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kasagia · 8 months ago

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Right hand II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.

You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.

Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.

And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.

A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.

"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.

"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.

"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…

However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.

You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.

"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.

You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.

"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…

"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."

"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.

For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.

He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.

"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.

"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.

"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.

You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.

"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.

"So what about this? Are you scared?"

"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.

You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.

"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.

It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.

You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.

Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.

"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.

"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.

He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.

"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.

"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.

He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:

"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.

"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."

"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.

"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.

"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.

You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.

"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"

"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.

He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.

You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.

You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.

“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.

"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.

You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.

"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.

"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.

"If I know them, then yes, why?"

"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.

"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.

"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.

"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.

"Don't we?"

"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.

"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.

He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.

You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.

You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.

The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...

“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.

As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.

“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.

"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."

"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.

"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.

"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.

Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.

It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.

"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.

He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...

"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.

"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'

He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before?

He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.

But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.

"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.

You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.

Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.

And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.

"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.

"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.

"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.

"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."

"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.

"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.

You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.

"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."

"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"

"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.

"What?"

"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."

"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.

"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"

"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.

"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.

No. I was supposed to be your pet.

"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.

"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.

"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.

"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.

You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.

"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...

"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.

You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.

"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.

"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...

"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."

As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.

You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.

You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.

On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.

What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.

You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.

At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.

"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.

"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.

"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."

This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.

You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.

He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.

At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.

You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.

"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."

You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.

You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...

You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.

"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.

Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...

He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.

"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.

"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.

"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.

You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.

The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.

"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"

"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.

"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.

"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.

"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.

You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.

You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.

The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.

As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.

"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.

"The little witch is in trouble…"

"Our master will be very angry with her…"

"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"

They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.

"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.

"The little witch's friend is here…"

"Our master is interrogating her…"

"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."

"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."

"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."

And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.

"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.

You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.

You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.

So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.

You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.

You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.

Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.

"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."

"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.

"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."

"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.

"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.

Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.

You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.

You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.

You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.

You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..

You were the only one left alive.

From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.

You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.

And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.

You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.

For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.

But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.

You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.

Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...

Part IIITaglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13

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sunboki · 9 months ago

Text

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk—letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here—“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

Text

Bulletproof (4/?)

Part Summary: There's a new recruit who seems to have taken a liking to you. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies, Gay disasters

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Part Five | Series Masterlist

The newest recruit, Daisy Johnson, seems to have taken a liking to you.

At least, that's what Wanda Maximoff has observed since Daisy's inclusion earlier this week.

From the corner of her eye, Wanda constantly catches the newbie stealing glances at you during training, meals, and even debriefing sessions. It's not that she keeps tabs on you or anything, but she can't help but notice when you catch someone’s attention, especially when that someone seems to be nearly everywhere you are.

In every training session, Wanda notes Daisy choosing to partner up with you or standing close by during briefings. Even in the more relaxed moments within the compound, Daisy seems irresistibly drawn to you. Wanda doesn't miss how Daisy occasionally throws prolonged glances your way, or how she laughs a tad too enthusiastically at something you say.

And it doesn't help that you and she walk on eggshells around each other since your confession in your old cell.

Neither of you has made any attempts to talk to the other again. Not even a glance, as if pretending the other doesn't exist will make that fateful night disappear. But for Wanda, the more she tries to push it out of her mind, the more sharply it edges back in, refusing to be forgotten.

She can't help but wonder: Was it wrong of her to move like that in her sleep? And were you out of line for not waking her up right away?

And more importantly: Were you so repulsed by it that you chose a prison cell over sharing her bed?

All these questions keep swimming in her mind, to the point where she has considered going to whoever handles this sort of stuff at the compound—kind of like an HR Department, but for Avengers. Perhaps a course on understanding boundaries might help you both move past this and start anew.

But then again, addressing it means dealing with it, and right now, just avoiding the whole mess seems so much easier.

As Wanda turns a corner in one of the compound's sprawling hallways, her eyes catch sight of you and Daisy. You’re both laughing, heads thrown back, not a care in the world. Wanda's eyes involuntarily narrow at the sight, taking note of the negligible distance between you two. Daisy's hand is resting lightly on your arm, fingers dancing along the fabric of your shirt as she emphasizes a point in her story.

Wanda tries to walk past nonchalantly, yet can't seem to dispel the feelings that bubble up each time she sees you with Daisy.

It's maddening. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

But they aren't.

And she does.

Wanda's patience is tested to its limits one Saturday afternoon.

Tasked with joining Sam to whip up dinner for the team's weekly movie night, she's diligently chopping vegetables in the expansive kitchen when Daisy sidles up to her.

“Hey, uh, Wanda, right?” Daisy begins, a casual tone to her voice.

Wanda doesn’t even look up as she answers, “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something about Y/N?”

Wanda's grip on the knife tightens just a fraction, her posture stiffening. “I think it’s better if you ask Vision–he monitors all of us even more closely than the cameras we have everywhere.”

As the words leave Wanda's mouth, Vision, who’s been quietly tinkering with a device on the other side of the kitchen, looks up suddenly, his usually stoic face showing a hint of surprise.

“I assure you, I do no such thing,” he starts, his tone a touch defensive. “Monitoring everyone is not part of my programming or my personal interests.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Sure, Vis. Everyone needs a hobby, right?”

Vision clears his throat, looking somewhat flustered, “It is not a 'hobby' of mine.”

Wanda can't help but smirk slightly at Vision's discomfort, her attention briefly diverted from the awkwardness with Daisy. “It's just a joke, Vision. Relax.”

He gives a curt nod, turning his attention back to the device in his hand, though he remains noticeably quiet.

Daisy chuckles lightly, but her curiosity remains unsated. “Anyway, back to Y/N?” She prompts, looking expectantly at Wanda. “Steve mentioned that if anyone on the team knows Y/N best, it'd be you, considering you two shared a room.”

Fucking Steve.

Wanda takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She finally glances up to meet Daisy's eyes, her expression guarded. “What do you want to know?”

“Is Y/N... you know, single? And what do you think of them?”

Wanda's eyebrows shoot up, her eyes sharpening immediately. She places the knife down on the countertop with more force than necessary. “Why do you ask?”

Sam whistles softly, making it obvious he's eavesdropping. “Damn, getting intense over here,” he comments with a grin, making no effort to hide his amusement.

Daisy shoots him an exasperated look, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Trying to have a conversation here, Wilson.”

Ignoring Sam's teasing, Wanda presses, “I just want to know why you're asking.”

Daisy sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “We've been talking a lot, and I was just... curious.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chimes in, “Curious or interested?"

Daisy rolls her eyes. "Nosy much?"

Wanda reaches for the shredder and starts grating all the remaining vegetables rather aggressively.

Sam laughs before lifting the spatula to his lips to sample the soup he’s making. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”

“Why don't you focus on your soup, Sam?” Wanda retorts, though her eyes never leave her task.

Sam smirks, catching the hint of jealousy in Wanda's tone, and decides to push just a little further. “You know, Wanda, if you have something to say about Y/N, now's the time.”

Wanda's eyes flash red for a brief moment. Sam holds his hands up in mock surrender, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face.

Daisy looks between them in confusion.

Taking a moment, Wanda sets the shredder aside and faces Daisy squarely. “Y/N almost risked their life to save mine. If you're looking for a testament to their character, well, actions like that are rare to come by.”

“And as for Y/N’s relationship status,” she continues, a bit reluctantly, “I believe they're single.”

Daisy's gaze becomes gentle, a dreamy quality entering her eyes. “That's... truly heroic,” she whispers, almost to herself. Wanda feels a sudden urge to throw up.

She then flashes a grateful smile at Wanda. “Thanks, Wanda. That means a lot coming from you.”

Wanda merely nods before clearing her throat. “Well, now that that's settled, could someone pass the salt?”

It’s Sam who hands it over, but not before saying, “Try not to add too much. We wouldn't want dinner to be as salty as some people's moods.”

Tony is, unsurprisingly, first in line, eagerly eyeing the roasted vegetables. “If the taste is half as good as the smell, we’re in for a treat tonight.”

Steve chuckles, replying, “I think we can trust Wanda and Sam's culinary skills by now.”

Natasha and Clint are engrossed in a deep conversation about an upcoming mission, while Bruce discusses some new upgrades with Tony. Vision, for his part, is explaining to Peter the intricacies of using Wanda's food processor.

As the chatter continues, Wanda moves to retrieve the centerpiece of the dinner: a golden-brown roasted chicken. She feels everyone's eyes on her, awaiting the moment the chicken will land on the table. However, her gaze is involuntarily drawn to the table where she sees you and Daisy sitting next to each other, laughing about something.

In that split second of distraction, her fingers graze the scalding metal rack of the oven. A sharp hiss escapes her lips, the sudden pain evident on her face. Dropping the oven mitts, she mutters a quick “Excuse me” and dashes off to the nearest bathroom, intending to run the burnt area under cold water.

You notice her quick exit and, after a brief moment of hesitation, quietly follow her. As you near the bathroom, the sound of running water reaches your ears.

Without knocking, you enter. Wanda is cradling her hand, trying to soothe the burn.

Your voice is soft with concern when you speak, “Wanda? Let me help.”

Wanda quickly pulls her hand away from the water, her eyes widening as she registers your arrival. “I’m fine,” she snaps, her posture tensing further. Water drips from her fingers onto the porcelain sink.

You take a hesitant step forward, your intent clear. “I can heal it. Just let me—”

“I said I'm fine,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. “Sometimes it's good to feel pain, you know, heal the natural way. Not everything needs a... quick fix.” She glances pointedly at you, an obvious jab at your abilities.

Your eyes narrow slightly at her comment, but you keep your emotions in check. “It's not about the quick fix, Wanda. It's about helping someone in pain, even if that someone is stubbornly pushing everyone away.”

She sighs, her defenses visibly waning. “Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be out there with Daisy?”

“What’s Daisy got to do with any of this?”

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze. Even if she has an answer ready, she's not sure she'd want to voice it.

With a sharp exhale, your frustration bubbles over.

“Fine,” you say tersely, pointing at her burned hand. “Let it scar then. See if I care.”

Moving swiftly, you leave the bathroom without waiting for her response.

Wanda stays there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to steady herself. When she finally decides to rejoin the team for dinner, she notices the empty spot beside Daisy. You're gone, probably to your room.

Regret coils in her stomach. She didn’t mean for things to escalate like that, especially when all you were trying to do was help.

She hasn't felt this anxious in a long time.

It reminds her of the days after she lost everything that truly mattered.

Checking that everyone is probably asleep, Wanda takes a deep breath and heads towards your room. Her mind races, trying to figure out what to say, how to apologize.

She stops in front of your room and then gently raps on the door, listening intently for any sign of movement inside. “Y/N?” she calls out hesitantly. She doesn't expect the door to open immediately, and when it does, it's not you who answers.

Instead, Daisy stands there, looking a little startled too.

“You…” Wanda hisses slowly before she can catch herself.

Daisy quickly registers Wanda's reaction and raises her hands in a placating manner. “Oh, right. Sorry, this must be weird. My apartment had a plumbing issue, a flood actually. Since I'm joining the team permanently, I made a request for a new room. But until that's sorted, Y/N offered me theirs.”

Wanda's insides churn with a jealousy she can't quite place, but she masks it swiftly, painting on a polite smile. “And where's Y/N now?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.

Daisy bites her lip, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “They're asleep,” she admits. Stepping aside, she reveals you, nestled in a makeshift bed on the floor, blankets arranged around you for some semblance of comfort.

Wanda's eyes soften at the sight of you, but her heart also tightens in anger. You've given up your bed, your comfort, for Daisy. You’re doing for someone else what she’s done for you. It feels like an invasion of something she thought she exclusively shared with you.

Daisy shifts, catching Wanda's stare. “They wouldn’t listen to me,” she explains, a bit embarrassed. “Kept saying it's fine and that I should take the bed.”

Wanda just nods, a tightness in her voice. “Sounds like them, alright.”

Trying to ease the tension, Daisy adds, “Y/N always talks about you, you know. In a good way. Maybe you two should just... chat.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a little surprised. “They do?”

Daisy chuckles. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Night."

“Night,” Wanda murmurs, still looking at you.

Once Daisy’s gone, Wanda hesitates. Part of her wants to barge in, shake you awake, and have that long overdue talk. Instead, she absentmindedly touches the burn on her hand, its sting a reminder of how you tried to help her earlier. It's jarring to think that you, even after avoiding each other for days, were ready to heal her.

And damn, it hurts. Not the burn, but the realization of how much she misses you.

Wanda doesn’t get any chances to talk to you for the next several days because you–along with Natasha, Daisy and Vision are called away to a mission.

Each day you’re away, Wanda feels the weight of anxiety pressing down on her chest. She can’t help but worry, replaying every worst-case scenario in her mind. She catches herself multiple times pacing by the control room, asking for updates, or staring out at the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to return.

When word finally arrives that the quinjet is en route back to the compound, Wanda finds herself in the hangar before she’s even consciously made the decision to be there. Steve stands next to her, his face betraying his own relief. A few other team members have gathered too, all awaiting the return of their comrades.

The roar of the quinjet’s engines fills the air as it makes its descent. As the ramp lowers, Wanda's eyes scan the disembarking figures, and they lock onto yours. You look a little worn, a fresh bruise marring your cheek—oddly enough, one you've chosen not to heal. But beyond that, you seem okay.

Her heart swells with relief.

You seem to pause for a second, looking genuinely shocked to see Wanda amongst those waiting. For a moment, your eyes lock. She offers a tentative smile, full of hope, and it seems you're about to approach her. But then, as you step further out of the quinjet, Daisy appears at your side. The way she comfortably intertwines her fingers with yours sends a sharp pang through Wanda's heart and her smile falters.

Steve claps his hands together, attempting to reign in the team's focus. “Alright, debrief. How did it go?”

Natasha, with a deadpan expression, shoots back, “Could’ve gone smoother if you’d packed me a flask, Rogers.”

Steve smirks, shaking his head. “Alright, Romanoff. Just don’t make us wait too long.”

As you approach Wanda, your expression gives away nothing. “Hey,” you murmur, voice neutral. But Wanda’s eyes have darted down to where your hand is connected with Daisy's. Her eyes harden, and when she meets your gaze, they’ve become unreceptive.

Misreading the tightening of Wanda's features as coldness, your frown deepens. You'd thought some time apart might've helped ease the strain between you two, but guess not.

Just as you're about to say something to her–maybe an explanation as to why you’re holding Daisy’s hand–Daisy gives a playful tug on your hand, breaking the moment. “Come on,” she chirps. “Let's head in. I heard there's pizza, and I intend to eat more slices than you.”

You allow Daisy to pull you along, throwing one last glance at Wanda over your shoulder, wishing she'd say something–anything.

But Wanda's back is already turned to you. Her posture rigid, fists clenched at her sides, the knuckles going white. In that moment, Wanda is making a silent vow to herself, one of emotional self-preservation.

She walks away, her heels clicking against the ground with each firm and decisive step. Deep down, the walls she'd slowly been dismantling brick by brick in the face of a potential future with you were being hastily reconstructed.

She’s survived worse things.

Of course, she’ll survive you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #daisy johnson #vision #sam wilson

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sanjisluvbot · 2 years ago

Text

Isekai Yandere STRAWHATS X Reader PT 2

Masterlist

1 2 3 4

Hi, welcome to pt 2 🫶🏽 I hope you enjoy this series I’m doing. For this one specifically I think I’ll have around 7-10 parts. 18+ as well. enjoy !

“ Why are you here? How did you get here?” You frantically questioned.

“ I’ve come to save you y/n are you really trying to pretend right now”

You didn’t know how you were going to get out of this. Trying to run for it might be silly considering Luffy’s powers might work completely different. Before you can act on anything rubber arms stretched around your waist and connected you to Luffy in an instant.

“ Luffy let me go now or I’ll scream !” You growled as you struggle to get de tangled from his arms. As you were pushing for your freedom you knocked off his hat in the process of mushing his face.

“ Yanno y/n, I think your my most interesting crew mate. It’s never taken me this long to get someone on my ship ” he sneered

The pressure in the room felt like your body was being squished from the ceiling to the floor. this must be what Haki feels like in reality.

He picked up his hat and stomped his way to your room dragging you along right next to him. How long has luffy been in my home that he knows exactly where my room is at. After shutting the door you were sat on your bed and then blindfolded.

“ Luffy can we please just talk and come to an understanding please-”

“ Y/N I understand perfectly fine, your my newest crewmate and you have unresolved issues from your past. I have come to save you and take you home.” He spoke confidently

You didn’t know how to resolve this situation, literally how many people can say their favorite character from a Tv / animated show jumped off the screen to take you back into the show with them. As you rattled your brain for answers you could hear Luffy shuffling around your room doing god knows what.

If I can’t get out of this now I’ll be trapped in that world for good, with the way it’s looking these people completely convinced themselves I am a part of their crew and that they have an odd obsession with a woman they knew for two and a half weeks.

“ Hey Luff”

“ Hm”

“ If i go with you, am I ever going to see my family and friends from here again?”

He continued rummaging through your room without giving you any answer. That only solidified your fear, you need to move fast. Slowly lifting your hand to take the bandana off but your stopped by Luffy’s booming voice.

“ Don’t you dare, you can take it off once we’re on the Sunny”

Ignoring the warning you snatch the bandanna off , the door is open and luffy is going through all your drawers making a complete mess of everything you have. What is he looking for my room is a fucking mess.

“ You just never listen… come and pack your bag”

“ N-no”

As scary as Luffy can be an animated character isn’t going to bitch you no matter what world he’s from.

“ No, you’re gonna take your ass back home without ME I am not a strawhat nor am I from your world. Accept that”

He let out an exasperated sigh and dragged his hand over his face. He looked at you from the corner of his eye making your cheeks burn.

“ I just need you to do as I ask for right now and we can figure out the details later on okay?”

“ I don’t wanna go-”

“ Please”

Starring each other down for what felt like hours before you dashed through the door. Running down the hallway as fast as you could but it was no use. Luffy latched himself to your ankle and you hit the ground in an instant. With your head hitting first your vision was hazy but you were able to make out luffy and his words before falling unconscious.

“ Soon this life will just be a bad distant memory. Everyone missed you over the last two years, I know you feel the same.”

Proofread once goodbye 👋

#Yandere one piece #one piece #one piece x reader #yandere strawhats #straw hat luffy #mugiwara no ichimi #one piece x black!reader #x black fem reader #one piece imagine #zoro x black reader #luffy x black reader

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huntershowl-moving · 26 days ago

Note

Positivity hour! Tell us about your favourite RP partner and your favourite thread! <3

OOH! i love positivity hour! cut for length because WORDY BITCH DISEASE STRIKES AGAIN APPARENTLY!

i don't think i could pin down just one favorite because i'm so incredibly lucky to have so many amazing partners during this sephblog golden age. this is only a few of the ppl who have touched my presence here and live in my brain rent free rn, i wish i could remember all of them but a shortlist will have to do o7

i will shoutout @harerazor and @tewwor for being my OGs, my rp besties, the truest mfs who always stick around through my year-long (sometimes years-long) absences and whenever i come back to discord or the dash, it's like we never left <3 AND for following me into my hyperfixation zones omg. writing windbreaker and jjk muses would be so much more lonely without u two in my life. <3

on the topic of OGs, @spiritcrown, @never-surrender and @bcdomens are the CREW!!!!!!!! THE FIRST PPL I EVER WROTE WITH AND SOME OF MY FAV FOLKS ON THIS HELLSITE you guys are the best. ily. connecting with u guys again felt like coming home.

@favorskill has ascended past the title of rp partner and into the title of friend. rio is one of my favorite people ever, genuinely, he's so cool and so skilled with writing/worldbuilding/watching his DICE MAKING SKILLS GROW has been so amazing too??? i care u so much rio. biting u. even when my brain is hopelessly deep in the fixation hole i am thinking about u and ur muses always <3

also shoutout to my wife @vsagis / @theixth (bc ik uve been on this one today) for just being like??? overall such a lovely person and an amazing writer??? our main dynamic is so deep and expansive we're starting to develop an extended universe for them. i love them i LOVE THEM TO DEATH. alex u match my freak ily i hope i get this job so we can hang out irl <3

speaking of matching my freak, @koseigu and i get along like a house on fire, and i don't think the world is truly ready for us. the more dynamics we develop, the more dangerous we become. everything we do with geto & sephsho ROCKS and i am terrified (excited) to see where seph and sukuna lead us in our newest explorations. we get up to some absolutely nasty (hot) shit with our creatures and it's always an amazing time. hehe

@chaoslulled hol you are so so so special to me. i owe u so many things and im so sorry omg but i literally never stop thinking about our threads & dynamics they're soooo good. i think you're one of the only partners i've actually been able to maintain Main Threads with over a long period of time?? there's something about the way we write together that makes that actually work in my brain which is super unusual JSDKJDHJKD i'm not complaining though, i love it so much. also your ocs are spinning around in my head on a daily basis, especially char because seph, chiaki and geto all like her very much. <3 ALSO. U ARE THE REASON I WRITE GETO. I HATE IT HERE HE WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE HOW COULD U DO THIS TO ME (affectionate). ur satoru is always the one he and seph come back to first because he is the original.

@quillheel and i have been mutuals for a while but didn't start regularly chatting until recently, and geto has been keeping me hostage in our 1x1 server over the last week or so, it's a problem, please help me. please. my crops are dying. also ur my current record breaker on "most fucked up start to an rp dynamic" with sukuna and rusa and im gonna be real i think u might hold that title for a while KJSDHIUSDHSJDHSJKDHJSKDH

@hinodae gray i think i would follow u to the ends of the earth. our little accidental threads have been some of my favorites ever, and i love to PIECES every one of our ship dynamics so far. thank u for being just as much of a slut for ships as i am, i feel like we match each other's energy and vibe so well!! TUMBLR BETTER UN-SHADOWBAN U SOON OR IM GONNA THROW HANDS >:'O

@eraserisms and @rcguish u two are like a package deal in my brain. D.A., the fact that we exist on the same chef wavelength always makes me so happy. i love seph and shota so much, they make me Hurt in all the best ways and i'm lookin forward to getting more into todoroki's voice so we can keep building out shota becoming his dad i mean mentoring him! and rys!!! i know ur absolutely going thru it rn so we haven't been talking as much lately, but i'm still just as feral for our dynamics as ever. seph and shouta's broken friendship. shou and orion's blossoming romance. seph has so many feelings and thoughts about silver that i don't even know how to articulate but that might need its own separate post. blowing u kisses.

lastly but not leastly, @gomannakami we only connected recently but we've already got this absolutely TRAGIC AND BEAUTIFUL set of pairings going on. satoru and chiaki are so stupidly cute and so so sad. seph and suguru are still in the beginning stages but i LOVE writing them sort of dancing around each other, the mutual pining is so spicy and delicious.

AS FOR THREADS!!!!!

ooh. hm. fuck. i think my first thought is always gonna be my longer-running threads with @chaoslulled — the one that stands out the most in my mind rn is the thread where satoru found seph on the brink of collapse after a hellhound kill. it was only the second thread we ever wrote together, and i ACUTELY remember how nervous i was that it was too intense and i was gonna scare hol away with it because that's happened so many times before. SJDHKSJHD

another one that comes to mind is one of my first threads with @tewwor's litho, which started with the simple inbox prompt "can't sleep?" and ended up turning into one of our longest threads to date and spiraling out into the longest fucking slowburn of this blog's career. i loved it. i'll never stop thinking about that apple.

#>> OUT.#{ MWAH }

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gribok-art · 3 months ago

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🌿 Welcome

A pinned post that I'll try to edit with time to keep track of ongoing projects/drawings, fandoms, as well comic parts (and if they're on hiatus etc.)

So, welcome. I draw mostly fanarts, comics, mostly focused on ships or on a story with sprinkles of a ship here and there. Can be wholesome or angst so be ready. Sometimes I post WIPs. I really want in the future to do original stuff too.

I also want to learn to make a video game, so I'm practicing on a short story I wrote and you could see sometimes here and there progress on that.

▸ My Portfolio ▸ My Etsy ▸ My Linktree

▸ Commissions open

Comics

Newest to oldest. Ship included, otherwise it's not ship focused/no ship involved

[ Moomin ] - The Blue Wagon ▸ All main characters ▸ WIP

[ Danganronpa ] - Togafuka week 2024 ▸ Toko and Byakuya focused. Other characters present. Other ships present. ▸ WIP, can be found under the #togafukaweek tag ▸ Progress : ▸ all promps planned except AU ▸ rough dialogues + sketching all done ▸ ...

[ Moomin ] - The gramophone ▸ Moomin's parents, then Snufmin ▸ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ▸ 21 pages ▸ Completed

[ Danganronpa ] - School trip ▸Togafuka as kids ▸Part 1 | Part 2 | ▸6 pages ▸Paused

[ Danganronpa ] - Reverse AU ▸Togafuka but no "ship" moments. A reverse AU where Byakuya is obsessed with Toko. It's represented like in the game. ▸Initial idea | Free time events | A peculiar thing | Genocide Jack | First touch | Attention : Byakuya’s Fantasy ▸19 pages

[ Danganronpa ] - Last moments ▸Togafuka ▸7 pages ▸Completed

[ Danganronpa ] - Room makeover ▸Togafuka ▸4 pages ▸Completed

[ Danganronpa ] - A hands-on bet ▸Togafuka ▸Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ▸18 pages ▸Completed

[ Danganronpa ] - My adorable bully ▸Not a ship, Toko's childhood ▸Part 1 ▸5 pages ▸Don't know if will continue

[ Danganronpa ] - The reunion ▸Not a ship, Byakuya and Aloysius ▸3 pages ▸Completed

[ Danganronpa ] - Holding hands ▸Togafuka ▸1 page ▸Completed

[ Danganronpa ] - His first kiss ▸Togafuka ▸1 page ▸Completed

[ Danganronpa ] - A cup of tea ▸Togafuka ▸3 pages ▸Completed

[ Danganronpa ] - Good night ▸Komahina ▸1 page ▸Completed

[ Danganronpa ] - Orange Juice ▸Komahina ▸1 page ▸Completed

[ Dreamtalia × Coraline ] - I only want what’s best for you ▸Not ship focused ▸1 page ▸Completed

[ Hetalia ] - Italy's confession ▸Gerita ▸1 page ▸Completed

Again, newest first, oldest last.

Fandoms

Currently :

Moomin

Danganronpa

Not obsessions / Not as involved at the moment / Past :

Avatar the last Airbender

AI : The somnium Files

Loki

Good Omens

Pikmin

13 Sentinels : Aegis Rim

BOTW

Undertale, Deltarune

Steven Universe

Hetalia

(I cited relevant ones you can still find drawings of)

#intro #danganronpa #togafuka #moomin #snufmin #hetalia #gerita #komahina

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kuzann · 11 months ago

Text

Escape from the Holidays

My Holiday Truce present for @deuynndoodles! Sam and Tucker get Danny away from the Santa argument for some much-needed relaxation. 💜 Also on Ao3!

Danny trudged his way through the fall season, doing his best to ignore the Christmas merch that was already showing up in stores by Halloween. Holiday creep was annoying in general, but for Danny it acted as an omen of things to come once December rolled around. As the weeks ticked by the knot of stress and anxiety grew in the pit of his stomach; the worst month of the year was approaching and there was nothing he could do about it. He would simply have to endure whatever misery the yearly argument brought just as he did every year.

December 1st arrived. The more restrained organizations of Amity Park at last began to put up their Christmas decorations. FentonWorks lit up in red, white, and green just like the rest of the neighborhood and, like clockwork, the Santa argument began. Danny was long past caring whether Santa Claus was real or not; the only thing that mattered was the fact that the argument made every single December a writhing mass of stress and mess cleanup.

Five days after the start of December he and Jazz sat in the living room after being summoned for a family board game, only for the Santa argument to overshadow everything before the game could even make it out of the box. Jazz hid her face in her newest psychology book while Danny glowered at his parents and wished he’d thought to grab his phone before his dad pestered him into coming downstairs for ‘family time’.

He was just checking his watch for the dozenth time when the front door slammed open. Sam and Tucker hurried into the living room, still breathless from running over. The sudden intrusion put a temporary pause on the argument as the Fentons turned to their new guests.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, there’s a ghost attacking the docks!” Tucker said, still a little breathless from the run as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“You gotta hurry before he gets away!” Sam added. “He’s trying to steal a bunch of shipping boxes!”

“No ghost is making off with holiday gifts while the Fentons are on the job!” Jack declared as he and Maddie drew their concealed weapons. They barged out the door past Sam and Tucker and out into the snowy night.

“Nothing stops the holiday argument like their mutual hatred of ghosts,” Tucker said with a knowing smile.

“Well, we better get going,” Danny grumbled as he stood. “So who is it this time? It’s the Box Ghost, isn’t it?”

“It is, but he’s not our problem tonight,” Sam said with a proud smile of her own. “Come on, you really think your parents can’t handle the Box Ghost?”

“Well since my mom’s out there I guess I shouldn’t worry...” Danny admitted with a small smile. He was already starting to feel a little better now that he didn’t have to witness the Santa argument. “We do need to figure out something for dinner now, though,” he added as he shared a glance with Jazz.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re coming over to my house and we’re ordering takeout,” Sam said.

“We call it Operation: Get Danny Away from the Stupid Santa Argument,” Tucker added with a grin. “And Jazz too, if she wants to hang out with us.”

“Well given that I’ll be all alone here after you guys leave...” Jazz began. “You’re sure you’re okay with me joining in? I’m not gonna cramp your style or anything?”

“Any Fenton who isn’t part of the Santa argument is welcome in my book,” Danny replied.

~~~

Sam’s parents were surprisingly pleasant when the four of them arrived; Danny was under the impression that they didn’t care for him or his family, and tonight he had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Manson was going to rub being a superior parent in his parents’ faces at some point in the near future because of all this. Jazz lingered to give them a full rundown of her college plans when they asked what she was up to as a matter of courtesy, which gave Sam ample opportunity to get her other guests upstairs and into her room without any further delay.

Her room was dimly-lit by warm red string lights she’d added recently. The effect was almost cozy, despite Sam’s likely intent of using them to boost the goth look to her room. It was certainly more calming than the sea of Christmas lights that decorated most of the city. The curtains were already drawn when they arrived, blocking off any view of the city beyond. Closed, comfortable, and warm.

“So what kind of food are we feeling like tonight?” Sam asked once they were safely in her room.

“Something other than pizza,” Danny replied as he flopped down on a massive black bean bag chair. “I think I’ve finally had enough pizza for a little while.”

“I could go for some Thai food,” Tucker added as he dropped onto the oversized bean bag next to Danny.

“I know a great Thai place.” Sam turned to a nearby bookshelf and took a binder labeled ‘Restaurants’ from it, then leafed through until she found the page she wanted. “Here we go,” she said as she took the menu from a sheet protector within.

“So organized,” Tucker said with a chuckle as Sam passed the menu to them.

“Well when you have dietary restrictions it helps to remember the places that can accommodate,” Sam said.

“Smart,” Danny said. He leaned in, bumping shoulders with Tucker as he read the menu as well. “Think I’ll pick the pad thai with chicken.”

“Red curry with beef for me,” Tucker said.

Danny leaned back against the bean bag and closed his eyes as Sam left to ask Jazz what she wanted. It was quiet in Sam’s room—soundproofed to keep her and her parents’ music tastes completely separate, for everyone’s sake—and no holiday music reached them here. He could almost pretend that this was just any other month and that he didn’t have another miserable holiday season to look forward to once he left. The ball of stress that sat sharp and heavy in his chest slowly began to unwind.

His phone buzzed with a received text. Danny opened his eyes and checked it: Valerie had made it to her grandparents’ house and was asking how he was doing. He smiled and texted back: [Glad ur safe. Sam & Tucker rescued me from Santa argument so doing good]

“Val checking in?” Tucker asked.

“Yep, she’s safe at her grandparents’ house,” Danny replied. Worry over Valerie staying safe on the slippery roads had been sitting at the back of his mind ever since she left the previous day, and it was good to have it resolved for now.

Sam returned with Jazz in tow. “Food’s ordered, now we just have to wait.” She strolled over and dropped down onto the unoccupied side of the bean bag. “Did I miss anything?”

“Valerie made it to her grandparents’ house,” Danny replied.

“That’s good. The roads are pretty treacherous this time of year,” Sam said. She stretched, then fell back against the bean bag, bumping shoulders with Danny. “She’ll be here next time we do this.”

“Next time?” Danny raised his eyebrows with the question as he looked at her.

“Yeah we were thinking once a week,” Tucker added. “Maybe more often. Depends on how stressed out you get.” He gave Danny a playful poke on the forehead.

“We couldn’t just sit back and let you be miserable for the whole season,” Sam said. “Besides, it’s nice to get a break from the holiday rush.”

Danny smiled, and he let out a long slow sigh as he sank into the bean bag a little further. “Thanks, guys.” He pulled the two into a hug. “This really means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it, dude,” Tucker said as he and Sam returned the hug. “So what should we do while we wait for the food to get here?”

“I found this card game called Five Crowns recently,” Sam said. “Let’s try it out.”

~~~

The Jacks were wild by the time the food arrived at the front door. Danny and Tucker were almost tied for last place with scores exceeding one hundred points while Jazz sat squarely in the lead with only thirty-five. With two hands to go there was still a chance that Sam could unseat her as the to-be winner, but only time would tell.

Sam brought the food up and the four of them sorted out their meals from the bag. They dug in, chattering all the while about school, video games, movies, future plans. The cards had been laid aside for the moment, to spare them the possibility of getting messy from the food.

Danny forgot the date after a while. It felt like any other night of the year, which was exactly what he needed. He was finally at ease as they set the remnants of dinner aside and picked up their game again.

~~~

Jazz won the game in the end, despite a valiant effort to defeat her on Sam’s part. Danny ended with a ridiculous sum of four hundred and twenty-six points. He didn’t mind. It was the simple act of playing the game that he’d enjoyed, win or lose.

With the game over they set about finding other ways to occupy the time. Sam brought up a new fantasy RPG she’d bought recently and asked if they wanted to do a joint save so they could enjoy the story together.

The three plopped down on the big bean bag chair again with Danny in the middle and took turns on the controller, laughing and riffing on the game’s sillier story beats and praising it for the things it did well. Meanwhile Jazz sat at Sam’s desk with a book open before her, a small smile on her face as she kept half an ear on their fun, chuckling every so often at one of their jokes.

Hours drifted past, carrying them late into the evening, and at last the three began to nod off. Sam and Tucker each rested on one of Danny’s shoulders, the book Sam had been perusing laying open across her lap while Tucker’s PDA had almost slipped out of his hand as he slept.

Once she was sure they were soundly asleep Jazz took a nearby blanket and draped it over the three, gently tucking the edges around them to trap in the warmth. Danny was truly fortunate to have such good friends. Getting him away from holiday stress was exactly what he needed, and with them whisking him away like this every few days he would be able to weather the season much better than he had in previous years.

Jazz tiptoed back to the desk and sat down again. She would wake them in a little while to take Danny home, but for now all she wanted was to let him sleep peacefully for as long as he could.

#Danny Phantom #phandom truce 2023 #DP Events #Phanfic #Danny Fenton #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #Jazz Fenton #Fluff

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captain-mj · 1 year ago

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Loved Graves locker room pep-talk to the shadows in the mw3 trailer, I feel like the 141 would witness one of these and tease the shadows and Graves😂

Yes. Very much so

Graves offered the 141 use of one of their bases to use as an apology for what happened in the past. Secretly, Phillip was trying to get a certain Captain John Price to pay attention to him. No luck yet, but he could hope.

That morning before a mission, he was giving his Shadows a normal pep-talk. They all seemed to like it, complaining the one time he didn't do one. He gave them all a smile. It was lopsided thanks to the scar on his cheek and then they immediately said "Yup, yup!"

Gaz was staring at them, wide eyed. "Do you guys... do that often?"

Alpha 2-4 Edward, one of the newest members of his team, frowned. "Does Price not do that for you?"

"No?? Is this an American thing?"

Graves glared at him. "As their commander, I do what I can to prepare them for upcoming in missions."

Gaz nodded and slowly backed away, commenting about cult like behavior.

Graves set his jaw and sent his men out. He was now substantially more irritated than before but he wanted his Shadows mission ready. So many Shadows had died thanks to those goddamn Russians recently and even though he had made amends with the Vaqueros, that didn't undo the deaths on both sides. His numbers were low and... well...

He didn't think his heart could handle it well. He had started to refer to them by their number, as awful as it was, in some way to keep himself from getting too attached. At least until everyone was well trained and not at risk of dying.

Alpha 1-3 Charlie came back with a broken ankle, somehow, but luckily no other injuries. Graves had her arm slung over his shoulder, helping her walk. He put her into one of the med bay beds and smiled at her.

"Hey, chin up, kiddo. You did great out there."

"I broke my ankle."

"Yeah, but you did jumping on a moving helicopter! I thought we might have to circle around or have you rendezvous elsewhere!"

Charlie paused. "You wouldn't have left me behind?"

"Absolutely not." Graves smiled. "Not leaving anyone behind, yeah?"

"Yup-yup!" Charlie smiled at him.

"Exactly! We're soldiers. We get up, get shit done and then ship out again, right?"

"Right!" She smiled brightly.

Soap frowned at them. He stayed silent until Graves stepped out in the hallway. "What's with the yup-yup thing?"

"It's common in the military here in the states." Graves glared already. "She's also hurt and I was trying to comfort her."

"Yeah, yeah." Soap looked at him strangely.

"Out with it."

"You just... seem to care an awful lot about them."

"Price jokingly calls you guys his kids."

"Yeah, I know. Just... you guys are all so close. There's a ton of you. Like twelve."

Graves shook his head. "I just... Want what's best for my soldiers."

"Right. Of course. You're a good commander."

Soap still teased him about the yup-yup thing for weeks.

Ghost never said anything, but anytime he happened to be nearby when Graves started his little speeches, he'd stick around and stare. Graves was used to staying on task, but it did get a little unnerving.

Just a little.

Right as he was finishing a thing about loyalty and how they'd all pull through, Price came in. He was drinking the tea they had started keeping on hand. His deep blue eyes stared into Graves with the exact same intensity as Ghost's and he was starting to wonder if it was a British trait.

"They... enjoy your speeches?" He asked when they wrapped up.

Graves shrugged. "Seemed to, yeah. Why?"

"Tried doing that to the 141 once and failed miserably. Pep talks and all that. Don't think they're the type that benefits from them."

"Doesn't seem like it, but you have good control on them without it."

Price smiled and sipped his tea. "Thanks. Mostly had to beat it into them."

Graves chuckled. "Had a few soldiers like that. Sometimes, beating is necessary."

"You seem pretty talented with just your words. I can see how you founded your company. Very charming."

Graves blushed. "Thank you, sir. I can see how you became a Captain."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #cod #captain john price #phillip graves #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #simon “ghost” riley

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xtrafluffyteddy · 10 months ago

Text

Everdoor

spiritfarer!Johnny mactavish x spirit!Reader x spirit!Simon Riley

I’ve been playing spiritfarer and I got inspired, this is mostly from Johnnys pov, kinda bittersweet ending?

Being the new spiritfarer wasn’t an easy task but when Johnny was choosen for it he knew he could handle the weight and burden of having to cross over the many spirits still stuck in the ethereal plane “Johnny” the previous spiritfarer Price grumbles lowly, Soap was quick to look up at the large creature like man “yes sir?” He replied, “make me proud” was all Price said as he crossed over into the Everdoor.

“Okay Riley” johnny huffed as he looked down at the German Shepard by his side wagging its tail in happiness “let’s go help some spirits hm?” He smiled as Riley barked in reply reaching his large hand down to scratch behind the dogs ears before turning to his controls setting his navigation to some random island on the map.

That’s where he met the first spirit who would board his ship, standing before him was a very large cloaked figure at the end of the pier staring out into the vast nothingness “hello?” He called out causing the spirit to quickly snap towards him “who are you, how’d you get here, how’d you find me” the spirit shot off rapid questions already on guard “I’m Johnny but you can call me Soap I’m the newest spiritfarer” he reassured putting his hands up to show he’s harmless “my boat took me here I’m guessing to bring you aboard” the cloaked figure held an aura of distrust as it reluctantly followed Johnny to his ship.

Once the cloaked figure set foot on his ship it’s cloak immediately vanished leaving a very broad and tall man with a skull mask staring back at him “I’m Ghost” the spirit grunted as he looked at his new surroundings before digging around his pocket to give Johnny his obal

Days and weeks passed as Johnny upgraded his ship, helped other spirits cross over while Ghost remained never growing close to any of the other spirits, always sticking to himself only really talking to Johnny or playing with Riley. “Phew another spirit in the Everdoor I’m on a roll aren’t I” he grinned at Ghost who was sat in his own house that Johnny had built for him “you remind me of my old team” Ghost mumbles as he looks lost in thought “always ontop of things, always together” that’s all Ghost said for the rest of the day deciding that he just wanted to be alone worrying Johnny just a bit.

He couldn’t stay worried for long as he docked at a new island filled with cherry blossom trees and strawberry bushes which he quickly harvested as he made his way up towards the lone cabin at the very top of the hill. “Hello?” He called out to the cloaked figure sitting at the lone bench over looking the sea “hello?” He called out again as he made his way towards them “hello Spiritfarer” you say still not turning towards him “I’m guessing you’ve come to take me away from my home” you inquire turning slightly to look at the large man “only if your comfortable with that” he reassures “well I mean it’s time isn’t it I can’t cling to the past forever” with that he watches as you rise up take one last look at your home and follow him to the ship once onboard your cloak melts away revealing your form standing before the only other spirit on the ship and Johnny “it’s been so long since I’ve been around others” you snicker

The three of you were thick as thieves growing closer and closer as the days turned to weeks then months everything was well sure you’d had a few times where Johnny was worried because you were struggling against an unseen foe, or when ghost would have what he could only guess were ptsd flashbacks that caused him to be catatonic for days, the good times outweighed the bad in his eyes as long as you both remained happy then he would keep trying to make you both better.

“Johnny” Ghost said one day after Johnny had fed him his favorite food of beans and toast “I think it’s time Johnny” Soap felt his heart drop into his stomach he knew this day was coming but he would never be ready for it “I’m ready to go Johnny” ghost said as he placed a calloused hand on Johnnys warm cheek “you know what to do” Johnny nodded a sadness burying itself in his heart as he set his navigation to take him to the Everdoor

“I’m gonna miss you Simon” Johnny watched as you said your goodbyes to your beloved Ghost hugging him tightly and pressing a soft kiss to his cheeks then his lips only letting go of his hands as Ghost boarded the small boat that would take him to his final resting place “ready” Johnny questioned his voice thick with emotion “ready” Ghost reassured as he gently placed a hand on Johnnys knee giving him a smile behind his skull mask.

“I’m grateful for everything in my life” Ghostst began as Johnny continued to row “grateful for my team, for the tragedies, for meeting you and them” Ghost smiled as he took off his mask wanted to feel the breeze on his face one last time “I’ve done bad things, and at one point I was sure I was a villain but when you look at me it makes me want to be a better person” Johnny sniffs but keeps a strong composure “I've never deserved you anyway... But I've loved you, and that won't stop even if I'm not around anymore. The ones who really love you never really leave you, you know” Ghost reassured as they stop in front of the large door Johnny quickly rushing to pull ghost into a tight hug inhaling his strong scent “I love you Simon” Johnny murmured as Ghost rose above him disappearing in a burst of light

It was lonely without Ghost on the ship but things had to keep moving, Johnny continued helping spirits cross over while you remained unmoving wanting to stay by Johnnys side for as long as you can teaching him lessons on how to open up to people, to love, to grieve properly. “Even when I leave you Johnny I’ll wait for you on the other side so you don’t have to cross alone” you smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to his lips before disappearing into your house.

The day johnny had been dreading had come you were ready to leave you had told him so as you were helping him into his orchards “I think I’m ready Johnny” you say as you put the fallen apples into a basket “I’m done fighting the inevitable I’ve had a wonderful experience seeing the world with you but it’s time for me to go” you gently cup Johnnys cheek and all he can do is focus on remembering your touch “you know what to do”.

Johnny couldn’t fight the few tears rolling down his cheeks as he helped you into the small boat watching as you sat across from him brilliant smile never leaving your face “you know I used it be such a logical thinker, everything had its place, everything was black and white, then when I got sick I started changing started learning a new way of living and I always wanted to pass that down to someone and I’m grateful it was you” you coo as you reach out to caress Johnnys cheek “The only lesson I have left is to show you what we're made of. Of ephemeral starlight. We're but a few particles of thought on the vast stream of consciousness” you sigh happily as you lean forward pulling Johnny into a soft kiss wrapping him up in your arms “I love you Johnny and I’ll be waiting” with that he watched as you burst into a ball of light taking your place amongst the stars next to his beloved Ghost.

Years passed Johnny lost track of how many souls he’d helped pass on but now his time was up it was his turn to crossover and he knew that you and Ghost would be waiting for him with open arms and happy smiles.

#ghost #cod mwii #ghost x reader #cod modern warfare #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john mactavish

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laylawatermelon · 7 months ago

Text

Side Eyes or Raised Eyebrows

Buddie: Marketing Tatic or Something Else?

Hello! Back on my big brain I cant sleep stuff.

I've been a Buddie fan for over a few months now (idk how time works) and have lived through the beautiful bi buck confirmation.

Now I do have some think pieces about queer representation in American media and in different countries (i literally spend all my time watching tv I'm a conessiur or sorts) and how they differ on impact/deal with issues etc.

What I woke up thinking about is something that's bugging me a bit about Oliver and his interviews.

If we're (both the ga and buddie fans) supposed to be convinced about this new relationship the writing and promotion MUST be changed.

Let me explain.

Tommy, Tevan whatever you want to call it is Buck's newest relationship.

It's a new relationship with a similar set up/feeling around it.

The only way I think Buddie can be override/mitigated is if they have a doctor love interest who consistently stays over the course of seasons who has their own backstory and storyline.

I'm starting to swing my eyes at ABC and their marketing team now.

Madney's wedding coming up and we barely saw either of them ( granted kudos on keeping this all under wraps y'all) and they've been hanging a shiny bell in front of us as distraction like a baby.

Look at the shiny buddie then BAM character death!

Please don't take this serious, please don't take this serious, Tim! PLEASE don't take this serious.

But anyways, I have been thinking about Oliver and all of his recent press and just the way Busdie has been uttered and whipped around like a tennis ball.

He currently has a boyfriend but the way it's been discussed and portrayed has me a bit dazed.

I wanna be a bit objective (I'm asking the big questions here)

The main problem is the Buddie relationship and how it's portrayed/written and had continued to be this season.

If you compare the past seasons and how they've developed as let's face it a couple, because there's no way to deny it as they've been written to parallel in unverse and other show romantic heterosexual relationships.

They quite literally qualified for a queer platonic relationship (if you wanted to view it that way. I however have not. I say let the gays free!/j)

If they intended for it to be platonic let it BE platonic.

They shouldn't be doing an if, of the gender was swapped would it be romantic/ship coded?

They literally have that in the show already. Bobby and Chim, Bobby and Eddie, hell Chim and Eddie (do they even have solo scenes together???).

Bathena is a blatant parallel. The main one almost beat for beat is the orchard shooting and the hostage situation. (Pretty sure it's the same season I believe)

But those are just some examples of the show.

My main gripe is if it's not about buddie don't make it/lean to heavily into it as it can backfire.

I'm not gonna lie, bi buck episode was a bait and switch (beautifully done and still very infuriating all the same).

Oliver I gotta bone to pick with you (I really don't I'm side eyeing the network i know they approve questions).

He's also a Buddie warrior so I can't really fault him on how he talks about it it's been like 6 years he's had the same partner with the domestic (cough sexual tension cough) with.

So I don't really blame him tbh.

*Swings around and points fonger at marketing team*

It's all your fault.

I know the episode will feature Madney (duh it's their wedding episode and I'm ready to cry) but I'm pretty sure there could've been another way to advertise this occasion.

Use flyers (similar to the ones used to say that one of the dispatch crew was attending) to get fans buzzed about watching the show in a few weeks as though they're rsvp'ing, talk about past scenes, more interviews centering the couple and what they thought about the episode, a promotional photoshoot?

Photoshoot in a magazine with jlh and Ken would've been really cute. Madney fans would then be happy. (I'm included🙋🏾‍♀️ give the beautiful couple their photos i wanna see it😤 my little queer heart and eyes demands it)

Literally would've been the perfect time to pair up with some wedding magazine or something. Literally a million ways to go about it.

Madney in formal wedding clothes, then a dystopian kind of dress clothes to reflect the chaotic wedding ending.

Use a highlight reel.

Similar you are cordially invited to a 911 wedding -

Show madney karaoke, engagement ring being missing, proposal, hugs after hostage, this season cute date idea and excitement for the wedding then a simple where's chimney.

Then put the bachelor stuff then have him crawling.

Something as simple as that puts more of the focus on madney visually and marketing wise.

For the interviews they could've split it between Oliver talking about bisexuality and the other two talking about relationship and the high beats and low beats and how it felt to play.

How their relationship developed as costars and what the characters mean to them.

Split it down the middle so both fans are appeased.

I am a fan of all characters and this is really funny because I the first half of this one morning I woke up before the scene was even mentioned being cut but i was like there's a shift in something and it's not good🤣 as expected something went wrong)

Though I'm pretty sure the fans of both will be happy because Buddie are going to be the comic relief so they'll have a decent amount of time as the blockers so to say because we will know who's gonna kidnap Chimney. He only had one enemy??

But yeah this was a Tuesday thing I wrote and it's now very hilarious in hindsight and in the future.

Happy Madney day i guess!

This will be linked to Twitter cause whew...

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loganwritesprobably · 2 months ago

Text

Day 3 - Abandoned

A fluff piece featuring @undeadeurydice's OC Oak

Tags/Warnings: Gwen/Oak, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, meet cute, first kiss, Shanks as a paternal figure, getting together Word Count: 1557

Gwen’s life had not been easy, for someone so young. At just nineteen years old she was alone in the world, with nobody she could rely on, no friends or family to call her own. It was difficult, but it was the life she was resigned to leading. She’d told herself that she would keep living, no matter what happened, because inside her she held the dreams of her brother, his desire for her to be happy one day, and she couldn’t let him down. She had survived.

Oak was a victim, a man who’d suffered. He had experienced hardship at the hands of the government, seen their darkest soldiers willing to do the most heinous of things. Imprisoned, starved and beaten, Oak spent years stuck as a beast, forgetting who he used to be. He had survived.

They met entirely by chance, on a random day, on a random island. An otherwise entirely unassuming day, that shouldn’t have meant anything. It came to mean something quite important to them both, very quickly.

The weather was mild, the town was quiet, and Gwen had been on her way to pick up some food. This island was the newest of many, and finally she’d started working as a doctor. She had enough control of what she was able to do that now she could charge for her services, and make a profit. Enough to eat every week, and that was new for her. People didn’t look at her in fear, they saw past her reputation and her bounty set by the marines, they saw the good she was able to do for them and the person she was outside of what the government called her.

It’d been a few weeks since she’d landed on the island, and so by now she’d come to know most of the residents. So, when a tall man stood in the grocery store, staring at the options as if he wasn’t entirely sure what an apple was, she knew he was new here. “I’ve found that strawberries are better at this time of year.” Gwen said in lieu of greeting, offering a tub of them to the man, who tore his gaze from the apples to the strawberries in her hand, then up at Gwen with a small head tilt, as if he were a puppy. “Strawberries.” He mumbled, blinking owlishly, before he nodded mostly to himself. “They’re sweet.” Gwen told him, without judgement for his apparent confusion at everything around him. The man nodded again, more sure of himself, and took the container from Gwen with a shaky smile. “Sweet.” He mumbled to himself, looking down at the red berries. “My name is Gwen. I can help you, if you’d like? With your food, that is.” She offered, holding her hand out for him to shake with a warm smile and a soft giggle. “Gwen. Pretty.” He observed, ignoring her hand entirely, staring intensely into Gwen’s eyes instead. “Oh! Thank you. What’s your name, sir?” Gwen quickly asked, surprised by his compliment and flushing a light pink. “Oak.” He said simply, and she nodded. He didn’t need to say more than that. “A handsome name, for a handsome man.” She grabbed a few fruits that she needed herself, putting them in the basket she’d grabbed from by the door. Oak was stunned for a moment, then grabbed a basket as well, following her example.

“So, tell me what you think you need, and I’ll help.”

It turned out Oak had been sent to get a few things by the pirate crew he was living with, with them attempting to help him with learning as he struggled quite a lot. Gwen allowed him to try to find each item, directing him to the general section if he needed, then the right shelf, and then would identify the item if he truly couldn’t work it out. She told him about the items as they grabbed them, explaining the things that she needed for herself as well, a little extra lesson for free.

Once they were both done, and had paid, she allowed Oak to lead her to the ship he hailed from to meet the crew he regarded as his family. His paternal figure? None other than Red Haired Shanks. What the fuck.

Surprisingly, he was lovely. He and the rest of the crew welcomed in Gwen with open arms, glad their newest member had made a friend. They were excited to the point of throwing a small party, and Gwen spent the evening drinking with them. A bonus of her enhanced healing was that she physically couldn’t become drunk, unless wearing seastone, so she could drink the night away without any concerns over her behaviour, blacking out or forgetting anything.

In fact, Gwen was sure she’d never forget that night, since it was the night she was welcomed into her life partner’s family, long before she knew that was what they’d be.

The Red Hair Pirates remained docked on that island for a week or so after that initial meeting, Gwen was sure it was because of her budding relationship with Oak. That was exactly what it was really. She’d started talking to him out of her desire to help people, to guide those who need a gentle hand, but he was so affectionate, and kind to her. She wasn’t used to it, and frankly it left her with deep seated feelings for him that she hadn’t expected.

Shanks, apparently, had expected.

On the final day the pirates were due to be docked, Gwen had once again found herself in Oak’s company. She was drawn to him, he made her feel safe like she never had before. They wandered down the main street, shoulder to shoulder, talking about anything we could think of, and everything that crossed their minds. Shanks had told them the crew was going to the only restaurant in town for their final night there, and so the two were just wasting time until then.

When they arrived and the crew was nowhere to be found, Gwen had some suspicions, and then the hostess confirmed them by revealing that the reservation was for just two people. That man. He was a pest, but Gwen wasn’t opposed to his meddling, in fact she quite appreciated. She was hesitant to engage in a relationship with Oak, after all he was still adjusting to being a person again, but if Shanks thought he was ready, she felt significantly less guilty.

Oak didn’t seem to understand what was happening, but enjoyed the night all the same. They ate and talked about small and big things - they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. They got dessert too, all on Shanks’ dime, and then decided to go for a sunset walk together along the beach, basking in their final evening together.

“You know, I’ve always felt like I’d be alone. That I’d never make any.. Meaningful connections in my life.” Gwen confessed softly, toes digging into the still warm sand as they walked side by side, the waves lapping against the grains, an added atmosphere to their time. “You have me.” Oak replied, and Gwen knew what he meant. She definitely had a meaningful connection with him. “I do. Until tomorrow, when you leave.” “No. You always have me.” Oak retorted, stopping suddenly, which Gwen only processed once she was a few paces away from him. “Oak, you’re leaving tomorrow morning. I live here. I have a home, and patients.” “Then let me stay.” “What?”

“I.. I was lost for so long. So confused. I don’t feel like that with you. I love Shanks, he gave me my life back, but.. The wolf likes you. The wolf.. Wants you, wants to keep you, have you close so we can keep you safe.” As much as being a zoan affected Gwen and Oak so differently, she understood what he meant in his bones - to find someone that both you and your inner animal approved of, well it was tricky. She also imagined that his instincts were far closer to the surface given all that he’d been through. “I understand. But you love Shanks, he’s practically your dad. You’ve only known me for a week.” There was no world in which someone could want Gwen so badly, and she couldn’t bare the thought of believing that he could want her, only for him to change his mind and be stuck here because of her. “Everyone else abandoned us. I don’t want to abandon you.”

There was a beat of silence in which Gwen’s heart shattered and then rebuilt itself instantaneously. He saw her, saw what she’d been through, and he didn’t want to do that to her again. She didn’t want to do it to Oak either.

“Okay.” She agreed softly. “Okay?” He asked, surprised she’d agreed when it seemed like she’d been against it just moments before. “Yeah. Stay.” It was only natural that a moment later his lips were on hers, his arms around her lifting her up into the air to keep her close. Gwen yelped against his lips, wrapping her arms and legs around him to keep herself stable, then lost herself in his warmth, in their feelings for each other.

She could be happy here, like this, with him.

Tag List: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

If you'd like to tip me, Kofi

#one piece #fanfic #writing #loganwritesfanfics #one piece oc #gwen powell #oc x oc #op oc #fluff #romance #loganwrites promptober #oc / oc

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historicrad39a · 1 year ago

Text

3. Frontier Rescue Rangers

Unnamed system - 135ly from Earth

Frontier Rescue Rangers Carrier Zuikaku after action report: July 13th 2538

It had been a month since the Human-Tathrax alliance had been attacked by an unknown alien civilization (henceforth known as the “Theta Aliens”). Whilst there was an initial panic about possible follow up attacks, it wasn’t until yesterday that we had any further contact. A small exploration vessel surveying systems just outside of Alliance space had been ambushed and captured by the Theta Aliens. Due to the proximity to frontier space, and the fact that this was a rescue mission, the Frontier Rescue Rangers were dispatched.

Two months ago, had you told me I would make history by being the first half-human half-Tathrax to command of one of the admiralty’s newest and largest carriers, with two brand new Kongō-class Fast Battleships (specifically modified for Frontier Defense fleet use) in tow as the head of a squadron with more firepower than the entire Frontier Defense Fleet up until that point - especially for a rescue mission of all things - I would have called you crazy. In fact, once the FDS Frontier’s captain, Zack, told me he was planning to request the admiralty’s newest toys, I called him an idiot. He had asked me if, assuming he succeeded, I would want to command one of the new ships - and if so, which type. I told him, somewhat jokingly, that I wanted to be in command of a massive voidcraft carrier. Come two weeks later and the Shōkaku-class carrier Zuikaku has been delivered to us direct from Akatsuki Shipyards, with myself named as her captain.

Unlike most people in the Frontier Defense fleet, I was here willingly. My parents were explorers, and when I was a young girl I frequently accompanied them on their journeys. On one such journey, we were in the AR Scorpii system preparing to return home when one of the relativistic beams from the system’s White Dwarf just barely skimmed by our ship. The hyperdrive went haywire and within a matter of seconds we ended up at the outer edge of the MilkyWay - having just travelled some 26,300ly in under 20 seconds. Hyperspace has a maximum speed limit of ~1 light year per second, most ships can only manage a light year per ten seconds at most. Yet somehow we managed to move at some 1,000 light years per second.

We were stranded for around a week in a near functionless ship slowly starving to death before we heard the distinct roar of a large vessel approaching in hyperspace. The Rescue Rangers had successfully requisitioned the Casablanca-class carrier ship Gambier Bay and made the week-long trip out here non-stop. Needless to say I was greatly inspired by their bravery and decided I would become a Rescue Ranger when I grew up.

By the time I was of eligible age to join the Rescue Rangers, things had rapidly deteriorated. When I was a child, the hyperdrive was just barely 50 years old. But by the time I had joined it was nearing 70 years old. Consequently, random failures, mis-jumps, and fuel exhaustion due to unpredictable fuel usage were all but things of the past. The Rescue Rangers weren’t nearly as crucial anymore, and as a result in my 2nd year the Rescue Rangers were disbanded as an independent branch and the remnants were folded into the Frontier Defense Fleet. Along with our independence, almost all of our ships were taken - including the carrier Gambier Bay I so desperately wanted to serve on.

Eight years later and the Frontier Rescue Rangers did little more than refuel stranded ships that had misjudged their remaining fuel. That is, until a month ago, when the Frontier Rescue Rangers were suddenly given 30 modified Fletcher class destroyers along with the promises of several capital ships and a massive budget increase. In addition to our normal duties, we were to combat the alien threat and rescue any individuals captured by them.

My first mission in command of the FDCV Zuikaku was to lead a task force of 18 vessels to rescue some captured explorers. As it would turn out, this was overkill. In addition to the Zuikaku we had the FDBB Hiei and Haruna - two modified Kongō-class battle cruisers which had been re-designated as Fast Battleships - and fifteen Ted Fujita-class Destroyers (modified Fletcher-class). While the main armament on the Kongōs and the torpedo launchers on the Ted Fujitas were of Alliance design, the 23cm double-barreled turrets were created using borrowed technology from the Theta Aliens.

The aliens, on the other hand, had a mere five cruisers guarding the transport vessel holding the captured explorers. The 40cm guns on the Hiei and Haruna and the Samuel B. Robert’s four 720mm torpedos practically atomized the cruisers. The Hiei’s 76cm “crew incapacitation” rounds also proved to be complete overkill. Of the three rounds fired at the transport, one hit the engines, one atomized the fuel tanker behind the transport, and the third round penetrated into the reactor room before detonating. We had included extra oxidizer in the bursting charge in case the ship’s atmosphere limited the spread of fires.

This turned out not to be the case, as the third shell set almost the entire ship’s insides on fire - killing 60% of the crew instantly. Frankly, we got lucky. Via neural implants on one of the explorers we knew they were locked inside a holding cell of sorts, but it’s very likely that had the “crew incapacitation” round been any more powerful there may have been no explorers left to rescue. Needless to say I’m prohibiting the use of these rounds until they can be fixed.

The boarding action was also very successful - there was not a single Alliance casualty during the firefight. One of the commandos transferred from the Anti-piracy force was quite amused at the 600 year old M2 Browning machine guns the Frontier Defense Force had been issued, and apparently thought it would be hilarious to bring it as his primary weapon. As it turns out, despite being 600 years old at this point, the M2 Browning was extremely effective - so much so that we have received no fewer than twenty requests to make the M2 Browning part of the standard loadout.

In terms of our primary objective, we were a bit too successful. Our orders were “to rescue as many of the five captured individuals as possible from the Theta Aliens.” When all was said and done, we had achieved a 1700% success rate - having rescued 85 of the 5 individuals captured. In addition to this, we had made first contact with three additional alien species aside from those comprising the Alliance. As it had turned out, the explorers we were sent to rescue had made friends - and upon being rescued, they demanded that we take on all 80 of the other individuals onboard the vessel. Leave it to the humans to make friends wherever they go…

Naturally, I was opposed to this request - we had nowhere near the resources necessary to care for 80 additional people, let alone 80 individuals from a variety of species we knew nothing about. It wasn’t until the explorers’ captain, Hanako, threatened to refuse rescue that I finally relented. Such is the stubbornness of humans. This is the same species that, upon seeing my Mother’s (recent) ancestors in person for the first time - a species known for being an apex predator - said “Awww, they look like kitties!” Before attempting to pet their heads, followed by sulking when my mother’s ancestors refused to allow it. I suppose it’s the human blood that flows through my veins that makes it hard to be too mad at them.

In any case, one individual was of particular interest to us due to Hanako’s claims that she had communicated with them. Naturally, we were skeptical. We had barely made any progress on decoding the Theta Aliens’ language after a month, it seemed impossible that a human could communicate with a completely different alien species after less than a day. Imagine our surprise when the alien spoke (admittedly limited, and broken) English.

I quickly discovered the secret behind their supernatural ability to learn languages, it was quite literally “supernatural” in nature. They are capable of communicating telepathically, and on rare occasions they can communicate with individuals from different species. This ability is extremely limited however, as there are many complications associated with communicating with an individual who does not share a language, and most individuals are not compatible. We had the individual attempt to communicate with everyone on the Zuikaku, and of the Human and Tathrax crew, only Hanako could hear them.

Despite this limitation, this individual would likely be very useful. According to Hanako, the individual served as a diplomat for some time, and knew many languages as a result. In addition to this, they knew a lot about the Theta Aliens (who they referred to as something like K’Lagreth). This would no doubt be extremely useful, both for information gathering, and for deciphering the Theta Aliens’ language. Given how none of the 1,500 some crew on the Zuikaku were compatible with the individual’s ability, it’s nothing short of a miracle that any of the five captured explorers were compatible.

Before returning to the Frontier to refuel and rearm, we decided to ask the individual for their name, as referring to them as “the/that alien,” or “the/that individual” was quite tiresome. Unfortunately, neither human nor tathrax vocal chords could actually pronounce their name, and I’m not certain that letters exist in any alliance language that could accurately transcribe it. In addition, their name was long, very long. Assuming that any of us could even pronounce it, most would struggle to remember. However, humans will do as humans will do, and upon hearing a part of their name that sounded vaguely like “Gregg,” the humans immediately took to calling them by that name. I suppose referring to them as “Gregg” is easier than referring to them in the 3rd person all the time…

After (slowly) providing basic accommodations for the numerous species onboard, we prepared to depart on the return journey to the Frontier. Due to the limited bandwidth for FTL communications, our transmission to the Frontier was extremely limited (speeds capped out at around 12 bits per second). This meant that most of the details regarding our new guests could not be included. I’m sure that Zack will be happy to hear that he’ll need to fill his precious space station with a wide variety of flammable gases, toxic gases, and strong oxidizers in order to provide for our unexpected rescuees.

Moving forward, the admiralty will need to make a decision on how to proceed from here. Clearly, the Alliance aren’t the only ones threatened by the Theta aliens. If Gregg’s reports are to be believed, the Theta Aliens have subjected no fewer than ten different civilizations, possibly more. They also noted that the exact location of the Theta Aliens’ homeworld is unknown to most, if not all outsiders. Originally our goal was to protect Alliance interests from the Alien threat, and negotiate a ceasefire as soon as possible. However, I now feel this is unlikely to work. The Mylr’s (Gregg’s species) were supposedly able to fend off the Theta Aliens for some time, but eventually, they too fell.

I feel a military campaign is necessary. There is much we could learn from these captured civilizations, and depriving the Theta Aliens of their resources, both living and non-living, would make it very unlikely that they could continue to attack us. In addition, it would ultimately be beneficial for us to free those countless individuals who are suffering at the hands of the Theta Aliens… Y’know, from a objective standpoint of course. Definitely nothing as ambiguous or illogical as feeling moral obligation to help them just because they’re in need. Nothing like that at all.

In any case, the sooner we can get the individuals we rescued back to their homeworlds, the better. While it’s true they were no longer in what could only be described as slavery, they hadn’t exactly returned to a normal life either. It would be best for them to return to their homeworlds. But as those homeworlds were supposedly under occupation, it would be hard to just bring them back and expect things to turn out fine.

I’ll chat with Zack about this once we return. I’m unwilling to just abandon the individuals we rescued today, and I’m sure Zack will feel the same (once he’s done complaining about having to fill the Frontier with a variety of dangerous gases). I don’t care how long or what it takes, but I swear on my ancestors that we will wage total war against the Theta Aliens - and we will free those unduly oppressed by them. Even if the admiralty refuses my plan, I will not allow the Theta Aliens to exploit any civilization any longer. The Theta Aliens’ empire’s collapse begins today.

Log end

Hey y’all. So as it turns out I’m physically incapable of sticking to schedules, so here’s this entry a day or so early. The next entry will probably be from Gregg’s perspective and may end up being a bit shorter (although I’ve thought this about literally every chapter so far) as it won’t be as focused on the larger plot. It will be a little more in the spirit of “humans are fucking weird” as it deals with Gregg adapting to the *ahem* oddities of living with humans.

Depending on how long it is, the next chapter/intermission may come out as early as next week. Like I said, apparently I’m incapable of sticking to a schedule. In the meantime, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. See y’all in anywhere from a few days to two weeks!

~Rad

#writing #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #reddit refugee #writers on tumblr #sci fi writing #hfy #humanity fuck yeah #humans and aliens #humans are space capybaras

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magpiefngrl · 5 months ago

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mid-year book tag

Thanks for tagging me, @bloody-wonder! It's become a fun tradition to do this every year and I've been eagerly anticipating it :)

This hasn't been as prolific a year for me as the last several years have been. I've read 34 books by end of June, so about 10-20 less than I used to, and a lot of these have been rereads. The past couple of months have been super busy and I read a lot of fic, but struggled to finish novels. Fingers crossed for a better reading summer.

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2024? I haven't read a book that blew me away so far. I've mentioned some of my faves here. I did enjoy most of my reads this year, but there isn't one book that stands out. (a fic, does, though. More on that later)

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2024? Dark Heir by Pacat. I was very invested, went back to read it again a week later, and it's made me very excited about the last novel.

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To? The Brides of High Hill by Nghi Vo is definitely on my list (this will wait for 2025). There's also a new fantasy novel called Foul Days by a Bulgarian author that I'm curious about. Finally, Rebecca Roanhorse's Mirrored Heavens comes out soon but I still haven't read the second one in the series, so it'll also have to wait.

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2024? Like you, KJ Charles's The Duke at Hazard is the one I'm most eagerly waiting.

5. Biggest Disappointment? I've been reading The Master and Margarita for two months now, forcibly stopping myself from DNFing it these days, because I don't actually hate it, it's just I can't bring myself to read it. But I also want to have read it, to be done with it. Idk why I'm struggling so much. Perhaps I'm not in the mood for it and would appreciate it at a later date. Based on the title and the positive reviews, I expected something more fascinating.

6. Biggest Surprise? The above, I guess.

7. Favourite New Author? Somehow, the only new authors I've read this year are Aliette de Bodard and Lois McMaster Bujold, and Bujold is the better one of the two. (The rest of the authors were people I've read before and I knew what their writing was like.)

8. Newest Favourite Character? Miles Vorkosigan, for his cleverness and his ability to always get in trouble and then to get creatively out of it.

9. Newest Fictional Crush? Not quite a crush, but my latest obsession is Bucky Barnes, entirely because of the fic I mentioned above (Out of the Dead Land, orphaned) which gave me the worst fic hangover. It's a stucky fic, a ship that never interested me, and it gave me feral feels about Bucky; it made me go back and rewatch a few Marvel films (and I had to torrent them since I'd ended my disney subscription; in other words, I had to go to some trouble); and it was a fic I kept thinking for days after I finished it. I'm actively stopping myself from rewatching Winter Soldier again today. And yes, not a book character, but the obsession is based on a fic and he's fictional so I say he counts :)

💕Best Ship💕 I loved Asmodeus and Thuan in de Bodard's Dominion of the Fallen series. Asmodeus is a Fallen Angel who likes stabbing and torture, Thuan is a dragon prince who tries to temper down his stabby husband. Will and James from Dark Rise are also a ship I enjoyed, though I'm more interested in their past selves.

10. Book That Made You Cry? There hasn't been one this year so far. And I cry easily, and I consider books that make me cry Superior. This tells you how mid the year has been.

12. Favourite Book Adaptation You Saw This Year? I really liked Dune II but haven't read the book yet so don't know if it was a good adaptation. It was definitely a great film.

13. Favourite Review You’ve Written This Year? Have written a couple of longer reviews on GR but nothing that stands out as more creative or unique. I've been thinking about posting reviews on my website and I'd like to figure out a unique or unusual or at least a me way to do them.

14. Most Beautiful Cover? I read almost exclusively on my Kobo and pay scant attention to covers.

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End of The Year? Many!

The Master and Margarita! hahah sobs :((

Finish a Lymond reread

reread tgcf now that I got all the novels

Harrow the Ninth

Some more Vorkosigan novels

Vita Nostra, which I've just begun

a couple of novels I bought YEARS ago and still haven't finished

and if I can read at least one of my 60-odd unread physical books I'll consider it a triumph

Tagging anyone who wants to do this! Perhaps @skeptiquex @hoko-onchi-writes @wolfpants @lettersbyelise and @gracerene might want to get the ball rolling?

2022 mid year post

2023 mid year post

#mid year book tag #2024 books #books

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itsscromp · 1 year ago

Note

Imagine Peter Quill from the Edios game having to deal with a rebellious teenager from Earth who says his references are outdated and dumb-

It came to me in a vision.

Peter Quill/ Star-lord (Eidos) x reader

Oh... My... God anon, I love this to the absolute death, This is the best idea of this month already. This game means a lot to me as it impacted my 2022 in the most positive way possible, Shout out to the star lord actor Jon Mclaren who did amazing with this, If you wanna see him he does Twitch streams too here but for now enjoy the story :D. Word count:854

Being the newest member of the Guardians of the Galaxy was already tough enough, but being from Earth in a new setting was even more daunting for a kid. You were only 8 when you were kidnapped from Earth. Peter found you and took you in when you were 15, You were a bit of a rebellious teenager when you joined as well. Forming a friendship with Rocket as well, causing as much mischief as possible on the ship.

But one thing that kind of irritated you was Peter's constant pop culture references. He never fails to make at least one reference of any movie, game or song he knows.

"We're gonna need a bigger boat." He said as he saw fing fang foom in person.

"Really Pete, jaws ??" You grumbled at him in annoyance.

It went on and on and on, You almost retaliated in every way to try and get him to stop. But today was one of your outbursts.

You were helping rocket build one of his latest machines, Peter managed to walk by and see what you were doing.

"Wow, nice gizmo's you two. I do hope though that it doesn't go back in time to kill me" He smirked.

"Quill ya know I don't get those references of yours." Rocket said annoyingly.

"Yeah, Pete honestly they're outdated and dumb. Keep up with the times." You said without even looking at him.

He looked at you with such shock in his eyes, his references, outdated ?? no no no.

"What, My references are not outdated and dumb, They stand the test of time almost every single day"

"Yeah but doesn't mean you get to do it almost every single day !!!"

He was pretty shocked about your yelling, over something so small.

"Ok ok, I'll cut back on the references alright" He tried to calm you down.

"Yeah sure the last time you promised that it only lasted an hour, Pete just stop it ok !!!" You bolted off to your room and locked the door.

"Great, two moody humies on the ship" Rocket snorted as he went back to work.

Peter was at a loss for words about what he witnessed, You called his references outdated. This caused him to feel a little flat all week, You noticed this as he wasn't as chirpy as he used to be. He was just the strict leader.

Maybe you went a bit too far, so when he was on rotation one night, you got out of your room and went to the cockpit of the ship.

"Hey, Pete..." You softly greeted.

"Hey kiddo, You should be in bed"

"I know, but I wanted to talk to you."

You then went to your seat and turned to him, With an almost worried look on your face.

"What's wrong Pete ??"

He went a little bit quiet, as if almost not choosing to answer you, you turned around and stared out into the cosmos before he finally spoke up again.

"Do you ever consider... That these things may be the only things that remind you of home ??" He said as you turned around.

"These things that remind you of your past life when your lost in an unfamiliar place, where your scared. These reminders make you feel safe and happy... That's why I keep talking about my movies and games and music, That's why I keep referencing them." He said sadly.

You rubbed your face, feeling the guilt of yelling at him climb up on you. You too had things that made you feel happy and safe.

"Pete... I'm sorry"

"It's fine y/n..."

"No, It's not fine. I get where you're coming from. I too feel safe and happy when I think about things that make me happy." You said as tears started to swell in your eyes. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have yelled at you or called your references dumb and outdated. My mind has been going through a lot and I don't know why I took it out on you. Please, Pete... I'm so sorry"

Peter looked at you sadly and stood up from his seat, gently walking over to you and wrapping your arms around you tightly. "It's ok kiddo... I forgive you" He said softly smiling.

The guilt lifted off your chest as you let out a shaky deep sigh. Your best friend forgave you, But you wanted to make it right with him.

"Pete... remember that device I found on Knowhere that had movies on it ??"

"Yeah, why ??"

"Well... I found the robocop movies on there. we have nothing to do tomorrow, wanna watch a marathon ??" You looked up at him, But from the way his smile widened, you felt happy yourself.

"Dead or alive your coming with me" He did his best robocop voice and ruffled your hair. "Of course I'm in"

You giggled as you fixed your hair. After the whole situation, you've grown to love Peter's references. He always knew how to make it... Well him But you wouldn't change peter at all for the entire galaxy. Not one bit.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

#platonic #reader insert #peter quill x reader #peter quill #star lord x reader #star lord #guardians of the galaxy imagine #gotg game

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its-a-ittle-bit-cold · 1 year ago

Text

Down to the place we used to lay when we were kids

4.1k

series masterlist

my masterlist

summary: On the way to your home planet, you and Anakin put the past at rest.

A/n: I KNOW i said i would post like 3 weeks ago but this chapter was a journey to write!!! enjoy <3

The Legacy always felt like home for you. When your Master got and named the cruiser, he always told you that the Legacy and the men who cared for it were the best of the best. You stand on the bridge, combat armor fully equipped, cloak thrown over your shoulders. You always get cold upon takeoff.

Your Clone Commander and right-hand-man, Jex, stands with his helmet under his arm, speaking quietly with Admiral Jakobsen while you observe takeoff, waiting for your mission partner.

The newest distress signal came from your home planet - Onapesca. Unlike other Jedi, you actually remember your family, your parents and your cousins. Sometimes the memories blur, but others, it’s like you’re six years old again. The Council had disagreed and had had to vote on who they would send… until the next call came in, requesting you by name. Onapesca has a very specific force signature, and only those who know how to access that ‘frequency’ can enter the atmosphere without being battered and killed by force storms and the like.

And so, the Council sent you - and the Jedi with the most similar Force signature to you, General Skywalker.

“So, I hear this is the party ship,” Anakin’s voice sounds behind you. You turn, brushing the sides of your cloak back as you turn. He’s there with Rex, who approaches his brother and best friend with a complicated handshake. “What’s she called, again?”

“Anakin, Rex. Welcome to the Legacy.”

“General, we’re ready for takeoff,” Jakobson tells you. You nod, turning back to the big windows that let you look out over the cruiser.

“Whenever you’re ready, Admiral.”

Jex and Rex inform both you and Skywalker that they’ll go to speak with the troops before reporting back for the briefing for today. The journey to Onapesca from Coruscant is quite a long one - three day’s worth of space travel to reach the outer ring of storms. You’ve already debriefed the 500th, but the small force of 501st troopers brought with Anakin and Rex are none the wiser, so you schedule a full debrief in othree hours - enough time to get everything settled for the journey.

There’s inner turmoil poorly masked inside your soon to be partner (maybe it’s just poorly masked to you).

“Is something wrong, Skywalker?”

Anakin glances at you. You keep your gaze firmly locked on the receding planet of Coruscant, lights flickering, lighting the whole planet up.

“I can feel your anxiety, you forget. Is something bothering you?”

The blockade he’s built flickers. You try not to peek in, but you catch a glimpse of orange and blue and white. Wide blue eyes.

That can only be one person.

“Ahsoka? Where is she, by the way?”

Anakin bumps your shoulder.

“You know, you’re not supposed to do that.”

You wait silently.

He sighs.

“She’s back at the temple. Training.”

“Is she not your Padawan?”

“She didn’t want to come.”

That’s unlikely. You stay quiet, making sure your disbelief radiates toward him.

“She’s still having problems from the latest. I didn’t want to overwhelm her with another mission so soon.”

Finally, you turn to study him. He’s tired, eyes dark, heavy with a sort of exhaustion that comes and doesn’t go.

If he’s this tired, how is Ahsoka?

“She’s fourteen, Anakin. I wonder sometimes if she should be here.”

By here, you mean in the war.

“We were younger.”

“Look how that turned out.”

You turn away from him, walking down the path out of the bridge.

Look how that turned out.

You’re nine.

This is a clear memory - one you revisit often.

Anakin is a year older than you, ten when you meet, although you’ve been in training a lot longer, first as a youngling for a brief stint and then a Padawan learner, when you turned eight you were given a Master.

He’s kind, one of the Masters who would visit the Crèche often in search of a Padawan. He sensed your Force presence and the ability you’ve already developed, requesting you to be his Padawan.

As a young, advanced Padawan who’d beat some of your seniors already, you stuck out like a sore thumb.

Until Anakin.

Until he found you hiding away in the gardens, wiping tears with the backs of grubby, mud stained hands, after a particularly humiliating win.

He comes over and unravels the fortress of vines and flowers you’ve grown over yourself like a wall. The plants like him. They know that he’s just as different as you.

“I heard you crying,” He says.

Your tears dry immediately at the sight of him. He can’t see you cry, you have to prove that you’re just like the other Padawans.

“I cry too,” he tells you, skipping right over the gap in conversation. You sniff shyly.

“… you do?”

How could he, the Chosen One, cry? He’s already made a name for himself!

“Yeah,” He’s suddenly bashful. “I miss my mom sometimes.”

“Oh.”

You miss your family, too.

“That’s okay. I miss my family, too.”

It’s his turn to be surprised.

“You do?”

He’s perked up, and so have you. This is strange - another Jedi who even remembers their birth family.

So you talk, and talk, and giggle at his bad jokes.

It’s strange. You both need someone, someone who’s not your teacher or a friend, someone who understands the hurt of remembering.

And your Masters find you teaching him

how to manipulate the plants with only your hands, giggling when the flower he’s growing spits a wad of pollen in his face.

They share a look, and know this is the start.

Fourrteen, and blood runs hot.

You’re still getting bullied, but now Anakin is bigger than the bullies now.

He sprouted like a weed the past year and a half, growing what seems like five feet in the shortest span of time possible. He towers heads over your steadily growing self, now, all corded muscle and catlike movements.

The next time you’re made fun of, pushed around in the height of insecurity, he’s there to throw a well-timed punch to the face of a nineteen-year-old Nautolan who’s shorter and stockier than him.

“Anakin!” your voice has climbed octaves as the two brawl. Full-on, no sabers, no Force, brawl. Over one stupid comment and one poorly thought out shove. “Stop it! get off him!”

He doesn’t stop.

The other spectators are both screaming the the two Padawans to stop, and egging them on. Your throat catches on a sob, emotion building up, the feeling of helplessness is not one you’ve ever enjoyed.

You don’t know what else to do.

So you crack the force like a whip, sending them flying in opposite directions. Spreading your fingers and hands out separating the two Padawans, suspending them in the air just in time to stop them from hurtling into the marble walls. Everyone in the training hall goes silent at the sight of your huge feat of The Force, probably feeling the repercussions through the veil as Master Bosque, Master Kenobi, Master Secura, and Master Yoda crash into the room, seeing the two males floating, suspended in the air while you dig yourself dents into the marble floor, crackling under the weight of The Force.

Anakin paddles his arms, trying to get free of your hold.

At the sight of your Master, you let them down, setting them gently on the floor of the training arena.

Anakin’s eyes are on you.

His eye’s swelling already, but he’s otherwise fine. The other… well, his robes are torn, he’s bleeding from one eye, and one of his tentacles is displaced. Definitely worse off than your best friend.

Anakin winks at you as Obi reprimands him, and you bite back a smile as you leave with your own Master.

After this, Yoda offers you specialized training to harness your capabilities over The Force, but that’s another story completely.

Sixteen, and Anakin is distant.

He doesn’t seem to know how to act around you since you’ve filled out a bit, gotten prettier, learned how to dress for undercover missions you go on together, posing as clueless teenagers roaming the streets of Coruscant.

Recently, you’re not friends, out roaming. You’re hopeless romantics, ducking into alleyways to pretend to break the code.

You’ve dressed up in a nice little dress , hidden your sabers under the skirt and thrown on a bit of makeup.

Of course, this is all provided by the Order, for a mission investigating an emerging Coruscant Spice ring. Dangerous spice, that is, not the stuff you can snort and get a little woozy.

Anakin’s wearing a relatively nice-looking local suit, hair gelled back and braid tucked into a high collar. You can easily hide yours under your hair, but he’s got his shaved head to deal with as well. (and that little rat-tail on the back of his head).

He puts his hand on the small of your back - more like hovering it there- and you skirt the streets.

You slip into an alleyway, one where you’ve been informed of a deal going down.

Anakin presses you against the wall and waits for the signs of life. Footsteps, a scuffle. Something.

You try to meet his eyes. He avoids it.

Your Masters are in your ears, just like your heartbeat thinking for itself.

There it is. The deal. Someone’s coming into the alleyway.

Everything’s blurry with the scent of the cologne he’s spritzed on, something gross and insufferable.

His lips are clammy on yours, you can’t really focus on the kiss: your first, and probably only. You’re listening in, and when the dealers leave, he’s looking at you.

Looking at you.

“Don’t even think about it, Skywalker.” You click your comm on, wiping your lips. “Masters, come in. We have the location for the next deal.”

Anakin drags behind, quiet for the rest of the night.

After that, you go away for a while. Try to complete your Sentinel courses. Get everything ready. You go off world and try to give Anakin space.

Turns out, all the space in the galaxy isn’t far enough.

Age 20, newly knighted and reunited, you join forces again to combat a string of terrorist attacks.

As a Sentinel, you’ve always felt connected with the general population, maybe more so than the rest of your Jedi peers. So, on your first mission after the Knighting ceremony , yourself and Anakin investigating a string of explosions and bomb threats, it was up to you dealing with the informants.

The latest is a near-human around your age, witness to the bombing attempt of a sector of civilian shops. He’s bigger than you, charming, and a total flirt, and you can tell that Anakin absolutely hates him.

You can trust him, you think, with being civil. He’s not been overly emotional since that brutal day on Tatooine when you were eighteen.

Anakin, newly Knighted and full of pride and the sort of accidental prejudice that you’ve found lately in the Order, is certainly a sight to behold. In comparison to Aster, the informant, he’s wider, taller. More severe, more lithe, all corded muscle.

He can be intimidating.

Not to you.

Never to you.

But he stands behind you so menacingly during your interview with Aster that you have to tell him to leave in your head.

Aster smiles charmingly at you, pearly whites gleaming.

When he leaves the first day, Anakin tells you that he has a bad feeling about him.

“You have a bad feeling about everyone.”

Now, it seems like so much could have been prevented if you had only followed his advice.

You sense his presence entering the room, even with your eyes closed.

“You’re thinking about it, too.”

The briefing went well, no complications. Both groups of troopers fully briefed and in training together.

“The last mission we were on together.”

He sits down cross from you, your knees touching, the force flowing like it used to.

Like before the blowup, before the fall.

“Why are you so mad?” He’s waving his hands around, face red, twisted. You have this roiling boiling pot of overflowing rage in the pit of your stomach, tears huling up in your chest as you try to verbalize how you’re feeling.

Because of Anakin, Aster is dead. Because of Aster, Anakin could be.

And because of you…

Because of you, and your misjudgement, this is the first mission you’ve been on, and the first you’ve failed.

“Because, Anakin! You… You disrespected my orders, and you gave me your word.” You have tears threatening to spill. He’s never seen you mad, not like this. You take a. deep breath. “You promised me that you would go with the plan. You told me that you wouldn’t - that you-“

You breathe slow and heavy.

“You put yourself in danger. You disregarded me, my orders, and my authority. And because of you…”

Anakin isn’t even shameful. There’s no regret in his eyes. The tears spill over.

“He’s dead. You helped kill a man, Anakin. He’s dead and you have no remorse for what you’ve done.”

Anakin gets this look in his eye, the one he gets after you’ve bested him in training. Like has angry and disappointed in himself but he’ll never admit it.

You can’t be around him anymore for fear of saying something that ruins your relationship.

You get one, two, three, four steps in before…

The angry monster rears its head.

“It’s cause you’re fucking him, right? That’s why you’re mad.”

His voice grates on you like he knew it would.

How dare he.

“I let you cry to me, I held you in my arms and I put up with your bullshit. Get over it. I’m sorry your mother died. I’m sorry you think the world is against you, but that gives you no right to treat me like shit. I’m done with your bullshit. Get over your fucking attachment issues. I’m done.”

You spit out all the pent up anger like lava over your best friend. He’s so angry he’s seething, torn by your unusually biting words, words from someone he thought he could trust. You can’t stop the last words of your tirade from slipping out.

“Fuck. You.”

“You wouldn’t, I’m not rich enough.”

You close your eyes, laughing darkly.

“You’re pathetic. You don’t deserve that title you carry, that saber you wield. You wonder why everyone in your life leaves, well, mystery solved. They’d rather die than suffer through what I have.”

You ignore the guilt building in your stomach, tears streaming down your face. You want to throw up. Anakin’s gone sheet-white, and instead of apologizing for letting your emotions take over, you turn tail and run.

You open your eyes, biting back the same jumping feeling in your stomach, like you want to puke up all your intestines and hide away in a hole for the rest of your life. Anakin won’t meet your eyes. maybe you won’t meet his.

“That was… hard to watch,” He drags out eventually. “I’d forgotten…”

“All the awful things I said?” You laugh, hollow. He nods. “You’re lucky.” Tears prick at your eyes at the memory of the pure hatred running through your veins.

“When I got home that night my sabers turned red. That’s the most hatred I’ve felt ever, for myself, not just you. I purified them, but the color never came back.”

Anakin’s eyes widen.

“I didn’t know that could happen. They did use to be blue, didn’t they.”

“Matching set,” You say. Your hands are shaking. “Anakin, I’m-“

“I’m sorry,” He darts out at the same time. He barrels on. “For doing what I did. For letting my emotions cloud my judgment. For attacking you when you were down.”

It sounds like he’s been rehearsing this apology, just like you.

“I’m sorry, too,” You say. “Anger is never an excuse to say all those awful things, even if we weren’t in the Order.”

You fiddle with the hem of your robes.

“You changed my life.” Anakin breaks the silence. “I don’t know if it was for better or worse, but you changed me.”

“We changed each other, Anakin.”

You sit, knee-to-knee, like that, studying one another, finally at rest with what happened what feels like so long ago.

Arrival on Onapesca is a risky maneuver. The Force storms that surround the planet hide it away from your searching, and it takes almost half a day to fully breach all three barricades. You don’t know what awaits you, there’s no way to see through The Force the happenings on the planet.

You stand on deck in the small transport cruiser, Anakin at your side. You’ve cleared the cockpit, save Jex and Rex who will pilot the cruiser through the tunnel you create. The rest of your clone force is in the hill, the safest from the storm. Anakin is here for two reasons: He’s always been adept at lending you strength through The Force, and the second is a secret from him: he can take over if the strain weakens you to the point of not being able to support yourself and the ship.

Rex and Jex sit in commander’s chairs, operating the ship’s shields.

“On my count, lower the shields, Jex.”

Jex clicks a switch, salutes at you.

“Three,” You begin. You close your eyes, holding your hands out in front of you, The shield begins to bloom from your fingertips. Anakin stands behind you, ready to grant you his strength.

“Two.”

You picture an invisible barrier between the ship and the swirling, volatile mess in front of you. You bring your arms out wide, willing your force signature to become you.

“Now! Anakin!”

Your eyes snap open as his power overcomes you, and you plunge into the storm.

The tricky thing with the entry to force-planets like Onapesca is that, along with the shield, you must also fend off attacks and phantoms, using an immense amount of control and drawing on The Force with the ability of a Jedi Grand Master.

Luckily, you have Anakin to aid you.

You’re sure Jex and Rex think you look positively insane, but it’s working.

You lash your hands out all around you, feeling the waves of energy cascading upon you, harnessing it, adding to the shield. The ship begins to pick up speed, torpedoing straight through the second storm barrier, and with it, your movements faster.

Anakin and you, a sole being in The Force, Waves crashing over you but you don’t move, you press the water away, swimming to shore.

The high-speed noise and drag stops suddenly, bringing dead silence. You open your eyes, just to see the shield of multicolored light fade away, into a bright blue, cloudless sky.

You look down into your home planet, all greens and shining cities, made of marble, metals and jewels, supported in the sky by the force, and the home world below, waterfalls from the islands cascading down into more of the same beautiful, mountainous landscape, refracting light, dancing like a hundred rainbows over the lakes and seas.

The sun is going down as you approach the main capital city of Onapesca, Ostero.

Ostero is a wonder in itself, buildings crammed together around green spaces, carved marble and gold architecture, all the forces of nature working together to build the connection to every building, a metaphor for the constant connectedness that the force brings to the world.

The people in the streets are a wide diversity of travelers and locals lucky enough to find themselves in this haven of a city, or they would be, if there were any.

The streets of the Capital are barren of any trace of life as the transport flies over them, bound for the castle.

“That’s very unusual,” You point out to your companions: “What’s going on?”

The ship hovers over the castle. You’re jolted into Anakin, and you both fall to the floor, you on top of him. He grunts softly, and you roll off him.

“I’ve lost control of the cruiser!” Jex calls out. Rex is clicking furiously at the buttons.

Then it hits you.

“Oh!” You facepalm. “The hanger uses a Force pulley to bring in ships! I completely forgot about that!”

“You remember that from when you were seven?” Anakin asks, incredulously.

“No, I read it in the mission brief.”

Sure enough, the cruiser is being reeled downwards. You rush over and shut off the engine entirely, completely trusting the Force pulley to not send you crashing down.

“Things work different here on Onapesca, boys.” Your lips curve into the smile as the familiar hangar comes into view. “It’s almost like magic.”

It starts with fanfare, and you think, okay, this is normal. Trumpets and horns and big leaves and colorful sparks heralding your return.

Then comes the weeping. Lines of citizens weeping happily, to which all of your companions seem very awkward about.. Truth is, this is a little out of the ordinary.

After the weeping, when you step into the first courtyard that the hanger precedes, it gets really weird. Banners with your face on them in the Onapescan script that you can only haltingly understand. Statues of you and your family facing the sky.

“Is this normal?” Anakin whispers. Jex and your crew are having an absolute field day with one of the particularly racy statues of you - a statue with a physique so drastically different from yours it’s, admittedly, funny.

“Absolutely not. Skipp, I’ll skin you alive if you send that holo to anyone.”

The aisle set out for you leads to a set of double doors entering the first lift, but they don’t open when you try them with a wave of your hand.

“What-“

“Your Majesty!”

it seems almost directed at you, so you turn your head, to see a disheveled looking old man in long robes - robes of a priest, the King’s right hand man- running towards you from one of the floating stone lifts off the path.

“…Pieth?”

Pieth is older, frailer and thinner than he was when you last saw him, but he’s almost the same otherwise. Your Uncle’s best friend and companion, Pieth had tried to mentor you before realizing you were Jedi.

“You’ve arrived! Ha ha ha!” he does a strange little dance. He was always a little eccentric, that Pieth.

“Pieth, I’m here to respond to the distress call? I’ve brought a small clone battalion and a fellow Jedi Knight to assist you-“

“My dear friends!” Pieth rushes into an embrace with Anakin, who eyes you, paralyzed. “Thank you for accompanying our Queen and assisting us!”

Wait.

“Pieth… did you say…”

This is the first time Pieth falls silent.

“Pieth, my uncle? It was he who sent the distress call?”

Pieth glances at your companions, eyes hovering on Anakin, whose whole body is tense. Like you, he and the clones have made the same connection as you.

“The late King Karthik died the last week. Our people have been in mourning and in hiding for fear of the virus that killed him.”

Your mouth drops open. Queen of Onapesca?

The death of your uncle, while tragic, was not unexpected. He had always been sickly, and that had been many cycles ago. You’re actually surprised he even lasted this long.

“The throne… Is mine?”

“Traditionally, the throne falls to the heir with the strongest pull to the Force. In this instance, this is you, and with your companions, you will be the most capable Queen of Onapescan history.”

You share a look with Anakin.

“Pieth, I think you’ve drastically misunderstood my purpose here.” You glance around the courtyard, the statues all making sense now. “I’m here to respond to a distress call, Not to become Queen of Onapesca. Also, my only force-sensitive companion is Master Skywalker, these men are some of the finest soldiers in the Republic, yes, but they are no Force-users.”

Pieth smiles knowingly, waving a hand. You turn to see some shrubbery between two statues of you doing increasingly raunchy poses part, leaving…

“Ahsoka!” Anakin barks. Ahsoka at least has the sense to look sheepish. You tilt your head. Being back on Onapesca has really messed with your ability to sense presences.

Anakin practically drags Ahsoka over to you. She’s a mess of scrawny elbows and knees, orange skin blushing slightly as she glances at you, undoubtedly checking if you’re mad. You could never be, of course. You grin and wink at her, much to Anakin’s disdain.

“Come, your majesty. Honored soldiers. High Priest and Priestess.”

Ahsoka and Anakin both stare at you behind Piethz Ahsoka mouths, What the Fuck! and Anakin hisses at her, Ahsoka! We don’t say the fuck word!, ensuing a hushed argument behind you, and all you can do is let Pieth tell you of the happenings on Onapesca, in revelry of your new title.

What does this mean, becoming Queen of Onapesca?

Will you be able to give the throne away?

Or will you have to leave the Jedi Order entirely?

oooooook so…

I sort of have a plan for the rest of this series (like 5 more parts), so those are gonna come around eventually.

On a separate note, i’ve been busy with end of school stuff for the past month or so, so sorry for the weird update timings.

thanks for reading!!

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