his mind interpreted it as coming right at him.

Before he realized that Jacob was just barricading Chase off, a person that Dean had no intention of being hostile towards, his finger twitched, and he fired his gun.

All it did was sputter, and only then did Dean remember that he, and everything he owned, had been recently dunked in the ocean, rendering the gun totally useless.

In the pause that followed, Jacob stared at Dean with a shocked look. He’d been fully prepared to take a tiny bullet from that gun, and didn’t know how to proceed once that plan failed. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again.

Chase, however, was neither silent nor still for long. He shoved against Jacob’s hand with all the strength he had, and though Jacob wasn’t affected by it, he hesitantly uncoiled his hand partway for Chase to stumble out again. “Dude, seriously? You were gonna shoot him?!”

"I thought he was gonna grab me!" Dean shot back defensively at Chase, fussing with the gun only to find the insides were still flooded. Useless. "And now we don't even have any silver bullets to stop the skinwalkers, since Sam's gear is in the exact same shape!"

Jacob drew his hand back slowly, very aware of the distrustful glances he was getting. As he did, Chase shook his head and sighed. "Guess you'll just have to let us help ya, then," the small Lilliputian announced. "And no more attacking Jacob."

"I don't really blame ya," Jacob muttered. Even crouched down and trying not to loom over the pair, he eclipsed the house behind him. "I promise not to grab, if that helps…"

Dean sent Jacob an annoyed glare as he put his gun back together, resolving to give it a full cleaning the moment they were free. The gun deserved better after the amount of times he’d used it, occasionally saving their lives or the lives of victims.

“Better not,” he griped, remembering how strange it had felt to wake up in giant hands after being tossed overboard. “The last thing I need is the newest giant getting in the way while we work…”

“Actually,” a voice interrupted Dean’s grumblings. “We’re going to need Jacob’s help for this.”

Sam came striding up, Minnie not far behind him. She had to move fast to keep up with Sam’s longer paces, and as they hurried over to join the others, Jacob’s hand twitched slightly, startled by their sudden appearance. He scanned the small crowd of four while Sam went on. “If we want to have a chance at getting to the docks on time, we’re going to need someone with longer legs.”

Dean bristled at the idea. “Help?! From them? They’re just a bunch of kids!”

“And we’re just some hunters that got tossed overboard, remember?” Sam reminded Dean sharply. “Without Jacob, you’d be stuck at the bottom of the ocean, finding out if mermaids exist or not.”

Dean just stubbornly crossed his arms. “Our disguises and paperwork were perfect,” he insisted.

“I was thinking about that, too,” Sam admitted. “It could just be that they… sniffed us out. If there were only skinwalkers on the ship, it didn’t matter how good your paperwork was.” Turning to Jacob, he tilted his head back to meet him in the eyes. “So? Are you in? We need to find out what they want before anyone else gets hurt.”

Jacob’s eyebrows drifted up and he glanced over the others in the group. He had no idea what they might be talking about. The first thing he heard after coming back to the house was an exasperated Minnie explaining that Dean (and, to even more of her annoyance, Chase) took off. Despite being able to outpace everyone in Lilliput without question, he could barely keep up with them sometimes.

He had to hope they’d explain things eventually.

“I mean, yeah,” he answered after his confused pause. He shifted slightly where he knelt, feeling awkward out there on the front lawn. “But I can’t walk through the whole shipyard or anything, there’s some spots I’m not allowed to be.”

“That’s fine,” Sam assured him. “If you can get us there fast, we can take care of the rest.” Turning towards Chase and Minnie, he held out his hands placatingly. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but out there,” Sam waved distantly towards the horizon, “there are monsters.”

“We don’t have time for the whole spiel,” Dean interrupted. “But they’re as happy to kill you as look at you.”

“Me and my brother fight them,” Sam took over, trying not to let Dean’s gruff nature ruin what little camaraderie they had with the Lilliputians. “They’re not like your friend Jacob, or any other giant from the ocean, they’re far more dangerous because they can blend right in with you or me.”

Chase and Minnie exchanged a glance. His was amazed and confused, while hers was exasperated. Ever since Chase brought a giant home, it seemed like weird happenings followed. This was crazy. They couldn't outright deny the idea of monsters, not with a giant looming over the whole group, but the temptation was there.

"You mean, like, not just in Blefuscu?" Minnie finally said, cautious and reluctant to accept it.

Chase was practically enthusiastic about the news. "If there's monsters out there, why would they stick to just Blefuscu? Apparently they just hop on boats to get back and forth!"

Jacob frowned faintly. "And they toss people off boats," he murmured indignantly. It stuck with him that he'd nearly been too late to help Sam and Dean. "You think they're already ... infiltrated, or whatever?"

“We won’t know until we catch up to them,” Sam cautioned before Dean could jump in with his assumptions. “With their ship disembarking so fast, we only had a short time to infiltrate, and we got tossed off before we overheard any of their plans.”

“Anyway,” Dean said testily, “we need to get moving. Time’s wasting!”

Chase grinned. Minnie rolled her eyes at him. “You’re having too much fun with this, there’s actual monsters.” She crossed her arms as if it might deter her brother’s buoyant mood.

It didn’t. Chase tilted his head back and shielded his eyes from the sun. “You heard him, Jake! We gotta get going!”

Jacob wanted to agree with Minnie. If there were actual monsters out there, it seemed like they should be taking things more seriously. From the way Sam and Dean put it, people could already be hurt. Judging by how quick Dean was to pull weapons on him, these things could jump out at anyone at any time.

Still, he smiled faintly and scoffed. “I might just leave you guys waiting here,” he teased, even as he shifted one of his hands and moved it towards the small group, already turning it palm-up before it got to them.

Dean hesitated when the hand was there, larger than life and twice as strong. “I don’t know about this--”

Sam roughly shoved Dean’s shoulder, making him stumble onto Jacob’s hand before he could bring up even more protests. “Yeah, well this is what we’re doing,” he sassed his older brother. “Unless you suddenly have a better idea for how we’re going to catch up to the skinwalkers, just stay put and quit complaining.”

Chase and Minnie were next, though they gave Sam and Dean a few extra seconds to situate themselves. Even with twice the normal amount of people hitching a ride on his palm, Jacob still had plenty of room for them all. He held steady as Chase and Minnie stepped up, noting that they felt even lighter than usual compared to the newcomers.

“Alright, guys, no roughhousing,” Jacob instructed with a hopeful smile. “Won’t be long before we’re at the harbor.”

With the warning out of the way, the surface beneath the four tiny pairs of shoes tensed. Jacob’s fingers curled slightly, an extra precaution, as his hand rose into the air as steadily as he could. Luckily, he’d had some practice. Lifting the miniature crowd towards his chest was a smooth motion followed by his other hand appearing like a guard rail.

And then he stood, sending them all but soaring into the air as the air brushed past.

It was all of about five seconds of Jacob standing at his full height before Dean ended up clinging to Sam.

"Dude, really?" Sam griped, trying to peel the iron grip his older brother had on his arm. "What's the problem now?"

"Problem?" Dean asked, his voice a higher pitch from normal. "There's no problem. We're just a hundred feet in the air, that's all!"

"You fight monsters, Dean, and a little height is what gets you?"

Dean sent a glare at Sam, but it was half-hearted, the heights beyond the edge of Jacob's hand distracting him enough to keep him from sassing back. "Just... don't like heights..." Dean muttered. "It wasn't a problem before!"

“Minnie’s not a fan, either,” Chase chimed in, earning a dark glare from his sister. “But don’t you worry. Jake here has practice!”

Indeed, Minnie stood close to him with her arms crossed and her shoulders tense, and avoided looking at the edge of the giant hand. “He’s … pretty careful,” she muttered. Admitting it was tough, but for the sake of helping their erstwhile guests feel safer, she would avoid arguing with Chase. At least on some things.

“Talking about me?” Rumbled not only overhead, but nearby in Jacob’s chest. He tilted his head down to check on his many passengers. He’d never seen his hand look crowded. “Gonna be alright? The only other secure way I have is my pocket.”

Dean's reply was somewhat along the lines of a strangled grunt, and Sam shook his head, amused.

"This is fine," Sam told them. "No... pockets. I doubt that would do much to help."

Dean nodded faintly in agreement, and gave them a weak thumbs up. He sank down, ending up sitting on Jacob's palm, trying his best not to think about where they were, and that he was sitting on a giant's hand. All of that while said giant took them to their destination.

The other hunters back home would never believe this one, as if they needed more reason to call the Winchesters crazy.

Jacob nodded once, and his sympathetic gaze lingered on Dean’s shaky hunch. It wasn’t the first time one of the little folk had been nervous on his hand, and probably wasn’t the last. Even Chase had been concerned at first, as much as he tried to act like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Once assured everyone was as settled as they could be, though, Jacob turned his attention on the ground far below instead. He didn’t want to dote so much attention on his passengers that he forgot to keep an eye on anyone wandering down there.

As he stepped off the front path of the Lisong’s home, he regretted leaving a very noticeable giant boot print behind. Someone would likely scold him for it later.

[sheerfreesia007]

Fake Dating Headcannon

Mitch - The room is loud as patrons all line the bar calling out to the busy bartenders trying to get their attention to relay their drink orders. Mitch sits at the far corner of the bar as far from the crowd as he possibly could get and sips on his beer slowly. His eyes are darting around the room looking for unknown threats that could ruin his Friday night plans. Thankfully there are none that he can see but his body instantly tenses as another body brushes up against his. Soft full lips graze against his ear as words are whispered to him. “I’m so sorry to do this to you but could you do me a solid and pretend to be my boyfriend for a few hours?” Mitch turns his head to look at you and his eyes quickly dart around your pretty face. Your eyes are silently pleading with him and he hums softly and leans forward to press a soft sweet chaste kiss to your mouth. You gasp inaudible against his mouth at his action but then you seem to melt against him slowly. Your hand comes up to rest against his chest and he almost growls at the feeling of your nails curling against his chest. When he pulls away your eyelids flutter open and your sparkling dazed eyes gaze up at him. “Who’s bothering you, so I know who to keep an eye on.” He questions softly to you as his eyes dart around the room surveying it. “Guy in the blue and yellow plaid with the brown puff vest over it.” You relay easily and his eyes narrow in on the man, he’s larger than Mitch but Mitch knows he can take him if he needs to. Mitch widens his knees and scoots the stool further back before he guides you to stand between his body and the bar. His arms loosely cage you in protectively. “This okay?” He asks softly and you nod your head at him as your fingers dance up and down his chest idly. “Yeah I’m sorry to have to ask you this. But you were the only single looking guy here and I’ve seen you here before so I felt it was a good bet you’d be able to help me.” You explain softly and he shakes his head at you silently. “Don’t apologize. I just feel bad that you’ve had to go to these lengths to get away from a guy.” Mitch easily dismisses your explanation. “Guys need to learn some manners when it comes to pretty women.” He watches as you flush under his appraisal and he smirks softly at you before leaning forward and pressing another kiss to your mouth. This one quickly heats up and when he tries to pull away to get some air your hand comes up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him back in quickly. He grunts softly against your lips and finds that he’s rather glad you chose him to protect you if this is how it’s going to go.

Marcus - Marcus was standing in the back of the elevator waiting as the rest of the FBI employees all loaded on. He smiled when he spotted you, you didn’t work in his department but he knew you worked up by his floor because you two often rode the elevator together and he would always get off before you did so worked on one of the floors above his. As you moved to the back of the elevator you grinned at him and held up a cup of coffee towards him. He furrowed his eyebrows at you and tilted his head with a soft confused smile. “What’s this?” He asked softly as he took the cup of coffee with a kind smile. “Just a little bribe before I proposition you.” You say with a wiggle of your eyebrows. Marcus chokes on the sip of coffee that he had just taken and you laugh brightly at his response. “Not like that Marcus, get your head out of the gutter.” You said as you laughed softly. He blushed brightly as you leaned back against the wall of the elevator. He watched silently as your eyes darted to the other riders in the elevator before turning to him slightly. “My sister is getting married in a month and I need a someone to come with me.” You said softly avoiding eye contact with him. Marcus smiled softly feeling proud that you had chosen him to ask. “If it’s not your thing then don’t worry about it. You have no obligation to go or do me this favor. And my family is a little crazy when it comes to relationships in the family. Hell they’ve been bugging me to get a boyfriend for years now, so they’ll be extra crazy if you come with me. You know what? Nev-“ you were rambling and Marcus found it absolutely adorable that you were rambling about this. But he took pity on you and spoke up. “I’d be honored to be your date for the wedding. I mean you did buy me coffee.” He teased softly and your head snapped up to look at him so quickly he worried you might have whiplash for a second. “But I have one condition.” He cautioned you. “Anything. You’re doing me such a huge favor as it is.” You gushed out gratefully. “Let me take you on an actual date before the wedding.” He said softly and watched as your eyes widened softly and a bright happy smile fell across your lips. “Really? You wanna take me on a date?” You asked in awe and Marcus smiled warmly down at you. “Have wanted to for months now. Ever since the first elevator ride up.” He confessed softly and your grin widened even more shockingly. “I would love to.” You said in a hushed breath. “Then it’s a date.” Marcus confirmed with his own soft smile directed at you.

Francisco - Lively music is playing from the jukebox in the corner of the bar as you burst through the door, your eyes darting around the room wildly trying to find the men who would normally be found in the establishment on a Friday night. When you heard the loud raucous laughter of the group your eyes instantly followed and you sighed in relief as you quickly made your way over towards them. “Hey there Sunshine! How are you?” Benny called out happily as he saw you approach the table they were sitting at. “Hey Sunshine!” Pope greeted you happy to see you and Ironhead and Catfish both nodded at you in greeting. “Hey guys.” You sighed at tiredly as you sat in the empty chair at the table. “Everything alright?” Ironhead asked with a raised eyebrow and you shook your head. “No, it’s my grandma again.” You lamented softly and all four of the men nodded their heads in knowing, they had all met your grandmother at one point or another in your friendship with the group and they knew how much she stressed you out. “What’d she do this time?” Benny asked as he took a swig of his beer. You tilted your head from side to side as you grimaced in embarrassment. “More like what I did this time?” You questioned gritting your teeth slightly. All four pairs of eyes snapped to you and then all match slow grins formed on their faces. “Tell me you finally told her off.” Pope said in a hushed tone as he looked at you with wide hopeful eyes. “I did, but I also shot myself in the foot.” You said as you ducked your head. “What do you mean Mija?” Catfish asked softly as he sat leaned back in his chair watching you quietly. “She was being a brat and kept nagging me about getting a boyfriend and no matter what I told her that I wasn’t looking for one she wouldn’t let up. So I told her she was being an asshole and overbearing and that I already had a boyfriend and was keeping him a secret because of the way she acts like this.” You explained all in a rush. It was quiet for a few moments before laughter rang out around the table from the men. Pope was cackling and slapping his knee while Benny was howling with amusement, Will was chuckling softly as he shook head and Catfish just stared at you with an awed look and a soft smile. “So where’s this boyfriend?” Benny teased as he finally stopped howling. You grimaced and shook your head. “It was a spur of the moment thing I don’t actually have a boyfriend and now she’s expecting the imaginary man to show up to the next family party this weekend coming up.” You lamented and rested your head onto the table with a huff. Pope laughed happily and you turned your head to him. “I’m so glad you find joy in my misery asshole.” You snipped out. “I don’t I just find this to be perfect timing. Fish doesn’t have Rosalita this weekend coming up so he’s free and available to play pretend with you.” Pope said excitedly. “Pope!” Snapped Catfish as the other two men grumbled in positive tones. Your head snapped up and turned to Catfish with hopeful eyes. “Really? Would you be okay with that? You’d only have to endure my family for one night with me and then I could make up some excuse for us to break up so she’d get off my back.” You began saying excitedly. “Mija.” Catfish said softly as he groaned and rolled his head on his neck. You turned your head to him and felt your hopes plummet at the look on his face. Sighing dejectedly you shook your head. “Don’t worry about it ‘Fish. It was a stupid idea.” You said softly and sat back in your chair as you crossed your arms over your chest. The table grew quiet and you felt embarrassment heat your face before you stood from the table. “I’m gonna head out guys I’ll see ya around.” You said in farewell to the men who only grunted and grumbled in response to you. As you made your way out to the parking lot you grumbled to yourself about how stupid of an idea it was that Catfish would be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend for one night. You had hoped that maybe he returned at least some of the feelings that you had for him but unfortunately it seemed that he didn’t. Just as you came to your car you unlocked and began opening the door only for it to be shut by someone’s large hand coming down from behind you. You turned quickly and saw Catfish standing close to you. “I don’t want to play pretend.” He said in a rush and you rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah I got the memo loud and clear when we were inside.” You griped to him and he huffed at you. “No, I mean I want it to be real if I’m going to be your boyfriend.” He said lowly and you stared up at him in shock. “Are you being serious?” You asked softly and he nodded his head. You surged forward and pressed your lips to his, making him grunt softly and slowly return the kiss.

Stiles - You were standing in line at the movie theater waiting to buy popcorn and your drinks, not to mention you would have to pick up a package of m&m’s for Stiles since that boy couldn’t go through one movie without them. Suddenly you feel a presence behind you and whirl around quickly almost losing your balance as you gaze into Stiles’ shocked eyes. “Hey.” You greet and smile warmly at him and he returns the smile before looking over his shoulder. Your eyes dart over his shoulder and see Scott with his date Rachel over by the doors. “Hey so listen Scott needs us to pretend to be dating because he thinks it would be weird if his date found out he brought his two best friends on their date with him.” Stiles explained quickly as Scott and Rachel began walking over to the two of you. “Well yeah because it is kinda weird. I mean we told him that.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders. You didn’t want to pretend to be dating Stiles and you were trying to avoid it all costs, because you wanted to actually be dating Stiles. You had had a crush on the boy for so long it was starting to become pathetic how lovesick you were for him. Just then Stiles stepped closer to you until your chests were almost brushing and his hand slid around your waist tugging you even closer to him. Your hands came up to his chest to catch yourself before you fell completely into his body as you stared up at him. Rolling your eyes you huffed at him as he grinned gazing down at you. “Smooth Stilinski.” You tease him and watch as his grin widens and his cheeks flush with a pink hue. “I’m a smooth operator.” He says confidently and you burst out laughing at his horrible line. “Oh god I’m dating a dork with horrible puns.” You moan out and he grins as he chuckles happily. His head tilts downward and his nose nuzzles behind your ear. You suck in a sharp breath at his movement and your body just melts into his. “I wish this wasn’t pretend and that we were actually dating.” He whispers softly almost inaudible but you heard him. “Me too.” You whisper softly and then your head jerks back and the two of you stare wide eyed at each other as you both process what you had confessed. Suddenly the two of you lunge at each other and it’s all a mess of wet kisses and flailing limbs as you collide. “Hey….guys?” Comes Scott’s unsure statement from next to you and Stiles pulls back violently gasping for air. “Scotty the two of us need to leave. Yeah, we need to leave. Have fun on your date.” Stiles rushes out quickly as he grips your hand firmly in his and drags you out of the movie theater. “Bye Scott! Bye Rachel!” You call out over your shoulder as you wave at them.

Tequila - Sadie Hawkins. You sigh softly as you read the text message from Tequila. “Everything alright?” Nick asks as he leans on the bar top smiling softly at you with a raised eyebrow. “Gotta go save Tequila again.” You tell him as you take another swig of your beer. “So who’s it gonna be tonight? Scorned girlfriend or tattling best friend?” He asks amused as he shakes his head. “Does it matter? The results are all the same.” You say with a shrug. Your eyes dart over to where Tequila sits with a pretty brunette and you sigh softly. “You know maybe you should tell him how you feel maybe then all of this would stop.” He suggested and you shook your head at him. “I’m just the friend who bails him out of bad dates.” You tell him and smile tight lipped. Standing from the stool you begin to walk over to Tequila and the brunette. When Tequila spots you he gives you a relieved look before his eyes widen comically. “Oh shit.” You hear him say softly and the brunette begins to turn towards you. “Baby?!” You cry loudly as you begin to glower at Tequila. Well tonight was gonna be scorned girlfriend. Pursing your lips you cross your arms over your chest and stand defensively between Tequila and the brunette. “Baby, I thought you said you were gonna be late at the office.” You accused Tequila with a pout. You could see the brunette starting to fidget on her stool as she watched you glare at Tequila. “Honey I-“ Tequila began to try to explain but you cut him off. “And who’s this?” You asked as your eyes swung to the brunette. She grimaced softly and stood quickly from her stool. “I’m so sorry he asked me out on a date tonight and I didn’t know he was in a relationship.” She rushed out embarrassed and you felt bad that you were putting her through this all because Tequila didn’t like something about her. Your body suddenly felt exhausted at playing this charade with him. “I have to go.” She said hurriedly before rushing out of the bar. “You are a life saver.” Tequila gushed out as he chuckled softly to himself. “Tequila I’m tired of doing this. Find someone else to play your fake girlfriend I’m not doing this anymore.” You said with finality and moved to the bar and signaled Nick over so you could pay your tab and go home. You were just so tired all of a sudden. “What do you mean? What am I gonna do without my best fake girlfriend?” He asked as he looked over at you with a peculiar look on his face. You shook your head at him. “I’m tired of lying to these women that you find fault with. Don’t you get tired of it?” You asked incredulously. He shook his head in response. “Not really I mean it stinks that they aren’t what I’m looking for but that’s part of the dating world.” Tequila answers. “Well part of the dating world is being honest with your dates. I’m done Tequila you’re gonna have to figure it out on your own from now on.” You said before turning towards Nick. “I wanna close out my tab Nick.” You said as you pulled your wallet out from your back pocket. “Don’t worry about it I gotcha covered.” Nick said softly and waved his hand at you. You looked at him silently for a moment and then nodded your head. “Thanks. I’ll see you guys later.” You said with a wave and turned to leave. “So that’s it we’re just done?” Tequila asked from behind you and you turned to look at him. “I told you I’m tired of lying Tequila. Find someone else to lie for you.” You responded dejectedly and then turned and walked out quickly.

Whiskey - The room was too crowded. So crowded that it was almost impossible to move about the room. And Whiskey needed to move if he was going to catch his target at any chance. Just as he stepped to the side around a portly older man a woman stepped in his path and fluttered her eyelashes at him. She was tall and slender in a floor length red silky dress, a pretty face with red painted lips and  long cascading black hair. She was gorgeous and she knew it if the look in her eye was anything to go by. Whiskey sighed softly as his eyes darted over her shoulder to the target he was tailing. “Excuse me Ma’am.” He said softly as he ducked his head and tried to step around her. Her hand shot out to his forearm and kept him in place. “You’re new I haven’t ever met you before.” She simpered to him and fluttered her eyelashes at him again. He smiled tightly at her and looked back to the target to only seem him slipping through the far door at the side of the room. “I don’t-“ he began to explain as he huffed softly but was cut off by a lilting voice. “Hannah, leave the poor man alone he’s just trying to get across the room.” You chastised the woman softly as you stepped up to the two of them. Whiskey turned to gaze at you and had to tilt his head downward to get a look at you, you were a short little thing. You smiled kindly up at him and hooked your arm through his elbow. “C’mon sweetheart, I’ll get you to where you’re goin’.” You said softly and began to lead him through the crowd weaving around people like you were spineless and all he could do was be pulled along with you. When you exited the crowd and he found himself standing in front of the door that the target had escaped through not more than five minutes ago he turned back to you. “Thank you.” He said warmly and full of relief. “No problem sweetheart.” You said with a bright smile and wink sent his way. You began to turn from him and he reached out gently for your hand. When he gripped it you looked over your shoulder at him in confusion. “I’d like to repay you.” He said turning on the charm for you with a knowing smile. You laughed delighted and shook your head at him. “No need. I come to these things so often I could navigate them with my eyes closed.” You said dismissively and waved your hand in the air. Whiskey stepped closer and you looked up at him with a teasing smirk on your face. “But if you insist. What do you propose?” You asked softly still smirking at him. “Dinner at my favorite little hole in the wall and an evening walk around the park not far from it.” He suggested. He watched as you silently contemplated his offer and then a grin lit up your face and he felt his breath was stolen from him. “Alright sweetheart. Come find me later when you’re done with whatever and I’ll give you my number.” You told him and he nodded eagerly. Then you slipped into the crowd again and Whiskey lost sight of you. He smiled softly to himself as he turned to the door and quickly slipped through it getting back to the mission but you’d be on his mind the whole time.

Raymond - The twinkling sound of glasses hitting each other and light chatter filled the ornately decorated room. You felt slightly uneasy at all the extravagantly dressed people in the room and you shifted on your feet clad in small kitten heels. You raised the glass filled with rum and coke to your lips and took a small sip. “There you are darling.” Rosalyn said as she stepped over to you with Mickey following close behind her. You smiled brightly and nodded your head at her. “Have you been hiding away over here in the corner all night?” She asked in a teasing lilt and you smiled, shaking your head at her. “No, I played the part of professional business woman and made connections but I was just taking a breather. It’s a bit stuffy in here.” You said with ambiguity as your eyes followed a man who held his nose up as he walked past you. Mickey’s bark of laughter pulled your attention to him and he grinned wickedly at you as he wrapped an arm loosely around Rosalyn’s waist. “I like her. She calls it like it is. No wonder you hired her on.” He said with warm fondness as his eyes peered at you knowingly. “I was wondering if either of you had seen Ray? I lost him earlier in the crowd and haven’t been able to find him since.” You said with slight concern tinging your voice as your eyes darted around the room looking for the man. “Is that the only reason you’re looking for him love?” Rosalyn asked smirking at you knowingly. “How times have I told you to stop playing match maker Ros?” You asked exasperated with her intentions. “Oh really now?” Mickey asked in a soft awed voice as he gazed at you more scrutinizingly. “I could see it.” He said after a moment and you scowled softly at him. “Don’t encourage her. Soon she’ll start planning our wedding and Ray won’t have a clue.” You lamented to him softly and he laughed amused. “Actually you may have to go save him love.” Rosalyn said with a twinkle in her eye as she gazed at something behind you. You turned to see what she was talking about and almost burst out laughing at the sight. Raymond stood there uncomfortably stiff as a woman brushed her hands up and down his suit clad body. You watched as Ray leaned back away from the woman with a slight sneer on his face and his darted around the room for any type of assistance. “Go save ‘em love. He needs you.” Rosalyn encouraged softly from behind and you scoffed at her. “This doesn’t mean anything.” You said over your shoulder and felt her pat your shoulder lightly. You then took off across the room to save Ray from the woman who couldn’t take a hint. You watched as Ray’s eyes landed on you over the woman’s shoulder and watched as his body seemed to deflate with relief as you moved up to his side. The woman had finally stopped touching Ray and you could see that his body was relaxing further. You smiled up at him as he looked down at you. “Hello love.” He said warmly to you in that deep baritone voice of his. “Hello Ray.” You responded kindly as you sidled up to him resting your hand on his bicep feeling his muscle flex through the material of his tuxedo. You watched as something changed in his eyes as he gazed at you and suddenly he leant forward and pressed his lips to yours making you gasp softly. He turned his body towards yours and his hand came up to cup your cheek. “Atta boy Ray!” Came Mickey’s shout from somewhere in the room and the two of your pulled away grinning widely.

Forrest - It was busy in the station tonight as you worked behind the bar and cleaned up as the hours passed. Most of the locals knew you and they knew that the Bondurant boys looked out for you, but it was those few out of town ones who tried to overstep the boundaries. As you were walking back from clearing away one of the tables you held the dirty dishes in your arms as you moved past the men sitting at the bar. Suddenly a sharp sting blooms on your backside and you whirl around in shock. Two men that you haven’t seen before in the station are snickering at your response and you scowl softly at them as you move closely behind Howard’s back to get behind the bar. Howard’s eyes trail you and you connect your eyes with his only to shake your head not wanting to cause a problem tonight. He nods his head slightly and you get back to refilling drink and food orders from the patrons. It isn’t until another hour has passed that the same two men start talking about you in rather vulgar terms and it’s starting to make you uncomfortable. Your whole body jolts when the loud sound of Forrest’s office door slamming shut catches your attention. Your eyes dart to him as he moves slowly through the room over to the two men who have been giving you a hard time. “Is there a problem here?” He grunts out to the men and they look over their shoulders at him. “No problem at all.” One of them answers and you watched as Forrest leaned closer to the men. “You leave her alone or you’ll have to deal with me.” Forrest threatened quietly to them and your eyes widened slightly at his words. You knew the Bondurants cared for you but you had never thought that Forrest would threaten someone in your honor. Then Forrest was moving around the bar to stand behind it with you as he moved to start wiping down the bar as you got to the orders that came in. “So what, is she your gal then?” Sneered one of the men and you avoided making eye contact with anyone as you continued pouring drinks for the other patrons, but you could see Forrest still in movement out of the corner of your eye. He stilled with his hand holding the wash rag against the bar top and stared at the man in silent shock. “Yeah, that’s his gal. So better leaver her be.” Howard said suddenly causing everyone to turn and look at him. He smirked softly as his eyes landed on you and saw the heated blush gracing your face.

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART FOUR - A Rogue One Fanfic

So this part/scene got a little out of control. Ironically, since I only had the base idea of when it would take place until I started writing it. You can also find/read this story on AO3 now.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Four

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some sappiness?

Words: 2,978

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

...

“Ms. Erso, it is time for you to vacate the infirmary.”

Jyn jerked, jarred from sleep and reaching for the knife she no longer had on her person. Her situation settled back around her surfacing consciousness, calming her immediate fight-or-flight response but keeping her on edge.

“No,” she told the medical orderly droid. “I already told the doctors, medical staff and you lot that I’m not leaving Captain Andor. I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“Yes. You were most clear regarding your intransigence, Ms. Erso.”

Droids had the worst attitudes. Shouldn’t med ones be programmed with a better bedside manner?

“But the bed is needed,” the droid went on when she just wanted it to go away so she could wallow in the overwhelming mix of emotions drowning her; loss, guilt, relief. “There are numerous incoming casualties from a skirmish in the Za’dan sector.”

Jyn scowled, but didn’t budge.

“What difference does it make if I leave? It’s not like I’m taking up an extra bed.” As if to prove her point, she shifted closer to Cassian in the infirmary cot, making her already petite body take up even less room.

“Captain Andor is to be processed for discharge. So you will keep your superfluous vow that he won’t wake up alone. Even though he wouldn’t be alone anyway. There are medical staff and med-droids present.”

Jyn was too alarmed by the droid’s revelation to mind the griping typical to its type.

“You’re discharging him?!” Jyn shifted, pushing herself up to study the unconscious man.

How well she knew every bruise and injury visible and many hidden by the white medical tunic and pants. She’d passed out herself from exhaustion as they began treating her injuries, but as soon as she’d woken up, she’d bullied, threatened and pleaded until they brought her to Cassian, making her wait outside the operating room, only able to watch as they finished the surgeries and treatments. They’d let her curl up in a chair next to the Bacta tank they’d stuck him in afterward, and no one even questioned by the time he was relocated to an infirmary bed when she climbed in beside him.

She’d seen the bandages, bruises, burns and scars. And she knew how they’d changed as the hours, the days had passed. Barely days, just three days since Scarif. Were they insane? They were just going to turn him out, in his condition?

Apparently, they were.

The med-droid was already injecting him with something, and Cassian was rousing. Jyn’s heart beat faster and she practically held her breath, on her knees on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with anticipatory anxiety, clutching at her kyber crystal with one hand. His past few hours of sleep had been strained. He’d been unconscious but also tense, in pain. She’d felt it in the rigidity of his muscles, the periodic hitches in his breathing.

“Did you give him more meds for the pain, too?” she asked the droid. How could they ask him to get back on his feet when he was in so much pain just lying still?

“Yes. And the stimulant should keep him awake until he gets settled back into his quarters.”

Jyn sagged in relief slightly until Cassian came crashing back into reality with a gasp and a jerk, and bewildered, began to thrash. She threw herself on top of him, placing her hands on his shoulders to hold him down, hoping he wouldn’t hurt himself worse, but understanding how confused and frightened he must feel.

“Cassian, It’s Jyn.” As if that would make a difference to him, if he even remembered her upon waking from a days-long practically-a-coma, someone he’d only met far less than a week ago and since had suffered devastating traumas. “You’re safe. You’re on the rebel base on Yavin 4. In the infirmary.”

Almost instantly, he went still, calmed, like a switch had been thrown. But she supposed the man did have quick reflexes, was highly adaptable to various situations. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have made it so long as a rebel spy.

“Jyn?” His eyes found her face. They were a little glassy and unfocused but were still, well, captivating, dark, intelligent and expressive. “What happened?”

“We did it.” She shifted back to kneeling beside him, gave him a smile, a genuine one albeit bittersweet. They had succeeded in their mission, but at a tremendous cost. “The plans to the Death Star were received by the fleet.”

“Are they planning an attack?” Cassian pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing and inhaling sharply, making Jyn picture the freshly healed surgical incisions that were doubtless strained by the movement.

“I…” Jyn had never thought to ask. The moment she realized they weren’t going to die on that beach, making sure Cassian survived had become her only concern. “I don’t know.”

“I should report to Command.” Cassian moved to get out of the infirmary bed, but Jyn stopped him, grabbing his arm to hold him back. She shimmied across the bed and hopped off it to stand in front of him.

“If they needed any more information or intel, they would’ve asked me.” It sounded plausible, even though if they’d tried it, she couldn’t rightly say she would’ve cooperated (they hadn’t listened to her the last time she tried to convince them of the truth), but especially if it meant leaving Cassian’s side. Even for a moment. How had someone else become her primary, her only concern, that she now cared only for his welfare? “And you’re not in any shape to help. Give yourself a little more time to heal.”

She reached for him as he was already trying to stand, stiffening and wobbling for a moment when he was fully upright. But Jyn would support him without him needing to ask, slid her arms around his waist and tucked her shoulder under one of his arms. He leaned into her, likely without even realizing it. From what Jyn could tell, Cassian was an independent sort of person, like herself, but unlike herself, was not too proud to accept help, being more of a team player than she ever had been.

His fingers went to pinch the bridge of his nose and his eyes squeezed shut. He took a long, deep breath, swaying a little.

“How far are your quarters from the infirmary?” she asked.

He sighed. That close, was it?

“Can you make it? If I help you?” Jyn looked around, but the droid had already stripped the bed and skittered off. She would go find whatever he needed for assistance because maybe he was a little proud, too, and had sacrificed a good portion of his independence by leaning on her. She waited, letting him decide, despite her wanting to wrap him up in soft warm blankets in a fluffy bed of pillows and keep him safe.

“Let’s try it. I should probably find out how bad the damage is sooner than later.” His expression had gone tight and unreadable, and her heart broke to think of the justified fear he must be feeling, that he may have suffered permanent damage that could affect the rest of his life, that might take away his purpose of serving the rebellion.

“They healed the blaster wound easily, but you’ve got an impressive scar,” she said as he took a tentative step, using her like a crutch, not questioning why or how she knew his wounds and medical diagnosis and treatments. “The fractures in your vertebrae and ribs probably haven’t completely knitted yet but the prognosis is good.”

Well, this wasn’t so bad. His weight was a burden making her own steps difficult, but Jyn didn’t begrudge it, not when it meant he was alive, and on his feet even. And they were already at the infirmary door. The medical staff hadn’t given them even a second look, but Jyn steeled herself for the possibility of stares as they entered the rest of the base. She couldn’t care less but these were Cassian’s fellow soldiers and he deserved their respect and not pity.

“They replaced your hip and part of your femur,” she said when they entered the hallway.

“Is that why it feels like I’ve been sliced open from my ribs down to my knee?”

“They sealed you back up.”

A light chuckle escaped him. “Things could be worse, then.”

They could, they really could. If Jyn were to make comparisons, it wasn’t just the fact that they hadn’t died on Scarif like it seemed they should’ve, but this situation she found herself in, saddled with a wounded spy (by her own choosing), on a rebel base, a Death Star out there somewhere in the galaxy… It was still the best place she’d been in since… Since she was abandoned by Saw at 16? Since her mother had died and her father had been taken?

Part of her that enjoyed the warmth of Cassian’s body beside hers, the feel of his wiry flank beneath her hand, the smell of his skin, even the weight of him he placed on her shoulders, that part proposed that this was the best situation, the best time in her entire life.

How pathetic did that make her?

She enjoyed dragging a severely wounded man around some giant old ruins half-reclaimed by the jungle converted to a military base… sort of base… The Alliance was so loosely confederated, everything seemed slapped together and piecemeal.

But hopefully the medical facilities had been up to par… They had seemed nicer than anything Jyn had ever experienced. But that wasn’t saying much at all.

“You need a minute?” she asked, finally realizing Cassian’s steps and breathing had become labored. She maneuvered him towards a wall and leaned up against it with him, nodding to a passing rebel soldier of indeterminable rank and unnotable appearance.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you’d left me on Scarif,” he said, his voice low, quiet and pained as he almost-panted, sagging against the ancient stone wall.

“No,” she said. “You don’t mean that.”

“I was ready to die.”

She didn’t want to hear this. The meds and the strain were making him say things. She told him as much.

He shook his head.

“Listen to me, Jyn.”

What could she do? What could she say? That she didn’t want to hear how he valued his life so little, that he’d throw it away just for the slim chance of providing an opportunity for the rebellion to destroy some Imperial weapon, a terrifying one, but one weapon of many. She-

“I felt peace. For the first time in my life, probably.” His voice had gotten even lower and quieter, almost a whisper, wistful even. Jyn didn’t dare look at him, had to concentrate on breathing normally when she felt his fingers slip into her hand. It was easier to consider her unsolicited affection for the man when he was giving no indication of whether or not he returned it. “And I think it was because you were there. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I didn’t feel alone.”

Oh, Force. He was getting delirious, saying things that, from what she knew of him, he would never share even if he did feel them.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your own bed.”

He didn’t say anything else as they traversed several more halls, and Jyn wondered if she’d hurt his feelings by not responding to his raw, quiet confession. But he continued to lean on her without any hesitation and the silence between them felt comfortable. It was strange. He’d made her so tense in the beginning, the way he watched her, how secretive he was, so guarded. But somehow, somewhere along the way, she grew to not only feel comfortable with Cassian Andor, but to trust him as she’d never trusted anyone else before.

And she thought, maybe he trusted her in return. He followed her on a suicide mission, let her support his injured, vulnerable self on Scarif, let her drag him off that cursed planet, and now lead him across the rebel base, passing by people who really amounted to the only family he’d ever had.

There weren’t many, however. And none stopped. Or stared, too much. The med droid must have been right about the incoming survivors of the skirmish, everyone seemed a little rushed and mission-oriented. Or maybe there was more going on…

“Stop. Stop.”

Jyn immediately froze.

“Are you okay?” she asked, shifting beneath Cassian’s weight to try to get a good look at his face. “Do you need a break?”

“We’re home,” Cassian said, his eyelids sliding nearly shut before they shot open again.

“Oh,” Jyn said, ignoring the way something fluttered inside of her over his choice of words. “Which one?”

“Left side of the hall.” He indicated the door directly to their left with a nod of his head. The stimulant must be failing to combat the pain meds, and his body’s need to rest, to heal. Because he was getting heavier and more slack in her arms.

They staggered over to the door to his quarters and he was at least coherent enough to punch his code into the lock. His room was by no means large, barely larger than Jyn’s cell on Wobani. But at least he didn’t have a cellmate, er, bunkmate… Well, not officially…

She basically dumped him on the narrow bed, which he didn’t seem to mind at all, making a groaning sound of relief and taking several deep breaths, his legs hanging awkwardly off the side. Not knowing what else to do, she bent to lift his legs and slide them onto the bed, forcing him to lay down in a less uncomfortable position. She pulled the white slip-on infirmary shoes off his feet and tossed them in a corner, feeling only a flash of contrition over sullying the pristine room. It was so austere, even with two of the walls comprised of the old stone of the ancient temple. It could’ve been anyone’s quarters. No. That was wrong. It’s nondescriptness, everything hidden away in the meager storage units, only Cassian would keep his personal space in such a spartan manner.

“Cassian…?”

He mumbled something she took to imply he was listening and not passed out yet.

“Do you have extra bedding? A blanket or something?” She could do without. She had, many times. But it would be a little bit better than sleeping on the bare hard stone floor.

“No… Jungle moon… Already too hot… Why?”

“I was going to sleep here, if you don’t mind,” Jyn said. Why was this an awkward conversation to have? Why was she so afraid he’d say no, send her away? “On the floor.”

His eyes opened and that furrow formed between his brows as he studied her with a gaze that seemed to be having trouble focusing. But then he was scooching over until he was almost touching the wall.

“I think this is a nanometer larger than the infirmary cot,” he said. “What do you think?”

Jyn tried not to smile as she kicked off her own flimsy infirmary shoes and climbed onto Cassian’s bed to stretch out beside him. Something inside her sighed, content. She didn’t let it out.

“I don’t know…” she said. “But I guess if they made the infirmary beds nicer than the barracks, they’d have sick rebels all the time.”

A chuckle escaped through his nose.

“I don’t think they usually offer an ángel as a companion, either.”

“What?” Jyn shifted onto her side to study his face. His eyes were closed and he seemed content. The pain meds must be working.

“My mother was a believer in an Ancient Festian religion that worshipped a creator god. I don’t remember very many specifics...” Jyn didn’t dare breathe out, afraid of interrupting the story, softly spoken with hints of nostalgia, sharing a childhood memory, an intimacy she knew Cassian permitted, well, probably no one. “Except, there were these creatures that did the creator’s bidding, guiding people, aiding them, saving them… Angeles… I don’t know the word in Basic…”

He looked at her, and her apprehension about breaking the spell ebbed. Cassian knew full well who he was talking to, even if the pain meds had loosened his tongue, broken down the rigid walls he kept around his private self.

“I don’t know the word, either,” Jyn said. “I’’ve never heard of such creatures, mythical or otherwise.”

Cassian laughed, a soft little rumble that was accompanied by that rare smile of his that was brighter than a yellow dwarf sun and warmed her just as well. But, “What’s funny about that?”

“You…” His hand found hers, fingers sliding against her palm to curl around hers, engulfing her smaller hand. He shifted to face her, wincing a little, but his expression was soft if serious and . “Jyn, you saved me, guided me, are still coming to my aid… You’re my angelita…”

Oh, shit, he was so tired and drugged up he was becoming incoherent. Hopefully, he wouldn’t remember saying such emotional things- oh.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles, making her swallow a gasp of surprise, and fight the sigh when he held her hand to his chest as he lay back, his eyelids finally losing the battle and sliding shut.

Oh, Cassian…

“Don’t worship me,” she whispered to his sleeping form. “I’m nothing worth venerating.”

Of course, was she behaving any different when it came to him?

They were quite the mess, the two of them.

She wriggled her fingers in his hold until she was able to interlace them with his and feel the warmth of his palm against hers. Jyn closed her eyes, immersing herself in the quiet, safe moment.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

A Great Treasure

(Jaskier just constantly getting kidnapped by dragons and dressed real pretty? Yeah. I’m into it.)

tw: gratuitous, almost My Immortal levels of outfit description because I am A Ho For The Look, dragons being horny, Geralt being soft as fuck but also kinda horny

---

The next dragon that took Jaskier wasn’t nearly as sneaky. Nor was it green. The great, sapphire-blue reptile swooped down above the road in broad daylight and plucked the surprised bard up with its great talons, disappearing over the tops of the trees before Geralt could so much as think to pull his sword. The Witcher heard Jaskier’s startled cry echo out over the forest and urged Roach into a canter. He departed from the beaten path and took off in the same general direction the creature had been headed. “It hasn’t even been three full fucking weeks yet. Fuck.”

Hello, Jaskier! I’m a friend of Etheid’s, the dragon introduced herself. The draconic method of telepathic communication still bothered the bard a little but the blue dragon’s voice seemed more sing-song than Etheid’s had been. Certainly more feminine. Call me Lythos, or Lyth for short. 

“Nice to meet you, Lythos,” Jaskier muttered, clenching his eyes shut tightly. “Let’s talk more when we’re on solid ground, yeah?”

Afraid of heights, bardling?

“Just a smidgen of a little bit.”

Worry not, we’re nearly to my tower.

“Another tower?”

Whatever happened to talking on solid ground?

“I’ve been kidnapped by two dragons in one month. I’m curious.”

I doubt this will be the last time you’re kidnapped by a dragon, either. Not until one of my brethren gives up during their turn or loses the bet.

“Their turn? What bet?! What are you talking about?”

I will explain the situation to you more fully when we land. There is much to be discussed. Many things to plan. Many rules to be determined and recorded for the others. 

Jaskier sighed, glad he’d left his lute tied to Roach’s saddlebags today, and let himself be carried off to yet another strange adventure. “So you guys are just going to keep swooping in and stealing me away like this because it’s fun?”

Yes. And because Borch said that you and Geralt are kind-hearted and friendly mortals. We dragons don’t meet many such humans in our travels; we’d like to reward you somehow.

“So you’re rewarding me by kidnapping me?”

That’s why we included the second part of the deal, with the elaborately designed outfits. It’s not just because we enjoy collecting treasures from all over the Continent and squirreling them away to play with later; it’s also our form of payment to you. If you’re dressed from head to toe in silk and gold when Geralt rescues you then there’s no time to stop and take those items off before you ‘escape’. You can keep them or sell them; anything you are given by one of us should be considered payment for services rendered.

“And the service that Geralt and I are providing is...entertainment?”

Correct. It would be unfair to use up so much of a Witcher’s time without paying him.

“You’d be surprised how many people do that, actually,” Jaskier griped. “Village after village, turning him away without payment just because he’s a mutant and a freak. It’s horrible!”

Now you understand why my kin are so desperate for something good in the world. The love between you and Geralt is pure and strong, that is the other reason we chose the two of you.

Jaskier blushed. “We’re just a couple of flimsy mortals that happened to bump into each other and get along. Most of the time. It’s a very human thing to do. There are other couples in need of some emotional urging, if you’re looking to orchestrate a romance.”

No, we wish only to further yours. Now, would you care to look through the clothes I’ve gathered? We have at least another day before your Witcher finds us. 

“Less than a day if he chooses not to pause for meditation, the fool.”

He will not risk losing you, Lythos sighed happily. I checked in on him earlier; he is meditating and gathering his strength. He has admitted his love for you now and is determined to prove himself. How dreamy.

“That is absolutely precious! Ugh, I love him so much.” 

Then let us make you lovely, so that when he arrives he is doubly excited to see you.

“I can’t argue with that logic. Not from such an ancient and wise creature.”

Flattery gets you everywhere, bard, Lythos teased. She huffed out a thin cloud of steam and Jaskier chuckled in return. 

“I know.”

---

“Are you kidding me?”

Absolutely not, the dragon shook its snout. Try them on. Unless you don’t like it, of course; I have other options, too.

“No, it’s all very lovely. It’s just...I get to keep them?”

Of course. I don’t want to make you change your clothes in the middle of Geralt’s daring rescue. That would totally ruin the romance!

“I suppose that would be rather odd. Even Geralt might catch on to something like that.” Jaskier held clothes the dragon had preferred in his hands, glancing once more at the suggested shirt. “What exactly is this supposed to be?”

It’s a tunic, of course. What else could it possibly be?

The bard gesticulated towards the dragon, holding the apparent tunic out for inspection as if he was shocked or surprised by Lyth’s choice. “It’s completely sheer!”

Yes, and it will make you look so very delicate, Lythos urged. Just try it on with the pants. Just once. You can change if you don’t like it, like I said. There’s a whole closet of costumery at your disposal, Jaskier.

The bard sighed and pulled the pants on first. They were made of a deep, peacock blue silk and hugged him in all the right places. He turned back and forth, observing their fit in the full-length mirror Lythos had provided. His legs were defined but the material wasn’t overly tight; it hadn’t bunched up near his thighs or ass like silk of this kind usually did. “Were these tailored to fit me?”

Yes, they were. 

“How? I’ve only been here for a few hours and you pulled these directly from the armoire!”

Etheid passed along your measurements to the rest of us so that we could better prepare.

“Right, of course. Dragons. Bets. All that fun stuff,” the bard sighed. He tugged the gossamer shirt down over his head and tucked it neatly into the waistband of his high-waisted trousers. Jaskier glanced towards the mirror again and discovered that he looked...he looked amazing. 

The shirt had been designed with a low, swooping neckline that revealed both his collarbones and a good portion of his chest. The thin, almost translucent white material left whatever the shirt did cover still almost entirely visible. When he blushed it could be rather obviously traced all the way down to his mid-chest. The giddy bard mussed his hair a little and did his best pouting ‘rescue me’ face; oh yes, that’s the way to do it. 

Jaskier looked downright sinful. 

“You are absolutely brilliant, Lythos! Geralt is going to lose his mind when he sees me in this ensemble.”

So you’ll wear it?

“This particular outfit is my new favorite. I’ll have to wait until the next dragon shows up before we can turn a profit from this whole bard-napping melodrama venture.”

There is always the jewelry. I can give you a few extra pieces to sell since you love the clothes so much; I have too much of the stuff sitting around and collecting dust anyway.

“Would you like it if I let you choose all my jewelry? I’m afraid I tend to go a bit overboard.”

Yes, yes! The dragon huffed happily, filling the space briefly with a cloud of steam. I have temporary earrings and bracelets and necklaces. I even have anklets if you so desire. 

“Goody!” the bard rejoiced. “I love anklets! I never have good enough reason to wear them, though. This will be lovely. Do you mind if I roll the pants up to my knees? Geralt does so love the sight of my bare skin. I think it would drive him absolutely mad if we showed a little ankle for the Witcher.”

Please do whatever you see fit, my friend, Lythos insisted. You must sparkle for your White Wolf. You must look the part of the treasure he seeks to find!

“Ah, so I’m a treasure this time instead of a damsel?”

Hmm, yes. I think that makes it more interesting. What kind of treasure would you like to be?

“Geralt’s,” the bard breathed dreamily. The large, winged reptile rolled her eyes and huffed again.

Duh, that’s the point. I meant like...pirate treasure? A king’s treasure? I’ve never done roleplay before. Mostly just burning down the houses of rude nobles and kidnapping some princesses upon request. I’m not incredibly familiar with human treasure.

“Oh! I could be your hoard!”

You’re brilliant! Of course! This will be so fun. What if you laid in my tail when Geralt arrived? Like I was guarding you?

“Well then how would he get me away without hurting you?”

I could make him give a speech? Woo you away from me with your words?

“Oh, that’s very clever. Very dramatic. I love it!”

We do make a good team, I think.

“Do you have any makeup? This look would be excellent with some eyeliner.”

You are definitely as entertaining and fun as Etheid promised. I’m sure that Aramaris will enjoy you just as much.

“Wait, who’s Aramaris?”

They chose the next lot after me. Then, after Aramaris has their turn, Vertos would like a chance to partake. 

“Hold on a minute. There’s a waiting list of dragons who want to kidnap me?”

And see Geralt come running to your aid, yes. It is rather sweet to watch and we are all very bored. We’re going to see who can make you the prettiest and get Geralt the most worked up. 

“So this is just a game to you?”

As I said before, it is both a game and a legitimate matchmaking endeavor. Additionally, we’re compensating you for your time and trouble.

“I suppose,” Jaskier agreed. “Plus this outfit is absolutely to die for.”

Yes, and now to the makeup!

---

Geralt was very confused and very tired. He had tracked the dragon through the woods to yet another ancient, dilapidated tower. Jaskier was hidden at the top, no doubt, probably terrified out of his mind. This was the second dragon to capture his idiot bard in a fucking month, though the first time had been extremely unorthodox. Just plain odd, really, considering Geralt’s previous experiences. 

Oh well, nothing he could do now except climb the tower and rescue Jaskier.

---

Jaskier was waiting for his Witcher to arrive while reclining within the coil of Lythos’s enormous blue tail His pants were only a half-shade brighter than her scales and the contrast was remarkably artistic (perhaps by design). The bard was barefoot and his pants were rolled up to just below the knee. Lyth had insisted on decking him out in lots of jewelry since Jaskier was to be her supposed hoard. It will be more realistic and believable if you’re dripping with silver and sapphires, bard. He found himself unable to argue with her logic once again.

Jaskier had a handful of thin silver bands around one ankle, a silver cuff around his left wrist, and another bejeweled cuff at the top of his left bicep, beneath the shirt. Lythos had added a thin silver chain around his neck, which fell to just above his chest hair and ended with a teardrop shaped sapphire pendant. Some kind of crushed gemstone powder had been dusted atop his collarbones and into his hair, making him seem to sparkle in the midday sun. He’d added a light, smudged layer of kohl around his eyes to widen and darken them like he had once at court. The dragon had also demanded that he slide several rings of various styles and sizes onto his long, tapered fingers. It will draw his attention to your hands, she explained. You will thank me tonight, I’m sure.

That suggestion had Jaskier blushing brightly and Lythos had nearly snorted fire from laughing so hard at the young man’s reaction. 

Here he comes! She announced, bringing Jaskier’s back to the present. His blue eyes fixated on the thick wooden door that led from the chamber where Lythos lay curled and ‘guarding’ him to the bedchamber where he’d stayed the last two nights. Very shortly after her announcement there was a determined grunt, a heavy thud, and the door crashed open to reveal Geralt. 

The Witcher was breathing heavily and his nostrils were flared but he wasn’t wearing his armor. He hadn’t been wearing it last time, either, and Jaskier wondered if he was already onto their little charade. “You know I won’t win if we battle,” Geralt admitted, staring across the room at the lounging dragon.

His eyes flickered to Jaskier for a moment, widened when they took in the bard’s appearance, and then returned to staring down the monster. 

I don’t intend to fight you, Witcher, Lythos said, projecting her bored words into both of their minds. Jaskier knew that she was faking the cold disinterest but his heart still picked up speed when one of her large claws hooked beneath his chin and raised him into a slightly taller sitting position. Though I suspect that you’ve come to take back my newest treasure and I am loathe to let it go so soon.

The Witcher nodded, unable to form words. He was nervous for the life of his bard but he was also slightly distracted by the way Jaskier was being forced to arch his neck and tilt his head that way. The bard looked so fucking breakable and soft, surrounded by scales and held partially aloft by such a strong and pointed appendage. His eyes were wide and completely focused on the Witcher, his own peril seemingly irrelevant even as he gasped against the scraping claw. Geralt shook his head to clear it and narrowed his eyes even more. “Don’t hurt him.”

It’s my treasure, Lythos hummed dismissively. I will do with the human lad as I please. Go away, Witcher, and leave us to play.

“He’s not a toy,” Geralt growled. He reached for his sword and cursed when his hand swiped through empty air. He knew bringing a weapon up so many flights of stairs was pointless but he still should have kept it on him for safety. Jaskier made a gentle, nervous noise and the Wicher flinched. “Please don’t hurt him!”

You would barter for the human? For his safe return?

“Take me instead,” Geralt offered. He held his hands up in surrender and took a slow step forward. Lythos lowered Jaskier back down to his lazily reclined position and raised her scaly brow. The bard was shocked; he hadn’t been expecting the Witcher to do something so drastic right away. He’d anticipated some kind of argument first.

You would sacrifice yourself for him? Trade yourself to me in order to save him?

“Of course,” the Witcher scoffed. Lythos could hear his slow heartbeat starting to accelerate. “I love him. I’d do anything for him.”

Hmm. Little treasure, what do you think?

“I can’t let him do that for me. He’s a Witcher, I am merely a traveling bard. The world has more need for him than it does for me.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt half-whimpered. A pleading tone bled into his words as he took another step forward, this time towards the bard, “You foolish man. I know you. You’d grow bored here. You’d grow antsy to travel. You’d try to escape and you’d get yourself hurt or killed or...”

I protect what is mine, the dragon interrupted. He will be safe here. I will keep him happy and entertained.

“Please,” the Witcher sighed. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head forward, white hair falling in a curtain around his ridiculously attractive face. “Jaskier was the first good thing Destiny ever did for me. I can’t lose him.”

I have seen into your heart and know these feelings to be true, Lythos intoned. She spoke as if she was making a very difficult decision and not sticking to a vague pre-determined script. You may take the bard and go, but you must hurry. I may change my mind.

Jaskier clambered out from between the coils of her massive tail and allowed Geralt to sweep him up into those strong, stable arms. He clung to the Witcher’s neck and buried his face to hide his smile. Lythos said her final goodbye to the bard alone; I hope my kin treat you fairly. If they do not, let me know, and I shall take care of it. Thank you for the lovely time.

“Thank YOU,” Jaskier mouthed. 

And then they began to descend the winding tower staircase.

---

“I hope I never see another dragon again in my life except for maybe Borch,” Geralt panted, urging Roach into a slightly faster canter.

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, smiling a little to himself. “Running into another dragon so soon after two nearly identical kidnappings would be very strange.”

[eirist]

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS

One-shot #: 23

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: M (Suggestive)

Note: Happy Valentine’s Day people! This was originally for the Whimsical Kisses collection but it turned out differently than I had planned. And I liked it better. So enjoy!

Summary: He was a greedy man when it comes to his alcohol. Just like she was a greedy woman when it comes to her money. But he was all too willing to share it with her beneath her beloved trees.

It was a rather tiring day.

If Zoro may say so himself.

Just when he thought that idiot love cook couldn’t get any worse, someone had to go and invent a day for couples, celebrating romance and all that mawkish stuff guaranteed to make a normal, unromantic person barf.

Ero-cook’s adoring gestures went into overdrive because of that and stayed in it the whole damn day. He shifted from shouting one moment into noodle-dancing the next, then to swooning and crooning at their two female crewmates.

He put the rest of the crew (the boys, specifically) to work to give the two women the most romantic evening of their lives, with threats of blood and gore and a dinner straight from a vegetarian’s menu if they did not lend a hand into making the day extra special for the girls by helping turn the Sunny’s lawn deck into a romantic makeshift restaurant for a dinner date with him.

Zoro snorted at that, muttering ‘aho cook’ under his breath before promptly turning his back and leaving the rest to deal with the blond’s insanity.

He holed himself up in the crow’s nest, far away from the man as possible and busied himself with his training. Every now and then he rolled his eye whenever Sanji yelled bloody murder at one of the boys for ruining or messing something in his carefully laid out dinner date plans.

He couldn’t understand why the other idiots put up with the idiot prince’s buffoonery. The threat of the vegetable menu isn’t that bad. Food is food after all.

But not everyone has the same thought as him. Nor can they withstand fasting or a measly meal of greens just like him.

He grumbled out his complaints when Nami popped up in the nest to check on him. She just laughed at his grievances and with a cheeky smile, told him that this is the one time she and Robin are all too willing to indulge the chef’s wish, making the swordsman frown.

Unless Zoro has something planned for the two of them. Then she will be no show at the dinner date and leave Robin at the Sanji’s mercy all night.

Which he absolutely doesn’t have. And Nami knows that of course. She already knew what she was getting into after all when she involved herself with him.

With a wink she left him to his own devices. But not before blowing him a kiss and promising that she would see his unromantic, delectable ass much, much later… if he is still awake and waiting.

He just huffed in response and watched her disappear down the hatch to prepare for their evening with that damned swirly brows.

Yet the weird thing is… he wasn’t even mad that she’s gonna spend the evening on a dinner date with that twirling dumbass cook. Nor even jealous.

For he was already way past those emotions. He had long ago came to deal with them.

Instead he was… amused.

Because he definitely likes to see how it would turn out.

In the end… it definitely wasn’t aho cook who Nami would spend the rest of the night with.

But that doesn’t mean he can go slack today of all days—even if Nami already expected that he had nothing special for her (because he is broke and unromantic, her words).

In all honesty, it would really be hard to compete with that ero kappa when he has been showering the girls with flowers, chocolates and a carefully made Valentine’s lunch and perfectly planned dinner date.

There’s no way the other male crewmembers can top that even if they wanted to.

Still, Zoro did stay awake and waited for her. Waited until that shitty dinner date with that shitty cook was done. Waited under her mikan trees, hidden beneath its shadows, with a bottle of a rather pricey alcohol that he was able to buy when he snuck into town earlier with his measly savings before they (the ones who doesn’t have any role in the dinner date) were confined inside the galley with a rather scrumptious dinner guaranteed to keep them in place so as not to disturb Sanji’s ‘date’ with the lovely ladies.

It’s the thought that counts after all. He was a greedy man when it comes to his alcohol. Just like she was a greedy woman when it comes to her money.

But he was all too willing to share it with her beneath her beloved trees, surrounded with the citrusy fragrance he had come to know and love while underneath the brilliant stars shining up in the sky that she absolutely can put to shame.

It counts as something. Especially from a man like him who doesn’t have a single, romantic bone in his body.

And Nami understood that. Because she was there after the dinner date was done and tidied up and everyone had retired to their respective rooms (the love cook still griping about how the night went by so fast)—all smiles as she made her way to him; still in that wine red, gown that showed of the bare skin of her back, the light tap of her bare feet against the wooden floor in time with his heartbeat.

Amidst lowered voice, hushed tones and muffled laughter at all the craziness (mainly from shit cook) that happened that day, they shared that special drink.

“Are you trying to get me drunk Zoro?” Nami joshed as he handed the bottle back to her so she can drink her share of the beverage again.

He grinned. “Why? Is it working?”

“Hmmm yes,” she whispered jestingly as she moved to settle on his lap, arms locking behind his neck as she kissed him.

The skirt of her gown had ridden up, exposing her long, creamy legs and he took the liberty of trailing his hand against the smooth skin of her thigh, moving upwards, higher and higher until…

He suddenly pulled away from her lips to stare at her questioningly.

Did she actually went and had dinner with that perverted cook without anything underneath her dress?!

Nami smiled mischievously at his expression, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair, tickling the back of his neck…

She brought her lips closer to his ear.

“I took it off before coming here to you,” she whispered, her tone seductive, winking saucily when she felt his chest rumble against her as a growl escaped him.

“Happy Valentine’s Zoro,” she teased before her grin turned naughty. “Now, why don’t you take my dress off so you can enjoy your valentine’s day present?”

-------------------------

A soft snore tore him from his thoughts and Zoro glanced down towards his slumbering companion.

He was sitting on the floor of the crow’s nest, with his back resting against the wooden bench surrounding it. Nami was sleeping beside him, lying down her stomach on their makeshift bed of layered blankets, making him wonder how in the world can she sleep comfortably in that position given how generous her breasts are.

Surprisingly, it didn’t bother her that she didn’t have any pillow. Normally she would complain about the lack of support for her head and neck and would eventually force him to let her use his arm.

Her cheek was resting contentedly against the soft sheets; her arm was resting limply across his thigh, the blanket they were using for cover was strewn carelessly above her desirable and naked ass, barely covering it.

She was so deep in her sleep and oblivious to the world around her.

Another snore broke the silence and Zoro smirked. Nami rarely snores (yet she claims that she doesn’t) but he knew well enough.

His navigator must be really tired.

He reached down to drag the blanket up and cover her properly. She was mumbling in her sleep… something about steering the ship away from an incoming storm.

Zoro promptly sneaked a glance out of the nest’s windows. After all, Nami’s weather predictions are never wrong.

But the sky is clear. Not a single cloud was hovering across the vast, still dark horizon sprinkled with countless of brightly shining stars.  

He finds it adorable that she was still manning the Sunny and getting them out of danger even in her dreams.

He carefully lifted her hand from his thigh, his calloused fingers caressing her soft ones.

Zoro leaned down so he could bring them closer to his lips for a kiss.

That pulled her out her slumber.

“Mmmm…Zoro?” She blearily blinked up at him. “Why are you awake?” Her voice still hoarse from sleep or from their earlier activity, he was not sure.

She lazily stretched her body as Zoro watched her. “Is it time to go?” She asked again as she sleepily sat up, running a hand through her tousled orange tresses. The blanket covering her fell down and bundled on her hips, exposing her delicious breasts still marred with his kisses and bites.

He smirked, hands reaching out for her waist. He tugged her closer to him, kissing her forehead. She welcomed his affection with a warm, sleepy smile, wrapping an arm around his torso as she hummed in content.

“Nope,” he finally answered as he kissed her lips softly before planting a peck on one bare shoulder. She shivered slightly at the sensation. “I told Usopp I’d cover his shift tonight.”

He grinned when her eyes sparkled at the thought of spending some more time with him.

“We have the nest to ourselves ‘til daybreak. Happy Valentine’s Nami.”

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

Request: some G1!Roddy/Galvs fluff if you're feeling it. I couldn't think of anything more specific though.

With pleasure! Roddy and Gal fluff, here we go!

Word count capped at 1,688

-

It was a pleasant evening on Cybertron. Cybertronians—Autobot and Decepticon—aliens, and humans alike were all going about their business, making the roads and pathways feel and sound busy. Lights shone from the buildings, lightposts, signs, and headlights, chasing away what darkness approached with the setting of the evening sun. Among those littering the pathways were Galvatron and Hot Rod, walking side-by-side and conversing with each other.

Hot Rod was not the tallest mech around, he had come to terms with this, but he still wasn’t that small, either. And yet with how enormous in height Galvatron was, he couldn’t help but feel like he needed a boost. It would save his neck from cramping, at any rate. Speaking of cramping, there was a knot in his knee joint that was agitating him as he walked and it quickly reminded him of an event that transpired just earlier before a peace conference the two had with the newest planet that wanted to join in the trade market.

The youth paused his stride to twist and stretch his joint. “I can’t believe you shoved me down those stairs,” he griped to the giant purple mountain who came to a stop a few paces ahead of him.

“You’re still on that?” Galvatron mused with a smirk. “It’s not like it was a particularly large set.”

“Something’s caught in my joint because of how I landed! And then we had to fragging run to catch the peace conference on time!” Hot Rod reminded loudly, drawing some attention of passersby. Upon seeing the source of the loud voice, however, most went back to minding their own business with a shake of their heads or amused grins. The two mechs had been together for a good while now, and most everybody local knew how rowdy the couple was.

The Decepticon leader placed a hand on his hip. “Then you shouldn’t have kept interrupting me while I was giving Cyclonus instructions.”

“That was an overreaction!” the Autobot pouted.

“I think it was a perfectly reasonable amount of payback. Simple, small, and hilarious.”

The little sports car was about to complain some more when he heard a small grinding noise and felt his knee lock into place. “Whoops,” he uttered after a bit of silence.

Galvatron frowned. “What was that?”

“You broke my knee,” Hot Rod replied calmly, testing the joint for any give. There was absolutely none.

“I broke nothing,” his conjunx retorted. “You were the one that kept messing with it.”

“I can’t walk like this. I can’t even hobble. It’s stuck at this awkward angle.” The red and orange mech extended an arm out to Galvatron expectantly. “Gally, since you caused this, you have to carry me. It’s only fair.”

The Decepticon leader didn’t move for a moment. “I could just leave you here,” he started slowly with a grin.

“Gally—”

“But then you would just irritate someone else passing by to bring you back.” The large mech strode over to his conjunx and picked him up bridal-style. He watched as Hot Rod pointedly got settled, wrapping an arm around his neck as he crossed his locked joint over his good leg to provide it a little more support. If he didn’t know Hot Rod better, he would have been annoyed by the snooty-princess performance. But this was all part and parcel of their relationship.

This act, the banter, the antics. They found that it made their relationship a little more lively and fun. Not only did it keep them both in good spirits, but it seemed to lighten the atmosphere around them. Galvatron hadn’t noticed it at first, but once Hot Rod brought it to his attention he realized that those around them genuinely paid some mind to how the two interacted with each other. Given Galvatron’s reputation, people expected him to act cold, aloof, and perhaps abusively. And while that may have been true an age ago, Galvatron had since learned to let loose and have a little more heart with the help of his beloved. That wasn’t to say he didn’t still have a temper, but it was certainly easier to control nowadays, and now his first reaction to irritations wasn’t violence, so Hot Rod called that enough of a success.

The Decepticon leader continued walking along the pathway, acknowledging the odd civilian with Hot Rod here and there that gave them any attention. Yes, the banter and acts helped everyone around them understand Galvatron’s change in disposition much more. Now instead of wary, angry, or distrusting looks, he received much calmer reactions. They could see that he had changed himself for the better. They understood that if he ever acted in a “violent” way, it was only ever toward Hot Rod and even then it was never anything huge. A punch to the arm, a smack to the back of the head, or a shove down a short flight of stairs. All in good fun. Hot Rod usually shrugged it off and never took it as a personal slight. Or if he felt particularly childish, he’d use it against Galvatron later.

“You owe me a massage, too,” the Autobot piped up.

Like that. The older mech rolled his optics. “No, that is extra.”

“Oh, are you going to be fixing my joint, Gal?” Hot Rod asked mockingly. “Since you caused this?”

“You are so fussy,” the purple bot griped. “It was just a flight of stairs.”

“And need I remind you that I am a delicate princess? I could tell Optimus, you know. He’d set you straight.”

“He’d say you deserved it and to stop wasting his time.”

Hot Rod snorted. “You don’t know Optimus very well.”

“Neither do you, it seems,” Galvatron quipped, causing the sports car in his arms to chortle.

“I guess so,” he admitted with a grin.

The two continued on like this for several more blocks until they reached the unit they called their home. Once inside with the door shut firmly behind them, the two lingered in the entryway and took a moment to breathe. Out of the public eye. They could relax. Galvatron moved to a doorway leading to an open room. A combination of kitchen unit, living room, and dining area. He gently set Hot Rod down on the sofa and gave his hand a squeeze before straightening up again.

“I’ll go grab the tool kit,” he stated.

His conjunx smiled up at him and relaxed into the cushions. “Thanks, Gal.”

The Autobot didn’t have to wait long. The Decepticon came back in less than a minute, and pretty soon he was lifting up Hot Rod again and taking his spot on the couch, to then set him down across his lap so Hot Rod’s legs stretched across the sofa cushions. Quietly, Galvatron held the tool kit for him while the young mech got started on making the repairs to his knee.

On average, this was usually the only time of day they had to themselves where they could enjoy each other in silence. Out in public they had images to maintain, politics to get through, and responsibilities to meet. The banter only did so much to ward back the stresses of each day. The evenings in their home, though… Hot Rod hummed happily as he felt Galvatron absentmindedly run the knuckles of his free hand up, down, and over his spoiler fins. He shot a glance at the older mech. His optics were closed and his head was bowed slightly.

“Rougher day than usual?” the Autobot asked softly, not wanting to chase away the calm atmosphere in their home.

Galvatron grunted. “Just a few rogue Decepticon extremists that can’t handle coexistence,” he muttered without opening his optics or looking up.

“You’ll whip them into shape, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’ll whip them, all right…”

Hot Rod chuckled and tried not to move too much so he could enjoy the fin stroking. After a few more minutes of silence, he tested his joint then closed the tool kit. “There. That’s that sorted.” He took the kit from Galvatron’s hold and set it on the floor.

Without opening his optics, the purple giant slowly wrapped his arms around the young bot and pulled him closer, resting his face in the crook of Hot Rod’s shoulder and neck. He heaved a tired intake before giving it a little nuzzle.

The Autobot cuddled up and returned the embrace, rubbing his digits on the back of his sweet’s neck. This side to Galvatron the two guarded jealously. It was something Galvatron figured would ruin his image so no one would take him seriously, and Hot Rod felt proud that only he was allowed to see the teddy bear that the old Decepticon could be. This was all Hot Rod’s and he wasn’t about to share it with anyone.

The two stayed in this position until the last bit of sunlight outside left, then Hot Rod spoke up. “Got your second wind?”

Galvatron rumbled lowly with thought but didn’t move. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“Either way, I’m getting up.” The red and orange mech tried to pull away, only to grunt as Galvatron tightened his hold. “Galvatron!” he groaned as he continued to try and break free.

The Decepticon smirked and raised his head, his optics glinting mischievously. “You don’t need to get up.”

“Come oooon!”

“Why would you need to get up? It’s movie night. We’re all settled.”

Hot Rod fixed him with a squint. “Maybe I want some goodies to snack on. Ever think of that?”

“You don’t need them,” Galvatron said.

“I will for this movie!” the Autobot insisted. “It’s a romance drama! There’s going to be shedding of tears!”

It was Galvatron’s turn to groan as he released his conjunx. “What do you even like about these types of things? I don’t understand.”

Hot Rod got to his feet and moved toward the kitchen. “I’ll convert you one of these days. It’s only a matter of time.”

“We’re watching an action thriller after your sappy stuff!” the Decepticon called back to him.

The young mech replied with a nonchalant, “Uhhhh huh.”

[nayutai]

Baby Don’t Move

⇢ Pairing Yunho x Female OC | Office Worker AU

⇢ Word Count 6.010

⇢ Warnings Yunho has a filthy mouth and a huge dick, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, cursing (in general), aaaand I think that’s it

⇢ Summary Naima Yancey is ambitious and determined so her promotion at DevTech comes as no surprise to anyone. What should be a joyous moment for her is tainted. The promotion comes with a real office, more money, and a higher status, but it also comes with close proximity to the office golden boy Yunho. He gets under her skin in a way no one ever has, but she’s determined not to let this oversized menace ruin this opportunity for her. Turns out, Yunho would rather ruin her instead.

The muted ding of the elevator sounds much too joyful to Naima. Her transfer to the accounts receivable department should be marked by the sound of a death rattle or a dying elephant. A twinkling little ding only makes her even more pissed off. She glances down at the contents of the box nestled in her arms to see the brand new name plate she’d been given for her new office. 

Naima Yancey

Receivables Supervisor

The youngest supervisor in DevTech history according to HR. She guesses that anyone else in her position would be excited about the transfer she’s mentally griping about. It’s not every day that someone like her gets unexpectedly promoted to a supervisory position. Naima has only been with the company for three years and apparently she’d made the most of that time. She pauses next to a sea of cubicles to scan the numbers above the offices on either side of the employees rapidly typing away at their stations. Only a few of them even bother to give her a second glance and for that Naima is incredibly grateful. She finally spots her destination, hiking the cardboard box she’s unloaded her desk into a little higher on her hip. She takes half of a step and immediately regrets every life choice that led her to this point.

“Well look who we have here. Are you lost, Ravioli?” Naima grits her teeth at that god awful nickname, swallowing the scathing retort that’s burning her throat. The deep baritone voice sounding off somewhere over her left shoulder is the cause of every ounce of the work stress she carries in her shoulders like a boulder. 

Yunho Jeong. Beholder of an unfair amount of undeserved beauty and the victim in Naima’s most murderous dreams. 

“You were in the staff meeting when they announced my promotion, Yunho.” She deadpans. Her skin is starting to itch from the prolonged exposure to the man in front of her. The smirk that is practically permanently etched on his face does nothing but piss her even more. She wants to smack him until it disappears.

“I’m just messing with you, Ravioli. You know that. Welcome to Receivables.” He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he starts backing away. “Try not to fuck it up!” Naima can feel the thick cardboard of her box bending to the forceful clench of her fists. The weight of of nearly fifty pairs of eyes keeps the scathing remark she wants to make from bubbling up. 

Fucking Yunho. Naima hasn’t even been in Receivables for an hour and she’s already doubting if the extra money is worth the headache. Okay, who is she kidding? The extra money is definitely worth it. Getting ahead of her bills had felt like the pipe dream of a wistful millennial before it had become an unexpected reality just last week. No way she lets some oversized preteen bully ruin this for her.

Naima is almost done putting her things into her new desk when the sound of an office door loudly closing disturbs her concentration. She looks up to see the source of the noise is none other than Yunho himself. All of the offices on this floor conveniently have floor to ceiling windows next to the door which allows people directly across from each other to see into the other person’s office. Naima is absolutely horrified at the implications of this as Yunho stares her down with a satisfied smirk. It’s obvious now that he slammed his door on purpose to get her attention. 

“This is the worst day of my life.” Naima mumbles to herself as she does her best to ignore Yunho’s gaze burning into her forehead. 

IT arrives a few tense minutes later to set up her docking station and get her started on the training modules for her new job duties. She’s taking notes on how to perform certain functions in the billing system when she receives a chat notification from her work husband Knox Rivers back in her old department. 

KR: Hey wifey how’s the swanky new digs?

NY: My office is DIRECTLY across from Yunho’s office

NY: I can literally see every move he makes and he can see mine

KR: Dreamville? My treat

Naima immediately perks up at the mention of the bar down the street that has become a favorite amongst their group of friends. It’s going to take a lot to make her feel good about working in such close proximity with Satan’s hardest working demon, but a free round of drinks is a great start.

NY: I’ll meet you downstairs at 5:30

Naima nearly bursts into tears when she steps off of the elevator and spots Knox leaning seated in the lobby playing a game on his phone. She’s always thought that he looked like Thor with his long hair and athletic build and right now a superhero is exactly what she needs. A giggle bubbles up from Naima’s throat at the red stain that creeps down Knox’s throat when she sneaks up on him to kiss his cheek. 

“Come on, big guy. There’s a Blue Magic with my name on it and I intend to collect my due.” Naimah declares, clapping Knox on his broad shoulders. 

“Lead the way, my lady.” He holds the door open like the gentleman he is with a dramatic flourish. Naima’s heart twinges a little. She misses the days when talking to him in person required her to lean back in her chair as opposed to taking an elevator ride. 

A few other people from the office are already at Dreamville when Naima and Knox arrive. They’re quickly swept up in familiar gossip and more drinks than anyone has a right to consume on a Tuesday evening. She’s engaged in a dangerous game of darts with a new employee named Xavier when a horribly familiar voice rings out above all the noise in the bar. Her head whips in the direction the voice came from, but the dart flies from her fingers anyway nearly taking some poor girl’s eye out. She yells out an apology but apparently her almost victim has had a little too much to drink herself and simply waves her off.

“Nice aim, Ravioli. An inch to the left and you would’ve scored a perfect murder.” Yunho taunts. Naima crosses her arms across her chest in indignation. Her eyes watch him intently and therefore don’t miss the way his gaze drops to get a look at her cleavage. His jaw ticks and she wants nothing more than to comment on that but Xavier interrupts by extending his hand in Yunho’s direction as he introduces himself.

“Naima, you ready to leave? I was about to call an Uber.” Knox materializes out of nowhere, phone in hand and Naima’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when she sees that it’s nearing eleven. She hadn’t realized that they’d been there for so long.

“See you tomorrow, Ravioli. Later, Knox.” She’d almost forgotten that Yunho was still here. He winks at her before he turns to walk away and, despite the fact that he can no longer see her, Naima flips him off. 

Naima is still fuming nineteen minutes later when the Uber arrives. She successfully dodges Knox’s first few questions about why she’s so mad, but he eventually wears her down. She’d forgotten that Knox becomes a wannabe psychologist that likes to talk about people’s feelings after he’s had a few drinks.

“What do you have against him? You’re probably the only person at the whole company that doesn’t get along with him.” Naima rolls her eyes skyward. Yunho the golden boy is apparently loved by everyone and it makes her seethe even more. She wracks her brain for someone at the company that she can add to her side and thankfully comes up with a name.

“Fake news! Saia in purchasing called him a douche nozzle last week and I am inclined to agree.” Naima is quite pleased with herself as she settles back into the plush seating of the SUV. Her satisfaction is short lived.

“Saia doesn’t count.” Knox counters quickly. “Yunho dated her younger sister and it ended badly so that just leaves you.”

“The night before my first day at DevTech, my friends from back home came to town to celebrate and we went to this super fancy restaurant.” The red light at the intersection bathes them both in its glow which is ironic in Naima’s opinion. 

She regales Knox with the store of how her friend Keyanna had bought her a ravioli entree to go so that she could have her favorite food on her first day. Yunho had snuck up on her when she was in the break room, startling her to the point that she ended up dropping a ravioli on her white button up. Of course the evil bastard had laughed about it till he could barely stand. She’d had to walk around for the rest of the day with the sauce stain on her shirt and Yunho has called her Ravioli every day since then.

“That…” Knox pauses to piece his thoughts together. “okay, yeah, I can’t say I’d be too fond of him either after that.” He admits.

“See? He’s an asshole and I hope he steps on a lego every day for the rest of his miserable life.” Their Uber driver, who had remained silent aside from the quick hello when they’d gotten in her car, snorts at the curse Naima speaks into Yunho’s life. 

“You know he teases you because he probably wants to fuck you right? Men aren’t as evolved as people would like to believe.” Knox points out. Naima withdraws from him as if he just told her to go fuck herself.

“If he thinks that being an asshole will grant him access to my pearly gates then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought he was.” She and the driver exchange a high five when she chimes in with her agreement. Naima makes a mental note to make sure that Knox tips her good for being an intellectual.

A wave of exhaustion washes over Naima when their apartment complex comes into view.  Thoughts of a hot shower and her fluffy pillows makes the time required to drive to their part of the complex feel like an eternity. She bids the friendly Uber driver a safe and prosperous night before all but running towards her building with a wave to Knox tossed carelessly over her shoulder as he makes his way to the building directly across from hers.

“Morning, Killer.” Yunho is way too chipper this morning especially since Naima has already had to suffer through elevator chatter about how he won a drinking contest last night. It doesn’t help that now he’s bringing up her almost homicide.

“Don’t you have something else to do? Like your job?” Yunho pretends to recoil from her remark as he follows Naima to her office. She wishes she could just haul off and smack him but that wouldn’t bode well for her professional career.

He props himself up against the wall next to her office and it’s as she unlocking her door that she registers just how close he is to her. A small shift of her weight to her right foot would push her up against his chest. Her mind drifts back to what Knox had said last night. She side eyes him cautiously before turning fully to face him head on. If anyone were to ask, Naima would blame what she does next on residual alcohol still inhibiting her rational thought.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Yunho blinks several times in shock but he recovers quickly. He flips around to take stock of the people still filtering into the office to see if anyone is within ear shot and is seemingly satisfied by the lack of people around them.

“I never pegged you to have an exhibition kink, Ravioli.” She curses herself at the way the low timbre of his voice resonates deep in her gut. The greasy smile on his face however, makes her want to puke.

“My kinks are none of your business. I’m just trying to prove a point. Now answer the question.”

“I can only imagine what that point is, but yes, I would absolutely love to ravish you.” He leans in even closer so that she can smell the minty scent of his toothpaste when he whispers in her ear. His closeness doesn’t make her recoil in the way that she thought it would and the reasoning behind that is definitely not something she’s willing to explore.

The second she gets her laptop booted up she’s tapping out a message to Knox.

NY: Lunch on me today. We need to talk.

KR: I’m all yours at 12:30 

Naima is still pondering her conversation with Knox when she steps off of the elevator to go back to her office after lunch. He seems to think that the best way to get Yunho off her back is to fuck him. According to Knox and his personal knowledge of “guy logic”, that will get her out of Yunho’s system and his annoying behavior will cease. Naima isn’t so sure about that. She’s so far inside her own head that she doesn’t even hear someone calling her name until they tap her on her shoulder. Of course, it’s Yunho. Luck is just not on her side today.

“Ravioli, you should consider getting your ears checked. I called you four times.”

“And you should consider that maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” She replies. He makes himself comfortable in her office as she drops her purse into one of the desk drawers to jump back into her work. 

“Oh, don’t be that way, Ravioli. I thought we were past this animosity thing since you practically propositioned me in the hallway.” He looks so smug as he recalls her blunder from earlier. God he’s so infuriating. Naima adds this to her running list of why men should be removed from Earth. She says nothing, choosing to simply point towards her office door. Thankfully, he’s not too dense that he can’t take a hint and returns to his own office space.

She’s settled into a steady pace with her work when her computer pings with a message. The prospect of clearing out her dashboard and possibly being able to leave early is too sweet to break her stride. Two more subsequent pings from effectively breaks her concentration.

YJ: hey

YJ: you look so cute when you’re concentrating

YJ: don’t ignore me I’m sensitive 😭

She looks through the glass into Yunho’s office to see him already staring directly at her. His head being propped up on his hands suggests that he’s been doing it for a while. He blows a kiss in her which she returns with a middle finger. She raises her computer monitors so that he’s no longer able to see her face. 

Next order of business: buying blinds

Naima groans out loud when her computer pings with yet another message. At this rate she’s going to have to stay late to get everything done. She halfway expects the new message to be another annoying attempt at conversation from Yunho but thankfully this one is from someone that she actually doesn’t mind talking to.

KR: hey did you hear that Yaya bought a new house?

NY: yeah she just texted me that she’s having a bbq this weekend to celebrate the closing

KR: you going? 👀

NY: don’t ask me a stupid question like that of course I’m going

KR: lmao okay so we can split an uber then

KR: wanna leave at like 3?

NY: yeah that’s fine with me!

Naima is so happy for Saturday to finally roll around that she could cry. Yaya had told her a few things on the menu on Wednesday and her mouth has been watering ever since. Her husband is a chef at some fancy restaurant so she knows that this will be the best food she’s had in a while. 

Knox and Naima are both slack-jawed at the absolute grandeur of Yaya’s house as their Uber driver comes to a stop in the center of the horseshoe shaped driveway. She’d neglected to mention that her new house is actually a castle. Naima frowns when she spots Yunho’s flashy Mercedes amongst the cars already parked in the driveway, but she’s determined to have a good time despite his presence. They follow the sound of music and splashing to the backyard to see a majority of the DevTech staff in the backyard. They’re quick to strip down to their bathing suits to join in on the chicken fight in the pool.

Naima has just sent Alexis from marketing flying off of Xavier’s shoulders when Yaya announces that it’s time to eat. It’s a race to get out of the pool as everyone is hustling for a good spot in line. Naima is cursing the god awful heaviness that plagues her every time she steps out of a pool when she hears a low whistle from behind her. It’s Yunho and his eyes are trained directly on her ass. Big surprise there.

“Yellow is definitely your color, Ravioli.” He produces a large, fluffy towel seemingly out of nowhere, offering it to her. She’s hesitant to accept it but a quick glance towards the now empty table that had once held an assload of towels changes her mind.

“I think I would look just as good on you.” Yunho smiles as if he’s just hit her with the best pick up line known to man. He’s gotten quite brazen with his flirtatious attempts ever since he’d exposed his sexual intentions on Monday.

“You talk a big game but everyone knows that overly confident men are just…” Naimah trails off with a pointed look at the front of Yunho’s jeans as she takes a sip of her lemonade. “overcompensating.”

Yunho pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he considers the woman in front of him with amusement. He revels in the way she swallows nervously when he closes the gap between them. Every breath she takes causes her barely covered chest to graze against his but, to her credit, she doesn’t back away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but being this close to Yunho is making her blood run hot. She chooses to blame it on her primitive instincts and not actual attraction, but even she knows that’s a lie.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to speak on things you know nothing about, Ravioli?” She can’t decide what she’s more mad at, the nickname or the insinuation that this asshole just said she’s wrong. She’s not.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to lie?” She bristles. Yunho’s sarcastic little grin only grows in response to her anger. It’s like he gets off on making her want to wring his neck.

“Admit it, Ravioli. You want this just as much as I do.” Naima gasps when Yunho suddenly wraps an arm around her wait, jerking her to him. He leans down so that he’s speaking directly into her ear and in that moment, Naima knows she’s a goner. All these months of resisting him and he’s about to break her by whispering in her ear. She wants to scream bloody murder. “All you have to do is say the word and I’ll take you higher than you’ve ever been.”

“Prove it.” Naima feels like she’s put the final nail in her own coffin. Yunho has successfully worn her down. She can’t see his face, but she doesn’t have to to know that he’s smiling like he’s just won the lottery.

“Let’s go, Ravioli.” Naima expects Knox to be disappointed to see her leaving with Yunho when she waves at him to say bye, but instead he wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively. She makes a mental note to yell at him for that later.

The ride to Yunho’s apartment is entirely too short. Naima’s shoulders are wrought with tension as she follows him up the stairs. Part of her wants to turn and run, but a much larger part is telling her to stay to see this through. Yunho has spoken quite highly of his sexual prowess and she’s more curious than not on just how much of it is true.

Yunho is on her the second she toes off her shoes by the door. One of his large hands firmly holds her jaw in place while he ravages her mouth with his own. Naima clings to his shirt to both hold him to her and ground herself in the moment. She feels lightheaded but it’s not from lack of oxygen. He uses his grip on her jaw to pry her mouth open, furthering his claim on her. The hand not covering her jaw skims across the skin above her shorts before deftly undoing the button. Her lips chase his when Yunho pulls away but he avoids her advances.

“Your lips taste so sweet. I want to taste all of you.” Naima shivers at the roughness of his voice. His normal baritone is a lot to deal with but this is downright sinful. He roughly hauls her off her feet into his arms, causing a fresh wave of arousal to flood her panties. 

She busies herself with leaving marks along the column of his neck, loving the way she can feel his gruff moans vibrating against her lips. The smack of Yunho’s hand hitting the wall to steady himself when she grinds her hips against his startles her into.

“Jesus fuck, you’re killing me, baby girl.” Naima smiles mischievously, letting her lips linger on his skin. Something about the pet name he called her makes the heat simmering in her belly grow even hotter. He tosses her on his oversized bed once he collects himself enough to finally make it to his bedroom. She watches him curiously as he turns to dig around in his nightstand. His hand reappears with several foil packets in his grip which he promptly drops onto the mattress for later use. 

Clothes fly haphazardly as Yunho hastily strips them down till nothing but his boxers remain in place. He smirks when he notices Naima’s playful grin drop when she takes in the size of the bulge he’s sporting. His large hands grip her hips, flipping her onto her stomach and rustling her around to a more favorable position. Finally satisfied with the way her face is pressed into the expensive Egyptian cotton of his bed sheets, Yunho buries his face in her dripping cunt from behind. He groans at his first taste of her and her answering whine is nothing but appreciative at the way it vibrates against her.

Naima yelps when Yunho’s large palms suddenly land on her ass with a resounding smack. He soothes the sting with tender caresses against her flesh. His tongue never leaves her entrance as he continues to coax a seemingly endless stream of arousal from her. She has the sheets in a death grip, moving her hips as if to separate herself from Yunho’s lethal tongue but wherever she goes his face simply follows. The slurping sounds of him feasting on her are absolutely obscene but she’s way too far gone to be embarrassed. She doubts that she would be able to form a coherent sentence of protest even if she wasn’t. 

“You’re so fucking wet. I could drown in this pretty pussy.” Naima keens at his filthy words, squirming restlessly as the pleasure builds and builds within her. 

It’s no surprise when she tumbles over the edge with a strangled shout, but she’d expected for him to release her once he’d made her come. Much to her surprise, Yunho doesn’t seem to have any plans of stopping. He tongues her through her orgasm, sucking gently on her clit as he thrusts two fingers into her still spasming entrance. Her knees buckle immediately from the sharp pang of oversensitivity. Yunho pulls his fingers from her long enough to land another harsh smack to her ass while his other holds her hips in place. The discomfort bleeds into pleasure until she’s racing headfirst into a second orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Let go. Give it all to me.” Naima swears she’s on the verge of blacking out when Yunho finally releases her. She collapses against the mattress when he relinquishes his grip on her, trembling from head to toe. His chest is warm against the sweat-slicked skin of her back when he covers his body with his own. He leaves chaste kisses along her shoulder as he loops an arm around her torso.

“Don’t tap out on me now, love. There’s still more fun to be had.” Yunho grinds his cock against her ass, smiling against her skin when he feels her shudder in his hold.

He pulls himself up on his knees, dragging Naima’s tired frame with him. He makes quick work of removing his boxers and rolling on one of the condoms he’d grabbed earlier. She jerks when the head of his latex covered cock bumps against her sensitive clit as he covers himself in the slick still leaking from her cunt. Yunho watches the back of her head like a hawk as he slowly presses himself against her entrance. He swears quite creatively at the way her muscles lock down on him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Yunho!” Naima drops her head to rest on her arms, doing her best to relax. He reaches underneath her to rub circles into her clits and succeeds in pushing forwards a few more inches.

His breath catches in his throat when she pulls her hips before pushing back against him to sink down a little further on his thick length. They work together until he’s finally seated balls deep inside her. Yunho’s eyes roll back in his head at the tight squeeze of her perfect cunt. He’s been inside quite a few women in his day, but this feels almost like uncharted territory. He hisses when she flexes around him involuntarily, tightening even further though he didn’t think that was even possible.

“I’m going to wreck this pussy, baby.” He punctuates his statement by withdrawing till only the tip remains, pushing back in with a purposeful thrust of his hips. Naima nearly chokes on the pitiful whine that claws its way out of her throat. “You’re gonna feel me in here for days.”

To his credit, he tries to keep his pace even and not too fast. He really does. His fingers are probably bruising her skin from how tightly he’s gripping her hips but it’s the only thing keeping him grounded and sane at this point. 

“You call this wrecking me? I could’ve done this at home with my Rabbit.” Naima can admit that Yunho’s dick was a hard pill to swallow at first, but she’s thoroughly adjusted and in need of more. Judging by the way his hips still she’s about to get just what she was aiming for. She gasps when he grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her upright so that he can whisper in her ear.

“Didn’t I tell you to watch that pretty little mouth of yours?” He practically growls in her ear as he grinds against her cervix. The pain mixes with the pleasure in a way that’s starting to make her lightheaded. 

“No, you didn’t.” She responds breathily. Her fingernails dig into his thighs painfully but Yunho doesn’t care even a little bit.

“Well, I should’ve.” He shoves her back towards the mattress not giving her even a few seconds to get her bearings before he’s rearing back to slam back into her tight heat. 

She shouts his name, squirming in his iron grip but he shows her no mercy. The time for that has past. Yunho’s hips piston in out of her at a furious pace. His gaze is fixated on the way her pussy creams on his dick with every thrust. His chest rumbles in protest when manages to pull away from him enough for his cock to fall out of her.

“Don’t run from me, Naima. You wanted this dick and now you got it.” She keens at the sound of her real name coming out of his mouth. The way his husky tone wraps around the syllables should be illegal. He fists the sheets next to her head with one hand as he uses the other to reposition her hips to allow him to slide back inside. His legs straddle both of hers, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck her into the mattress.

Naima’s fingernails are leaving crescent shaped marks in Yunho’s wrists as she holds on for dear life. She’s never been so thoroughly fucked in all her life. He’s reaching spots inside her that she didn’t even know existed until now. She’s on the verge of tears when he slows his frantic pace. He lowers himself so that his larger frame dwarfs hers once more. His arms looped under hers to hold her close to him. Yunho resumes his movements, opting for a much more relaxed cadence. The purposeful grind of his hips is just as overwhelming if not more so after the intensity from before.

“This is my pussy now.” Yunho grunts into her ear. He sucks marks into every inch of skin that his lips can reach. “No one will ever fuck you this good. Never fuck you this deep. You’re all mine.”

Naima bites down hard on a pillow that she must have grabbed at some point as she clenches around him hard. It dawns on her vaguely that Yunho hasn’t touched her clit once. She’s about to come from penetration alone. A feat she’s never been able to accomplish. The very Earth feels like it’s opened up beneath her when the orgasm that had been flirting with her senses finally washes over her. She feels him grow impossibly harder inside her as he reaches his own end. Black spots dance across her vision when the throbbing sensation of him filling the condom triggers a smaller, biting orgasm. 

She’s surprised that she manages to stay conscious if only barely. Her surprise only grows when she feels a warm towel gently wiping between her legs. Her shock reaches a fever pitch when Yunho’s fingers start working into her calf muscles. She chooses to stay silent out of fear that he might stop if caught being nice. 

“You done pretending to be asleep? Or did I actually fuck you stupid?” She can practically hear the smile in his voice as his fingers climb higher to her thighs. So much for peacefully enjoying this massage.

“I like you better when you don’t speak.” His amused laughter brings a smile to her own face despite her attempts to tamp it down. She shivers when he places a chaste kiss on the swell of her ass before going back to his ministrations on her legs. Knox is never going to let her hear the end of this once he finds out.

 She’s about to go insane. Naima’s stomach has growled twelve times in as many minutes and if she doesn’t eat something soon there will be fatal consequences. She checks her phone once more to check Knox’s location and nearly cries when it says that he’s arrived at DevTech. Just a few minutes stands between her and hot bacon, egg, and cheese croissant and an extra large caramel macchiato. 

The sight of Knox navigating the sea of cubicles with her breakfast in hand may as well be the second coming of Christ. She throws her arms around her neck the second he steps into her office. He pretends to be disgusted when she pecks him on his cheek repeatedly. Knox takes a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of her desk to talk before he goes back downstairs to work. Their conversation when Yunho suddenly burst through the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Naima is appalled at the way he’s just invited himself into her office without even having the decency to knock first.

“I should be asking you that. I asked you for the Murchison report fifteen minutes ago but I guess you were too busy with your little boy toy here to actually do your fucking job.” Knox stands, mouth fixed to defend her, but she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Knox, can you excuse us please?” Naima says sweetly. Her tone is sweet and even, but there’s a hard edge to it that tells Knox she’ll be able to handle Yunho’s temper tantrum just fine.

Naima wraps her sandwich up as she motions for Yunho to have a seat in the chair Knox has just vacated. She shrugs her shoulders when he refuses, crossing her modest office to lock the door and close the blinds she’d installed.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Jeong? Did you fall and hit your head? How dare you come to my office and insinuate that I’m not doing my job?.” He can tell that she’s working hard to keep from yelling at him but her words feel like a slap in the face either way. 

“Look, I just need the Murchison report so that I can finish some paper-” Naima doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. She has no patience for him and his bullshit.

“Cut the bullshit, Yunho. The Murchison report wouldn’t be useful for anything other than end of year reporting which we are eight months away from so what the fuck do you actually want from me?” She’s seething. DevTech has a super relaxed company culture but HR still wouldn’t take too kindly to her punching another employee in the throat.

“Why didn’t you text me back yesterday?” Naima is taken aback. She remembers receiving a few texts from him on Sunday — how he got her number she doesn’t know — but it wasn’t anything that she felt warranted a response. 

“Why would you want me to?” 

The more they talk, the more Naima realizes that they went into that bedroom with very different ideas of what was going to happen afterwards. She’d intended for it to be a one time thing for him to try and prove her wrong which he’d succeeded in doing. Nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, Yunho had other ideas that went far beyond the four walls of his bedroom. 

“This is new territory for me. I’ve never been jealous over women because I can get a new one in five minutes. I’ve never had a problem in that category.”

“Get to the point, Yunho.” She’s quickly growing bored of this conversation and she’s ready  for it to be over.

“The point is that I want to see where this goes. Are you down for that?”

“No, you’re an asshole.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s true, but I’m cute and I’ll eat you out till you cry so what’s it gonna be?” He looks so hopeful that part of Naima wants to reject him again just to mess with him, but she’s not totally heartless. She decides to make him a deal.

“I’ll give you one week and then we’ll go from there now about this eating out business…” She trails off, looking at him suggestively. 

“Come home with me after work and I’ll give you what you want and more.” The mischievous grin on his face promises another day of limping around and Naima is excited to say the least. 

“You’ve got a deal. Now get out of my office.” She deadpans as she starts to unwrap the breakfast sandwich she hadn’t been able to finish earlier. He catches her off guard when he swoops in to steal a kiss from her lips as his “parting gift”. 

“Later, Ravioli.” 

She touches her fingers to her lips as she watches him walk back to his own office through her open door. It’s going to be an interesting week.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #2- Yet Another Robot Falls Out of the Sky

Issue #2 opens with a phone call between Brainstorm and Rodimus, and it’s going well, all things considered. They only get sidetracked twice in their 30 second conversation, which is honestly pretty good for them.

Brainstorm and Perceptor have managed to suss out what exactly happened to make the quantum generators explode as fantastically as they did. Brainstorm’s calling now as opposed to after all the testing Perceptor wants to do, because he’s impatient and is so self-assured that he’s already got the answer, it might actually kill him to wait.

Yep, Brainstorm’s that guy who walks around talking on speakerphone in the middle of work. Is he doing it to keep Perceptor in the loop while he’s busy working on the generators? If he is, he’ll never admit it, because he’s too tsundere to admit he wants to be noticed by his science senpai.

Brainstorm, much like a majority of the Lost Light crew, has a complicated relationship with relationships.

Rodimus tells Brainstorm to get his butt out in the field, so they can find the rest of the ‘bots who got thrown through the stratosphere after the quantum jump, then takes another call from Chromedome, who’s over with Rewind and Hound pulling Cyclonus out of a lake. Chromedome and Rewind have run into the guy who committed an act of terror on their former place of employment twice in the last few hours. We’ll see just how the hell he wound up there a bit later on. What’s important in the here and now is the fact that we’ve gotten our first glimpse at Rewind’s magic color-changing pants.

Issue #1

Issue #2

What a strange and terrible power this tiny robot holds.

Up in the sky, a small yellow ship vops into existence from a portal that looks very similar to the one the Lost Light went through during their quantum oopsie. Inside, we find a guy who apparently fell asleep while holding a lit weld torch and a gun. He’s got no idea what’s going on, or who he is, or that he’s in grave danger.

Honestly, not the WORST name I’ve ever heard out of Transformers.

No, actually, that’s not his name, but rather some repressed trauma trying to work its way back up to the surface. His real name is Skids, and he’s just kind of making it up as he goes at this point, as he sets the ship to crash into the planet below and jumps out.

Now that’s just gratuitous.

This is about par for the course when it comes to Skids- he’s just so very extra, all the time.

The ship crashes behind him, and it would appear that vague sense of paranoia was completely justified, as the burning remains reconstitute themselves into multiple giant robots with swords.

So we’re gonna have to deal with that.

Back over on the Lost Light, Rung’s getting patched up by Ratchet, and we get our first taste of his perpetual forgettability. Of course, Rung knows who Ratchet is, because everyone does, and butters him up for no real reason other than he can, I suppose. Or rather, because Roberts was feeling a bit cruel.

Twist the knife a little more, why don’t you?

Of course, Rung’s assumptions are quickly dashed against the rocks, as Ratchet proceeds to loosen up his sticky fingers by smashing his hand with a mallet right beside him.

As Ratchet reattaches Rung’s arm, they get to talking about their new friend, Tailgate, who’s still passed out. Swerve’s watching over him, because he’s just a nice guy like that.

That’s the smallest Tailgate’s feet will ever be.

Drift calls the medical bay to let him know that they’ll be bringing in the guys who fell out of the ship, so Ratchet should put on a smile so they’ll feel better. This, of course, doesn’t sit well with Ratchet, who starts griping about Drift’s newfound hippy-dippy state of mind, a result of him having almost died back during the Chaos storyline. Swerve, never one to miss out on a good trash-talk session, starts feeding the fire, until Ratchet gets distracted and burns Rung by mistake.

Then Whirl wakes up and starts strangling people.

Whirl wasn’t meant to be on board this ship, and he probably hasn’t seen Rung since he got booted from the Wreckers, so waking up from a fight still raring to go and finding the guy who tried to make him connect with his Feelings™ hovering over him was bound to start some nonsense.

Ratchet tries to talk him down again, with Swerve “assisting”, but nothing seems to be getting through to Whirl until Rung threatens him with prison time. Whirl doesn’t like prison, to put it lightly, so he snaps out of his stupor, drops Rung, and leaves the medibay. No one is particularly sad to see him go.

All this commotion must have woken up Tailgate, who’s introduced to the others. He asks if he’s on board the Ark- you know, the one from roughly six million years ago- and suddenly all the weirdly ancient internal parts Ratchet found inside him start making a lot more sense. Swerve bribes Ratchet with food to get to be the one to break the news to Tailgate.

It goes about as well as one could expect.

Back over with Skids, we see that not everyone survived the fall through the stratosphere, as the burning bodies of Hyperion and Polaris sit in the foreground as Skids prepares to face off with the giant yellow robots.

Corpse desecration! Fun for the whole family!

Polaris slams into one of the yellow robots. Thinking quickly, Skids makes a makeshift bomb out of Polaris and a gun, blasting his fuel tank and making a very big explosion.

There’s still another robot to deal with, but it looked pretty cool.

Back on the Lost Light, Cyclonus seems to have recovered from his dip in the lake, and he’s finally getting his meeting with Rodimus.

They’re so awkward. I thought you two were supposed to cool.

Also, major dumbass points to Cyclonus for tying himself to the roof of the ship like camping gear on the top of a family sedan, and making it through a goddamned quantum jump.

Here we get a glimpse at the thought process behind Rodimus even bothering to be in the same room as this guy: Cyclonus turning on Galvatron back in Chaos probably gave him and Optimus an extra few seconds to save the entirety of reality from the Dead Universe. That’s a pretty big solid, and he recognizes that. However, there’s still the whole Kimia thing, which was pretty un-chill of Cyclonus to have been a part of.

It probably doesn’t help that the Venn diagram for “Lost Light crew-members” and “dudes who were on Kimia when shit went down” is practically a circle.

Yeah, Cyclonus kind of isn’t allowed to have friends until issue #21.

Cyclonus isn’t going to apologize for what happened on Kimia, because- and this is honestly a pretty fair point- virtually everyone on this friggin’ ship is a war criminal and ought to know the score by now. War is hell, y’all. He doesn’t want a fight, he just wants to cruise around on this space-yacht and chill out for a little while.

Like, perhaps love?

Nah, that’s crazy-talk. He’s too stoic and emotionally-dead inside for all that.

Rodimus hears him out, and agrees to let him stay on the ship, on the condition that he’s going to have to deal with Rodimus being the guy who’s going to judge his every move, like an easily-disappointed father. Rodimus will be Cyclonus’ Optimus.

Ultra Magnus comes in to add that if Cyclonus screws up, he’ll be breaking out the heavy hammer of justice to pound him flat.

Also, he brought Whirl. It’s time for Cyclonus and him to kiss and make up.

What a beautiful start to this friendship.

Back outside, Swerve’s accompanying Tailgate on a cool-down walk, so he doesn’t pass out due to stress twice in a 24-hour period. He’s probably uncomfortable when people start crying, which is a staple of the Tailgate-brand freakout.

I looked into this, and unless I missed something, the “overheating optical filaments due to emotional stress fizzing up and away from the eye” thing is the only real instance of Transformers being able to cry. Roberts really made the robots have a physiological response equivalent to crying so he could hurt them more thoroughly.

As they walk, Swerve starts asking questions, because he’s incapable of shutting up- literally, he has logorrhea. He asks to see Tailgate’s alt-mode, what he did for a living before he fell in the hole, what the ruined decal on his arm used to say, and it turns out that Tailgate’s a pretty interesting little dude. He was on a bomb disposal squad with the Primal Vanguard.

The two of them catch sight of Rewind and Chromedome on a cliff, and Swerve makes introductions, comparing the pair to Rack’n’Ruin in terms of closeness, Rack’n’Ruin being two robots who share a lower body. 

You know, when it’s put like that it sounds a bit dirty, doesn’t it?

Skids falls into the scene, and demands that someone take the Inhibitor Claw off of his back. Chromedome obliges, because he’s the only one tall enough to reach Skids’ upper body. Once the thing’s off, Skids’ can activate his onboard weaponry, which he does with aplomb.

Chromedome, you fool! You’ve made him too cool!

As Skids kicks the ass of this mystery ‘bot, more of his memories come back, until all he’s missing is the short-term stuff. Once he’s done, everyone tells him how awesome he is, Swerve having maybe fallen in love just a bit, as he asks just what Skids’ whole deal is.

Skids is a theoretician, which means he forms/develops/studies the theoretical framework of a subject. I can’t imagine that pays too well, maybe that’s why he’s moonlighting as a hired gun or whatever.

Chromedome seems to know Skids, and invites him back to the Lost Light so they can try and figure out what exactly is going on with his brain, and also that gun that he’s been holding in his hand this entire time, but never noticed or used.

Yeah, that one.

Tailgate’s wandered off to get a closer look at the robot Skids annihilated, getting its last words: nineteen eighty-four. Guess he really likes Orson Welles as an author.

The Lost Light takes off, and as everyone congregates on the bridge, Rodimus wonders just what the hell he’s going to say to them all. Between Ultra Magnus’ bleak starkness and Drift’s blindingly sunshiney outlook, he figures that he’ll just wing it.

Down below, Swerve’s managed to convince Tailgate to try transforming, by way of talking his ear off, then walks away the moment he begins the conversion- he’s a little stiff, so it’s going to take a minute. Swerve starts chatting Skids up and poking him in the ass, because that’s what you do when you want to be friends with someone. And Swerve really, really wants to be friends with Skids.

Skids doesn’t really cotton to this whole questing thing the Lost Light’s trying to do, and asks for a little more clarification on just what exactly they’re trying to accomplish. He’s not super impressed with the information once he has it.

Rodimus, having collected himself enough to face the crew, announces the deaths of Ore, Polaris, and Hyperion, and that while their collective passing is very sad, they’ve got to press on with their journey. Their next scheduled stop is Crystal City, once they figure out where the hell that quantum explosion dumped them.

Whirl brings up the fact that every good adventure team has a sweet name. Swerve tries to pull a Chaos Theory Optimus and take back the suffix -cons by calling themselves the Crusadercons, but nobody seems too keen on that idea. Don’t worry, Swerve, you’ll get there one day.

While the boys try to name themselves, Rodimus is given the phone. Red Alert’s on the line, and he’s freaking out, because there’s a murderous monster on board the ship.

You can tell the art style hasn’t settled yet, because they’re still photoshopping the insignias on after the fact.

A sparkeater is a major problem, but it’ll have to wait until next month to be dealt with, because that’s our cliffhanger ending for this issue.

[fallen029]

Dream Again

It was probably the calmest day the guildhall had experienced since it's changing of hands. Everyone was around, for weeks it felt like, after Makarov handed over the hall to his grandson. It seemed like everyone equally wanted to be certain this was truly the case, as well as make it in good with their new master.

Which was great for business. Sort of. Mirajane and Kinana scored big in tips, at least, which seemed to please both of them, but any time the guild swelled to capacity, especially for extended days, it seemed to take a rather heavy toll on them both. Even with Lisanna helping out around the bar for the past week, it had just been hectic and overwhelming and things were finally, finally calming down.

"Good thing," Cana griped at one point during the day when Kinana mentioned, in slight elation, the slow, normal pace of the bar that day. "I was gonna have to find somewhere else to drink."

"Oh, no," Laxus grumbled as he walked passed, some papers in his hand that he was going to have to go over, just boring, Master stuff that he definitely wasn't hating already, nope, no way. "How would we ever recover?"

He was just about a month in as Fairy Tail's one and only Master, but already, Laxus was becoming disillusioned. Freed, Ever, and Bickslow held off on going on jobs for as long as possible, to bask in the glory of their idol, living his realized dream, but fuck, they had bills to pay and were all going out on a job that once upon a time, Laxus would have accompanied them on. Not anymore though. Now he had to sit around the dusty old guildhall and do actual paperwork and fuck, following your dreams was a load of crock, a trap, presented to young children by miserable adults who hoped to one day make those children just as miserable.

Yes.

It was the only answer.

"I'm gonna go on break," Mirajane called out to Kinana though, from across the mostly empty bar then, right next to Laxus' ear as she sat down a tall mug of ale in front of the man. He'd have been annoyed by her noisiness, but it hardly even phased him through his headphones.

Not that the woman noticed his glare, anyways, as he snatched up his mug. She was far too busy prancing away, in a hall finally not filled to the brim, and oh, she loved seeing all her friends and making new ones, but it felt so good to be (mostly) alone in her guildhall again,.

Well, Master's guildhall.

By which she meant Master Laxus.

Of course.

She was definitely not struggling with referring to him this way. Not at all.

Laxus forgot about the woman, anyways, for a few minutes as he found himself rather busy with the papers before him. It was just all so much and did the old man really read all this shit? No. No way. Who did he have read it for him?

Frowning, he lifted his head and searched around for Mirajane once more, taking a moment to place where she'd gotten off to. He saw Kinana, behind the bar alone now, and while she had become rather competent in that, he wasn't so sure she was, uh, well, too versed in much else. Not that Mirajane ever seemed to be either, but if she got the old man by these past few years, then…

There she was.

Over on the stage.

Not standing on it. Rather, Mirajane was seated on the edge, legs hanging over it as she sat there with her guitar in her hands, strumming softly and most inaudibly, he imagined. His headphones blocked out anything, anyways, if she was being very loud. Slipping one off his ear, he noticed less her soft singing voice and more the lack of chatter from the local drunks and slackers, who'd fallen silent in order to appreciate the miniature concert they were being treated with currently. It felt almost eerie, really, as Laxus found himself slipping the other headphone off as well, so he could hear it, what the others were experiencing then.

It felt so different. Usually. Soothing, yes, when Mirajane would get up there on the stage and sing to them, but the vibe was strange now with so few people. There was always just a bit of soft talking in the background, some complaints from someone like Gajeel, who thought they could do better, or jealousy from certain women, over how easily Mirajane swayed everyone's attention. The clattering of mugs or even just the collective heaviness a room has, when filled with people, as opposed to the near emptiness it had now.

Mirajane almost seemed oblivious to the others now, as she sang and strummed through her break, and she really didn't have that many eyes on her, not really, as the drunks laid with their heads down, considering her words and melody as they drank their lives away, and the slackers puttered around, considering the talents they refused to hone in such a way. Other than Kinana walking about the small amount of assembled people in the tiny bar, the only sound was Mirajane, the only place to look was Mirajane, and Laxus felt his heart stop, felt like a teenager again, when she glanced up at the exactly right moment to catch his dark eyes with her bright blues, only for the woman to wink, maybe, he thought, smile at least, and the moment was ruined.

Because someone new came into the bar, a loud, rowdy team, which strummed up the bar once once more with chatter and gripes and life, really. Not that Mirajane had sucked the last thing out. No. But the life she breathed into things was just so...tranquil.

And Laxus never experienced anything like that. Ever. How could he? Going from an S-Class wizard, taking the toughest jobs in the land, to dealing with the headaches of a popular guild's master, Laxus was never going to know peace again.

So he sought it out.

It was easy enough, to request Mirajane stick around a bit, after closing. To help him with something. Kinana was the only other person who caught the remark and, honestly, she seemed thankful to be able to escape to dorm and escape the hustle and bustle of the bar. Even on a slow day, sometimes all you wanted was to get out of the place.

Mirajane was dutiful as ever though and had honestly planned on doing some extra closing duties that night anyways and agreed. When the man came out of his office however, after the last straggler had been pushed out the door, she was a bit surprised by his request.

"I want," he told the woman simply, "you to sing me a song."

"Okay," she sighed, tired, but game. Still, she continued to scrub at the glass in her hand as she began to sing, which made the man frown and put it on a quick halt.

"No, Mira," he sighed some with a shake of his head before nodding at the stage. "Up there. With your guitar. Like you were today. I, uh, well… I kinda was into that."

She giggled then, the woman did, as she set the mug down. But it wasn't at him. Rather with him, maybe, as Laxus found himself smiling as well.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, her eyes alight and the man found himself nodding.

"Yeah."

"Well, Master," she began as she was quick to do as requested, skipping right around the bar and over to the stage, "you could have just invited me over. A private show is much better in your home."

"No, demon, you don't get it." He was following her. "And don't call me that. Right now."

"I have to, Lax," she told him and she sounded more serious then. "If I'm ever gonna be consistent-"

"Fuck consistency." He took a seat nearest to the stage, sitting so he was facing her, hunched over with his chin rested in his palms. "I'm not your fucking master."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What are you then, huh?"

"Demon-"

"Say it." She took her own seat, there, right across from him, on the edge of the stage. She hardly put any effort into it, just waved her hands slightly and it appeared, summoned from some sort of reequip space, her pink acoustic guitar. But she didn't move to strum a single note, didn't form a single chord over any fret as she instead stared the man dead in the eyes. "What do you want me to call you?"

Laxus didn't like it. When she thought she had power over him. Unfortunately, however, he wanted something from her then and if that meant that he was going to have to give in a little…

"I'm your dragon," he told her simply, flatly, but it was enough to get a bright grin out of the woman and, maybe, his face didn't look as glum as it typically did. "What else would you call me?"

"Nothing, dragon," she practically sang and it took a few more seconds before she'd composed herself enough to finally return the request.

They had been dating for only a few months when Makarov approached him about turning the guildhall over. It wasn't like it was a complete secret. Just not something that was spoken about. Back then. Mira dated a lot of people. Laxus too. It made sense that they'd cross over from time to time. They were both high up mages, not only in their own guild, but in the country overall. A lot of overlap in their circles. And for two young people who never seemed to interested in being tied down, the idea that they could occasionally entertain one another wasn't wholly impossible. Interesting, maybe, to certain ears, but now felt so commonplace that it hardly was so.

It was around the time that Makarov offered up the hall though that Laxus felt himself getting a bit more serious about the woman. When he approached her about it though, as well as his impending promotion, she was quick to agree, but only conditionally.

"Let's not tell anyone. Okay? About how close we are now? Let's just keep things normal." And she smiled at him, that same one that could get him to do just about anything. "I wanna be with you too, dragon, only you, but… Once you become Master, it'll be different. People will treat you differently. Let's just...wait it out a bit, okay? And keep it a secret. Alright?"

He only brushed her soft white hair behind one of her ears and agreed. Keeping secrets with a demon was the exact kind of nonsense he loved to find himself in.

Their nights spent together were sporadic, but wonderful when they came, and Laxus knew once things calmed down around the bar, they could probably send Kinana home early most nights after things cleared out, only to spend even more time together. But tonight, in that moment, as she sang to him so soft and sweet, Laxus found himself less falling in love with her and more getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"How'd you do it, demon?" he asked softly when the first song came to an end. As the woman stared at him inquisitively, Laxus only continued, "How'd you give up on your dreams?"

"What do you mean, silly?" she asked with a bit of a frown. "What dream?"

"You know." He nodded then, at her in general, but specifically what she was holding. "You wanted to be a singer, didn't you? You're awfully good. You couldda at least given it a try. A real try. And it mightta meant something." Before she could comment though, he shook his head and said, "But you never did. You play for these losers in the bar, fine, and you play for me, when I ask you to, but-"

"Do you think, so?" she asked, looking up then, as if thinking. "That I couldda been something?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe," she agreed and it was the most either would know about it. Sighing some, she said, "But then I wouldn't be here right now."

"I know."

"We probably wouldn't have dated."

"Yeah, probably not."

"Then-"

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing you didn't, Mira," he told her then. "I think it's a good thing, even. I just...when it's presented to you, and you're that close to it, when you have a chance at it...how do you not even reach for it? Or try?"

"Laxus, I don't think I understand."

He just made a face as he admitted, "Being Master blows."

"You've been Master for, at most, a month."

"And it's sucked. I can't go out on jobs, I gotta do paperwork all the time, turns out I can't even kick morons like Natsu or Erza outta my guild cause they're strong or whatever and would go join someone else and make us not strong-"

"These sound like really petty problems you should have realized would happen before you even said yes."

"I just," he finished then, "thought that I would feel something. I mean, I did feel something. That first day. And the second. I felt something really nice, that third night, when you came by my place-"

"It was a good night."

"But now… Fuck, I dunno." He looked off. "Same thing happened when I first got S-Class. I toiled for that shit, then I got it and after… Why do we chase these big, fantastical ideas and concepts, just for these stupid fleeting moments? Nothing good ever lasts."

"Don't say that." She even made a face, setting her guitar to the side then. "Seriously. It's kinda a shitty thing to say to your girlfriend."

Bowing his head, Laxus told her, "What's the point, huh? In anything? It's all so fucking fleeting."

"That's because you're not at the rewarding parts yet, silly." Jumping up then, she made her way over to the man. As she rested as hand on his shoulder, she remarked, "The good things are yet to come. Like, the first time you get to crown someone S-Class. Someone who toiled and worked for it, just like you. The first time you and your guild, your mages, save the entire planet. You know that's coming. We're Fairy Tail, dragon, no matter whose Master."

"Demon-"

"The first time some scrawny little kid that you took in off the street masters a spell or when a lowly mage you helped find their way completes a really tough job..." Mira trailed off, looking away from him then, a smile tugging at her lips. "You completed a dream, fine, Laxus, if that's what you wanna call it, but there's more to it than that. You keep dreaming. You know? Is this really all you want to do with your life? 'cause at one time, all I could dream about was becoming S-Class too. And you know what? It came and went and I wanted something else. Yes, at one time, I wanted to be a super star, with my guitar, and I wanted everyone to know my name and sing my songs, but...I grew up. And passed that. I have different dreams now. So many. And you do too. Don't you?"

He muttered some stuff then, under his breath, while she just giggled over him.

"I wanna buy a house one day."

"You've already done that," he pointed out, glancing up at her.

"No, with...someone. Not my brother and sister. Like a nice place." She dropped her hand from his shoulder. "And I wanna have kids. Or at least one. Maybe. Sometimes I think I'd be happier, you know, if Elf and Lisanna just did that instead? Had the kids? And I could be the cool aunt. And I've always dreamed of...well… Maybe I shouldn't say it."

"What? Huh?" He lifted his head fully then. "To get married? To a man with a comfortable salary? Big wedding? You can tell me. Scared of jinxing our relationship or something?"

"That's...not big dream, but you go for that comfortably employed man, Lax."

"Demon-"

"I've just always wanted to say, 'Fuck it,'" she told him then, her tone far too bright for the words spewing from her mouth. Hand slowly falling from his shoulder, she turned from the man then as she looked around the hall in wonder. "I wanna just walk out the door and it not matter. Any of it. Any of them. I'd just...not care about this place anymore. What happened to it. I mean, I know I would eventually. That'd I'd come back sometime. But could you imagine it? What it would mean? To not be a Fairy anymore? Ever again? Really, ever again? Not because the guild gets destroyed or something awful like that, but just because...you chose it. Something different. In your life. And there'd be no hard feelings? Just a sense of completion? And you could move on to the next portion of your life? Finally?"

Slowly, Laxus head fell again, about the same time Mirajane let out the breath she'd been holding in.

"I think," he told her then, "that maybe, it wouldn't really matter. If you did walk away. Tomorrow. Right now, even. Or if I gave up being Master today and went back on S-Class jobs. We still wouldn't be happy. Not really. No happier, I mean, I guess. You just always want something else. It's illusive. Maybe even not real. Really being happy. It never really comes, does it?"

Mira considered his words, far too pessimistic for her daytime, in front of the others persona, but so late at night, crossing over into early morning, it didn't make her frown. Instead it just made her head tilt a bit as she thought.

"I'm happy when I'm with you," she offered him. "Always."

"Yeah," he agreed, "but what happens when you're not?"

"I break your heart, dragon. What else?"

He didn't want to laugh. He relaly didn't. But it just fell out of him, full bellied and deep, so hard that it almost hurt, while Mirajane smirked victoriously over him, the man's laughter echoing in the otherwise completely, truly empty guildhall.

Eventually, when his laughter died down, she turned and headed back over to the stage to take a seat once more.

"Another song, Master?" she asked and his chest hurt too much from laughter to correct her, meaning all he could do was nod.

Her singing and guitar sounded much better to him, than his own laughter had, reverberating in the empty guildhall, and it felt like it had only just began, four songs later, when Mirajane seemed to be growing tired and he knew he had to let her go, even if it was just for the night, as they both needed their rest.

"Maybe, dragon," she yawned to him when they parted, half an hour later, just outside her quiet little home she shared with her siblings, him not walking her all the way to the porch, but rather just standing there, watching her go up it from the sidewalk, "we'll just always be happy with one another. Like how I always will be, with Lisanna and Elf, and you'll always be happy with the Thunder Legion."

And it felt so good, so very good, to smile truly for the woman and only the woman, as he nodded his head, only turning his back once she was safely in the house.

"Maybe, demon," he whispered in parting, if only for a few hours. "Maybe."

[goodlucktai]

grace requires nothing of me

good omens pairing: aziraphale/crowley word count: 3604 title borrowed from one by sleeping at last part 2 of the is there a better bet than love? series read on ao3

x

Crowley is doing a good job of dithering without looking like he’s dithering, slouched in the doorway as though he isn’t sure of his welcome, or he isn’t sure Aziraphale has thought this through.

Which is silly. Aziraphale has thought this through more than once.

“Don’t fuss,” the angel chides lightly. “Come here.”

Which is all it takes to coax the demon the rest of the way inside, though he crosses the room to the bed with a grumble. Aziraphale helps him out of his jacket, and then his silk shirt, and then the undershirt beneath that, and then a tanktop. He has to bite on the edge of an amused smile, or else Crowley will sulk, but he thinks its rather cute of his snake to seek that extra bit of warmth in every nook and corner he might find it.

“It is not,” Crowley gripes aloud, reading his mind with the ease of someone who has known and loved Aziraphale for more than six thousand years. He’s faced resolutely away and his bare shoulders are hunched, the skin there and on the tips of his ears turning a telling pink. “I’m cold-blooded, angel. Cute has nothing to do with it.”

“Of course not, dear,” Aziraphale capitulates easily. He can afford to surrender these little victories when he’s already won the greater prize. It’s an effort to keep his hands to himself in his eagerness. “May I see them now?”

Plucking anxiously at his trousers, Crowley ducks his head in what could have been a nod, except he doesn’t lift it again. And then he brings out his wings, filling the room like a dark rush of water.

(Crowley’s wings are black, yes, but that’s no way to judge a fellow’s character. Not all angel wings are white, the way humans tend to depict them in their art and literature; Gabriel’s are dove gray, and Uriel’s are shining gold. The Morningstar, before he Fell, had wings of every color. Aziraphale’s pale feathers, against the iridescent black and blues of Crowley’s, feel rather plain.

But--

Look at you, Crowley will say, awed. He will touch the faun brown and off-white cream with a reverence he keeps a secret all the rest of the time, with hands that are much too generous to belong to a proper demon. His eyes will linger on Aziraphale’s face, as though they can’t help themselves.

And Aziraphale will feel, for a welcome change, beautiful.)

But along with the familiar wings, as was their agreement, Crowley manifested the ruined skin that Aziraphale has never seen, the mark of a fallen angel that he has kept carefully hidden for all these years.

They cut across the long lines of his back, the raised burns eating from the smooth skin of his shoulder blades with jagged teeth.

Aziraphale wants to touch, to soothe them, but he doesn’t quite dare.

His dearest is tense and still; he hasn’t taken a breath since he bared his back. He is braced for something, it seems, something that he expects will hurt.

He hides his scars like he hides his eyes, and Aziraphale’s heart is so full it aches, fragile human thing that it is. He can’t bear to think of Crowley carrying this wound for so long, this angry, ancient, anguished thing.

And so he leans forward and presses his lips to Crowley’s shoulder, kisses the ruins of him so there can be no mistake. Crowley’s feathers are soft in Aziraphale’s hands, and beneath them, so are the scars.

“Look at you,” Aziraphale tells him, returning an old favor. “You’re perfect, you know. Just as you are. All that you are.”

He could stand to say it more, it seems. Crowley gropes blindly behind him until he finds one of Aziraphale’s hands and then he holds on as though he’s terrified he might fall again, fingers trembling, grip tight enough to bruise. Aziraphale hushes him, and draws him back until he’s safe in the circle of Aziraphale’s arms, the safest creature to be found on the whole of the earth with how far and how fiercely Aziraphale would go to protect him.

Aziraphale thinks the world could end around them, and his own wings could burn, and all else could be lost, and still he would be right here, holding his love.

“Perfect,” he presses against Crowley’s hair. “You’re perfect.”

#

It’s another intimate evening, another warm night in the bedroom above the bookshop, when Aziraphale asks, “Did it hurt?”

Crowley is pliant against his side, dozing with his eyes half-open because he sometimes forgets his eyelids when he’s sleepy. He hums at the feel of Aziraphale’s fingers brushing against the side of his face, tilting his head to chase the warmth.

“Did what hurt?”

“The Fall.”

As soon as the question is out, Aziraphale wishes he could take it back. He’s not sure he can bear the answer. He doesn’t want Crowley to have hurt back then, and doesn’t want him to hurt now, and isn’t sure where he found such thoughtless daring to broach the subject they’ve both avoided for millennia.

But after a brief pause, Crowley’s frozen surprise thaws, and his stiff, guarded lines smooth out. The slight weight of him goes boneless again as Aziraphale cards rueful fingers into his hair.  

“Must have done,” he murmurs. “Don’t really remember.”

Aziraphale loses his breath in a rush, relieved.

“What a mercy,” he says, and gathers Crowley up for a kiss. The demon whines, but resettles quickly enough atop Aziraphale’s chest-- always an opportunist, Aziraphale thinks wryly-- and then they are eager to distract one another from maudlin thoughts.

(He is right about the mercy, though he doesn’t know it yet.)

#

Nanael slices their hand open with a letter opener, somehow, bleeding from the meat of their palm. They stand there looking at the alarming swell of blood with an expression of mild surprise.

Aziraphale isn’t proud that his knee-jerk reaction is to snatch the rest of his mail out of the way of the drip. He assumes the younger angel is going to miracle the hurt away, and forgets how foreign life on earth is to them at large.

Thankfully, Crowley remembers.

“Nice one, Feathers,” he snaps, rounding the counter. He shoves his glasses up to his forehead, eyes absurdly yellow in the low light of the shop. “You trying to get yourself discorporated? Let me see.”

Nanael’s corporeal form is that of a young man in his early twenties, but the way they waffle beneath Crowley’s disapproval puts Aziraphale in mind of a scolded child. And really, they’re not even a whole millennia old.

Crowley takes them by the wrist and glares at the offending slice in their hand. With a gentle prod of his thumb, he miracles the hurt away.

Aziraphale intervenes then, to save his estranged little sibling what is probably shaping up to be a lengthy lecture, since Crowley’s caring tends to manifest that way; as though coughing up enough sharp edges will be enough to hide his soft heart. Aziraphale sets his mail aside and pats Crowley on the elbow, taking the wind out of his sails with a disarming smile.

“Well done, my dear, as always. Now what do you say about pulling the car around, hm? It’s well past time for lunch, and I’m rather in the mood for Greek.”

When the demon has gone, slouching out of the store with a surly expression that doesn’t fool Aziraphale in the slightest and hasn’t done since that first day in the garden, he gives Nanael a firm look.

“You must be more careful. Heaven isn’t in the business of handing out corporations freely, and especially not after clumsy mishaps. You’re doing yourself no favors, hanging around here as much as you do, so you really should strive to take caution.”

He doesn’t add anything about all the many clumsy mishaps of his own. He was only spared them, like Nanael was, by Crowley’s timely arrival and flagrant disregard for company policy, and he would prefer Nanael to abide by a better precedent. They can’t always count on Crowley to bail them out of trouble, even if he always has before.

But Nanael is staring at him, their hand still open and outstretched in front of them. They haven’t moved since Crowley was beside them. Their dark eyes are mystified.

“How did he do that?” they ask. “Demons can’t do that.”

Aziraphale frowns. “Nanael, whatever rot they’ve been feeding you Upstairs about the Fallen, I can assure you-- “

“No, not-- I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t mean he wouldn’t, I mean he can’t.” The angel touches their healed palm, folding careful fingers around where the cut sat moments ago, as though it’s a secret they should hide. “You need Grace to perform miracles. The Fallen are cut off from the Host, they can’t access that anymore. Demon’s powers are anti-miracles, really. They can’t do purely good.” They squint at Aziraphale, suspicion taking the place of confusion. “How don’t you know all this? You’ve been down here forever.”

Aziraphale doesn’t say there is a lot to learn down here, and I am still learning. He doesn’t say how much of that can you believe to be true, when your side and theirs won’t take the time to understand each other? He doesn’t say I have only known one demon, and he has always been good.

He looks at his young friend and listens to the sound of a Bentley honking impatiently outside the shop and doesn’t say anything at all. He’s thinking, instead.

About the Arrangement, about the years of trading an unwanted workload back and forth to make it more bearable, about the countless miracles under Aziraphale’s name that could actually be credited to a demon who shouldn’t have been capable of them.

About their charade after Armageddon, when they chose their faces wisely. He has walked in Crowley’s shape, he has known him down to the bone and sinew and soul. He thinks, surely, he would have felt the sudden absence of the Host as keenly as a puppet with its strings cut during every second of their charade. He thinks, surely, he would have recognized an emptiness where that light should have been, having lived with it since God breathed life into him eons ago.

But he didn’t notice anything missing at all.

#

(Who is there to compare Crowley to? What source is there for Aziraphale to draw understanding from? There has never been anyone like his love, not in all the turns of the earth.

Someone who Fell, not out of spite or malice, but hungry curiosity and countless unanswered questions; who spent whole afternoons with those humans in that garden he loved, who was fond of Eve and gave her the tool she needed to make her own choices because he saw himself in her endless, fearless wondering; who played the hand he was dealt without ever giving into bitterness or cruelty the way of the other angels in Hell, looking instead upon the humans with the amused affection and secondhand delight of an estranged uncle or a displaced step-sibling.

Aziraphale remembers a winter afternoon in 1783, all but forgotten after that close call during the Reign of Terror a decade later, when Crowley burst into his flat with shining eyes and mussed hair and clothes still rumpled from travel.

“They’re flying, angel!” he’d said, buoyed by his own disbelief and wonder and ecstatic, aching pride. “Two brothers in Annonay, they’ve built a balloon! They were only up for a few minutes, but they really flew!”

And how, Aziraphale thought back then, has thought a hundred times since, how could he have Fallen? This bright and beautiful thing? As close to blasphemy as he dared venture in those days, Aziraphale would look at Crowley with love a vast and painful secret in his heart and wonder how.)

#

Aziraphale has never been one to spring into action, tending instead towards study and reflection, and in that vein he might have sat on these new and alarming questions for years if left to his own devices.

But interference came in the form of a gaggle of angels, following Nanael back to Soho to see what they were getting up to in all these days spent on earth. They were stricken to find themselves cornered in the bookstore, as though they had betrayed the beloved place somehow. When they look around for help, they look to Crowley first.

He doesn’t disappoint.

“This isn’t a daycare center,” he says blithely. He’s still lounging, propped up on his elbows behind Aziraphale’s counter, but the lanky, lazy lines of his body are deceptive. “We’ve got all the holy feather dusters around here that I can stand, so you lot can see yourselves out now.”

Aziraphale taps his fingers against the table, hot ire rising like a tide inside him. It has barely been three years since the apocalypse that wasn’t, three years since their respective former bosses agreed to leave them be, and they can’t even begin to enjoy retirement.

The angels aren’t sense-blind, and seem wary to encroach any further into Aziraphale’s territory. But they are so like Nanael was those years ago when they first stood inside the door and glared at Crowley with an eternity of borrowed hatred they didn’t even understand, carried like a mantle or an inheritance they never learned how to leave behind.

It rankles, to have Crowley looked at like that. Here, of all places, in this corner of the world that belongs to them, where they have plotted and promised and argued and loved, always together.

Aziraphale says, with an edge of anger, “The three of you should leave.”

Three, not four. Nanael looks hopelessly gratified not to be included in that number, and slinks a little closer to the counter. One of Nanael’s sisters follows, her hand clenched in the pocket of a sensible sweater with nonsensical pom-poms hanging from the drawstrings.

“If the company of a demon did this to you, it can do it anyone,” she says. “I won’t allow anyone else to Fall.”

Her heart is in the right place, Aziraphale will grudgingly allow, much, much later. But her hand, fisted around a small bottle of enough holy water to do all the damage it needs to, is not.

She yanks Nanael to one side, and tosses the contents of the bottle over the counter, and Aziraphale is

one

second

too

slow.

He is too horrified to beg mercy, to spare even a word of prayer. The water falls, and lands, a damning splash against his dear love's skin.

The promise of the world ending, the Antichrist’s arrival, Lucifer himself clawing up from the pit, none of it, absolutely none of it was as frightening as that one second he was too slow.

Aziraphale is lightheaded with fear, nauseous with it, colliding with Crowley and grabbing him up in hands that shake and beginning to miracle away all of the damp that he can before it sets into the fetching leather of his jacket more than it already has.

Crowley blinks, the water dripping harmlessly from his damp fringe and the sharp jut of his chin, beading in his eyelashes like tiny pearls. There is no steam, no visible pain, no destruction. Crowley is befuddled but whole in his hands, alive, that stubborn heart racing furiously away inside him.

“Angel,” he says, and it comes out sounding afraid.

Aziraphale says, "Shh, I've got you," and there is a long, long moment after that where absolutely no one else moves or speaks or even breathes.

And then Aziraphale, to put it politely, loses his temper.

#

“Must have been a bluff,” Crowley says much later, when the unwanted angels have been run off with a fury that would have done Hell proud, and the welcome angel is sleeping away their distress on the lumpy sofa in the back room, and it is just the two of them alone in the flat upstairs.

Pouring out glasses of scotch and passing one across the table, the angel says, with the air of someone making polite conversation, “It was Holy. I could feel it from where I was standing.”

Crowley goes still, drink halfway suspended. After a beat, he lowers it.

“What does that mean?”

“It means-- I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what you are.”

He says it with reverence, but Crowley flinches, as though it landed with a blow. He’s curling in on himself, this snake without a hole to hide in, and Aziraphale rounds the table before he can go away entirely.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “Really, my dear, have I ever hurt you?”

The split-second after he asks feels like an eternity, and his stomach turns. He looks down at his own hands, then away at some far corner of the room. He thinks of you go too fast for me and there is no our side and the look on Crowley’s face both times.

Sickly, he adds, “Intentionally, that is. Of course.”

A groan, and Crowley shoves his sunglasses up his forehead so he can dig the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Don’t be daft, angel,” he bites without heat. “You’ve never hurt me.”

Almost forgiveness, but an aimless sort; Crowley is offering it freely, just as he offers everything else, but as far as he’s concerned, there is nothing to forgive. Aziraphale tugs his hands down by the wrists and kisses first one palm, then the other, and by then Crowley is recovered enough to look back at him.

“A demon immune to holy water,” he hedges.

“An angel immune to hellfire,” Aziraphale counters neatly. “There’s also your Grace, my dear.”

Crowley frowns. “What’s wrong with it?”

Aziraphale realizes that Crowley probably has little more idea than he does about how demons get on. He spends the majority of his time on earth, and the majority of his company with an angel, and the rest he makes up as he goes along.

“It shouldn’t be there,” Aziraphale explains gently. “You should have been cut off. I hadn’t even thought about it until Nanael brought it up, clever thing.”

“Shouldn’t have-- “ Crowley’s expression shifts rapidly, through offense and hurt and indignation, to settle squarely on bemusement. “I have been cut off, Angel. I haven’t heard Her voice in-- “

It’s a painful thing, this demon and his faith. It wouldn’t hurt so much if he didn’t still love Her. Aziraphale holds him closer, before he gets any ideas about running away to that empty flat in Mayfair to heal from these wounds in private.

There is proof of something here. Proof in the holy water and the hellfire and the miracles. Proof in how much Crowley has been allowed to get away with, consorting with the adversary, skating by with little mischiefs and frustrations over any true evil deeds, as though some higher power was safeguarding him from his employers’ suspicions. He has never truly caused any harm, has never truly cost any human their faith, and his temptations are only that: temptations.

Just like in the garden, he only presents the choice, good or bad, and Aziraphale has seen the light go on in his eyes when a person chooses rightly.

There is proof. Here, in this. In choices, and choosing rightly. As though it’s all been--

"Ineffable,” they say together, Aziraphale inspired, Crowley dull.

“Oh, it must have been a part of the Plan, Crowley,” Aziraphale goes on, all but scooping him up. “There must have been a reason. She must have needed you here.”

It isn’t always good or bad, right or wrong, black or white. Sometimes there is a gray area, a middle ground, and not everyone can see that. Not everyone can find it. It would take a soul like the one wrapped up in Aziraphale’s arms-- the one who created both stars and original sin, who glues fivepence to the sidewalk and brings dead birds back to life, who has been a soldier on both sides of the same war and when the time came to declare loyalty he chose door number three.

He chose humanity.

“You didn’t fail,” Aziraphale whispers. So glad his faith survived intact up to this moment, because there were times when he questioned, when he wondered. “Oh, my darling. You did exactly right.”

He Fell, but without the pain or memory. Relegated to Hell, but only for a short time before he slithered right out again. Retained his Grace, and roamed the earth alongside the humans he threw his lot in with. Not evil, and not righteous, but good.

Crowley is blinking rapidly, yielding when Aziraphale brings their foreheads together, hooking fingers into the pocket of Aziraphale’s waistcoat for something to hold onto.

"Then why was I punished?" he asks in the tone of someone trying to understand a puzzle they've been stuck with for six thousand years. "Why did She leave me alone?"

"But She didn't," Aziraphale says. "You were never alone. And neither was I."

#

"Angel," Crowley says slowly some days later, a pretty picture in the morning sunlight beaming across the kitchen. He's frowning, but his hand in Aziraphale's is warm. "If I'm not one or the other, what am I?"

"Haven't I told you enough by now?" Aziraphale says in playful dismay, leaning over the table to meet him with a kiss. "You're perfect, my dear."

The best thing She ever did, really.