#the refusal of beeing what others have made of us

[0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-00000]

every once i while i mention how i feel at home & twistor theoretically hugged & completely safe/well understood when i'm with my mutuals. today i'm welcoming baudelaire to our little group.

i'm asking myself if the ppl i call mutuals even though they died long ago, were writing (and, ohh, they were, jeezus, they were. iykyk.) about such a pathological psycho-emotional sociopathic behavior in great detail, describing every algorithm, using the common notation, sculpting peculiarly a morphology which is obviously recognizable (well, to me.)(and..who?) (ﾉﾟ⊿ﾟ)ﾉ (ʃᵕДᵕʅ) (ﾉ∧￩ ι) - does it mean they knew of the generalizability / the significance already? because that implies they had archieved a wholesome and robust knowledge of their own wreckage. which is supercool and can turn out very well as in hermann hesse's case.. but as most of em left the building with the head-in-the-oven-bus or the blow-my-head-off-plane(departure at quantum gate) or my fav nightmare*: completed their life→death transistion but nobody noticed as they kept on walkin' earth like christmas turkeys without filling (iff those turkeys usually came as zombies) and the funeral took place several decades later when existence(level n/a) got rid of the turkey's leftovers via the neighbor's dog whatsoever - i conclude: 1. from my frame of reference the knowledge of largest order of magnitude isn't actually of largest order of magnitude (c'mon it's obvious, there's not a lot missing, it just has to add up! -said everyone trying to prove the collatz conjecture, too). 2. no pain no gain but the pain load is exhaused, therefore continue at *⁽ᶠᵃᵛ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉ⁾ possibly correlating the fact that 3. must be ignored on all instances, as 3.'s statement is not very scientific as it implies the nonexistence of free will which is provenly false. 3. it's a pathological function. and weierstrass will be weierstrass. inevitably. even if the function knows where it started, that it's nowhere differentiable and that it shows continuity everywhere and even if it knows it is indeed true and it's fine that it exists and that it's actually super cool and wiggly and not at all the devil's work like gauss said.

wow how i hate the involment of emotion/sociology. really good for nothing╰(･◡･╰) destabilizes every integral ╰(°ㅂ°)╯ fine, so i'm doing that by parts again

(°∇°╬) 凸(°^°*)

as someone who exclusively writes non-fiction (code, preferably javascript/python/C++ and currently - because of a strong affection/enthusiasm/serious hyperfixation - it's mostly mathematics - of which i'm now an undergrad student (∩˃⌔˂∩)♡), maybe a little essayesk from time to time or even wandering the paths of leibnitzian metaphysics (C:\\vbox\leibnitzian metaphysics) - while always 3+1 dimensionally platonistically pure and way past the 140 character limit. but a good proof wouldn't write itself significantly shorter.. (have you read the one of gödel on formally undecidable propositions of principia mathematica & rel. systems?)(and have you read russell's on 1+1=2 ?). as i tend to translate/generalize mathematics to help me understand external human behavior as well as deconstructing the significance (disproving prev) of the immense emotional impact concerning the integrity of my own ol' machine, it could be summarized as: i write abstracts. still, definite non-fiction. so with absolutely no training in the field of novels and prose, i can only assume (though with a probability=the collatz conjecture beeing true) (like, almost surely ;)) the constructability of my conclusion by interconnecting the abstracts would return true or halt or loop indefinitely, if it would throw an illegal exception - well, definitely it would, but would it sigkill & kernel_panic or would it libunwind*? maybe we feel we must know but well, we might never. as a somewhat openly liberal david hilbert could have said.

and that's just a little excerpt of me, as i'm *walking each frame, looking for a place to stop.

oh and btw: p=np

look, you leave riemann drive here & now that's not far at all, it's actually on your way, you'll bump into it near the exit, right there on the left, maxwell's 2nd / collatz blvd.

[bunnis-monsters]

🎄NSFW 🎄

warning: oviposition, gangbang, fluff+smut

Your first Christmas with the bee hybrids was… certainly an experience.

You’ve only been queen for a year. Your own little ones are barely toddlers learning to walk and fly, but the babies from the previous queen have grown attached and see you as their mama too.

“Mama, what’s Christmas?”

Oh, the dreaded question. The hive had been teaching the little ones human traditions and simple biological facts to make sure they grew up knowing how to properly take care of their queen.

“Oh… it’s a holiday where the family gathers around, exchanged presents, and then we eat a nice dinner.”

One of your own toddles over, teething on one of your fingers as you speak. “Sometimes during the season, people go caroling or look at Christmas lights. There’s a lot of baking as well.”

They all let out a collective “ooo”.

This was the beginning of the end.

The second Halloween was over, the baby bees were buzzing around, begging their mama for some Christmas fun. It wasn’t fair that the humans got to celebrate such cool traditions while they “wasted away” in their cribs.

“Mama, I wanna make cookies!”

“A-and I want to see Santa!”

“Mama, are we elves?”

Overwhelmed by all of their requests and… odd questions, you quickly roped in the adults in your hive to help you make Christmas possible for your baby bees.

Surprisingly, the hardest part was your subjects trying to comprehend why the little ones should receive a gift from an outsider of the hive.

“This Santa creature… is he safe? What does he want in return for gifts of this amount? I’m not sure we have enough honey to satisfy such a beast.”

That’s when you had to break it to the adults of your hive that Santa was in fact not real, and that all of the presents would come from them.

A few of your attendants whined, burying their faces in your neck and tummy, rubbing their fluff against you. “My queen, he’s not real? We won’t get presents?”

“Oh dear…”

It took the entire month of November to simply gather all of the supplies together, and you wondered if it would be possible to give your babies the Christmas they wanted.

First up on the list was Christmas caroling. They refused to do it in the hive, babbling on about spreading Christmas cheer.

So you hid their antennas under hats, bundled them up nice and warm, and escorted them down a relatively safe human street. The bee hybrids guarded the little ones, buzzing threateningly at anyone that got to close as they sang their little songs.

You watched out of the corner of your eyes as one of them fell face first into a snow bank, their little legs wiggling while being pulled out by one of the guards.

It was difficult not to laugh.

After their caroling, they wanted to play in the snow for a while. You let them play until they were running to you and crying, their little noses runny and their hands cold.

“Alright, let’s go home.”

Through December, you helped them do fun crafts and write their letters to Santa. There was a certain magic in the air, everyone was excited for the big night.

And then it came. Christmas Eve was filled with activities, the first being a special breakfast.

The next activity was baking cookies for Santa. Since you had so many little ones, multiple ovens had to be used just to make enough cookies for them to decorate.

Of course they all ate most of them, unable to resist the sugary treats, but you were able to save a plate full for Santa.

They all gathered around the giant tree the bee hybrids brought into the hive, all giggling and decorating it as others snacked on the Christmas cookies. Seeing your cute little fuzz balls so happy made your heart soar.

The last activity before bed was to watch a Christmas movie, and they all wanted to be snuggled up with you while they waited for Santa.

They all wore little matching pajamas, their wings buzzing and antennas twitching as they curled up with their mama.

“Mama… Christmas is the best…” one of your babies cooed as another nursed. They were still so little, you hoped you’d have many more Christmas memories like this in the future.

Carefully, you untangled yourself from the pile of sleeping baby bees and made you way to the adult Christmas party.

When you opened the door, all eyes were on you. Some were drunk from overripe fruit while others were feasting on sweets and playing games while waiting for you to arrive.

And every single one of them was hard.

“My queen~!”

You were approached by your attendants, who all rubbed around you, desperate for your attention after you had been busy with the babies all day. “We missed you… everyone’s been waiting for our Christmas present!”

All of the bee hybrids cooed and hummed, buzzing with excitement. In exchange for them working so hard to give the babies a nice Christmas, you promised to give them a special treat.

Your body.

Instantly you were surrounded, being caressed and sniffed, your clothes easily coming off. Your hive had been working nonstop all month to make you and the babies happy, which meant you hadn’t been mated with much.

And embarrassingly enough, you craved this as much as they did.

You cried out in ecstasy as one of the bees latched onto your clit, sucking softly as your cunt was being fucked by another. Both of your nipples were being attacked, and your mouth was stuffed with a fat cock.

“Is this okay, my queen?”

“Ahh, my queen, you’re so tight…”

It was a night full of many orgasms, your tummy heavy and full of eggs by morning.

Each bee hybrid got their turn inside of your cunt, and admittedly it was arousing to watch them jerk off to the image of you being fucked by the others, some even sucking and fucking each other because they were too impatient.

But they ended up completely satisfied, lapping softly at your cunt, licking up some of the cum and gently pushing eggs back into your pussy.

You were so, so full and kept cumming around the eggs that it was hard to keep them inside… but your attendants swooped in to take care of the aftercare and make sure you would be ready for the morning.

You yawned, resting against a fluffy bee hybrid as your little ones opened their presents in the morning. They were all so happy, giggling and carrying around their toys to show to their mama.

It was a great first Christmas with the bee hybrids, and each one of them was looking forward to next year!

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Right Next To You...

A/n: So I'm back. Not for very long due to lack motivation. I feel like this episode is kinda repetitive with the words. This came to me while listening to the bridge of "Die with a Smile" and i just imagined the scene where you two reunite to be on the bridge. Very edit worthy scenarios. This is kinda a mini fic. School ends this week and lucky me, my birthday is the weekend.

It's said that when a person dies, they have seven minutes left when their brain is still active for one last time, flashing before them memories of when they were their happiest.

In a moment of acceptance came a will to refuse, and Simon felt the numbness after what seemed like an endless burning heat of hell.

It seemed like he was in a haze with the look in his eyes reflecting the burning building around him as he remained unable to move.

~

“Breathe, love. Just breathe with me,” he murmured, kneeling beside the bed, one hand wrapped around yours, the other smoothing damp hair from your face. His voice trembled even as he tried to be steady, calm—for you. But fear and awe danced in his eyes as he watched the woman he loved battle pain for the life they’d created.

The midwife was focused and firm, her voice cutting through the haze. “You’re almost there. One more push, sweetheart. One more.”

You shook your head at first, gasping, your body exhausted, bones trembling. Tears welled in your eyes. “I can’t— I can’t do it.”

The next hour was the most excruciating for you, but it was all worth it after getting to hold your child. On the other hand, your husband was struggling to process that he finally gets to hold his little one.

~

"Adadadada— dadada... mmmm" The baby stimming herself by calling Simon over and over, "Yes, bee?" he responded with a chuckle.

He'd never be tired of her sweet little voice, the little yawns accompanying her babbling. She giggled her little heart out as he rested for the night. There was no other way to sleep comfortably when home with his family.

~

"Daddy, don't leave yet, please? Mommy and I will miss you," His daughter sniffled..

"I wish I didn't have to, princess, but you understand why daddy has to work, right? So I can give you and mommy everything you've ever wanted and needed."

"But daddy.. we need you too.." she cried.

Simon's eyes darted to the fridge and the colorful magnets that displayed the pictures, the drawings.

From the moment she was born, until now.. until the end of time, he knows deep in his heart that she'll need him. They'll need him.

How could he ever have left this behind?

Just for a second, that's all it took for Ghost... well, Simon Riley to realize.

He still has a family, imagining your reaction, what about his daughter? And yet here he was..

Then, nothing...

Waking up to the scent of medication and the ache in his body was a feeling he had become accustomed to—a strange kind of nostalgia he wished he could avoid, but found himself reliving time and time again.

He was used to the medical attention at this point, nurses and doctors checking every hour until it was visiting hour. Price came in.

"You've been out for two weeks, lieutenant. Wife's been calling me none-stop since the day I informed her of your state"

Price understood the importance of stepping aside when Simon demanded to be booked on the earliest flight home. After all, nothing comes between man and his family.

...

Simon didn't care if his feet burned, the sharp pain in his ribs meant nothing but seeing you bolting towards him at that shitty airport squeezed his heart dry.

You held your daughter in your arms, not caring all that much who you bumped into after weeks of waiting for news on your husband. All that went through your head was "What if he died? What then?".

After receiving that call from Price, which he knew made you mad, he didn't call you until the last minute, when your husband's flight was already landing. You just rushed there, not caring if you were in your sweatpants or unbrushed hair, just held by a claw clip.

His world froze as he ran.. the sheer force of the two of you colliding in an embrace was almost enough to set you both off balance. Simon groaned, "Shit.." you apologized to him as you tried to pull you away but his grip just tightened..

"Si.." your voice cracked, "You stupid bastard, can't believe you'd just.. ugh.." you couldn't help yourself, the tears just made their way out into a sob.

Simon felt your hand pounding on his chest, his little girl crying with you, cherub face buried in her own pudgy hands.

This needs to end— family is the only support he has left, and he's causing them pain, constantly worrying them and leaving them to fend for themselves. He can't care for them the way he truly wants if he stays out of reach.

He has a fucking family, he's not have a proper one all his life and he almost died, he almost left them..

He hasn't lived a good life yet.

Maybe now is the time to finally, actually, be happy—the happiness he was deprived of all his life.

@wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @thepalestinianjet @anonymuslydumb @the-second-sage @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @iexiam @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @starryylies @duck-a-doodle @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @poohkie90 @drewsmusee @yveevie

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aemond goes to Storm’s End to spend some time with the Baratheon daughters as he agreed to marry one of them in exchange of House Baratheon’s banners and men. He spends time with each sisters, and ends up getting along with you the best although your older sister says she deserves the prince more. You disregard their opinion and continue spending time with Aemond. Smut happens in secret…and almost gets caught

Request: Library sex!! Aemond find someone who loves books and reading and they end up having sex or maybee not all the way

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, almost getting caught,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Aemond returned to Storm’s End, he viewed the Baratheon daughters as part of his duty. He was obligated to marry one of you in exchange for your house’s support for his brother’s claim. Any of you would have done the job, but Lord Borros let him choose. 

The daughters, on the other hand, saw him as a valuable prize. He was a prince. They competed fiercely for his favor, each eager to secure the final spot as his bride. 

‘’Did Prince Aemond propose?’’ you asked Floris as she returned from her afternoon with the prince. 

‘’He has not,’’ Floris said, sitting down on the end of the couch, still giddy from her outing. ‘’But he might soon.’’ 

‘’Did you kiss?’’ Cassandra pressed, wondering why her sister assumed so. 

Floris shook her head, and Cassandra sighed, turning her attention back to her embroidery. She was trying to make a dragon to impress Aemond, but it was somehow looking like an oversized bee with a long neck. 

Beside you, Ellyn breathed a dreamy sigh, thinking of the prince’s tall stature and sharp jawline. ‘’I’m seeing him tomorrow. I picked out a dress just for him.’’ 

‘’Is it the blue one?’’ Floris asked. 

Ellyn nodded with a sly smile. At the moment the dress had been made, it fitted Ellyn perfectly, but now her breasts were slightly spilling out of the neckline. It wasn’t appropriate wear for a casual dinner — not anymore. But when a prince was visiting and looking for his future wife, it was perfect. 

‘’That’s unfair. Not all of us have been graced by the Gods…’’ Maris moaned, jealousy evident in her voice.

When she spent time with Aemond, he made it clear that he had no interest in her. He didn’t say he didn’t wish to marry her, but she felt his disinterest. And he didn’t ask to see her again.

Cassandra interrupted, her tone sharp. ‘’As the oldest, I should be the one marrying the prince. I have flowered, therefore I am capable of providing heirs.’’ 

You rolled your eyes without letting her see. Three out of four of your sisters had flowered; it didn’t make her superior. Not anymore. ‘’I doubt heirs are on the prince’s mind right now, Cassandra. Not when there’s a war in preparation.’’

‘’What do you know about war?’’ She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

‘’Why do you think Prince Aemond and Prince Lucerys asked for our father’s banners and men?’’

‘’She’s right,’’ Maris said, agreeing with you. ‘’He is only marrying one of us because his brother needs our house’s support. If the king had not sent him here, he would never have thought of making one of us his wife. I doubt he even knew our names before he flew to Storm’s End on his big dragon.’’ 

Cassandra huffed, refusing to recognize that Maris was right. 

Instead of waiting around for Ellyn’s return with Cassandra, Maris and Floris, you went to the library. You didn’t want to listen to her bragging about Aemond’s eye peeking down at her chest. Using your body to get a man’s interest was not how you planned to find your husband. For seducing the prince. You wanted him to marry you for the person you were, not the size of your breasts. The conversations would be sad.

‘’A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one,’’ a voice you recognized as Aemond’s said quietly, his voice cutting through the stillness.

You raised your head from your book, seeing him standing by one of the shelves. ‘’May I help you with something, my prince?’’ 

Aemond plucked a book from the shelf and glanced at the first page. ‘’Searching for something to occupy my time. I do not mean to denigrate your home, but there is very little to do on Storm’s End.’’ 

‘’You read?’’ you asked, a hint of surprise in your voice. It was rare to find men who were genuinely interested in books.

The prince nodded once. ‘’I have a preference for history books.’’ He closed the book he was holding and returned it to its place on the shelf. 

‘’I’m afraid our library will disappoint you,’’ you said, a touch of regret in your tone. ‘’As you may have noticed, my father cannot read, and neither did my grandsire, so our collection is quite sparse.’’ 

Aemond’s gaze shifted to the book in your hands. ‘’What of the one you are reading?’’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘’I bought it in town. My septa taught me how to read.’’ 

She taught all of your sisters, but only you and Maris were interested in reading. She insisted that reading was knowledge and believed that a woman should be more than just a dutiful wife and mother. Your father would strongly disagree with her; he just sold one of his daughters for a political alliance.

‘’You never brought it up during our outing.’’ 

‘’I didn’t want to bore you.’’ 

Aemond stepped closer, the distance between you narrowing. ‘’I think reading makes you more interesting.’’ 

Your heart quickened as his words hung in the air. 

Before your first outing with Aemond, Floris had warned you not to mention reading or books, saying that men don’t like that. It made you smile to find out she was wrong.

‘’May I join you?’’ He gestured to the seat beside you. 

You nodded, and Aemond gracefully sat beside you. He took the book from your grasp. You wanted to protest, but he began reading to you, his voice deep in tone, but soft and calm at the core. No one had ever read to you before. 

The torches on the walls of the library casted a golden hue over the room, creating a serene atmosphere. If your sisters knew of this intimate moment, they would be jealous. Especially Cassandra. You would love to see her reaction, watching her jaw tighten as she glared at you. 

Occasionally, Aemond would pause and you heard the gentle rustle of pages turning. You allowed yourself to steal glances at him from time to times, watching his lips move as he read. He must have caught you because sometimes the corner would twitch into a slight smile.

While he read, Aemond’s voice wrapped around you like a warm embrace, each word painting vivid images in your mind. You could listen to him for hours. 

‘’Why did you stop?’’ you asked, turning your head to look at Aemond with a frown drawing between your eyebrows. 

He didn’t say anything. He simply looked back at you, his one eye intensely holding your gaze, and you felt a magnetic pull drawing you closer. You wanted to be all up in his personal space. You wanted to touch his face, gently trace the line of his jaw and feel the warmth of his lips beneath your fingertip.

Aemond’s gaze lowered from your eyes to your lips, sending your heart racing with a newfound intensity. Maybe this unchaperoned moment was not a good idea? Or, maybe it was exactly what you needed? Before he knew it, Aemond’s hand touched your chin, guiding it towards him. He gave you a chance to pull back, to deny him, but only a fool would do so. 

You let your desire take control, closing the gap between you and kissing him. He instinctively leaned in and deepened the kiss, so tender but passionate at the same time. His scent filled your nose, his fingers in your hair while his lips pulled your bottom lip softly as he pulled away. 

A silence filled the air, your head still spinning from the kiss. You reached out to tenderly caress Aemond’s face, soft and smooth beneath your palm.  

Aemond dove for a second kiss, and you heard the thud of the book falling to the ground, completely forgotten. At another moment, you would have picked it up right away, but your mind was…occupied. 

You reached behind Aemond’s neck and pulled him closer to you, his own hands grabbing at your waist and hips as the intensity of the kiss increased. 

It wasn’t in the prince’s habits to kiss a woman like that — to kiss a woman, ever —, but something within Aemond was pushing him to make a move on you. Was this the desire his brother often told him about? 

Humming against his mouth, you grabbed at the front of his jacket, needing something to grab onto as you felt your lower belly start to tingle. The new sensation caused you to shift in your seat, the sudden throbbing between your legs making sitting on a chair very uncomfortable.

‘’Did I hurt you?’’ Aemond asked when you broke the kiss. 

You shook your head. ‘’No. I… Please keep going.’’

He searched your eyes for a sign that would contradict your words, and resumed when he couldn’t find any. 

He slid his hand up your arm and pulled down your sleeve from your shoulder, his warm palm brushing against your bare skin and rising goosebumps. You glanced down at your newly uncovered shoulder, breathing heavily. Aemond then moved down your sides to cup one of your breasts, causing your breath to catch in your throat. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing his chest flush against you. It was a clumsy position on the small reading couch, but Aemond manoeuvered himself to make it work. His hands slid down your back as his mouth traveled lower, to the dip in your throat, kissing your neck. You moaned under his mouth, the new sensation awakening so many new feelings inside you. He reached down your leg to find the bottom of your skirts and lifted the fabric to ghost his hand over your ankle and up your leg, bunching the hem up as you breathed heavily. 

You knew where he was going — and you wanted it. Gentleman as always, he stopped and searched for your eyes, needing your consent before pursuing. You nodded, excitement bubbling as you felt his palm on the inner part of your thigh, very close to where you wanted him. His name left your lips in a whisper, a soft beg. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing his name as he dove his hand between your legs. You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, gently caressing the outside of you before swiping between your folds, causing you to gasp.

On the scale of forbidden things by your father, indulging in sexual activities outside of marriage — in his castle — was most likely at the top. He did not wish for his daughters to have a bastard baby or lose worth because they lost their maidenhood.

You should have asked Aemond to stop and pushed him away. But your desires were telling you to open your legs and let him in — literally. 

‘’Ahh,’’ you breathed out, your fist clenching over the prince’s clothed bicep as his long finger was deep inside of you, getting squeezed by your clenching walls. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, intently watching your expressions as you discovered a new pleasure. 

Aemond pressed his thumb down over your clit, and started to gently massage it. 

‘’Right there! It feels so good.’’ You sighed immediately and opened your legs a bit more, biting your lower lip to keep yourself from being too loud. There was no one else in the library, but anyone could come in. 

He added another finger, making you moan and pant around him. 

Unfortunately, the pleasure was short-lived as a servant calling your name. 

‘’H-here, Jeyne,’’ you replied, trying to keep your voice steady to avoid any suspicion.

You heard her footsteps approaching on the library’s floor, and you and Aemond quickly composed yourselves. You smoothed down the skirts of your dress while he picked up your book from the floor and opened it, pretending to read as Jeyne arrived.

The servant was visibly surprised to find Aemond with you as all your time in his company had to be chaperoned. She bowed her head to him respectfully before turning to you. ‘’I did not know you had company, miss.’’ Her tone indicated she was searching for gossip. 

You smiled kindly — and innocently — at Jeyne. ‘’Prince Aemond found me in the library during my afternoon reading. I was helping him find a book to take to his chamber as he forgot to bring one for his stay. You are not interrupting.’’ 

Despite their outward trustworthiness, you knew servants had loose lips, and that’s how rumors from the castle spread around town. 

‘’What is it that you wanted?’’ you asked, pressing her leave.

Jeyne glanced nervously between you and Aemond before speaking. ‘’Your father requests your presence in the great hall, miss. A raven arrived from Winterfell and he is struggling to read it.’’

You nodded, maintaining your composed demeanor. ‘’Thank you, Jeyne. Please inform my father that I will be there shortly.’’

You watched Jeyne leave, and let out a breath once she was out of earshot. That was close. Getting caught in a compromising position would not have been good for your reputation. 

Aemond closed his book, a frown marring his composed posture. ‘’I apologize for losing my manners, miss Y/N. I don't usually engage in these kinds of…activities in public places.’’ The mention of sex seemed to make him uncomfortable. His usual confidence was replaced by a rare vulnerability.

‘’I don’t either,’’ you said, your cheeks flushed as you stared at the skirt of your dress. ‘’I…I should get going. I promised to help Cassandra pick her dress for tomorrow. Not all dresses are suited for horseback riding.’’ You rose from the reading couch, giving Aemond one last glance. ‘’I’ll see you later at dinner, my prince.’’ 

You made a move to leave, but Aemond clasped his hand over your wrist. His touch was firm yet gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. ‘’That won't be necessary,’’ he interrupted, his voice low and steady. ‘’In case I haven't made myself clear, I've already made my choice. I want you.’’

—

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[scriptseekstories]

Queen Bee’s Hive

Chapter 9- Dreams Are Lies

A/N: is that a new screenshot I see? And guess what? I MADE THAT SHIT lmao

You can’t really remember your life before the night you opened your eyes in that warehouse. The very first memories you can even vaguely recall was your mama, her beautiful face as she held you tightly in her arms.

You can barely remember voices of distinct people shouting at you, barely remember Ivy and her soothing presence, yet remember your mama so perfectly as if your brain refused to let go of her.

Your dreams allow you to see her, her blurry body yet perfect face. Those were the good nights, however, for your brain likes to torment you with dreams that are filled with screams that you can barely identify, blurred figures running past you, and the glowing eyes of Batman.

This dream tonight was different, yet common.

Nothing was around you. Endless void across miles and miles of what hog couldn’t figure out the location. You’ve been walking around for who knows how long, rubbing your arms in a soothing way.

You tend to hate these dreams, as you always end up meeting Them. The other you, they claim to be, the one who took control the moment you opened your eyes in the warehouse.

The Bee Beast.

“Took you long enough, you finally decide to talk instead of being a wuss and avoiding me?” You spoke up, seemingly talking to nothing, but you knew they were here, you always knew.

“They Hurt us… hurt you…” The echoing voice croaked out, and you quickly turned to stare up at… well, you. You weren’t sure if this was a Jekyll and Hyde situation, or that you’re the real version, being human and all, and this was some sort of parasite.

“Listen, ominous discombobulated voice of the Bee Beast. I don’t know who “they” is, but you gotta let me leave,” You were getting sick of these cryptic words they spewed out every time you confront them- yourself? You didn’t care.

“Can’t… safe here…” When you first heard them say those words, you were scared and alone, only hearing the voice similar to yours, yet it soothed you and calmed you down as your mind drifted into a slumber.

But now, it made you angry hearing them, as if they wanted you to be kept here forever, forced to sit in the back of your mind like a caged memory.

“Like hell this is safe! I’m trapped in this endless void forced to watch you take control! Let me out!” From a distance, you squinted your eyes to see them, the Bee Beast sitting down facing away from you.

“You’re the one trying to run away from these little memories we have because of what?! Fear of acknowledging that what you’re doing is insane?!” You scowled, walking towards them

“I’m… sorry…” Was all they said before you walked straight into a hard surface. You cursed as you began to feel what seemed to be an invisible barrier, causing your anger to spike up.

“FUCK!!” You slammed your fists, “It’s MY life too!! You can’t be a coward and keep me here!!” You kept on smashing your fists against the invisible barrier, watching the Bee Beast walk further away from you.

Tears of frustration welled in your eyes as the blinding light that indicated you were waking up appeared. You weren’t ready yet, you needed more time to try and interrogate them, demand why it was so important for them to take control.

Yet all was in vain.

“RRRAAAAAGGGGHHH!!”

꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁

Your body jolted awake, gasping for air as you sat upright, your four limbs flailing. That damn dream was causing you more stress than when you’re awake. Clutching onto the bottle full of glowing pollen spend your neck as a way to comfort yourself, you took deep breaths while feeling around you.

Blankets, wooden bed frame, your legs, and your nightstand. You listed out the things you felt to have your brain know you were okay. You opened your eyes and adjusted your vision to see your room clearly. A humble room with glow in the dark stars in your ceiling thanks to Harley, little succulent plants from Ivy, and probably stolen jewels from Selina as housewarming gifts.

“Queen Bee?” Your doors slid apart and opened to show one of your worker bees, a former “street” worker named Angie who saved from an aggressive customer. She was gentle, someone who just tried to survive in the streets of Gotham.

“Sorry to wake you, but we welcomed more who seek shelter,” She gently said, her newly acquired antennas twitching with joy. You smiled and got up from your bed nest, towering over her.

“Excellent, give them… a dose of my honey to… welcome them,” You reassured her, making her smile in surprise hearing your speech improved greatly. Still hesitate to fully utter words, but you’re getting better.

“We got it boss!” One other worker poked out behind Angie, a kid who tried to rob your drones for jars of your honey, to which you offered a home in your hive. Angie glared at him before rolling her eyes and ruffling his hair.

“I’ll be out there to greet our new family,” You called to the two while they walked away, the doors closing. You ran your hands across your head, pushing down your antennas and made them bounce back as the sun beamed through your windows.

Your hive was expanding, drones and workers are growing, and your honey is actually selling big thanks to Penguin. Your beehive buzzed with content, little larvae of bees hatched and are growing strong with pollen collected from you.

What more could you ever want?

You knocked over a box that scattered across the ground when you turned to leave your room. You looked down to see tapes laid on the floor. The tapes that were collected inside this warehouse, now Hive. You kept them, a sense of familiarity seeing them.

You grabbed one, flipping it over to inspect the labels. They were all dated years back, titled “entry 12”, “important notes”, or “Failed experiments”. Yet one caught your eye, one that had you curious.

“For… (Name)…?” It had your name, or at least you believed it was your name. Ivy referred to you as (Name) before, but that was only one time, using the nickname Bumblebee ever since.

Nevertheless, you crouched under your bed and pulled out the very old tv you kept to collect dust underneath, plugging it in and injecting the tape into it. You were curious, maybe this will help your memories in finally making sense, and maybe you’ll see your mother again.

Static speaker across the screen when it began, before glitching to a figure in a lab coat. Your eyes widened and your thorax chattered when you witness your mother come into screen, sitting down in the camera with a tired smile.

She looked distant from your dreams. Older, content, yet still beautiful. She cleared her throat and awkwardly waved at the camera, to which you instinctively waved back slightly.

Seems like your old self is still there.

“Project: Honey is going to be big. It’s going to save hundreds of bees, plants, and animals. It’s my dream to have this breakthrough known across the globe,” Your mother spoke, lifting her finger to show a few bees crawling all over her hands, the Queen perched on her stretched out finger.

“But… it’s not just about fame. It’s about us, (Name),” You straightened yourself at the mention of your name, “It’s our family growing from nothing, becoming something when no one else had your back. It’s family,” Your mother had a small content smile, watching the bees crawling over her hands, buzzing and flapping their wings.

“(Name), my beautiful (Name), you’re going to be someone big in life. Someone who will lead people and protect them with your incredibly smart brain and passion,” She stared into the camera, “Don’t be consumed by my work that will overshadow who you truly are. My baby,” Setting the Queen bee down, your mother sat directly across the camera, wiping tears in her eyes.

“I love you, sweetie. Don’t ever forget that part of you that brings that bright smile,” And with that, the video clipped into static, the sounds of the tv filling your ears as you sat in silence. The room seemed to be smaller, making you feel ever so small, like a child again.

“Mama…” You whispered, letting tears flow down. The dreams of your mother now seemed to be lies with how much you forgot her features. Her hair, eyes, nose, all seemed to different in your dreams than her on these tapes.

You must watch all these tapes, to see more of her. But your frantic attempt to grab all the tapes were interrupted by your doors sliding open, your antennas twitching wildly from the sense of fear.

“Queen Bee!! Intruder!!” One of the younger drones, a 13 year old kid ran into your room in a frantic state, their beanie pushing their antennas down, yet the tingling of fear still vibrated that you felt the whole hive shake with agitation.

“Who is it?” You asked without stammers or pauses, standing up fully while feeling your throws chatter with fury. Who dared attempt to invade your home and torment your people?

“The Joker!!”

꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁

Damien followed Duke when he snuck out with his Signal suit to patrol in a very specific area. Duke doesn’t patrol at night, either his powers being most useful in the daylight. Yet the boy wonder could read him like a book, he was stalking around that warehouse.

“Father wouldn’t appreciate you draining yourself like this, it’ll be a pain to deal with a mopey you more than a mopey Grayson,” Damien jumped and crouched right next to Duke, who said nothing to even acknowledge Damien.

“Some investor claimed it… took everything out of that place…” Duke gritted his teeth seeing construction men finishing up their late night shift in fixing the outside of the warehouse, “We should’ve brought those tapes with us… their mother’s memories would still…” Damien followed Duke’s gaze down at the building.

Some real estate investors took property of the warehouse the family, making good out of the horrid memories that held from that place. To them, it was a nightmare seeing your corpse… yet to you, it was an escape.

Duke pleaded to Bruce they should save whatever was left in that warehouse for you, but their father was still grieving to do anything but wander aimlessly in the Manor. Even Damien had to admit, he was stupid to not even grab whatever seemed important to you.

Yet he was already stupid enough to never see you as his sibling.

“What we have done to our late sibling… we cannot erase,” He whispered, “Some of us more at fault than others…” His heart aches each day when he wakes up from memories of him tormenting you, scaring you a way with his swords, sending Titus to chase you, his demeaning words about your mother…

“Those hours of spending time with them, even if it was just a few hours, felt like I knew them forever,” The youngest looked up at Duke, who was wiping his tears from under his helmet. Damien felt his throat tighten, looking away and stared at the seemingly empty warehouse.

“…What were they like for those hours…?” He shouldn’t feel shame in asking, yet it felt like he wasn’t worthy of even asking about who you were. His voice wobbled ever so slightly, making Duke let out a quiet sigh.

“Clumsy,” Duke chuckled, “(Name) always seemed like they had two left feet, got worse when they got excited. They also have this… bright smile that lit up the room, a lopsided and crooked one yet I wish to see them again,” He mumbled, the look in his eyes making it seemed like he was raised to the hip next to you.

Damien listened in silence while Duke passionately talked about you, as if he knew you so well from the little time he spent with you. He wanted that feeling, the feeling that he would know you like the back of his hand, the feeling of even thinking about you was a cherish thing to experience.

The League of Assassins taught him that showing vulnerability, showing empathy and trust was a weakness. Yet here he was, imagining that your hugs would be like, your excited rambled about bees, what you would’ve done for your family if they did the same for you.

Weakness was all Damien needed if it meant having you back with them again. He wanted his older sibling to hold him while he cried in their arms while apologizing over and over.

Maybe you would’ve forgave him then.

“All Robins, return to the Batcave. We finally broke through H.I.V.E, all patrolling fall in,” The sudden static noise from the comms of Batman’s voice snapped Damien out of his thoughts. He responding his usually stern way, but Duke didn’t respond.

“We have to follow father’s orders, there must be important information for us about (Name),” Damien urged, for once feeling hope that he’ll finally get to know you, even if you’re gone, your memories will live on.

“But-…” Duke didn’t want leave, his eye catching a slight glow from the inside. Damien gave him a look, one of genuine sympathy and sternness, causing the meta human to hesitate. With one last glance, the two heroes disappeared into the rooftops of Gotham.

Buzzzzz

They failed to see the truck filled with clown goons and a certain green haired clown driving towards The Hive.

A/N: Okay so some things are confusing, so I’ll give you a little rundown. Kinda hard to explain but you’re both the same person, but two versions?

Basically Human Reader and “Bee Reader” are somewhat similar to Bruce Banner and Hulk. Both fighting for control and able to talk to one another when dreaming. Yet you aren’t aware that those dreams are real and you are actually talking to your other half, only believing that those are simply just dreams.

Both of you don’t remember anything except your mother from your past, but you will remember everything… eventually.

I also took inspiration of that one Spider-Man comic where Peter “died” and from his body came out a giant spider-like beast, who eventually died too and Human Peter crawled out of the body all alive and okay.

So take that as you will-

And finally, Cobblepot pulled a few strings and staged a whole signing of him buying out the warehouse with a fake name so no one would suspect anything out of the ordinary while you could keep doing your honey business.

Anyways, hope that gives you context, if not I’m sorry 😭

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[winningmymind]

(wholesome twinyard ficlet) Andrew pats Aaron's head sometimes

It starts in their joint therapy session, when Bee has somehow managed to pull a truth from Aaron's screwed tight lips after switching up her tactics to get Andrew's other half to be more candid with his feelings.

"Is that really what you want?" The question hangs in the air, spoken from Andrew himself, his identical hazel eyes taking notice of Aaron's strained face and reddening ears.

They give it a few minutes. The silence having a chance to settle until broken between them. It's difficult for Aaron to process what he even said aloud. A deep yearning he never thought to let anyone know. Not even Katelyn. Let alone Andrew and Bee. Reminds him of stretching, how it can be both painful and relieving. He's experiencing both right now and it fucking sucks.

".......Yes." Aaron hisses, swallowing his pride, embracing embarrassment, and feels the rest of his skin flushing a pretty rosy color at the vulnerability of it all. He loathes this part of growing and healing.

If only he could turn invisible, or reverse his confession, anything to run away from confronting his barrier of repression head on. Aaron refuses to make eye contact with Andrew, latching his attention to his untied shoe and bouncing leg full of anxiety.

Bee simply smiles at the progress made in the last hour, fondly addressing both Minyards with a clap of her hands to draw their attention.

"Then it's settled. For this next step, Andrew, when comfortable, you are to pat Aaron on the head occasionally. Get used to touching him in a brotherly fashion. Give him the praise he needs when times get rough or just because you feel like being affectionate. How does that sound?"

It's sounds absurd in Aaron's opinion. Why oh why did today's session, and the previous one, and the one before that have to highlight on Aaron's touch starved coping mechanisms paralleling Andrew's touch aversion issues? Why did Bee have to point out that specific pattern of theirs? Why can't Bee be shit at her job?

He wouldn't know how to conduct himself if Andrew willingly ruffled his hair like how he saw other siblings, normal and loving siblings do on TV sitcoms/in the family picture movies/after Exy little leagues games when his fellow teammates had someone cheering them on and ready to take them home to celebrate wins/comfort any losses.

(Aaron had to walk by himself every time because Tilda never did the bare minimum of showing up to support no matter how many times he circled the dates on fridge calendar).

He still remembers the sting of his hair getting pulled, scalp screaming in protest, shock overtaking his system as Andrew demands if Drake got his filthy paws on him. In the midst of a dead body and fresh blood, a part of Aaron's brain had sent signals of irrational happiness that Andrew might possibly care for him deeply, and that he can count on one hand all the instances where he's felt his twin's frantic hands checking to see if he was hurt by someone Andrew meant to protect him from.

Bee waits patiently for Andrew's response on if he'll agree. Aaron, who is now nervously tapping a finger to his knee to keep from squirming in his seat, kind of hopes his twin rejects the task and they can never discuss this topic ever again.

"I'll do it." Andrew says after drinking the last remnants of his hot cocoa, his tone laced in boredom, but both Bee and Aaron are picking up on Andrew's subtle communication differences and know that the Foxes goalie finds this therapy challenge very interesting.

Aaron let's out the breath he didn't know he was holding in. He didn't expect Andrew to comply this easily. He learned not to expect anything from Andrew, really, so it surprises him how his honesty is getting him the desired results a teenaged Aaron, a toddler Aaron, any version of Aaron pre-college could only hopelessly wish for. Wish granted, it seems.

"Alright! We'll talk about it in next week's session then. Thank you both for sharing your time with me." Bee's smiles are too sweet after each dismissal and Aaron practically bolts out of her office to the car while Andrew's in absolutely no rush to leave, purposely taking his time walking.

Bee quietly wishes the twins good luck, happy they're taking the necessary and belated baby steps together that they once were robbed of at birth.

-------

"Dude. Just stay in bed. Seriously." Matt pleads, placing bottles of water, Gatorade, and a bowl of microwaved canned soup in a mug on the nightstand beside Aaron's bed.

"I... can... make... it." Aaron's throat is on fire. Body feels heavy, skin feels hot. He's shivering, though, enough to clatter his teeth like he's in a snowstorm. Fever's most likely setting in.

"You're sick." Matt dares to press a hand to Aaron's forehead and the touch feels nice, so reassuring. Aaron will take that to his grave. "Coach will understand. Trust."

"But-"

"Nuh-uh. You're useless like this. Plus, no one would appreciate you spreading your icky cooties."

"It's germs." Aaron corrects and Matt merely shakes his head, pulling out his phone, probably texting the group chat that Aaron's out of commission.

In seconds, Coach and Kevin have barred Aaron from coming to court (Coach because he worries about all his Foxes and Kevin because he needs Aaron fully functional for defense). There are a few well wishes from his teammates. Aaron has no idea if they're being polite or if they genuinely care. Neil texts him "don't die" and that's the closest form of concern Aaron will get from the mafioso brat.

Nicky's immediately calling and promising to nurse him to health once practice is over. Andrew doesn't text nor call. That pissed him off, but Aaron is used to it. Not being acknowledged. He drinks his liquids and forces himself to finish the soup because Matt unfortunately gives a damn about him, going above and beyond as a roommate. He can see why Neil likes the upperclassman.

Aaron took some medicine already, the kind that makes one drowsy, and Katelyn texts that she'll take notes for him should he miss class this week. If he's got a fever, then Aaron should just sleep in a light bedsheet. He's a creature of habit, however, and he rationalizes that the soft and thick covers are a better texture for him to wrap up in a cozy cocoon. Has Aaron believing he's being tenderly hugged and he burrows under them in poor judgement, ignoring how uncomfortably sweaty he's getting.

When he wakes up some time later, not understanding how he fell asleep in the first place, mind all dazed, Andrew is there in his dorm. So is Nicky, but Aaron can only focus on Andrew's glaringly unexpected presence.

"My baby!" Nicky is dramatic as always. Mother henning like no other like he said he would.

Andrew isn't standing too far away from the bed, leaning against the door threshold, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. Eyes on Aaron.

"Where's your shadow?" Aaron pants out the question, fatigue beating his ass, and apparently invoking Neil's whereabouts must be a curse because he unintentionally summons a nasty coughing fit.

"Drink! Aaron! Drink!" Nicky presses a bottle to Aaron's lips while patting his back soothingly.

Andrew intently watches Aaron's body loosen at Nicky's gentle touch, tense muscles relaxing instantly. He lets Aaron's coughing subside before answering. "Didn't want to risk getting sick. Sends his regards."

Aaron would laugh if he had the energy and if his throat wasn't against him. Andrew produces a big bag of throat lozenges from thin air it seems and tosses it in Aaron's lap. It's the flavor Aaron likes the most be it gum, chapstick, candy: cherry. Why the fuck does Neil "Always Lying Little Shit" Josten know that?!

"You need to change out of these sweaty clothes, Aaron. I'll go get you my hoodie. The one you like to steal from me. I'll be right back!" Nicky darts out the door.

Andrew lifts a brow to Aaron. Aaron interprets that as Andrew being curious about the significance of Nicky's hoodie. It's a story, an untold bond that Aaron and Nicky share that Andrew isn't privy to. Maybe, he's being immature, but Aaron won't tell Andrew shit if he's not asked. Let his twin stew in unsaid inquiries. Aaron can be mysterious too. He's eager for Nicky to return, choosing to distract himself from Andrew's piercing gaze and patiently wait by recalling why he's needy of his cousin's hoodie.

Whenever Aaron's sick (which is rare these days since Andrew became a constant in his life) he wears one of Nicky's hoodies. It started when he was much younger, a consistent sickly child. His mom barely cared to check up on him and Nicky had forgotten to take some of his clothes when Luther had the Hemmicks stay over Tilda's for religious holiday dinners as a family. Aaron had slipped one of the forgotten hoodies on and felt engulfed in warmness, his mind pretending that he was in Nicky's welcoming arms, cradled and cooed over, feeling loved for a brief moment in the chaos when Tilda preferred dosing on medicine meant for the improvement of Aaron's health.

Nicky leaving means Aaron and Andrew are alone with each other. Aaron wouldn't mind if he weren't weak right now. He struggles to open the lozenges, popping one in his mouth to suck on after numerous tries. Andrew still leans on the threshold, watching him. Aaron snuggles into the covers more like it's a shield from all his troubles.

"What do you have?" Andrew's straight to the point.

"Fever." Aaron replies.

"To break a fever you need to stay cool." Andrew steps away from the threshold, steps closer to the bed. "Ditch the covers. Bedsheets are better."

Aaron defensively tugs the covers more around his body. "I like it." As if that's any decent excuse.

By now, Andrew's standing next to Aaron's sitting form. He studies how ruddy Aaron's face is, the damp hair stuck to his forehead. In one swift move, Andrew rips the covers off Aaron. He sees his stubborn twin shout in protest while being drenched in sticky sweat, t-shirt clinging like a second skin.

"No more of this." Andrew orders, pointing at the covers swathing Aaron and Aaron scowls.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"This isn't up for debate."

Before Aaron could spit out another retort, upset that his brother is right, and that he should listen, and that he knows better as a pre-med student but since it's Andrew bossing him around with piss poor bedside manner it triggers Aaron's obstinacy...

Words die on his tongue the moment Andrew's palm lies flat atop Aaron's head.

Oh. He's doing Bee's task. Andrew is patting Aaron. He's delicately touching Aaron in such a subduing way.

"Bedsheets only until it breaks, Aaron." Andrew reiterates, expression unchanging as Aaron's jaw drops and eyes widen owlishly. It's like he's one of those fierce wild animals that gets pet for the first time and is paralyzed by the foreign sensation.

"....Okay." Aaron is quelled effortlessly, chest warm, threat of a smile on his lips, and he hates that.

"Hmm." Andrew still pats Aaron on the head for a long time, the only indication he's not as impassive as he looks is the glint in his matching hazel eyes, something cooking in his mind with this new information.

Aaron's eyes get half-lidded, from the medicine, his fever, or the endorphins and serotonin from Andrew's hand in his hair - he has no idea. When it's clear Nicky's coming back by the sound of his loud footsteps, Andrew pulls his hand away and Aaron wished their cousin stayed away a little longer so he could enjoy the affection more.

"Here ya go!" Nicky holds up the hoodie proudly, cluelessly interrupting the twins building a bridge they didn't know they needed, and Aaron peels off his soaked shirt to trade for the hoodie.

"I'll go make you food. A Nicky Hemmick special that'll knockout the cooties lickety-split!"

He's gone again. Aaron is drowning in the hoodie, sleeves floppy, and he looks smaller than he really is. Andrew wordlessly thumbs the material, nodding in approval that it's thin enough and won't overheat Aaron should he sleep in the bedsheets.

"Rest." Andrew lingers, making certain Aaron lays back down and closes his eyes, on the verge of losing consciousness.

Aaron is halfway into dreamland, breathing slowing and thoughts escaping. He thinks he feels a featherlight stroking on his forehead that threads through his hair and contentedly sighs.

-------

It becomes a thing. Andrew patting Aaron's head at random.

Aaron is healthy. Kevin barks game plays at him and Aaron rolls his eyes. Neil teases him for having a fragile immune system and Aaron takes pleasure exaggeratingly coughing in his face. Nicky is being extra and Aaron has to shame him to calm it down.

Andrew acts the same towards him, sans the head pats.

"When did this happen?" Neil is so nosy.

"None of your business!" Aaron growls, and his anger is less effective when Andrew is disheveling his hair to the point that Aaron is positive it'll look like he's having a bad hair day.

"I think it's cute." Nicky beams, always a cheerleader for the twins to get along.

"Who cares?" Kevin holds a tray of the most unappetizing glasses of protein shakes. "Stop stalling and drink these."

"Uh, no freaking way." Neil scrunches his nose. "No one told you to make that."

"Our poor blender suffered for this concoction?" Nicky faux cries.

"It has banana in it." Kevin fails to persuade.

Aaron leans into Andrew's palm some more, impressed with himself for not feeling weird about accepting Andrew's affection in front of their friends. It's a big change for Andrew, too, being physically expressive to Aaron. They only do this when alone or with the Monsters, not when the rest of the Foxes can witness.

Nicky and Kevin are busy arguing over the ethics of milkshakes being sugary and tasty or protein fueled and disgusting. Neil grew bored and sets his sights on Aaron.

"Andrew's been patting your head for five minutes straight. Someone's clingy." Neil can choke and die, bastard.

Instead of his usual rise at the bait, Aaron takes a page from Bee to switch tactics, his body too relaxed to be argumentative.

"Don't be jealous." He imitates Bee's calm and collected voice, smirking smugly at Neil's offended face.

"I'm not-"

"Ooh, shots fired!" Nicky, able to sniff drama like a bloodhound, joyously applauds.

"Shut up, Nicky!"

"I'm just saying."

"Say less, then."

"Excuse me! I didn't make these shakes for them to be wasted!"

"Do you want to be killed, Kevin?"

-------

Bee's office still irritates Aaron.

"How was it?"

Andrew sips his hot cocoa. Aaron picks at a loose thread on his jeans.

"It went well, I suppose."

"How do you know that?" Aaron glares at her and she smiles sweetly.

"Well, you aren't complaining. That's a key indicator."

Aaron huffs and crosses his arms. Andrew never looks at Aaron. He looks at Bee.

"It was nice." He looks away from Bee, back to sipping hot cocoa.

Aaron snaps his head at Andrew, surprised. Bee furiously jots notes in her pad, her face pleased.

"Aaron? Was it nice for you, too?"

He hesitates, eyes still on Andrew. Aaron doesn't look at Bee. "....Yeah."

The session ends and they leave for the car. Neither talk. Aaron stares out the window. He practices on autopilot. He cracks open his textbooks and puts on background noise. His routine is back to normal.

And when he stresses over an upcoming test that Katelyn can't comfort him in, or Matt snitches to Neil that Aaron woke up from another nightmare from past traumas, or if he's passed out from exhaustion on the couch from overstimulation...

Andrew comes by somehow in the nick of time and pats him on the head and it's almost like what Aaron saw between siblings on TV/in the movies/after Exy little league games. He never knows when it's coming, but when it does, Aaron is internally over the moon about it.

Each time Andrew reaches out for him, Aaron sways into it, and pretends, perhaps even believes, it's his twin's way of subtly saying "good job/you're wanted/I love you."

After all, Aaron's training to be a doctor, and doctors have to learn how to read people and figure out the facts from fiction. So, Aaron figures it out.

Andrew's actions speak louder than words and Aaron's finally listening to them.

[jajanvm-imbi]

The fact that Stolas was allowed to get away with ALL of the shit he did to Blitz by lying about what he did is honestly a little upsetting.

If Stolas confessed what ACTUALLY happened, if he confessed that he allowed Blitz to use Grimoire for sexual favors, I would maybe have more respect for him.

But he LIED. He spout out this "Mastermind" bullshit and was able to get away with abusing someone of a lower class for his sexual pleasure.

Clarification because people are being stupid:

Wasn't the whole point of Ozzie's and Ozzie/Fizz supposed to be that the idea of Demon Royalty having any sort of intimate relationship was seen as scandalous?

I'm not saying the court would have cared if Stolas abusing an Imp would have gotten him in trouble, but the fact that Stolas slept with an Imp at all would have at least caused some scandal, and Stolas could have faced societal consequences for sleeping with an Imp (in addition for letting an Imp use the Grimoire).

But that detail has been relatively inconsistent throughout the whole series, especially with Bee and Tex.

And it doesn't even matter if Stolas faced legal consequences for sleeping with an Imp, if he just admit what he did was wrong in front of Blitz, taking responsibility IN PUBLIC for his actions would have been better for their supposed "relationship"

It could have shown Blitz that Stolas DID care about him. If this was well written, it could have easily contrasted with what happened in Ozzie's. Stolas hiding his face, ashamed of being seen with Blitz in public, resulting in Blitz feeling rejected, to then Stolas telling all of the most important people in Hell that they DID have a sexual relationship, but he called it off because it didn't feel right anymore.

Like I genuinely don't understand how this is so difficult to understand. What was the point of Stolas lying about having this grand Master plan or whatever if he could have just told the truth and the outcome would have been the same???

But noooooo, we can't do something that makes SENSE in this series in order to have meaningful development, nah we gotta add random shit for no reason!!!

Stolas would have been stripped of his power anyway AND faced the consequences of what he did to Blitz AND it would have developed their relationship in a way that feels MEANINGFUL.

For some strange reason it's like the writers consistently forget things they did in PREVIOUS EPISODES

It would have been so much more impactful if Stolas just told the TRUTH!!!

Stolas faced consequences, but not for his abuse towards Blitz, he only faced the consequences for Blitz's use of the Grimoire.

And we're meant to see it as this big huge heroic romantic gesture towards Blitz????

I'm getting so sick if this shit. I'm getting so sick of Vivziepop REFUSING to actually make Stolas face the consequences for what he did to Blitz. I think she still believes he didn't actually do anything wrong.

And stripping away Stolas's title and power is just a way to try to get people to stop throwing the fact that there is a MASSIVE power in balance in Biltz and Stolas's relationship in her face.

"He's not a prince anymore! They're equals now! They can be together!!" I can hear them say.

Doesn't change the fact that when Stolas WAS a prince, he did in fact ABUSE Blitz

It WAS an abuse of power. Stolas coerced Blitz into a transactional sexual relationship by only giving him access to the Grimoire if Blitz slept with him.

I am going to make the same argument others have made because they are absolutely correct:

If Blitz was a WOMAN, yall would be losing your SHIT over how manipulative and abusive that is.

Just because Blitz said he didn't mind doing it doesn't mean it wasn't an abuse of power.

Edit: I didn't even use the main tags this time???? Where are all of yall Stolas defenders coming from?? I used the critical tags EXCLUSIVELY it's like yall are LOOKING for people to fight with

Edit #3:

I thought this was a good addition to the discussion so I'll add it to the main post so people can actually SEE IT

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x Afab!reader

PART FIVE

NSFW

Well! Five parts later and here is your bee-smut! There will be other parts to this, and part six will probably be up by later tonight, since I'm on a roll rn. tw: breasts WILL be mentioned lol

When Rena finally stopped flying, you were outside of a large structure. You’d always imagined the hive itself as a sort of large cartoon beehive, but instead found something that looked more like a gymnasium. The outside coating looked almost like a gray paper mache, no sharp edges in sight. The “building” stood four stories tall and seemed to form itself around the impossibly tall trees of the ancient wood. It stretched impossibly wide, and you couldn’t tell quite how long the building stretched on.

There were several guard bees at the entrance. You recognized one of them as a bee-men you had met at the music festival. They saw you and Rena and immediately moved aside, Rena pushing you through the door. She eventually grabbed your hand and started to guide you through what seemed like tunnels.

The ceiling shone with a faint light, much like the inside of the shed you had visited once. You weren’t able to do much. You were out of breath from your running when you eventually made it to a large room with a high ceiling. You could see about thirty bee-men, scattered around this way and that. Many of them met your eyes, looks of pity, and despair settling in the ridges between their eyebrows and noses. You kept on, until Rena brought you through another tunnel, passing room after room. Finally, it seemed you had made it to where you were supposed to be and you saw a figure slumped down in a small alcove in the wall. You’d recognize these those wings anywhere.

“Lyith!” You yelled, running to his side. You turned him over, and you were taken with a strange forbidden feeling  pulsing its way into your head. It was like a current was pushing at the dam of your mind, waiting to break. Lyiths usual, lemon-grapefruit sent had turned sour, like he was rotting. He was pulling in breath after breath, like his lungs couldn’t hold onto any of it. His limbs shook and twitched. He didn’t seem to be aware of anything going on in the room.

“He smells like decaying magic. Whats going on Rena.” You knew what she would say, but refused to believe it.”

“Lyith can’t handle his own mana right now. It's not compatible with his body anymore.” Rena’s eyes were filled with tears.

“But that only happens when you guys are starved for magic right? Haven told me! You guys have been able to get more magic from my honey, why is he…” Your face was hot and your mouth was dry.

“He was very weak before he started getting nutrients. His body didn’t build strength quick enough to adjust to the influx of energy..”

“But you guys were descended from gods right? You're like demigods! Can’t you heal him?”

“The problem isn’t his physical body, it’s his magical one. The structure around his magic is too weak. Listen, Little One, there is still something we can do. You can do.”

Leith let out a gargling buzz. It sounded almost like he was choking.

“You can use your magic. I don’t know how it works, but your mana is very compatible with ours.” She took your hands and pulled them around Lyiths, pressing down firmly.

“There are two forms of magic when it comes to us. Our own magic, and our hives. His magic can’t handle the hives so its burning itself up trying to keep up. If you use your magic and join it to his for a while, you might be able to give him enough strength to endure for a time. But if you do this wrong, and add your magic to that of the hive…”

“It’ll overwhelm him. I’d kill him.”

“He’s already dying, (y/n).” This was the first time Rena had ever called you by name.

You stared out at Lyith’s face, wincing at how he was contorting in pain. It was just like Haven had described. His magic was burning him up.

You didn’t know if this would work, but you had to try. You carefully shook yourself from Rena’s grip, placing your hands onto Lyith’s cheeks. You concentrated on the feeling of magic. Immediately, your vision went starry. You were overwhelmed with white pulsing hot magic. It overtook all of your senses. It took everything you had to mentally claw and pull yourself up enough to be, let alone see. There was so much there. You immediately recognized the feeling of Rena’s mind, then Haven’s then that of so many others who had shared their feelings with you overtimes. You could feel their astonishment. The horror, the joy, the disturbed and the hopeful. You had to pull yourself out of it. This feeling must be the magic of the hive that Rena had been talking about.

You reached your awareness out further, concentrating on Lyith, but it was so hard to find him over the rushing current of magic. You eventually found his pain first, and followed it back to a racing, burning hot feeling. You grasped onto it with all of your might. You reached around and tried to feel out where Lyith began and the rest of the hive began, but it took time. Too much time.

You eventually grasped him, using your magic to form a barrier around his consciousness and the magic that surrounded him. There was no physical realm in your eyes, just magic, and you slowly started to piece your own mana out to his, watching it trickle around him. You could see it then, the structures, the geometry that made him up, like he was a log cabin and his wooden beams were burning. 

Yes! That was it! You saw it now. 

Slowly, you pushed your magic into his structure, fortifying it, adding layers of concrete to his wood. That little pool of energy inside you became a well, and you added it to the weakest parts of the house. A wall had already collapsed so you concentrated on building that up again, using the ash that had already been burnt. The fire, the fire burning the house was trying to consume you too, it hurt, almost forcing your mind back into your body. 

“Little witch please be careful.” Lyith whispered in your ear. But you didn’t have a body, you were a well. The voice had been weak. Too weak. You needed to heal him, build him up again. You continued to work, fueled by your desperate need not to see him die. You gave your magic over to him, and suddenly he wasn’t a house anymore but a garden. LIke your garden! You could feel him completely around you. His breath was your wind, his body the soil.

But his garden was decayed. His flowers were wilted, the stalks browning. You couldn’t leave him like that. Not your Lyith.

“Slow down.” You heard him hiss, from somewhere you couldn’t quite see. A part of you was happy, he was finally awake somewhat. But you were not done yet, you needed to heal him. You took that pool of energy that was inside of yourself and got to work. It was easy, you had done this so often, building up the flowers and letting them grow. Letting them heal.

It felt good. A warm excitement filled your consciousness, urging you on. There was no pain here. Usually when you expel your magic it weakened you. But this. This felt good. Like that ease in your muscles after a good walk.

You continued to build up the garden. You could feel Lyith everywhere. He could feel his strength returning as you worked. The burning fire had turned to a warm summer heat, perfect for growing. 

“You know not what you do little one, I am well, you have to--” He let out a moan. Something within you stirred. He had told you to stop but you could feel him. Feel his mind and his truth. He didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you to stop. You pushed your mind further against him, like a cat rubbing their head against their owner. There was a building of the summer heat coursing through him, through you, and you wanted more. 

You pushed at him, mushed your magic into his garden, totally invading his senses. All you wanted him to think about was you, feel you. And he did. The more magic you channeled into him, the more the excitement built, searing hot pleasure flooding all of your senses. You weren’t sure if it was his or yours. You wanted more. You pushed against him again. You didn’t stop, all you felt was pleasure mounting. Hot needy pleasure. The garden you had made was healed now. His magic was sturdy, strong, healthy. You had done it! You had healed him, and you were together and--

The pulsating, beating heat crescendoed and you cried out, he cried out, and then all you felt and all you two were was ecstasy. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you rode out your high. It was amazing, delicious and your body ached. Your body.. Slowly, your senses came back to you. You had a body. You could feel it now. Toes and fingers and eyes. You could see. And what you saw was Lyith under you, his beautiful eyes glazed over, drool trailing out of his mouth. His skin was hot under your fingertips. During your work you had straddled him. Your underwear was warm, wet, and you could feel a bulge pushing up against your clothed entrance. Your awareness finally pulled away from his and your mind was your own again.

Except it wasn’t wasn’t exactly yours anymore. You felt the ghost of a bond in the back of your head. A bond that trailed back to Lyith. You had done something that couldn’t be undone.

You felt Lyiths large sturdy hands squeeze your thighs. Affection and and loud, resilient devotion. You could taste it on the air, as you focused on it, it overwhelmed all your senses.

“My Queen. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” He breathed out, his voice still ragged.

Queen?

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You pulled back, pushing your body off of Lyith and against the wall of the cot. Your tired, sore body was weakening, as the realization of what you had just done crashed upon you.

“I… I only meant to heal you.”

Lyith looked at you with soft eyes, before pulling himself up to face you.

“And you did. You did it perfectly. But it worked a little too well. You shouldn’t have been able to do that. Not like this.” He reached forward and cradled your hands.

“But it happened.” He pulled your hands to cup his cheeks. He stared at you, his expression complicated. You knew if you pulled on the bond it would all be open to you, every little complicated emotion. There was a tickle in your mind. He wanted you to feel how he felt.

There was sadness, for causing you pain. Ache and relief, to finally have you, pride, to be able to call you his, and for you to call him yours. Bewilderment, that your power was such that you could ensnare him in such a way, and curiosity of how the two of you would maneuver through this. And there was an instinctual part, buzzing and excited to finally have a queen to serve, to breed-”

Okay that was probably a little too far! You pulled back enough for a bit of embarrassment to pass across his face. But he held your gaze. He had shown you all of his truth and you loved him for it. 

“Well, this has been a really wild afternoon.” Rena said, loud enough to break up your scene.

The horror of realizing Rena had just witnessed everything and probably felt it too, made you choke on the air in your throat. Your already hot face charged up to a solar flare.

She was sitting down, leaning against the wall. A feral smirk on her face, both pairs of arms crossed around her chest. One finger was slowly, meaningfully tapping against her arm.

“Well, um-- you see-- it was an accident!” You sputtered, pulling away from Lyiths grasp to the end of the bed. You didn’t look at Lyith, only tried to explain the words of what happened but not finding them.

Rena suddenly stood up, her stance strong as she purposefully stalked towards your end of the bed. Her gaze was burning, a hungry smile on her face as she leaned down, and tilted your chin up with a black finger.

“Little One, only Queens can bond to a Bee-men like that. For a Human, we would have to spend weeks prepping you before you could even manage to attempt what you have done.”

She moved forward, putting both of her knees outside of yours, leaning over you with a fire in her eyes.

“I knew there was something different about you. I want to know what, and I want you to do that again.” Her bottom set of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush to her. Her other hand gripped your shoulder.

Your heart was roaring now, and you looked to Lyith for help. He was watching with amusement, leaning back against the headboard wall of the cot. There wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in his features or his mind.  Whatever was going on, he was definitely down for it. 

You swallowed thickly.

“C-can’t we t-take a moment to think this over?” 

She ignored you, her gaze straying to your lips. The hands at your waist started to roam, gently moving up and down, one wandered to the hem of your shirt, the other cupping the curve of your ass and rubbing through the fabric.

You tried not to let your arousal show, starting to tremble under her ministrations, as she watched you with her triumphant, molten gaze.

“Lyith may have been yours first, but I won’t let him have you to himself.” She leaned forward and gently bit down on the curve of your ear. Your breath hitched and you had to keep yourself from mewling.

 “I’m yours too, you know?” She said this part gently, an earnestness made its way into your mind. It felt like how she smelled and you leaned into it. 

If you were truly a Queen now, there was no going back. Things had changed since you had bonded with Lyith. Rena was someone you treasured too. She was arrogant and sweet, and she had always been kind in the ways that mattered.

Well. What was one more anyway? You thought, closing your eyes and leaning your body into Rena’s. She let out a triumphant trill, Then slowly started dragging her impossibly long textured tongue up your neck. 

“I’m going to show you how we normally prepare a human queen.” She purred. Her arms moved to pull up your shirt as you felt the cot move under you. Lyith had moved from his spot from the end of the bed, and had situated himself behind you, his own arms curling around your hips, playing with the edges of your pants.

“While this looks very fun, I’m not the type to just sit and watch.” He sang out in a low voice. Rena huffed and rolled her eyes. But she continued to undress you, long fingers hitching around your bra and freeing your breasts. She leaned back and looked at them, purring the whole time.

Well. It looked like you were in for a long night.

Part Six (Beware NSFW)

[sewersaga]

HOPEDRUNK EVERASKING: moze, jing yuan, aventurine x reader

header art creds: nixeu on patreon! pls go support them bc this is almost exactly how i picture reader lol

pairings: foxian reader x unnamed individual (for the plot,) foxian reader x moze, foxian reader x jing yuan, foxian reader x aventurine(end game), (all separately but in the same timeline she's an old slutty fox ok)

warnings: implied sa/coerced sex, trauma tm, sexual cotent (the closest i'll EVER get to smut, too much yapping, none of the pairings except the last one are healthy so if you're a moze or jy stan idk what to tell you, no names are used on purpose but it's pretty obvious who's who, the first man is not a canon character!! read this for more context on the last few paragraphs

bee talk: this is an extension to the aforementioned fic set in @kii-nami and i’s hsr universe! (hence the mention of her gorgeous angelic lovely glorious oc alisa in the last section) i owe her my high school diploma and firstborn child

word count: 11.5k

When you were a little girl, you dreamed of a fairy tale romance.

You’d hide your face behind your books, pretending to study the various medicines and their uses so not as to fail your tutor’s harsh examinations, but your mind was worlds away. Back then, nothing was off limits, nothing too selfish, too rash, too inconceivable. 

Yes, a noble youth would indeed one day sweep you off your feet, and take you far, far away from this life filled with pressures and scorn. It was a naive little dream, but it was all yours nonetheless. 

At night, awake amongst your schoolwork and your notes, you’d imagine what such a man would be like. He had to be handsome, of course. Charming. Being rich would be a nice bonus, too.

He had to be able to make you laugh when the expectations of your family made you want to curl up in a ball and cry. And when you inevitably shattered, he’d have to be willing to piece you back together again. 

When you were a young adult, freshly graduated and bright eyed, you learned that real life romance didn’t work that way. You couldn’t just conjure up an image of your ideal suitor and expect him to materialize before you like magic. Still, your heart had an irksome little tendency to attach itself to the wrong people. 

The first one came to you, bruised and bloodied. 

Battle had wrought upon him its fair share of injuries, crimson red in various states of drying smeared upon his tanned skin. Despite his condition, the only wound you were tasked to stitch was a small gash on his chest, a few centimeters below his collarbone. 

Despite not being new anymore,  the contusions your brother assigned you to treat were nothing more than busy work for someone of your knowledge. You got the feeling he wanted to keep you as far away from the horrors of war as possible, but one didn’t need to see dying men to hear their mournful cries. 

The man winced as you stitched his laceration closed, casting his gaze somewhere behind you, fixed upon the dead and the dying that surrounded him. “Did you need more painkillers?” 

He blinked, turning back to you as if remembering your presence. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh,” You spoke softly, your hands never halting their ministrations. The wound was small enough that you were already almost done, and considering his overall condition, the pinching pain of the needle was probably the least of his worries. “You flinched, so I thought I was hurting you.”

“It’s not you,” You felt his gaze upon you, and hyper focused on your work, you refused to look into his eyes, afraid of what you might find there. “Have you ever seen a patient die?”

You stopped abruptly, his sudden inquiry leaving you sufficiently rattled. “What?” You looked up, but his attention was elsewhere, focused upon the other wounded patients in various states of agony. Realizing he wasn’t going to elaborate and meant exactly what he had asked, you sighed. “Not one of my patients, no. But in this line of work, people are always going to die.”

He laughed, and you bristled, tying off a surgeon’s knot with more force than intended. “Aren’t you too young to be speaking like that?” He craned his head to look down at you, his tail swaying slowly behind him with mild amusement. “How old are you, anyways?”

“Not much younger than you,” You replied, beginning the final stitch. “Haven’t you ever learned it’s rude to ask a woman her age?” He chuckled again, and you poked the skin of his chest. “Stay still, or I’ll never finish.”

“What if that’s what I want?” He asked, rather brazenly, and you shook your head almost subconsciously. 

“I don’t care what you want,” You tied off the final knot. “And unless you want to end up like those dead patients you care so much about, make sure to keep this clean.” You put your instruments to the side and he leaned back, letting out a sigh of relief. You realized then that despite what he had said, the process had been rather painful, if not uncomfortable at the very least. “And try to stay alive, alright?”

“Sure, sure. I look forward to seeing you again.” He stood up, stretching with a light groan despite the mangled state his body was in. You watched him limp away with mild horror as he threw you an absentminded wave. 

“You won’t.” You stated resolutely, but he was already too far down to hear you. 

He was right, of course. You saw him again on many, many different occasions. Sometimes he’d have a minor wound that just absolutely required your attention. Other times he requested a consultation with his favorite medical professional over whatever splendid meal your brother and the other cooks had prepared for dinner. The night he stole you away from the camp, you realized you’d fallen for him.

You watched him under the waning moonlight, sharing a bottle of rice liquor he’d somehow taken from the field hospital. He’d worked his way into your heart rather easily. But it wasn’t a bad thing then, your vulnerability, your propensity to fall wholly and completely.

“You’re such a liar, [Name].” Despite addressing you directly, he didn’t meet your gaze, his own fixed upon the stars. 

“What do you mean?” He took a swig of liquor. There were so many stars that night. 

“You act like you don’t give a shit,” You scoffed abruptly, snatching the bottle from his loose hold. The liquid burned your throat. You weren’t yet used to drinking, and your mind felt clouded with a heady sort of fogginess. “But you care about every single one of those patients more than anyone else.” 

“I don’t.” You shake your head, blinking away your disorientation. You stared ahead, and your head felt so heavy that your body began to lean upon him almost subconsciously. “I don’t care.”

“You’re a liar,”  He repeated, much softer. His hand cautiously wound its way upon your back to adjust you to an upright position, but found itself more comfortable around your waist. You didn’t move, nor did you complain. “It’s not a weakness, you know. Caring about people.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You spoke bitterly, but hardly above a whisper. He was so close then that you could hear every breath, feel the rising and falling of his chest. He lifted the bottle to his lips with a shaking hand. “If I care about them, and they all die, then what does that leave me with?”

“Your heart,” He was so close then. Your head felt so heavy. The stars were blurry and bright. “Your empathy. Lose that, and then there would really be nothing left of you.” 

“You have the wrong idea of me.” You were hardly aware of the way you were nuzzling yourself further into his side, conscious only of the warmth of his body, and barely of the words he spoke almost directly into your ear. 

“You can say that, but you know that I’m right,” The hand around your waist pulled you closer into himself, as if such a thing were even possible. Your vision was hazy, and every sensation felt amplified. “I like you, [Name].” You parted your lips to respond, but they were met with the mouth of the bottle that he held to your lips. You swallowed as he tilted it upwards, no longer feeling the pain of its acrid taste upon your tongue. His free hand found your chin as he set the bottle somewhere on the ground beside you, wiping a stray drop of liquor from your bottom lip. 

“I like you, too.” You said those four words for the first time, your face in his tight grip. He kissed you, tasting like rice liquor and fallen stars. 

He wasn’t anything like that imaginary lover you’d dreamed up as a little girl. Not even close. But still, you loved him, and he needed you. 

You had information he didn’t have, secrets discussed in clandestine rooms by ailing officers receiving treatment. You had a body to keep him warm at night, his grip upon you as tight as it was that night he kissed you under the stars. You gave him everything you had, even when the only thing you wanted was to be left alone.

Or, perhaps, the only thing you wanted was to be wanted. It didn’t matter, because everything soon came crumbling down, coating you in ashes and stardust. 

There was so much death, so much destruction. Had you known he was working with them you would have never—

But you had. You had unknowingly done the worst thing you could have ever done. And it was already done. They were already dead. There was nothing you could do to save them. 

So, you had no choice but to leave. Traitor, rogue, fool. All of these descriptors could be attributed to you. But they could never call you a liar, for you had never loved him with anything less than your whole heart. 

The second one appeared to pull you from the endless shadows of the abyss.

Some years after the disaster, you remained in the most desolate corners of the Yaoqing in an impromptu self imposed exile. Every night you’d lay down restlessly, tortured by the cries of the dead and damned echoing in your ears, and every morning you’d wake up with their blood between your teeth. It was an unbearable sort of existence, but every cell of your being knew that you deserved it. 

And you knew that you weren’t the one who suffered. Not really. You knew it was your cross to bear as the one responsible to live with the guilt of what you had done. Running away was selfish enough, and you found the endless punishment of remembering your misdeeds each and every day to be more than fitting. 

And thus you punished yourself, every single day. Cold river baths, freezing nights spent underneath the elements, deadly medicine trials. You’d do anything to feel a fraction of the pain and suffering you’d indirectly wrought upon others.

Yes, you’d continued to hone your skills even under such circumstances, collecting medicinal herbs and creating various antidotal elixirs in the subconscious hope that one of them would kill you.  It was a self centered, cowardly wish, but it was all yours nonetheless. 

Each night you spent in exile, those long dashed dreams of romance turned into feverish vignettes of death. It teased you, seduced you relentlessly, and each time you awoke in a cold sweat, wasting away further and further by the day. Your obsession with self deprivation quickly grew out of hand, and you hadn’t realized how sick you were becoming despite the evidence making itself known upon your person. 

One night, you danced with death itself. It held you like you were the finest treasure in the world, kissed you like you were too good to give up. Death dripped venom upon your lips, and you swallowed it like sweet ambrosia. 

And then, it disappeared into nothing, crow-feathered and equally as fleeting. 

You didn’t wake up that morning. Or the next one. Or the morning after that. 

They told you that you’d been asleep for five days. The kind folks of a small village on the fringe of the Yaoqing had diligently cared for you, patched up the wounds from your exposure to the elements and nursed you through your medicine and hypothermia induced fever. 

They didn’t know who you were, of course. News traveled slowly to this region, and to them, you were simply a weary, sick traveler in need of their aid. 

It took a while to get them to tell you how you’d ended up here in the first place. Your impromptu research “base” had been far from all facets of civilization, you’d made sure of that fact. And of course, you weren’t exactly in the state to ask many questions when you’d first woken up. 

Once your fever had finally broken, the woman caring for you became candid about the good samaritan who’d saved your life. “He was an odd gentleman. Didn’t say a single word. Dark clothing, hood over his head, ashy hair. Brought you here cradled in his arms like you were a treasure.” You weren’t sure how to respond. 

You left early the next morning while the village was asleep. The night was so quiet, and with the whispers of your deal with death at your heels, you made for the forest from whence you came.

It took an entire day to make it back to your previous spot. Whoever the man was who brought you to your caretakers had to have had either superhuman speed, strength, or both. Not to mention the gall to disappear before you could thank him properly. 

It didn’t matter. Now that you were healed, you were ready to settle into your old routine.

But you realized while collecting some herbs for an antidote that it seemed a little odd to continue your pursuit for reprieve when someone, mysterious as he may be, had put so much effort to drag you from the abyss with his bare hands. 

Almost subconsciously, you dropped the handful of plants you were holding. Your body moved on its own while your mind remained preoccupied, searching every dark corner of the area for some sort of sign. The wind obfuscated your search, rustling the leaves of the trees, and your shadow taunted you with its insistent presence as the sun set in the westward direction of that little village.

Having thoroughly run through your options, you stopped in the middle of a clearing. You noticed for the first time after your long day of travel that you were exhausted, and suspected that perhaps you hadn’t fully healed from your bout of illness. Instinctively, your gaze drifted to a patch of the herbs from earlier just a few meters away from you, the bright flowers seeming to beckon to you. You stood up, intending to heed their call. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to—

“Looking for someone?” A quiet, almost uncertain voice spoke from the farthest reaches of the clearing. You froze, lithe fingers brushing against the leathery petals of the poisonous flower. 

Frightened and suddenly hopeful, you glanced over your shoulder only to find no one there. You turned your attention back to the flowers, and the wind pummeled at your back with unknown urgency. A ghostlike tap on your shoulder, and you turned around to find him standing behind you. 

Tall, hooded, clothed in dark hues, and ashen haired, he looked exactly as the woman had described him. Despite having shown himself to you, there was an air of insecurity to him, as if he was unsure of exactly why he’d done what he did. 

Still, he tilted his head at you inquisitively, seemingly content to stay silent until you’d given him an answer. 

“Yes,” He didn’t react, continuing to stare at you in that odd, unreadable way. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” He returned your question, his gaze flickering toward the patch of foliage behind you. “And after I took you all that way to the village.” 

“It was you.” You responded incredulously rather than answer his question. “I’ve been wanting to thank you, but they say you disappeared before I even woke up.” You tilted your head at him, mirroring his actions. “Why?”

“There was no further need for my presence.” He stated bluntly, once more glancing behind you. You fidgeted with your hands behind your back like a guilty child. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh,” You were sufficiently caught off guard by his lack of willingness to allow you to skirt around the question. “Well, I thought I might have left some things back here. Medicines and such,” You unwittingly and rather tellingly gestured to the plants that seemed to be so very intriguing to him. “Just wanted to come back and check.”

“Wrong answer,” He stated matter of factly, and your eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t have much with you, but I left all your belongings and medicines with the villagers.” He blinked, his expression as unchanging as if he hadn’t completely called your bluff. “I made sure to warn them that one dose too many could kill the average Foxian.”

“How did you manage to carry me and my stuff too?” You quickly redirected the conversation, crossing your arms over your chest and sincerely hoping to distract him from discovering the real reason behind your return. 

“Simple. I have pockets.” He showed you the insides of his cloak, which were indeed outfitted with handy storage pockets. “And you aren’t exactly hard to carry.”

You reluctantly decided to continue your interrogation, much to your shared dismay.“Well, how did you find me here in the first place?” This particular question seemed to succeed in making him uncomfortable and he blinked quickly, seemingly caught off guard. “And why did you bring me there?” 

He closed his eyes momentarily, sighing resignedly. “I just happened to be passing through. You were unconscious, so I brought you to the nearest village.” He turned over his shoulder, walking back in the direction of the wooded area. “You ask too many questions.” 

“Well, thank you.” You called after him, quieter than intended. He didn’t respond.

He made it a few more steps towards the dense thicket before stopping abruptly, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to follow me?”

You hesitated. “Where?” 

“Back to the village. You’re still sick.” He stated as if his intentions were entirely obvious. You blinked, incredulous. 

You followed him back, of course, complaining and bitching. Because he was right, you were still sick. And he had to carry you most of the way there, which was rather awkward because this time you were actually conscious. 

But the main reason you allowed him to take you back to the little town was because he hadn’t properly answered your question about why he even saved you in the first place. Because there’s no way he simply stumbled upon you in the middle of a desolate forest, far from the rest of humanity, to say nothing of cell service. A part of you wondered if he just wanted someone to be indebted to him.

You weren’t sure, but you didn’t get that impression. He was blunt, but undeniably kind, stolid, but somehow charmingly awkward. And if testimony from the villagers was to be believed, he was most talkative around you and others could hardly receive even a grunt from him. 

And after profusely thanking the kind folks that had so selflessly cared for you in your hour of need, and a week’s worth of well needed rest, you felt significantly better. Of course, your physical condition was back in good shape, thanks to a superfluous amount of meals cooked by your host and devoured by you (and that man never seemed to have an appetite, if the amount of his food he tried to discreetly add onto your plate meant anything,) and you regained some common sense. 

Yes, after some time with the villagers, who were entirely content with living a simple life far out of the reaches of the Xianzhou modern conveniences, you learned three simple truths. 

The first. What use were you to anyone if you suffered until you were nothing at all? You quickly busied yourself with day to day tasks—doing laundry, helping make meals, treating the scraped knees and skinned elbows of the children—and you learned that the better state of mind you were in, the more you could do for others. And that mysterious companion of yours seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever your guilt and self-loathing began to take over, and was so good at distracting you that you didn’t even know you’d been distracted until your attention was successfully diverted. Sometimes at night, plagued by images of the horrors you’d seen unfold before you, you’d hear rustling by your bedside. Thinking you were imagining things, you’d close your eyes again, only to open them blearily and find him standing by the window, his back towards you. You didn’t know why, but the fact that he stayed with you even then made it easier to fall asleep.

The second. Isolating yourself made things impossibly worse. Your unfounded fear that everyone could smell the evil on you and would treat you like a pariah was proved false daily by the kindness of your hosts, who treated you like a member of their own family. And even when the villagers left you alone, that crow feathered weirdo remained stuck to you like your shadow. As annoying as it may have been at first, it kept you away from your own thoughts, even if you were just sitting in comfortable silence. 

“Do you ever even sleep?” You asked one night across the still darkness, his back turned to you as he gazed out of the small window at nothing in particular.

“I don’t need to.” He didn’t turn around, but you knew you still had his full attention.

“Everyone needs sleep.” You teased lightly, tiredly.

He sighed. “Let me rephrase that. You need to sleep more than I do.” 

“I think I’ve done enough sleeping,” He didn’t respond, but you caught him glancing over his shoulder at your form in the small makeshift bed, sitting upright amongst the pillows. “Do you want to sit with me?” You weren’t entirely sure what possessed you to ask. You were even less sure what possessed him to agree, fixing you with an uneasy stare before awkwardly sitting beside you on the pallet.

You stayed up the entire night talking. Or, rather surprisingly, he did most of the talking. Neither of you discussed anything important, but his calm company was soothing, and as he spoke quietly of ordinary things, you found yourself closing the distance between the two of you. You moved gently, slowly, and at the same pace he unstiffened, allowing you to rest your head upon his shoulder.

You fell asleep like that sometime during the early hours of the morning. And perhaps you were dreaming, but you swore you felt a gentle hand stroking your hair as you drifted off.

And thus, the third truth was the most frightening. A part of your heart had attached itself to that man, for as eccentric as he was, he never left your side. At first, you attributed your feelings to the sole fact of him having saved your life, but as the days crawled on, that irksome flutter in your chest persisted. And the more time you spent with him, the more he began to talk, and the more you began to listen. You were never any good at that before. But with him, it came as naturally as breathing.

The first time you kissed him, he melted into you.

He had been laying beside you on the pallet, having become more comfortable with the casual intimacy and reassurance the two of you shared. Your faces were close, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breathing fanning across your face, how it quickened when you brought a gentle hand to the cut of his jaw. You spoke his name softly, and it seemed like he stopped breathing completely. “Thank you.” You whispered across the pillow. Then, you pressed your lips gently to his. 

Yes, he melted into you like it was something he was waiting for his entire life. And perhaps it was, because his existence seemed like a terribly lonely one. And every time he shut his mouth for fear no one would listen to a word he had to say, the piece of your heart he carried with him wrenched in his hand. 

He held you so tightly that the both of you feared if he let go you’d shatter. You were the first to relinquish your grip.

You left the village after a nondescript period of time, preemptively mourning the loss of the simple life shared with its inhabitants and your unorthodox benefactor. You’d all mutually decided it was the best decision for you, and although your next destination was as of yet unknown, you found yourself caring for the implications of the future less and less. 

It wasn’t out of a sense of nihility, though. In fact, it was quite the opposite, for that man who stayed by your side day in and day out had managed to possess your thoughts enough that you were unable to think of a future that didn’t have him in it. 

So, you traveled, sticking vehemently to the fringe towns on the outskirts of the Yaoqing where whispers of the current events of the more inhabited areas were few and far between. You slept beside him in their various inns or in the houses of generous townspeople, his watch by the window relinquished for an insistent focus on the way you breathed while you slept. 

You didn’t really know your way around your homeland, having only left the city on the grounds of your self banishment. So he led the way, sometimes carrying you, always holding your hand as you forged an unknown path with no destination in particular.

At least, that was the impression he had you under. 

“Looks like we’re getting closer to civilization.” You commented offhandedly, having just checked out of a month’s long stay at a riverside inn. The place had been lovely, and you relinquished your cold baths for warm soaks in the hot springs (which had taken an insurmountable amount of convincing for him to join you, which he only did when you reminded him that you had already seen him naked, a fact that left him sufficiently flustered.) 

He simply grunted in response, and you furrowed your eyebrows, for he usually was more than willing to entertain even your most frivolous remarks. Yes, something was different that day, and he’d hardly spoken a word to you despite maintaining a loose hold on your smaller hand. “Am I allowed to ask where you’re taking me?”

He didn’t answer. Your stomach twisted as you came to a horrifying realization. How stupid you’d been to not realize—

“We’re heading towards the city, aren’t we?” Thinking aloud, your words were less of a question, and more of a conclusion. He stopped abruptly, lowering his head. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I didn’t know how,” He spoke almost shamefully, his gaze still fixed upon the earth. “You know it’s what’s best.”

You dropped his hand, betrayed now that he had finally confirmed your suspicions. “I don’t know that. You know I’m never going back there. Who sent you? I should’ve known that they would do this.“

“[Name],”  He turned to face you. You didn’t say anything. The wind rustled through the trees. He sighed. “It was General Feixiao. She—“

“General? So she’s a general now?” It was your turn to cut him off,  scoffing bitterly with your venom tipped canines on display. “A promotion or two, and she’s sending her crows to take me back there. I should’ve known.”

“I don’t know what you think you know, but you’ve got it all wrong.” He almost looked hurt, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All of this to bring you back to the place you never wanted to see again, and to think you’d fallen in love with him—

How foolish you’d been. How idiotic for you to have been led astray by that wind that rustles feathers and claims naive hearts. 

Dusk approached. Your shadows lengthened. “I’m leaving.”

“If that’s what you want, then I can’t stop you.” He spoke, sounding bereaved. You wondered if he knew he still held your heart in his hands, the pumping blood cascading through his lithe fingers. 

“It is.” Perhaps you were a liar, for you knew what you wanted at that moment, and it wasn’t to leave him here, hope-drunk and silently begging you to stay. 

And it was your duty to deny yourself of the things you desired. 

You walked back into the direction of the woods as the sun set, the abyss claiming you once more. Your dreams dissipated like shadowy wisps as he left for the city, taking a piece of you with him.

And you left, as you’d promised to do, for you’d never lie to him the way he had to you. Not ever.

The third one offered you wisdom in a golden chalice, and you drank it gratefully, the warm wine burning your tongue as it slid down your throat.

The Xianzhou Luofu was positively the last place you’d ever expect to end up following your retreat back into the darkness. But alas, you had concluded that as long as you stayed on the Yaoqing, there’d always be someone trying to drag you back from whence you came. And you weren’t going back there, not ever. 

Getting there was the first challenge. Luckily, some of that man’s directional expertise had rubbed off on you, and you managed to head due south, following directions from the inhabitants of the places you stopped along the way until you made it to a smaller port city. 

When you smuggled yourself amongst the cargo on an unattended ship— something that would likely be next to impossible these days, you suppose— you had no idea where the vessel’s final destination was to be. You could’ve ended up on an entirely different planet for all you knew, and you didn’t care. The only thing you knew for certain was that you had to go, and it didn’t matter to you where. 

And you’d definitely underestimated the difficulty of the trip. You thought after traversing almost the entire perimeter of the Yaoqing, you could handle anything, and frankly, you had incorrectly concluded that you were small enough to hide comfortably on the cargo ship. 

You’d been terribly wrong. And funnily enough, you also failed to consider what would happen if the ship wasn’t as unattended as it had been once it finally arrived to its recipients. Luckily, it wasn’t a very long trip, but it was long enough to bring that thought— along with a sense of insurmountable dread— to mind.

And how incredibly stupid of you it had been to fall asleep halfway through the ride. 

You were shaken awake an unknown amount of time later by an uncomfortable prodding. You sat up straight, fluffy ears standing at attention. You rose fast enough to hit your head on a nearby crate, and looked through hazy eyes at a pair of Cloud Knights, one staring at you with alarm, the other seeming amused. “This piece of cargo wasn’t on the shipment list.” The latter sheathed his sword, the hilt of which must have been that mysterious poking that had woken you from your deep sleep.

You blinked the shock away, recovering as fast as humanly possible. “Double check that list. You must not be looking close enough,” You deadpanned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, stretching out your legs. “Gonna tell on me?”

His companion spoke, a hand resting nervously on the hilt of his own blade. “We’re required by nature of our job description–”

“I don’t give a fuck about your ‘job,’” You groaned, standing up, brushing the dust and cobwebs from the peachy fur of your tail. “Are you turning me in to your boss or not?”

The nervous, younger looking Knight turned to his companion for an answer, who shrugged in response. He turned back to you, and despite the bite to your voice, you realized you likely looked thoroughly disheveled and even more exhausted despite your little cat nap. In fact, if you could see his face, he likely would be looking at you with unadulterated pity. “Zhi Peng, look at her. We can’t just…”

“Haitao. Zhi Peng,” A deep, coarse voice sounded from the distance. Both knights startled, sharing a brief glance that remained unreadable behind their helmets. “What’s so interesting over here?” The man known as Haitao cursed under his breath. Zhi Peng looked like he was about to wet himself. 

“What do we do?” You whispered, but neither man responded verbally, and while Haitao shifted to cover your smaller form, Zhi Peng remained frozen in place, horrified. “Is that your supervisor or something?” 

Haitao simply nodded. “What are you two doing?” The supervisor called, and his voice sounded closer. 

Your eyes widened with fear. Haitao cursed again. “Just stay quiet.” 

“Zhi Peng, tell me immediately what is happening?” The supervisor hissed, and you heard the meek knight in question let out a strangled cry that sounded oddly like he had been grabbed by the breastplate of his uniform. 

“The cargo. There’s a stowaway in the cargo.” Zhi Peng managed through a choked voice, and there was a thud as he was released upon the ground. You scoffed quietly, your sharp canines digging into your bottom lip. Didn’t take the fucker much pressure to cave in, did it? Although you did feel bad that he’d been tossed around on your behalf. 

“Haitao. Is this true?” The knight who had you trapped beneath his form glanced once more at you, and then at his officer.

Then, he grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, shifting to reveal your presence. “Yup. Found this little fox hiding amongst the military shipments.” 

“Mother fucker.” You hissed. His grip on your arm tightened as he dragged you in the direction of the disembodied voice that you’d heard earlier, which belonged to an even larger man in a slightly different uniform. Just your luck to get discovered by the most spineless little grunts out there. You couldn’t have been captured by an officer, or even a general?

The larger man scrutinized you, his shielded gaze lingering upon you for longer than you were comfortable with. “I know who this is.” 

You blinked. “That isn’t possible.”

“Yes, it is. You’re the nurse that deserted the Yaoqing army all those years ago,” You froze. So he did, indeed, know who you were. Again, just your fucking luck. “We keep close military contact with our allies.” 

“I prefer ‘medic,’” You deflected, shooting Haitao the nastiest look you could muster as you attempted to wrench free of his grip. “Even ‘practitioner' is acceptable.” The man refused to relent, and you let out a noise akin to a snarl as your bicep began to burn.

“I don’t care what you are,” The officer brushed you off as easily as swatting a fly, and your eyebrows furrowed with further annoyance at being treated so trivially. “Do you two remember your orders for a fugitive situation?” He addressed his two underlings, who vehemently nodded with a chorus of yes sir’s.

“Fugitive situation?” You protested, unable to ignore the way Zhi Peng flanked the unoccupied side of your body. “That’s not what this is.” The other soldier grabbed your other arm, although significantly gentler than his companion. 

Ignoring your objections, the officer continued to deliver orders to his men, who began to march you behind him as you headed somewhere entirely unbeknownst to you. 

You asked quite a few questions on the way there. Where are you taking me? Am I going to jail? Will there be a bathroom? Are you sending me back to the Yaoqing? I’m hungry. Although the last of which was more of a statement. 

The point being that none of your objections nor your questions received competent answers. And the moment you reached an area you would later learn to be called the Exalting Sanctum, the soldiers on the other side of you promptly let go of your arms. Before you could even massage the pain of their grasp away, their officer had grabbed you again. “You two are dismissed. The General will know what to do with her.” 

The knights bowed respectfully to their supervisor before departing, both sparing you a second glance over their shoulders, one you met with a look that hopefully conveyed just how much you despised them. Once they were out of earshot, the larger man grabbed you by the back of the neck. “Now listen here,” You yelped as he leaned down, his gruff voice directly in your ear. “The General has requested you be brought directly to him for whatever reason. I personally couldn’t give less of a shit what happens to a traitor like you, but clearly he finds you useful in some way,” You were unable to control the tear that spilled from your watery eyes at the pain of his large hand tightening around your neck. “So you better not fuck this up for yourself, alright?” 

You didn’t move, warm teardrops streaming down your ruddy cheeks. Realizing he wasn’t going to relinquish you until you responded in some way, you nodded, with quite a degree of difficulty considering his hand was still indeed wrapped around your neck. He released you, and you fell to the ground, coughing. He didn’t wait for you to catch your breath before taking you inside.

“General,” He led you up the carpeted stairs in the General’s office, the deep red color suddenly foreboding as the man’s words echoed in your mind. What use could the General of the Luofu possibly have for you if not to punish you for your desertion? You were so stupid, in fact, in a lifetime of stupid decisions, this was by far the stupidest thing you could’ve ever done— “I’ve brought the Yaoqing’s fugitive.”

The Cloud Knights stationed along the landing of the stairs didn’t spare you a passing glance as you approached the General’s desk. The man let go of you, instead shoving you in his direction before bowing chastely. “I know it’s been a while since we discussed the protocol for her discovery, so I thought I’d bring her here for you to decide what to do with her.”

White haired, long-lashed and heavy-eyed, the General regarded the man before him with complete disinterest. “Thank you,” His gaze landed upon you, the sorry state you must have been in, and his serene expression faltered momentarily. “But, please, remind me where in the protocol it states that it’s acceptable to treat a woman so barbarically,” Slowly, tiredly, he rose from his desk, approaching you where you stood shakily upon your sore feet. “It’s deplorable.” 

For the first time, your impromptu captor was speechless. “Sir, I…”

“No explanation is needed. You can expect further disciplinary notice in the next few days.” The General refused to even meet his eye, his attention instead focused concernedly upon you. “You are dismissed.” 

He didn’t say anything to you immediately upon the other man’s departure, still scrutinizing your visible condition— the bruises on your arms from the Cloud Knights, the dirt and dust still clinging to your clothes from the cargo ship— and you sighed. “Am I under arrest, General?”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “Not at all.”

“Then what’s my punishment?” You shrugged, shifting your weight. “You know, for treason.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, and for some reason you got the feeling that you two were each having completely different conversations. He gestured to the chair behind his desk. “Have a seat.” 

“That’s your chair.” You raised an eyebrow, and he simply nodded in confirmation. Realizing he wasn’t going to continue until you sat down, you sighed, doing what you were told. Your feet were killing you from being cramped up for so long, anyways.

Once you had made yourself comfortable, he began to speak. “You’re not under arrest, nor are you receiving any punishment.” 

“Then why did you request for me to be brought here immediately upon my capture?” You fiddled anxiously with the fabric of your clothes, anticipating his response. “With all due respect, General, sir, it’s a bit confusing.”

He stared at you for a moment, unreadable, before suddenly bursting out into boisterous laughter. “Ah, it is, isn’t it?” Your mouth fell open, surprised by his swift change in demeanor, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Allow me to explain. I’m well aware of your talent as a medical practitioner. And considering that you currently owe a debt to the Xianzhou Alliance’s military, well…” He gently rested his palms upon the desk, leaning over you in a way that was more expectant than imposing. “We’d like you to work with our branch of the Alchemy Commission.” 

“Me? Work for the Alchemy Commission? That’s all?” You were unable to suppress the breathless, incredulous laugh that escaped your lips. “Forgive me, sir, but that’s a rather light punishment.” 

“I already said you weren’t being punished.” He raised an eyebrow, simultaneously amused and concerned. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know. But there’s one thing I don’t want.” You bit your lip, considering the possible ramifications of telling him exactly how to torture you most effectively. “If you don’t intend to punish me, then don’t send me back there.” 

“Right. You were rather lucky to end up here, aren’t you?” He chuckled once more, and who knew the Luofu's General was so good-natured? You supposed a man like that needed some entertainment to liven up his day. But it wasn’t going to be you. 

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” You scoffed bitterly, absentmindedly moving your hair from behind your shoulders. You saw his eyes widen in shock, and realized with embarrassment that your subconscious movement had exposed to him the bruise that the brute of an officer had left from his grasp upon your neck. “Oh. Ignore that. That officer of yours got a bit too handsy.” You shrugged, despite the tears you’d swallowed down after the initial incident threatening to rise back up in your throat. 

“That seems to be putting it rather lightly, don’t you think?” His good mood was effectively dashed, his worried gaze fixed upon your neck. Suddenly self conscious, you moved your hair to cover it once more. “And rest assured, after his behavior today, he is no longer any officer of mine. That isn’t how my men operate.”

You scoffed, recalling the behavior of the low ranking Cloud Knights before you’d even met the officer. “If you sincerely believe that, you don’t know your men at all.” You gasped sharply upon realizing the ramifications of your words, quickly backtracking. “Forgive me, that was incredibly disrespectful. And I’m already in this position—” 

“It’s alright. I suppose I do have some more work to do on the ground as opposed to sitting up in this stuffy old office all the time.” He sighed, offering you a small, reassuring smile. 

“Sir, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place is beautiful.” You gestured to your comparatively luxurious surroundings.  “Not exactly what I’d call ‘stuffy.’” Anything beats that dusty shipment container. 

“Anywhere can become stifling if you spend enough time there. Beauty has nothing to do with it. I’m sure you know that just as well as I do.” He laughed awkwardly, almost self-deprecating. “Ah, look at me, rambling on again. I’ll alert your supervisor at the Commission of your arrival. Your lodgings will be arranged at a nearby inn, so go wash up and get a good night’s sleep.” He reached for a spare piece of paper that rested upon the surface of his desk, quickly scrawling the name of the inn for your reference.  “Your work begins at sunrise tomorrow.” 

You gingerly took the paper from him, folding it gently before sliding it protectively into the pocket of your shorts. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such generosity, but thank you. Sincerely.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. You’ll pay off your debt soon enough.” He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. Neither of you moved. As if realizing the impropriety of his actions, he quickly retracted his arm, instead offering you a small nod.  “Go.”

You rose from your— his — chair and made for the exit, already envisioning the hot shower and warm inn-cooked meal you were going to have. Suddenly remembering the constraints of respect, you froze halfway down the stairs, turning to offer the General a stiff, clumsy bow. 

You left with his almost-fond chuckle at your heels, intending to scrub the remains of your idiocy from your skin. 

The Luofu branch of the Alchemy Commission was significantly different from the one back home. Although the work hours were just as insane, its employees genuinely enjoyed their jobs, if your master was anything to go off of. 

Dark brown haired with cutely pointed ears and deep ruby eyes, Lingsha was incredibly skilled, and just as well-composed. She smelled lovely, too, a fact you noted as she showed you where each of the supplies were located.  As she explained the rules with which the Luofu’s branch operated, you found your mind wandering elsewhere, wondering what kind of woman you’d be if only you had a calm spirit, to say nothing of impulse control. 

“I diagnose ailments a bit differently. I’m sure you’re familiar with aromatic therapy?” Lingsha spoke as she stood before a presently empty cauldron. A nice, herbal scent lingered around it, and you concluded that she had to smell so nice from working around aromatics every day. 

“Yes, we use it quite a bit on the Yaoqing. I’m definitely not as skilled as you are, though.” Your intentions on your first day were to emphasize your competency without seeming too confident. The last thing you wanted was for your new boss to think you were trying to outshine her in any way.

“Anyone can learn, and you already have the background, so don’t worry about that.” Lingsha had mercifully not seemed to glean that impression from you, treating you with kindness despite you really only being there to work off a debt wrought by your own stupidity. “I can’t teach you how to utilize the cauldron, though.”

You nodded, offering her a small, grateful smile. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” 

Despite your feigned eagerness to get on the job, she tried to breach a different, non-work related subject with you come lunch break. “You know, I once traveled far from home too.”

Unimpressed, you chewed your braised pork. “Really?”

“I followed my master when she was banished. It was quite jarring at first, but I learned so much and improved my craft.” She picked at her food with her chopsticks, seeming to favor attempting to connect with you over shared circumstances more than eating. 

“I see.” You, on the other hand, did not much enjoy having your meal interrupted by useless talking, no matter how good the intentions behind it may be. 

She sighed, noticing your unwillingness to converse. “All of this to say, I understand how you feel.”

Do you? You found yourself wondering, almost shamefully, for the woman’s intentions were clearly to make you feel more comfortable working away from home. But being young and irrational, you couldn’t help but believe your situation was undeniably unique. 

Of course, it wasn’t, nor were your experiences anything special. And realizing this, you kept your mouth shut, simply nodding in respectful acknowledgment of her statement. 

You finished the rest of your lunch in silence, your new mentor finally recognizing that you weren’t quite in the mood for conversation. You did, however, catch her sending a few fleeting glances your way, sometimes concerned, sometimes curious. 

The first day of your impromptu apprenticeship ended with barely any further words exchanged between the two of you. You parted ways with a few polite goodbyes, and you beelined for the closest restaurant with a myriad of conflicting thoughts swarming your mind. 

And the work did get significantly more bearable the longer you did it. Even the early mornings were alright, considering you had to get up in the wee hours of the morning back as a medic for the Yaoqing. Not to mention, with the minor ailments being the only ones Lingsha initially sent your way, you felt like you were back at the army hospital with your brother stifling you beneath his scrutinizing glare. It was all rather banal.

You weren’t the only one bored almost to death by day to day work, however.

The first time the General stopped by your office for a check up, you were on your best behavior. Convinced he was only there to observe your progress, you prepared to conduct a thorough examination  that addressed all of his concerns. 

“So, you’re telling me you’re experiencing extreme drowsiness.” You read from your notes, taking this far more seriously than you should’ve. He was indeed a patient, after all, and an important one at that. Even if he was just bullshitting you, you were under a medical obligation to heed his concerns. 

“Yes, doctor. My eyes are simply too heavy to hold open.” He spoke dramatically, although you got the sense he was holding back a laugh. 

“I’m not a doctor,” You simply stared, incredulous. “And there’s not much I can do for you in that regard. I can make you some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely,” He smiled up at you, although even with him being seated you were nearly at eye level.  “Come to think of it, I have the most wonderful tea set at the Seat of Divine Foresight.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit of a walk from here, don’t you think?”

“If you don’t want to travel all that way, I can bring it here.” He rose from the chair, towering over you once more as he made for the door. 

“Oh, you wanted me to drink the tea with you?” You began to follow him, and he sent you a mirthful glance over his shoulder. 

“You were the one who suggested it after all.” He noted, almost offhandedly, and you paused to consider the offer. 

“Well, I suppose I could take a lunch break right about now.” You also supposed that he’d never intended to leave the clinic without you, anyways. 

Agreeing to let him steal you away from your duties was a mistake. Because one lunch break became two, which became three, which became entire shifts once you realized Lingsha could easily handle the steady trickle of patients herself, and the General would always provide her an excuse for your absence— however ridiculous it may be. 

You met with him a few times outside of those sleepy afternoon hours, too. Once he realized your passion for fine Luofu cuisine, and having an impressive appetite of his own,  he took you to all of the best spots, and watched you fondly as you inhaled your meals. You’d share drinks afterwards, and without fail, he’d walk you back to the inn, sometimes with a gentlemanly hand hovering over your back so your tipsiness didn’t get the better of you on those tricky stairs.

And that was all it was, communion, camaraderie. Until the night you invited Lingsha along for dinner and drinks by way of apology for shirking your duties. 

You had far more of that familiar rice wine than usual, likely due to anxiety that the woman in question hated you for your truancy. After a few shots, you were limber and loose, your inside thoughts spilling from your tongue as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

The General, despite his size and tendency to be able to hold his liquor, seemed a bit more far gone than usual, too, if the way he laughed and spoke quite louder than usual in response to your jabbering was anything to go off. Lingsha, in contrast, drank slowly, mindfully, sipping at her beverage while eyeing the two of you with a mix of concern and amusement. 

And neither of you really noticed when she gracefully ducked out, citing her early shift in the morning as her reason for departure. Your witty banter continued, your knee brushing his beneath the table, his much larger hand resting atop yours on the wooden surface. 

You kept drinking, of course. And things progressed. Very quickly. And you were, as always, horribly stupid. 

You remember him paying the bill, taking your hand as you stood up, swaying on your feet. The night was humid and starless, the condensation in the air contributing to the haze in your mind. He had a loose arm wrapped around your waist as you started in the direction of the inn. 

You remember, rather boldly, asking instead for a tour of his place. You remember him agreeing. 

His house was quite spacious. You stumbled past the entrance and he caught you, laughing intoxicatedly. You didn’t make it past the kitchen before he had you leaned up against the counters, his face centimeters away from your own. He was saying something, but your brain wasn’t registering. Rather than responding, or even asking him to repeat himself, you raised up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

Yes, things did progress rather quickly from there.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t remember— or enjoy — anything you partook in. In fact, you recall being rather entrenched in bliss as he had you pinned beneath him, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips to pull him impossibly closer. Your long nails clawed at the skin of his back and you were too far gone to tell him it was too much, or not enough, you weren’t really sure. Whatever the sensation was, it was incredible, your toes curling as he mouthed at the sensitive skin at the junction of your neck, a deft hand sliding between your bodies to push you over the edge. 

It was too much. And it wasn’t enough.

You woke up the next morning, somehow satisfied, moderately hungover, your face having been buried in his broad chest. Naturally, he was still fast asleep,  breathing serenely beneath you as long lashes brushed against his cheeks. 

And naturally, you sat up, oriented yourself, dressed, and left. 

It wasn’t anything you’d ever done before; slept with someone you cared about and left without another word. But you had a feeling it was the only way to do this without ripping yourself apart again, without leaving a piece of yourself behind beneath his once-pristine sheets.

And despite the way every single thing between the two of you had been turned on its side after a single night, you found yourself sitting behind his desk once more during your lunch break as he smiled down at you, gaze lingering on the poorly concealed marks just above the neckline of your shirt. You tugged it upwards as you’d been doing all day, but it was no use, for he leaned down to kiss you as if there weren’t numerous guards stationed around the entrance.

And you let him, like that’s how it was between the two of you all along.  

Which was to say that those breathless nights spent at his place after work became a frequent occurrence. And when you’d show up early to work the next morning, half asleep and abnormally chipper, Lingsha would only raise a suspicious eyebrow before telling you to rewash your hands and get to work. 

“I’ve always been quite curious if a Foxian’s sense of smell is as refined as mine.” Your mentor commented offhandedly after the two of you had just seen off a young Foxian patient who was experiencing abnormal tail shedding. Lingsha had performed some aromatherapy and sent the poor girl home with some oils to apply to the area on a strict regimen. 

You shrugged, your fingers absentmindedly and protectively rubbing through the silken fur of your own tail. “I wouldn’t say ‘as refined,’ but I’ve certainly got a good nose.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, peeling off her gloves. “Really? So can you detect the scent of other people on yourself?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as your hands continued working through your fur, unsure of the relevance behind her line of questioning. “Sometimes.”

“So, you must be well aware that you smell entirely of the General.” Your ministrations froze.

 You turned slowly to face her, only to see her expression as unchanged as before, examining her pristine cuticles as if what she’d said was the most normal thing in the world.  “I’m sorry?” 

“It’s not an unpleasant smell, it’s just so overbearing that your scent is layered all the way at the bottom.” She diverted her attention elsewhere, assuming an air of nonchalance as she began to rearrange her bottles of scented oil.  “What did you do, roll around in his bed or something?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, only to close it once more. “...No comment.”

“Aeons above. There’s my answer.” Lingsha groaned, setting a glass vial down with slightly more force than was necessary. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” You responded coyly, the embarrassment giving way to an unfamiliar yet deep seated urge to make her even more uncomfortable as a twisted form of deflection.. 

“That’s not entirely true. I want some answers.” 

And boy, did you answer her many, many questions. In fact, the remainder of your lunch hour was spent detailing the progression of the affair between you and the General. You were mildly disappointed that you missed out on spending the time with him, but you figured you could make it up to him in a rather meaningful way later that evening. 

Besides, the look on Lingsha’s face as you spoke— an amalgamation of shock, incredulity, and curiosity— was well worth it. And if the woman didn’t trust you before, she sure did now that you took the time to describe your sex life in intricate detail— in response to her insistent prompting, of course.

You met up with him that evening. And the next. And the one after that. And despite your habit of slipping out in the early hours of the morning like a creature of the night, you stuck around one morning. 

It was the dawn of your weekly day off, and you were positively exhausted from work and a myriad of other, irrelevant things, no thanks to the man who slept soundly beneath you. And even though you’d slept well enough yourself, you couldn’t help but feel restless as your cheek rested against the bare skin of his chest. 

You knew this was casual. It didn’t mean anything. Both of you understood that. But as you watched him sleep, your thumb absentmindedly tracing the mark beneath his eye, something familiar stirred in your chest. You didn’t want to leave. 

The feeling persisted as you ate breakfast with him, neither of you acknowledging just how far from the norm this was. It intensified as you stepped into the shower beside him, unwilling to leave each other alone for even half a system hour. It threatened to swallow you whole when he brushed your hair, large fingers raking through the damp strands as you leaned into his touch, horribly infatuated by the whole situation. When he kissed you in the pavilion after you walked him to work, you felt like you were drowning. 

What a stupid woman you were, you thought as you sat on the arm of his chair, his free hand wrapped around your waist as he pretended to focus on whatever dull paperwork sat on his desk. When the Master Diviner walked in, his grip tightened despite the look of unadulterated distaste she sent your way. “I had something important to discuss with you, General, but it seems you’re presently occupied.” Her words were dripping with acrimony, but you were too far beneath the waves to care. 

He hummed without sparing a glance towards the small woman. “Yes, I am presently inundated with paperwork,” His large palm slid further downwards, digging into your hip behind the desk. “If it can wait, we can discuss whatever it is at a later time.” 

The woman blinked, inhaling sharply at the shameless display before her. “Fine. I’ll come back at a much, much later time.” The General’s gaze remained fixed on the paper despite his attention clearly being elsewhere, if the hand caressing your backside said anything. “Or never.” Fu Xuan muttered to herself as she left, likely wishing to take her brain out and wipe it clean of the last five minutes. 

The more he made it clear he didn’t care who knew what existed between the two of you, if anything, the more you fixated on it until it was all you could think about. You’d been burned once, twice, by relationships wrought by your own selfless devotion, and you’d fallen into this one while caught in the throes of your own greed. So perhaps, it had to be a sign that this could work? 

And no matter how hard you tried, you could not stop yourself from craving his complete affections, in sharing every aspect of your life with him. Even though he was so often unreadable, you knew deep down that a part of you had stuck with him. You only prayed it was significant enough to last. 

One night, you held his face in your hands as you straddled his abdomen, and despite holding some of the control, you let him take everything from you that you had to give. When the both of you were thoroughly satisfied, he kissed you like you were his, and in all ways but one, you were. 

Your mouth didn’t give either of you much time to bask in the afterglow, for the moment you’d shifted to untangle yourself with him, it spoke without your common sense’s consent. “I’ve been thinking.” Perhaps this was a bad time, but you supposed there never was an ideal one for these sorts of conversations. At least you’d waited until he wasn’t inside you any longer. 

“Have you?” He said, his voice still low and rumbling in a way that made you shift uncomfortably atop him. “What about, my dear?” He pulled you down so your chest was flush against his, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your temple. 

You let out a quick gasp, trying to disguise the way his affection had left you reeling. “Us.” 

“What’s there to think about?” He responded good-naturedly, teasingly tugging at your tail.“We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but…” He clearly hadn’t yet grasped the seriousness of your train of thought, for his wandering hand abandoned the fur of your tail to grab a handful of your backside.  “Hey.” You warned, swatting it away as he laughed, unashamed.  “I guess I should start by asking this. What do you want from me?”

He blinked, his expression sobering as he finally caught your drift. “Whatever you’re willing to give.”

You scoffed. Despite your heart hoping otherwise, you should’ve known he’d dance his way around your questioning, ever-skilled at circumlocution.. “That’s a cop out.”

“I still don’t understand what you’re asking.” He clarified gently, his hands rubbing soothingly up your sides. Your annoyance deflated significantly, your body welcoming his touch. 

“Fine. I’m asking if you want me to be your girlfriend. Partner. Whatever you want to call it.” His hands halted their ministrations as he looked up at you, his expression indecipherable. 

“Where is this coming from?” He spoke after a beat had passed, tilting his head at you with what seemed like genuine confusion. Whatever it was angered you, because if he really had no idea what you were talking about, he must have been fucking you with his eyes closed. Because it was clear as day to the Cloud Knights, Lingsha, Fu Xuan, everyone who saw the two of you together, what was happening. 

“The fuck do you mean, ‘where is this coming from?’” Your annoyance morphed into a sense of betrayal, spilling from your mouth like murderous venom. “You take me out to dinner multiple times a week, I sit in your office all day like your little pet, I practically live at your house.” Then, the betrayal melted away to hurt.  “And still, I can’t tell exactly how you feel about me. That’s where it’s coming from.” Your sentence ended far softer, far more vulnerable than you intended it to. 

And he noticed, for a large palm came to cup your cheek in his hand, ready to wipe away the angry tears that threatened to fall. “[Name]—“

You pushed his hand away. “Answer my question,” You intertwined the hand you’d used to reject his touch with his own, still unable to part from him no matter how obstinate you felt he was being.  “We can take things slow if that’s what you want. No labels, or anything. I just need to know how you feel.”

You’d barely finished your sentence before he pulled you down to kiss him, slow and sweet. “I thought it was abundantly clear how I felt about you,” He spoke almost against your lips, your fingers still laced together, pushed up against the headboard. “You’re an incredible woman, [Name]. Witty, headstrong, beautiful,” His free hand brushed your bangs away from your face, coming to rest once more on your cheek.“But I cannot give you that which you desire.”

You hesitated, blinking confusedly at him.“What do you mean?”

“You know what you want, a trait that is inexorably admirable,” He paused, his gaze flickering away from your own to collect his thoughts. “But I know who I am, and it won’t be any good for you.”

Another cop out. Your canines dug into your bottom lip as you felt the pressure of your returning tears behind your eyelids. “You’re not being truthful.”

“I am.  I only want the best for you.” So that was how it was. Fine. You weren’t going to embarrass yourself any further by crying in front of him. You had lost so much in that moment, but you couldn’t let go of your fragile pride.

“I think I should go.” You dropped his hand, leaning back upon his thighs. 

He swallowed, looking reluctantly away from your watery eyes. “Perhaps that may be what’s best.”

You left that time, defeated and embarrassingly heartbroken. But it didn’t stop you from going back to him quite a few times, somehow convinced that what you desired deep down would change. But never once did you expect him to mold himself to your expectations, shouldering the blame for the failed relationship all upon yourself.

You were foolish then. For believing you could ever rid yourself of the desire to be loved wholly and completely. For believing you could change yourself rather than choose a different man to love. For suppressing your own heart beneath layers of impenetrable armor.

He taught you many things about yourself, rather inadvertently. You learned you could be alright on your own. You learned that love and sex were a gamble, a way to gain leverage on others without revealing the vulnerability that lay within your own losing hand. And you learned to stop denying yourself of the superficial little things you wanted, because you’d concluded that your heart’s deepest desire could never be fulfilled.

These lessons were incredibly valuable, and you held them close to your heart even as you sat aboard the mysterious Astral Express, gazing out the window at the vastness of the universe with your palms laying defeated in your lap. 

The fourth one took you entirely off guard, two lightning strikes in an open field, an asteroid upon a barren planet, a winning ticket out of a million losses. The chances of finding him in this life were astronomically low. But he was miraculously, blessedly lucky. 

Alisa would know more about this than I do. That is the thought that always crosses your mind in situations like these, when you watch him on the rare nights he sleeps peacefully, and something in your chest overwhelms you so much you fear you might die in his arms. You’d spent ages telling yourself you were never meant for love, and that little girl’s dreams of a fairy tale romance were never yours. But here you are, not only deeply enamored, but literally engaged, evidenced by that bewilderingly expensive gemstone on your ring finger. 

You can’t help but feel like you’d experienced everything in your life just for this terribly mundane moment, if not just for the way he looks fast asleep.

And perhaps you know more about love than you care to admit, for you’d proven your past self wrong on several occasions. You were alright on your own, sure, but you are far better with him by your side. Maybe you’d gambled your way into his heart, but your vulnerability is no longer a weakness. And now that you have the one thing you’d always desired, everything else is background noise. 

He means everything to you, you realized then. He is your heart, your ultimate weakness, your one in a million. You couldn’t leave this time, for there is nowhere else to go. 

You rotate the gold band on your finger absentmindedly, curling yourself even further into his body. He subconsciously pulls you closer, and you hide your face in his chest, smiling fondly to yourself. You hope he knows he’s stuck with you forever now. This love is blessedly and irrevocably yours. 

[heaven4lostgirls]

prompt: more @moonkillermicrofic wc: 541

“Barty, Yes.”

“Barty, No.”

“Yes!”

“No!”

Their argument is drawing attention, wixen alike all turning to see what commotion has been made inside Honeydukes.

Remus refuses to make eye contact with anyone other than the green haired Slytherin in front of him.

Aforementioned green haired Slytherin stands with his hands filled with assorted chocolates and sweets alike with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“We don’t need them!” Remus pleads, eyes widening in what he hopes is satisfactory enough to be called a ‘kicked puppy’ expression.

“You don’t get to decide that!” Barty replies cheerfully, grabbing more of Remus’ favourite sweets and chocolates and making his way to the till.

Remus trods after him, dragging his feet and resisting the urge to whine about how unfair the situation is.

It’s not that Remus is ashamed of the fact that he comes from significantly less money, it’s more-so the principle of the argument.

Remus isn’t used to handouts or being spoilt, and he doesn’t think he’ll get used to it anytime in the future.

“Why can’t you just get me a couple sweets like a normal person?” Remus whispers harshly, albeit with no actual anger behind his voice.

If anything he seems a bit embarrassed.

Barty levels him with a stink eye and a displeased turn of his lips.

“Don’t compare me to other people, they wish they were me.” Barty sniffs haughtily and Remus would like to believe that he’s entirely joking if not for the flicker of determination behind the silver eyes of the younger boy.

“There’s not even room in our dorms to store any of these” Remus complains as they shuffle closer to the till.

Barty turns to him, sharply enough that it has some of the candy in his arms falling out and rolling away from them.

Remus is about to bend down, horrid joints be damned, to pick up the lost candy before Barty tuts with a shake of his head.

He silently casts a charm to levitate all of the dropped candy back into his arms.

Remus looks at him, unamused as Barty only levels him with a hard look.

“I know what you’re doing” Barty states and Remus’ brows furrow in confusion.

“What?” He asks perplexed.

“Let me spoil you, your world isn’t going to implode just because I bought you some sweets of which I have every right to do” Barty says, cool and detached demeanor as always but there’s a troubled look in his eyes.

As if he’s biting back frustration to let Remus know just how much self control he’s actually exhibiting by only buying him a lifetime supply of candy.

Remus sighs, weary and slightly upset.

He shrugs as his mouth unhelpfully ticks up in a short smile, “Okay,” he relents and Barty’s tense form softens at the acquiescence.

They don’t speak until they’ve paid for the candy and have made their way out of the door, Barty’s one hand filled with a large bag charmed to feel weightless carrying their candy as his other hand is intertwined with Remus’.

“Thank you Bee, love you” Remus whispers as he tugs Barty’s hand up to press a chaste kiss onto his knuckles.

Barty only squeezes his hand tighter in his grip.

[cozzzynook]

Hi

Thought I'd give your ask a try. I love dad Optimus and son Bumblebee.

How do you think dad Optimus reacts to Bee's potential partners?

It depends on the partners honestly.

- if the partners are both Jazz and Prowl, he’s hesitant but gives approval.

- Optimus pulls Jazz aside and Prowl both together and alone and make it very clear he will use rank and force to make their spark’s miserable if they hurt his bitlet mech in any way.

- He tells Prowl in so many words he will make the stoic mech lose composure and shows Jazz that even if he is a beast in the field, he is no Optimus Prime.

- Of course Bumblebee never finds out, he just happily sits on his sires lap and tells him about his day and how happy he is while the others know just how terrifying Optimus really is as he smiles looking at the two who are statue still failing to look unfazed.

- If its Tarn trying to get with Bee Optimus does not care about peace nor does he care about being civil or having honor. He will make sure Tarn knows to never set pede near his bitlet again. Megatron does not do anything to stop Optimus, he warned his troops, they should’ve listened.

- Oddly if its Soundwave and Shockwave Optimus is down right pissed but does nothing to stop it. Bee is in his rebellious phase and he hopes it will end soon. He bites his glossa in hopes it will be over soon and Bee will pick a nice autobot he approves of. Bee does not. Optimus almost rips his finials off when he sees Bee taking care of Shockwave and Soundwaves sparklings Rumble and Frenzy. They look like a family pod and he wishes it would stop. Its Ratchet that pats his shoulder armor and tells him to look at the bright side, “he’s well protected. Those sparklings nearly offlined a mech for trying to touch him. What do you think Shockwave and Soundwave will do?” Optimus isn’t so against it after that, after all- anything goes to protect his bitlet.

- Optimus out right refuses for Bee to Starscream which leads to Bee running off and Optimus leaking coolant chasing after him. Optimus does NOT want anything to come of this and he can’t live a peaceful life cycle knowing his bitlet is mated to Starscream of all mechas. Until he sees how loving and genuine Starscream can be. He’s still a menace and a scrap screamer with everybot else but for Bee he’s at least tame, bare-able and sweet sparked.

- Optimus honestly puts the least amount of pressure on Thundercracker. He’s civil, plans things, looks at the bigger picture, is not Starscream or the little menace Skywarp. And he easily sees how smitten Thuncracker is about Bee. He didn’t put up much fight when he saw Bee returning those feelings and didn’t object when Thundercracker asked to spark bond with Bee. When TC is seen cuddling with Bee Optimus forgets TC is a decepticon who should not be relaxing in an autobot base with his bitlet wrapped in a blanket in recharge on his chassis while said seeker writes a play dedicated to his bitlet….Optimus actually doesn’t mind this. His bitlet is happy so he is happy.

- last but not least if its Blitzwing…Primus help them. Its every creators worst nightmare to know their sweet, precious gremlin bitlet is being courted by the likes of Blitzwing. The afthole seeker turned triple changer who courts his bitlet in some of the sweetest and most chaotic ways imaginable. Blitzwing draws countless images of Bumblebee in recharge, fueling, fighting and gazing at the stars. He would think it sweet if it weren’t the triple changer he saw half devour a mech for touching his bitlet inappropriately. The only reason he stopped was because Bee demanded him. Optimus was NOT fond of Blitzwing asking for Bumblebee’s servo and spark. Nor was he fond of how gentle Blitzwing could be with his bitlet when it was just the two of them. Optimus will deny stalking them he simply had the same route as they did. Even when he looked through their shared home and watched as Blitzwing made fuel for the both of them every lunar cycle without fail because apparently it was his love language.

-Optimus definitely didn’t break down leaking coolant the moment his bitlet said he was in love and spark bonded to Blitzwing. And no, Optimus didn’t hold Bee hostage in his arms leaking because he didn’t want to let his little bitlet go. He did no such thing.

Basically Dad optimus is protective and wants only the best for his baby bot while also being emotional.

☺️🍉🇵🇸🇨🇩🇾🇪🇭🇹

[cemeteryspider]

Unfinished Symphony

Verosika x Hellborn! Reader

Summary: You're Blitzø's last stop on his apology tour.

Trigger Warnings: Mention's of Emotional Abuse, Alcohol Use, Mention's of Self-Hate, and Emotional Distress

Word Count: 723

When entering the house you nearly tripped over Vortex's feet as he stood near the door sipping out of a red cup. You gave him a small smile and a wave as you make your way further into the house, walls littered with graffiti about Blitzø some of which made you giggle.

Then you spotted her drinking from her flask and talking to someone you heard the name of this morning when she asked someone on the phone his address. Stolas. You never expected a Goetia to attend one of her Blitzø hatred party, yet here he was yet another notch on his belt.

You made your way through the sea of people to the drink table, mixing yourself a cocktail with the wide selection of booze that Bee, gratiously gave for the party. Vee had friends in high places you supposed. The drink softened the walls you always had up when the name Blitzø came up around you. Even if you were surrounded by people who had similar experiences with Blitzø you never felt as though you belonged.

He had hurt you, yes, but not that he saw it that way. Running into him always lead to him verbally berating you, and you taking it. Always letting him push you into old self-hating thoughts, a once healthy relationship built on mutual respect turned into an ugly dance of self-deprication and blame.

Still you kept drinking. The drink stops the memories of yelling from surfacing.

Pushing through the crowd you saw Verosika on the stage setting up mics and Vortex doing checks. You felt yourself on the stage getting behind your drum set tapping out a steady beat for your girlfriend, her bodyguard, the guitarists, and Stolas the newest addition to the party.

You could have sworn you could see the glowing eyes of your ex and well everyone here's ex. You push the thought away and allow yourself to lose yourself in the beat. Verosika's voice like a comforting blanket wrapping around you. Maybe more like a bandage that allows old wounds to heal.

As the song ended you found your way to Verosika on the stage, closing your hand around hers.

"Hey, thanks for the beat, babe," She pulled you close to her and rested her chin on the top of your head.

"Anything to hear you sing. You were amazing as always," You smile and nestle your head against her chest.

You felt and heard her giggle against you, "Stop, don't get all sappy on me."

You made your way inside and around the house introducing yourself to different couples and sad people around. Then Verosika said she needed to do something. You allowed yourself to mingle with old friends and new. Partnering with Vortex during a game of beer pong, when you felt a small tug on your shirt.

"Hey, Y/n... can we talk?" The voice that haunted your waking and sleeping time made your stomach constrict.

"Uh... yeah lets go," You followed him outside to the back porch.

"So it's been awhile, huh," He picks at his fingers and refused to look up at you.

"Look Blitzø I know you didn't want to talk small talk with me, so what's this about?"

He scoffed, "Listen, bitch you're making it really hard to do what I'm about to do... I'm sorry."

It was your turn to scoff, "For what, you don't even know what you're apologizing for"

"I'm sorry for always blaming you for every single problem we had. I'm sorry for blaming you for how things ended. Lastly, I'm sorry for every single fucked up thing I've said and done during and after our relationship. You never deserved any of that.... I'm sorry."

Your felt your eyes fill with tears and saw tears already leaking down Blitzø's cheeks.

"Okay. Thanks for the apology. Maybe we can get coffee sometime, and just talk. I don't forgive you, but maybe this is the first step in the right direction," You allowed yourself to put your hand on his and rub your thumb against the back of his hand.

With his other hand he wiped the stray tears from his face, "Yeah... that would be nice."

You could hear Verosika's heels click outside, and you stood up brushing yourself off.

"Everything okay out here?" She smiled and took your hand in yours.

You smiled and looked up at her, "Everything's just fine, Vee."

"Well then I guess I'll see you later... Blitz."

With that you left the party behind, and went back in hell, to your shared apartment. Verosika tenderly taking you in her arms and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you, Vee."

"Love you too."

[lunasdestiny]

A sweet headcanon (with the smallest hint of sour) before you hit us with whatever horrors you have cooking up (p.s. high key scared btw). Bee and Blades are mostly stationed on earth but Bee has more access to cybertron than Blades does. Bee uses this to his advantage in that he goes there every now and then to get treats, games, and other items made just for cybertronians that earth wouldn't have and totally treats Blades to all of it. Blades is usually busy in China with his team and low key is hesitant to visit cybertron now that its rebuilt to full glory (he doesn't want to think about how different it is now since he was last there and also *cough*survivorsguilt*cough*), so when Bee visits showering him in presents it sends him over the moon.

Blades knows he can't get his hands on cybertronian things as easy, but whatever quality items he can find on earth he'll give to Bee. One gift he gave Bee was a review mirror charm with a adorable cartoon bumblebee holding a little knife saying 'Test me bee-och!' on it. Bee had a really good laugh at it and puts it on when Raf isn't around.

omg thats cute AF!!!! The charm is everything XD

Also I agree with the whole Bee being able to go to Cybertron moreoften than Blades...also omg BLADES SURVIVORS GUILT?!😭

Now imagine they finally go on a little date/vacay in cybertron. They have fun and all but then Blades stops at a building. Bee also stops because Blades looks confused.

"Whats up?" "Where is it?" "Where's what?" "The rink! The one I used to go to before I joined the academy. It should be right here." "If I had to guess it must have closed after..."☹️ "I would play here all the time. I thought it would be fun if we did together...but its not here anymore..." "Are you okay?" "Y-Yeah! Im fine! Let's keep going! There's plenty of other things to do!"🥹

Cue Bumblebee feeling awful because he feels like he just dragged Blades to a place where he can be reminded of how the home he once knew was gone. But he refuses to leave on a bleak note so he tries his best to make a subsitute for what Blades missed. Its not the same obviously but it Blades appreciates it so much. Plus it's special because it's their thing now. And in the end they still had a great time.

[ireadwithmyears]

Looking Out for You: Part 3

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Visually impaired reader masterlist

Tagging: @tazmbc1

Word count: 4.7 K

Tags/warnings: visually impaired reader, Angst, confrontation, disability based discrimination/ableism, mild hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, Fox (and reader for that matter actually) are both bad at feelings

Summary: When things start showing signs of getting confrontational when you’re just trying to get a ride home from work, Fox, as is seeming to become routine, saves the day. Now if only you could save yourself from falling even harder for the man who you’re certain, without even having to ask, does not feel the same way about you, things would be just perfect.

Authors note: Surprised I got this up before the new year? Yeah, me too. Planning to have the final installment of this up sometime in January, though with me, you really never know what’s going to happen until it does 🤣 I’m not good at scheduling when it comes to writing. Things are only going to happen when they’re ready to. But without further ado, I hope you enjoy this one, and I’m wishing everyone a happy new year🎊

The third time it happens, Fox is imbued with a vengeful, murderous rage.

Is that an exaggeration? Only slightly. But honestly, it doesn’t take much to set him off these days, and this, he thinks—striding through the twists and turns of the Senate Building’s hallways with tightly clenched fists and a contemptuous glare on his face that he hadn’t even bothered to conceal with his helmet before storming out of his office—has certainly done it, no question

*

It had all started a couple of weeks ago, a few mornings after you and Fox had gone on your breakfast date. No—he adamantly refuses to call it a date. But regardless, after that, several events had occurred in quick and notable succession.

The first, the morning after you had returned to the Senate Building after you had been given a day off in compensation for your working overtime the night prior, you arrived to find a new and fully operational orientation and mobility droid, photoreceptors blinking and waiting for you outside.

Fox, after doing some research, found that they were a very useful and highly sought-after navigational tool for the blind in the workplace, assisting with guidance, orientation through different spaces, and generally aiding by describing visual markers, signage, inaccessibly formatted documents and other things you might encounter.

He had come to find, sifting through Senate-issued requisition forms, that you had been approved to obtain one, fully covered, weeks ago. He made some calls, pulled some strings, and with some degree of satisfaction boosted you to the top of the waitlist and made sure that the droid had been fully set up and functional by the time you returned to work.

Two days later, the first box of baked goods mysteriously appeared outside his office door.

Fox, ever the skeptic, had been wary and had even gone so far as to take the first box of deliciously powdered donuts to one of his medics for screening just to make sure it wasn’t some Separatist trick filled with poison. 

That was proven to not be the case, and his brothers, laughing at him for being so paranoid, had swiped the remaining donuts, converging around the box like a swarming hive of bees eager to taste the first drops of a flower's nectar, eating whatever they could reach.

Fox had glared at them and pretended to be annoyed at his loss, but then the food kept coming. 

Baked goods were sent down to HQ or his office anonymously every couple of days, and if he had been suspicious before—considering he had only just spoken to you about how little exposure clones actually had to food—exiting his office to find your visual interpreting assistant droid, Via, resolutely marching down the hallway with a tin of Coruscant Guard-red frosted cupcakes held in her metallic arms with the logo of the small coffee shop he had taken you to just over a week ago made the pieces come together with a satisfying click in his mind.

“Via,” he had called out, voice colored with fresh surprise and bafflement. “What are you doing?”

“I am delivering a parcel on behalf of my mistress,” she had stated with that tone Fox privately thought droids always used when they believed a human was asking a stupid and redundant question. “As you are the benefactor, I shall relieve myself of it and hand it directly to you.”

He had taken it, utterly lost for words and filled with a mix of confusion and strange, totally foreign delight knowing that you had been the one delivering these gifts.

It was thoughtful, he had mused. Kind. And he really should insist that you put an end to it, because it was unnecessary. But, stomach growling as he looked down at the clear-plastic topped box and turned back to his office to set it down, he found that he wasn’t in too much of a hurry to do so.

*

Come on, Via, hurry up.

The singular thought chases around in circles in your head, anxiety increasing with every tap of your foot against the pavement-covered ground. 

As a rule, and on the recommendation of a certain clone commander, you weren’t in the habit of waiting outside the Senate Building on your own anymore, which is why the droid had shown up at precisely the right time. Rumors were abound that the Senate abductions were still occurring, and even though the Guard was closing in on a specific lead, the suspect was still at large. The situation was made worse with the sun beginning to set earlier, leaving you in almost complete darkness by the time you started making your way home most nights.

But then, things like this would happen, and it made you all the more grateful for the droid’s unexpected but welcome company at the end of the day.

You had explained on her first night waiting with you to catch your ride home from work that sometimes situations like this would arise. 

“And how am I to assist if things were to, as you say, ‘get ugly’?” she had asked, photoreceptors blinking as she looked at you.

“Nothing you can do, I think,” you had shrugged, and when that response had only elicited the mechanical equivalent of a dissatisfied sound from the droid, you had conceded. “I suppose you could get the nearest member of the Coruscant Guard to intercede,” you said, thoughtfully biting your lip. “An uncooperative driver might be more inclined to listen if it’s coming from one of them, though I would prefer to try and handle it on my own first. After a moment’s pause and almost as an afterthought, you had added, “Preferably, get Commander Fox.”

You couldn’t explain why, other than you just trusted him above all others to make sure that if you were ever in a tight spot like this, you got out of it without trouble.

“Excellent,” Via had chirped, straightening with a now satisfied air. “Then that is what I shall do. Though let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Well, a few days later, it did. You found yourself frantically depending on the droid that had, out of nowhere, arrived outside Senator Organa’s office, clearly denoted as being meant specifically for you.

She had her uses, you had to admit. Outside of the usual—getting you to where you needed to go inside the often tricky-to-navigate Senate Building—she could also run errands for you, and that, you had found, was very useful—even if it was for a more personal nature than had originally been intended.

Via had, with the help of your descriptions and admittedly blurred memory from your sleepless night, helped you locate the coffee shop Fox had taken you to, and if outside of work hours, you had required her assistance to help read the menu and place large orders of baked goods to be shipped down to his office or Coruscant Guard HQ…well, no one had said anything against it, and it made you happy knowing that Fox and hopefully some of his brothers would be able to eat food that they would also be able to enjoy, an apparent luxury that they had never been afforded, to your disgust, by their seemingly cutthroat creators.

You had also taken advantage of her translating abilities, which became especially helpful during Senate meetings and also when you had asked her what the kriff “cyar’ika” meant. Your ears turned pink every time you thought about it, and your lips couldn’t resist curling upward into a small, endeared smile whenever the commander came to mind after that.

At this moment though, you certainly weren’t endeared. 

“Who are you to tell me my rights as a driver?” 

The furious shout rings through the quiet parking lot and you swallow, heart picking up in speed as you reach down to run your fingers through Mandalore’s soft fur at the top of her head. She nuzzles into your hand, well practiced in your number-one technique to self-soothe and ground yourself by now. You close your eyes, focusing on the rhythm of your pets, the way her fur feels beneath your fingertips, and find that for once, it’s not helping.

Especially not when the driver—apparently sparked into a rage at your audacity in telling him that it was against planetary law to deny service to beings purely because they were accompanied by a service animal—opens the drive’rs seat door, the click of his seat belt unbuckling unmistakable and ringing in your ears as he gets out of his speeder.

Oh, boy, you think, tentatively taking a step back as he steps into your field of vision on the sidewalk. This has never happened to you before.

“Look,” you manage to get out through a panicked swallow, the rhythm of your hand smoothing against Mandalore’s head too fast, too uneven. “I am simply stating that there are laws in place. If I were to take this to court—”

“You’d what, take away my license?” He’s menacing as he takes another step forward, and you physically recoil at the smell of stale caf that you catch on his breath as he invades your space. “I bet you think you’re untouchable because you kiss Organa’s ass, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

He reaches out, you think maybe to grab the badge that denotes your name and position within the Senate, but you’re stepping, no, stumbling backward, Mandalore jumping to her feet and shoving her way in front of you as her ears perk upward in consternation, intuitively sensing your growing unease.

She’s trained to be well-behaved, to remain calm and unaffected in even the most chaotic situations, yet right now she senses a clear threat, and you don’t scold her for acting on it. Hell, your hands are shaking so hard that you can barely keep a grip on her leash, let alone reach for her harness.

And then the double doors of the Senate Building come swishing open behind you and a voice—steady, sure, and with the cutting edge of a deadly knife—fills you with such a sharp, distinct sense of relief that it nearly brings you to your knees. 

*

“Do we have a problem here?”

It’s strange and distinctly unsettling for Fox to catch a glimpse of Mandalore giving voice to his internal rage with her expression alone. But he realizes as he steps out from the shadows that he’s only ever seen her happy and calm, a far cry from the tense, highly alert, and looking like she’s about to pounce canine that stands in front of you right now.

He understands though. He understands her all too well. If Via’s report on the rapidly escalating situation she had briefed him on as they speed walked hadn’t been enough, than this—hearing the tail end of the confrontation and seeing that the driver had looked to be about to lunge for you—well, sufficed  to say his blood is boiling, and his heart is beating loudly in his ears.

Fox takes a breath, flexes his fingers, and wills himself to calm down before he speaks again. When he calls your name, it’s still gruff, but softer, wanting only gentle words to be directed your way. He’s relieved to see that despite your already tense shoulders and your shaking hand clutching at Mandalore’s leash, you don’t flinch when he addresses you—a small but resounding victory in his mind.

“Stay right there,” Fox murmurs, his voice steady, coaxing, and soft, making it all the more  obvious when he directs it away from you. When he speaks to the man that still looms menacingly over you, his words are anything but soft.

“You,” Fox barks, pleased to watch the man cringe at the hint of a snarl in his voice. “You’re going to take five large steps away from her right now.”

Before the driver can get any foolhardy ideas of turning tail and diving back into his speeder, Fox allows his hand to drift to his hip, though he’s not reaching to draw. His fingers tap against the holster, not even having to lift it or look down as they adeptly prime the weapon to stun.

There is an audible swallow before the man slowly complies, taking the required amount of steps away from you. Fox nods, satisfied as he clears the distance, immediately putting himself between you and the driver, now allowing the man to know what it feels like to have someone much bigger looming menacingly above him as he glares.

“Now,” his next words are quiet, calm…deadly, “you’re going to get back into your speeder, and you’re going to do exactly as your job has directed you and bring this lady, accompanied by her service dog, to her place of residence.”

He senses the objection coming, and he growls lowly, reaching to grasp at the man’s collar, giving a small tug to enunciate his next words when he speaks them.

“And perhaps,” he says, his words biting in the chilled air, “if you do your task satisfactorily, I will consider having the suspension I’m going to place on your license as soon as you’ve dropped her off reinstated after a week instead of a month as I had originally intended.”

“A month?” the man practically squeaks. “That’s preposterous—”

“And did you really think she was joking about the 5,000-credit fine for service animal access denial?” Fox asks, cutting him off. “I’m sure I could pull some strings and still work that in on top of the suspension if you’d like.”

“Technically, the fine could be doubled to 10,000,” Via pipes up, her mechanical footsteps coming to a stop as she stands beside Fox. “I have recorded evidence that you attempted to physically engage with my mistress without her expressed consent.”

Fox has to restrain the impulse to give the droid a full-out grin as the driver, twitchy and squirming as he already is, falls silent, biting the inside of his cheek before letting out a breath and mutely nodding his head, and as Fox releases the grip he has on his collar, he scurries back into his speeder, opening the back passenger door with a remote as he does.

Is he supposed to use his rank as a Marshal Commander of the Coruscant guard to deliver personal vendettas like this? No, but he’s certainly already exploited his position to do much more ambiguous and morally questionable things, and one lone speeder driver attempting to rat him out for this one will, in all likelihood, fall on deaf ears. So, weighing the odds, he’s satisfied and feeling just pissed off and petty enough that he’s willing to take the risk.

“Fox,” your voice escapes you in a breath as you move forward, catching his arm and looking up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s all sorted,” Fox says, trying to sound reassuring as he places a hand lightly over yours. “He’ll get you home with no trouble.”

“But, I…” despite your inability to articulate, he sees it. A single glance you throw towards the speeder displays the anxiety and fear still very real and present within your eyes, and Fox understands, the pieces clicking together in his mind like a puzzle.

Fox can tell just by watching the man through his window—fumbling with his keys and sending nervous glances over his shoulder, as if he’s concerned that Fox might change his mind and instead demand him to surrender his license on the spot—that he’s eliminated the threat. What Fox hasn’t done though, and what he should be wholly focussed on right now, is eliminating your fear.

“You don’t feel safe with him,” he states, watching as you nod your head.

“No,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t.”

Of course, you don’t. Fox internally kicks himself. Why would you even under normal circumstances feel safe in a speeder with a man you’ve never met before, let alone one who’s angered and personally confronted and threatened you within the span of several minutes. And that’s only what Fox had witnessed.

Right, he thinks. Time to fix that. 

Fox gives the hand that’s still curled around his bicep a small squeeze, feeling how unwilling your fingers seem to be to let go, and as he looks up, watching the way you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, an idea sparks.

“Bet you thought you were going to drive away from here and get rid of me,” Fox mutters darkly, startling the driver as he ducks inside the back of the speeder, shifting to the other side of the seat. “Not a chance.”

“Come on, Cyar’ika,” he calls to you, voice warm as he invitingly pats the available row of seats at his side. “Let’s get the two of you home.”

*

“Mandy.”

Your voice is a soft, quiet call within the silence, and even the sound of it makes you startle slightly and flinch, eyes uncertainly flicking towards the front of the speeder. You desire to make yourself small and inconsequential, as inconspicuous to the unwilling and already annoyed driver as you possibly can.

Angry people are unpredictable, and you have no desire to be in his targeting range. But you also, despite the fact that there is a fully trained and armed clone commander sitting at your side, need comfort. You need the reassurance that you’re not alone and that you’re safe, and sometimes only your guide dog can do that, making the nights feel less dark and the paths you wander never lonely because she’s there leading you through them and standing at your side, as constant as the air that you’re breathing.

When her head pops up from where she’s been lying down at your feet, eyes shining through the evening’s encroaching darkness, you smile, though it’s strained, and reach down to stroke one of her long, soft ears. 

“Hey, girl,” you whisper, leaning forward to bump your forehead against hers. The proximity is familiar, the feeling of her fur imprinted on your memory like the back of your own hand. “You’re so good.”

“You call her Mandy?” Fox asks, his voice low and amused at your side as he watches you.

“Sometimes,” you say, straightening as you continue to pet her fondly. “It’s one of her many nicknames.”

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you speak, looking at each other as the traffic blurs by outside the windows. 

“Do you have any?” you ask, suddenly seizing on the opportunity for conversation, craving any kind of distraction from this mess. “Nicknames, I mean.”

“Not really,” he responds, shaking his head before pausing and glancing down, his cheeks warming with a slightly embarrassed heat. “Well, sometimes my brothers call me ‘Fox’ika,’ just to piss me off.”

“What does it mean?” you ask, privately suspecting that it’s another term in Mando’a, but not wanting to reveal to him that you knew of his prior slip up.

Right now, what he had called you can exist in your mind, and you can smile and blush about it all you want. But if you said anything, if you let him know that he had given voice to the feelings you were becoming more and more aware were stirring within you for the commander, it would become real, and with reality comes the knowledge that it was probably nothing more than accidental.

You’re not ready to let that go, not just yet. The fantasy that he could think of you in that way, that he could want you in that way is just too good, too enchanting—enough to give you butterflies every time you think of that one, simple term of endearment that means everything to you but probably means absolutely nothing to him—to let go of just yet. So you don’t.

“Adding ‘-ika’ to a word makes it more diminutive,” Fox explains, oblivious to your inner mess of conflicting thoughts and feelings. “Little. It would be like calling me ‘Little Fox,’ you know?”

“That is kind of cute,” you can’t help but admit, your smile cheeky as you look up at him.

You’re imagining this tall, well-built, and highly competent clone commander as nothing more than an adorable, little fox looking up at you with wide eyes, and you can’t help but grin.

“Oh, please,” Fox groans, placing a hand on his heart. “Your betrayal has wounded me grievously.”

His voice is so stoic, so serious and deadpan that you can’t help but snort, a small giggle slipping past your lips before you can stop it. Fox pokes you in the side, which makes you instinctively slap his hand away as you begin to laugh more, until there’s a small, but audible huff of irritation from the driver's seat of the speeder. You stop, all of your previous safety and feelings of starting to be at ease retreating in an instant, your previous anxiety and discomfort snapping back like an elastic band being pulled to its limits and rebounding.

Fox notices your sudden stillness, your startling and abrupt retreat back within yourself. He frowns, and before you know it, your hands are intertwined with his. Your eyes widen. You’re taken off-guard for an instant because while the warmth of his hands and their steady, reassuring weight against yours has become familiar to you, the barrier of gloves in between is gone, and the palms that cradle yours are soft, warm, and grounding.

He lifts one of yours, guiding it until the palm is flipped face down, lightly resting against Mandalore’s warm, soft forehead.

“She’s here,” he states, lightly stroking the back of your fingers before letting go, leaving your hand settled against the guide dog’s soft fur.

The warmth of his touch completely surrounds and envelops your hand as he cradles it, taking the one remaining between both of his and guiding it to rest against his thigh, making no move to push you off or retreat as he looks down at you.  

“I’m here,” he says, his voice a low, soothing rumble that’s just above a whisper in the darkness.

He presses your hand against his, and you feel the rough calluses built up from years of handling blasters and weapons as his fingertips trace against your knuckles. 

“You’re almost home, Cyar. Just two more minutes,” he murmurs, glancing down at his comm as it tracks your progress on a map. “And me and Mandy aren’t going anywhere in the meantime.”

You swallow, shifting closer to him and nodding your head. You should be relieved, should be happy that you’re almost home and you can finally get away from this speeder that smells of stale cigars and dirty old caf cups and from the driver who has done nothing but make you feel uncomfortable and unsafe this whole time.

But all you can think as you look up at Fox and continue holding onto his hands, is consequences be damned. You really just want to lean forward, press your lips against his, and kiss him until the two of you are breathless right now.

*

“Are you good from here?”

You give Fox a small nod of your head, but make no move to extricate your arm from where it’s nestled in the crook of his elbow. Truthfully, you had been good some distance ago, as soon as the speeder had pulled up in front of your house. You knew where you were going, but he had still offered out his arm and guided you down the pathway, up the steps, and straight to your door with such uncharacteristically gentle attentiveness that you found yourself unable to refuse him, and since your hand is still shaking and you’re still throwing glances over your shoulder as the speeder drives off, so what if you’re enjoying someone fussing over you just a little? Right now, you’ll take it.

“You know, we will sort this out,” Fox says, voice quieter as he glances down at the hand still looped through his arm, sensing your hesitation. “This won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it.”

In all honesty, Fox is fully preparing himself to march straight up to Senator Organa’s office, because he knows that out of most of the fools who work in the Senate Building, he will at least respectfully listen and take the security concerns towards his lower staff members seriously when Fox informs him of them. If nothing else—if your right to having consistent, accommodating transportation to and from work isn’t enough—then surely the knowledge that the Guard still hasn’t managed to catch the culprit behind the abductions surrounding his committee and the fact that you have to travel in unregulated and unsecure transports will be.

“I know,” you say, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Reluctantly, you let your hand fall away from where it’s been holding onto his arm, turning to unlock your door. “Thanks for getting me home. I don’t think I would’ve felt safe without having you there.”

The door opens, and you raise one foot to step through the threshold. Then, possessed by some reckless, unthinking urge, you turn around, clear the distance between the two of you in several quick, small steps, rise up onto your tiptoes. and with one of your hands holding onto his shoulder for leverage, press your lips against his in a soft, chaste kiss.

Fox’s brain short circuits. One minute, he’s thinking about speaking to Senator Organa and potential breaches in security, and the next all of his thoughts are swept away and instantly consumed by you, the hand that holds onto his armored shoulder feeling so light and inconsequential, and yet even through the plastoid, the touch is present and poignant, burning through his skin to the bones that lie beneath.

When your lips meet his, he feels the way in which they part, making way for a soft exhalation of breath that brushes against his own skin and his eyes widen, surprised and all at once wanting. He lifts a hand, undecided between whether he wants to tug you closer by one of your hips so he can indulge himself in knowing what it feels like to have you pressed up against him, or to lightly and with a gentleness he didn’t know he wanted to have, lift his hand to brush his fingers against the soft cheek unmarred by scars as his is and hold it within the gentle press of his palm as he cradles the side of your face, keeping your lips pressed against his exactly where he wants you, where he needs you, with a sudden fervor and to the very core of his being.

Fox isn’t given the chance to do either of those things. 

Mandalore, evidently impatient to get inside so she can finally be relieved of her work duties, gives an exasperated shake, jingling the metal in both her leash and harness as she waits by the door for you to return. You jump back, looking for all the world like you have just been caught doing something completely inexcusable. Fox doesn’t understand the twisting, sinking feeling in his chest when he catches sight of your expression, and you don’t give him much time to investigate it further.

“I…forgive me, Commander.”

Your words come out in a barely there whisper, and before he can respond—before he can even think about the over half-a-dozen responses in his head, ranging from a casual “nothing to forgive,” to a “please, do it again,” to just taking you by your fidgeting hands, spinning you so that you’re pinned against the wall and pressing his lips against yours until you’ve forgotten all about your previous apologies—you’re turning and scurrying away, eyes widened as if you’re a frightened tooka, and retreat back into the safety of your house, the tap of Mandalore’s paws click-clacking against the hardwood floor following after you, seeming to echo the accompanying silence, the abrupt and startling standstill that takes place in Fox’s mind as soon as you’ve disappeared behind the door.

Fox stares, eyes equally wide, at the panelled wood that now stands between the two of you, his breath caught in his throat. His lips are still parted, still eager, and still waiting to be given another kiss that he now knows is not coming.

It takes him a long, long time to summon the energy, the willpower, to turn and step away from your door and slowly descend the three porch steps.

Fox doesn’t know how he manages it, but, coward that he is, he walks away, hating himself more and more with every step that he takes as he leaves you behind.

•Thank You to @strangergraphics-archive for these adorable puppy dividers

[drama-glob]

SPOILERS FOR "SINSMAS!"

Man, this episode was a roller coaster. O_O

Poor Stolas on adjusting to life not being a prince anymore, but my heart melted from how much care and patience Blitz showed to try and comfort him even though he was mainly worried about his daughter over the course of the month. Poor Octavia too on being stuck with Stella and Andrealphus, who definitely kept up with controlling her by taking away her phone and clearly not actually caring about her. :(

I liked that we learned what "Sinsmas" is and makes me wonder how the Sins celebrate because no way they would miss out on this, even though the holiday may not actually be celebrated by the other royals given that Stolas doesn't seem to even know what it it; of course, it could just come from being raised by Paimon, who may not have it in the palace because he either did not care about his kids enough to celebrate with them or considered it a holiday just for the lower class. :/

It's crazy (and sad) that Octavia's song was indeed a parallel to "You Will Be Okay," but it further shows the divide and lack of forgiveness she has for her father all while holding Blitz as the enemy who's to blame. :( Her finding Stolas's pills was so sad too since she seemed to feel betrayed and confused, but I'm glad she was taking the pills to her dad because I was worried for a moment she might have thought to take them. O_O

My heart though when Blitz saw that family and envisioned it being him, Stolas, Octavia, and Loona as one big, happy family; that's basically every Stolitz shipper's dream! I hope we see it come true one day.<3<3<3

I literally cheered when Stolas punched Andrealphus in the face because that peacock deserves it and the fact that Stolas is typically a pacifist just proves how much he wants to see his daughter. I also laughed my ass off to Blitz calling Andrealphus "Elsa" because we've all thought it at one point or another and I even made a meme about it. XD It was amazing getting to see Loona use more magic and I heard we'll learn more about her in season 3, so we'll likely see her use more of her magical arsenal. ;) I lost it though when Blitz saved Stolas and they kissed in midair! Just yes to all of it! ^_^<3<3<3

I'm glad Octavia managed to save the day, but sadly, we all knew what likely was going to occur for Stolas and Octavia's interaction thanks to the trailer; it was still such a gut-punch though as they're both crying and Octavia is refusing to listen to Stolas, which only further highlights where Stolas trying to shelter Octavia has exacerbated the issue. ;_; ;_; ;_;

OMG though on Millie being pregnant!!! We were given the signs and even I was like "Oh, she's pregnant, isn't she?" Sure enough, we got the confirmation, so now we'll have to unpack that drama bomb in Season 3 since she still hasn't told Moxxie yet and we don't know what her decision will be. O_O Also, it was great getting to see Loona hang out with her friends from "Queen Bee." ^_^<3<3<3

Even though things aren't the best for Stolas right now, I was so happy for the Stolitz content we got with Blitz actually being romantic and affectionate, so at least Stolas further knows that Blitz does care and want to be with him. Aww to that hug at the end!!! ^_^<3<3<3

(Although I wish we had seen some Sins actually in it like Ozzie or Bee, I understand why they didn't since it would have messed with the flow and focus of the story. :/ Now we'll have to wait until Season 3 to see them or be blessed to have some shorts focused on them).

[ziggyzolch]

Queen Bee-atch Ⅷ (Regina George x Reader)

Warnings: hospital. i think thats it.

✮✮✮

Mechanical whirring and beeping with the sound of Regina’s leg bouncing filled the waiting room. It was coming up to 6 hours since they’d taken you in for surgery.

“Can you stop?” Janis snaps at Regina, who rolls her eyes.

“I’m not complaining about how disgusting it is that you’re picking at your nails in public!” Regina retorts, but stops her leg bouncing anyways.

The tension was palpable, almost unbearable.

After a moment of silence, Regina’s leg starts again.

 “God!” Janis gets up to walk away, when she bumps into someone. “Janis!” Your mom gives your friend a hug, “Where’s my daughter?” Janis scratches the back of her head. “She’s in that room,” She points, “But they aren’t letting us in yet.” Your mom raises an eyebrow, “Us? Is Damien here?” Janis steps to the side, revealing Regina behind her. 

“Oh. Hello.” She doesn’t offer the same warmth as she did with Janis. Regina awkwardly waves and introduces herself, internally cursing at herself at how lame she was being.

Your mother turns back to Janis with a smile, saying something in Arabic. Janis stares while Regina attempts to hold in her laugh. 

“What?” 

Your mothers smile falters, “Aren’t you Lebanese?” Regina bursts out in laughter, covering her mouth at Janis’s glare. “Uh, no. I’m a lesbian. Your daughter misheard me.” 

A look of realization crosses over your mothers face before she recovers, “No matter, let’s sit, yes?” She places a hand on Janis’s shoulder, guiding her to take a seat next to her while she sat in between her and Regina.

Regina was shocked at how calm your mother was for a woman whose daughter had her leg snapped in half. Even Janis was freaking out. 

“So, Regina, how do you know my daughter?” 

Janis answers, “She bullied her for like two years.” 

Regina attempts to lean over your mother to slap Janis's leg.

Your mothers jaw clenches, “So why, pray tell, are you waiting for her looking like you’re about to soil yourself?”

Your mother’s tone was accusatory, making Regina stumble over her words. She takes a breath, glares at Janis then starts, “It’s true, I was horrible. But I have since made up for it!” 

 “Hm.” Your mother grabs a magazine from the little cupboard next to the couch, effectively ending the conversation.

“How are you so calm? No offense.” Janis asks after a couple seconds of silence.

Your mother sighs, placing the magazine down. 

“My daughter is not a…careful person. She’s been in the ER more times than I can count.”

 Regina chimes in, worry evident in her voice, “Why?” 

The woman smiles, making Janis and Regina look at each other in confusion,

“Have you girls not seen how clumsy she is? Last week, I watched her bump into two different walls 5 seconds within each other.”

The conversation is interrupted by a doctor peeking his head out of the room you were in, announcing to them that they could now enter. The first thing they hear when they go in is your laughing, 

“Hey, Breakfast Club.” 

They all groan, refusing to laugh at your joke. Regina approaches you first, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed and caressing your cheeks, “Poor baby. How are you feeling?” 

Your mother raises an eyebrow at Regina’s behavior, but doesn’t say anything.

 “I’m chilling. I could take over the world, probably.” You start giggling as the doctor walks up to you, writing something down on his clipboard.

“The surgery went well. We’ll keep her here overnight to monitor for any infection.” 

Your moms eyes widen, “Can someone tell me what happened exactly?”

You sluggishly turn your head towards your mother, “I saved the universe.”

 The woman rolls her eyes, taking a seat on the other side of the bed. Janis gives her a run down of what happened, while Regina’s eyes stay fixed on you. 

“It was an open tibia fracture, so it’ll take her 6-12 months to fully heal.” The doctor says before exiting the room.

“She’s gonna be a huge pain in the ass for the next 6-12 months.” Janis jokes, walking towards your bed. You flip her the bird, laughing when Regina and your mother reprimand you at the same time.

Your smile drops when your mom gets up, “Where are you going?” Your mother sighs, checking her phone and adjusting her jacket, “I have a work thing. Janis, I trust you to keep her entertained. Regina,” She looks her up and down, “I trust that you won’t let her jump in front of any more buses.” Your mother ignores Regina's sputtering, making her way out.

You roll your eyes when you hear her on a phone call the second the door closes behind her. “What a byotch.”

✮✮✮

It’s been an hour since you fell asleep, Regina and Janis had refused to leave you alone, and the tension was back. They hadn't made eye contact since your mother left, despite sitting opposite each other on either side of you.

Janis’s phone ringing broke the uncomfortable silence. She sighs and answers her phone,

“Hey Damien, yeah she’s okay…” Janis exits the room for the rest of the call, not wanting to wake you up. Regina looks down at your clammy forehead, moving your baby hairs to the side. “Idiot.” She mumbles with a smile.

Janis walks in to find Regina placing a kiss on your forehead. She rolls her eyes, announcing her presence by pushing the door closed harder than necessary.

 Regina pulls away, opting to hold your hand instead. “How did this even happen?” Janis questions as goes back to her place on the bed. Regina raises an eyebrow,

“Uh, bus?” 

Janis groans, “No, how did you guys happen.” 

Regina lets out a breath, “I…honestly don’t know. She’s too forgiving for her own good.” 

Janis scoffs before Regina corrects herself, “No! What I mean is...I did everything to make up for it, but I feel like it wasn’t enough for her to forgive me y’know?.”

Janis sighs, nodding, “I sat on her old guitar once by accident and broke the neck, she refused to let me pay for a new one. Even paid for food after.”

She looks away, “I’m sorry, for the whole scheming thing, by the way.”

Regina huffs out a laugh, “I guess we’re even now.”

✮✮✮

“Honey, are you sure you can go to the school from here?” Your mother asked as she helped you out of the car, handing you your crutches and adjusting your dress. “Yeah, Regina said she’d pick me up from here, either way I could just get an uber.” You reassured her, adjusting yourself on your crutches. Your mother looks at you for a moment before slapping her hands together awkwardly, “Alright. Stay at Regina's tonight, yeah? I have a date coming over.”

You watch her drive away before making your way into the building. This place was a maze! After wandering around aimlessly for a while, you finally made it to your destination. Ignoring the stares, you took your seat in the audience. Watching the two teams solve math questions faster than you could comprehend was surprisingly entertaining. Cady and a girl you couldn't care less about approach the stands at the front of the stage. Your heart beats wildly as you watch Cady stand in silence while everyone leans forward in anticipation.

“The limit does not exist!”

You cheer loudly, using your crutches to pull yourself up. Cady looks up to find you attempting to raise an arm up in celebration. She raises both thumbs at you, laughing when you almost fall over. She bids goodbye to the team, walking towards the exit.

“What are you doing here?” Cady says as you slowly approach her at the doors.

“I figured you’d want some support. Also Kevin posted that he had a ‘mega hot chick’ in his team on his story. Figured it was you.”

Cady huffs out a laugh, walking with you towards the parking lot.

 “Janis told me what happened while I was gone, by the way,” Cady’s smile drops. You’re quick to reassure her, “Hey, it isn’t the end of the world!” You adjust your crutches to pat her on the shoulder, “Have you seen the way these people move from one gossip to another? You’ll be fine.” Cady smiles, eyebrows scrunching in thought, “Thank you. When did you get so wise?”

You blink, “Since I got hopped up on painkillers, babeh.”

Cady’s laugh stops at the sight of Regina’s trademark convertible. “Come on, losers!” Regina parks her car, getting out to help you into the passenger seat and placing your crutches in the trunk. Cady stays in her place before Regina rolls her eyes, walking up to her and lightly pushing her towards the backseat. “Don’t be weird. I made a promise to be nice, don’t make it any harder on me.” Regina says while getting back in the driver’s seat.

“You look beautiful,”

Regina blushes at your compliment, leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek, “Flatterer.”

She buckles you in before herself, then starts driving. You were about to ask Cady about life since taking blame for the burn book, when you catch her leaning her head out the car, letting the wind blow through her hair. You decide to let her be.

✮✮✮

You were in the bathroom with Cady, the door muffling the horrible music playing at the dance as you attempted to pull out your eyeliner. Regina ordered her to stay with you while she went to make up with Gretchen and Karen, despite your reassurances that you’d be fine. 

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.” You say, groaning when you drop your eyeliner. 

Cady goes to pick it up, “You’re the least mad at me, I’d rather it be you than anyone else.” 

You attempt to shrug, “True. I’m bad at holding grudges.” You shuffle around awkwardly, “Can you help me with my mascara?” She smiles at you, nodding.

“You gonna talk to Janis?” Cady’s smile falters slightly,

“Yeah, I guess I have to.”

“Don’t worry,” You pause until she finishes the first eye, “Janis holds grudges hardcore-”

“Oh great.”

“But! She’s chill after an apology.”

Cady finishes up with your other eye before capping and placing your mascara in your handbag. “We’ll see. You really do look beautiful, by the way.”

You offer her a half-smile, “I’m on crutches with an ugly, obnoxious, lime green cast,”

She picks at a loose thread on her jacket, “I’m sorry,”

You shrug, “No need, I basically broke my own leg. Also, I’m on way too many painkillers right now to care.”

The conversation is interrupted by Damien storming in, 

“Hey! Regina told me you were in here. Come on! They're announcing the queen-" Damien catches sight of Cady, "Oh, hello.” 

Cady shuffles on her feet. You roll your eyes and nudge her to walk with you as Damien rushes back out.

You follow Damien to the front of the crowd, using your crutches to push people out of the way. Cady had opted to stay at the back, not wanting to bring attention to herself. 

Regina spots you from the stage and blows you a kiss. You’re attempting to conceal the blush on your face when someone smacks your back. “Ow! What the fuck, Janis.”

Janis laughs, adjusting her tie, “Looking good dude, your cast lowkey ruins it though.”

 You sigh, “Yeah, they shouldn’t have let me pick the color. I was high and thought it’d be funny.” 

You look at Damien and Janis, “You both look dapper, by the way. Straight out of a 60’s sitcom.”

Your attention turns towards Principal Duvall as he announces the winners. You pretend to gag when Shane Oman wins, making Regina crack a smile. 

Her smile drops when Cady’s name is announced. Janis laughs when she catches Cady squinting at the harsh spotlight shining on her, making you nudge her shin with your crutch in warning.

“Woo! Cady!” 

Janis and Damien roll their eyes at your cheering. You smile throughout her whole speech, laughing when Damien dramatically gasps at her breaking the crown and handing the pieces out. 

Regina winks at you and shows off her piece of the crown, making you giggle until you feel something bounce off your forehead.

 “Shit! Sorry…” Cady mumbles.

She finishes off her speech and approaches your group. “Hey, so…are we still in a fight?”

“Are you still an asshole?”

“I don’t think so?”

Janis smiles, “Then we’re good”

You bounce to the best of your ability, “I am over the moon-”

“Alright-” Janis holds you up when you almost topple over.

“Over the moon.” You repeat.

Your glance behind Cady, “Hey, I think someone’s waiting for you.”  She glances behind you, “You too.” 

You turn to find Regina smiling warmly at you, “Hey,”  You hobble over to her, “Hey, yourself.” 

She looks at your crutches, trying to figure out how to dance with you when an idea pops into her head. You screech, dropping your crutches as she lifts you to wrap your legs around her, holding the bottoms of your thighs. 

“Regina!” She smirks, ignoring you and spinning around. You tuck your head into her neck, mumbling. Regina slows, switching to slowly swaying you, “What was that, baby?”

You lift your head up, “You’re my favorite person.”

Regina’s smile is impossibly wide as she leans in to kiss you. You pull away when you hear Janis yell at you to ‘Get a room!’, catching your breath while Regina lightly rubs her nose against yours.

“Hey guys, I broke a spotlight, we gotta dip.” You barely process what Janis says before you catch her and Damien sprinting out of the school. You turn back to Regina, giggling when she attempts to pick up your crutches while holding you.

 Cady catches her struggling and walks up to you, her man-candy walking alongside her. Regina lets out a breath of relief when they offer to help. Aaron holds you up as Regina places you down to pick up your crutches and hand them to you. 

“Thanks.” You smile up at Aaron. 

“No problem, Gerard.”

Cady and Regina laugh when you turn to them, wide eyed. “I’m sorry babe, I used it once around them and it stuck.” You groan, “Ugh, let’s just go.”

✮✮✮

“Okay. How’s the weather right now? Don’t look up!” You were all gathered in Regina’s backyard, sitting in a circle. Karen keeps her eyes trained on you as she pushes her boobs together. You raise your eyebrows in amusement. “It’s like, kind of cloudy a little.” You glance at the sky, giving her a thumbs up when it is, in fact, ‘like, kind of cloudy a little’.

Regina pokes your stomach, making you giggle and everybody else roll their eyes. You raise an eyebrow at Cady and Aaron. “What are you guys annoyed about? You’re basically having sex in front of us right now.” 

Cady’s face goes red as Aaron barks out a laugh, “She’s literally just on my lap, you were the one face-fucking Regina.” It’s your turn to blush as Regina laughs, crossing her legs and pulling you into her lap.

She hands you a toaster strudel from the snack tray, looking away and blushing when you moan at the taste, “God these are so good,”

 Gretchen perks up, “My father invented those, y’know.”

“Yes, Gretchen, we know.” You slap Regina’s thigh. She sighs and apologizes to Gretchen, unable to stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head.

“We’re back!” Damien and Janis come out of the house, holding guitars behind their backs. 

You angle your body slightly to face Regina. “You have two fucking guitars!” She laughs as Janis hands you one, plopping down next to you while Damien hands her the other one.

You signal to Janis to start playing something, you’d follow along. You let her strum for a while, eye brows furrowed trying to figure out what song she’s playing. She must've adjusted it to be playable on acoustic or something.

Damien seems to catch on before you as he starts singing,

“When I was…a young boy…”

Everybody starts laughing. This nickname was going to be the death of you.

You start reluctantly strumming along with Janis as Damien's singing intensifies. Regina sways you slightly, shocking you when she joins in on the singing.

You stop in the middle of the song, using 'overexertion' as an excuse.

You put the guitar aside as Janis and Damien get up to bow, while the rest start filing into the house.

You twist your body around, making Regina adjust her position so you could straddle her. “You’re more emo than me, Blondie.” She gasps dramatically, “I don’t think so, Gerard-"

 “I love you.”  

Regina giggles, “You’re such a lesbian.” 

You groan, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. She tuts, lifting your chin up,

“I love you too.”

✮✮✮

A/N: That's the end! Thank you so so sos sososososososos much for reading. sorry if i bungled the medical stuff, so tired didnt proofread. anyways, I might do one-shots for this universe, or other stuff if you guys have requests. but thats it for now! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3 <3

Tag list: @itzyyyyyydaaaaaa @modernsapphicism @cheesysoup-arlo @ladyqueenxoxo @charleeeesworld