#thems some fightin words

[orcboxer]

half the people that use fightin words don't even expect a fight. they are surprised by the fight.

[showmey0urfangs]

In today's edition of IWTV twitter woes:

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Prophecy (Lucien Vanserra x Rhys! Sister)/(Azriel x Rhys! Sister) Part 2

Part 1

AN: Wow I just want to say I have been so overwhelmed by the love part one got. Thank you for all the comments! I truly cherish each one!This part is a little short, because if I end up doing two different versions (a Lucien version and an Az version) this is where they will probably split off.

If you're new here check out my masterlist!

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right? 

Warnings: so much fluff, Angst, they be fightin'

Word count: 3485

“Are you sure you want to do this?  We can fully elope if you want to.” I whisper to Lucien as we stand in front of the double oak doors to my brother's office. 

At first I was confident that we had nothing to worry about. But now that I stood here, with only an ornate piece of wood separating us from the High Lord? The nerves had started settling in.

“I’m sure, an honorable male would ask your brother's permission before wedding you, and you deserve nothing but an honorable male.” he smiled, squeezing my left hand, the one his family ring currently found its home on. 

“But what if he says-” 

“Are you seriously doubting my silver tongue right now?” he smirked, cocking an eyebrow at me. “There’s a reason I was cursed to wear a fox mask for 50 years my darling.” 

“Believe me I know all about that silver tongue,” I laughed, nudging him with my shoulder as I recalled what that silver tongue did to me last night.  

“Shall we?” he asked, donning an unbothered face. 

“We shall,” I smiled before pushing open the doors. 

Inside the ostentatious study sat my brother, with his mate perched on his desk beside him with her back facing us. He broke his love sick gaze on her to see Lucien and I standing at the end of his desk. 

“Sister…Lucien, this is a surprise,” Rhys said, fixing some papers on his desk, as if to collect the thoughts swirling inside his head as well. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t knock, that was an oversight on our part,” I laughed thinking about the thousands of compromising positions we might’ve found them in. I silently thanked the cauldron for keeping that reality at bay. 

“I was hoping I could discuss something with you,” Lucien said regally. I was so taken back by his tone I couldn’t help but look up to him, his face was nothing short of the son of a High Lord. 

The air in the room stiffened as Feyre turned around to sit on the arm of Rhys chair, I suddenly felt like I was in a fishbowl. My brother and I had always been very close, I had shared everything in my life with him, there wasn’t a story of mine he didn’t know. But he didn’t know about Lucien, and I wasn’t sure how he would react to that. 

“Of course Lucien you can speak to us about anything,” Feyre smiled warmly,  placing her hand over Rhys’ as if to calm him down.

“With all due respect Feyre this is just between Rhysand and myself,” Lucien stated with the utmost respect, yet I still nudged his foot in warning. 

Rhys shifted in his seat a bit, placing his hand on Feyre’s hip, “Anything you have to say to me you can also say to my mate Vanserra.” 

This was not going according to plan. 

“Well, you see,” Lucien looked at me and I gave him a subtle nod to continue. “Y/n and I have been seeing each other for quite sometime now-” 

“And by seeing each other you mean?” Rhys interjected. 

Lucien cleared his throat, “We’re all adults here Rhysand I-” 

“You mean to tell me you’ve been fucking my sister?!” Rhys growled and I swear the mountains stirred in the distance. 

“Rhys calm down!” I shout but Feyre speaks up first. 

“How long has this been going on for?” Feyre asks, calmly. Her voice seemingly caused Rhys to lower his hackles. 

“Since Starfall,” Lucien answered truthfully. 

“Dammit I owe Cassian money,” she cursed looking at the door of the adjacent room. 

Rhys turned to look at his mate bewildered, “you had suspicions and you didn’t tell me?” he gasped. 

“Well Cassian thought they were going to hookup that starfall but I said there was no way,” Feyre said seemingly disappointed she lost a bet. 

“Guys?” I probe, turning both of their attentions back to us.

“What I’m trying to say is I admire your sister very much Rhysand, and I would like to ask for your permission for her hand in marriage,” Lucien said, giving my hand a squeeze. 

Feyre looked to Lucien, “But Elain is your mate?” she asks, confused. 

“And Azriel is yours y/n,” Rhys reminded me. 

“Come on Rhys, it’s been 400 years. If the bond was going to snap it would’ve happened by now. Azriel doesn’t want me.” I say honestly, and for the first time, the words don’t sting as much as they normally do. 

Lucien picks up my train of thought, “And Elain has made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing to do with me.” he says to Feyre, who gives him an apologetic glance.

I look over to see Lu smiling down at me, “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and we get along well. I’m at my happiest when I’m with him,” I smile back at him before turning to my brother and Feyre once more. “Lucien is a good male, he’s kind and he takes care of me. I think we could make eachother really happy.” 

Lucien tugs on my hand to bring my attention back to him, “And y/n is a beautiful, smart, and charming woman. Any male would be lucky to call her his wife, including me.” his lips curl upward, and I can’t tear my gaze away from him. 

I had begged the Cauldron all my life to bring someone into my life who would choose me. I used to think that person was Azriel, but after all my years of flirting with him and trying to get the bond to snap I was only ever met with nothing. Yet here Lucien was, standing in my brother's office, saying I choose you. 

Feyre’s voice broke my train of thought and pulled both of our attentions, “Aww, Rhys they're so sweet,” she beamed grasping onto my brother's arm. 

Just like I had prophesied, I saw my brother's hard exterior melting under the ‘ooos’ and ‘ahhhs’ of his beloved High Lady. He stood from his desk and I felt Lu tense beside me as we both waited with bated breath for what the High Lord was going to say next. 

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said, holding out his hand. “Welcome to the family.” 

The tension in the air dissipated as everyone in the room smiled, Feyre was practically jumping for joy. Lucien gave Rhys a firm handshake over his desk and I could see that while the proposal was unexpected for my brother, he wasn’t unhappy. He knew just as well as I did that Lucien was a good male, that he would be good to me. 

“Oh we need to start shopping for dresses right now! I’ll grab Mor and Nesta and we can go out! We’re going to need a cake too!” Feyre squealed, hugging me tightly. 

“Uhh that’s the other thing,” I said hesitantly, not wanting to step on my sister-in-law's happiness. “We didn’t want a big wedding.” 

“We actually wanted to elope, and we want you two to be our witnesses.” Lucien picked up my sentence.

“Oh of course we will,” Feyre smiled looking at both of us before wrapping her arm around Rhys. 

Rhys looked more troubled than he did moments ago, like the idea of an elopement didn’t sit right with him. However if he did feel that way, he didn’t voice it. Not when the idea seemed to excite Feyre so. 

“When is the date?” Feyre inquired. 

I looked to Lucien who was already looking to me for an answer. We had never given the date a thought. I shrugged my shoulders at him, hoping he might take the lead. His eyes twinkled with mischief, it was that same look he gave me before he did something like wipe whipped cream on my nose or use his flames to singe my bum as he slapped it.

“The day after tomorrow,” he said with certainty. 

“The day after tomorrow?” the whole room gawked. 

Lu turned back to me, “Yes. We’ve never been conventional, why start now,” he gushed giddy with infectious excitement. 

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face, “Okay,” I giggled. “the day after tomorrow.”

He leaned down to scoop me up in his arms spinning me around the room, Feyre’s laughter and my own bouncing off the ornate wood paneled walls. 

“But what will you wear?” Feyre asked, seemingly trying to figure out something in her head already. 

I pondered the idea myself before it hit me like a ton of bricks, “Oh I can wear mothers dress!” I exclaimed looking at Rhys.

“I’m sure that’s what she would’ve wanted,” Rhys smiled, tossing his arm around his excited wife. 

We parted ways with the promise of seeing them later this evening at family dinner. An event I typically despised, but now? Things didn’t seem so dull. I was walking in with my fiance, instead of alone. 

Lucien and I ran down the hallways hand in hand, laughing like teenagers getting away with sneaking out. 

“I can’t believe I just did that,” he laughed, backing me against a wall. 

“Did what?” I ask, out of breath from running. 

He leaned in close to my ear, “Told your brother how thoroughly I’ve been fucking you,” he smirks pressing a kiss beneath my ear. 

“Well you didn’t use language that graphic,” I snicker while playing with the ends of his hair. 

He pulls his head back from my neck to give me that mischievous look again, “I can always go back in there and tell him,” he teases. 

“Or…” I say low in his ear, “you could just show me.” I say suggestively. 

Lu’s lips curl upward brushing against the shell of my ear, “You little minx!” he growls hoisting me up, earning a squeal from me. 

“You are beautiful and amazing and charming and you are going to be my wife,” he gushes, placing a kiss on my lips for every tender word. 

Lu smiles at me before titling my chin up to meet his lips, the kiss warm and sweet. His hands pull my waist closer to him, and I bring my own from his chest to loop around his neck. He presses his forehead. 

This was the start of a new chapter, one where I was somebody’s first choice. One where I was chosen and loved. One where I didn’t come home to an empty home, or show up to solstice parties without a date. One where I had someone to kill the spiders in the house for me, one where I was chosen. 

As Lucien held me close to him, I could sense he felt all the same things too. It was a new start for both of us. A chance to be happy. 

That evening after much celebration from Lucien and I that involved some time between the sheets…and the shower… and the living room floor…we finally dressed for dinner. 

Dinner with the family was typically a laid back affair, it was the one time a week we could all see one another. Rhys would even make sure no one had any assignments during that time so that there were no interferences. My dress was nice yet laid back, nothing like what I would wear for starfall or a ball. 

Lucien came up behind me as I put on my earrings in the stand up mirror.

“You look lovely, my wife looks lovely,” he said, taking the earring back from my hand to place it on himself. Kissing my bare shoulder in the process. 

“I’m not your wife yet,” I smile, turning in his arms. 

“Maybe so but you’re going to be,” he reminds me, kissing my nose. 

“The day after tomorrow,” I say 

“The day after tomorrow,” he repeats back. “Now let’s go before our tardiness causes your brother to call off the wedding.” 

I laugh taking his hand and walking down the townhouse steps into the brisk night air. I checked to see that I had moved my impromptu engagement ring to my right hand before we got too far away. While I was excited about marrying Lu it was important to me that the wedding stay an elopement.  I wasn’t sure how the rest of the family would react. Despite our good humor and book swapping, Nesta may choose to rip off my head for taking her sister’s mate and who knew how Cassian might feel about me marrying a Vanserra, even if it was Lucien. 

As Lu held open the gate to the townhouse for me, the same way he did on starfall a year ago. I was sure that I had made the right choice. Not just in my future life partner, but in keeping the engagement secret for just a few days more. 

The family gathered around the table, each one of them placing a dish in the center to be shared. During dinners we didn’t like to have the maids do all the work, per the request of the Archeron sisters. They said it felt more homey if we all pitched in on the work and they were right. Lu and I parted ways and I gave Feyre and Nesta a warm hug before continuing to set the table. It seemed everyone was in high spirits as even when I passed by Rhys to lay down the potatoes he gave me a kiss on the forehead. 

Maybe everyone was in a good mood for once, or maybe things just seemed lighter because I didn’t walk in here by myself tonight. 

Dinner moved quickly, and Lucien sat next to me as he normally did, both of us thick as thieves kicking each other's feet all night. It was impossible to keep such a happy secret from the family, but it was also insanely fun. Every now and then I caught a knowing glance from Rhys or Feyre. But whenever Rhys looked at me his next glance was always to Azriel, who didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

When the meal was over we all took our goblets of wine and moved to the living room to drink, laugh and tell war stories, as we always did. Normally this was when I would make some half-assed excuse as to why I had to leave. The last thing I wanted to see was a bunch of mated couples all over each other. My heart still panged as Elain chose to sit on the arm of Azriel’s chair, but it was lightened by the brush of Lucien’s fingers against the back of my head as he went to sit across the room next to Rhys and Feyre. 

It wasn’t until Cassian started talking about going to war with the Valkyries for the one millionth time that I decided that I definitely needed more wine for this story. So I stood and marched my way into the kitchen with the promise of bringing back a couple bottles for everyone. 

The walk-in wine cellar in the kitchen was cold, so when I turned around with two bottles in hand and bumped into a very warm chest I nearly yelped. 

“Shhh it’s just me,” Lucien grinned, taking the two bottles from my hand to place on the counter beside us. 

“Lu you scared the shit out of me,” I say in a hushed tone as he hoists me onto the countertop. 

“I’m tired of watching them all cuddle up to one another in there, I want to cuddle up to you as well,” he smirked, placing kisses all over my neck. 

“Down boy,” I giggle, acting like I don’t feel the exact same way. I feel his lips curl against my skin as I run my hands through his hair.

“This is only going to get worse once you’re my wife,” he smiles, placing a slow kiss on my lips. 

“WIFE?!” 

I whip my head around from where I’m sitting on the counter to see Azriel standing in the doorway, a look of pure betrayal written all over his face. Lucien’s hands found my waist pulling me off the counter so that my feet were firmly on the floor. 

“You’re marrying him?!” Azriel shouts again and suddenly a smaller figure appears behind him, swathed in light pink and roses. 

“He’s my mate you can’t just take him,” Elain exclaims, seemingly coming into her own. 

I immediately see red at her words, completely disregarding Azriel in the room. Elain who wouldn’t give Lucien the time of day. Elain who knowingly entered an unethical relationship with Azriel and flaunted it. Elain who barely glanced at the pearl earrings Lucien had bought her for solstice. She had the gall to claim him, after the way she treated him.   

“Take him?” I scoff. “You don’t even want him.” I shout back, the words coming off a little harsher than expected. 

“She’s right y/n, Lucien is her mate,” Azriel interjected looking down at me, as if this situation didn’t benefit him in every way. Gods he would just do anything to make that girl happy. 

“That’s deft coming from you shadowsinger,”  Lucien snickered disdainfully, cocking his head at the spymaster. 

Azriel bristled, “What's that supposed to mean?” he snarled. 

I put a hand on Lucien’s chest to get him to back down, “It doesn’t matter, we’re happy. Is it really your mission to make everyone in this court miserable but yourself Elain?”

“HEY!” Azriel barked, taking a step towards me, his shadows rising behind him. 

Before he can get a step closer Lucien grabs his arm, “Easy,” he hissed, but Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave my scared form. 

Never in my life had Azriel raised his voice at me in such a manner. While I wanted to say I was unphased, the outburst had scared me.  As soon as he noticed my reaction to his behavior, a realization seemed to dawn on him, and he quickly stepped back.

“You’re taking my mate, was there a way I was supposed to react?” Elain sneered just as snarky as ever, as if this was just a cat fight among the females. 

The red I saw turned to crimson as I realized once more what she was doing. She didn’t want Lucien because she loved him. She wanted him because she felt entitled to him, she wanted both of them. My mate and hers. 

“You take my mate, I’ll take yours!” I seethed the words spilling out of me like venom, unstoppable and poisonous to those in the room. 

Elain’s eyes widened and I realized that the secret that I had kept for 400 years had finally come out. My stomach dropped and my blood ran cold, the world around me fading away as I discerned what I had done.  

“What did you just say?” Azriel said in disbelief, my eyes flitted over to his. 

Anger and hurt flashed in his golden eyes. I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t know what to say. I had never prepared for this. 

“Azriel I-” 

“I’m your mate?!” he sneered, his voice tinged with malice.

 I felt a scarred hand grip my upper arm as if to winnow me away but Lucien was on Azriel in an instant gripping his arm right back. 

“Get your hands off my wife,” he growled, raising his own metaphorical hackles. 

“By the looks of it she’s not your wife yet. But apparently she’s my mate so I will handle her however I please,” Azriel said, getting up in Lu’s face, but to Lucien’s credit he didn’t back down.

It was as if after 400 years the bond snapped for Az. And every urge that came with that bond had snapped in place with it. The worst part of it all was that I didn’t know how to feel.   

“That may be true but I won’t allow you to touch her in anger,” Lucien stated glowering at the shadowsinger. 

Elain and I remained speechless and unmoving as Rhysand slid into the kitchen eyes ablaze at the scene before him. 

“What the fuck is going on?” he bellowed as he saw Azriel gripping me and Lucien gripping him. 

“It seems that Lucien has decided to wed my mate,” Azriel said with a smooth calm that sounded more like a warning shot. 

“You treat her as if she was-” Lucien snarled back before Rhys cut him off. 

“That’s enough!” he shouted and it was enough for both males to let go. “All of you get out of my sight and simmer down. We can talk about this when you can behave like adults!”

I think to protest my brother's orders, but he shoots me a glare so cold, so unyielding that I find myself sinking into Lucien’s embrace. I look to Azriel who wears his disappointment in me unnervingly well before winnowing both Lucien and I back home. 

to be continued...

Part 3

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[darylssunshine]

I need ya.

Summary: Daryl helps you fall asleep after trying to fight it.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 0.7k

Era: Alexandria

A/N: I just really want Daryl cuddles and to fall asleep with him. This is purely self-indulgent.

~~~~~

It was a rare moment of peace in Alexandria. All of the residents were either safe in their houses or fast asleep in their warm beds, a luxury in a world like this. No walkers were breaking through their fortified walls, no enemies were hot on their trail and waiting to strike until morning, nothing coming through the gates to disrupt the silence. The people of Alexandria made themselves known to Rick’s group in a moment of weakness. They accepted them and let them adapt to their way of living, and Rick and the rest of the group would be forever grateful for that, no matter how long it took for them to trust the other group. These four walls separating them from the cruel outside world and provided them with a sense of safety, and Alexandria’s inhabitants had to bask in that whenever they had the chance. 

That’s what was happening now, in the house that held you and Daryl. While the autumn winds pressed on, you two were shielded and warm. A crackling fire lit up the living room while Daryl sat in the corner of the slightly tattered couch, you on his lap. His arm was resting on the subsequent arm of the couch while the other hand was playing with your hair, twirling the strands in his fingertips and occasionally scratching your scalp. Each time he did, it earned a small sigh from you nuzzled against his chest, and then earning a small chuckle from Daryl.

Today had been one of those days where Daryl got more sleep than you did. You had work that had to be done with stocking the food on account of falling behind the day before, and you were beat. The warmth of the fire combined with the warmth radiating from Daryl’s torso was slowly lulling you into a tired state, but Daryl didn’t need to know that. You wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. 

“Ya gettin’ tired, sweetheart?”

Shit.

Immediately after those words registered in your sleep-addled brain, you sat up and looked Daryl in the eyes, your own being forcefully widened so he believed your ruse. “Nope. Nope. Not one bit.”

Daryl removed the hand that was previously on your hair and moved it behind his head, slightly looking down on you. He chuckled again. “Ya sure?”

Your mouth quirked up in a smile. “Yep. Wide awake.”

“Mhm. Sure ya are.”

He placed his hand back on your scalp and started massaging it at a slow but consistent pace, his soft, blue eyes never leaving yours. Your eyes on the other hand started to get very heavy, like someone was physically pulling them down, something you couldn’t control. Daryl let out a deep chuckle. “What was tha’ about not bein’ tired?

“Shut up.” You said in a breathy manner, stubbornly still trying to look him in the eyes.

His large hand guided you to his chest again. “Get some sleep, sunshine. I’ll be here when ya wake up. Promise.” His voice was soft, but sincere. You’d believe anything he said in this state.

You nuzzled back into his chest, his words making you smile. “Your chest vibrates when you talk. It’s like a cat purring.” You rambled, your voice coated with tiredness. You said it unconsciously, your filter being almost nonexistent with you being on the verge of sleep. 

He smirked. “Oh yeah? You like it?”

“Mhm.”

“Want me to keep talkin’?”

“Mhm.”

He sighed before he continued. “Back before we found ya, I was nothin’. I was tryin’ to deal with all the shit that went down, but I didn’t handle it well. I was a mess, killin’ myself in the process. But you helped me deal with all that. You got me to open up to ya. Every time I see ya, I get like, this feelin’ in my stomach. I know, romance movie bullshit. It’s been happenin’ since the day we found ya in that cabin. And now, I feel like I can’t live without ya. I feel like I’m empty without you, fightin’ by my side. And I’m scared ‘cause that’s never happened before, and I don’t wanna mess it up. I need ya- I- I love ya, (Y/N.)” 

Daryl then heard a soft snore come from below his head. 

He blew some air through his nose in an amused manner and kissed you on the top of the head. “I'll always be there for ya, sunshine.”

[janiehellion]

Wildflower Woes

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon hates you. Or does he? And do you only love the flowers that grow in your own garden, or do you love the wild ones too? Because with eyes watching in the darkness of the night, nothing is ever quite as it seems.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: SEASON ONE!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HURT / ANGST / VOYEURISM / MASTURBATION / EXHIBITIONISM / DUB-CON / LANGUAGE / CUM PLAY / SEMI-PUBLIC

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.000

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: NON-CON ELEMENTS

MASTERLIST

As you walked behind Daryl, your eyes drifted from the road ahead to the ground beside your feet, where something caught your eye and distracted you rather fast from everything else around you—a bunch of wildflowers that had bloomed along the side of the road. They were not only the kind you’ve always loved, but they were also a small reminder of what life really was like not so long ago.

Without a second thought, you decided to step off the path, with your fingers reaching out instinctively to touch the nearest blossom in silent admiration.

"They’re still so beautiful, despite everything," you whispered quietly to yourself, not wanting Daryl to hear what you were saying. "I remember how I always thought these were just pretty-looking weeds as a kid because Mom and Dad always had them everywhere in our garden. God, I miss them so much."

Kneeling down beside the flowers, you allowed yourself a quiet moment of peace, thinking back to a few weeks ago when everything was still normal. To those weekends gardening with your mom while your dad cut the lawn or filmed you and your mother to capture memories for the future. The time when your parents were still alive.

But that short moment of peace was quickly shattered by an all-too-familiar sound that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver through your body. Spinning around, your eyes locked on the rotting figure of a walker emerging from behind a tree, and panic flooded your mind.

"Shit!" You screamed, stumbling backward and falling hard onto the ground, and in your desperate attempt to avoid being bitten, you reached for your weapon, only to realize the handle was tangled with the strap of your backpack. Despair washed over you as the walker got closer, its hands reaching out to dig its fingers into your flesh.

Just then, Daryl heard your scream. He spun around, his crossbow aimed at the walker, and in the blink of an eye, the creature dropped dead at your feet with a bolt in its head.

"What in the hell were ya doin'?" Daryl shouted, his face full of anger as he rushed over.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stumbled to your feet, your voice trembling. "I… I just noticed the flowers! I’ve always liked flowers and these—"

"Flowers? Ya nearly got yerself killed over some damn flowers?" His eyes narrowed in frustration.

Daryl’s voice was bitter, full of anger, as he grabbed your arm and pulled you roughly back onto the road. Before you could react, he stomped his boot into the patch of flowers, grinding them into the dirt in front of your eyes.

"Can't believe ya'd risk yer life for this bullshit!" He said, as he pulled his bolt out of the walker and walked back to you again.

His grip on your arm tightened, and he yanked you forward. "Look at ya," he growled, full of disgust. "Ya think this is some kinda shitty garden party? We're fightin' to survive, and yer out here actin' like a pussy over a bunch of fuckin' flowers! ‘S that what's gonna save us? A fuckin' bouquet?"

His words made you flinch, and you were unable to hold back the tears that had already formed in your eyes. When you looked back up, Daryl's face was only inches from yours.

"Oh, look at ya, so delicate and pure!" He taunted with disdain. "Yeah… Ya gonna stop this shitshow with a bouquet, huh? Gonna wave 'em around and make all the walkers bow down to yer flowery grace? What’s next, princess? A fuckin’ garden gnome to guard the damn camp?"

You tried to steady your voice, fighting back your sobs. "Listen, Daryl… Thank you for saving me, really! But I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble! I just... I just wanted a moment of beauty that reminded me of—"

"A moment of beauty? Ya think yer gonna find some happy endin' in the middle of all this shit? It's like yer livin' in a fuckin' fantasy! Newsflash: This ain’t a damn fairy tale!" Daryl cut you off with a mocking laugh.

He stepped closer, invading your personal space. "Oh, I see. Ya got this big-ass plan, don't ya? Ya gonna sprinkle some petals ‘round and charm all the dead assholes with yer pretty flowers, huh? Hell, why not add a unicorn that shits glitter while yer at it?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but his insults didn't even give you a chance. "Oh, wait, I got it! Ya gonna build a fairyland where everything is perfect and we all live happily ever after! Ya gonna knit a quilt with flowers on it, and everyone will forget 'bout the damn world fallin' apart! That’s yer big-ass plan, ain't it?"

Listening to him, you struggled more and more to hold back your sobs, but you finally found the confidence to respond. "That's not true! And I didn’t say that. I just thought—"

"Thought what?" Daryl interrupted again, his voice almost yelling in anger. "Ya think that’s gonna change anything? Get real! Out here, ya don't get to have yer shitty moments of peace. Ya either get yer head outta yer ass or ya die!"

He shook his head, scoffing at you. "Tell me! What’s next, huh? Ya gonna start singin' lullabies to the walkers? Maybe ya should bake ‘em some cookies and ask ‘em to join the damn camp," he spat out, finally turning away and leaving you standing in the middle of the road, knowing that you’d follow him one way or another.

And you did.

Aside from Daryl's few mutterings of frustration, the walk back to the camp was quiet. He didn’t offer you an apology, nor did he ask why you seemed so fascinated by those wildflowers in the first place. Instead, he simply continued to walk ahead, throwing you angry sidelong glances from time to time, while his annoyed curses and angry mumblings barely reached your ears anymore.

You allowed the minutes to pass, and just as you were beginning to accept being his supply run partner a little bit more, Daryl's voice was heard again. "Quit yer damn whinin'! Pretty flowers ain't gonna keep ya alive!" he said, his anger not yet gone. "All this fuckin' bullshit just makes ya look weak! Ain't nobody got time for that. Ya gotta get that into yer head!"

He looked ahead, and with a sudden, quick move, he lifted his boot and stomped down on another few wildflowers growing along the side of the road. Your jaw dropped in disbelief, and your eyes widened in shock and hurt. The purpose behind it—to obviously hurt you—only made you clench your fists tighter, your nails digging into your palms.

But you stayed silent; the last thing you wanted was to give him any more reason to bully you and to fuel his anger. Instead, you focused on keeping your breathing steady, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you continued to follow behind him.

As you both finally approached the quarry, Daryl’s anger reached its breaking point, and in a rather sudden decision, he stormed off the path, disappearing into the woods without another word and taking the rest of the supplies with him.

"Yeah, yeah, run away, you fucking dickhead," you whispered to yourself before putting the backpack down next to the RV. "What a damn idiot! Just because he’s got a stick up his ass doesn’t mean he is allowed to shit on everything that others care about. He thinks he’s so tough, but he’s just an asshole who’s always acting like he’s the only one who matters around here! And here I was, thinking I might actually like him and have a soft spot for him. Guess I was just kidding myself. What a fucking joke!" You continued and let the sadness come out quietly as you were left standing alone.

"Can’t believe he thinks this is some kind of, I don't know, redneck survival training. ‘Oh, look at me, I’m so tough! I’ll just destroy whatever makes you happy!’ Well, newsflash to you too, Dixon: You’re not the only one who’s capable of surviving! Jesus…"

The sudden sound of footsteps approaching stopped your rant, and you turned to see Dale walking towards you with a look of concern. "Hey there," he said with a smile, taking the backpack into his hands. "You look like you’ve had a rough time out there today. Is everything okay? Where’s Daryl Dixon?"

You hesitated for a moment, the situation that has happened before making it hard for you to find the right words. Finally, you sighed and responded.

"I couldn’t give less of a fuck where that man is right now! I mean, listen, Daryl’s been—well, he’s been a jerk, like always. He got mad about a few pretty flowers that I found. You know, the wild ones that I showed you the other day when you were talking with Shane? Well, Daryl ended up stomping all over them because he had to save me from a walker, since the flowers distracted me and nearly got me killed. And now he’s just gone off into the woods without a word. He even took the rest of the supplies we’ve found with him. Can you believe that, Dale?"

"Oh, yes, I do remember the flowers; very nice to look at. My wife would’ve loved them as well, believe me," Dale’s eyes studied you as he listened to you, trying to understand what had happened, "but I’m sorry to hear about what has happened. Sure, Daryl’s got a lot of—let’s call it rough and tough edges. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon with the supplies; don’t you worry about that."

His words and warm smile helped to calm you down a little. "Yeah, I guess you’re right," you sighed, feeling a little better. "Thanks, Dale. I just needed to let off some steam. And maybe Daryl's right, some of those flowers weren’t meant to survive this cruel world…"

Dale nodded once more but looked slightly concerned because of your answer, though he decided not to address it, nor did he press any further. "Anytime. Now, let’s get these supplies sorted. I bet that Daryl will calm down soon enough as well."

You couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "Yeah, maybe. And pigs might fly too."

Soon enough, you were busy sorting the supplies when you heard footsteps approaching again. This time, it was Daryl who did come back from the woods, but his face showed that he was still annoyed.

"Here," he snapped, tossing his bag of supplies onto the ground. "Forgot to leave 'em here. Don’t expect any flowers or fairy dust."

You looked up from the supplies, sighing loudly. "Yeah, thanks," you answered quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. "I guess it’s good you’re back. The camp needs those supplies."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Ya know, if ya spent less time daydreamin' and more time focusin' on what’s important, then we wouldn’t have to deal with this shit."

"Is that so?" You shot back, struggling to stay calm. "And what exactly is ‘important’ to you, Daryl? Destroying everything that reminds people of normalcy?"

He snorted at you. "Normalcy? Ain’t no such thing in this world no more. If ya can’t handle that, maybe ya should stay behind."

His words hurt, but you forced yourself not to fuel his anger. "Well, maybe if you weren’t so hell-bent on destroying everything that might still matter to others, you’d see that sometimes people need a bit of hope, however small."

Daryl stared you down. "Hope? Hope won’t keep ya alive. Only havin' a pair of balls and havin’ a clear head will do that. And from where I stand, ya got none of that."

"I guess we’ve all got our own way of coping with this new world," you said quietly, not really knowing what to answer him anymore. 

His eyes studied you. "Copin'? Ya think I’m just ‘copin'’ here? I’m tryna keep us alive, and all ya do is mess 'round with flowers like it’s some kind of goddamn gardenin' hobby."

You took a deep breath. "I’m just trying to hold on to a bit of what makes me human. I know it might seem pointless to you at the moment, but those flowers... they remind me of something good, something that I miss."

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Well, good for ya. Maybe ya can save the world with yer damn flowers, while the rest of us are riskin' our asses."

Before you could respond, Andrea approached you, having overheard the conversation. "Hey, is everything alright?" She asked, her eyes looking from you to Daryl.

"Just a little disagreement," you answered, forcing a smile. "Nothing we can’t handle."

Daryl took a step back and shook his head. "Yeah, well, I’m done wastin' my time here. Gonna get some rest."

As he walked away, Andrea rolled her eyes and turned to you with a smile. "Don’t let him get to you. He's an asshole. But you’re doing the right thing by holding on to what makes you feel human. You’ll get used to him eventually."

Later that evening, as the campfire was burning down slowly and the rest of the group went to go to sleep after their meal, you sat quietly on the side, lost in your thoughts. Daryl had withdrawn from the group, sitting alone by a tree as he stared into the flames from afar. Eventually, you stood up and walked off to your tent, but the next morning, a flower appeared by the entrance, carefully placed where it was visible but not too obvious.

"Is he for real?" You said to yourself, not really sure why he'd even continue to make fun of you like this in the first place.

While you were helping with camp chores a short time later, you spotted Jacqui kneeling by the water, washing the clothes. Taking the chance to get some answers, you approached her.

"Hey, Jacqui," you began, trying to sound neutral. "I found this wildflower in front of my tent. Any idea who might be leaving them? I don't know if Andrea told you, but I had a problem with Daryl yesterday, and I thought he left the flower there just to keep on making fun of me."

"Of course Andrea told me, how come you think she wouldn’t? You can’t keep secrets around here!" Jacqui looked up, laughing out loud. "But come on, are you for real? You think it was Daryl Dixon? Really? Come on, that's too funny."

You blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "Wait, you think it’s funny that I’m even considering Daryl after him acting like a total dickhead? I just thought—"

Jacqui laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh, come on. Daryl? Why should he continue to make fun of you like that? I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him to throw a beer can at your head, or leave a skinned squirrel in front of your tent or even under your pillow, but flowers? You're overthinking things. Honestly, I'd bet it's Shane."

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "Shane? Seriously? That’s what you think? But Daryl literally bullied me because of them."

Jacqui stood up, stretching her arms. "So, what? I’m just saying that sometimes it’s better not to overthink things, especially when it comes to the Dixon brothers. There's nothing that'd benefit him in mocking you any further. Anyway, I’ve got clothes to get back to." With that, Jacqui wandered off, leaving you confused and a bit embarrassed.

"Hey! It’s not like I expect him to start a flower shop anytime soon, okay? It’s just super weird!" You shouted after her, shaking your head slightly, before you caught sight of Daryl from a distance, kneeling over his crossbow. The sight of him—mumbling to himself and clearly busy with whatever he was doing—irritated you, and you decided it was time to confront him directly.

"Daryl, can we talk for a second?" You finally asked and approached him hesitantly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Whaddaya want, woman?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady despite the frustration you felt about him still being angry with you. "I found this flower this morning. Right by my tent."

"Yeah? And what’s that gotta do with me?" Daryl’s eyes narrowed, his tone defensive.

"I just thought that maybe you’d know something about it. I mean, I didn’t think it was a coincidence, since the flower is like the same from—" You started, but he didn't let you finish.

"Hell, I dunno nothin’ ‘bout those damn flowers. Ya think I’m runnin’ ‘round playin’ flower fairy for ya now or what? It wasn't me. Keep dreamin'," Daryl cut you off, his jaw tightening. 

His voice was harsh, his tone dismissive. "Just stop pissin’ me off; yer just lookin’ too much into shit. It’s just flowers. Quit tryna make somethin’ outta nothin’."

Your frustration was growing, and you took a step closer. "I’m just trying to understand. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to understand something. Look, it doesn’t make sense for this flower to just—"

Before you could finish, Daryl cut you off again. "Hell, just drop it! Got enough problems without ya comin’ at me with this bullshit. Ain’t in the mood for yer crap no more."

Just then, Shane appeared with a wide smile on his face. "Hey there," he said, leaning against a nearby tree. "I couldn’t help but notice you looking a bit stressed. You up for some fishing? Could use some company, if you’re interested, that is."

You glanced between Shane’s big smile and Daryl’s scowling face, and with a small nod, you agreed. "Yeah, that actually sounds nice. I could definitely use a break right now. And it’d be nice to eat some fish every now and then."

Shane’s smile widened. "Perfect! We’ll have a great time, I’m sure of it; even if we don’t catch anything, it’ll still be fun. I’ll go get everything ready and come back to get you when I’m done."

"Why don’t ya both just try to drown while fishin’ then? I’m sure ya’d both do a great job at it," Daryl suddenly mumbled, turning back to his bag.

"Excuse me? What was that? What did you just say?" You asked, trying to keep your voice calm, but your confusion was obvious as you watched Shane walk away. "And what the hell are you even doing there in the first place, Daryl?"

"None of yer damn business," he snapped back at you with annoyance. "Maybe ya should spend less time bein’ a pain in the ass and more time doin’ somethin’ useful. Like catchin’ more than just one damn pitiful fish with that Romeo ya got over there."

You shook your head, feeling your frustration boil over. "You think you’re the only one who cares about survival? We’re all trying to get by, Daryl. But as a team! Together, as a group of survivors! And you? You’re just being an asshole."

Daryl’s gaze hardened. "Oh, that so? And what’s yer excuse for bein’ a pathetic, whiny mess? Thinkin’ yer entitled to shit? Get over yerself."

Before you could respond, Shane reappeared with some of the fishing gear. He then noticed Daryl’s bag next to his crossbow and raised an eyebrow. "Thistles? What the hell are you gonna do with thistles, Dixon? Prick us to death?"

"Guess we’ll be havin’ a fancy-ass thistle salad for dinner. Real gourmet shit," Daryl answered sarcastically. "Ya can eat parts of 'em, if ya so keen on knowin', but I bet ya knew that already, ain’t that so officer fancy-pants?"

Shane’s face turned serious as he glanced between you and Daryl. "Dixon, you got a problem with something? ‘Cause you’re acting like a real jackass for no goddamn reason at all!"

Daryl turned back to his bag. "Nah, just tired of watchin’ ya’ll pretend to be so high and mighty. Don’t need no charity fishin’ trip from ya, Shane."

Shane’s jaw clenched slightly, but he tried to sound calm. "Funny, Daryl, really funny. Maybe you should take a look at yourself before you start a fight you can’t win."

Daryl’s expression grew darker. "Ain’t here to be ya damn buddy, Walsh. Got my own shit to deal with, so why don’t ya just keep yer damn opinions to yerself?"

"Alright, alright. You do you, Dixon," Shane answered, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile as he looked at you again. "Come on, let's go fishing then; I’ll ask Jim to be on the lookout in the meantime."

You watched Shane walk away, then turned back to Daryl, who was now looking at the thistles in his bag.

"Great, really great. That went well," you sighed, shaking your head, but Daryl didn’t respond and instead continued to fumble with the thistles. You soon walked away, joining Shane by the water. 

"Let’s get this set up," he said, handing you a fishing rod. "We might as well make the best of it."

As the time went by, the conversation drifted to other topics. Shane talked about his past life, even sharing police stories that made you smile despite yourself.

"Thanks for this," you soon said. "It’s nice to get away from the group a little, even if it isn’t far, and just... be."

Shane nodded, focusing on his line. "Yeah, I figured you could use a break. Daryl’s got a way of being a pain in the ass."

"I guess that’s one way to put it," you laughed back. “But he isn’t the only one around who isn’t very great to get along with. The real pain in the ass around here is Ed, and that’s a fact.”

“Ed, yeah, don’t remind me. But you do realize that talking about Ed would be a pain in the ass just as much, don’t you think?” He smirked, casting his line again. "But speaking of Dixon, you know, it’s actually funny. Because I’ve seen that asshole sneaking around your tent more than once. Creepy as hell if you ask me."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait, wait, wait... What are you talking about? What do you mean? Daryl Dixon? What? When?"

Shane shrugged casually. "Well, I’ve already seen him lurking around your tent when you first got here weeks ago, like he’s some kind of damn stalker. Even seen him hide behind some of the cars at night. Also quite funny, because Jim was the one who caught him near the RV first, since he’s more or less the mechanic around here. Did you know that being an auto mechanic was Jim’s job? Who would’ve guessed?"

You frowned at him, processing this new information. "Shane, could you please stop trying to change the damn topic for a moment? This isn’t about Jim right now! Just tell me if you’re serious about Daryl sneaking around my tent!"

"Relax, relax! But yeah," Shane laughed and shook his head. "I mean, Daryl’s always been a bit of a freak, but that... that was something else. Fucking creep."

You bit your lip, feeling confused. "I don’t know, Shane. I mean, sure, he’s rough around the edges, like Dale pointed out before too, but..."

"But? But what?" Shane asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You hesitated, then sighed. "It’s a little stupid, okay? But when I first got here, I kind of had a fleeting thing for him. But not for long; I mean, I didn’t know anybody around here; you were all just strangers, so of course I didn’t know what he’s actually like."

Shane’s face quickly showed disbelief and a bit of anger. "You’re shitting me, right? That piece of shit who literally told us to drown? You had a crush on him?"

You shook your head, feeling quite embarrassed. "No, listen, it wasn’t exactly a crush! Please, don't call it a crush, okay? I simply thought there was more to him, you know? Maybe under all that anger, there’s someone who… cares."

Shane shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight that you could see his muscles twitch while he was gritting his teeth. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That hillbilly dipshit? He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, just like his brother Merle. And now he’s got you thinking he’s some kind of misunderstood hero? That piece of shit couldn’t even fit into the anti-hero category if he wanted to! I already told Lori and Carol to keep Carl and Sophia away from him and his brother! Because they’re both a bad influence!"

"It’s not like that, Shane! I know he’s very difficult, but..." You started, but he cut you off once more.

"But nothing!" Shane snapped. "God, you sound just like Dale! Please now, just listen to me. You deserve better than that. Someone who actually gives a damn about you. Not some freaking weirdo who creeps around your tent at night. I know that I should’ve told you sooner, and I’m sorry. But you think Daryl’s going to change just because Merle’s probably dead? Nah. He’s just going to keep treating you and all of us like shit. But I’m here, and I actually care about you and the rest of us. And I did care right from the start."

You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed by his words. "Shane, please, this really is turning into an awkward conversation right now. I just need some time to think and not a motivational coach with a shotgun and a fishing rod."

"Fine. But just remember what I said. Daryl’s not the guy you think he is." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "And you know what? The two of you are a perfect pair of fuckin’ clichés. The tough redneck guy and the naive dreamer princess. It’s pathetic."

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue the conversation. "Okay, okay, I got it! Stop! I meant to ask you a different question anyway! About a flower I found by my tent. Did you leave it there for me?"

Shane shook his head. "Me? Leaving you a flower? No. Don’t have time for that. I have to keep this group safe, after all."

You sighed, feeling a bit of relief. "I know, I know, it's just that... Jacqui thought it might've been you. Guess she was wrong."

Shane shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to talk any further. "Yeah, well, let’s just finish up here and head back."

A short time later, you and Shane packed up your gear and headed back to the camp, where the rest of the group, apart from Daryl, was already sitting around the campfire and talking. about the usual things, all the while you couldn’t stop thinking about what Shane had told you as you stared into the fire.

And as the night finally fell over the Atlanta camp, Daryl found himself in the shadows and lost in thought. He had withdrawn from the group throughout the rest of the day, thinking about how Shane and your fishing trip had annoyed him and left him feeling more than just pissed.

He moved quietly through the trees, his steps almost making little to no sound while his mind was full of conflicting thoughts, each one more chaotic than the last. He was still angry with himself over everything that had happened—his rage towards you, Shane’s arrogant attitude, and his own pushed-away emotions that he couldn't really ignore.

Standing by the edge of your tent, he looked around to make sure he was alone and out of sight before he crouched down, pulling out a small bundle from his pocket—another wildflower, the exact kind that you liked so much.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," he mumbled to himself and snorted. "Here I am, sneakin' 'round like some kind of goddamn lunatic."

He put it gently on the ground, just near the entrance of your tent, where you had to notice it one way or another. His fingers moved along the petals of the flower as if it could somehow help him feel better with his guilt. "Goddamn it, Daryl," he whispered to himself. "Ya really fucked it all up, like ya always do. Stompin' on 'em flowers like a fuckin' idiot. What were ya even thinkin'?"

His eyes narrowed as he remembered how he had responded and how he had used his insults and rage to try to push you away. "Ya didn’t mean it," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Ya were just so pissed off. Shane’s up her ass all day, and ya had to be the one who’s had to do somethin'. Hell, she's gonna think it was him now anyway, with the way he’s been actin' 'round her, that's for damn sure."

He stood up, avoiding stepping on the flower. "But ya know what? It ain’t 'bout him. 'S 'bout yerself, ya fuckin' idiot. Ya can’t just keep watchin' her and expectin' her to see ya for the piece of shit ya really are."

He looked around when he heard a noise, seeing you coming from a distance, and quickly moved to hide behind a nearby tree. His heart was racing in his chest; adrenaline and shame were rushing through his body, but he couldn’t let you see him; he couldn’t let you know that he was here, after all.

Daryl crouched down low, pressing his back against the bark of the tree he was leaning against. "Every damn night," he whispered quietly, "watchin’ her shadow. Shit, she doesn’t know. Fuckin’ hell, if she knew... I’m a goddamn creep. But I can’t stop. I just—I need to see her. Need to know she’s there."

His eyes followed you as you got closer, but he didn’t move. He was observing you and watching to see if you would notice the flower immediately, or if you wouldn’t until the next morning.

"She’s gotta know it’s me," Daryl thought, his mind racing and his body beginning to sweat all of a sudden. "She’s suspicious already. Can’t let her know the real reason why. She’d hate me for it."

His knuckles went white as he clenched his fists tightly. "I’m a fuckin’ idiot. That’s what I am. Tryin’ to make it right with damn flowers, but I’m still the asshole who’s watchin’ her like a damn perv. She’s got no idea," he whispered to himself again. "No fuckin’ clue what’s really goin’ on. Hell, if anyone 'round here knew, they’d run me outta camp. Can’t have that. Don’t want her to know; don’t want anyone to know."

"Why’d ya let things go this far?" He continued to tell himself. "Why’d ya let yerself get so fuckin' close to her? Ya think she’s gonna understand why yer such a fuckin' creep? Fuck, think again."

As you opened your tent, Daryl's eyes were watching you with nervousness. Even though he knew it was wrong, he was unable to accept the fact that he had been watching you most of the time at night, unable to take his eyes off your tent.

"Ain't gonna make excuses," he muttered. "Been an asshole, and I know it. Been watchin' her—sometimes even more than I should. Fuckin' hate myself for it. Every damn time I see her, she reminds me that I’m a damn bastard, and I can’t stand it."

Thoughts of how he had treated you kept coming back again and again to his mind. "I act like I don’t give a shit, but I do. Hell, I care more than I wanna admit. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so goddamn hard on her. Dunno. Maybe I thought it’d keep me from feelin'... this way."

Daryl stayed right where he was, watching you leave your tent open as you eventually got inside. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. "This ain't right. She deserves better than this. Deserves someone who’s not a fuckin' creep. Can’t help it. I keep comin' back here, leavin' these stupid fuckin' flowers, hopin' she might see some part of me that’s not completely fucked up."

He sighed, feeling his thoughts pressing down on him. "Yer a mess, Dixon. And ya know it. Yer leavin' flowers to try to make up for yer own damn behavior, and it ain't ever gonna be enough."

Upon entering your tent, you did notice the flower that was lying by the entrance. In fact, the flower was too familiar, and the thought of Daryl lurking around nearby made you shiver, but you didn’t acknowledge the flower directly. Rather, you purposefully chose to ignore it because Shane's remarks regarding Daryl had made you feel a little uneasy, which you could not quite shake, but it also somehow excited you to no end.

"Alright, let’s make this good, and let’s see if he really is sneaking around here," you then murmured to yourself with a smirk on your lips as you thought about your plan. "I’m gonna give him a show he won’t forget anytime soon."

You began to undress slowly, your fingers sliding over your skin as you glanced at the open gap of the tent, a deliberate choice to keep it ajar.

"Is this what you want, Daryl?" You whispered to yourself as you pulled off your shirt and slid your jeans down. "Do you want to see me like this?"

With every piece of clothing that you let fall to the ground, the blush on your cheeks turned redder. The thought of him possibly watching you from the shadows, all hidden and quiet, made you shiver with excitement and nervousness, because of the other dangers that might be hidden in the shadows. “Don’t think about anything else right now; I’m safe. I’m safe.”

Your fingers fumbled with the hooks of your bra, and you let it fall from your shoulders before you squeezed your breasts with your hands, the feeling of your fingertips brushing over your hardening nipples making you moan. "Look at me," you murmured, "see how I’m touching myself, how I’m getting so fucking wet because of you right now."

Your hand slid down your stomach, your fingers sliding into your panties, with the wetness of your pussy making you gasp as you started to rub your clit in slow circles. "You like this, don’t you? Watching me at night, knowing I’m thinking of you?"

You soon pulled your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, showing yourself off completely before you laid down and spread your legs, giving a full view of your wet pussy. With two fingers, you traced the outer folds before slipping them inside, letting out a quiet moan. "I know you’re out there," you whispered, "watching every fucking move I make."

As you began to fuck yourself slowly, your other hand continued to pinch and tease your nipples. "I can almost feel your eyes on me," you mumbled, "watching as I fuck myself. Is it turning you on, Daryl? I bet you're already so fucking hard."

You added another finger inside, curling them slightly to stretch yourself more and tease your G-spot with each thrust. "I bet you’re dying to feel what this is like," you taunted quietly, "to be so so fucking deep inside me right here, right now."

Your fingers moved faster, your hips moving in time with the thrusts of your fingers, and you were already getting closer to the edge just by thinking about the fact that Daryl was probably watching you. "I bet you’re imagining how fucking tight I’d be around you," you moaned. "I know you’re just as fucking turned on as I am."

Among the trees, Daryl remained hidden in the shadows. His eyes were locked on you, unable to look away even as his heart pounded violently in his chest. The way your fingers moved over your breasts, the playful, almost desperate way you touched your hard nipples—it drove him wild, and the image of you parting your pussy and pushing your fingers into yourself was nearly unbearable. Every little movement you made seemed to burn itself into his mind.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mumbled while his gaze shifted a bit as he attempted to stand up from his position without making a sound. He forced himself to remain motionless, but his hand went almost automatically to his zipper.

The simple sight of you, all naked, completely defenseless, and so vulnerable, was making him lose his mind. He could see how your body tensed and arched with every touch, and his eyes tracked every movement of your fingers as they slid in and out of your pussy.

"Fuck, not again; why’m I doin' this?" Daryl grumbled to himself, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock inside his pants. "This ain’t right. She’s right there, and I’m just—fuck!"

He glanced down at his own body, his cock pushing hard against his pants. It wasn't easy to ignore the pulsing need that was building up inside him—a need that seemed to only grow with every quiet moan you let out. His heart was racing, and he could feel the sweat starting to run down his forehead.

Daryl’s fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants; he was trying to calm himself down at first, but the sight of you getting yourself off was making it nearly impossible to think straight. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he muttered again, struggling to keep his breathing steady. "Ya can’t just give in. Not yet. Ya gotta keep control."

He watched you spread your legs wider, your fingers moving faster now, and it was all he could do to keep himself from making any noise. His eyes locked onto the way your body responded—how your hips bucked with each thrust of your fingers.

"Look at her. She’s so fuckin' beautiful," Daryl let out quietly. "So damn hot, and here I am, just watchin'. Like some sick fuckin' perv."

With a quiet, frustrated growl, he tried to regain control of himself, his hands clenching more tightly. Even though his cock was begging for attention, he was unable to let himself go.

"Keep it together, Dixon," he told himself, his voice trembling. "Yer not gonna just—give in. Not yet. Not like this. She’s... she’s right there. Goddamn it! Fuck!"

But Daryl's control was breaking fast, each breath that he took only making it harder to keep his impulses in check, and it was pushing him past the point of no return. The temptation was just too great, and he couldn't control himself any longer. His hands, which had been clenched tightly into fists, now finally moved to undo the zipper of his pants.

His cock sprang free, the sight of it being so hard making him shudder, and the moment his hand wrapped around it, he let out a quiet groan.

"Goddamn it," he mumbled, his voice full of frustration and lust as he started to stroke himself slowly. "She's gonna fuckin' kill me."

He couldn’t help but imagine your hands being on him—almost in the same way that you were touching yourself. He could hear your every moan, every breath, every whimper, and it only made him grip his cock tighter, his strokes becoming faster and more needy.

"I bet ya like that, don’t ya?" He grumbled to himself. "I bet ya fuckin' know I’m here."

It was impossible for him to ignore how badly he wanted to be the one touching you, to be the one making you sigh and moan for him.

"Jesus," he panted out and gasped. "Ya just keep fuckin' doin’ that, don’t ya, princess? Fuckin' hell..."

Struggling to remain silent, his free hand felt for the tree next to him, and he pressed it against the bark to steady himself. Though he was getting close to the edge and the tip of his cock was coated with pre-cum, he was determined not to cum just yet.

"Damn it, Dixon," he hissed at himself. "Look at ya, gettin' off to this all over again. Yer a fuckin' mess. Fuckin' pathetic."

There was still a part of him that wanted to stop, and he battled the shame and guilt that was building up and rising within him. But as your moans grew slightly louder and as you suddenly whispered his name into the darkness, it only pushed him further into his own desperate need.

"Hell’s she sayin'?" Daryl mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus and concentrate on your voice. "Shit, she’s sayin' my fuckin' name..."

The sound of his name on your lips, even if it was only a silent whisper, made his cock twitch and pulse, and his strokes became more urgent with the intense need to finally cum.

"Fuckin' hell," he growled, his breathing coming out even more uneven. "She's gonna make me lose my shit. Just... just keep talkin', princess."

The way you were saying his name, the thought of you knowing he was watching, made it impossible for him to stay still. Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer. He stepped closer, his throbbing cock in hand, and let out a growl to make you notice him as he slipped inside your tent. "Ya really thought ya could just tease me like this?"

With your fingers still buried deep inside of you, your eyes snapped open. "Daryl?" Even though you knew that he was watching you, you let out a gasp, and your voice trembled slightly.

"Yeah," he said, taking another step closer. There was something else that turned him on even more than just the shock he could see in your eyes. "Thought ya could put on a private show for me, huh?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes never leaving his as he stood directly over you, his cock still hard and pulsing with every stroke of his hand. "A show?" You asked, your voice sounding a little shaky.

"Damn right. A show," he answered with a small smirk. "With me seein’ everythin'. Couldn’t stay away."

You pulled your fingers out of your pussy and tried to stand up, but Daryl pushed you back down with one of his boots on your shoulder. "Stay where ya are," he growled. "Don’t ya dare stop."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as you looked up at him, your heart racing. The realization about the rawness of the moment hit you, and you nodded slowly, your fingers sliding back into your pussy as you lay back down in your tent. Your eyes were locked onto his, and he could see the mixed feelings of shock, excitement, and lust in your gaze.

Daryl’s hand soon moved in rhythm with yours again, his strokes becoming faster and more urgent as he watched you. The sight of you, so shameless and wet for him, made him lose himself even more. "Ya know," he said, his voice still low and rough. "Ain't thought I’d see this day. With yer all spread out like this, knowin' I’m here, watchin' ya fuckin’ yerself. 'S a damn mindfuck."

You moaned in response, your fingers working in and out of your pussy with an increasing speed of your thrusts. "And you think you can just walk in here?" You taunted back and teased him. "You think you’re gonna get what you want, Dixon?"

Daryl’s eyes never left yours, his cock throbbing with need. "Ain't just here for the damn show," he growled. "I’m here to fuckin' claim ya. Ya got that?"

Your eyes widened, and you barely held back a loud moan, your fingers pushing deeper into your pussy. "And what makes you think I’ll just let you?" You challenged him back, your eyes wandering from his cock to his face again.

"Oh, I think ya fuckin' will," Daryl said, his voice full of confidence. "'Cause I fuckin' want to. And it’s my turn to take what I want."

Every movement, every quiet moan, and every word you both whispered to each other heightened the lust and need for the both of you. Daryl’s strokes on his cock became more frantic, and he could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with every stroke, but he was determined to hold off until he had fully taken in the sight of you.

"Gonna make sure ya know who’s watchin'," Daryl said quietly. "Gonna leave my mark on ya."

He positioned himself above you, and without saying another word, he pointed his cock at you, making sure that his cum would land where he wanted it to.

"I ain't done," he growled, his eyes locked on you. "Not yet."

He took another step closer, his hand still jerking his throbbing shaft, while his other hand reached out, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you up slightly, just enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

"Do ya want me to finish like this?" He mumbled, his voice already hoarse. "Or do ya want me to make a fuckin' mess 'round here in yer tent?"

You didn’t have a chance to answer before he let go of your hair and moved his cock closer to your body again. He had seen enough, felt enough—he was on the edge and couldn’t hold it back any longer. With a low groan, he started to jerk himself off harder and faster, his eyes never leaving yours, and without warning, he came hard, his hips bucking wildly and his cum shooting out, landing across your body, most of it on your breasts and chin.

"Fuck," he muttered, still stroking his cock, but slowing down. "Look at ya. Just a fuckin' mess now."

You lay there, slowly pulling your fingers out of your pussy, your body covered with his cum. "You know," you suddenly started, your voice quiet but teasing. "You might be the first wildflower that might leave a thorn in my side."

A smirk formed itself on Daryl's lips due to the mention of the flowers, but it was quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment, and he shifted uncomfortably as he put his cock back into his pants. "Shut ya damn mouth, woman."

Without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed your head roughly by your hair, and yanked you up to meet his eyes. You couldn’t help but whimper as he was staring at you up and down, so dangerously close.

Daryl grinned at the noise you made and grabbed your neck with his other hand, the thumb going to your chin and gathering the rest of his cum that was slowly sliding down on it.

"Eat," he insisted, but before you could answer or protest in any way, he put his thumb against your lips and pushed it inside your mouth, waiting for you to suck it off.

And just as he pulled it out again, his mouth came crashing down on yours in a rough and primal kiss. It was demanding, and his teeth moved against your skin as he went down to the side of your jaw, sucking on every bit of flesh on his way down to your neck before biting down hard into it, leaving his mark.

His gaze then fell to your fingers, still glistening with the juices of your pussy, as he held you in a tight grip to keep you from falling due to your trembling legs. Slowly, teasingly, he reached out and brought your fingers to his mouth. His tongue slid over your skin, licking and sucking them off intensely, devouring every bit of what was left of you on them.

Daryl enjoyed the taste of you, and his eyes never left yours as he pulled back a little, his hand roughly grabbing your chin. "Don’t ya fuckin' forget this," he growled, letting go of you and watching as you stumbled back onto the ground in front of him before he finally turned to leave. "Yer mine in ways ya don’t even understand yet."

TAG-LIST: NONE. BECAUSE MY WRITING SUCKS.

[enviedear]

helping billy after he gets injured is so sweet to me idk

helping billy when he's injured...

don't worry nonnie, it's so sweet to me too. poor boy needs someone to stitch him back up. somehow this ended up being 1.2k words ?? this was supposed to be a drabble... idk but enjoy hurt/comfort + crush confession billy

tw— mentions of blood, a stab wound, cleaning a wound, dressing a wound, cursing (it's in every fic tbfh), confession of love, some kissin'

request

"m'sorry, honey." billy's frail voice shocks you out of your stupor. he looked like hell— pale, shakey, and bloodied.

your chair scraps against the wood floors as you bolt upward, rushing over to your friend. your hands pull his face nearer yours, studying it with frenzied worry.

"what happened billy? i thought i said no fightin' tonight." your own voice sounds strangely wild in nature— angered yet nurturing.

the tall young man falls into you, hands on your shoulders, weakly stopping himself from putting all his weight on you, "i wasn't... swear," he grimaces, right hand pulling away from you and to his left shoulder, "one o'em stabbed me. didn't know m'fucker had a knife."

"god, is it deep?" you ask, eyebrows raised with concern.

billy shifts away from you, trying to ignore the searing pain surging through his shoulder, "not deep, just hurts like hell," he says through gritted teeth. "i can handle it—had worse."

you shake your head, knowing better than to trust his nonchalant attitude when it comes to injuries, "you need to let me take a look. if it's bad, i'll have to get you to the doctor."

billy hesitates for a moment, but ultimately nods in agreement. you guide him over to a nearby table and carefully lift his shirt to inspect the wound. it's a clean stab, not too deep, but you can tell it's still going to require some attention.

"i'll need some hot water and clean rags," you say, already moving to the kitchen area. you grab a pot and fill it with water from a nearby bucket, placing it over the stove to heat up. you start to tear up a clean sheet into strips, preparing them to use as bandages.

billy watches you work, grateful for your tender touch. "you're too good to me," he whispers.

you don't respond, just focus on the task at hand. you soak one of the rags in the hot water and wring it out before placing it gently over the wound. billy hisses in pain, but you know it's necessary to prevent infection.

for the next few moments, you work diligently to clean the wound and wrap it up tightly with the makeshift bandages. billy winces and squirms occasionally, but ultimately endures the pain without a complaint.

as you finish the last of the bandaging, you glance up at billy with a small smile, "there, all done. you should be good as new in no time."

billy chuckles weakly, still gritting his teeth from the pain, "thanks, i owe you one," he says, his voice shaking slightly.

you roll your eyes, knowing billy would do the same for you if you were ever in his position, "don't mention it," you reply, "just promise me you'll take it easy for a while. no more getting into fights, okay?"

billy hums, nodding his head in agreement, "think i learned m'lesson' this time."

you both fall silent for a moment, the only sound in the small room being the crackling of the fire in the stove. you glance up at him, taking in his rugged features and the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, stark contrast to his bright blue eyes. despite the danger and uncertainty that is billy, a warm feeling spreads through your chest whenever you're near him.

without warning, billy reaches out and takes your hand in his, his eyes searching your own, "i don't say it enough, but… i appreciate everything you do f'me," he murmurs, "you're the only thing that keeps me sane in this goddamn place."

your heart skips a beat at his words, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat. you know that you shouldn't let yourself get too attached to someone like billy, as hard to pin down as the wind, but you feel yourself tethering.

you give him a small smile, trying to hide how much his words affect you, "it's nothing, really. just doing what any decent person would do." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

billy squeezes your hand gently before slowly letting go. he leans back against the wall, his eyes never leaving your face, "you're more than just a decent person, you're an angel t'me?" he says, his voice low and gravelly.

you feel your cheeks heat up at his compliment, and you look away, suddenly shy, "stop it, billy. you're talking out of your ass." you mutter, trying to lighten the mood.

he chuckles softly, the sound making your heart flutter, "m'not, i'm sweet on you." he confesses, his eyes full of something you can't quite decipher.

you can feel yourself getting lost in his gaze once again, the world around you fading away until there's only the two of you. you know that this is dangerous, that you shouldn't endear yourself to someone like billy— but you can't help but crave his touch and his attention.

without thinking, you lean forward and press your lips to his, your heart racing in your chest. for a moment, he freezes, his eyes widening in surprise, but then he responds eagerly, his hands finding their way to your waist.

the kiss is like fire, all-consuming and intense, and you can't help but lose yourself in it. you know that this is wrong, kissing an outlaw as an unmarried lady would surely land you well into public scrutiny— despite their own sins.

you can't seem to care the longer billy kisses you, slow and deep, like honey off the comb. you feel utterly entranced by him, with his tender hands, towering body, and scent of iron and whiskey.

just when you feel like you could stay like this forever, time seems to speed up again and the kiss breaks.

billy stares at you with wide eyes, pressing his forehead to yours. "i'll try to be more careful, i swear," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, "and if i ain't, you have my permission to scold me until i'm beggin' for mercy."

you laugh softly at his joke before gently pushing him away from you. you shake your head fondly and meet his gaze, sighing softly as you take in the moment.

"well then don't," you reply firmly but sweetly, a small smile on your face, "because if something happened to you and i have to patch you up again with my scant knowledge…i'll be very upset."

billy's gaze softens as he looks back at you and he reaches out to brush aside a strand of hair that escaped from its pins, "don't worry, honey," he says softly, assuring you with a gentle smile, "i'll be more wary from now on."

you grin at that and pat his hand fondly, you take one last look into each others' eyes before finally breaking the spell between the two of you.

"alright then," you say, your tone determined, "i suppose you'd better go back and ride off into the sunset before i get too upset."

billy nods, meeting your gaze once more, grin tugging at his lips before brushing off his trousers. he doffs his stetson, takes your hands in his own, and takes a step forward, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"i'll ride back over tomorrow afternoon," he promises earnestly, "and i'll bring you somethin' to show my appreciation. a gift for the angel who saved m'life."

you can't help but smile at him, brain foggy at his sweet words. you know that this could hurt both of you if anyone found out— but as long as no one does, you can savor the moments like this one.

"that sounds mighty fine." you whisper softly before giving him one last wave goodbye.

billy tips his hat to you and gives an easy grin before sauntering out of your view.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Omae: Complexity of Self-Expression and Intimacy with the Japanese “You”

(Update: I have written a follow-up to this post wherein I exhaustively examine Katsuki's "you" pronoun usage, including every time he uses omae. Please be sure to read both posts! :D)

The anime adaption of chapter 322 is rapidly approaching, so I wanna talk about something really interesting: as far as I can tell, Izuku is the only person Katsuki has ever used the pronoun omae (おまえ) towards in-canon. Furthermore, he has only used omae towards Izuku on three occasions.

The first time is after Deku vs. Kacchan 2 in chapter 120.

The second time is right after his apology in chapter 322. (Katsuki actually uses omae four times in a row in this scene.)

(We'll get to the third time later, just you wait.)

Why does Katsuki address Izuku differently in these scenes? To answer this, we’re gonna commit some language nerdery.

First, let’s be real about the fact that Japanese pronouns can be complicated. There are a ton of them. You learn the common uses—like you could say that, broadly, omae tends to be used by guys for their friends and romantic partners. But the reality is that in a high-context language like Japanese, pronouns can come across wildly differently depending on who uses it, to whom, with what tone, and in what context.

It is difficult to generalize real-life usage, so to be clear, I am talking about MHA as a piece of media. I could try to tell you that omae is rude but also friendly but also condescending but also comedic but also confrontational but also affectionate—and so on, but that wouldn’t help you understand what Katsuki’s omae to Izuku means and why it feels significant.

The thing is, Izuku and Katsuki can each say omae and mean completely different things, because their normal way of speaking tells us how to interpret their words.

When Izuku speaks, he is polite and considerate. He uses the boyish first-person pronoun boku (僕). In Japanese, avoiding second-person pronouns is the polite thing to do; you use the person’s surname and an appropriate suffix instead, and this is the tactic Izuku uses to address others. When he does say “you,” it is usually the familiar kimi (君) towards Katsuki.

We see Izuku use omae in only a few circumstances: he uses it towards himself during inner monologues when he is trying to figure out what to do or compel himself to act, and he uses it when he faces All For One.

Both of these involve what I think of as “tough talk”—Izuku talks tough to himself to push past his fears and be a hero. With AFO, he is talking to a villain, someone he has to defeat. From someone like Izuku who speaks with such politeness and humility, omae reads as aggressive and confrontational.

Katsuki, on the other hand, is always aggressive and confrontational. He uses the masculine, somewhat boastful first-person pronoun ore (俺) and the second-person pronoun temee (てめえ) towards just about everybody. Temee is an extremely rude, combative word; Japanese descriptions usually point out that it reads like fightin’ words—it’s what you’d call an opponent, someone you are confronting, challenging, or belittling. As mentioned, you’re supposed to avoid “you” words to be polite, so the fact that Katsuki whips out temee constantly and makes up insulting nicknames instead of using anybody’s real name is just like, damn, dude!

Unlike Izuku, Katsuki sounds like he is challenging everyone all the time. This means that, coming from him, omae actually seems gentler.

After Deku vs. Kacchan 2, he opens his sentence with omae, and Izuku looks startled by this.

They just had a huge, emotional fistfight, and Katsuki… isn’t addressing him as an opponent, like he always has before. For once, he is addressing Izuku not as his enemy, but his equal.

This scene is the first time Katsuki properly grapples with the truth of their mutual weaknesses and comes to an understanding about it. It leaves him frustrated and unsure, but he walks away seeing himself and Izuku as being on the same side.

Because he takes All Might's words to heart: they are two halves of what makes a hero. They need to learn from each other and push each other to truly reach their best—as rivals, not enemies.

In chapter 322, Katsuki talks Izuku through how he felt about him all these years. He goes over all the things he's had to face to see how wrong he was, to see his own weakness and Izuku's strength. The whole time, he uses the "you" word he always has: temee.

But when it comes time to tell Izuku his true feelings, he calls Izuku by his given name, apologizes, and then right away he says this:

This is a direct call-back to the core question that Katsuki posed to Izuku during Deku vs. Kacchan 2: "Is my way of admiring All Might wrong?"

The second half to that question has always been, implicitly, "Does that mean yours is right?"

Here, Katsuki acknowledges Izuku fully as All Might's successor and affirms that Izuku's path is not wrong, using omae to tell him so. And then he uses it three more times to convince Izuku to come back with them and fight together, "because saving people is how we win."

To me, omae in this scene comes across with such softness. He's speaking with more humility than we've ever seen, both in what he's conveying and his word choice. (There is a whole other conversation to be had about Katsuki's word choice for "I'm sorry," but that is for a different time.)

This omae is not just a sign that he sees Izuku as his equal, it's expressing care for him. Katsuki sacrificed his life for Izuku, telling him, "Stop trying to win this on your own." He is trying so hard to make Izuku understand: Come back, I was wrong. Come back, I care about you.

Which brings us to the third time Katsuki uses omae: chapter 362.

That's right, the infamous "Can I still catch up to you?" / "Can I still reach you?" line uses omae.

Here's the thing that's unique about this omae: it's in Katsuki's head. This is internal monologue; he isn't talking out loud to Izuku, he isn't trying to convey something to him face-to-face, he is just thinking about Izuku.

The word choice isn't for anyone else's benefit or any external purpose: this is just how Katsuki sees him.

I can't overstate how soft, vulnerable, and sincere this moment is for Katsuki. And what gets me about him thinking of Izuku as omae is, it makes me wonder, "How long has he thought of Izuku this way?"

When did Izuku stop being temee in his head?

Changing how you address someone is a big deal in Japanese. Whether it's a name or suffix change (Deku -> Izuku) or a pronoun change (temee -> omae), it represents a significant shift in the emotional dynamics of a relationship.

It crops up a lot in media as a dramatic moment of intimacy, sometimes even being a part of love confessions. This heightened drama is exactly what we see with Katsuki's apology when he calls him Izuku.

Katsuki addresses only Izuku with his given name and omae, and in the whole run of the series, he only uses omae in a few select instances. I would argue that this is really important, subtle character writing.

Looking at the scenes, at least to me, each omae reads as progressively more honest and intimate. Each time Katsuki uses it, he is reaching for Izuku. Each time, it means more.

[saphronethaleph]

Storms and Urge

Padme Amidala opened her office door, and tried to show only the smile as her reaction to her junior partner, Representative Binks.

They’d been working together for two years, now, and it was… still an experience.

“Oh, heyo there Senator!” Jar Jar said, waving, and trying to hide something behind his back. “How has yousa been?”

“The Senate is… the same as always,” Padme replied. “What are you trying to hide, Jar Jar?”

Jar Jar looked surprised. “Yousa think mesa is tryin’ to hide something?”

“I could tell by your awkward pose,” Padme replied, with a smile. “And the way the thing you’re trying to hide is almost as big as you are.”

“Aww…” Jar Jar said, then sighed and turned around. “Mesa got yousa some new guard animals!”

Sure enough, the thing Jar Jar had been carrying was a pet carrier, containing two sleepy-looking canines which each looked like they weighed about twenty pounds.

“Theysa still little!” Jar Jar declared. “Mesa accompanied some gungs on a big journey to a planet with lotsa weird plants, theysa had plenty of metal in theirsa trunks. And some of these guys got hurt, an’ the big ones are bombad nasty! But the little ones seemed nice to mesa, and they didn’t have parents no more, and… mesa thought… it’d be nice?”

The gungan’s voice got more nervous with every word as he got to the end of his explanation, and Padme looked at the canines before turning back to Jar Jar.

He was doing better puppy eyes than the actual canines.

“All right,” she said. “We’ll try them out here in the office suite, but if they become too difficult to manage we’ll have to sort out another home for them.”

“Okey-dokey!” Jar Jar said, nodding firmly.

He followed her into the suite, putting down the carrier on the floor, then opened it and took out one of the canines.

Despite his words about the adults being nasty, this one certainly seemed more sleepy than anything, yawning and flicking a short tail before padding over to the nearest couch and inspecting it.

Then it jumped up onto the couch, turned around in a circle, and sat.

“It’s a good thing we have plenty of chairs,” Padme chuckled. “Do you know what they eat?”

“Theysa liked fish,” Jar Jar provided. “An’ Tarpals helped mesa train them in house!”

That took a moment for Padme to parse, and she offered her hand to the other canine to sniff.

It made a sort of buzzing noise, tail waving, and Padme frowned.

“...what’s up with their tails?” she asked. “That doesn’t look natural.”

“Mesa thinks… they got hurt in the fightin’?” Jar Jar said, uncertainly. “Mesa is not sure, though.”

“Well, we’ll see how they work out,” Padme declared. “I’m sure training some feral predators from an unknown world will be a nice respite from dealing with the Senate.”

Some hours later, Padme was most of the way through the data work, and one of the young canines was snoozing next to her chair.

She wasn’t really sure if they were just sleepy or actively nocturnal, and if the latter was true then there might be a more serious problem keeping them occupied. But Jar Jar had certainly seemed proud of himself, and if she was going to reject the little creatures she wanted to have a solid reason at the very least.

Then the canine next to her rolled upright, and began growling. A similar growl came from elsewhere in the office, and Padme frowned.

“Captain Typho?” she asked, reaching for her comlink. “Is there anything wrong?”

“Nothing at the moment, Senator,” the captain of her security services replied. “The Chancellor’s just arriving for his meeting. I’ve cleared him already.”

The door to the office opened a moment later, and Chancellor Palpatine stepped through.

“Senator, I’m glad to-” he began, and both canines’ claws skittered against the floor of the office as they lunged. The sudden burst of speed completely caught Padme by surprise, while Jar Jar let out a yelp of pain that suggested he’d just been used as a launchpad.

“Stop!” Padme tried to order, even knowing there was no way the canines would respond to her voice instructions this early – knowing that only tone of voice could possibly stop them from attacking the Chancellor.

It didn’t.

One of them tried to bite Palpatine’s knees off, the other sprang towards his hand, and the Chancellor waved his arm to fling the one who’d attacked his hand against a window-

-Padme stared.

He’d done it without actually touching the canine? Was he a Jedi?

The second canine bounced off the window, rolled and pounced again, this time going for the Chancellor’s throat, and his hand dipped into his robes before bringing out a lightsaber. It flashed ruby-red as he swung it – only for the first canine to bite his wrist extremely hard, forcing the ‘saber to drop from suddenly-nerveless fingers.

“Get off me, you pests!” Palpatine shouted, his voice full of an anger Padme had never heard from him before, and lightning fizzed out to strike one of the canines. It actually endured being struck by lightning quite well, and a second afterwards the other one tore Palpatine’s throat out.

The Chancellor collapsed, looking quite surprised, and both canines abruptly stopped attacking and began wagging their tails.

Then, while Padme was still staring, the Chancellor exploded.

“...must have been a Sith,” Mace Windu said. “It’s the only explanation.”

He glanced at the pair of somewhat battered canines, trying extremely hard to escape from their carrier and savage him. “These little animals must react strongly to the Force.”

“Mesa had no idea!” Jar Jar said, trying extremely hard to hold on to the carrier. “Mesa did not mean for this to happen!”

“You exposed a Sith by accident?” Mace asked, sounding amused.

Padme was thinking hard.

“The other Sith, the one that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fought,” she said. “He was working with the Trade Federation, wasn’t he? During the Naboo crisis, he was on Tatooine and then he was blocking us…”

“I see the direction of your thoughts,” Mace replied. “If the whole Naboo crisis was caused by the Sith, then the goal may never have been about your planet at all. The goal may have been to raise Palpatine to the position of Chancellor, through sympathy for your planet’s plight.”

“Hesa very big-nasty,” Jar Jar summarized. “Mesa not sorry about what happened to himsa any more.”

[skxllz]

Hey... i'm in desperate need of some more Ian and Mickey x reader.. ilysm btw

baby ily too, here you go <3

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male! reader

“ why the fuck are you starin’ at me like that? ” mickey's voice rang out on the other end of the phone. the signal was icky, so the crinkling of static could be heard through the line.

your fingers pressed to your lips to hold back your laughter. “ I'm not staring at you like anything. ” you heard ian reply - it sounded as if he rolled his eyes, too, just by the tone of his voice.

these two drama kings were always fightin’. even in jail, the two just wouldn't stop. but i mean, I guess that's more than likely to happen since they're in each other's presence every second of the day.

“ yeah the fuck you are, ” mickey accused again, this time scoffing. “ you gonna’ come over here or what? y/n's on the phone. ”

“ no shit, sherlock. I heard ‘im. ”

“ do you want me to bust you in the mouth? ”

“ there will be no busting anyone in the mouth. ” you sighed, rolling your own eyes. that seemed to catch both of their attention, because you heard shuffling —and mickey and ian slightly bickering— before ian's voice met the phone.

“ hey, gorgeous. ” his breathy tone met your ear, causing you to instantly melt. mickey and ian both always had an effect on you, but the red head had ways of making you gush like no other.

“ hiiiii... ” you slowly, shyly replied; trying not to giggle like a school girl while you rolled onto your stomach. you were lying on your bed, legs bent and kicking in the air. “ how's it goin’, i’ ? ”

ian chuckled dryly — and you heard more shuffling, probably him moving the phone to his other ear, before he replied. “ shitty. the guard's here are a pain in m’ass. ”

“ you can say that again! ” the familiar brunette shouted. you heard a bang after that — sounded like something hit the bars of the cell.

furrowing your brows as you heard ian yell, worry clouded your brian. “ what was that? ”

a huff from ian could be heard after a moment of silence. “ fucking— my god, mickey kicked the cell bars to piss off our guard. damn asshole. ”

“ I'm not an asshole — you're an asshole! ”

“ will you two stop? ” you pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut in irritance. “ you're gonna’ get in trouble. ”

“ already ha— ” a scraping sound and more static cut ian off from finishing his sentence. skin on skin contact was hard, like a slap, and then mickey's voice rang out from the other line again.

“ I'm back. ” he sounded smug. ian could be heard muttering swear words. “ what, uh— ” you could only picture him biting his lip right about now. “ whaddya’ doing? ”

your brows raised in light amusement — releasing the hold you had on your nose, only to slide your fingers down your face and chuckle. “ nothin’. talkin’ to you two dummies. ”

“ I'm a dummy? ” mickey scoffed. “ you wouldn't be sayin’ that shit if I was there, sweet cheeks. ”

you bit your bottom lip, cheeks pinkening at the suggestive threat. “ uh huh, an’ why's that? ”

it was clear mickey was now wearing a shit eating grin by the way he responded. “ your mouth would be too full swallowin’ my cock. ”

aaaaand you were red. curling your fingers closed, pressing them to your lips. it was hard not to squeal — but you were sure as hell curling your toes and kicking your legs excitedly. mickey preferred to bottom, as did you, but when he did top, it was beyond hot.

you were going to reply, but then you heard something over the intercom in the background. it was difficult to make out, the words sounded muffled — but by mickey groaning, you knew it wasn't good.

“ fuck.. ” he muttered.

“ what is it? ” you were concerned again; now worried that something had happened.

mickey sighed, passing the phone to ian. he now had a halfy — a growing erection to deal with, and couldn't speak to you since he was pissed, so he'd let ian deliver the news.

ian greeted you with a sigh, “ we gotta’ go, pumpkin. some stupid ass got us goin’ on a lockdown. probably an idiot that attacked a guard. ”

that made you frown. you had barely been on the phone with them for six minutes — you usually got fifteen. “ seriously? that fucking blows.. ”

a small laugh escaped ian. you could only imagine his pretty smile. “ I know, I know... ‘m sorry. we'll be home soon though, okay? ”

you huffed, “ yeah... okay. I just miss you. ”

“ we miss you, too... ” ian sighed. if anything, he was probably trying not to get too sappy over the phone. god only knows how emotional he can get with you. “ I love you, pretty boy. stay good for us, okay? ”

a smile lifted to your lips — hand sliding up your cheeks, only to lean on it and nod into your palm. “ I love you, too.. and I will. tell mick’ I love ‘im. ”

ian huffed a smile, “ I will. goodbye, y/n. ”

“ bye bye, i’. ”

[1-ker0sene-1]

Never Just Two

Ghoap / Reader

(Wheelchair User Reader)

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3

"A Sargeants Bad Luck"

Word Count: 2k

CW: Johnny can't leave well enough alone, misunderstandings to the max

You were starting to come out of your shell now. Gaining some real confidence. Defiance. Threading your personality into the tightly woven design of this team. You still avoided the couple, however it wasn't out of fear. You gave them the respect of coworkers, but because of their actions you made no effort to befriend them. Simon could handle and understand. But it was wearing on Johnny.

"How do we even apologize?"

He groans, laid back lazily in Simons bed. Who rolled his eyes at the dramatic scott.

"By apologizing."

The masked man grumbles in return. He knew a simple 'I'm sorry' wouldn't fix everything, but it would be a start. The real rough part was to do it, cause that meant they would have to directly explain their pathetic behavior of strategizing against a disabled coworker.

"She already hates us I swear it-"

Johnny sighs, sitting up with a frown. Watching you with Gaz and Price was driving him up the wall. He liked being close knit with his team, knowing them and fighting beside them. Maybe you weren't out on the field with a gun, but now you were officially one of them. And you didn't want a damn thing to do with him. You had every reason to, of course, he knows that. He wants to fix it. You have such a strange affect on Johnny, you make him so damn nervous.

He tried first with coffee. Leaving a cup ready for you in the common room, where you'd usually sit by your laptop doing your morning routine and chatting with Price. He can fix this, little things at a time. He was never exactly great at leaving things be.

But then he sees your face, scrunching with confusion staring at the mug in your spot. Johnny doesn't speak up yet, watching emotions flow through you. You take the mug, carrying it back to the counter. Mortified, he watches you pour it right down the sink. Turning to the coffee pot to pour yourself a new cup. As you prepare it, he realizes what happened. He wants to slam his head through a wall.

Fucking idiot.. He made it no where near how you like.

His next attempt, he was sure it would work this time. At least get him on your better side. Was to adjust some of the cupboards. Johnny noticed how sometimes you struggled to reach all the way up with your sitting position. Taking the time to remove the cheap box cupboards, and screw them in a bit lower on the wall. He was almost finished when Gaz interrupted him.

"Hey mate you wanna help with the recruit situation? Got a couple idiots fightin' in the mess hall."

John groans, nodding and heading out with the fellow sargeant to deal with it. The cupboards were mostly done, he just had a couple screws to tighten back up.

By the time he was walking back to continue, he hears a crash. And your voice cursing out. Gaz and Johnny look to eachother before rushing towards the common room. And where you were, holding the detached handle of the cheap cupboard, the rest of it fallen on the floor. It almost fell on you. Once again Johnny wanted to bash himself. He opens his mouth, but Gaz is already coming over to you.

"You alright?"

He asks, resting a hand on your shoulder. His free hand takes the cupboard door and tosses it on the countertop.

"I'm fine just-"

You glance at Johnny, blinking as you see the screwdriver poking out of his pocket. Your eyes shoot away from him. Lips pressing into a tight frustrated line.

"I'm good."

You mumble, reaching to grab something else from a more stable cupboard.

"So you're way of apologizin' is making her coffee that could give her diabetes and dropping a cupboard on her head?"

Simon asks, crossing his arms. Watching Johnny bump his forehead repeatedly against the bed post. The brit is leaned back in a chair, mug of tea in his hands as he watches his distressed scottsman.

"Tha fuck is wrong with me?"

Johnny mutters exasperated.

"You're pushing too hard. We'll apologize tomorrow. Leave it be Johnny."

Simon advises, his hand coming over to his partners shoulder. Giving him a stern squeeze. It was for the best. Give you some time to cool off from Johnny's attempts, hopefully you won't take his actions as more threats. They've done enough of that bullshit.

Johnny swallows.. leave it be. That's what he should do. That is the plan. Leave it be and tomorrow they'll get on track to make things better. He was never good at leaving things alone. He just drowns in the paranoia of your hatred. The way you look at him and Simon makes his stomach ache, embarrassed to admit that it matters to him what you think of them. They started off so harshly with you. Now he's left to watch you show the rest of the team utter warmth and acceptance, things they should have shown you.

Now they're fucked. Utterly fucked. He didn't leave it be. Far from that actually. Johnny slams the door shut behind him in the room. Looking pale with wide eyes. Simon raises a brow at him. Johnny swallows.

"I know ye said ta leave it-"

"What did you do?"

Simon growls, Johnny sucks in a breath. Slowly revealing what he was hiding behind his back. The footrests to your chair. Simons jaw snaps shut, snapping the cigarette in his mouth clean in half.

"What the fuck were you thinkin'!?"

Simon curses, wrenching the footrest from Johnny's hand. Looking down at it with furrowed brows. The blue eyed man starts his explanation.

"I thought I could fix it- she was talkin' all mornin' about it being too high. That it needs lowered cause it hurts her ankles- she was workin' out so I tried adjusting it and the damn thing just fell off-"

Rambling about how his intentions were to assist you. Make things better. But this was far from it.

"Johnny you don't fuck with a mobility aid."

Simon scolds instantly, eyes narrowed. He had a fucking plan. An apology to make. The damn bastard couldn't wait one night!? He runs a hand over his face with a groan.

"You couldn't put it back on?"

Johnny deflates.

".. The screw was stripped. Gotta find a new one that size-"

They're interrupted by harsh banging on the door. Johnny grimaces. Simon gives him a deadpanned glare. Should have let it be. Simon pushes the footrest back into his lovers hand, turning him with a push on the shoulder. Grumbling sarcastically.

"By all means love. Go explain yourself."

Johnny sighs and reaches to pull open the door. Opening his mouth to spew apologies but you don't even give him the chance.

"Where the hell do you get off!?"

You boom, face twisted in a snarl. You are fuming. Sitting in your chair, arms crossed, nails digging into your own skin. Eyes lit up in a furious glare. Your chest heaving up and down. Your feet hanging just above the ground is a sore reminder of Johnny's worst mistake of the day.

"Y'know- I was fine with letting you guys do your thing and not bothering you. But you have no fucking right to make my life hell when I haven't done a god damn thing to either of you!"

Johnny's throat is impossibly tight, strangled by his own actions.

"Lass I'm really-"

"Don't call me that. You call me by my name, or nothing at all."

You snap. He takes a breath and nods. Mumbling your name. Simon stands behind him tense and looking at you.

" 'm really fuckin' sorry. I never meant ta break it."

"Why would I believe that? You've been fucking with me all day!"

You say, brows furrowed. Johnny blinks, shaking his head as he tries to pitifully explain himself. A feared soldier on the battlefield, a menace of explosions and tech, now babbling out excuses to you.

"No- I swear- I was tryin' to find a way to apologize ta ye."

"Apologize? .. Then why wouldn't you just fucking say that?"

You huff.

Simon cocks his head to the side, looking at Johnny with a glare.

"Yeah Johnny, why didn't you just say that?"

He repeats, trying to beat his point into his stubborn partners head. They could have apologized and not been in this mess. Johnny swallows and gives Simon a glare from the corner of his eyes.

"Yer nae helpin'."

Simon rolls his eyes, looking at you again. For once, a little softer. You've been fucked over all day.

The blonde mindlessly adjusted his balaclava a bit, before clearing his throat. Gesturing you inside the room. You give him an untrusting look, before rolling your chair into the room, letting him shut the door behind you. You grumble something under your breath, snatching your footrests back from Soaps hands. Resting it on your lap for now.

Simon grasps Johnny by the nape of the neck, pressing down on him with an authoritative grip to sit down on the edge of the bed. They were going to talk. They were going to start making this right. By doing it the right fucking way so help him god.

"You got every right to be angry. You deserve a proper apology yeah? No excuses. Just the truth."

"Bit of an understatement.."

You mumble, making Johnny wince. Simon nods in understanding. You suck in a tight breath and continue.

".. I already told you I wasn't telling anyone about you guys- so what the fuck do you have against me? .. That I'm new? That I'm not Laswell? ....Is it because of the chai-"

"No!"

Johnny says quickly, Simon almost says it at the same time.

"It's nae like that.. we were right pricks. We know. I really was tryin' ta make it up to ye today. Jus' dinnae know how.. and kept fuckin' it up.."

Soap rubs the back of his neck, blue eyes full of remorse and swimming in guilt. Simon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"We made a .. Few mistakes. We got off wrong from the start. The apology is long overdue. But we are sorry. We can pay for the repair."

You glance between the two of them with eyes of scrutiny, trying to dig for any hint of insencerity. When you find none you huff in annoyance, it would honestly be easier to hate them.

"Doesn't need a repair. Just a new screw. ... Just thought you did it on purpose."

You mutter. Johnny's shoulders sink.

"I promise ye I dinnae..I wouldn't."

Simon huffs, arm resting on Johnny's shoulder. He looks down at you.

"We're a team.. you're good for this team. We need to start treating you better. As one of us. .. Maybe we can start over right."

"No."

They blink at your rejection. But it's clear you're serious. You raise your brows at them.

"You guys don't just get to start over when you're assholes... Fix your actions instead."

You say, crossing your arms. Simon swallows thickly, you were right. You could go and tell Price of their treatment. Not only get them reprimanded, but you could come clean about all of them and get them in some real trouble.

"No more running around behind my back. Tell me when you want to help out.."

Johnny lifts his head at your words, opening his mouth. But you hold up a hand and give him a light glare.

"And no touching the chair anymore. Shouldn't have to say that at all."

You say, Johnny nods instantly.

"I deserve to be here. I know you're a Lieutenant, and I know you're a Sargeant. But I have a job to do too. Frankly it's to make sure you guys get back alive..... I'm not telling Price what happened."

Both men slack with relief. But you're not done yet.

"But if you pull that shit again. I'll transfer out. I know my worth. I'm not going to stay where I'm not wanted."

"We know-"

Simon starts.

"Then act like it."

You finish. Effectively silencing them. Simon gives a short nod to your order. In a way it was hard to describe the affect you had on them. Your strangely strong and suffocating presence. You weren't to be stepped on. You weren't to be taken lightly. Not anymore.

{Tag list: @waiting-so-long @redz0mbie @lolly145 @infpt-zylith @missmidnight-writes }

[rocksibblingsau]

JD: Branch, we aren’t taking some fancy shamncy “spaceship” or whatever

Branch: … *raises an eyebrow* so you want us to take your beat up bug bus that you’ve been living in for the past twenty years? JD: Of course! Ol’ Rhonda here is the most reliable bug bus ever! Branch: *makes a face* *turns to Darnell and Cooper* Well, at least I have you two to—

JD: Why would we take two random trolls? It’s not like they’re your brothers or anything. Branch, Darnell, Cooper: *surpised pikachu face*

Them's fightin' words, as Country Branch would say.

[hobie-enthusiast]

FATES AND CANONS !

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— hobie brown and his six canon events

— angst, fluff, comfort, no happy ending (kinda?), petnames, major character death (twice, including reader), pretty long fic, might go against some comic canons, anarchist reader, cutesy kisses

— let’s play spot the tv girl reference 😜 anyway sorry for the delay ive been traveling, got sick, and now school starts next week, woohoo. so enjoy this for a little :)

The first canon event Hobie Brown experienced was being bitten by a radioactive spider.

But of course, that much is known. It’s the origin of every Spider-person in every dimension. That story has been over-told.

The real stories come from the preceding canon events, one that though every Spider-person goes through, it’s story-worthy each time.

—

The second canon event Hobie Brown experienced was the death of his best friend.

This friend was someone so dear to him, one he met at his lowest times on the streets. They picked each other up, helped each other out, and always had each other's backs. His best friend had big dreams just like him; stop the corrupt system of the Prime Minister and uplift the voices of the minorities. And his way of doing that was joining the police force, working on the inside to break it down and show others that the government is corrupt. Hobie had a friend on the inside, and together, they were able to stage protests and riots that were completely unbothered by the troops, thanks to his friend’s rank as captain.

Until he got infected with Norman Osborn's toxicity.

Hobie didn't realize it was him. He was bringing down those pigs left and right with his soundwaves, fighting for his side. He thought that there was no way he was in this. He was stronger than that.

But then he finished them all, and when the black goo disintegrated from the bodies, he saw that all-too-familiar person.

Hobie Brown had killed his best friend.

He was quick to run to his side, hands trembling. "Shit mate.. 't wasn't supposed t' be you."

"Hobie..?" His friend questioned, only then laughing quietly. "Hmm.. shoulda known my best mate t'was the coolest super in the world."

Quickly, Hobie moves his friend to a secluded alleyway, where he can take his mask off. There, his friend can see the way tears prick the corners of Hobie’s eyes. No one ever really sees him cry. This was a sight, a sad one at that.

"'m so sorry.." Hobie whispers.

His friend shakes his head. “Don’t be. Ya did good.”

Despite those words, Hobie couldn’t help but feel deeply guilty. He was just trying to do good? Why did this happen?

He was Spider-punk. Wasn’t he supposed to be able to save everyone?

“Ya gotta keep doin’ this.”

Hobie’s thoughts were interrupted as his friend grabbed his arm, gaining his attention. He was way worse looking than a couple seconds ago. Blood pooled around his stomach. Hands stained red from coughing it up. He wasn’t going to make it. Hobie knew that.

“Not killin’ your best friend, obviously.” He laughs at his own joke weakly. “But fightin’ for the people. They need ya, Hobie.”

Hobie nods in understanding. He promised him he would. It was always easier to make a dying person such bold promises. But Hobie could never give up on helping the people.

Even as his best friend takes his final breath, Hobie swore to protect the innocent. Even if he can’t save everyone, he’ll try his hardest.

Because that’s what he promised his best friend.

—

The third canon event Hobie Brown experienced was meeting the love of his life.

It was post concert; spirits were high and everyone was dying to meet the lead guitarist. Hobie’s onstage presence was something to marvel at, one that everyone adored.

You were no exception. You noticed the way Hobie was seemingly getting lost in the music. He was so passionate about his music, about what he performed. You admired that, truly. Not many musicians nowadays care about having a good onstage presence. Even with a band.

Lucky for you, your good friend was the bassist for the band. He was the one who invited you tonight, who wanted you to meet the band. He came out from backstage after the show and lead you to the dressing room.

“Alright mates, this is [Name].” Your friend points out each band member, stating their names before realizing something. “Aye, where’s ‘obie?”

His band didn’t seem to know, but you just shrugged it off. Though, you couldn’t deny the small sliver of disappointment that came with not meeting him. Soon, you excused yourself to grab some water, exiting the room.

What you didn’t expect was to run into someone.

“Crap, my bad. Didn’t see you there!” You immediately apologize, glancing up at the stranger.

Except it wasn’t a stranger. It was Hobie Brown. “‘s alright, swee’heart. No hard feelin’s.”

Hobie, after the show, decided to grab something to drink. He played a good show at the pub, so he rightfully thought he deserved it. But people were getting irritating, being touchy and pushy. He didn’t really appreciate that, and soon went backstage to find his bandmates.

When walking down the way, he said hello to a couple of the crew members. They were always considerate, doing their job correctly. Surely they deserve at least a wave and a verbal confirmation Hobie saw them.

Then, his spider-sense started tingling. Glancing around, he was quick to realize there was no true threat. But then he ran into you, and time seemingly stopped.

At the time, Hobie couldn’t describe the feeling of seeing you for the first time. It was like a part of him connected for the first time. You were a missing piece that he never knew he was even missing. But why did his senses go off for you?

“Actually, you’re Hobie, right?” You question, pointing up at him. “I’m a friend of the bassist in ‘ur band. It’s nice to meet you.”

Hobie muses. “Pleasure’s all mine, darlin’. C’mon, ‘ll take ya back t’ ‘em.”

The guitarist would be lying if he said he didn’t take you in the wrong direction for a little while. He wanted to get to know you more. And you weren’t complaining. Hobie was an incredibly charming guy.

The rest of the night was spent chatting with him. You couldn’t seem to leave him alone, and Hobie couldn’t keep his eyes off of you either. The two of you worked well together, and everyone in the band seemed to notice.

So Hobie slipped his number into your pocket, giving a kiss on your cheek. Bold, sure, but he had to make his move. Nobody has ever made him feel this way.

He can’t let you slip from his fingers.

—

The fourth canon event Hobie Brown experienced was giving up his mask.

Being Spider-punk was not everything Hobie cracked it out to be. He was constantly putting himself in danger, and you in the process. Everything was just so tiring. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He finally caught his breath after a confrontation, sliding down against the wall. He panted heavily, clutching tightly on his guitar. He barely made it out.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell..” He muttered, coughing and hacking.

Hobie Brown was tired of this. He stood up, taking off the parts of his suit that came undone. Searching for a nearby garbage, he found one. Then, Hobie simply shoved his suit into it messily.

Staring down at the bin, he slung his guitar on his back. Then he just.. walked from the alleyway, never taking a second glance back.

The walk back home to you was long, considering he didn’t swing there. But when he made it, he let himself into the door, placing his guitar on the table. His eyes caught you in his peripheral vision.

You glance from the counter, giving a smile. “Hey, Hobes! How was-” Your words fall short at the solemn expression he wore. “What happened?”

Your boyfriend stayed silent as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Nothin’.. ‘s all done..”

“Done? What do you mean?”

He sighs, face in your shoulder. Should he even-?

Of course he should.

“I gave it up. ‘m done bein’ Spider-man. A symbol.. or whateve’.”

You turn your body to face him, taking his hands to analyze him. You frown, eyes narrowing as he just stares down. When was the last time you saw Hobie so.. defeated?

Then, a sigh. “Hobes.. listen..”

You move your hands to cup his face, lifting him to face you directly. His tired eyes meet yours, and you give a smile.

“You can’t give it up. This is your favourite thing to do for the people.. Being their voice. But it’s okay to take breaks.” You start, gently stroking his cheek. “‘s not selfish.. you’re trying to be the best for them. To fight for them. But you can’t do that if you’re so tired, my love..”

Hobie chuckles quietly, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Always the wise one..” Is all he mutters.

You muse, rubbing his back gently. “Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”

“…mmkay...”

And you surely took care of him. You cooked for him. You cleaned up his wounds. You cuddled with him in bed. Anything to help Hobie feel better from such a long day. Even then.. from such a long and tiring career.

Hobie is so incredibly thankful for everything you do. The way you’re so tender with him. The way you just seem to know what to do to help him. You’re so incredible to him.

So he whispers a simple ‘thank you, swee’heart’ to thank you, finally letting his body rest and recuperate to continue his work in the coming days.

—

The fifth canon event Hobie Brown experienced was kissing the love of his life upside down.

It was cheesy, as Hobie and you could describe it. But he had just taken down some more corrupt government, seeing victory shine in his eyes. On top of that, he previously asked you to marry him, and you saying yes only added to his wonderful day.

Of course, your shared idea of marriage was different. In short, he put one of his rings on yours to be the symbol. The two of you would spend a day together, forge a silly little paper to say your married, sneak it in the courts, and call it a day. The perfect wedding for the perfect anarchist couple.

After his successful take down, he swung to the neighborhood you two lived in. It was quaint, you both preferred it that way. Somewhat safer as well.

He heard you earlier say you had to head to the corner shoppe, so that’s where he went. He lied on the rooftop with a perfect view of the entrance. Then, all he had to do was sit, and wait to see your pretty face walk out.

When you did, he turned himself upside down to hang on the side of the building, calling out to you. “Back from a day’s work of corrup’ gover’ment take down.”

You glance down the alleyway the voice came from, an amused smile cornering your lips. You glance around before making your way towards Hobie. Gently placing down the groceries, you glance up at him.

“Hope all that blood and ego doesn’t rush to your head, hanging upside down like that.” You tease.

“Can’t help how cool I truly am.” He replies, lowering himself so that he’s now at your level, still upside down. “You seem t’ think so too. Wha’s that on ‘ur finger, hm?”

“Geez, this gonna be a regular thing?” You fake a groan, hands finding placement on Hobie’s cheeks.

“‘s like y’know me so well..”

You stare at your fiancé for a while, just admiring him. The way he seemingly gave no care to anyone who judged him. He lived so freely, teaching you how to follow after him. Hobie Brown was so magnificent.. and here he was, at your every whim.

Before you knew it, your fingers began taking off the lower bit of his mask. Rolling it up, to reveal his beautiful lips, lip piercing shining in contrast to his beautiful skin.

“Wha’s this for?” He questions, hands holding tightly onto your now dropped ones.

You smile. “Such a.. silly reason, I’m afraid.” You mutter, leaning into his body. “I just wanted to kiss you..”

Then you lean in, kissing Hobie gently. His lips immediately match yours, taking in the warmth you provide. The kiss is so loving.. so incredibly beautiful. It is your first engaged after all.

Even when you pull away, a smirk plays at his lips. He brings his hands up to cup your face, pulling you in for another long kiss. He just can’t ever get enough of you.

Hobie never did believe in canon events. Of course he’s experienced so many with you now. But he can’t help but still keep his belief away from the idea. Because that could lead to your demise.

And Hobie will be damned if you die on him.

—

The sixth canon event Hobie Brown experienced was losing the best thing to ever happen to him.

It was a protest gone wrong. You both agreed to march the front lines, to protest for a better living wage for the lower class. Something the two of you have been fighting for for months on end.

Government never liked protests.

Of course, they sent their force to shut it down. To “stop any future damage”. But that was only a front. The pigs sent down actually stormed the crowd of protesters, putting their hands on anyone they could find.

Hobie quickly took on his Spider-punk role, defeating anyone he can before it happened. He saved a ton of lives, swiping them away from the police before webbing the bad guys to buildings. Things were going good for him. Until the explosion.

He just landed on a building to try and observe who still needed help. His eyes caught you shoving down a cop onto the ground, and his smile under the mask grew. You glanced up at him, giving your own smile, and a wave.

Hobie was about to swoop down to come grab you, but the cop got up, through his explosive to the ground. It rolled right next to your feet.

“Shit! [Name], watch-!”

But his words were too late. The explosion sent you flying into the side of a building, back thrown against it harshly. Almost everyone began scrambling after that, running from the scene. But not Spider-punk. He immediately made it to you, picking up your weak body.

His breathing picked up. “No.. no, ‘s not like this. Jus’, hang on.” He whispered over and over, swinging to a nearby rooftop.

You groan, already feeling the crimson liquid leak from your head and stomach. Everything was blurry, like a daze. Yet Hobie’s face was clear and recognizable. Even under his mask, he showed such obvious signs of worries, even regret.

Eventually, he drops his own body to the ground, yanking his mask off. His hands immediately hold your again.

“Damn.. just like.. that, hm?” You managed, body already showing the signs of shutting down. “Hurts, y’know?”

“Don’’ you dare give up on me.” Hobie muttered, ripping off the sleeve to his suit. “‘s all gonna be fine.”

You laugh weakly, head thrown back. “Dunno if I’ve got a choice, Hobes..”

With careful fingers, Hobie ties his sleeve around the wound. He didn’t want to hurt you more, but the bleeding had to stop before getting any worse. A small part of him knew it was hopeless. Futile, even. He was almost back in the beginning. When he was barely starting out in his duties, and he failed to save his good friend. Now he failed to save you. Here you were, dying in his arms.

Hobie took a deep breath. “Ya can’t.. swee’heart, c’mon..”

“Don’t be sad, Hobes..” You whisper, hand finding his cheek. “I wanna see you smile..”

Of course you would request that, only you. He gives such a weak laugh, one that brings the best smile he can manage. But it quickly turns back to sadness.

Then, a smile graces your face. “God.. I love that smile..” You whisper, coughing weakly. Blood seeps through the cloth on your stomach. You were losing it.

“‘m gonna miss ya, swee’heart.. s’much..” Hobie says, tears falling from his eyes.

“I know, Hobes.”

Hobie doesn’t remember the last time he let himself cry like this. Maybe when he was a kid? When his best friend died? Who knows. But now, now his tears wouldn’t stop flowing, nose sniffing over and over again.

Why can’t you just stay?

“I have’ta go..” You say sadly, almost as if reading his thoughts. “Don’t you dare.. stop bein’ a hero, ya hear? I’ll rise just to smack you..” Were your next words, almost as if reprimanding him.

Once again, Hobie laughed his quiet laugh. “Well now I neve’ can.. Jus’ f’you..” He says in a whisper.

You feel your breathing start to fall short, coughing and hacking. Hobie holds you tighter, whispers of “I love you” and “I’ll miss you” exchanged over and over.

“I love you.. Hobie Brown..” Were your last words. “My Spider-punk..”

And then.. you were gone. Just like that.

—

“Hobie? Hobie!”

Gwen had to call out to him a mere three times before he came back to. His eyes shut and opened as he remembers where he was. Right, Spider-society. Gwen and him were walking and chatting.

“Righ’, sorry Gwendy.”

Gwen waves it off. “Don’t even worry. Anyways, I heard about a couple new recruits.”

Hobie listened to his younger friend talk and talk, but his mind was elsewhere. Today was a particularly.. memorable day. He just couldn’t seem to get you out of his head. Normally Hobie wouldn’t complain.. but he misses you.

His thoughts circle him too much, and next thing he knows, he bumped into another Spider-totem.

“Crap, my bad. Didn’t see you there!”

…what?

Hobie knows that voice. Of course he does. He glances down at the stranger, finally seeing the face he missed so much. The face his nights yearned to see again. The face he missed screaming and supporting him at his concerts. The face of you.

“…uhm, are you okay? Oh my god I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?”

Gwen glanced back from her spot, noticing the scene occurring. Her eyes widen. Oh no..

She immediately walks to the two of you, chuckling awkwardly. “Hey! So sorry, he’s in a little daze today! C’mon Hobie!”

You glance up at the guy again, finally getting a good look at him. But he’s just staring. His eyes are seemingly.. longing. They’re lonely, that much you can tell. He has a demeanor about him.. one that reminds you of someone. Even his face looks familiar.. wait!

“What a coincidence!” You suddenly say. “My boyfriend’s name is Hobie! From my dimension at least.”

Hobie finally snapped from his trance, your words reaching his ears. “How.. coinciden’al..” He whispers.

“Well.. it was nice to meet you, Hobie.” You smile, offering out a hand for him to shake. “Hope t’ see ya around!”

He shakes your hand and.. oh does the contact feel so good. But he doesn’t linger. Hobie simply watches you walk off, that same cheerful demeanor reflecting in your every step.

Of course it felt like you got away again. And he had almost no doubt that the Hobie you love so dear will meet a demise. But he’ll stick with you. Stick with being your friend and being there when you need him.

Because Hobie would walk through this pain a thousand times if it meant you were in his life again.

[daisygirlwrites]

Could you be able to do a headcanon of a video game night with the 141, I keep thinking about that headcanon in the third part of the ghost headcanon

Game Night Headcanons (Task Force 141 + afab!Reader)

note: König and Horangi appear, no use of (Y/N)

a/n: hey hey, this was really fun to write and there might be a second part to this. also this is a little shorter than normal, sorry about that. anyways, thank you all so much for reading!

taglist: @bobfloydsgf , @warenai , @devilsfoodcake22 , @itsscromp , @dilfsaremyfavourite, @imalovernotahater , @cutiecusp , @allen-444

gif credit: @pedrokkstuff

The typical 141 game night, more often than not, leads to a fist fight at some point

As well as name calling, accusations, threats and sometimes, crying. Last part is done by Crash most times

It wasn’t like this before. Game night was more relaxed. There was usually multiple systems and even board games going at once

That is until Soap suggested Mario Kart. He was whining on about how he wanted the group to play together, even for one round

You and the others give into his insistent whining. However, Price used his ‘old man’ card to get out of playing and agreed to watch from the sidelines.

It took a while to convince Ghost to join, Soap literally begging on his hands and knees. But it was you that ultimately got him to play, by taunting him. There is still a rivalry going on between you two though it’s become friendly in recent times. 

Your taunting worked, calling him an old man to his face and that he’s probably embarrassed to play because it’s the one thing he’s bad at. The thing that pissed him off most was you told him that he’s a ‘has-been’ 

He stares at you as you give him a smug grin back. Ghost opens his hand towards Soap, not breaking eye contact with you, he says one word, “Controller.” Johnny lets out a little “whoo!” and places a switch controller onto his hand

Ghost would either main Shy Guy, Dry Bones or Dry Bowser for obvious reasons

Soap plays Bowser or Bowser Jr. He mentions something about having a similar hairstyle as them. (Bonus points if he’s matching with Ghost)

Gaz plays as Toad because the little screams Toad makes is low key funny

Crash usually plays as Isabelle but whenever Ghost joins, she switches to King Boo

First game, Crash wins with Ghost coming close at second place. Lowkey, Crash got real nervous during the last lap since Ghost was in the lead but with the magic called button smashing, she kept blue-shelling him.

Second game, Ghost absolutely demolished everyone, paying close attention to you. 

You, being a sore loser, calls him out for cheating and demand a rematch

To everyone’s surprise, he does. And round after round, he beats everyone

Gaz was speechless, Soap looks at the Lieutenant with awe and it took everything in you to not bitch slap Ghost

The little argument becomes a little bit too intense which turns into a yelling match

Crash : “Bitch do you want me to jump across this table because I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY FOR THIS, OKAY?!” Ghost, with a shit eating grin under his mask : “You feeling froggy? Leap.” Crash, rolling up her sleeves : “Okay, well here I come."

Price, who was napping on the lazy chair while they played, woke up to a scuffle. Lifting up his hat, he takes in the scene in front of him:

You were very animated, talking with your hands as you argue with the Lieutenant. Ghost has his hands on his hips, back straightened as he looks down at you.

Soap was in-between you and Ghost, hand on the latter's chest and the other on your shoulder, keeping distance from each other. He looked a little nervous, being literally in the middle of Ghost and essentially, a mini Ghost. "Hey, let's talk this out first, no need for fightin'!"

Gaz had a hand on your other shoulder, trying to pull you away. He would lift you up, and he can, but he doesn't want to get his ass beat by someone who's five foot four

Price, after watching them for a couple minutes, finally steps in.

Had to use the 'dad voice' on everyone

That weeks game night ends there

The next one though, basically the same thing happens. Only difference is that you guys were playing Super Smash Bros.

Ghost would either play Dark Samus, Sheik, Cloud or Snake

Soap plays Bowser, Roy or Ryu

Gaz usually plays as Lucario or Ness, but sometimes switches to Marth

Crash mains Kirby, however she does have a soft spot for all of the cute game mascots (especially Pikachu)

Same thing happens, Ghost beats everyone and you start an argument because "No one his age knows how to play."

"For God's sake, Crash, I'm twenty-nine!" "Pretty fuckin' old to me." "We're six years apart, Tiny."

You low key hated that nickname. It was a reminder to you that everyone else was six foot and taller.

With no hesitation, you jump towards him

Thankfully, this time Price is awake and grabs you just in time

He holds you back as you shout "These hands are rated E for Everyone"

After that, game night was cancelled for a while, for oblivious reasons

That is until the KorTac team joins them. Game night is brought back since it's good for 'team bonding'

It's mostly König and Horangi that hangs out with them, with Hutch occasionally coming by

All of them are really good at Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros.

It was kind of embarrassing for the 141 to get beat against the new guys

Everyone was nice at first but as game nights continue, König lets out a snide comment

"Thought you guys are the best of the best. Guess you're not good at everything."

As much as you liked König, you were not gonna let that slide. Same with Ghost

Both of you form a truce and team up together

As you were on the field, both of you are a deadly combination

Unsurprisingly, you win. But learning from previous mistakes, you behave yourself.

König and Horangi lose gracefully, telling you "GG" and even apologizing for the comment he made earlier

Price gives a sigh of relief, not wanting to break up a fight, especially since one of them is almost seven feet tall

Other games the team plays:

Halo (specifically the first three). Ghost doesn't say but he low key relates to Master Chief. Soap likes it because there's a pretty lady that talks to him

Mario Party. Price has to supervise

Mortal Kombat and Street Fighter. Everyone is surprisingly chill when they play those two. Just something about Super Smash Bros that gets they hyped up

Untitled Goose Game and Goat Simulator. It's mostly you and Gaz playing. Funny games that makes you forget about the world for a few hours

The team also plays card and board games as well but that's for another time

[sunnybeewriting]

peachy keen. Part Three

Words. Why are they so damn hard sometimes?

Holy smokes, I’m sorry it took me so long to do this chapter! I won’t lie, I defiantly needed some time to get my brain to write again, but I’m here now! Also, I just wanted to say again how much everybody’s likes and reblogs and comments mean to me! So far everybody has been so sweet and encouraging, and it makes me so happy! I’m so glad people seem to like Peach and peachy keen.

Also, if I don't reply directly to you, whether you reblog or comment or are anonymous, I still read and love them all! Every comment makes my day!

We’re getting pretty close to halfway through this story, so thank you again! If you like this chapter, please leave a like or a comment!

WORDS: 10.6k

WARNINGS: Adult Language, Sexual Tension (I'm sorry!)

Sweat stings your eyes and makes your sight blurry as you gasp for air, gripping your knife so tightly in your right hand that it hurts the cut on your palm.

The muscles in your thighs, shoulders, and arms burn with exhaustion, begging for rest. Your teeth are gritted in wild determination, chest heaving.

Quaritch stands a few feet from you, tail whipping behind him and body lowered into a half-crouch. His right hand clenches around his own knife, much bigger than yours, and he grasps it much less harshly than you do. His breathing is even, but there is the slightest, barest sheen of sweat on his forehead.

That fact might be inadequate to others, but to you, it is clear, proud evidence of your progress.

You grin fiercely at the sight and he bares his sharp teeth back. They glint in the daylight before his mouth stretches into his own feral smile.

The muscles in your legs tighten and you lunge toward Quaritch, blade stretched out in front of you as you swipe toward his shoulder.

He jerks to the side and your knife misses him by a scant inch. You stop your body from being thrown off course by your body weight, tightening the muscles of your core and jerking to a halt.

You whirl around to face Quaritch again and barely have time to duck your head to avoid getting a knife in the face.

Quaritch doesn’t stop there, using his close proximity to grab your right arm with the hand not holding his knife. His hand wraps around your slender wrist easily, broad fingers overlapping. He jerks you in close to him by your arm and you crash face-first into his chest with a grunt, knife raising to slice at him on instinct.

He drops his knife to the ground to free his other hand, and he grabs your wrist tightly just in time to stop the blade from slicing through the fabric of his tank top and into his skin.

You struggle in his grip, face and torso pressed against his chest, both wrists caught in his grasp. You jerk your arms back and forth in an effort to loosen his grip, leaning your body backward, but he doesn’t budge.

You glare up at him, angry yellow eyes matching the color of his amused ones, and you growl when his body doesn’t move an inch even with you pushing away from him with your entire weight. Your nose scrunches up, sharp teeth showing as you snarl at him.

He smirks at your attempt to intimidate him and tightens his grip to the point of pain.

Aching lightning shoots up your wrists into your arms, and your growl turns into a yelp real fast.

“You done fightin’, sweetheart?”

Anger flares deep in your stomach at his patronizing tone, and you cry out as your vigor to remove yourself from him returns with gusto.

“I’m going to kick your ass, dickbag!”

His eyebrow raises at your ballsy words, and he chuckles.

“Yeah? How you thinkin’ you gonna do that, huh, Peach? Seems to me like I’ve got you right,” he tugs you in closer and your chest crashes right back into his, “where I want you.”

You hiss and jerk your right leg up as fast you can, knee aiming to hit him right in the balls.

Hope it hurts!

Quaritch moves to your right side just in time for your knee to hit his thigh. He takes his left leg, hooks his foot around your remaining one, and pulls.

Your leg gives out from under you and you fall backward with another surprised yelp, landing hard on your back. Air whooshes out of you for half a second as you gasp, and then you’re struggling to sit up, eager to get in at least one hit for the day.

But Quaritch is too fast for you and he grabs your arms, flipping you quickly over onto your stomach. You struggle fiercely as he squeezes both your wrists behind your back with one large hand, legs kicking up as best you can whilst on your belly.

He kneels over your pinned body, chest pressed solidly against your back. His face lowers down close to your ear, and goosebumps erupt over your body when his breath puffs out across the sensitive skin of your neck and ears. Your ears twitch frantically as he comes closer, and he whispers softly, so soft you can barely hear it,

“Looks like you’re mine, Peach.”

You grunt one last time before falling limp and pressing your face into the ground in submission.

Your heart thunders in your chest so harshly you can hear it in your ears and you pant, trying to slow it down. You lay there for another ten seconds, eyes squeezed shut, before you distantly realize that Quaritch has yet to release you from his grip, nor remove his chest from your back.

You blearily open your eyes and turn your head to where Quaritch is positioned, wondering what the hell is taking him so long to let you up.

Quaritch’s wild eyes sear into your own when you move. Your stomach swoops low when you see the hungry look in them. You stare at each other, chests heaving in tandem, and your pounding heart lurches unsteadily in your chest. You can feel the bare skin of his shoulders and arms forced against yours.

Slowly, one finger at a time, he unclenches his fingers from around your wrists. They were so tight you distantly wonder if they will leave finger-shaped bruises on your skin.

You blink at the relief of blood rushing back into your arms, and the spell between you is broken.

Quaritch blinks rapidly, the untamed look behind his eyes fading slightly as he realizes he still has you pinned. He slowly, almost reluctantly, moves his chest from your back, and suddenly you can breathe. You hadn’t even realized he was pressing so much of his heavy weight on you that you were breathless from it.

Fresh, sweet air rushes into your lungs, and your heart finally starts to slow. You lower your wobbly arms to your sides and start pressing upwards, raising your chest off the ground.

Little pieces of gravel cling to your tank top and you shakily lift a hand to dust them off. You lean back on your knees, and as you are about to shakily pull yourself to your feet, a great, blue hand drifts into your eyesight.

You look up, surprised, and yep, Quaritch is holding his hand out for you to grab in a very startling, very suspicious show of uncharacteristic generosity.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously up at him from your position on your knees kneeling before him, almost certain that the second you reached for it he would pull his hand back like an elementary school bully. You glance at him, and he simply quirks his eyebrow, as if saying, ‘Well? You gonna be a pussy?’.

You hesitantly place your hand into his. He adjusts his grip until he’s holding your hand firmly, and then with the tiniest of tugs, he lifts you up quickly, as though you weigh nothing more than air.

You go flying, almost crashing face-first into his chest again. Luckily enough for your nose and forehead, which still ache from the first time, you are able to stop yourself by bracing a hand against his chest. Your fingers brush against the cool metal of his dog tags.

His chest heaves once, twice, before you are tearing yourself away and stepping three paces back.

“You know, Peach, I almost miss when you were floppin’ around, all loose-limbed and wobbly legs, like a newborn foal. It was fuckin’ hilarious.”

You roll your eyes hard but don’t take his snobby words to heart. That was the thing about Quaritch; if you let him, he’ll poke and poke and poke until you either snap and scream at him or wilt into a pile of tears, just because he’s so damn relentless.

You, on the other hand, had done the only correct thing you could when faced with someone as seemingly mean as Quaritch; you let the things he says roll right off your back. You have to be careful when listening to Quaritch, have to dig deep and pick out all the little words that mean nothing until you're left with the bare bones of what he really means. Ignore his intimidation tactics, ignore his insults, and listen.

Otherwise, his asshole attitude and mean words would just drive a person crazy.

He disguises his compliments inside insults just because he can. And while that may not be good enough for other people, it certainly was enough for you. It was so much better than the irritated snaps and pissy words he would throw at you at the beginning when you were learning the basics, so you’ll gladly take whatever you can get.

Speaking with Quaritch is like speaking an entirely new language.

“Thanks, Quaritch,” you say breathlessly, taking his words for what they really were: a compliment.

He grins at you, smacking you on your sweaty back harshly. Air once again flees your lungs and your knees threaten to give out, but you stay standing simply for the sake of your pride.

“Got enough energy for another round, or you too tired?” he asks smugly.

“Yeah, no, I think I’m done for the day, sorry,” you gasp without shame. It’s a miracle you’re even able to form words right now, really.

He barks out a laugh. “Pussy.”

Quaritch tilts his head up toward the shining sky. Daylight catches in his yellow eyes and turns them a warm, molten gold. It steals the breath from your chest for just a moment, and you stare, caught and unable to look away.

You don’t even realize you’re practically gawking at him, looking like a stunned idiot, before he turns his head back down toward you and shoots you a glower. “What?”

You blink frantically and look down, flustered at being caught. Your hands rise to rub at your eyes, as though you are trying to clear them after staring into the bright sun for too long.  “Nothing!”

He looks skeptical but lets it go. His eyes flicker down to your cheek, and he blinks.

Before you can startle or move away, Quaritch lifts his hand and brushes the back of his index finger against the soft skin of your blue cheek. His hand is back at his side so fast you can hardly believe it had happened at all.

You freeze, mind blank as you struggle to understand what just happened. You fully gawk at him now, confused and shocked at the unexpectedly tender action.

Uh. What?

Quaritch blows on his finger and then seems to notice your startled expression. He glares at you, clearly annoyed. “What? You had an eyelash on your cheek. You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He sneers at you, crossing his arms almost defensively over his chest.

You dazedly press a hand softly against the cheek he had brushed against, skin still tingling there. Even if there had been an eyelash there, you can hardly believe he had actually willingly done such a tender act. You can’t imagine him doing that to any of the other members of his team, or even yours.

You suddenly think of him brushing an eyelash from David’s cheek, who gazes up at him as adoringly as you probably had.

The mental image is almost enough to make you giggle hysterically. It is enough to make you a little nauseous.

“Right, right, sorry. Uh, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

His gaze seems to linger on you, eyes flickering over your face and tail flicking erratically behind him. His lips seem to twitch up just slightly at the corners. He rubs the finger he used to brush your cheek, and you wonder if his skin was also tingling. Eventually, Quaritch nods in acquiescence before moving toward the gate of the courtyard.  

“See you ‘round, Peach.”

------

You’ve been in Bridgehead for over two months now, but this is the first day it rains.

You stand outside in your Avatar, head tilted back, eyes fluttered closed. It’s hard to say that it’s raining, really; it’s more of a very light, misty drizzle. The raindrops are so small that they seem to dissipate into the air by the time they reach you. Only a few are thick enough to splatter against your face and the concrete ground, but it’s still enough to make the corners of your mouth tilt up into a small, satisfied smile.

Rain back on Earth was not as fresh or clean as the water pouring from the skies of Pandora. Many places on Earth experienced droughts, rain rarely appearing. Other places were constantly wet, soaked with rain that smelled and tasted almost sharp, sour. The rain there was unbalanced, like most of the things back home.

On Pandora, though, it is beautiful, refreshing, clean. It smells sweet as you deeply breathe in the humid air, and every time you do it feels as though something deep in your soul is being healed, something you hadn’t realized was torn. You wonder if this is what it was like back on Earth hundreds of years ago, before all the pollution and corruption of the world.

You’d never felt anything like it before.

The dreary weather turns your small amount of clothing heavy and wet with humidity, making it stick uncomfortably against your slick blue skin. You refuse to go back inside, though, much too pleased to be out and breathing this amazing air.

The drifting clouds above you are gray and thick, full of unreleased water as they block the daylight. As a result, what little light there is reflects sadly off the metal and gray walls of Bridgehead, turning the area even more depressing than usual.

Regardless of the gloomy view, you much rather be out here than in your quarters or with the other members of your group. When you left, the most interesting thing happening was James trying to balance a pencil on his nose while your team lounged around on yet another uneventful day.

I miss Quaritch.

It’s a sudden thought, one that takes you completely by surprise and jolts you straight out of your peaceful position and mindset. It’s a strange insight when you realize you miss someone you probably shouldn’t.

But you just couldn't help it; for all that Quaritch is intimidating and an asshole, he is also really, really… entertaining.

There are a lot of bad things you could say about him and his mean personality, but one could never say he was boring. And it was almost embarrassing, how much he made you laugh. It wasn’t even until a few days ago when he had said something biting some poor soul who walked into a doorframe while staring at his holotablet, and your mouth had lifted once again into an entirely too amused smile. That was when you realized that Quaritch is fucking funny.

Your cheeks were almost hurting with how much he had amused you that day, even just by being Quaritch. There was just something about the crude, mean way things he sometimes said that just tickled you pink. Of course, it was the most amusing when his biting words weren’t directed toward you.

Quaritch has only been gone for two days, away with most of his Recombinant Unit to meet with a few RDA managers on the other side of Bridgehead. It had been a surprise trip, and he left the morning after your last lesson with him. Really, you would have much preferred to go with him, just so you could see the way Quaritch would surely loom over a few tiny, terrified paper-pushers, rolling his eyes at anything they had to say. You would have paid good money to see that.

Spending all this time with Quaritch is kind of making me heartless.

Instead, you’d spent those two days almost bored to tears, waiting impatiently for him to return so you could be entertained.

Quaritch had left you with a sly smirk and another hard smack on your shoulder, promising to return in two days to continue with, as he said, “Our pansy-ass tree-hugger lectures”. He had also promised to be back soon enough to keep kicking your ass in combat. 

Asshole.

You pretend not to notice the slight twinge of fondness accompanying that thought.

He’d said he back this afternoon and that you’d continue your lessons tomorrow. It’s completely unfair how much you look forward to seeing that douchebag again.

“What are you doing out here all alone, hm?” Margot’s voice from behind makes you startle slightly, too lost in your thoughts to have noticed the sound of her approaching footsteps even with your ridiculously sensitive ears.

You smile and turn your head to look at her as she comes to a stop to your left. Her Avatar stands just over you by around two inches, but it is still enough to make you tilt your head back just slightly to meet her wide, yellow-green eyes. While your Avatar is just a little bit plusher than a typical Na’vi, in accordance with your human body, Margot’s is thin and tall. She’s beautiful in her human form, but there is just something…ethereal, about these bodies.

Truly, the strength, the agility, the beauty. It simply put human bodies to shame.

You’d spent an embarrassingly long time in front of a mirror when you first started linking, too consumed with awe to do much else but look. Wide, doe-like eyes covered by thick, long eyelashes, not unlike your human body. Sweet, round face, body made more slender by the natural physiology of the Na’vi. It was you, but different.

“What, am I missing something interesting back at the center?” you puff softly in disbelief. “The only thing even remotely entertaining is watching David make a fool of himself again, and even that is getting boring.”

Margot smiles and tilts her head in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest as she says, “Well, you got me there.”

You puff lightly again, this time more in irritation than disbelief. Your arms fold in front of your chest, unconsciously mirroring Margot’s stance. “Really, what’s the point of even being here if we aren’t going to do anything that actually means something? I’m tired of sitting around and staring at the walls all the damn time. It’s been two months and we should be out there, doing what we came here for!”

Fierce annoyance at the RDA suddenly bubbles in your stomach and makes your fists clench. You were a scientist for Christ’s sake, you weren’t meant to just sit around and do fuck all for the rest of your life. You needed to be out in the world, feeling and breathing in nature and science. You’d go crazy if you didn’t do something soon.

You can’t wait until you’re out in Pandora, hearing the breeze ruffle the leaves of the trees. To hear the loud, overwhelming noise of rushing water from a natural waterfall and not a man-made construct. To actually see and experience nature in real life and not through a screen

It had only been three days since Miss Hall had mentioned your team’s first outing into the wilderness of Pandora, but she claims to have received no word from the RDA about when that would happen.

Soon, she promised, but soon could not come fast enough for you.

Margot sighs. “I know. This fucking sucks, but we’ll be out before we know it. And hey, take the time to enjoy the peace and quiet for now. We’ll be up to our tits in research and paperwork soon, and then you’ll be wishing for time off.”

She pops her hip into yours and you wobble to the side. The brief anger that controlled you flees just as fast as it had come. Your hands unclench and your arms fall to your sides.

“Yeah, that’s true. I guess.” You mutter the last two words grumpily, pouting just a little bit.

Margot laughs and uncrosses her arms to throw one around your shoulders.

“We’ll be alright.”

She tilts her head back just as you had a few moments ago, breathing in the sweet air deeply. Her next words are quiet, tinged with heavy melancholy.

“You know, I always wondered what the Earth was like before we came. Do you think there was rain like this?”

You look up at the gray sky yourself. While the color matched the clouds back on Earth, these would eventually dissipate, replaced by a strong, blazing light that warmed everything it touched.

The pollution clouds back home were there to stay.

You swallow. “Yeah. I think there was.”

------

A few hours later, just before the eclipse begins to bring darkness over Bridgehead, you lay your Avatar down to rest in the sleeping quarters and link back into your human body. You were in your Avatar for over six hours, which means you now have a persistent headache that pounds sharply at your temples, a growling stomach, and an irritatingly full bladder.

After relieving yourself and walking to the mess hall to stuff yourself full of sandwiches and coffee, you march back to your room. You lay on your back atop your stiff mattress, staring vacantly up at the blank white ceiling as you struggle to think of something that would entertain you.

When no miracle suggestion arrives in your brain, you huff and sit back up. As you do, you catch sight of something brightly colored laying on your desk, and a wonderful, awful idea pops into your head. You rise from your bed and pad over to your desk and carefully pick the small thing up, raising it closer to your face so you could look at the details.

It’s a simple little thing, about the size of your palm. Small blue strings of beads connect to a green, rock-like pendant, and on the top is a metal circle for attaching a chain or cord to it like a necklace. The Na’vi words of tihawnu and hafyonr were etched into the pendant.

Protection and wisdom.     

You’d spent hours on finding the right materials for creating it, marching all across Bridgehead. Then you’d spent hours modeling it.

You made it for Quaritch.

The Na’vi have many pieces of jewelry, clothing, headpieces, and other items they wear with pride, items that have great meaning to them. You got the idea to make it for Quaritch the day he left, as something to give him when he got back. You figured it would be nice for him to have something other than just your words, pictures, and videos about the Na’vi, something tangible that he could actually hold. It wasn’t an authentic piece of Na’vi culture, but it would do.

He's probably back by now. Maybe I should just take it to him.

You consider the thought just briefly before thinking, why not? Not like I’m very fucking busy at the moment.

With that you put your shoes back on, fix your hair, and then you’re walking out the door.

As you make your way toward Quaritch’s room, you begin to have second thoughts. It’s entirely possible he won’t even be back yet, still stuck in meetings. Or maybe he is back, but he laughs right in your face when you give him the pendent, calling you all the stupid and, frankly, uncreative little nicknames he has for you.

Nerves begin to invade as your mind goes over every possibility, your gut twisting. Your face begins to scrunch up in a tight frown, eyebrows furrowing as you scowl darkly at your feet as you walk.

It’s fine, if he doesn’t like it then he doesn’t have to wear it! I’ll take it back and give it to someone who appreciates what I do, like Margot. Maybe I’ll even give it to David!

You think for a moment before wincing, quickly discarding that idea. You’d rather throw it straight into the garbage than give it to David of all people. The asshole would probably just think you were coming onto him or some shit like that.

You arrive at his door much quicker than you hoped, stopping in front and taking another moment to smooth down your clothes and take a deep breath. Then you hesitantly raise your right fist and knock three times on the door. If you can even call it knocking; they’re more light taps than anything else.

When you hear no movement or any footsteps approach the door, you knock three more times, this time making sure it’s loud and clear to hear.

Still, no one opens the door.

Fine with me!

Just as you turn to leave, ridiculously relieved he wasn’t even there, a deep, loud voice booms out from behind you on the other side of the hallway.

“Hey!”

You startle, heart leaping into your throat as you whirl around with wide eyes.

Standing before you is a Recom Unit soldier, one you’ve never seen around Bridgehead before. He’s almost as tall as Quaritch, but not quite as muscled, more lean. While most of the other Recom members you’ve seen have their hair shaved fairly close to their scalps, his is almost long in comparison, even if it is only by a few inches. He’s covered in all kinds of tattoos, wearing the usual green tank top and camo shorts of his unit. The only thing unusual about him is the way he looks even younger than any of the other Recoms.

His wide eyes seem to sparkle as he eats up the remaining distance between you in just two long strides, standing before you with a sharp-toothed, youthful grin. He comes to a stop only a foot from you and you have to take another two steps back to see him correctly. Even then, you have to crank your head back.

“Oh! Uh, hi?” you say nervously. What the hell does this guy even want?

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you! I saw you knocking on Colonel Quaritch’s door. You gotta be Peach, right?” he asks. His smile doesn’t fade even a little bit as he talks.  

Your eyebrows rise in surprise before you can help yourself.

Peach? How the hell does this guy know about Quaritch’s little nickname for you? Quaritch can’t have mentioned you to his team in enough detail that they’d be able to spot you standing in a random hall, could he?

Your surprise must show on your face because his grin softens into something a little more genuine. That fierce sparkle never leaves his eyes, though.

“Must wonder how I know you, huh? Quaritch told us all about your little arrangement.”

…Really?

You can’t help your skepticism; you’d never have thought Quaritch would willingly admit to his Recombinants that he needed help with something, let alone help from a ‘science puke’.

The man laughs at the look on your face, eyes scrunching up at the corners. He leans his torso down just slightly to look you better in the eye before he says, “You know, he talks about you a lot. Well, a lot for a man like Quaritch. If you want, I can take you to see him.”

Your mind wavers, torn between being utterly bewildered at the thought of Quaritch talking about you, a lot, apparently, and between considering whether the effort of going with this random stranger to find Quaritch was even worth it.

Eventually, you sigh and nod your head reluctantly in agreement. It’d be much weirder if you backed down now. And besides, you’d already made all this effort. Might as well see it through.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

The young man’s grin grows even sharper. He straightens up and sticks his hand out in greeting.

“Cool! My name’s Leo Williams, but you can just call me Williams. If you just follow me, I’ll take you right to the Colonel.”

You clasp his hand with your right hand as best you can, and your entire arm moves up and down with his force as he shakes you vigorously.

This guy is like an excited little puppy.

He releases your arm and then turns around back toward where he came from. He takes three long strides before you remember you’re supposed to be following after him, and you lurch toward his direction, walking quickly to reach him before he rounds the corner of the hallway.

You catch up to him just in time before he leaves your sight. You have to fast walk to keep up with his ridiculous pace, almost jogging at one point. Luckily for you, he seems to notice your predicament, and he slows down with a sheepish grin until you’re walking much easier. While your Avatar body was now in shape and could walk and run easily without even getting out of breath, your original body is defiantly not in such good condition. Especially with all the muffins and coffee you’ve been having these past two months to stave off the boredom.

You walk for a few more minutes before you gather the courage to squeak out, “What have you heard of me?”

“Oh, nothing all that interesting. Quaritch just likes to bitch about the lessons he has to take with you. ‘If you wanna find the Na’vi, you gotta think like the Na’vi’. You know, that kind of shit.” Williams laughs, tossing up air quotes as he mocks Quaritch’s deep voice and unique way of speech. He playfully rolls his eyes when he’s done, looking down at you and shooting you another grin.

“Oh.” You say simply, dejectedly. You scowl at the floor as you continue your path.

It was expected that he’d complain about it, but still. He could be less of a dick about it.

Now that you got him talking, Williams doesn’t shut up for the next twenty minutes. He leads you out of the building, across several busy platforms, and into another building you’ve never been in before. He chats all the while, seemingly about nothing of any importance. He only pauses a few times to let you respond to his questions or give your own opinion before he’s off again, talking about something completely different.

By the time you seemingly reach your destination, you are sorely missing Quaritch’s biting words. At least with him there were comfortable pauses of silence.

You both walk through the sliding glass doors and into a wide area, passing all sorts of massive workout machinery and equipment. Dumbbells the size of your torso litter the ground. Large mirrors reflect your image and the bright, fluorescent lights across the entire area, and you look at your reflection. Just as you thought, you look ridiculously small and insignificant walking next to the giant, bright blue Williams.

This must be the gym area for the Recom Unit. It looks like a playground for giants.

“Well, look who it is. Where the hell you been, Williams?” As you turn a corner, another Recom member pops out of nowhere, slowly setting down the jump ropes he’d been using. He’s panting a little bit, completely shirtless with dark, tattooed words and patterns across his arms, chest, and navel.

“Ah, sorry! I got a little distracted with some of the software I’ve been working on, took me a bit longer than I thought it would to finish. Then I ran into a little someone knocking on Quaritch’s door.” He looks down at you, grinning sheepishly.

Another one comes out of a room full of treadmills. She’s almost as tall as the men she comes to a stop in front of you. Just like the rest of the others you’ve seen, her arms and part of her upper chest are covered in tattoos. But while theirs had been dark and mostly black, hers are full of vibrant yellows, reds, purples, and blues. The colors stand out starkly against her bright blue skin, but the contrast is beautiful. Her hair is pulled back into almost a mohawk style, and she wore it well.

Her golden eyes pierce yours as she looks down at you. Her mouth pulls up into a skeptical sneer.

You suddenly realize you’re completely surrounded by three massive, tattoo-covered, insanely muscular humanoids who excel in combat and are total strangers to you. You can easily admit to yourself that you’re intimidated. Not because you fear for your safety or anything, but because you can only dream about becoming as good as these guys. Only the best of the best can be a part of Quaritch’s team; you know he expects nothing less.

They tower over you by several feet, and you feel like a tiny mouse caught by three giant cats.

Your already fast heartbeat picks up in your chest and you can feel a cold sweat trying to break out on your body. Your face burns from the intense attention you suddenly find yourself the center of. If you had known this would have happened when you knocked on Quaritch’s door, you would have said fuck it and booked it out of there as fast as you could. You’re not afraid, but goddamn are you nervous right now. You really, really want to make a good impression on these people. You’re nowhere near their skill level, and you really wish you were in your Avatar. At least then you’d have some level on them, even if it was minuscule. And you wouldn’t feel so small.

The woman seems to notice your increasing nerves, but thankfully she doesn’t point it out to make fun. Instead, her smirk grows wider and her eyes sharpen.

“What’s this little pipsqueak doing with a knucklehead like you, huh, Williams?” The woman asks, crossing her arms over her chest. The motion causes her biceps to bulge under her tattoos, and she pops her bright pink bubblegum as she scans your body up and down. Her eyebrow raises, expectantly waiting for an answer.

You swallow and lift a hand in a quick nervous wave. You introduce yourself by your first name and weakly say, “Uh, hi! I’m just here for Quaritch, I’ve got something for him.”

“‘Here for Quaritch’, huh?” The woman snickers. She looks you over again slower and much more obviously, this time with less of a calculative look and more of something with a strange gleam in her eye. She smirks when she meets your wide-eyed gaze again, before she loudly says, “You must be Peach.”

Goddamnit! I might as well change that to my permanent name at this point!

Your lips thin, but you manage to laugh weakly and mutter, “Yeah, guess that’s me.”

“Hm. Well, it’s about time you met some of the unit, given that Colonel Quaritch is the head of our team. My name’s Z-Dog,” she pops her gum for emphasis, smug smile never leaving her face, “This asshole here is Lopez. He’s a quiet guy, you won’t be hearing much from him.”

Z-Dog smacks a hand across Lopez’s back, and the cracking sound of her hand making contact with his bare skin and the sheer force of the hit makes you wince. If she ever hit you with even half of that strength, you’d have a dark bruise spanning your entire back for at least a month.

Lopez doesn’t even seem to feel it, though, not even moving an inch from the force or grimacing. Instead, he just rolls his eyes at Z-Dog’s words and starts rubbing his hands with a nearby towel.

You have to wonder if hitting each other isn’t just a Quaritch thing, but something the Recom Unit as a whole just likes to do.

Lopez looks you over in the same considering way Williams and Z-Dog had. While you had been able to figure out at least a little bit of their thoughts, Lopez is a blank slate, expression stoic. His yellow eyes simply flick over you once before returning your gaze.

“And you obviously already met Williams. You need to watch your things when he’s around, the little shit likes to nick stuff when you aren’t paying attention.” She glares pointedly at Williams, who laughs guiltily but nods his head in agreement.

“Hey, I only take the things you aren’t going to be using! And I give them back eventually, you gotta admit that.”

Z-Dog scoffs and rolls her eyes but relents and turns her attention back to you. She tilts her head in consideration as she stares down at you. Her smirk grows salacious.

“So. You got something for Quaritch, huh? Can we see it?” The tone of her voice as she speaks makes it seem as though she doesn’t really think you have anything to show her.

Why else would I be here for Quaritch if I didn’t have something to say or give him?

“Couldn’t you have waited and given it to him tomorrow morning? Don’t you guys have your little, uh, lessons, then?” Z-Dog snickers and adjusts her hips just slightly enough for it to be suggestive. Lopez rolls his eyes and elbows her hard in the side of her stomach, but you can see his own small, crude smirk. Williams looks like he’s barely able to hold in his own laugh, rubbing at his jaw and flushing a light lilac.

No way.

You barely keep from gasping and clutching at your neck like you have pearls, but only just. If you had thought your face was red before, it’s nothing compared to the fire that spreads through your cheeks, ears, and all the way down your chest. Embarrassment and surprise are shockwaves through your limbs.

They totally think we’re fucking! Oh my god! Why?!

Their insinuations were not at all subtle, probably trying to get a reaction from you.

God, these fuckers are just like Quaritch.

You swallow thickly, dignity and pride fleeing from you quickly. They must think you’re some sort of pet for Quaritch, dropping everything to come when he calls. They think your lessons and training sessions are just when you and Quaritch-when you and Quaritch-

Oh, this is so humiliating! Why can’t they just act like grownups and not middle school boys! They’re making fun of you!

The overwhelming embarrassment coursing through you lights an angry fire in your stomach. Your fists clench at your sides, eyebrows furrowing.

“No, I can’t show it to you because it’s confidential, and I know that Quaritch does not like to be kept waiting, so if you don’t mind, I think I’ll be heading to him now.” The snap doesn’t come out as aggressive as you wanted it to, but the point gets across.

Z-Dog keeps snickering but relents, throwing her hands up. “Alright pipsqueak, we were just making fun. Williams will take you to him, don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Your anger blows away like smoke and you blink, relaxing your fists.

Well, that was easy.

“Besides, wouldn’t want to keep Quaritch waiting for his girl any longer, huh?”

Never mind.

You scowl but let it go. She’s just poking at you, trying to see how long it’ll take for you to blow. Just like Quaritch, really.

You turn your frown into a tight smile. “Thanks for your help.”

Z-Dog scans your face for anything else she can use to make you angry, before sighing deeply. She crosses her arms over her chest once more, and her smirk becomes just slightly more genuine.

“You know, I think I kind of like you, almost as much as the Colonel does. Guess we’ll see you around. Maybe you’ll meet more of the squad soon.” Z-Dog shoots you one last smirk. Lopez rolls his eyes at her again but gives you a tiny nod goodbye, and then they’re off, sauntering out of the room and toward the front of the gym with not a care in the world.

“Nice meeting you, Peach.” She tosses a peace sign over her shoulder before she’s out of your view.

You watch them go, stunned that this little conversation had even taken place. You really, really hope they weren’t off to tell the rest of the team about the stupid little human woman that was on her way to meet with Quaritch in private and wouldn’t even tell them why. That would be the last thing you need. Clearly, they already think something else is going on, and you don’t want to give them any more fuel than they already have to make fun. Are they as bored as you are and the only thing they can do to entertain themselves is sitting around gossiping like a bunch of old ladies?!

God, you can’t imagine what Quaritch must have said or done that got them all even thinking about this!

You’re jolted out of your concerned thoughts when Williams gently places a hand on your back.

“You ready to go, Peach?” he asks lightly.

You turn around and glare up at him, clearly still a little miffed about what just happened and the way he had laughed at your expense.

He has the shame to wince a little bit. “Yeah, sorry about that. The team can get a little…rowdy, when they’re bored.”

You stare at him harshly for a moment longer before sighing and nodding your head in acquiescence. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t something all that serious anyways.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Forgiven, Williams grins in relief before pushing you forward, his palm still in contact with your back.

“Quaritch should be right over in the weights section of the gym! He likes to spend a lot of time over there. I think it’s just something for him to do when he’s not ranting about Jake Sully and the Na’vi.”

He leads you deeper into the gym and up a flight of stairs before turning left.

“You know, I think he likes working out more than he likes the team, and-”

But the rest of Williams's sentence is drowned out, muted in your ears, because in front-in front of you is-

Oh…my god. Oh my god. Jesus. Fucking Christ.

Your thoughts, your concerns, your nervousness, it all drifts away and into the wind with nary an attempt to pull them back. Your mind goes blissfully blank, all too eager to focus on the sight in front of you.

Quaritch grunts and lifts his arms, raising a bar attached to a ridiculous number of weights. His sharp teethed are clenched, and for the first time, you actually see sweat heavily beaded on his face and chest.

And the real kicker, the thing that knocks your breath straight from your chest, is the fact that he’s shirtless.

You gape at the wide expanse of muscled, deep blue skin that’s proudly on display in front of you. Sweat glistens on his taught stomach, and his biceps bulge as he lifts the bar a few more times before setting it on the ledge. He pants for breath, pink tongue peeking out and tracing the line of his bottom lip.

He looks debauched.

Warmth blossoms deep in your stomach.

Williams’s constant stream of babble slowly filters back into your ears, and you blink. You hadn’t even noticed that your eyes had begun to burn from the time you had been staring at Quaritch, completely uninterrupted, not even blinking once.

You swallow thickly and struggle to break free of your trance. Even then, you don’t tear your eyes away from Quaritch. Luckily, Williams is too focused on his own talking to care much about where you are looking.

Everything that has led to this moment has been so, so worth it.

Quaritch sits up, still breathing deeply, grabs a gray towel from the ground laying next to him, and uses it to wipe the sweat from his face. After he’s satisfied with that, he runs the towel over his chest and down toward his navel. The towel brushes the edge of his shorts, going under by just a centimeter.

You nearly swallow your tongue.

“…and even then, I definitely didn’t think he was going to be able to fit the whole thing in the helicarrier-oh hey, boss!”

Williams jolts out of his speech, lifting an exciting hand to wave at Quaritch even though he’s just on the other side of the room.

Quaritch finishes wiping the sweat from his body, face set in its usual neutral expression as he turns to look towards William’s loud voice. His yellow eyes flick several feet down from Williams's beaming face to your own. You don’t even know what your face looks like at this point; nervous, blank, or ridiculously dazed. You’re praying for blank.

Quaritch’s eyebrow raises when he sees you, surprise stretching over his face before it settles into the regular slow, sly grin he seems to favor. He lowers the towel and turns fully to face you.

Williams pushes you forward as he marches closer to Quaritch. His hand is still pressed against your back, as though you’re about to take this chance to run away.

Quaritch notices Williams’s proximity to you. His eyes seem to darken and he glares at him, teeth clenching once more. He stands from the workout equipment he had been using, and he even seems to tower over Williams’s lean form, let alone your own.

Williams notices Quaritch’s glare and jerks his arm away from you guiltily. Quaritch’s tense expression relaxes just a little bit.  

“Hey boss, looks like something sweet is here for you!”

“I can see that, kid. A peach, just for me?” Quaritch grins slyly.

You think you’ve set a new record for the number of times a person can blush in a day. Your already flushed face burns brighter at his words. The amount of heat radiating off of them is insane, and the overwhelming scent of Quaritch’s sweat is… strange. It’s not as sharp and pungent as human sweat, no, it’s almost sort of…sweet, like the rain you had smelled earlier.

Yeah, something sweet with an underlying hint of tartness, like citrus or lemon.

Whatever it is, it’s fucking good. You wonder if all members of the Recom Unit, all the ones stuck in their Avatar bodies, smell as good as he does. You hadn’t smelled anything from Z-Dog and Lopez, but they hadn’t been sweating as much as Quaritch.

You remember when you first met up with him while in your Avatar body, the way his rainwater and coffee smell nearly had you losing your mind. If that’s what it’s going to be like if you meet others of the Recom Unit while in your Avatar, you’re going to have to avoid them forever so you don’t embarrass yourself.

Why the fuck does Quaritch always smell so good?! What kind of body wash is he using, and where can I get some?

Your lips press together before you smile hesitantly and reply,

“Ha. Yep, it’s me. I just, uh, I just came to give you a-”

You choke and cut yourself off before you can finish your sentence.

I can’t fucking say I’m here to give Colonel Quaritch what’s practically a fucking friendship pendant! He’d kill me!

You cough lightly and resume your sentence, hoping nobody noticed your pause. “I have something for you?” It comes out more of a squeaky question than a statement.

But Quaritch doesn’t make fun of your voice like you thought he would, for once not rising to the easy bait. Instead, he simply raises another eyebrow and repeats, slowly, like you’re an idiot, “Something?”

Williams wiggles his eyebrows again as he looks down at you, mouth opening quickly to say something you know you won’t like. Quaritch notices and glowers at him before snapping, “That’ll be all, soldier.”

Williams closes his mouth with a click and holds his hands up in mock defeat as he backs away from you and Quaritch. His sharp smile stretches across his face boyishly and he makes finger guns at you while saying, “Bye, Peach!”

You and Quaritch watch Williams’s lean form leave the weights area via the sliding glass door. Neither of you speaks until the door slides all the way shut again, leaving only silence.

He sighs deeply, as though he has all the weight of the world on him just because you came to see him. It makes you scowl.

“Alrigh’, Peach. What’s so important you couldn’t wait till tomorrow?” He crosses his arms over his chest. You struggle to keep your eyes on his face and not on his bare skin. He’s so tall that it makes that simple task so hard, because all you want to do is just look down slightly, and he probably wouldn’t even be able to tell you were ogling him.

You open your mouth and suddenly find your brain devoid of words.

Quaritch groans and tosses his head back in exasperation before he grabs a hold of your right upper arm. He leads you over to the steep staircase you had struggled up when Williams lead you to Quaritch, and gestures for you to stay at the top. You follow his command, albeit confused, and he takes a few steps down the platform. His height shrinks just a little bit

He stands just a little bit away from you, but now you don’t have to crane your neck to look up at him and he doesn’t have to look down at you so far. You’re still much shorter than him, but still, it’s much better. 

You’re surprised he even bothered; the past times you had spoken to him while in your human form, he had used your height difference to intimidate you, scare you into helping him. This was a surprisingly kind gesture. You're also astounded he hadn't just made you stand on a stool like a toddler. 

You grin at him, entirely too warm-faced.

He notices and scoffs. “I just didn’t want to have to bend down and break my damn back to talk to you, is all.” There’s another brief pause before he snaps,

“Well? I don’t have all damn day.”

Before you lose the meager amount of courage you had mustered in your heart, you gingerly take the green pendant from your pocket and lifted it between your bodies. It’s grasped tightly in your hand, your fingers clenched around it before you loosen your grip.

Your stomach tightens before you can speak, butterflies erupting deep in your gut. You can already feel your face blushing. Your eyes flutter down to the ground before you can stop yourself, just so you don’t have to see whatever unpleasant expression will come over Quaritch’s face.

You reach over and grab Quaritch’s hand as best you can, lifting his arm. Surprisingly, he lets you. You carefully press the pendant into his blue palm, fingers tingling when they brush against his. Your hands linger together for just a moment too long for it to be casual before you quickly move away with an awkward cough. You swallow thickly, opening your mouth hesitantly before you quietly say,

“I made this for you. It’s just a pendant. The Na’vi believe that the word on it brings protection and wisdom. I know it’s not really authentic, given that it was made by a human and out of materials found around Bridgehead, but I just figured you might want something physical to go along with our lessons. Just so it isn’t only my words and the pictures I show you, I don’t know.” You babble on and on, too afraid to stop talking.  

You lift your eyes hesitantly to look at him, gaze flickering across his face quickly to take in his thoughts. His face is blank, but there is a look in his eyes. Confusion, perhaps, or maybe disbelief? There’s a slight furrowing of his eyebrows, but he doesn’t immediately scoff or make fun of you like you thought he would.

“…For me?”

He slowly lifts his arm, as if expecting you to leap backward and laugh in his face. He brings the pendant closer to his face to examine it.

“I dunno, I just thought you might like to have something kind of from them, just to, uh, really put yourself in their mindset, I guess. You don’t actually have to wear it or anything, I just figured you might want to look at it? But yeah, I made it for you.”

Your voice trails off near the end of your sentence, becoming quieter and quieter until you’re almost whispering. Your shoulders lower in on yourself and you grasp your left wrist in your hand in front of your body, quietly putting your head down and looking at the floor.

A few seconds pass in tense silence. When Quaritch makes no sound and doesn’t move a muscle, you discreetly raise your head slightly and take a peek at his face. Your fists clench tightly and your stomach drops when you see his expression remains stoic, eyebrows lowered and eyes filled with an emotion you simply cannot name.

Stupid, stupid! This was a bad idea! He hates the Na’vi, why would you even make something that you knew he wouldn’t even-

Quaritch clears his throat and your head shoots up fully to meet his eyes with your own wide, too-hopeful ones. You imagine you look like a sad, stupid little girl, but you just can’t help yourself. Every time you talk with him, you always seem to forget yourself, say and do and feel more than you should.

He stares down at you, eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to.

“Thank you.”

The words are spoken so softly you barely hear them, but they’re enough to make the tension release its hold on and sweet relief and warmth bloom in your chest.

He accepted it, he didn’t even throw it back in your face!

You relax, shoulders relaxing. A deep, unbidden sigh leaves your mouth before you can help yourself. You beam up at him, happy eyes suddenly scrunching up slightly from the force of your smile, face surely alight with joy. You suddenly feel ridiculously delighted.

Oh. I’m so glad I did this.

Quaritch looks surprised at your obvious reaction, and his bright yellow eyes soften. Unknown emotion flickers across his face before it’s gone in a flash and even more surprise takes over. His ears flick twice on the sides of his head.

He returns your smile almost hesitantly. His eyes are still stunning and they almost glow, even in the bright lights of the gym center.

He looks the most unsure and taken aback you’ve ever seen him, but his smile. Oh, the smile is so different from his usual sly smirks or smug grins.

This smile is genuine and small and sweet.

He looks so pretty.

Your chest clenches and you swallow hard. Your heart begins to pound, breath coming quickly. A tight, overwhelming urge to move, to do something vividly overcomes you. Your hands twitch at your sides, your feet shuffle an inch closer. You can’t help the way your eyes drift down to his soft-looking lips just once before quickly snapping back to Quaritch’s gaze.

Even on the steps he’s so much taller than I am right now. Maybe-Maybe I could get him to lower himself down so I could kiss him-

Your eyes pop wide and you almost gasp, viscously jerked straight out of your vivid thoughts as you realize what you’d been thinking. That wonderful, fuzzy feeling of warmth that clouded your thoughts abruptly pops, and you’re left in the unrelenting grip of cold, unfeeling reality.

Holy shit!

You jerk back a step with a quick breath and break the fierce eye contact you had been holding with Quaritch for an unknown time. It could have been seconds or minutes, you don’t even know anymore.

It seems you weren’t the only one lost in the moment. The second you step back the spell is broken, and Quaritch jerks back in the same manner you had. You hadn’t even realized he had been leaning closer as well, muscles just as tense as yours, chest frozen still as though he wasn’t breathing.

Even now, even though he had moved back, he refuses to look away from you. You clear your throat loudly and smooth an unsteady hand over your pristine, unwrinkled shirt, and you can feel his intense yellow eyes burning into the side of your face.

The both of you remain still, neither one wanting to make the first move of shifting backward or forwards.

Eventually, Quaritch takes a step closer into your bodily space. The smell of him becomes even stronger, and you can’t help the way you breathe it in deeply one last time, mind unwillingly going fuzzy, before holding your breath. You’re frozen, unable to move as he hovers over you.

You find the courage to finally look up from the ground to return his intense gaze. The sight that meets you stuns you, makes your heart thunder in your chest.

The warmth from earlier returns with a vengeance, swirling down deep in your stomach. A pulse begins to pound between your legs, and you shift as unnoticeable as you can.

Quaritch’s eyes are dark and burning, and you’re locked in, helpless now. You can’t move even as he lowers his head down to yours, and for one thrilling moment, you think he’s going to press his lips against yours. Your mouth tingles just from the thought. You want to close your eyes, but your brain refuses.

Instead of kissing you, a large hand gently presses a soft thumb against the tender, sensitive skin of your pink bottom lip.

You gasp, gaze lowering and cheeks burning. Your breath comes quick, fluttering against his hand as your chest rises and falls. If someone saw you now, they would think you looked just as debauched as you thought Quaritch looked earlier, cheeks rosy and eyes glossed over.

He consumes every angle of your view. He overwhelms your senses so much that the only thing you can feel is him, think is him.

His thumb presses closer, so close to touching your tongue, and you just can’t take it anymore.

Your pink little tongue brushes against his skin, taking a taste before darting away just as fast as it dared, but it's too late.  

Quaritch hisses between his sharp clenched teeth, long and strained, and your eyes dart back up to his face. Your heart jolts when you realize he’s enjoying this as much as you are, as tempted as you are. His pupils are massive, leaving only a ring of gold. Tension and, god, desire battle on his face.  

“You know, Peach, I’m not sure how much of this I can handle before I take what I want.” The words are tense, whispered through clamped teeth, and you want, oh how badly you want to give in, to smash your lips to his. But there’s something that warns you in the back of your head, something that hisses that once he’s had you he’ll abandon you. You’re just a new, shiny little toy that he’ll fuck and be done with. You won’t matter to him if you sleep with him.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Against everything, all your instincts, all the voices, all your gut says, you like Quaritch. You like spending time with him, like the way his eyes crinkle whenever he laughs, like the way he teases you. You like his curled smile, like how hard he always seems to make you laugh, the way your skin tingles whenever you touch, the way he gets adorably frustrated when he fumbles a Na’vi word, the way he never lets you give up, even when you’re exhausted. You could go on and on and on.

You want to matter to him. He's important to you now. 

The reality hits you hard. You have feelings for Quaritch. 

So far on Pandora, Quaritch has been the main person that has kept you sane. Margot is a blessing, but what you feel for Quaritch is so different. Yes, he can be a massive dick sometimes, and yes, he has a very strange, almost obsessive hatred toward certain people. There are a lot of bad things you can say about him, but it’s the small, almost unnoticeable, kind things he does for you. Just being in his presence makes you stupidly pleased.

Maybe it’s just you turning crazy from being on an alien planet, bored, and suddenly having a whirlwind of chaos crashing into your life. Maybe it’s from spending hours together every day for months, pressed up against one another and fighting and learning and teaching. Seeing rare little parts of one another that no one else seems to see. You’ve shown him vulnerability, and he’s shown it to you as well, in his own way. You highly doubt he’s walking around brushing eyelashes from other people’s cheeks or thanking them so softly when they give him things.

You really, really like him.

And you don’t want to ruin that.

So, you shift back.

It’s just an inch, barely more than a centimeter, but it makes all the difference. Suddenly, you can breathe again.

Air rushes into your lungs, and the world around you seems to shift and open up. It’s not just you and Quaritch standing on a staircase, lost in one another. The sound of the overhead fan filters into your ears, and cool air brushes against your cheeks. Your fuzzy head clears, and the tenseness in your body fades as you relax, resolute in your decision.

You want, oh how you want, but it’s just too soon. If you slept together and things ended badly, whatever you had with Quaritch would be ruined, and you’d spend the rest of your life avoiding him.

You want Quaritch to be in your life, god help you.

So you’ll wait, until you’re sure he actually, fully cares about you. Until you’re sure he isn’t just playing with you, isn’t just wanting to fuck you because you’re something new.

And if that never happens, then fuck it, you’re fine being friends with him until he gets bored.

You open your eyes you hadn’t even realized you shut and look up. Quaritch is already looking at you. His eyes are still mostly black, and he surprises you when he speaks.  

“You’re testing my patience, Peach.” The words are supposed to convey annoyance, but his tone is as gentle and understanding as you’ve ever heard it. You’d had no idea he could sound like that.

Fondness strikes you hard.  

You stretch your arm over the steps and reach up as high as you can, standing on your tiptoes. Your fingers barely brush against the soft skin of his right cheek. Just for a second, Quaritch leans down until your hand can better encompass his face. He tilts his head and leans into you, yellow eyes looking like warm, melted butter. His desire still burns there, but it’s faded into something almost tender, and it makes your heart swell.

You realize that maybe Quaritch doesn’t want to lose your tentative, fragile little relationship either.  

He’s always surprising me.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Quaritch.” You whisper softly. You stroke his face one last time before dropping your arm.

“…See you tomorrow, Peach.” He says, just as quietly as you before he leans back.

You look into his eyes one last time, and then step to the side and walk past him. You hear him turn to watch you go.

“Hey, Peach?”

You turn around as you make it so the bottom of the stairs, hands in your jean pockets. Quaritch stands higher up than ever before, and a wide expanse of stairs separates you.

“…Thanks again.” He lifts his arm, and you can see the flash of green of your pendant clutched gently in his large blue hand.

You smile. “Of course, Quaritch.”

Tagging: I tried to get everyone!!

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[edenfenixblogs]

I’ve been thinking about this song a lot lately. There’s so much ire about songs by people on both sides of the I/P conflict right now. But I keep coming back to this.

When this song came out, Ireland was steeped in The Troubles. But the conflict was within Ireland. And the beauty of this song was that it honored the dead and condemned violence of all people. And it spoke up for the victims. Regardless of who they were or what side their families were on.

I wish the world could hold Jews and Palestinians in their hearts the same way. I wish we could all mourn together then start healing together too.

Some lines feel like they’re written about us all right now:

But you see / It’s not me / It’s not my family / In your head / In your head / They are fighting

I feel this so deeply. It’s not me or my family. Whoever you’re imagining in your head that is wanting this violence and whoever you are imagining in your head is thrilled to wake up and go to war—that’s not me or my family. That’s not anyone I know. That’s not any Jew I know.

And I know many Muslims and Palestinians feel the same way.

It's the same old theme / since 1916/ In your head, in your head / they're still fightin'

With their tanks and their bombs and their bombs and their guns / In your head / in your head / they are dyin'

This line, to me, makes me think about the people who are fighting and who do want war. The extremists on both sides. They’re not fighting for their people now. Not the ones who are alive. They are fighting to avenge people whose grandparents wronged someone else’s grandparents who wronged their grandparents, etc.

And it’s not that those wrongs are unimportant and shouldn’t be addressed, but no amount of fighting will undo damage that’s already done. “In your head they are dying,” but they aren’t because they’re dead and gone already. And the people you’re hurting now are just going to remember that you’ve hurt them. But you can’t change the past or bring back the dead. They’re not fighting anymore, and we shouldn’t either.

While I understood the emotion of the song, I never really understood the importance of the word zombie in the song before 10/7.

In your head / in your head

Zombie / zombie / zombie-ie-ie

What's in your head / in your head?

Zombie / zombie / zombie-ie-ie-ie…

I get it now. This conflict is like a horde of zombies but they’re all piloted by the zombies in your head. The mutated corpses of the ones who’ve already died at this all-consuming disease of a conflict. And more violence won’t solve anything. All it will do is create more zombies. The only solution is just to stop. We can’t keep sleep waking into killing each other like we’re mindless zombies. It has to end. We have to tell Netanyahu and the Likud and Hamas and Hezbollah all to go fuck themselves because their strategies aren’t solving anything.

We have to stop letting them turn us all into zombies in their heads or their politics will turn us all into corpses in reality.

Choose peace.

Choose life.

Choose a future.

[blkdaddie]

A New Day

Part of the Natural As Breathing Series

The sun was just creeping up, castin that soft, warm glow through the lace curtains. The kind that make you feel like the day’s gonna be alright, no matter what. But this morning, I knew it wasn’t just any day. Them pains started in the middle of the night, slow and easy at first, but now they was coming on strong. It was time.

 I made the room ready earlier, pushing furniture aside, clearing a space on the floor where I could move ‘round and do what needed doing. Mama’s old quilt was laid out, those patches full of memories, and a pile of fresh towels and blankets beside it, waiting to catch new life. Nate, bless him, had his doctor stuff all set up too—his little black bag, a basin of warm water, and all the things he said was necessary. He’d been my anchor, calm and steady, just like I needed him to be.

The knock came at the door. Miss Lucille, one of the church ladies, had come by to take the kids for the day. I could hear them little feet scampering toward the door, excited to have a visit at Miss Lucille’s. She always spoiled ‘em, giving ‘em cookies and tellin’ stories about when she was a girl.

“Y’all behave for Miss Lucille now,” I called out, wincin’ as another pain gripped me. “And don’t be givin’ her no trouble, ya hear?”

“Yes, Daddy!” came the chorus of little voices, and I heard the door creak open, Miss Lucille’s warm voice spillin’ into the house.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing,” she said, peekin’ into the room, her eyes full of kindness. “I got these babies. You focus on bringin’ that new one into the world for me to spoil.”

“Thank ya, Miss Lucille,” I managed to say, breathin’ through another wave. “I know they in good hands.”

She nodded, then ushered the kids out the door, leavin’ the house quiet, save for the sound of my breathin’ and the shuffle of Nate movin’ around.

Them contractions kept coming, stronger with each pass. I found myself swaying and breathin’ through ‘em, tryin’ to stay in control. Nate was right there, his hand on my back, warm and firm. He’d check me every now and then, his touch sure, but tender. I could see that look in his eyes, that mix of doctor and husband, both focused and full of love.

Been a doctor for years now, but I swear he turns into a different man when it’s his own child comin’. All that fancy schoolin’ don’t do nothin’ to calm his nerves when it’s his baby on the way.

When the pains got closer together, he helped me down to that quilt. His voice, always so smooth and steady, kept me grounded. “You’re doing great,” he said, squeezin’ my hand like he meant it. “Not much longer now.”

I took comfort in that room, filled with pieces of the past—Mama’s quilt, family pictures, the smell of the lilacs outside the window. It was like bein’ wrapped up in all the love that came before me, holdin’ me steady when things got tough.

“Breathe with me,” Nate murmured, his voice a gentle guide. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I did as he said, breathin’ deep, tryin’ to ride them waves of pain instead of fightin’ ‘em. The baby was pushin’ down hard now, and I could feel it, that life inside me wantin’ to meet the world. Nate was right there, helpin’ me shift, findin’ the spots where the hurt eased up just a little.

After all the sweatin and gruntin my body knew when to push, all my muscles workin to help this baby on its way . I never was scared of hard work and birth is some of the hardest. I grunted as the baby crowned and paused to catch my breath when the head finally come out. “Nathaniel!” I growled, my use of his full gov’ment name let him know I was hittin my limit. “I’m sorry babe. Just hold on, almost there.”  I grit my teeth as he poked around to check the cord, then nodded when he gave me the go-head.  With one last push, I felt that baby slide into Nate’s hands. There ain’t no words for that feelin’—the release, the relief, the pure joy. Nate, all careful and gentle, cleaned the baby up before layin’ that little bundle right on my chest. Warm and wrigglin’, our child, finally here.

The baby’s first cries filled the room, and I swear it was the sweetest sound I ever heard. I gave a soft chuckle; now I know why Mama did this 8 times. Holding this new soul is pure heaven. Nate was still workin’, makin’ sure everything was right—clampin’ the cord, cuttin’ it just so, then wrappin’ up our baby in a soft blanket.

“We done good, huh?” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Nate nods, leanin’ down to kiss my forehead. “We did, love. We did.”

Eventually, Nate helps me get settled, and we lie there together, our baby nestled between us. The house is quiet, peaceful. This is home.