#one minute their there the next its silence they don't even get a chance to say good bye

[mead-iocre]

Housemates | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: just platonic housemate things x

warnings: kind of suggestive

word count: 1.9k

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You couldn't sleep. 

You have been lying in bed, in the dark, for the past hour just staring up at the ceiling. You tried to distract yourself with your phone, scrolling through tiktok for a few minutes before you eventually got bored and decided the silence was better company. 

But now the silence was too much. 

Shaking off your duvet, you heft yourself out of bed, mentally cursing the cool rush of cold air. You debated slipping on a pair of pyjama pants, but decided against it. You only ever went to sleep with an oversized t-shirt. Braless, and pants-less. 

You don't even bother slipping on your slippers, opting to just tiptoe your way out of your own room. Feeling for the doorknob, you twist it open. 

A dull, gray light filters through the windows, a weak moon casting long shadows across the living room as you dart past, tiptoeing across marble floors. You regret not wearing your slippers.

You squint in the dark, recognising the faint outline of the sofa, its upholstery frayed in places. Next to it the dark wood surface of the coffee table is engulfed by lingering shadows. You couldn’t even guess the time— if it was late night, or early morning.

Your footsteps were unhurried and confident as you climb the stairs, step by step. It was almost like you were in a trance. The short journey was natural, instinctive— habitual, almost. 

There were definitely perks to having such a great housemate. When you first moved to London, you weren’t expecting to live with a footballer. Your older sister had told you that an old friend of hers from sixth-form had a spare room to rent out, and you immediately jumped at the chance to live in central London for a really, really good price. 

You certainly weren’t expecting the old friend to be Leah Williamson, captain of the women's national team.

Making your way to the only room in the second floor, you push the door open with zero hesitation, as if opening the pages of a well-worn book, already prepared for what you were about to see behind the doors. 

You see a mass of dark hair peaking out of the covers first, dark and inviting.

The only light that spills into the room is faint. Shadows of moonlight peek through the edges of the curtains. It enters the room, pooling into the corners, tracing the outlines of the furniture in ghostly, quiet silver. The streams of light touch the edges of the bedspread and trace the curves of the headboard, highlighting the subtle grain of the dark wood interior.

Tiptoeing over to one side of the bed, you clear your throat loudly before you shake the figure awake. 

“Wake up.”

A quiet moan sounds from beneath the covers. You roll your eyes, already annoyed at the extra company. You’ve done this routine far too many times at this point. You feel for a bony shoulder and nudge it again, a little harsher this time. 

“Oi. Up you get, c'mon” You raise your voice a little louder. Since when did scaring random women out of your housemates' bed become your part-time job?

The stranger finally wakes up. She opens her eyes, squinting up at you, a look of annoyance written all over her face.

Sadly for her, you could not find it in you to care one bit.

She was pretty, to be fair. Minus the smudged black eyeliner decorating her face and the pillow lines across her cheeks.

Must've been a wild night then.

You ignore the sudden twinge you felt in your chest.

The mystery woman speaks. “w-whats going on?”

Good thing she’s not a screamer like some of the others.

"Did you not hear me the first time? Get up and leave"

The woman turns to Leah who is still fast asleep and nudges her, as if asking for help. These woman are all the same. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, shifting on your feet. The floor was cold and you’d ideally like to be underneath warm covers right now.

"L-Leah..." All she gets is a groan of annoyance. The woman in question shifts further away from her bedmate until she is nearly at the end of the bed. You couldn't help but chuckle, quickly masking it with a hand over your mouth when a noise unintentionally escapes your lips.

Unfortunately for you, this one was stubborn and desperate.

She fishes her arm out from under the covers and shakes Leah’s shoulder even harder. When she realises that her one night stand wasn’t budging, she finally sits up against the headboard.

The blanket falls slightly off of her frame, exposing one bare shoulder.

There’s that weird tight feeling in your chest again.

You advert you eyes to the sleeping blonde with her back turned towards you. You were tempted to grab a pillow and start smacking her until she woke up. The annoying fucker.

"Who even are you?" The woman pipes up, her voice scratchy, like nails on a chalk board.

"Her fiancée."

You could've cackled straight to her face at the way the woman's eyes widen like saucers, looking back and fourth between you and the blonde’s back.

But then you hear a low chuckle from the other side of the bed.

Thank god.

“Leah, tell your little friend here to leave” 

The Lionesses captain rolls over to face you the both of you, still blinking the sleep out of her eyes. She raised her arms up to stretch, giving you a peak of a black Nike sports bra.

The small smile she gives you is full of Williamson snark, as if she fully anticipated the sight before her. You weren't new to kicking her one-night endeavours out of her bed, and it's almost as if she found some weird enjoyment out of this.

Finally she address her new buddy. “You should go”

“Excuse me?” The audacity of this woman.

“You heard my fiancée, get out.”

The woman doesn't wait a minute longer. She huffs, throwing off the blanket muttering under her breath. You swear you heard her utter “bastard” somewhere in there.

Luckily, she was semi-dressed, wearing a strapless bra and a pair of underwear. You had seen far too many naked bodies before and you would ideally like to not see any more.

She grabs her clothes littered all over the floor, half-assedly throwing them on as she fumbles with buttons and zippers. Her movements were sharp, impatient, as she darts all over the room. Without a glance back at the two of you, she scurries out, slamming the door behind her.

Turning back to the blonde, you find her sitting up and already staring at you. Seeing her one-night stands run around like headless chickens the morning after was the norm for the blonde. While she explicitly states that she’s in for a good time, not a long time, others do still like to push their luck.

Luckily, you’re there to snap them back to reality.

"Well...she seemed nice"

The England captain rolls her eyes, flopping back on the bed. "You scared her off"

Scoffing, peeling back the covers and slide in the now empty space beside her. The spot has been kindly warmed up for you, how nice. “Want me to call her back in here then—?”

You make a move to get back out of bed, but Leah grabs your wrist, tugging you down and draping the covers back over you.

“Nahh, I’ve got you now. Can’t sleep?”

“No.” You sit up, leaning half of your body up against the headboard. You’ve been in and out of sleep the past couple of hours. “That’s why I’m in your bed”

“To talk?”

You side-eye her, sensing an accusatory undertone. “Yeah. To talk”

“Besides,” You poke her on the arm. "I’ve got to keep my fiancée in check"

You share a laugh.

"Wasn't as bad as the time I called you my wife" Leah chuckles, low and breathy. She turns to you, sharing a smile as you both reminisce the pure look of horror on that poor woman's face.

Fun times.

Before you could say anything else, Leah moves over, laying her head on your chest and getting comfortable again. She had the worst case of bedhead, you think to yourself as you look down at the mess of blonde locks.

You smile as you run your fingers gently through the soft strands of blonde. 

She hums at the action, her body visibly relaxing. She seemed to take it as a sign to scoot closer to you, so she does. She drapes an arm across your waist, dragging you closer to her own body, snuggling further into your side. The blanket wasn't the only thing offering you warmth right now but you ignore that fact for now.

You both bask in the silence for a minute. While you were preoccupied, trying to comb through her hair, you failed to notice sly fingers curling under your oversized t-shirt.

Your breath hitches as a warm finger strokes the skin by your hip. For a split second you freeze, but then you remember it's just Leah. 

It’s just your housemate.

Her finger continues to caress the lace resting on your skin before she makes a humming sound again, to herself, as if in deep thought.

After a while, she speaks again. Her finger not having left your skin. "This is new”

You hum in agreement. It was indeed new. A cheeky little purchase from Agent Provocateur, a gift to yourself after the shitty week you’ve had.

“It's lace,” a finger hooks into the band, pulling it away from your skin briefly. "…and satin, huh"

Her fingers dance across the scallop lace details by your hips, caressing the material like this is a normal occurrence between housemates. The air between you is thick with the weight of what isn’t being said.

You let her, selfishly enjoying her delicate touch against your skin.

"yeah," clearing your throat, you squeeze your legs together for a moment, praying she didn't notice. But you doubt that when the gentle touches move down to your bare thigh, massaging the tense flesh.

You try to ignore the urge to keep your leg still instead of pressing it further into her palm, a greedy little thing. Her touch is soothing and natural. As if this is all a regular occurrence. You continue, "It's from their new collection— it’s pink”

You're not sure why you felt like you had to share that information. It's almost as if you were tongue-tied and can only focus on the fingers still tracing patterns on your skin.

Leah shifts slightly, squinting up at you. Pretty blue eyes meet yours, scanning, searching for something. The air between you thickens, charged.

"yeah?" she murmurs, her voice low and husky. Traces of sleep still linger in her voice and you find yourself oddly lulled by the sound of it.

You nod, adverting your gaze. Lately, you've found yourself unable to meet her eyes at times. You focus on combing her hair back, the bangs she had cut short a few months ago now long enough that it drapes over her eyes.

She continues to look up at you, cerulean blue eyes almost yearning for your attention again. You couldn't ignore them from your peripheral, so you will yourself to meet them with your own.

Whatever she sees in your eyes seem to dictate her next move. She drops her gaze to where her fingers are slowly pulling up your t-shirt, exposing bare skin, until they grant her a peek of magenta pink lace.

“oh yeah,” She agrees, more to herself. As if it was necessary for her to see it with her own to eyes.

She smirks that annoyingly attractive smile before she lets the shirt drop back down over your hips. You can almost taste the air she breathes, a sharp sweetness that clings to your tongue. “s’nice, baby.”

Leah runs her hands over your hips, above the shirt. She’ll keep the memory of pretty pink against your bare skin tucked safely in the back of her mind; cradled in the quiet, sacred corners of her thoughts, where nothing but longing stirs.

She then slides her fingers back under the material again, keeping them there, her touch less hesitant and firmer this time. You won’t be surprised if you find finger marks around your hips and thighs tomorrow morning.

You feel her thumb start to rub circles on your bare skin again, moving greedily against the lace. Her breath fans your neck, close enough that you could just about feel her lips, whispering a secret only meant for you. “I like those on you" 

oh to be platonic housemates with a hot football player (who also happens to notice when you’re wearing new underwear) x

・❥・- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[bat-mom-writer]

Not Just A Mother

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: You married Bruce Wayne, not out of love, but because Bruce wanted a mother figure for his sons. But what happens when Bruce starts showing a more caring side?

Want a more angst and spicy arranged married come together? Check out Closet Confession.

(I do NOT own any DC characters)

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"Tim, did you finish your homework?" You called out, your footsteps echoing through the grand hallways of Wayne Manor as you made your way to your non biological son's room.

"I'll get it later," Tim's voice drifted back, a hint of procrastination in his tone.

"Not a chance, young man," you responded firmly, your heels clicking against the marble floor. "You know the rules. No gadgets or superhero shenanigans until your schoolwork is done. So get off the computer."

Tim sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving his computer. "Ten more minutes," he protested, his fingers typing away at lightning speed.

You signed but said nothing more upon stopping at the open door of Tim's room. You knew Bruce didn't appreciate you interference in nightly heroics, but you had your own way of managing the boys. Just as you was about to remind Tim of the consequences, a deep voice resonated from behind you.

"Listen to your mother, Tim."

You spun around to face Bruce, who had emerged from the shadows of the hallway. His gaze was stern but not unkind, the same look he often gave when you discussed the boys' schooling. You felt a small twinge of relief that he wasn't upset with your intervention.

Tim looked up from his computer, his eyes wide with surprise. He had never heard Bruce call you "mother" before. It was always Mrs. Wayne or by your name. The change in tone was subtle but significant, hinting at a shift in their relationship that none of them had anticipated.

Your cheeks flush under Bruce's eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You noticed the warmth in his smile and the way he held your gaze for a beat too long. You felt a strange mix of comfort and discomfort, the kind that comes with the sudden realization that the ground beneath you is not as solid as it once seemed.

Bruce gave a curt nod before turning to leave. His footsteps grew quieter as he moved away, the sound of his retreating figure leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of his behavior. Was it the stress of their sham marriage finally getting to him? Or perhaps a genuine affection that had been buried beneath layers of duty and obligation?

Over the next few days, Bruce continued to act more affectionate towards you, slipping in gentle touches and kind words where there had once been a stoic distance. You felt torn between acknowledging the change and fearing it was just a temporary shift in mood. After all, their marriage was built on a foundation of convenience, not love. You're there to provide a stable home life for his sons, not to be the object of his affection.

One evening, as Bruce sat in his study, you gathered your courage and approached him, clutching a set of documents in your hands. "I need to talk to you about something," you began, your voice tentative. "It's about a new deal that's been offered to the company."

Bruce looked up from his paperwork, his eyes reflecting the glow of the computer screens. "What is it?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"It's about a new acquisition," you said, looking down at the papers. "The board thinks it's a good opportunity."

Bruce took the papers from you, his hands brushing against yours for a moment longer than necessary. You felt a spark of electricity, and you quickly withdrew your hand, hoping he hadn't noticed. You watched as he skimmed through the pages, his brow furrowing slightly as he digested the information.

"What's your take on it?" he asked, his gaze still on the contract.

"I...I don't know if it's my...my place to say, Mr. Wayne" You stuttered, your heart racing. You had never been one to voice your opinions in matters like this.

Bruce's gaze lifted from the documents, his eyes locking with your. "Your opinion is important to me," he said firmly. "We're partners in this, remember?"

The words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken promise. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Well," you began, your voice stronger now, "I think it's....sketchy. There's something about the terms that doesn't sit right with me."

Bruce's eyes never left yours as he listened intently. His thumb traced the edge of the paper, the only sign of his contemplation. "Then tell them I'm not interested," he said abruptly, handing the contract back to you.

Your eyes widened in shock. You had expected him to disagree, to argue the merits of the deal and the importance of the board's suggestions. Instead, he had deferred to your judgment, something he had never done before. "Are you sure?" you asked.

"Absolutely," Bruce said, his voice firm. "If it doesn't feel right, then it's not worth pursuing."

You took the contract, your hand trembling slightly. "But the board…" your trailed off, unsure how to voice your concerns without overstepping your boundaries.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "The board's job is to make suggestions," he said. "My job is to make decisions. And if my… wife," he emphasized the word, "thinks something's off, then I trust her judgment."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. It was the first time he had ever called you his wife without it sounding like a mere formality. You held the contract, your mind racing. "Thank you," you murmured. "I'll handle it."

Bruce nodded, his gaze lingering on yours. "You're welcome."

You retreated from the study, your thoughts in a whirlwind. The weight of the contract in your hands felt heavier than ever before. As you walked, the echoes of their conversation seemed to follow you, whispering of a newfound partnership and trust. You paused outside your study, taking a moment to collect yourself before returning to work. The manor felt different, as if the very air had shifted to accommodate a burgeoning emotion you hadn't anticipated.

Over the next few weeks, Bruce's affection grew more pronounced. He would join you for dinner, engaging in conversations that delved beyond the superficial. They discussed books, art, and the future of Gotham, sharing smiles and laughter that felt genuine and unforced. You found yourself looking forward to these moments, the tension in the air charged with something you dared not name.

One evening, after the boys had retired to their rooms, Bruce found you in the dimly lit Batcave, your eyes reflecting the glow of the monitors as you reviewed the night's intel. He approached you slowly, his footsteps muffled by the rubber soles of his boots. "I thought I was the night owl around here," he said with a teasing smile.

You startled, spinning around in the chair. "Mr. Wayne," you gasped, hand flying to your chest. "I didn't hear you come in."

Bruce chuckled, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. "It's Bruce," he corrected gently. "And I can see you've got everything under control."

Your cheeks colored as you nodded. "Just keeping an eye on things," you said, your voice quieter than usual. You felt self-conscious under his scrutiny, unsure how to react to his sudden interest in your nightly routine.

"Mind if I join you?" Bruce asked, his tone casual, yet it held a hint of something more.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. You watched as he made his way over to you, his movements fluid and silent. He leaned against the console, his eyes on the screens, but you knew he was really watching you.

"You know, this isn't where I expected to find you on our anniversary," he said, his voice low and warm.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had almost forgotten about the date, lost in the whirlwind of their new dynamic. Your swiveled the chair to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Anniversary?" you echoed, trying to keep your voice even.

Bruce nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, it's been a year since we made this… arrangement." He paused, searching for the right word, and you felt the weight of the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

"I… I had no idea at how quickly the year went by," you murmured, your eyes flicking to the floor before meeting his gaze again. "So much has happened."

"Yes, it has," Bruce agreed, his expression softening. "But I think we've made it work, don't you?"

You nodded slowly, your eyes moving to the side of the floor. "We have," you conceded. "For the boys."

"For the boys," Bruce echoed, but there was a hint of something more in his voice. He reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt through you. "Dance with me."

You looked at him, bewildered. The Batcave was the last place you'd would have ever imagined sharing a dance with your husband, especially considering their relationship had been more of a business transaction than a romantic union.

"What?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and doubt. The cold metal and concrete walls of the Batcave didn't exactly scream romance.

But Bruce didn't seem to notice the oddness of his request. He held out his other hand, his eyes earnest. "Just one dance."

Your heart racing, placing your hand in his, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He led you to the center of the Batcave, the place where so much strategy and planning took place. But now, it was just them, standing in the shadow of the Dark Knight's armor, the only music the hum of the computers and the distant echo of the city above.

He pulled you closer, his hand on your back while the other held your other hand. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, a stark contrast to the cool air of the underground lair. He was close enough that you could make out the scent of his cologne, the faint metallic scent of his suit mingling with it.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Let's pretend, just for a moment, that we're not Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne, but a couple who met under different circumstances."

Your pulse quickened. You knew the rules of your arrangement, knew that love had never been a part of the deal. Yet here you were, in the most unlikely of settings, with the potential for something you had never allowed yourself to imagine. Hesitating for only a moment, you stepped into the embrace, your body fitting against his as if it had always belonged there.

He began to sway gently, guiding you in a slow, rhythmic dance that seemed to defy the gravity of their situation. His hand rested on the small of your back, his other hand holding hers firmly, yet gently. You felt the muscles beneath the fabric of his suit, the strength and power of the man you had only ever known as your husband in name.

The sound of his deep, rich hum filled the cavernous space, a tune you didn't recognize but found oddly soothing. It was a moment of vulnerability you had never seen from him before, a side of Bruce Wayne that was as unguarded as the batcave was protected. As they danced, your head leaned into his chest, the steady beat of his heart echoing in your ears, mimicking the tempo of your own.

The tension between them grew palpable, a silent crescendo that seemed to vibrate in every atom of the room. You felt yout resolve wavering, the walls you had meticulously built to maintain the façade of your marriage threatening to crumble. You knew the truth – that you had developed feelings for him, feelings that had grown from a seed of respect and duty into a full-blown bouquet of love and longing.

"Bruce," you murmured, your voice shaky. "What are we doing?"

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "I'm just… trying to be a better husband to you."

The admission sent a tremor through you, and you pulled away slightly to look up at him. His eyes searched yours, a question and a plea melded into one. Your chest tightened as you read the hope and uncertainty in his gaze.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What changed?"

Bruce's expression grew serious, his eyes holding yours captive. "I've realized that life is too short to ignore what's right in front of us," he replied, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand. "I've watched you care for my sons, for this city, and for me. You've become more than just a part of this arrangement. You've become a part…of me."

The words hung in the air, a confession that resonated through the very foundation of the Batcave. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that he was just playing a part. But what you found was a vulnerability you had never seen before, a crack in the armor of the man who was both Bruce Wayne and Batman. You were speechless, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Leaning closer, his cheek brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered near your ear, the heat of his breath sending a rush of emotion through yours. "Please," he whispered, "give me a chance."

Your heart was a tumult of emotions – hope, fear, confusion. But you knew that you couldn't ignore the feelings that had been growing within you for so long. You nodded, the barest of movements, but it was enough.

Bruce's hand slid to your cheek, cupping it gently as he leaned in and kissed you. It was a soft kiss, filled with a year's worth of unspoken emotions. You melted into it, your arms slipping around his neck as you gave in to the warmth that had been building between them. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and you could feel the tension in his body, the years of holding back finally released.

You broke apart, breathing in quite pants, your eyes locked. Your heart raced, your mind reeling with the implications of what was happening. "Bruce," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"My wife," Bruce said, the words sounding unfamiliar, yet right. He searched your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. "You are my wife. I want to act like the husband I know you truly deserve."

"What about the boys?" You asked, your voice a soft murmur.

"They're our priority," Bruce assured you, his hand sliding from your cheek to your hand again. "We just now have… some extra perks to our partnership." He offered you a tentative smile, and you couldn't help but return it, feeling the weight of your situation lighten just a little.

For a moment, you two just stood there, holding onto each other, the reality of your feelings finally out in the open. The silence was comfortable, filled with the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling together.

[cheezeybread]

Picture Floyd and Jade going to see Yuu for random Azul business reasons. But its Game night with Yuu, Deuce and Ace. the twins get invited to join in and totally forget about whatever Azul wanted.

game niiiight, heck yeah!

I love little scenes like this- don't get me wrong, I love big angsty stuff, but it's a little reminder that these guy are just teenagers, after all!

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

"Shriiiimpy~" Floyd cooed out, raising a fist to knock on the door again. In contrast to his attempt at a smooth voice, he rapped his knuckles on the door so hard that the old wood practically starting shaking!

"Easy, brother, unless you'd like your paycheck to go towards fixing up the door to this place," Jade remarked, reaching a hand out and rapping on the wood with his own knuckles, as if he were showing his twin how it should be done.

Floyd only stuck his tongue out at Jade, lifting up his fist to the door once more. They've knocked and called out several times already, so wasn't it their right to bust the door down? It was, right? That seemed like it would be the right thing to do. Besides, Azul got antsy whenever both of the eels were out and about on errands, not fully trusting them to get the job done exactly how he wanted. But it was just giving Shrimpy a message, so how hard could it be?

Wait, what were they here to tell them, again? Ah, Jade probably remembered.

Floyd rapped his knuckles on the door again, getting more annoyed with every knock. Certainly they weren't ignoring him, were they? The little Shrimpy wouldn't do such a thing, not to him!

"I'm getting real tired of this, Jade," he grumbled, eyes narrowing.

Sensing his brother's change in mood, Jade took a deep breath before reaching into his pocket and drawing out a ring of keys. Wordlessly, he flicked through each one before singling out an old, rusty key. He leaned down and stuck it in the keyhole, twisting the door unlocked, and opening it.

"Why didn't you try that ten minutes ago?" Floyd snapped, amused despite his attitude.

"I thought it to be rather rude to barge into YN's place without knocking first and giving them a chance to invite us in," Jade replied, giving a coy smile "Besides, it wouldn't do for them to know we have a key to Ramshackle, now, would it?"

"Ahhhh, Jade, you evil genius!" Floyd laughed loudly, slapping his brother on the back.

As soon as they stepped into the building, faint sounds of screams and laughter could be heard few rooms over. Jade nodded to the sound, silently telling his brother to start heading over that way. The two had nothing to fear, of course, from anybody who may be in the building, but it wouldn't do to have their guard down at any point in time.

Following the noise, the two found themselves peering into a doorway- the doorway to the Ramshackle guest room, to be more precise. It looked cleaner than the last time the twins had seen it- which was way back when Azul took Ramshackle as collateral for YN's contract. Now the room was emptied of its trash, was dusted and scrubbed clean, and even had some decent-looking furniture in it.

And lounging around the room, gathered around a table, was YN, Ace, and Deuce.

"No, no, no, you cheater, that's against the rules!" Ace cried out, looking on the verge of tears as he slammed a fist into the table

"Is not!" Deuce cackled, sticking his tongue out.

"Boys, chill out-" YN started, snapping a finger to get their attention. Despite sounding annoyed, it was clear that YN was enjoying themselves, as well "Grim's sleeping in the next room! And don't break my table slamming onto it!"

"Slamming?" Ace tried very hard to contain his laughter, putting a hand over his mouth "That'swhatme'n'yourmomdidlastnight-"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY MOTHER?????" Deuce yelled, standing up in a fighting position.

"Chill, dude, chill, I was talking about YN's mom!"

"My mother's in a different universe." YN deadpanned.

"...oh." Ace went into an awkward silence after that.

And then there was a screech of absolute terror from behind the Eels, and in unison, they flicked their heads around to see what had caused such a racket. On the ground was a terrified Grim. He was holding a blanket around his shoulders, and clutched it as if he were worried it would be stolen. He stared up at the two brothers with wide eyes, any sleep gone.

"YNNNNNN!" He cried, darting in between their feet and launching himself at the prefect, burying himself in their arms.

"Oh, Jade, Floyd!" YN seemed unperturbed at the sudden appearance of the two as she stroked Grim's back in comfort, despite the terror in Ace and Deuce's face "What are you two doing here?"

"And where did they come from?" Deuce whispered. "How did they get in...?"

Ignoring Deuce's valid questions, Jade bowed his head slightly towards YN in greeting "We have a message for you from-"

"WHAT are you guys doing?" Floyd interrupted, unable to contain his excitement at the situation. He burst into the room and flopped down on the floor, his legs crossed. He looked over the board game spread out on the table and grinned "Don't tell me you're a nerd like Azul, Shrimpy! Board games?"

"Board games!" YN agreed, laughing.

"We- we're playing Monopoly right now," Deuce offered, trying to regain his composure as he adjusted his sitting position on the couch.

"And then we were going to play charades, maybe even a game of hide and seek, too!" YN grinned "Ace and Deuce got permission from Riddle to spend the night here tonight-"

"Yeah, after busting our chops doing homework and study sessions...and cleaning...and lawnwork," groaned Ace.

"You should join us!" YN said eagerly, clapping their hands together.

"Join you?" Jade questioned, stepping into the room with a small smile.

"Yeah, you guys are my friends, too! Come on, it'll be fun, right, guys?" YN looked to the group for their approval. Grim refused to look at the eels, looking like a pouting child. Ace glanced towards Floyd from the corner of his eye, scooting away casually. Deuce thought about it and shrugged.

"Well, I mean, playing charades and hide and seek would be more fun with more people," he conceded "Ace?"

"I mean- yeah, sure, I guess," he shrugged, "As long as neither of you try to take a bite out of me, okay?"

Biting at the air in front of Ace hard enough to make his teeth clack together loudly, Floyd grinned "I'll try!"

"I suppose I shall, as well," Jade chuckled, taking a seat next to YN and folding his hands in his lap, Azul's task long forgotten "So, how do we play?"

-----

Azul drummed his fingers on his desk impatiently, glancing at the clock every few seconds. It was well after midnight.

He had sent the twins on a task that should have taken no longer than twenty minutes, and they had been gone for three hours. Grumbling under his breath about how hard it was to find good help these days, Azul reached for his phone and called Jade's number.

It kept ringing....no one picked it up.

He called it two more times, with no luck.

He then tried Floyd's, but the call ended almost immediately. The bastard pressed the decline button! Two more tries to Jade's number, to no avail.

On the off-chance (which was probably not an off-chance at this point) that the two were still at Ramshackle, Azul dialed up YN's number.

"hello?" they answered almost immediately, their voice in a hushed whisper.

"Ah, yes, Prefect, I'm calling to see if you know the whereabouts of my workers," He said without missing a beat, standing up from his chair and making his way over to one of the sofas to sit.

"Shhh, they might hear you over the phone!" YN hissed. There were muffled sounds of movement, and when they spoke again, their voice was a little louder "What were you asking again?"

"Floyd and Jade," Azul said firmly, pressing his fingers up against the bridge of his nose. He was starting to lose his patience.

"Ohhhh, yeah, about that-" The prefect's voice was cut off by a loud thud, and they screamed.

"FOUND YOU SHRIMPY!" Azul could hear a familiar voice over the phone.

"Floyd? Floyd!" He barked into the phone, hoping the eel could hear him "Come back right now, do you hear me!"

But apparently he could not, since Azul could only hear Floyd and YN laughing heartily over something. Then there were more hushed whispers, and Floyd giggled like a fool before his voice was heard clearly

"Oh- oh yeah, hey Azul-" he said, barely containing his laughter "Can me and Jade stay the night here?"

"No, Floyd, the two of you have to open the lounge tomorrow, it's Saturday, that's one of our busiest-"

"Thanks, boss-man, see you later!"

Click.

Azul threw his phone to the ground in frustration, slamming his head down into the nearest pillow, and let out a very muffled scream.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

[heeliopheelia]

"just hold me" (jay x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.6k requested by nonnie ♡

a/n: hello, it's your very much sleep deprived crazy writer again :)) i planned on posting a shorter drabble tonight but i think i'm literally just unable to write anything under 0.5k... i'll try the next time tho!! hope you guys like this one, i kinda love but hate it at the same time <33

masterlist

"Jay," you whine, trying to wiggle out of his grip weakly. "Get off. It's too hot."

"I don't care, I'm cold," he scoffs as he pulls you closer, arms tightly wrapped around your waist.

As much as you love cuddling your boyfriend and it's a rare occasion that he actually wants it more than you do, the stuffiness in your bedroom is already enough to prevent you from laying comfortably. And with Jay's body heat added to that? Au revoir good night's sleep.

"Then put your goddamn shirt on," you grumble, finally succeeding at prying his hand away from you.

Jay huffs, pressing his lips to the back of your ear. "I would but you're the one wearing it now."

A smile creeps upon your lips and you press them together to contain your laughter somehow. The black fabric of his favorite t-shirt is indeed snugly wrapped around your body. You're glad your back is turned to your boyfriend's face as you know that the second he would've noticed your smile, you wouldn't be standing a chance against him anymore and you'd have to surrender yourself to a whole night of the sweet suffocation.

When you feel his hand sneaking around your waist again, you're quick to slap it away, covering up your laugh with a loud cough.

"You're mean," he pouts which is so out of character for him and only makes the urge to laugh and give in harder for you.

So instead you wave your hand at him dismissively. "Go to sleep, you big baby."

You listen to his steady breathing for long enough to determine that he's most likely already asleep, slowly, you wiggle yourself backwards until your back meets his toned chest.

And you can hear his incoherent mumbling of fine's and whatever's underneath his nose before the blissful silence comes upon you two at last. You sigh from tiredness, feeling the burden of entire day weighting down on your eyelids with each minute.

There's one thing missing though – one significant detail that fends off your very needed sleep no matter how hard you try to put this feeling to an end. And then after two more minutes of trying, you give up with a sigh, well aware that there are no real chances of you actually falling asleep tonight without feeling Jay's arms around your body.

"Well, would you look at that? Knew you'd come crawling back," he teases only one second later and you close your eyes, realizing you've just been caught acting up against your own pride. "Just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"Shut up," you mumble, pushing your body even more into his chest, ignoring his snickering. "Just hold me, please?"

Jay huffs out a laughter and you can just hear the teasing smile that spreads on his pretty lips. "You're always so cute when you're sleepy. As you wish, my baby."

Without needing to prompt him any further, his arms wrap around you in an instant, his body heat engulfing you pleasantly. You're too tired to pay any mind to being too hot, and you just sigh out of content, snuggling even closer to him. His fingers slip underneath the hem of his your t-shirt and he caresses your skin with his calloused thumbs soothingly. Now, with your boyfriend's lips on your neck and his slow breathing matching its pace with yours, you allow the tiredness to take over and you finally fall asleep, tightly tucked in Jay's arms.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 3

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

prologue ✧ previous ✧ next

"They say there's a chance you could learn to walk again." He offered, trying to be as optimistic as he could. Lord knows you didn't need another thing to feel bad about.

"How big a chance?"

He flushed, looking away.

He had caught you after you had passed out, moving to sit beside you afterward.

The nurses were beginning to bustle about. You had caught a few pitying glances already–each one only making you wish your bed would swallow you whole.

"It's been done before."

"I know you know the stats." You said with a sigh.

He sighed too, squeezing your hand. "I just... I don't want you to feel like you can't. I know you can."

"Izuku."

He winced. "One in a hundred."

You sunk a little lower beneath the sheets at that.

The silence stretched on, neither of you knowing exactly what to say after that.

"Sorry I'm late." The door quietly swung shut behind the heterochromic boy as he moved to take a seat beside you; saving both of you from the awkward tension. "I couldn't get out of the press conference."

Right. Because for the rest of them, hero work went on.

You pushed the thought to the corner of your mind, adding it to the list of things you'd think about later.

He pulled a chair over, blank eyes softening as he saw you. He leaned over to give you a quick hug. "I'm happy you're okay." He said softly.

"How'd it go? Have you guys found him?" You asked, ignoring the last comment for no reason beyond its awkward nature.

You had learned from Midoriya that you had been out for two weeks, but he hadn't any other information. Apparently, he had spent most of his time here with you.

Todoroki nodded. "Bakugo did. The day after the incident." He informed you solemnly.

Your heart clenched oddly at the name.

"He got to the fucker before the authorities could. Beat him up pretty bad. For a second it looked like Bakugo was going to be charged with assault because the villain could barely walk after, but... given the circumstances..." He looked down, shaking his head.

You flicked a piece of lint off your blanket glumly. "Suppose he's been pretty busy then." You muttered bitterly.

That was the next question you had grilled Midoriya for. Turned out, in the half a month you had been in a coma, Bakugo hadn't dropped by once.

Todoroki looked at you, blinking slowly. "Y/n, it's not like that."

You scoffed but said nothing.

"It really isn't. He was so angry. He is so angry. He didn't go home that night. He stayed up until dawn looking for the villain and didn't stop till he found the guy." He told you. "He's just processing."

You sighed, turning to look out the window. "I guess." You just wished that he could process here. With you. And maybe some better food.

"He'll visit soon."

It was like that for the next couple of days. All of your friends, acquaintances, even a bunch of people you knew only by name–all showing up to wish you a speedy recovery and look at you with their pitying gazes that made your skin crawl.

And yet through it all, Bakugo never showed up.

"Are you up for another visitor?"

You looked up, slightly surprised to see a purple haired girl standing in the doorway. Jirou, as you recalled from high school–or rather, Earphone Jack she went by now.

You shrugged, nodding sulkily. What did it matter, really?

"Thanks for coming." You spoke quietly. So unlike your usual self.

She stared at you for a minute as you stared firmly at your lap. Everyone's pity was starting to drown you alive–and you had concluded that the only way to survive it was to pretend it wasn't there.

"Hiroshi and Yutaka Kota." She finally broke the silence.

You glanced up, confused. "What?"

"The children you saved." The girl answered. "Those were their names."

You shook your head. She must've been confused. "I wasn't able to save them." You whispered, hands clenched tightly together in your lap. "I was too slow.

"You're wrong. They were a bit banged up, but thanks to you they had just enough time to escape before the building really collapsed."

That couldn't have been right. And yet you wished so dearly that it was. You felt tears welling up in your eyes again–whether because you were happy or sad you weren't quite sure.

"I'm really sorry that this happened to you." She said quietly.

But there was something off about her tone. It wasn't pitying. Didn't feel like nails on a chalkboard as most people's did so often nowadays. It was... understanding. It was actually quite nice.

"But I thought it'd be nice for you to know that it wasn't for nothing. Including those two, 326 people accredit their lives to you, Cordelia."

You looked away, feeling the tears leak down your cheeks now.

"Thank you." You whispered. "It was getting really tiring hearing people tell me how 'at least I didn't die,' or some other unrealistically optimistic bullshit."

She snorted. "That's lowkey a weird thing to say to someone."

"Tell me about it."

She looks at you, and smiles.

Why had you two not been close before? You had both gone to UA together–hell, you two had more mutuals than you could count. And yet, you had never found yourselves in the other's company; and even after you both graduated, you never saw her on the field.

"Are you going to go to the hero gala?" She asked after a beat of pause.

Right. The hero gala. In the grand scheme of things, it just seemed so trivial now. "I didn't think I was still invited." You said honestly, letting your shoulders rise and fall.

"Of course you are." She corrected. "Cordelia, if anyone can learn to walk again? It's you. And even if you can't, that doesn't change your legacy. You're amazing, dude."

You smiled softly down at your sheets. "Yeah, I guess. Maybe. I'll think about it."

"Do. It's in three days. I'll see you there, okay?"

"Wait." You called as she stood before she could make it all the way to the door. "Why did you visit me?" You asked at last.

She smiled to herself, as if thinking upon a fond memory. "You're awesome. I always see you on the news. You're revolutionizing the space. Paving the way for women. It's amazing. Honestly." She told you proudly. "You're amazing, Cordelia."

For the first time in weeks, the load in your eyes lightened slightly, and you felt your lips tug into a small smile. It didn't erase the ache in your heart or bring back feeling to your legs, but it was something.

a/n: istg my tags are broken 🥲 sorry if ur tag doesn't work

taglist:@floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia @highlandhyena @sarashu @rednicotine @emmaiscool22 @your-mum3000 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @sikuthealien

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde @pikachuzhc

[benkeibear]

『 Baby said 』

☼ synopsis: After a rough day at work you want to relax but Choji just has so much energy to spend, you let him eat you out until he tires himself out

☼ character: Choji

☼ wc: 0.9k

☼ cw: gn!reader, afab!reader, cunnilingus, fingering

☼ notes: uh hello windbreaker fandom I'm joining you guys for the giggles!! 🥹🫶 || don't forget to sign up for the taglist and that requests are open!

Baby said when you're talking I go dead, shut your mouth, give me your head...

Your head was pounding especially bad this day and you were counting down the minutes until you could leave work, just wanting to head home to cuddle up in bed. When the time finally came you made your way home as quick as possible, a small smile appeared on your lips when your boyfriend was already home so he would cuddle up with you in bed.

And you were right, he wanted to cuddle but he had so much to tell you as well. “And then- then he really said that! Can you believe it?” he asked excitedly and laughed along, telling you about what happened after the fight on the weekend - a fight you happened to be involved in and a story you've heard at least a hundred times these past few days and normally you wouldn't mind but today your head threatened to explode if he said one more word.

“Babe- Baby… CHOJI TOMIYAMA” Your voice boomed through the room, laced with desperation and much louder than intended. Choji now sat up, previously having laid on his back, limbs stretched out across the bed and your body

“Am I in trouble?” He asked softly, his expression similar to a hurt puppy, hating it when you used his whole name in a situation like this.

“N-No- I didn't mean to scream, but you talk nonstop, not even giving me a chance to tell you that my head is killing me” you explained seriously as you let your eyes close. The man next to you just hummed in acknowledgement, a pout resting on his face when he looked over to you - He just had way too much energy to be laying around in silence but really wanted to respect you.

The way his charcoal colored eyes burnt holes into your body didn't go unnoticed by you, despite your eyes being shut tight. You let go of a long sigh.

“How about you do the talking between my legs, hm?” you asked and a small smirk started to form on your lips when you felt him shift before taking his place between your legs, wasting no time to get rid of your pajama pants along with your panties.

When he spread your folds all you could hear was a chuckle “Look how wet you already are for me. Does my voice turn you on so much?” He asked with a shit eating grin to which you only groaned and pulled him towards your core by the hair.

“Just shut up,” you mumbled quite flustered and for once, Choji decided to listen. The next thing you could feel was his warm tongue dragging through your folds completely, licking a long stripe from your entrance all the way to your clit and back down.

“You're reacting so well to m-” he was praising you but caught off guard by your hips bucking into his face, making him chuckle against your cunt before sucking on your sensitive clit which earned him a satisfied moan.

“Less talking, more licking. Understood.” He teased you and let his tongue dance through your folds once more with a zigzag motion. When the tip of his tongue reached your entrance he pushed it in to get a good taste of your juices. A loud moan escaped your lips the moment he continued to fuck you with his skilled tongue, his calloused thumb starting to rub small circles onto your clit to make your head spin. The lewd slurping noises coming from Choji almost drowned out your own moans as you neared your high - and who would Choji be to deny you your much needed release? Without missing a beat he pulled back slightly just to spit right onto your clit, making his thumb glide smoothly over the bundle of nerves while his tongue returned to its previous place, thrusting into your tight cunt.

Your hands were harshly pulling on his hair as his name fell off your lips like a prayer when the knot in your lower abdomen finally snapped and the slurping noises of the man between your thighs turned into whimpers and soft moans when he got to taste your release.

Without giving you any time to recover, his tongue trailed up to your clit, giving it more attention. He was busy flicking your sensitive bundle of nerves around and gently sucking on it, that he almost neglected your poor cunt, stuffing it with two of his fingers the second your moans grew in pitch again and like the menace that he is, he started to curl his fingers right into your sweet spot without mercy - throwing you into yet another orgasm.

His goal was clear now, tire himself out on your poor pussy until you felt better and he was tired, whatever would come first. The pace he set was relentless, unbothered by the way you screamed and cried his full name in pleasure this time, his tongue and fingers kept working their magic.

Three… four… five… you lost your count after the sixth orgasm, any touch borderline painful now and the man between your legs seemed to grow tired, his licks slowing down and only once you pushed him away, far too overstimulated, he admitted to being tired. Choji’s head was resting against one of your thighs as his eyes fell shut, slipping away into a sweet slumber along with you - the puddle of cum in his underwear long forgotten and an issue for after this nap.

Baby said let me taste your silhouette, you can talk between my legs...

[withleeknow]

Can I req something for the milestone event with lee know using this prompt „time passes slower without you.”? ✨

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

patience is a virtue, everybody knows that.

you know it too. the only issue? patience is a virtue that you don't have.

you're an impatient person by nature, born with an inherent restlessness within your bones that keys you up more often than you'd like to admit. in school, you were always thinking about your next degree. with work, you're always thinking about the next big thing, the future position you'll hopefully land once you gain enough experience. you're always waiting for something else, constantly looking forward to the days ahead instead of living in the now. it's a personal flaw, you're well aware of this.

it happens when it comes to even the most mundane things. what cafe should you try next weekend, even if you're not even half done with the caramel macchiato you're holding in your hands? what movie should you watch next, even if the one playing on your tv screen hasn't gone into its second act yet?

your impatience already flares up on a daily basis, but it's even more amplified and unbearable whenever minho is away. it doesn't help that he's often gone for weeks, if not months on end. you're always counting down the days until he's back before he's even out the door.

"just one more week, yeah?"

his words hang heavy in the silence of your bedroom. your phone is on speaker, set against the pillow next to yours so you could pretend like he's here with you when you close your eyes. you try to facetime every day even if it's only for fifteen, twenty minutes. just to catch up on each other's day and at least see each other for a while before you go to sleep. it's bittersweet, being able to look at him and hear him talk but only from the digital void of your phone.

even though you tend to hide from him how you really feel, how much you actually miss him and wish for him to be back by your side, you think it must still bleed through from time to time. be it the subtle way your voice drops during conversation or how your eyes glaze over with sadness just a little bit when you stare at his handsome face for too long on video call.

you know minho is trying to comfort you. he wouldn't be a very good partner if he can't tell that his own girlfriend is having a hard time without him, would he? and it's not like you bitch and moan any chance you get. no, you always try to hide it from him because it's not his fault that he has to be away sometimes, not like he's choosing to leave you just for the fun of it.

you know his gentle reminder is meant to mitigate your ache, but it only makes you be more aware of how time doesn't seem to pass when he's not here. the clock stops ticking the second he's gone, and you feel like you have to drag yourself through every minute of every hour and repeat the process for days and weeks and months.

"one week is too long," you say quietly. "time passes slower without you."

seven days. one hundred and sixty eight hours. ten thousand and eighty minutes. it's practically nothing compared to the time that has already passed, but that doesn't mean that you get to miss him any less even though it's only a two-hour flight away.

minho doesn't really reply directly to what you said. instead, he tries to distract you with anecdotes of his day - like a funny looking pigeon he saw on the street earlier or a cute photo of soonie that his mom sent him. it works a little. he considers it a success when you crack a smile and giggle at his theatrics.

he keeps the conversation light until you're biting back a yawn and he knows it's time to let you get some rest. even when you're saying your goodnights, neither of you mention what day it'll be tomorrow. you're sure that in the morning you'll wake up to messages from him - not entirely poetic because it's not his specialty, but they'll still be infinitely and wonderfully sincere. you don't bring it up in case he feels guilty, and you think he doesn't bring it up because the reminder that he won't be here might make you sleep restlessly tonight.

you fall asleep with a little bit of a heavy heart, and wake up when the sound of your doorbell ringing fills your apartment at precisely 7:06am. the other side of the bed still cold and devoid of your minho, but it's not the first thing that you notice like you do every morning.

no, the first thing that you register today is the vivid discomfort of having your peace disturbed so early on when it should be a day that you get to spend feeling nothing but comfort and contentment. or at least, as content as you can get without minho here. you carry that irritation with you all the way to the front door, wild bedhead and all.

the door swings open.

you're a deer in the headlights and suddenly your displeasure is vanished, gone in a second like it was never there to begin with.

"surpriseee!"

a sheepish greeting.

you rub your eyes, then pinch yourself on the arm.

you're not really sure what happens next. it's all just a blur of tears and ugly sobbing as you launch yourself into his arms, almost making him knock into the suitcase that's still perched right beside him. the bouquet of peonies in his hand becomes an unfortunate victim as it falls to the floor after the impact, but minho leaves it be, in favor of holding you as tightly as you're holding onto him.

his fingers tangled in your hair, your arms wound around his neck securely like you're afraid you're still dreaming and he'll disappear if you let go. you don't question why he's here; you just accept that he is.

minho peppers warm kisses to your cheeks, your jawline, your forehead and your lips. it's graceless and it's damp from your tears but neither of you could bring yourself to care. he murmurs with an upward quirk of his mouth where he's pressing his smile to your lips, all affection, all love. "happy birthday, baby."

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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.03.2024]

[dreamlandcreations]

Knowledge and Power (I)

Darth Maul x Queen of Naboo!Reader

Summary: Maul is afraid that he is not strong enough...

Warnings: angst, nightmares/visions/past and possible future trauma, enemies to lovers, implied smut (naked in bed together), hurt/comfort, fluff, paraphrasing the "Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to. That's the only way to become what you were meant to be." quote, ?implied? plotting murder, reader description (long hair), some soulmate-ish/dyad-like stuff at the end, not proofread so probably a mess 🙈

Started for the Sith/Jedi secrets prompt but I guess it works with Death of the self too

A sequel of last year's @maulweek fic, Beauty and the Beast

~ 1,3 K words

• Darth Maul masterlist •��Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •

• Previous part • Series masterlist • Next part •

Maul was having another nightmare. There were not many tells but you know him by now. He usually sleeps eerily still, his breathing so calm and hearts so slow that you used to (and sometimes still do) have to check if he was alive when you woke up in the middle of the night, not used to having someone sleep next to you.

The nightmares were getting more and more frequent, and if you were correct, increasingly upsetting too. He refused to tell you about them though. That was about to change tonight!

You shake him awake as gently as you can but still find yourself pinned beneath him but instead of the night's previous loving embrace, he grabs you by your throat, ready to get rid of the threat.

It only takes a second or two for him to realise what's happening but it's enough to cause damage in the already fragile bond between you. He rips himself away so fast you can hardly follow, only barely reaching him before he could leave the bed.

You pull him back on you slowly, knowing that the skin to skin contact will help ground him after whatever he had seen. After a little hesitation, he nuzzles into your neck while pulling you impossibly close, holding you tightly with slightly trembling hands as his breathing starts to even out while you caress him ever so gently.

Lately he has been training you and your handmaidens, relentlessly trying to increase his own power too in his freetime. Something was clearly bothering him and instead of turning to you, he started to drift away, like he was preparing to leave.

"You are not alone. Please, tell me what's wrong," you murmur into his ear, and sigh when you feel him tense up again. "Even if I can't help, it could take some of the weight off you if you would just share."

He leans back on his elbows to look into your eyes, contemplating your words for a long minute before finally speaking. "If I tell you, it will put you in even more danger."

"While not knowing will keep me safe?" You question him with a disapproving frown.

Maul leans on his side, holding his weight on one arm so he can cup your face before he steals a kiss, lingering for a long moment then he parts and answers as he keeps brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"If there is a chance that he will spare you because I have not revealed his identity..."

"Is there a chance he would spare you?"He looks away instead of replying to your rather biting cut in, which is enough of an answer on its own. "I also made a promise to protect you, if you think I'll let..."

He turns back to you sharply, his intense gaze no longer dull yellow light in the dark but glowing flames of almost completely red as he practically growls, "I can't lose you."

Silence. Pain. Paralyzing helplessness. Does he truly think you feel any different about him?

You can hardly breathe as you plead, "Tell me what you dream about."

You almost think he will shut you down again but whatever he sees or feels has him give in, only a little though.

"It is not always the same." He starts, pausing to think just how much to tell you but you don't interrupt or demand more, just patiently wait for him.

The truth is, that it is always the same in terms of how it ends. With death. Only he can't tell you that. So he opens with something less ominous but you quickly connect the dots.

"You will have to go to Coruscant soon."

He is there, you think. The mysterious master who is a threat to you both, no matter how much Maul tries to deny it.

"What if we don't go?" you contemplate your options out loud.

"He will come here."

At that statement your brain races with the pieces of this infuriating puzzle that you already gathered. And then it strucks you. Of course! It has to be...

"No, no, no!" Maul gets up and paces in panic. It is unlike anything you have seen from him so far.

"I killed you! I just killed you!" he chants in desperate cries as you hug your blanket and hurry to him.

"Look at me!" you demand as you grab his arm and turn him to face you. His face kept in place between your palms, letting your covers go while forcing him to do as you said, you try to sound soothing as you weakly attempt to reassure you both, "I'm here. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you!"

He breathes out a shaky breath and carefully rests his forehead against yours.

"I am not strong enough to protect you," he whispers in defeat.

"You don't have to fight him alone." You remind him as you circle your arms behind his neck, holding him tightly as you keep murmuring, "You are not alone. I'm here."

Once he calmed down a little, you pull him back to bed, letting him get lost in the touch of you again as you aimlessly caress each other. He unties your braid, spreading your hair on the pillows like a halo and plays with a strand as he tries to stay with you in the moment.

"Love, forming bonds of commitment... It is not something either side embraces, right?" He pulls back and looks confused at your seemingly sudden change of topic but confirms your theory so you go on. "It seems to me that you limit yourself to what he taught you about the Force and that is not even half of the things you could study if something is missing on both sides. Wouldn't you agree?"

He doesn't answer but you know he is thinking about it, you can also tell he is not convinced, at all.

You sit up, making him move as well. Keeping the remaining covers to your chest with one hand, you grip his jaw in your other hand as you anger starts to show. "He is the past, don't let that define you! He can't have you! If he has to die so you'll be completely free of this torment then he will die."

"How?" he growls at you impatiently, like you are talking nonsense.

In response you lean in and nip at his lower lip before sliding away and reaching under the bed.

"I was going to give you this tomorrow."

"What is this?" He looks almost adorable as he eyes the package. Turning it around this way and that way like it is a foreign concept.

"A gift," you huff. "Open it!"

He does and... there's no reaction. Literally, nothing. He stares at the ancient books with a strange expression and says nothing, so you start to explain why you thought to acquire them in the first place.

"I hardly doubt he knows about the Jedi ways, maybe you can find something useful in there. Perhaps it will give you a new perspective, maybe even help to find your own path.

With that, the last barriers that he was adamant to keep up had crumbled between you, his soul wide open for you, connecting the two of you through the Force as it was meant to be.

You gasp at the feeling but you don't have time to question him, Maul surges forward, grabbing you by your nape and capturing your lips in a kiss, devouring you with a hunger even more intense than usual.

That night was the true end of Darth Maul, for he was no longer a Sith apprentice in any way. He was on a new path, going into blindly to fully explore the world and the Force anew. He will never let anyone else define his fate from now on, he vowed. Although he still had doubts, he was no longer afraid of the future because he knew you would be with him, always.

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[beecauseevan]

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December 2023

Once, probably as part of his medic training, Eddie read that shivering is the body's way of producing heat. That textbook lied to him. He's been shivering for at least five minutes now and he doesn't feel warm at all. It might help if he took off his wet clothes, but doing so would leave him not only cold but also naked, and considering that he's not only at work but also sitting in the engine surrounded by his coworkers, that would probably cross some kind of boundary.

If there is such a thing as a boundary within the codependent mess that is the 118. 

"Shut up," he says, to no one in particular. Well, he tries to. It's almost impossible to get the words out. His teeth are chattering so hard he's probably giving dentists everywhere prolonged night terrors.

"Nobody said anything," Hen says calmly, except it's a calculated, careful kind of calm, like she’s walking on eggshells. One wrong step, and she'll set off a chain reaction the team won’t recover from for hours. 

Eddie grits his teeth and pulls the shock blanket tighter around his trembling shoulders.

"It's just," Chim says, into the ensuing silence. His mouth twitches, but he keeps his composure. "It's just, this doesn't happen everyday."

Eddie levels a glare at him, its effectiveness somewhat impaired by all the shivering his body is doing. Chim gives him an innocent smile. Next to him, Hen looks away, staring out the window at LA's glittering streets, the lower half of her face hidden behind a very suspicious hand. In the corner of Eddie's eye, Buck bites down on his bottom lip. 

"It's just," Chim repeats. "I mean. What are the chances? First, you're right there when the pipe bursts, and then you accidentally get stuck in the walk-in freezer? All on the same call?"

Eddie glares some more and tries—and fails—to get his body under control long enough to tell him just what he thinks about that series of unfortunate events. It's no use. The worst part is this: Chim is right. What are the fucking chances? 

"It's just not your day," Buck says, voice shaking with forcefully repressed laughter. "It's not your day at all."

"F-fuck-k y-you."

"Language," Bobby calls out goodnaturedly from the captain's seat.

"Don't be like that," Hen says. "It happens to the best of us."

Chim chimes in, "Does it though?"

And Eddie sighs. "I hate t-this team," he says, as clearly as he can. "I'm going back to dispatch."

That sobers Buck up, at least a little bit. It's been two years since Eddie announced that he was leaving the 118, and nineteen months since he came back, but apparently it's still too soon for that joke. Eddie would feel bad, but the fact that he's currently freezing to death surrounded by a group of very unhelpful first responders, all under LA's beautiful blue sky, means he's really not equipped for that kind of sympathy right now. 

"Don't worry," Buck says, adjusting his mic to make sure Eddie can hear him. "When we get back to the station, I'm gonna make Cap's world-famous chicken soup."

"World-famous is a stretch," Bobby protests, although the warmth in his voice suggests he doesn't mind the compliment.

Buck ignores him. To Eddie, he says, "It'll warm you right up. You'll see."

The first thing Eddie sees when they get back to the station is the inside of a shower stall. When he finally joins Buck up on the loft, twenty or maybe forty minutes have passed and he’s sent a probably unsustainable amount of hot water down the drain. It helped a little, but what helps even more is the smell he's met by when he reaches the kitchen: delicious, salty, savory, warm. 

"Okay," he admits, "That smells amazing."

"It's gonna taste even better," Buck says, glancing at him over his shoulder. He's standing by the stove, stirring a large pot of bubbling goodness. "I used Cap's homemade stock."

"Homemade stock," Eddie repeats. "Right."

Maybe Buck has a point; maybe there is no such thing as too much effort, where Bobby is concerned. Not for the first time, Buck reads his mind.

"I got started on the guest list last night," he says.

"Uh huh," Eddie replies smartly, and heads for the coffee machine. It's almost seventy degrees outside and he just took a prolonged hot shower, but he still feels cold deep inside, in his core. Warm cup in hand, he joins Buck by the stove, leaning against the counter next to him.

"The team is on there," Buck says, "obviously. Uhm. Also, kids, spouses. Girlfriends. Boyfriends. Other significant others, siblings, uh, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins—"

"Everyone," Eddie sums up, smiling into his coffee cup.

"Everyone is welcome," Buck agrees.

That kind of defeats the purpose of a guest list, Eddie thinks, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Buck that. Instead, he asks, "You want to play Secret Santa with 200 people?"

"There won't be that many people." 

"There could be," Eddie says. "And most of them won't even know each other."

Buck pauses his stirring and frowns down into his soup. "Well," he decides after a moment, "they can bond over their bad presents. Who knows? Maybe they'll find friends for life." 

"Why don't we limit the Santa thing to just the team?" Eddie suggests. "Keep it in the family, as they say."

"I don't think they're talking about party games when they say that," Buck argues, "and who's they, anyway?" Eddie just looks at him, waiting. Eventually, Buck sees reason. "Fine. Whatever. Here. Try this."

He's holding out a spoon, filled with that world-famous chicken soup. A thin tendril of steam rises from it. They're standing so close that Eddie doesn't even have to move. He just has to bend his neck a little.

The soup is indulgent and rich, warm and warming. His eyes meet Buck's over the spoon and that warmth shoots through his body like lightning, sparking across his nerves and tingling on his skin. He pulls back slowly and clears his throat.

He’s not cold anymore. Not even a little bit. 

"You're right," he says. "That should be world-famous."

Buck's pleased little smile is almost as warm as the soup. He resumes his stirring. For a few minutes, they just stand together in comfortable silence.

"Hey," Buck says, sometime later, and Eddie's eyes, which were watching Buck's spoon make its lazy circles around the pot, snap up. "Speaking of family. Are you free tomorrow night?"

Written for the @911countdowntochristmas - this was supposed to be 24 drabbles but the Buddie NDE speculation going around pre 8x08 inspired me and now it’s a 24-mini-chaptered fic instead. And definitely more hurt/comfort than fluff. Oops.

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[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Quite the Workout Part 3 -Oneshot

Sorry it took me a minute, but here's part 3. ;) I also don't necessarily like the nicknames Bucky calls reader in this one...but it seemed to fit the vibe of the story. Trigger warning: derogatory name-calling, smut Word count: 2603

Part 1 Part 2

“I’ve never been in this room before,” Y/N said, looking around the smaller workout room.

Bucky hummed.  “It’s one of the private workout rooms.”

She looked around at the equipment lining the walls, the mirror along the wall across from the door and a large mat covering the middle section of the room.  There were no windows, and she wasn’t sure but she thought she heard the click of the lock when Bucky closed the door behind them.  “Why do we need a private workout room if we’re just sparring?” she asked, though she had an inclination as to what it was Bucky had on his mind.

“So I can give you a private lesson,” he said matter-of-factly.  “Who better to learn hand-to-hand combat and sparring with than the one and only ex-Winter Soldier?”

Y/N lifted an eyebrow at him.  “I know hand-to-hand combat, Buck,” Y/N said.  “You’ve seen me do it before.”

“Yes,” he nodded, walking toward her.  “But you’ve never had to go up against me.”

Y/N huffed a laugh as his eyes narrowed, looking like a predator stalking its prey.  “You sure you won’t get a boner while trying to fight me?” she teased.

Bucky’s expression didn’t waver except for his lips slightly curling into a smirk.  “No promises,” he said.  

Y/N rolled her eyes and got into a defensive stance.  She let Bucky circle her, watching him carefully and trying to think of the next steps he could take.  She’d seen him fight in the field multiple times.  He was wicked fast, strategic, and quite lithe for a man his size.  He was taking small steps closer to her each time he circled, almost imperceptibly if she wasn’t so aware of him.  Like lightning he suddenly swung at her, and she barely dodged his attack by mere centimeters.  It slightly scared her, her eyes widening and muscles tensing.  Most people, especially men she had ever had to fight were pretty predictable, they’re bodies indicating what their next move would be with each twitch, back swing and twist.  But Bucky was like a wild cat, slinking toward her one way then surprising her going a different way.  His hits were heavy but precise.  She tried to keep her breathing even and composed.  It would do her no good to panic.  She moved so that her back would never face him, frowning as she focused on the task at hand.

Bucky’s smirk never left his face.  He knew he had the upper hand, and she knew it, too.  As much as she could hold her own against most assailants, an enhanced person was a totally different animal.  He finally stopped moving and waited for her to make the next move, his head tilting in both question and challenge at her.

Y/N couldn’t stand the anticipatory, charged silence and attacked, swinging her arm through the air toward his face.  She knew he would dodge it easily, so as he moved his head she twisted her body and punched his ribs with her other hand at the last second before springing away from him.

Bucky huffed a breath and smiled as he turned to face her.  “Good girl,” he praised her.  “Good strategy.”

Y/N shook out and flexed her hand that landed the punch.  It was like punching a brick wall.  As proud as she was at landing at least one punch, she didn’t let it deter her from being realistic about her chances.  She wasn’t enhanced, didn’t have any powers to help her.  They sparred for a while longer, Y/N doing her best to just not get hit or hurt.  Most of her movements were defensive or evasive, and she could feel her endurance diminishing as time went on.  Bucky seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes raking over her figure more often than not, which only made it harder for her to focus.  

“Would you quit ogling me and just fight?” she finally grunted as she missed hitting his torso once again.

“It’s not my fault you decided to spar with the tiniest, tightest shorts known to mankind,” Bucky retorted, his hungry gaze flitting over her lower half for the hundredth time.  “Trying to distract me with those thighs of yours.”

“Aw, I thought you liked my thighs,” Y/N said patronizingly.  The shorts had been a conscious decision, which he of course picked up on.  

“I do,” he winked.  “And that ass that’s practically hanging out of those shorts.  And what’s peeking at me between your legs every time you kick at me.”

Y/N smirked.  She conveniently hadn’t worn underwear, either.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said nonchalantly.  “I’m just here to spar with my mission partner.  It’s not my fault if he’s a horny, thigh-obsessed, sick little pussy puppy.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at her.  He suddenly sprang forward and tackled her, blocking most of the fall with his body before rolling them over until he was on top of her.  Y/N squirmed and struggled, trying to fight him off but failing miserably as his metal hand gripped both of her wrists and held her hands up above her head and firmly against the mat.  She tried to lift her legs enough to kick him off, but he positioned himself between her legs, keeping them spread wide so she couldn’t bend them high or wide enough to get at him with her feet.  His flesh hand gripped her throat and she gasped as he squeezed.

“Watch your dirty mouth, baby,” Bucky growled, his face an inch away from hers.  His eyes were dark, his nose scrunched and lips curled over his teeth like he was snarling at her.  He looked more dangerous to her than he ever had before, opening up a flood of conflicting emotions that had her body responding in strange ways.  As much as she was panicking at being so easily taken down, her hips were trembling with need, her pussy hot and throbbing at the danger.  “Wearing the smallest shorts with no underwear to try and throw me off.  Once again, proving that if anyone is sick in this relationship, it’s you.”  He kissed her hard, making her hum against mouth as he stole the breath from her lungs.  The kiss was all tongue and teeth, nipping at her lips and sucking on her tongue before quickly pulling away.  He squeezed her neck again and she opened her mouth wide to suck in a breath.  He leaned down and licked a tear that she was unaware had fallen down the side of her face.  “Look at you, so desperate you’re shaking beneath me.  Such a sick, horny, pretty little bitch.”

Y/N nodded, her wrists trying to twist out of his grip.  His flesh hand moved down slowly from her neck and over her chest, kneading her breasts roughly and rucking up her tank top and sports bra so her breasts were exposed before traveling down her torso to the rim of her shorts.  He yanked them down, maneuvering her legs so he could pull them all the way off so she was opened wide and splayed out naked for him.  Y/N was panting at his rough treatment.  They had been together a couple of times since that mission where she had teased him about getting a boner watching her fight, but it had never been this rough or needy before.  She had once again said too much, done too much, and pushed him too far.  This was punishment.

Bucky never let go of her wrists, his metal hand a literal vise pinning her against the mat.  His flesh hand felt her all over, his fingers teasing her cunt and clit before quickly pulling away, then he would lean down and bite or lick along sensitive spots on her body until she was a whining, moaning, crying mess.  

“Bucky…please!” she cried out after he edged her again, pulling his fingers away from her pussy.

She yelped as he slapped her puffy pussy lips.  “What did you call me?” he asked gravelly.

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry,” she pleaded, trying to grind her hips up toward him, his hard cock tenting his sweats and brushing against her every time he moved.  “Please Sergeant!  I can’t, I can’t handle it, please…”

Bucky tickled the space above her pussy with the tips of his fingers, sliding them up her stomach, making her flinch, then kneaded her breasts again, pinching her nipples too hard one at a time.  She thrashed her head back and forth, biting her lower lip to keep herself from being too loud.  Then he slapped her tits, and she shuddered with a long groan.  “You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”

“YES!” she screamed.  “I’m your little slut, Sergeant!”

Bucky smiled.  “Good girl,” he said, then sunk three fingers deep inside her.  Y/N moaned loudly at finally being filled, her head wrenching back against the mat with a thud.  His thumb rubbed at her clit as his fingers squelched in and out of her, changing the pace randomly and sporadically curling his fingers deep inside her, brushing against the special spot and teasing her.  

“Sergeant, can I please cum?” Y/N begged, her legs moving up over his hips and hooking her ankles behind his ass.

“No,” Bucky murmured.

Y/N whimpered at the denial, trying hard to stave off her impending orgasm.  She decided to try something else.  “Sergeant, will you please fuck me with your cock?”  His eyes snapped up to look at her.  “Please?” she quickly added again.  “I want your thick, fat cock inside me.  I need it.  Please?”

Bucky paused for a second before removing his hand from her pussy and pushing down his sweats and boxers just far enough to release his cock.  Y/N moaned at the sight of it, hard, long and thick, pulsing with need like she was.  He stroked himself, wiping her wetness onto himself before rubbing the tip through her lower lips.  She shook again, desperate for him but trying not to move too much for fear that he would take it away.  

“This what you want, baby?” he teased her, rubbing her clit with the tip of his cock.

“Yeah, yes, Sergeant,” she whispered.  

“Is this what your pretty little pussy needs?” he asked, rutting his hips against her so his cock length ran up and down through her pussy lips.  Y/N nodded frantically, shivering each time the head of his cock would catch against her clit or at her entrance.  “Is this what my pretty little bitch needs?  So desperate for my cock.  You gonna take all of me?”  She nodded again, more tears falling down the sides of her face.  “But you’re not gonna cum til I say so, are you, slut?”

Y/N shook her head.  “No, I won’t cum til you say so, Sergeant.  Please!”  She knew how desperate and insane she sounded, but couldn’t find it in herself to care.  It was hard to believe that just a few weeks ago this would have been unfathomable to her.

Bucky hummed, then suddenly slammed himself all the way in with one hard thrust.  Y/N sobbed at finally being filled the way she wanted so perfectly like only he could.  He harshly blew out a puff of air, his eyes shut tight as he tried to keep himself composed.  “Jesus, baby.  Always so tight for me.”  Her pussy fluttered and he moaned.  “Don’t cum,” he grunted, his eyes opening and glaring at her in warning.

Y/N shook her head again.  “I won’t, I–mmh,” she moaned as he snapped his hips into her.  “I won’t,” she whined.  Bucky’s gaze raked over her, his flesh hand moving to grip and feel her thigh over his hip.  He rolled and thrust his hips into her at an agonizingly slow pace, letting her feel every inch of him moving in and out of her.  Y/N’s fingers were going numb from the tight grip of his metal hand around her wrists, and she whined again.  “Sergeant, can I please touch you?”  

Bucky looked like he was getting lost in the sensation of fucking her, and he absentmindedly nodded, his metal fingers releasing her wrists slowly.  She stretched and flexed her hands and fingers as she lowered her arms and reached up to cup the sides of his face.  Her nails scratched his beard and back into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he shivered at the feeling.  Her hands felt him down his back then tugged at the bottom of his shirt, which he quickly pulled off and flung it aside.  With his metal hand now free he used both hands to feel her up, the cool metal feeling soothing against her warm skin.  Her nails dug into his back as his thrusts got harder.  “I love it when you mark me up,” he groaned.  

Bucky’s metal hand moved back up towards her neck, and he gripped her throat while his flesh hand nestled at her pussy.  As his metal fingers slightly squeezed her throat his flesh fingers started flicking at her clit.  Y/N’s hips bucked under him, her legs starting to shake around his hips.  “Sergeant!  Please, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.  Please, can I cum?”  She was begging, something she never thought she would do.  “I’ve been so good for you, Sergeant, please?  Please please please please?”

His metal hand squeezed harder and she gasped, her eyes shutting tight.  His hand moved away and tapped her cheek hard, making her eyes snap back open in shock.  “You think you deserve to cum after teasing me?  After calling me a…what was it?  ‘A sick, little pussy puppy?’”  He was driving his hips into her impressively fast and hard, his flesh fingers never stopping on her clit.

Y/N whimpered.  “I’m sorry, Sergeant.”

Bucky smirked.  “I do love this pretty pussy,” he said, tapping her clit quickly with his fingers.  “So if that makes me a sick puppy, so be it.  But you will always be my pretty, little, desperate-for-my-cock-bitch, won’t you?”          

“Yeeesss,” she hissed when he roughly tapped her clit again.  “Yes, Sergeant.”

“That’s my good girl,” Bucky smiled.  His fingers started rubbing and flicking her clit fast, his thrusts getting more brutal by the second.  Her pussy fluttered around him dangerously and his metal hand went back to her throat, squeezing harder until her eyes rolled back.  “Cum, baby.  Cum on my cock, you desperate cumslut!”

Y/N finally let herself relax enough so that his fingers drove her over the edge and she came hard around him with a garbled scream, her entire body shaking as her vision went white.  She heard Bucky’s loud groan above her and then felt him pull out of her fast, his heavy breaths panting as he stroked himself to finish, then she felt his hot cum spurt onto her right thigh, then a little on her left thigh.  She whimpered, her body limp, nerves feeling shot with overstimulation and yet numb all at the same time.  She felt Bucky’s lips replace his metal hand, kissing the red marks his fingers had made.  

“Good girl…my good fucking girl,” he murmured, nis nose and lips nuzzling along her skin up to her mouth.  “Your thighs have never looked prettier.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, her eyes still closed as his metal hand pulled her by the chin to face upwards so he could kiss her deeply.  She hummed as he pulled away.  “Yes Sergeant.”

[90shetfield]

Security - Art the clown x F!y/n

I FINALLY GOT THE COURAGE TO POST THIS!! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART TWO OR MORE ONE SHOTS IM OPEN TO REQUESTS!!

TW: Blood and bits of gore!! (read at your own risk)

When is this hell going to end? I ask myself that. It's not like I have anyone to talk to in this shit hole. My arms ache, confined with rough rope already giving me marks underneath. The small trickle of blood falls down into the puddle around me. It's not a big puddle, but the deep red crimson liquid is obviously mine. The cuts all around my exposed flesh are enough to make me want to scream…but I can't…I'm trapped. One minute I was okay, going to pick up Vicky’s sister with her and the next. I'm tied up all bloodied and bruised.I don't know where they are, where are my friends? The throbbing of my head hits me harder. I'm so clueless right now and the smell is rancid. It smells like someone died in here , maybe even multiple people. The strong sent cuts through my nostrils causing my face to twitch with disgust.

I'm just worried about my friends. Dawn, Tara, and Vicky. I need to know if they are okay. So many thoughts are clouding my vision and mind. So many questions but no answers. I bite the inside of my cheek, getting more and more hysterical. The situation is really setting in now. Some disgusting creep took me hostage. A singular tear falls down my cheek, the loud beating of my heart echoing in the room.

I hear a loud screech jolting me from my faded thoughts. W-was that vicky? I try to break out of the ropes to save my friend. Rubbing my arm back and forth trying to weasel my way out. All it does is make more blood fall into the pile. My heavy breathing stops as I stop trying to get out. I really am trapped in this disgusting room.

Am I going to die?

More warm tears release from my burning eyes open to the world around me. My chances at living are slim. The loud shout stopped as the eerie silence once again occupied the abandoned building. I beg for just one sound to know my humanity is still here, still intact from this real nightmare.

Then like my prayers were answered I hear the sound of footsteps growing closer to my captivity with every thud of the foot. To say I was hyperventilating is an understatement. I'm in full on panic mode right now. I try one last time to try and get out of the chair to at least have a chance. I thrash around so much that the chair tips over knocking the breath out of me. The footsteps stop at the sudden loud bang coming from in here.

“Shit” I mutter to myself still being attached to the now broken chair. I clench my fists feeling clueless now. All of the crap attempts got me into an even worse spot than I was before. My eyes shut feeling completely out of it. I can't do this, I'm not going to get out. Those words persist in every single image in my mind.

I kept them close for at least a full minute not wanting to see my fate.

I slowly open them back up again only to be met with a gaze of piercing black ones staring into mine. I let out a blood curdling scream being able to make a sound now. His gaunt facial features are plastered with heavy amounts of white face paint, only black around his eyes and mouth leaving a dot on the tip of his sharp nose. He pointed at me, face contorting in a gigantic smile almost as if he was egging me on for the attempt. I take notice of the red liquid all over him, staining his clown costume? It's not unusual to be dressed like this because it's halloween night but that blood isn't fake…it's real…

He walks behind my chair pushing it back to its original position. It is broken now it  just becomes very unstable, like my mental state. My eyebrows knit together as he stands right in front of me again. The face doesn’t stop smiling. He gives me a wave before sitting down criss-crossing on the floor ahead of me.

“Who are you?” I say softly not wanting to show how petrified I really am. He gives a shrug reaching out and touching the cuts on my leg. I feel the sharp jerk of pain on my ankle where the cut he was touching was. He used the blood to spell out three letters on the dirty pavement. I look down seeing them. He points proud at his art, Because it literally spells art

“Art? Your name is Art?” He nods eagerly, clapping his hands happily. I got what he was trying to convey. A bunch of this stuff still isn't making sense though. He gets back up and unties my hands from the rope. I gasp in a sigh of relief raising my hand to see the damage.

“Did you put me here? Do you know where my friends are?” He nodded again. So he does know where they are.

“Are they okay? His smile somehow gets even bigger. He shakes his head no showing off his bloody costume. 

“No!” I clench my jaw falling out of my seat onto the cold unkept floor. I repeat the word over and over again not believing it was true. He knows even if he untied me I couldn't get out with how much I was battered. His eyes look soulless like there's nothing left. I'm going to end up just like them, a rotting corpse. He continues to mock and berate me using only his gestures and movement.

The tears reappear. I can't believe this..i refuse to believe it..how could such a guy do such a thing with no remorse. He looks down at my pathetic stature but his smile isn't there anymore instead he just stares at me, with awe? I'm not sure how he's looking at me but shouldn't he have killed me by now? Or am i just a little puppet he gets to play with until he rips me limb from limb

“Please…im begging you… don't kill me..” I plead for my life hoping it will at least get him to reconsider. I'm imagining their dead bodies on the floor next to me, they tried to fight but they couldn’t overpower him and his insanity. He put his foot on my stomach ready to stomp on me till i'm bits. All of that energy I had trying to break loose from the ropes has faded away by now only leaving me with a broken spirit knowing my time is coming up.

“If you have a heart you’ll let me live, i believe you do..” he lowers his foot from my stomach and walks away going over to the black garbage bag he carried into here because i don't remember it in here before. I hear the clashing of metal objects as he wanders around the giant back for something. He smiles again giving me a devious look. I'm paralyzed in my place shaking. He's going to do what I think he's going to do. He kicks me with uncertainty to get my attention. It wasn’t a hard kick, just unsure, like this has never happened to him before. I sat up looking at him. A small twinkle in his sad eyes is now present. He shows me a little baby doll taking my hand and placing it into it.

“You want me to have this art?” I rub the baby’s porcelain face. The blood from a victim comes off onto my thumb. I feel a warm sensation at the unusual gesture from a serial killer. He gives a thumbs up patting me on the head.

When I try to tell him thank you he's already gone taking the trash bag with him. My mouth is wide open, I'm shell shocked. Did he just let me live? I don't even care right now. This stupid baby doll gives me a small hope of security and happiness in this dark time. I cradle it humming one of my favorite songs waiting for his return.

(please don't hate on me for this if its shit this is my first fic in a while! Might have spelling errors and stuff like that!You are more than welcome to give me suggestions on how to improve my writing I'm open to that always! TYSMMM FOR READING)

-Maxine

[eightstarr]

i know — van palmer.

summary: you can't remember a life before van, but there was one. there must've been one. it feels ridiculous to think about. you'd rather think about her, rather think about this— two moments then, and two moments now (and so, so many to come).

notes: heyyy i know i said i would post this like a month ago, i fully forgot!! if there was like one person waiting i'm sorry and i love you sm <3 also this ignores the plot entirely and i wanna make that very clear just in case!! it's like a nothing happened and we're all okay au! anyway here's to my loser girl and to whoever also finds themselves staring at the wall in silence thinking about her :)

・。.・゜✧・. ────

THEN.

"You're hogging the blanket," Jackie mutters over a mouthful of popcorn, purple polished nails tugging at the soft fabric.

She's right— you are. "I'm not," you say, and bring your legs close to your chest partly so they can offer some kind of comfort, but mostly so they're not touching the unknown dangers of the floor anymore.

The TV flashes red and Jackie's living room is bathed in it, along with all your faces.

Shauna snorts at a man getting brutally and very unrealistically decapitated on the screen and pulls her own blanket closer to her best friend before she even has to ask. They do that a lot; talk without words. Any other time you would've noticed, thought that's cute and smiled to yourself, but right now you're too terrified.

The movie is bad. Or, that's what you have to keep reminding yourself of. It's lazy in a way that's bordering on comical and needlessly violent in a way that proves that it was written by a man with interesting fantasies. You shouldn't be scared, but you are.

Another death earns you a few minutes of quiet, though you know the build up to the next one will be worse. The characters cry and fret over the dead body of their friend but the killer is nowhere to be seen, disappearing conveniently into the night. You're granted a scene of daylight but the sun comes and goes, and then the screen turns to dark violets and blues again and you're tensing up in your seat.

It's fine, at first— the pretty blonde girl is yielding a kitchen knife and walking around while her muscled boyfriend boards up the windows of the big house. Lottie shifts where she's sitting on the floor next to Laura Lee's legs and whispers about why they would lock themselves in instead of taking their chances outside, which is 'obviously the smartest thing to do'. You don't have time to process what she's saying because suddenly an ax is clawing its way through one of the windows and the characters are screaming and, well, so are you.

"Fuck!" You curse, jumping and landing yourself halfway into Van's lap, the softness of her thighs under your own, your back against her chest.

Van blinks, more startled by your reaction than the scene itself, her hands coming up to steady you and then immediately dropping back down a second after they brush over the cotton of your shirt. She lets out a shaky breath and does not think about how good your weight feels on top of her, because that would be a bad thought, a questionable thought. And it should not have been the first one to pop into her mind. Definitely not. That would be embarrassing. That would be bad.

You cover your eyes with one hand as the sounds of screaming come to a crescendo and hold one of her hands tightly with the other, mumbling sorry, sorry, sorry as if you're doing something wrong. As if you don't know that, even if you were, Van is incapable of being mad at you. Famously so. Everybody knows.

She looks around the room to the rest of the girls. No one is staring, too busy chewing popcorn and wrinkling their noses at the more gruesome special effects. Van turns her head back to you. A million thoughts rush in, overwhelming and unforgiving. Something about the soft tint of chapstick on your lips, the curve of your nose, the shape of your fingers. Things she's noticed before -Van is often greedy of all your details-, but not in this way, never from this close. She can smell your shampoo from here. Somewhere in the back of her mind, over the scent of honey and strawberries, she wonders if she's going insane.

Your body noticeably relaxes as the violence dissipates, your grasp on her hand loosening slightly. When you uncover your eyes, the final girl is clawing her way through the woods. You're unsure of how she got out of the house, but too comforted by the thought of the movie finally coming to an end to care.

Van is scared to say anything, scared to move— if she does, you might push yourself off of her, ignore her for the rest of the night because you're embarrassed. The thought is ridiculous. You'd never ignore her, you're not that kind of person, but it's what she would do. Except she'd probably never be in this position in the first place, because she'd never be brave enough to throw herself on your lap, even if she was as scared as you were. And that's just it anyway, it's not like you chose to do this. You didn't pick her. You would've found the same comfort in anyone's arms. Right? Van feels you shift closer, just slightly, like you're unaware of it. Right?

Her forehead falls on your shoulder as she thinks herself sick.

"It's scary, right?" You whisper, confusing her crisis for fear. Your fingers wrap around her bicep, soft and absentminded when they brush up and down her skin, trying to make her feel better.

Van feels her stomach flip, her hands twitch. In another world, she would wrap her arms around your waist and press her lips to your ear, mumble something stupid like if you say so, baby just to annoy you. Here, though, all she does is nod her head. She whispers back, "Yeah, it is."

She looks up at the screen, tries to be scared, to be invested. You relax further into her, personal and comfortable as if there's no one in the room but the two of you. Van blinks. She can't give you the name of the girl on the screen. A minute passes and your back straightens suddenly, but you don't rush to slide off her lap. You do it carefully, not because you want to but because you're worried about making her uncomfortable. Van wants to pull you back but she's never faced anything as daunting. She comforts herself with the thought that one day she will, a hungry attempt at manifesting or breaking a mental wishbone or something. For now, she follows you with her eyes and feels her anxiety melt away when you notice her staring and give her a smile. The movie's not yet over. She looks back. Who's the bad guy again?

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

NOW.

Van likes to pretend that she's a better cook than she is. Someone else might find it funny, annoying even, but you can't find it anything but cute. You love telling her that you've run out of food and watch her scoff and puff up her chest.

"I'll make you something out of nothing," she'll say. Then she'll open the fridge and bend at the waist, stare at said nothing for a solid two minutes before resurfacing and declaring that she's craving pizza from the place down the street, anyway, so there's no point in cooking.

At the grocery store the next day, you make sure to buy the essentials for the one pasta recipe that she does actually know how to make. Van likes to feel useful. And you like to indulge her every need, maybe a little too much.

You pick the sweetest looking tomatoes for the sauce, no real expertise behind your method— you're not exactly an amazing chef, either, but the two of you do just fine. Someone calls your name in the middle of bagging the last tomato and you turn to meet a face you had almost forgotten about.

"Katie Lopez?" Van asks again, staring at the folded piece of paper with the almost-stranger's number that you'd gotten without asking (a friendly gesture, you're pretty sure) after a slightly lengthy conversation that carried on even after your multiple anyway, I should probably get going's.

You're telling Van about the encounter while washing the tomatoes in the sink, sleeves rolled up. Your cheeks are warm with kisses like they always are when you make it back to her, as if she wants to reward you for it. You've been hers for so long, and she's still amazed at the fact that you come home to her. "Yes," you repeat. "Why is that so shocking?"

"It's not," she says, flicking the paper where it sits on the counter, kinder than her original need to ball it up or light it on fire or something even more dramatic. She moves to open the cabinet and starts putting away the canned goods you've brought. "I just didn't know you guys were close."

"We're not. She was just being polite."

Van hums. For a moment you think she'll let it go, but of course she won't. She doesn't like the thought of someone flirting with you when she's not there and she especially doesn't like the thought of that someone being Katie fucking Lopez, who's most memorable for fingering girls in the bathroom for most of your shared high school experience.

Van clears her throat and the cabinet closes with a thud louder than she intended, definitely not because she was caught up picturing you under Katie's gaze. She means to sound casual, but she's not trying very hard when she asks, "She ever try to get with you?"

You spare her a single glance, as if to check that she's serious. Of course she is. "What, in high school?" You shake your head, chuckling like the idea is funny. "No. She was more into the cheerleader type."

Van knows that you're right. Still, she squints her eyes at you, ginger hair leaning to one side when she tilts her head. "Is that a hint of resentment that I'm hearing?"

You've gotten good at knowing how to handle her jealousy. It's only fair, considering that she's gotten good at handling yours. Neither are ever that serious. "I was making a neutral observation."

You know she's creeping closer before you feel it. You know her too well. "Yeah?" She mutters, her hands on your hips as she presses herself to your back. Her nose is familiarly cold where it brushes against your neck.

You dry your hands and lean back on instinct, and she doesn't flinch at the added feeling of your weight. Van can be a lot like a brick wall, but you don't usually tell her that, unless you're feeling extra sweet and want her to grin like a cocky little shit for the rest of the day. "You were into that type, too."

Van scoffs, a soft gust of air on your neck. "I was into you," she says.

You hum, purely fucking with her. "Maybe."

"May— what the fuck are you talking about?" She pulls away just enough to prove that she's actually offended. And she is, because the idea is ludicrous and yeah, she's taking it personally. You can question Van about anything you want, except for the fact that she's been in love with you for more than half of her life. "When did you ever see me looking at cheerleaders?" She asks.

You and Van work for a lot of reasons. You work because you're different where it matters, enough to balance each other out, and you work because you're the same in everything else. You might've been just teasing her at first, but now the thought does that stupid thing where it starts to linger and -just like she had thought about you and Katie- you can almost picture it in your head, a younger Van standing on the soccer field, her eyes trailing over a girl's short uniform skirt. You roll your eyes, annoyed mostly at yourself. "Oh, don't act like you wouldn't have loved for them to shout your stupid name."

Van chuckles. She can read your train of thought like a book. She knows you too well. "Stupid name, huh? You're cute when you're jealous." And a little mean, too, but in a way that makes her weak in the knees. She won't be telling you that part. You already know, anyway.

You pull the hands that are wrapped around your waist away from you. Van lets you— she wants to see where this is going. "Not jealous," you mutter.

"No?" She teases, half-heartedly disappointed when you don't turn around to let her kiss you.

You look at her over your shoulder and then make eye contact with the piece of paper on the counter, recalling the words of your old classmate. Call me whenever. We should totally hang out. You're too old to be telling people you should 'totally hang out', but Katie Lopez hasn't changed much from the last time you saw her. You hold back the urge to wrinkle your nose at the memory of that same teenager-trying-to-be-cool smirk that she gave you throughout the whole interaction and hum thoughtfully, like you've been tempted. "Maybe I will call her—" you take one step towards the counter in a half assed attempt to reach for the paper but Van is unusually quick as she strides forward and takes it in her hands, tongue poking into the inside of her cheek as she rips it in two. "Van!" You gasp.

"What? Don't tell me you were actually gonna use it," she pouts. "You're breaking my heart, baby."

You try to take the two pieces away from her and all you earn is her breaking it in four, holding it above your head. You're laughing as you slap her shoulder. "God, you're so stupid."

Van raises her eyebrows, mismatched numbers wrinkled in her hand. She drops them on the counter in favor of cupping your face, pressing a contained short peck to your lips. Don't feel bad, she won't hold back for long. "Stupid like my name?"

"I love your name," you shake your head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love it. Just as long as it's mine to say."

It is yours, but you know that already.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

THEN.

Van's room smells like the incense you got her. You wonder if she used it just to appease you because she knew you were coming, but it's a silly thought. Van likes you. You know this now. She takes everything you give her (your time, your smiles, your kisses) like it's a precious gift, so you can't imagine that she would neglect an actual gift.

Your grandmother said you should light the incense before a game, to bring you good luck and calm your nerves, and you're not ashamed to admit that you bought Van her own pack the very next day. Everything makes you think about her lately, especially this kind of thing. You're not even sure that the incense works, but why wouldn't you share it with her? She deserves all of it— good luck, a stomach free of nerves, at the very least a nice lingering scent if your grandma's beliefs turn out to be a myth. But you hope they don't.

Your girlfriend is anxious more often than you are, but never really about a game. Van knows that she's good at soccer. She's nervous about other things. Keeping her side of the house clean, being able to afford Sinéad O'Connor tickets, what her mom's mood will be like tomorrow, English assignments but only because she thinks the professor is the coolest guy alive and she wants to impress him even if she won't admit it. And lately, there's another thing. She worries about whether you'll look at her one day and realize that you're too good for her.

You know about some of her anxieties, but clearly not all of them. She can picture your reaction if she were to share the last one with you, how your face would scrunch up and you'd look at her with eyes so loving and so sad. She can almost hear you ask, soft and patient, why would you think that? And she wouldn't know what to say. There's comfort in the fact that the worry is there, but it's not constant. Van only worries about that when you're gone. When you're in front of her, or sitting next to her in class, or talking to her on the phone, it's hard to imagine that you'll ever stop liking her. She takes in your smile, your laughter, your sparkling eyes and she can't think about anything else. You make all of it go away. If you asked her, she would tell you that she thinks the incense works, but only because it came from you.

She can smell it faintly from where she is now, but there are a hundred other things overwhelming her more— the feeling of your legs on either side of her, the sound of your bracelets clinking together when you move your arms to rest them next to her head and cage her in, the sight of you leaning in to kiss her. It's easy to say, she's only been dating you for three months, but Van is sure that she will never get tired of this.

She hums against your lips, something too close to a moan. Her cheeks are red when you pull away, and you're not sure if it was the sound she made or the regretful, kind of embarrassing thing she has to tell you that gave her that reaction. "My mom will be home in, like, five minutes," she says, raspy and breathy.

Her voice distracts you. Your lips are tingling. "Okay," you say, nodding your head even though it takes you another three seconds to actually process what she said.

This is where you sit up, break apart. Neither of you move.

You smile and lean back down to kiss her again, stomach fluttering from the sound of her giggling as you tilt your head back. How are you supposed to stop when she's so fucking— so cute, so handsome, so in love with you. You've never felt so secure of another person's feelings for you before, but it's impossible to doubt Van. She makes you confident, makes sure that you know at all times. Might as well be saying I love you, I love you, I love you between each kiss that she pulls you back into.

It takes everything in you to break away from her, but you have to. "Fuck, okay. I gotta go," you mutter. You have to. You'll see her tomorrow. It should be embarrassing how greedy she makes you.

She watches as you sit up on her lap, your skirt bunched up over the crotch of her jeans. You must notice her looking, because you're laughing like you can read her mind when she huffs and covers her face with her arms, her lips pursed as she suppresses an even more embarrassing sound than the one she made before.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you insist, like saying it outloud will make leaving easier. You stand up and brush your hands over your hair, flattening the flyaways. Then you grab your backpack from the floor (don't think about the pretty pin she got you a few days ago, because it'll make you want to kiss her again) and walk over to her window.

You could take your chances with the front door, but you don't want to. Van was afraid that her neighbors would see you and innocently mention it to her mom, say something like oh, I saw that Vanessa's friend came by the other day. Van wishes it could be left at that, but her mom is rarely that simple. She looked so worried as she told you about it, so ashamed. You kissed her cheek and promised yourself you'd get good at climbing.

She comes closer as you climb to the other side, getting your footing on the familiar edge of the wall, and she hisses when you let go of the window railing to reach over and cup her face. You don't have to pull for her to bend down and let you kiss her, your thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

"Please don't fall," she's saying as you make your way down.

You look up at her and smile, and Van thinks you're so pretty that she misses the mischievousness behind it. "Have a little faith in me— oh, fuck!"

Van flinches, bumping her head on the window with how quick she moves to look down at you. The sound of your laughter makes her realize your hands never left their safe grip. Her shoulders relax. "Oh my God, fuck you," she scoffs, though she's too relieved for it to have any real bite.

"What were you even gonna do?" You ask, still giggling.

She shrugs, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know, fucking— grab you or something."

"Your arms are too short to reach me from up there."

"I take offense to that."

"Well, I'm sorry," you sigh, tilting your head. "Doesn't make it any less true."

"I better not hear you asking for my short arms to carry you after practice tomorrow," Van huffs, said arms now crossed over her chest.

You look up at her in disbelief, raising your eyebrows. "I have literally never asked you for that, you always offer."

She shifts slightly where she stands, moves her weight from one leg to the other, caught. "Because I can do it," she mutters.

"Yes, I know. You're very strong, baby."

Van rolls her eyes, choosing to believe that you're teasing her because if she believes that you're being genuine she might die.

Your feet hit the ground with a thud. You do a silly curtsy, as if to say ta-da! and Van thinks you're so cute she's certain that she'll die. You give her one last grin and blow her a kiss before sneaking away from her house into the night.

Van goes to bed with her cheeks aching from smiling, her bed smelling of your perfume, and the faint sound of her brain screaming (terrified, celebrating) you are fucked!

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

NOW.

"I wish I'd asked you to prom," your voice is muffled by her sweatshirt, lips partly pressed against her shoulder.

Van snorts, looking down at you. "What?"

"You never went," you explain, and you have that look on your face, like you've been thinking about this for weeks. Like you could cry. Van presses pause on the (admittedly) shitty action film she'd chosen and lets you try to get your thoughts out. "I really wanted you there. You would've liked it."

She lets out a sigh through her nose, a hand coming to rest against your cheek. "I really don't know if that's true, honey," she says honestly.

You straighten your back a little, a tiny frown on your face like you get when you've been challenged. "You would've liked it. You love to dance and the DJ was, like, surprisingly good. And Ms. Dawson actually said yes to a dance with Peter K., even though that was highly inappropriate now that I think about it. But it was funny at the time— and Natalie snuck in a bottle of vodka."

"Yeah?" She asks, awfully endeared even when she's heard the story a million times before. You'd told her all about it the day after prom, your voice groggy and sleepy over the phone. She had felt lame about having missed it, but a thousand times better as soon as she picked up the phone, giggling in her bed like a fool at every detail you gave her.

You wrap your fingers around the hand on your cheek, press a kiss against her palm. "You would've loved it," you say, sounding somehow more convinced than before. "I should've asked you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I was a dick," you insist. "I was a coward—"

"Hey, no. No," Van sits up from her lazy posture, two thin wrinkles between her eyebrows when she frowns. They look good on her. You remember when they weren't there, and it always makes you a little emotional. "Don't say that. You weren't."

"But I was," you try to reason, stubborn to a fault. "I'm not, like, condemning myself. I'm stating a fact."

Her frown deepens. "Well, I don't like it. And I don't think it's a fact."

You didn't mean for this to turn into an argument, but you're not exactly thinking about that at the moment. It happens— you've let the thought saturate in your brain for too long and now you're stuck thinking that you're right. "Why are you arguing with me right now?" You ask, not being petty but genuinely wanting to know.

Van huffs a frustrated breath. "Because I thought about asking you to prom for years, okay?" She says, crawling with embarrassment. "I told myself I would over and over again and then I fucking didn't. If you were a coward, what does that make me?"

You pause, guilt swirling in your stomach because you realize all at once that you've been poking on a tender bruise you didn't even know existed. "Van," you say softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

She sighs, almost a chuckle. She can be so mean to herself, so condescending about her own feelings. You know she's not laughing at you, or disregarding you in any way— it's just what she does when she feels like she's humiliated herself. Especially when you're there to watch, looking at her so kindly when she's certain she deserves none of it. "Yeah, well. That was intentional," she mutters.

You let her look away from you for a moment before you push yourself onto your knees, placing one on each side of her hips. She welcomes you like she always does when you come to sit on her lap now, her hands on your waist and her face falling forward to press kisses over your collarbone. A thoughtless motion, automatic.

"Sweet girl," you hum, guiding her head up with a careful hand, smiling when you meet her eyes. "We should've gone out dancing alone. Would've been way more fun."

Van breathes out a laugh. She wonders if she'll cry, and feels like she could. "Yeah," she agrees.

"I would've said yes, you know. I'm not blaming you for not asking me, I get why you didn't. I really do. But it's important to me that you know that." You brush a strand of hair behind her ear. It's pretty, and getting long. In no time she'll be asking you to wash it over the sink and trim it with your fancy hair scissors, like you've been doing since you got back together when you were twenty five after a stupid argument that led to a two years long break. It wasn't a good time for either of you, but you don't regret it. You have the rest of your life to live with her. Still, there will always be things like this— arguments about deep buried shame, fears that might never go away, moments you missed that other high school sweethearts didn't because their worries weren't like yours. It's sad, but not inescapable all the time. You and Van don't blame each other for any of it. But sometimes you need to be reminded of that.

"I know," she nods, her voice in that soft, quiet tone that you love but rarely get with how passionate she is. It's not a hardship, you love that just as much. "I think maybe that's why— why I was so freaked out. Like, if you said yes, it would become real."

You nod and chuckle a little, sweet and airy. "And you'd have to actually start to date me? Yeah, I would be scared," you joke.

Van buries her face in your chest with a groan. "That's all I fucking wanted," she says, feeling too honest to play along like she usually would.

You let her stay there for a while, her nose brushing against the rise and fall of your chest. Wanna be here forever, she'd told you once, with cold fingers sneaking under your shirt, more than a little drunk. You have been making fun of her about it for ages, but it tugs at something different today. It makes you pull her softly with a hand on the back of her neck, just enough to press your lips against hers, not wanting to deny her any of your warmth that she might crave.

Van hums against your lips, moving where you want her when your hands guide her own from your waist down to your hips. You press your chest against hers like you know she likes and she moans into your mouth, a hand moving to press against your back and force you closer.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you," you mumble when she lets you pull apart, speaking close to her ear as you kiss her cheek, lips soft over old acne scars and sunspots.

Van shakes her head. "I don't care," she promises, smiling like she does when she's about to say something corny. "Look at me now," she shrugs, fake humble. "I got the girl in the end."

You laugh against her smirk and kiss her until she's lifting your hips and pushing you down on the couch, your back against the worn pillows, a hand on the back of your head in case you bump it on the arm rest. You like when she moves you around just to show off, reminds you of when you were younger and she'd flex her muscles just because she knew you were looking. She might not be the same type of strong now, but she can still pull out some tricks when she wants to. And with you, Van often wants to.

She tilts her head back when you try to pull her in for another kiss, sighing as she gets comfortable on top of you. She almost gives up the act when you pout at her, blinking your pretty eyes, but instead she leans her weight on one hand next to your head and says, "That is, of course, if she doesn't leave me for Katie Lopez's magic fingers."

Van expects you to roll your eyes, slap her shoulder so she can say ouch! and dramatically rest her hand over the wounded spot. Instead, you slide your hand over hers where it's resting against your hip, intertwining your fingers together and smiling pretty, tilting your head. "Mmh, but I have the best fingers right here."

Van scoffs, playing amused rather than speechless because she's trying not to show you how much your words get to her. It's embarrassing how proud it makes her, how quickly she melts into the palm of your hand when you as much as imply that she's good at something, that you would pick her over everyone else, that you want her like she wants you. Praise from others makes her smile and say thank you, but praise from you reaches her core, makes her dizzy. Her lips feel dry and her tongue pokes out absentmindedly to lick them as you guide her hand up. Van barely registers the movement, too busy watching your face— how beautiful that she gets to see it all the time now, that she knows all the details like you know hers.

Her fingertips come to rest against your lips and her breath stutters as she tries desperately to maintain any sense of coolness or dignity or fucking something while you kiss each one, soft and attentive. She's thinking, is she insane for finding it as thrilling as she does, even after all these years? Do you know what you do to her? You can't possibly know, Van almost decides, but then you part your lips to slide two of her fingers into your mouth and she thinks that you do. You definitely know.

"F—fuck," she breathes out, and tries to remember her original plan to tease you but can't recall your old classmate's name. "You trying to butter me up?" She asks, her chuckle trembling but deep, from the back of her throat.

Her fingers slip from your mouth with a soft pop, and Van groans. You hum, "Is it working?"

You're mean, evil. You're the sweetest thing she's ever seen. Two things can be true at once. You're a dream, and you're not like this for anyone else. The thought echoes through her skull, warm and infectious. Van smirks. "Yeah."

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 protector: chapter thirteen

synopsis: " you were supposed to stay a crewate, just another back to watch, " he tightened his hold, " i didn't even notice the change until i woke up one day and realized i'd take a bullet for you "

cw: violence, gore, fighting, mature themes, profanity, MAJOR/MINOR ANIME SPOILERS, follows the plot of the anime, slowww burn.

a/n: reposting from another account

You woke up to the stale smell of disinfectant and bandages, the scent already telling you that you were in some sort of infirmary.

"Crap," you hissed, looking down at yourself.

You sat up and swung your legs over to the side of the bed, allowing yourself to get up and walk out the building, the idea of shoes being pushed far back in your memory.

The night was warm and when you made it to the town square, you could only smile, as everyone was passed out, sleepy grins on everyone's faces.

You walked over to a sake stand to see Sanji sitting propped up against a wall, sleeping happily with about three women under him.

You lightly snickered and grabbed a big sake bottle, turning around to take a walk.

The moon was beautifully full, its brilliant light bathing the whole town.

You smiled to yourself as you popped the cork of the bottle, taking a big swig as you continued down the main road. 

"Finally woke up?" a familiar voice asked.

Your breath hitched and you quickly turned to where the voice came from, only to see Zoro in an alley, sitting on a bench with a candle stand illuminating half of his face.

You took a breath of relief and walked over, sitting on the floor across from him.

The two of you sat there in silence for a few minutes, taking swigs of your respective bottles, when he spoke up again.

"How did you heal so quickly?" he started, his tone serious as he turned to look up at the moon.

The air caught in your throat.

'Crap! Came straight out the gate with it.'

He noticed your hesitation and sighed, crossing his arms.

"If you don't wanna tell me, you don't have to. But just know that people'll start becoming suspicious if one minute you look an inch from death and the next you're the image of perfect health."

"I know that," you snappily answered, gripping the fabric of your skirt tight.

He cocked a brow at your sudden change in tone.

"Believe me, I know that more than you will ever realize. My entire life has revolved around the fact that I can do what I can do. But I made a promise to someone that I wouldn't let anyone use my power for their gain."

You looked down at your lap, unable to bare his eye contact for a second more.

He was staring into your soul, so intensely that it was as if he could see into you, and maybe even a little past that.

"To heal in front of people would bring too much attention. It's not like I can completely control it anyway. And even if I could I—" "Do you really take us as those kinds of people?" he quickly and firmly interrupted.

Your heart stopped and the breath caught in your throat.

"I couldn't... I couldn't take that chance. Not after what I've been through." 

You looked up from your lap, nervous to see the swordsman's reaction.

But to your surprise, his features softened, and he took a long swig of his sake bottle.

"I'm not gonna force you to tell me something you're not comfortable with," he started, wiping the excess alcohol that ran down his lips.

It made you feel hot, and you did your best to discreetly shift your position.

"Just know that when you're ready, if you're ever ready, I'll be here."

A small smile crept onto your lips, and you loosened your grip on your bottle, smiling down at it

"Thanks, Zoro."

His signature smirk found his way to his face, and he gave you a sincere look.

"Don't mention it."

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the nighttime symphony that the sleepy island had to offer.

"And, (y/n)," Zoro chimed, resting his arms on the back of the bench.

"Yeah?"

"I remembered what you asked when we first met. And I wanted to say I'm sorry. I don't know who Doflamingo is. Never heard of him, or even seen him before."

You softly smiled, turning your attention to the moon once more.

"I figured as much, and it's alright. I'll find my own way to Doflamingo. I'm bound to run into him somewhere on the Grand Line."

Your smile slowly morphed into a smirk as you drew your mace, carefully gliding your fingers over the sharpened spikes.

"And when I do... it'll be my personal pleasure to make sure that this mace is the last thing he ever sees."

"This is the last one, right?" Usopp asked as Zoro brought the last two crates of provisions onto the Merry.

"Yeah," the swordsman nodded, hoisting himself up on deck.

"Alright. We're stocked up with everything we need. I think we're good to go," Sanji smiled.

"It'll be nice to get back out on the open sea," you happily sighed from your spot on the taffrail.

"We can't than you enough for everything you've done for us, but we gotta go back to our regular jobs as bounty hunters," Yosaku chimed from the dock below, him and Johnny in some weird pose.

"So, this is goodbye. I hope we get to meet again someday," Johnny waved.

Zoro smirked, his hand resting on the hilt of his swords, "See ya 'round."

"Yeah! Now it's time for us to get going," Usopp cheesed.

"Huh? What about Nami?" you asked, cocking a brow.

"Yeah! We can't leave without her!" Sanji exclaimed.

"Well maybe she's not coming," Zoro shrugged.

Sanji gasped, "Huh?! Why wouldn't she?! I swear if you hit on her, mosshead, I'll kick you into next week!"

Something in the back of your head made you listen closer to Zoro's reply, to see what he would say, or rather, what you hoped he wouldn't say.

For personal reasons... unknown at the moment.

"Why would I do something like that?" Zoro scoffed, confused.

You released a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

"She has to come! Without her, I have like 99.72% less reason to stay with you people on this stupid pirate ship!"

"Hey!" you pouted.

"Sorry, (y/n), my dear. 49.86%" Sanji quickly corrected.

"Can you guys just—" "Hey, Nami!" you smiled, waving to the red-headed girl who stood on a hill.

"NAMI!" Sanji squealed, leaning over the edge of the boat to get a good look at her.

"Set the sails!" she shouted, sprinting towards the boat.

The whole crew paused, sharing confused looks.

"I'm not getting it. Why is she running?" Usopp asked, scratching his head.

"She said set the sails!" Luffy nodded, tipping his hat, "SET SAIL!"

You smiled, unfurling your wings and flying up to the main mast, untying the ropes that kept the primary sail taught.

Zoro went off to pull up the anchor, Usopp turning the angle of the upper yard, while Luffy and Sanji watched Nami draw closer.

"You sure you wanna let her leave like this?" Sanji asked, cigarette in hand.

"It's her decision. She does what she wants," Luffy shrugged.

Sitting on the upper yard, you watched Nami weave through the the crowd of villagers until she made it to the end of the dock, of which she jumped off and landed on deck.

The shouts of the villagers quieted as she stood there, slowly lifting up her shirt, a plethora of wallets and purses falling out from under it.

"Thanks a bunch!" she smiled as she turned to the crowd, giving a berry note a peck. 

"Nice snag," you approved, flying down and landing next to her.

"She's still the same," Usopp sighed.

"I'd watch my back," Zoro pouted, glaring at the woman. 

Unserious, of course.

Luffy laughed heartily as the island started to become farther and farther away.

"You lousy pickpocket! We'll miss you!" Genzo shouted, smiling.

"Goodbye, everybody! I'll miss you! Take care!" She cheesed, waving goodbye to all her friends and family.

It made you smile. 

Nami and Genzo's relationship reminded you of how a certain someone used to be.

You leaned on the taffrail, your grip on it tightening at the memory.

'Cora.'

[rex-meshla]

Shadows of the Force

PAIRING | Captain Rex x F!OC (Stella Cardone) WORD COUNT | 5.2k PREVIOUS CHAPTER TAGLIST | @cw80831

Chapter 9: A Captain's Concern

Anakin wasn't one to let second chances go to waste, and neither was I. 

The following morning, I was back in the field, standing beside the 501st as they prepped for their next deployment.

"Good to see you back, Commander," Jesse said as he passed by, his grin teasing. "Thought you'd gone soft on us after all that sitting around."

"Soft?" I shot back, arching an eyebrow. "Let's just say I was on probation, Jesse. But don't get too comfortable, I'm still fast enough to outrun you."

Echo, passing by with his helmet tucked under one arm, smirked. "She's got you there, Jesse."

Jesse scoffed, feigning offense. "Probation or not, Commander, I'd like to see you try."

"Careful what you wish for," I said with a smirk, crossing my arms.

"Alright, enough," Anakin's voice cut through the noise, commanding as always. "Gather up."

We formed a loose circle as Anakin laid out the plan. "The Separatists are ramping up production in this region. While we handle their main staging ground, Rex and Stella will scout an outpost to the south. Small crew, mostly automated defenses. Get in, retrieve the data, get out. Simple enough."

I glanced at Rex, who gave a single, curt nod. His calm confidence was steadying.

"And us?" Jesse asked.

"You're with me," Anakin replied. "We'll draw the heat while they work. This has to go off cleanly, so no heroics." His gaze shifted to me, the corner of his mouth twitching. "That goes for everyone."

"Understood," I said, keeping my tone even.

"Good," Anakin said. He clapped a hand on Rex's shoulder. "You've got this."

Rex straightened slightly, his professionalism cutting through the light banter. "We'll get it done, General."

As Anakin and the others moved out, I adjusted my belt and caught up to Rex. "Looks like it's just you and me, Captain."

"Let's keep it simple," Rex said, his tone matter-of-fact. "No unnecessary risks."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I said, though the flicker of a grin betrayed me.

The mission was going smoothly. Too smoothly.

The Separatist outpost was oddly quiet. Rex and I moved in sync, weaving through narrow corridors. The occasional click of distant droid footsteps echoed faintly, but the silence felt unnatural, like the calm before a storm.

"This place is too quiet," I muttered, keeping my voice low as we approached the central terminal.

Rex nodded, his gaze scanning every corner. "Stay sharp. The droids don't usually leave things this exposed."

We reached the terminal, its faint blue light casting an otherworldly glow across the metallic walls. I plugged in the datapad, letting Tech's encryption cracker do its job. The seconds stretched painfully as the device worked to extract the intel we needed.

"Five minutes," I whispered, my eyes flicking between the datapad and the dark hallway we'd come from.

Rex nodded, positioning himself to cover our exit. "I'll keep watch. Stay focused."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Yes, sir," I said dryly.

The datapad beeped softly, progress inching along as my unease grew. The tension in the Force hummed faintly, a low thrum of warning that I couldn't shake. My fingers tightened on the hilt of my lightsaber, my senses straining for any sign of movement.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Not yet," Rex replied, his voice clipped. "But I don't like this. Feels like a setup."

I couldn't argue with that. Every instinct screamed that we were walking into a trap, but we couldn't leave without the data. Another soft beep from the datapad drew my attention back to the screen. Two minutes left.

Then, a faint clattering sound echoed down the corridor.

Rex raised a hand, signaling me to stay quiet. He moved like a shadow, his steps silent as he took position near the doorway. I watched him, my heart pounding, as the sound grew louder. The unmistakable click of droid feet sent a chill down my spine.

"They're coming," I murmured, gripping my lightsaber.

"Stay with the terminal," Rex ordered. "We're almost done here."

The tension in his voice mirrored the unease in the pit of my stomach. I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. Another beep from the datapad. One minute left.

Blaster fire erupted down the corridor.

Rex moved with precision, returning fire and cutting down the first wave of B1 droids. The sound of bolts ricocheting off the walls filled the air, and I gritted my teeth, willing the datapad to work faster. My fingers itched to join the fight, but I couldn't abandon the terminal.

"Thirty seconds!" I called, my voice strained as more droids flooded the hallway.

"I've got this," Rex shouted back, his blaster never wavering. "Stay on task!"

The datapad let out a triumphant chirp, signaling the download was complete. I yanked it free, slipping it into my belt as I ignited my lightsaber. The brilliant blue glow lit up the narrow space as I joined Rex, deflecting bolts and clearing the way.

"Let's move!" Rex barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

We pressed forward, the droids falling under our combined efforts. The Force pulsed with urgency, urging me to keep moving, to stay sharp. We were almost clear of the outpost when the hum of warning grew louder, more insistent.

"Rex—" I started, but it was too late.

The explosion came.

A deafening roar filled the air as the blast ripped through the corridor, throwing me off my feet. The world spun in a blur of light and sound, my body slamming into the ground with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs. Dust and debris rained down like jagged shards, and a sharp, searing pain lanced through my side.

For a moment, everything was muffled—voices, the sound of blaster fire, even the thrum of the Force. My vision swam, the edges blurring as I tried to orient myself. Somewhere nearby, a familiar voice cut through the haze.

"Stella!"

I blinked, forcing my gaze to focus. Rex appeared over me, his expression hidden behind his helmet but his tone firm, edged with a concern I rarely heard. "Can you move?"

"Yeah..." The word came out weak, and I winced as I tried to push myself up.

"Don't," Rex said sharply, kneeling beside me. His hands were steady as he pressed against my shoulder, keeping me in place. "Stay down."

The weight of his tone made me stop. "It's just a scratch," I said, forcing a shaky grin. "I've had worse."

Rex didn't respond right away, his helmet tilting as if assessing the situation. Then he pulled it off, setting it aside. The hard lines of his face were drawn tight, his jaw clenched as his sharp eyes scanned me. "That's not just a scratch."

I followed his gaze to my side, where my armor had been cracked, the edges blackened from the explosion. Underneath, I could feel the painful throb of bruised—if not broken—ribs.

"It's fine," I tried again, though the words lacked conviction.

Blaster fire erupted around us, droids closing in on our position. Rex's head snapped up, his body instinctively shifting to shield me. "It's not fine," he said sharply, his blaster already firing at the advancing wave of B1 droids. "We need to move."

"Then let's go," I said, forcing myself to sit up despite the stabbing pain in my side. The effort sent a jolt of agony through me, but I gritted my teeth, determined not to slow him down.

"Stay down," Rex barked, his voice cutting through the chaos as he fired another precise shot, dropping a droid. His hand pressed against my shoulder, firm but not harsh. "I'm not dragging you out of here if you can't stand on your own."

Another burst of blaster fire pinged against the debris near us, sending sparks flying. "Cover me," Rex ordered, his voice clipped. Without waiting for an answer, he crouched beside me and grabbed a medpack from his belt. His movements were quick, efficient—every second counted.

"I can—"

"No, you can't," Rex cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. He worked swiftly, his hands steady as he applied a bacta patch to my side. "This isn't the time for bravado."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I muttered, wincing as his fingers brushed against the tender area.

"You'll take it as an order," he shot back, glancing up to check the advancing droids. Another volley of blaster fire forced him to duck, his helmet tilting just enough for me to catch the flash of frustration in his eyes.

"You don't have to—"

"I do," he interrupted, already securing the bandage. "You're no good to us if you can't stand, and I'm not leaving you behind."

The weight of his words pressed against me, heavier than the pain in my ribs. "I wasn't planning on it," I said lightly, trying to ease the tension. "Earth didn't have bacta, remember? I'm tougher than I look."

"Doesn't mean you should be reckless now," Rex replied, his tone quieter but no less firm. His gaze flicked to the oncoming droids, his jaw tightening. "Time's up."

He grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet with a steadiness that grounded me even as the pain flared sharp and unforgiving. My knees nearly buckled, but Rex's grip didn't falter. "Can you walk?" he asked, his eyes locked on mine.

"Guess we'll find out." I took a shaky step, then another. Each movement sent jolts of pain through my ribs, but I forced myself to keep going.

"Stay close," Rex said, his blaster raised as he took the lead. "And don't stop for anything."

"Right behind you, Captain," I managed, falling into step beside him.

The sound of blaster fire and clanking droid feet filled the air, punctuated by the crunch of debris under our boots. My ribs ached with every step, but I bit down on the groan that threatened to escape, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of Rex's movements. He glanced at me more than once, his gaze lingering just long enough to make me feel seen but not enough to spark an argument.

We rounded a corner, and a fresh wave of droids appeared, their blasters already firing. Rex shoved me behind a broken support column, taking cover beside me as bolts zipped past, too close for comfort. "We'll never make it to the extraction point at this rate," he muttered, reloading his blaster.

"What's the plan?" I asked, gripping my lightsaber tightly, ready to jump in despite the pain.

"You create a distraction; I'll cover you," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos. He met my gaze, his expression as calm and unshakable as ever. "Just don't overdo it."

I smirked, igniting my saber. "When do I ever overdo it?"

"You overdo it too often for my liking," he muttered under his breath.

The droids hesitated as I stepped into the open, their targeting systems trying to recalibrate. It was the opening we needed. Rex's shots rang out, cutting down droids with brutal efficiency as I pushed forward, my saber carving through the stragglers.

"We need to move, now!" Rex's voice rang out, his tone sharp and commanding.

We didn't stop, the path to the rendezvous point finally clearing. The sound of blaster fire faded into the distance as we broke free from the outpost, the adrenaline coursing through me enough to dull the worst of the pain.

When we finally reached the others, Rex slowed his pace, his hand brushing against my arm to steady me. "You alright?" he asked, his tone quieter now.

"I'm good," I said, though my voice wavered slightly.

He didn't move right away, his gaze searching mine. "You push yourself too hard," he said quietly.

"Pot, meet kettle," I shot back, earning a faint smirk from him.

"What does that even mean?" he asked, confusion tinting his voice.

I shook my head, biting back a laugh that I knew would hurt. "It's... a thing from Earth. Don't worry about it."

"Come on," he said, his voice all business again. "We need to regroup."

The moment of levity lingered as we rejoined the others, the sound of boots crunching against the rocky ground filling the silence between us. For all the chaos, for all the pain, there was something steadying about Rex's presence—a calm in the storm that made the weight of the mission just a little easier to bear.

"Right behind you, Captain," I said, falling into step beside him, the moment of levity lingering as we made our way back to the others.

My ribs ached with every step, but I forced myself to keep pace, biting down on the groan that threatened to escape.

When we reached the others, Anakin was at the center of the activity, gesturing toward a map on a holo-display. Jesse and Fives were standing nearby, their expressions grim but focused.

As soon as Rex and I stepped into view, Anakin's gaze shifted to us, and his brow furrowed. "What happened?"

"Caught some debris from an explosion," Rex said before I could downplay it. "She needs to see Kix."

"I'm fine," I protested, though the words lacked conviction.

Anakin's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't argue. Instead, he gave a sharp nod. "Kix. Now."

Rex didn't wait for me to protest further. He gestured for me to follow him toward the medical area, where Kix was crouched over a clone with a minor leg injury. The medic looked up as we approached, his sharp eyes immediately zeroing in on me.

"What'd you do this time?" he asked, standing and gesturing for me to sit on the nearby crate he'd turned into a makeshift exam station.

"It's nothing," I said, easing myself down and regretting it immediately when the motion sent a sharp pang through my ribs. "Just a bruise."

Kix raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Let me be the judge of that." He grabbed a scanner from his kit and started running it along my side, his movements efficient and precise. "Any trouble breathing?"

"No," I said, trying to ignore Rex's presence just a few steps away, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on me like a hawk. "Just some pain when I move."

Kix finished his scan and stepped back, his expression softening slightly. "You got lucky. No fractures, just some bruising. A couple of days with bacta patches, and you'll be good as new."

"See? Nothing to worry about," I said, casting a glance at Rex.

Kix smirked as he began applying a bacta patch. "You might want to let someone else worry for you once in a while, Commander."

"Already handled," Rex said, his tone clipped but steady.

I shot him a look, but Kix was already packing up his kit. "You're cleared to fight," he said, stepping back, "but take it easy. Your ribs will remind you if you don't."

"Thanks, Kix," I said, standing carefully.

As we turned to leave, Rex fell into step beside me. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I gave him a sidelong glance, my lips twitching into a faint smile. "Didn't realize you were so invested in my health, Captain."

"Someone's got to make sure you don't get yourself killed." His expression didn't change, but there was a faint warmth in his tone when he replied, and I found myself wondering if there was more to Rex than the stoic soldier I thought I knew.

The camp was alive with the hum of post-mission activity. Clones moved to and fro, checking equipment, tending to injuries, and catching brief moments of rest. Since Kix cleared me, I figured I'd earned a quiet moment myself. I thought I'd managed to slip away unnoticed, aiming for a spot near the edge of camp to catch my breath.

But Rex, it seemed, was always watching.

"Commander."

His voice cut through the quiet before I could settle fully. I turned to find him standing a few steps away, arms crossed. The weight of his gaze was unmistakable, even through the visor.

"I'm fine," I said quickly, raising a hand as if to stave off whatever concern he was about to voice.

Rex didn't budge. "That's not what Kix said."

I groaned, leaning back against the rock behind me. "I'm fine enough. Besides, I just need a minute."

"A minute isn't going to fix bruised ribs," he countered, stepping closer. "There's a supply tent nearby. You'll rest there."

I raised an eyebrow, a small, defiant smile creeping onto my lips. "You're ordering me to rest now, Captain?"

"If that's what it takes," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And if I remember correctly, you're supposed to be following orders now."

That earned him a laugh—or the closest thing to one I could manage without doubling over in pain. I winced, clutching my side, and his hand was on my arm in an instant, steadying me.

"See?" he said, his voice softening just slightly. "You're not fine."

His touch was firm but careful, his hand lingering just long enough to make me notice. Before I could argue further, he nodded toward the tent. "Come on."

Sighing, I relented, letting him guide me across the camp. His presence was grounding, his pace measured just enough that I didn't have to push myself to keep up.

When we reached the tent, Rex stepped aside, holding the flap open for me. Inside, the space was sparse but quiet. Exactly what I needed.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to one of the cots.

I rolled my eyes but obeyed, lowering myself carefully onto the edge. The tension in my ribs eased slightly, and I let out a slow breath.

Rex remained standing, his helmet now set on the table nearby. He crossed his arms, watching me with that same unreadable expression he always wore.

"You don't have to babysit me, you know," I said after a moment, the corners of my mouth twitching into a faint grin.

His lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "I know."

I tilted my head, studying him. "So why the sudden concern?"

He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the floor for just a second before meeting mine again. "Because you push yourself too hard," he said quietly. "And I've seen what happens when people don't know when to stop."

His words hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken. I thought about pressing, but something in his tone made me pause.

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," I said instead, keeping my voice soft.

Rex didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, more reflective. "As a leader, you get used to worrying about your men. It's part of the job." He paused, his gaze steady. "But worrying about a Jedi... that's new."

The admission caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn't know how to respond. My usual instinct was to deflect, to throw out a joke and lighten the mood. But this time, I couldn't quite bring myself to.

"I'm not just any Jedi," I said softly, meeting his gaze.

"No," he said, his tone almost too quiet to hear. "You're not."

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy with something neither of us was ready to name.

Finally, Rex straightened, his professional demeanor sliding back into place like a well-worn shield. "Get some rest, Commander. That's an order."

I smiled faintly, the tension in my chest easing as I leaned back against the cot. "Yes, sir."

As he turned to leave, I found myself watching him, the echo of his words still lingering in my mind.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I woke to the soft rustle of fabric and the low murmur of voices just outside the supply tent. My ribs ached, a dull, persistent throb that made it impossible to shift comfortably on the cot. I groaned quietly, squinting against the early light filtering through the canvas.

The tent flap opened, and Kix stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning me with practiced efficiency. Rex stood beside him, his arms crossed as usual, watching like a silent sentinel.

"Morning, Commander," Kix said briskly, crouching down beside me. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I got run over by an AT-TE," I muttered, trying to sit up. The motion made me wince, and Kix immediately placed a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

"We're done here. The General's called for regrouping. We're heading back to the ship." Rex said.

I nodded, exhaling slowly as Kix began checking my ribs. His touch was careful but firm, and I couldn't help but let out a quiet hiss when he pressed on a particularly tender spot.

"That bad?" Kix asked, glancing up at me.

"Worse than yesterday," I admitted. "It's the adrenaline—or the lack of it, I guess. Everything feels... sharper."

Kix smirked faintly, reaching into his kit for another bacta patch. "That's normal. You're lucky it's just bruising. Give it a couple of days, and you'll feel like yourself again."

"Lucky me," I said dryly.

"Alright, up you go," Kix said, standing and offering me a hand.

I hesitated for half a second, my gaze flicking toward Rex. He stepped forward without a word, his steady presence enough to coax me into action. Between the two of them, I managed to get to my feet, though the ache in my side made every movement feel like a small battle.

We stepped out of the tent into the crisp morning air, the camp bustling as the clones packed up supplies and prepped for departure. I caught sight of Jesse, Echo, and Fives nearby, their conversation pausing the moment they noticed us.

It was Fives who spoke first, his tone laced with mock incredulity. "Captain, you never take care of us like that when we're injured."

Jesse grinned, nudging Echo. "Yeah, what gives, Rex? I don't remember you holding my hand last time I got a scratch."

"You didn't deserve it," Rex said dryly, his tone as even as ever, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Fives wasn't satisfied with the lack of reaction. He clutched his side dramatically, stumbling forward. "Oh no, I think I've got an injury! Captain, help me—"

Rex stared at him, unimpressed. "You're about to have an injury if you don't get moving."

That earned a laugh from Jesse and Echo, who gave Fives a shove toward the transport. "Come on, drama queen," Echo said. "The Captain's got better things to do."

Fives shot me a wink as he fell into step with the others, still clutching his imaginary wound.

I couldn't help but laugh—then winced immediately as my ribs protested. Rex turned toward me, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his tone soft enough that the others wouldn't hear.

"Fine," I said quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. "Just... remind me not to laugh until this is healed."

His gaze lingered for a moment longer, then he nodded. "Let's get you to the ship."

As we walked, the playful banter from the clones faded into the background. I stole a glance at Rex, his expression calm but unreadable as ever, and couldn't stop myself from wondering: how much of his concern was duty and how much was something more?

The ship hummed quietly as we broke through the atmosphere, heading back to Coruscant. I leaned against the wall of the hangar, watching as the clones efficiently stowed the last of the gear. Rex, as always, was the picture of precision, barking orders that were carried out without hesitation.

Anakin stood off to the side, arms crossed and gaze distant. The council had summoned him for a debrief as soon as we returned, no doubt another tedious meeting where politics took precedence over tactics. I didn't envy him.

When the supplies were secured, Rex approached me, his helmet tucked under his arm. "You should get some rest," he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"I'm okay," I replied, though the way I clutched my side betrayed me.

"Right." Rex raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

I sighed, knowing I wasn't going to win this one. "Alright, alright. I'm going."

The cot in my quarters wasn't much more comfortable than the one in the supply tent, but at least the quiet was soothing. I stretched out carefully, letting the tension in my body ease as I stared at the metal ceiling.

I must have drifted off for a while because the soft hiss of the door sliding open startled me. I sat up too quickly, wincing as pain shot through my ribs.

"Relax, Commander," Jesse said, holding up a tray with two ration packs balanced precariously on top of it. "It's just us."

Fives appeared behind him, grinning as he leaned casually against the doorframe. "You didn't think we'd let you eat alone, did you?"

"You're not supposed to be here," I said, eyeing them both warily. "Rex'll have your heads if he finds out."

"Only if he finds out," Fives countered, slipping inside with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And we're very good at not getting caught."

I sighed, already knowing it was useless to argue. "Fine. But if Rex comes looking for you, you're both on your own."

"Deal," Jesse said, setting the tray down on the small table beside my cot. He pulled up a crate to sit on while Fives plopped down cross-legged on the floor, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Alright," I said, leaning back against the wall and crossing my arms carefully to avoid pulling at my ribs. "You're here. Now behave."

Fives smirked. "Define behave."

I pointed a finger at him, narrowing my eyes. "No jokes, no dramatics, and no making me laugh. It hurts."

"See? She's already laughing," Jesse said, grinning as he opened his ration pack. "You're terrible at this, Commander."

I groaned. "I'm serious. If I laugh, I'll blame both of you."

"Noted," Fives said with a mock salute, though the mischievous twinkle in his eye remained.

The conversation flowed easily as we ate, the two of them regaling me with stories from past missions, complete with exaggerated details and plenty of good-natured ribbing. Despite my earlier warning, I couldn't help but laugh, though I quickly regretted it each time, clutching my side as the pain flared. Fives and Jesse didn't seem fazed by my winces, continuing their stream of jokes and stories, fully committed to their mission of cheering me up.

The door hissed open abruptly, cutting through the conversation. All three of us froze as Rex stepped into the room, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto the scene before him. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a vibroblade.

"What are you two doing here?" Rex asked, his voice calm but carrying that unmistakable edge of authority. His expression—somewhere between disbelief and mild exasperation—was clear.

Fives, ever the brave one, pointed at Rex with mock indignation. "What are you doing here?"

Rex blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "I—" He faltered, his gaze flicking to me for a split second before returning to the two troopers.

I couldn't help it. The scene was so absurd, I bit back a laugh that came out as a muffled snort.

Fives and Jesse exchanged a glance, their grins growing wider.

"Well?" Fives pressed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall as if Rex were the one on trial. "You still haven't answered the question, Captain. What brings you here?"

Rex's composure cracked for the briefest moment—just a flicker of something that might have been flustered irritation—before he straightened, his usual no-nonsense demeanor snapping back into place like a shield.

"I'm here to check on the Commander," he said evenly, his tone daring anyone to challenge him.

"Funny," Jesse said, tilting his head. "That's exactly what we're doing."

Rex gave them both a pointed look, the kind that could silence an entire room of troopers. "You're supposed to be prepping for departure."

Fives shrugged, clearly unfazed. "We prepped. We're efficient like that."

"And we thought the Commander could use the company," Jesse added, gesturing toward me with a grin.

I groaned again, this time more out of exasperation than pain. "Alright, you two, that's enough. Don't drag me into this."

Rex's gaze shifted to me, softening slightly. "And how's your injury?"

"Worse with all the laughing," I admitted, shooting a glare at Fives and Jesse. "But otherwise fine."

"Good," Rex said, his tone firm again as he turned back to the other two. "Now out. Both of you."

"Alright, alright, we're going," Fives said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. But as he passed Rex, he couldn't resist adding, "You're awfully protective, Captain. If I didn't know better, I'd say you care."

Jesse snickered, and I thought I saw the faintest hint of a blush creep into Rex's face before he turned sharply toward the door.

"Out," Rex repeated, his voice like a command blaster bolt.

As the door slid shut behind them, I finally let out a soft laugh, wincing immediately afterward.

"Don't," Rex said, his tone softer now. "You need rest."

I smirked, unable to resist teasing him. "You keep saying that."

"That's because you keep ignoring it," he replied, his tone firm, though there was a faint hint of exasperation.

I let out a dramatic sigh, tilting my head back and placing a hand over my chest. "But Captain," I said, my voice dripping with exaggerated woe, "I'm lonely."

Rex blinked, his brows drawing together in clear confusion. "Lonely?"

"Yes," I continued, letting my inner drama queen take the reins. "Alone in this cold, metallic ship with no one to comfort me, no one to understand my pain..." I paused, leaning forward slightly to meet his gaze. "It's tragic, really."

Rex's lips parted as though he was going to respond, but no words came out. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to figure out whether I was serious or simply losing my mind. "You're joking," he said finally, though his tone sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Maybe," I replied with a grin, tilting my head. "Or maybe I'm just revealing the depth of my fragile soul."

He stared at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought I'd pushed him too far. But then, with a soft sigh, he muttered under his breath, "You've definitely been spending too much time around Fives."

That did it. I burst into laughter, the motion sending a sharp pain through my side. I clutched my ribs, groaning through my laughter. "Ow... okay, okay. I concede. You're right."

Rex stepped forward, his hand hovering as though he was debating whether to steady me. "You really shouldn't be laughing," he said, his tone shifting to something softer, almost chastising.

"Probably not," I admitted, straightening with a wince. "But admit it—I got you for a second."

A flicker of something passed over his face—annoyance, amusement, or maybe both. He shook his head, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Get some rest, Commander. For real this time."

"Yes, sir," I replied, offering a mock salute.

He started to turn, but I stopped him.

"Captain."

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Yes, Commander?"

I straightened as much as my ribs would allow, leveling him with the best serious look I could muster. "Promise me you won't give Fives and Jesse a hard time for sneaking in here."

Rex raised an eyebrow, his usual no-nonsense expression settling back into place. "They shouldn't have been here. You know that."

"I do," I said quickly, holding up a hand. "But they meant well. They were just trying to keep me company. And, honestly..." I hesitated, then shrugged, wincing slightly at the motion. "I didn't mind."

His gaze softened ever so slightly, though his jaw remained tight. "They're still troopers under my command."

"And I'm still asking you not to," I pressed, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the pain. "Please. For me?"

For a moment, he just stood there, his expression unreadable. Then, with a small sigh, he nodded. "Fine. But don't let them make a habit of it."

"Deal," I said, leaning back against the wall with a satisfied smile.

Rex lingered for a second longer, as if he wanted to say something else, but instead he gave a small nod and turned to leave.

As the door hissed shut behind him, I let out a slow breath, a faint warmth spreading through my chest. Rex might be the epitome of discipline, but every now and then, he let that shield of his slip—just enough to remind me that beneath it all, he cared.

_____________________________________________________________

You can find my masterlist here x

[extra-n1]

Imagine mha ended with Kacchan and Izuku taking a walk together and casually passing all the places we saw them together at when they were kids until they reach the park. "Look Kacchan! That's the forest where we used to play heroes!" He said with a smile, although it was tinted with nostalgia and something a bit bitter. "Wanna go over?" The blond asks and the next second their already there. They walk for a bit in silence until they reach a specific point. A fallen tree that crosses a very small river. With time, its flow has decreased but it's still running. Katsuki invites Izuku to sit on the trunk as they watch the stream of water flow under their feet.

5 minutes later, none of them has said anything, it's comfortable silence tho. The sunrays get stronger and Izuku comments on it. With an idea, Katsuki jumps off the trunk directly into the river and lays there. "Kacchan, what are you doing?" The freckled boy asks confused "Just refreshing myself" Izuku giggles and lays next to the blond. The stream not big enough to cover them so their faces are kept over the water as they stare at a few small clouds pass the clear sky. As the minutes pass, Katsuki can sense the air becoming tense, and then it comes.

"Kacchan, can I say something?" Izuku asks unsure. He knows he doesn't need permission to speak to Katsuki but- "What I'm gonna say may- no, will absolutely sound selfish, but I can't help it. I-I've loved whatever we had since we entered UA, specially those last months, that's why I can't help but feeling like I'm being unfair to you. You've been so sincere lately, so caring, and all I do is deny and ignore things. I really didn't want to say because it makes me feel like a scumbag but I feel like I may drown every second I'm with you and I don't say it."

"Hey-" Katsuki tried to interfere at the 'scumbag' thing but was interrupted by a hand clutching the side of his shirt. Then Izuku was half hugging him on the water and he was paralyzed.

"I want you to be a hero. I want to see you become great even if I can't. It's a path I wanted to walk besides you but, I've already had time to reflect and I'm okay with cheering you on from the sidelines. It's just-" Izuku's sobs felts like needles on Katsuki's weak heart, his own tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. "It's just that I don't want you to forget about me, about this, about what we had in UA. You're gonna keep growing and progressing and I'm just gonna stay here. It'll be better for you to move on, but I don't want you to leave" The last sentence was merely a whisper. Izuku could barely talk through the sobs "I know it's a selfish wish-"

Izuku stopped talking when he felt Katsuki's hand over his, removing it from his shirt. His heart was shaking and shattering. 'Oh, no. This is when Kacchan gets up to leave and never speaks to me again. I shouldn't have done it. Even if he's been caring about me for some time what are the chances he actually loves-'

"Izuku" The boy wakes up from his mental ramble and finds Katsuki's gentle eyes, then he smirks, but there's no malice behind it "Since you're so selfish asking me not to leave, it's only fair I make a wish too" Izuku is beyond confused, Kacchan is not mad? They're both sitting up, the gentle breeze making their soaked backs cold. Either of them noticed, either of them cared. Izuku did take notice tho that the hand previously removed from Katsuki's clothing was now clasped between the blond's own hands. Pink rose up to freckled cheeks and the boy looked away as Katsuki caressed his fingers, a one-in-a-million soft smile on his face as he did so.

"Izuku" He repeated. The deep tone of his voice making said boy's cheeks burn, but he was unable to look away now "Y-yeah?" They made eye contact "It may make no sense to you, but I want you to keep being selfish over me for the rest of our lives" The blond intertwined their fingers and Izuku's heart trembled. "I don't want you to cheer from 'the sidelines'. We've walked the path here next to eachother and that's where I want- I need you to be. As a hero parter... or just a partner..."

They fell into silence. Only the steady moves of the water and the sounds of birds to remind them they're still on Earth. Katsuki was the one to advert his eyes this time, embarrassed, looking down onto the calm waters. Izuku was unable to look away, not from that vulnerable face, the almost unnoticeable blush, the words he just said still ringing in his ears. 10 seconds later, Izuku's brain came to a realization.

"Ka-Kacchan, are you suggesting that...?" The fiery blond broke into a mess of excuses "I mean! Only if you want to! I'm also fine with staying friends! Well, no... but I'll deal with it! I wouldn't dump you! So, make sure you're totally on with this before you say anything because I absolutely am!" "Kacchan" Izuku's voice came out so weak and soft. Katsuki looked everywhere else before finally setting aside his cowardy and meeting Izuku's eyes again. "You want to...date me?" The shorter male asked, still incredulous "Yeah" Katsuki looked down at their still linked hands "I mean, yes." And then up again and firmly said "Yes" Izuku, who was crying again, rewarded him with a sincere smile, for the first time in a long time, not a sad one, a real one filled with joy and relief. Katsuki only got to see it for a few seconds before the other launched himself at him and trapped him in a bear hug. He did his best to reciprocate with just one arm.

"Thank you. Thank you, Kacchan"

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 17/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

I live!

I can finally post this chapter 😭😭😭

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Before anyone could react, Lucifer flashes his eyes with a chilling intensity. Time itself stopped, as if the universe held its breath.

The now sinner wasn't even the least bit surprised; in fact, he didn't even tried to hide his annoyance.

Adam: Ugh. I hate it when you do that. I'm surprised Sera never questioned why our meetings were so short-

The sudden impact to Adam's chest silenced him mid-sentence. One moment he was speaking, the next he was on his back with the King of Hell straddling him. He loves seeing Lucifer furious, but only when he knows the other can't kill him as long as he's an angel of Heaven.

Can't not won't because he's pretty sure Lucifer will kill him if given the chance.

He doesn't know if he should be grateful of the fact that Lucifer didn't kill him in the last extermination.

Lucifer: How are you here?

Lucifer spoke with fire, lightly singeing Adam's face as he asked, no, demanded an answer.

Adam: U-Fuck! I don't know man! Get off du- Hey! Stop that! Hands off the merchandise!

Adam yelled as Lucifer ripped open his clothes, revealing a white scar right in the middle of the first man's chest.

Lucifer: Talk.

The other gulped. Adam had never been afraid of Lucifer not back then and especially not now. But he does value his life, so.

Adam: Man, I told you. I. Don't. Know. One minute I was dyin' on your gross floor and then next poof I woke up on the edge of some fucking cliff looking like one of you disgusting freaks. You have no idea how much of a bitch it was to walk from there to this stupid city. I kept dying from random shit and then I spawn back to that cliff!

Lucifer: What cliff?

Adam: Dude, do I look like a cliff expert? Just some random one with a weird lookin' mountain over-

Lucifer: Which direction!

Adam: -South! God, chill.

The Sin of Pride doesn't need a map to know what Adam is now talking about. He may be a recluse but he knows Hell like the back of his hand.

Lucifer: Mount Sinai…

Adam: Uh what?

Lucifer: Mount Sinai, principal site of divine revelation.

Adam: Huh? Isn't that where that Moses dude got the 10 rules-

Lucifer: Commandments.

Adam: -from your daddy?

Lucifer: First of all, don't call The Almighty "daddy". Second, yes. Most significant landscapes that form on Earth reflect here. Even the one where Satan tested Prince of Heaven.

Adam purposely yawns obnoxiously.

Adam: Boringggg. What does that mountain got to do with me?

Lucifer: Maybe it's telling you that you're now a disgusting freak like us cause you're too stupid to realize.

Adam: Fuck you.

Lucifer: No thanks.

To that, the turned sinner quirked an eyebrow and gave a little smirk.

Adam: Oh really? Cause you're not getting off me any time soon. Unless… You want the whole Eden package, Luci?

Lucifer's face spoke volumes, each expression a testament to his thoughts on the matter at hand. Adam, catching the subtle disdain in Lucifer's gaze, felt a twinge of offense directed at his pride. After all they'd been through??! It's like the guy doesn't even know him.

Adam: Rude ass bitch. Fuckin' get off then before one of us does a different kind of getting off.

The King jumped back as if he'd been scorched, hissing his disdain for the man before him.

Adam: You act like I wanted to come here. Down here is just... ugh. I want to go back up there, thank you very much. This place looks even tackier than last time, by the way. I even went to the damn embassy.

Lucifer chose to ignore the jab about the hotel.

Lucifer: Let me guess, you forgot the ban on any sinner soul to enter?

Adam: Who even thought of that?!

Lucifer: You did, dumbass.

Adam: Yeah- well- I still say it's your fault! Now go there and contact Sera for me. How are you still here anyway? Shouldn't Heaven be punishing you for killing their totally fuckable first man?

Lucifer: Fatherdamnit, why did your ego not die with your divinity? And to answer your question, Heaven hasn't contacted us ever since the battle.

Adam: What?! Why??? I'm THE fucking first man! Maybe they're preparing for a war to kill all you fuckers.

Lucifer: They're preparing for a war alright.

Lucifer didn't mean to say that but thankfully Adam's habit of selective hearing whenever he speaks hasn't changed.

Adam: What was that?

Lucifer: I said maybe you're just that insignificant to them.

Adam: Just like you? Also, why the fuck do you look like that?

The King tilts his head to the side, a calculated gesture meant to convey innocence.

Lucifer: Like what?

Adam: Like that!

Lucifer: What do you mean? I've always looked like this.

Adam: Uhhh no. I've known you for literally all my life and after. I think I would've made fun of you more if you looked like an emo clown since the beginning.

Lucifer: How would you know what an emo is?

Adam: Bruh, have you seen my lieutenant?

He had but he doesn't think she's emo. Charlie had an emo phase and that just became his basis on what that word means. An idea struck him, and he pondered sharing some old photos of Charlie to Vaggie...

His contemplation was interrupted by Adam's whistle, pulling him back to the present moment.

Adam: Helloooooooo. Earth to Lucifer. I'm still here you know and I know that you don't want me here as much as I do.

Adam is right.

Though the first man's presence grated on him, and the fact that he wants nothing more than to send him back to Heaven, he knew it was a futile endeavor.

There is no way they're going to take him back because, for one, whether they like it or not, the guy is a demon now.

He could try Sera but she hasn't contacted him since the last extermination-that-wasn't and Michael did mention "taking care" of her so that's out of the question.

Seeing as there is no other solution, he resigned himself to handling the situation as every other demon had.

Lucifer: Let's make a deal then.

Adam: Psh! A deal with the literal Devil? You think I'm some kind of moron?

Lucifer: .... Maybe.

Adam: Fuck you!

Lucifer: Yeah yeah. You keep saying that. So?

Adam must have deduced that this was Lucifer's way of saying"what other choice do you have?" and just groans in resignation.

Adam: Just lay it on me.

Lucifer: You be my personal assistant.

His reply came as quick as the offer.

Adam: No.

Lucifer: No?

Adam: Yeah fuck that. I'm not gonna be your servant.

Lucifer: I'm fine with leaving you on the streets, you know. But how do you think the demons out there will react once they discover that you're a former angel? The head of the exorcists at that. And trust me, we will let them know.

Adam: Yeah- well- The hotel! I'm pretty sure your dear princess won't turn me away if I say that I'm here for this redemption bullshit.

Lucifer: Oh! That's great then! I'm sure Nifty won't have a problem having another helping knife- I mean, hand around.

Lucifer, for his part, harbored no illusions about allowing the man near his daughter, but he found a certain amusement in Adam's discomfort, especially with Nifty.

The prospect of Adam's paranoia amuses him greatly that he allowed himself a faint chuckle.

Adam's eyes flick towards the gremlin cyclops. HDespite his attempts to rationalize away his fear, he couldn't shake the sensation of impending danger of being killed. Again. He lets out an involuntary shiver.

Weighing the pros and cons, he eventually decides that his life is more important than his pride.

Adam: Fiiiiiiiiiiiineee. I'll be your fuckin' errand boy.

Lucifer: Great! And another thing. Keep the innuendos to a zero. Especially around my daughter.

Adam: Come on. Don't tell me you don't love it!

Lucifer: I really don't.

Adam: Anyone would be lucky to have a taste of this majestic dick, yaknow.

Lucifer: Yeahhhhhh, still no.

Adam: I heard you can change into a girl.

A snap.

Adam: So, just let me fuck you once and I promise you'll never want another dick agai-

As the static noise filled the room, Adam found himself the target of collective anger and simmering hostility from the others. His ill-considered words had ignited a storm of rage, each member of the gathering consumed by thoughts of murder.

Adam was the only one physically affected, his ears covered in a futile attempt to shield himself from the overwhelming static.

Alastor: I suggest you watch what you say next, first man.

Sensing the danger he's in, Adam stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at Lucifer. Well, he tried to but he got pinned back to the ground by sets of multiple hands.

Adam: You set me up!

Lucifer: Dunno what you're talkin' about, buddy.

Charlie: Dad, what's going on? What do we do with Adam?

Lucifer: Don't worry about him, sweetie. He'll be staying at the palace doing my paperwork like a good assistant-

Adam: -Ugh! I hate doing paperwork!

Lucifer: -until we can figure out why he's here.

Charlie: I don't know, dad...

Lucifer: Trust me. You don't want him here.

The silent exchange between father and daughter carried a weight of unspoken understanding. After a while, Charlie gave her dad a reluctant but genuine expression of trust. Her acknowledgment broke the tension, softening the atmosphere between them.

Charlie: Okay. I trust you.

However, their moment was interrupted by the clearing of a throat, drawing their attention back to the chaotic scene unfolding before them. Adam is now suspended upside down by the irate Sins and Alastor.

Adam: So uh, can you tell your simps to put me down now?

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So! I'm back.

I didn't really plan for Adam to be part of the hotel right now. We'll still get to see him but he'll just be at the palace.

With Lute and Heaven not knowing that Adam isn't dead but just fallen and Hell not knowing that Sir Pentious has been redeemed.... who knows what will happen?

Hope this chapter was worth the wait ;;

And yes that is a Jesus mention.