#very slowly working on how to adjust and make it better between other projects

[prosebushpatch]

I rewrote my thesis and it's under 120k words bay-beeeeeeeee!!!!!!! Let's goooooo!!!!!!

[thedensworld]

How Love Letter Works | LJh

Pairing: Producer-Idol Jihoon! x Producer Reader!

Genre: fluff, crush to lovers au!

Summary: Jihoon watched you grown, from a trainee to a co-producer. So, a love confession would be the last thing he expected.

Jihoon was the co-producer for your debut project. For six intense months, he observed you and the other trainees with a sharp, discerning eye. From the very beginning, he was certain you would make it into the debut line. It was like watching a reflection of his younger self — the grit, the passion, the unwavering determination. Every week during your progress presentations, he saw it more clearly. This one’s different, he thought. This one’s special.

You were destined to debut in Pledis’s new girl group. No one could convince him otherwise. He could already picture it — you shining on stage, a star in the making.

That’s why the news hit him so hard. It came when he was in the middle of a world tour, just a month before the official debut announcement. The call came from Soonyoung, his teammate, who shared his belief in you. Jihoon could still hear the disappointment in Soonyoung’s voice as he delivered the news.

"Y/n didn’t make it."

At first, Jihoon didn’t believe it. No, that’s impossible. He didn’t even think before calling Bumzu, the main producer for the project. His voice was sharp, urgent. "What happened?" he demanded. "She was supposed to debut. We all saw it."

On the other end of the line, Bumzu sighed. "We fought for her, Jihoon. We really did. But the executives had other plans."

Other plans? Jihoon’s chest tightened with frustration. His grip on the phone grew tense. "Then what was the point of all of this? What was the point of that project if the decision was already made?"

The room around him fell silent. His members stopped what they were doing, eyes wide with surprise. For the first time in a long time, they saw him lose his composure. Jihoon was known for being calm, collected, and focused. But this? This was something else.

The call ended, but the bitterness lingered. He told himself it would be the last time he ever saw potential like yours — raw, undeniable, and destined for greatness. It was a rare thing to witness, and losing it felt like a personal defeat.

Time moved on. Tours, albums, and schedules blurred together. Three years passed in what felt like a flash. Jihoon was still at the heart of the industry, a powerhouse behind the scenes and on stage.

But then, something unexpected happened.

One morning, during a production team meeting, the Team Leader stood at the front of the room, introducing a new producer. Jihoon barely glanced up at first, focused on his notes.

"Everyone, please welcome our newest producer, Ji Y/N."

The name struck him like a jolt of electricity. Slowly, he lifted his head, eyes narrowing in disbelief. And there you were. Standing at the front of the room with the same fire in your eyes that he remembered from three years ago. But this time, you weren’t a trainee. You weren’t just potential. You were standing on equal ground.

His heart swelled with something between pride and awe. She made it after all, he thought. Not in the way anyone had expected, but perhaps in a way that was even better.

Because now, you were the one calling the shots.

You were the main producer for the very group that had debuted without you. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone, least of all Jihoon. Sometimes, as he watched you from across the studio, he wondered if there was any bitterness left in you. Did it still hurt? he wondered. You were supposed to be with them — on stage, in the spotlight. But here you were, behind the glass, calling the shots.

If there was resentment, you never showed it. You were focused, sharp, and commanding in every session, your presence undeniable. The idols who had once been your fellow trainees now hung on your every word, adjusting their notes and vocals the moment you gave feedback. You had become the kind of leader that even Jihoon had to respect.

It was during one of these sessions that Bumzu, ever playful, leaned back in his chair after listening to the final notes of your demo. His eyebrows lifted in exaggerated surprise.

"Is it even possible to create something like this?" he teased, shooting you a look of mock disbelief.

Jihoon glanced up from his notebook, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He clapped his hands slowly, his eyes glinting with pride and amusement.

Caught off guard, you burst into laughter, cheeks heating up. You tugged your hoodie over your face, as if that could somehow hide you from the praise. "Ah, stop it!" you groaned, voice muffled under the fabric.

But neither Bumzu nor Jihoon stopped. They kept clapping, grinning like they'd just witnessed something legendary.

"Don’t be shy now, Y/n," Bumzu called out, eyes crinkling with mischief. "A genius should never hide."

Jihoon leaned back, still watching you with that quiet, thoughtful gaze. You were no longer the trainee fighting for a spot on the debut line. You were a producer, a creator, and a force that couldn’t be ignored. If there was ever any bitterness in her, she turned it into something greater, he thought, his smirk softening into something warmer.

Pride was a strange feeling for him, but at that moment, he felt it all the same.

"I’ll leave the lyrics to Jihoon. I trust him," Bumzu said with a playful grin, tapping Jihoon on the shoulder before stretching his arms and heading for the door.

"Don’t let us down, genius," Bumzu added over his shoulder, his teasing tone echoing through the studio as the door clicked shut behind him.

You shifted in your seat, glancing at Jihoon with a hint of hesitation. "Sorry for bothering you with this," you said, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of your hoodie. It wasn’t easy for you to ask for help, but for this project, you’d made an exception. Jihoon’s lyricism had always been something you admired, and you knew he could bring out the soul of the song in ways few others could.

Jihoon tilted his head, eyes crinkling in gentle amusement. "Don’t mention it," he said, his voice calm but sincere. "I’m happy I can help."

He reached for a stack of papers on the table, tapping them into a neat pile before holding them out to you. "Let’s start with this," he said, sliding the freshly revised lyrics toward you.

You leaned forward, eyes scanning the words with quiet intensity. Each line felt like it had weight, every phrase deliberate. There were subtle changes — words swapped for stronger imagery, rhythms that hit with more precision. You recognized his touch immediately.

"These are... really good," you admitted, glancing at him with a look of awe. "It feels like it hits harder now."

Jihoon shrugged, but you didn’t miss the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That’s the goal," he replied, tapping his pen against the edge of the table. His gaze shifted toward you, eyes steady but kind. "But if anything feels off, we can rework it. I want it to feel yours."

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard for a moment. You nodded, warmth blooming quietly in your chest. "Then let’s make it ours," you said with a small smile, lifting the paper as if it were something precious.

"But how did you even think of this?" you asked, eyes still fixed on the lyrics in front of you. Awe colored your voice as you traced the words with your fingertips. "I really like the theme — love letter. It’s so perfect."

Jihoon leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen thoughtfully against the table. "Flutter," he said simply, his gaze distant like he was replaying a memory. "When I heard the demo for the first time, it felt like that... like the feeling you get when you read a love letter."

His words hung in the air for a moment, soft but powerful. It was the kind of thing that lingered in your mind, making you pause just to feel it a little longer.

But then, as if catching himself, Jihoon shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, brushing away the atmosphere he had just created — as if he wasn’t the one who had built it in the first place. "Anyway, it’s nothing deep," he said with a small, self-conscious chuckle.

You glanced at him, catching the faint smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t just a random idea — that much was obvious. There was something familiar in the way he spoke about it, like he was remembering something personal.

His gaze flickered briefly to the side, his fingers tapping a quiet rhythm on the table. Flutter, he’d said. The same feeling that stirred in him every time he’d read the love letters he’d received years ago. Letters he could still recall, word for word.

You tilted your head, watching him with quiet curiosity. "It’s not nothing, you know," you said softly. "You can feel it in the lyrics. It’s real."

Jihoon glanced at you, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than usual. Then, with a faint shrug, he looked back at the paper. "If it feels real, then we’re on the right track," he muttered, but the small smile that stayed on his face told you that, maybe, he was feeling that same flutter all over again.

*

You heard it — fluttering. You weren’t sure what Jihoon was implying, but everything about it seemed to point to the theme: Love Letter.

Back at your home studio, you sat in your chair, the lyrics you’d revised with Jihoon resting in your hands. Your eyes traced each word, but your mind was somewhere else. You leaned back with a heavy sigh, letting the weight of everything settle over you. How did we get here? You and Jihoon — now equals. It felt surreal. Time had flown faster than you realized.

Memories crept in like old songs on replay. You remembered him during your trainee days — strict but attentive. He’d been one of the hardest people to impress, and somehow, that made you work even harder. You poured everything into every performance, every evaluation, every moment. Not just for yourself, but for him. To make him see you. To be seen by him.

That feeling... it should have disappeared once you stepped into this building as a producer. You were no longer a trainee chasing approval. You were his peer now. But somehow, it lingered. It always lingered.

Your hand drifted toward your desk, fingers brushing over a familiar object. A letter. The paper was worn, its edges soft from age, a faint coffee stain marking one corner. It had been with you for years — a quiet reminder of something you never quite let go of. You’d taken care of it like it was precious. Like your feelings for him. Feelings that never faded, no matter how much you told yourself they would.

Your fingers traced the edges of the letter, and your heart thudded louder in your chest. It had been like this since earlier — ever since Jihoon mentioned it.

"Flutter. Like the feeling you get when you read a love letter."

Your breath caught in your throat. Your heart, which was already unsteady around him, felt even more chaotic now. It had been this way for years. Back then, when you were just a trainee, it had been worse. You’d poured all those wild, uncontrollable feelings into letters. Handwritten confessions only meant for him.

How many had you written? How many had you left behind, hoping, wishing, praying he would notice? You always knew he would. He’s Jihoon, after all. He noticed everything.

He noticed when you were in pain during the monthly evaluations, his sharp gaze catching the smallest wince. He noticed when you had a cold during recording, quietly leaving a warm drink on the table near you. He even noticed when you cut your hair, commenting on it so casually like it was nothing, but it had stayed with you for weeks.

Of course, he’d notice a love letter.

And you’d been so careful. Leaving them just where you knew he would find them — near the practice room where he passed by, tucked on the edge of the table in the recording studio. He’d see them. He had to have seen them.

But did he read them?

Your eyes flickered back to the lyrics in your hand.

"Flutter. Like the feeling you get when you read a love letter."

Your fingers tightened around the paper as your heart pounded harder. Did he read them?

And if he did... did he know they were from you?

You put the letter back in its place. He’ll never know.

He’d never know about any of it — not the words you’d carefully written, not the feelings you’d poured into every stroke of your pen, and certainly not about the last letter. The one you never sent.

You had been so sure. So sure. You thought you’d make it into the debut line. Everyone did. That’s why you prepared that final letter — the one that would reveal your identity, the one that would tell him everything. After the announcement, you planned to hand it to him yourself. No more hiding behind anonymous words. No more waiting.

But reality had other plans.

The news hit you like a storm you hadn’t seen coming. They didn’t debut you. They said you were too old to debut.

Too old.

The words echoed in your mind, hollow and cutting. You’d spent years giving everything to this dream, only for it to be reduced to two cold, dismissive words.

They didn’t stop there, though. No, they had another plan. They offered you a contract — not as an idol, but as a producer. The group’s producer. They mentioned how much they liked the song you’d composed during the project and said they wanted to release it as part of the group’s debut album.

But you were too angry to listen. Too hurt to consider it. You walked away.

For a while, you told yourself that walking away was your only option. You told yourself you had every right to be angry, that you’d been wronged. Unfair didn’t even begin to describe it. You’d fought so hard, only to be told that you weren’t enough. It was a wound too deep for logic to mend.

But wounds don’t stay open forever. Time has its way of softening even the sharpest edges.

Eventually, you realized something important — there was nothing you could do to change the past. No amount of anger or regret would make them call your name as part of that debut lineup.

When they reached out to you again, it wasn’t an apology, but it was an offer. A chance.

This time, you considered it. Not for them. Not for their approval. For you.

You accepted the role as the group’s producer.

And with it, you walked into that building again — older, wiser, and stronger than you’d ever been. No longer chasing someone else’s dream, but building your own.

*

Jihoon glanced away from the computer screen as the sound of the door opening caught his attention. His eyes softened at the sight of you walking in, balancing a plastic bag in one hand and a tray of coffees in the other. You’d texted him earlier, saying you’d bring something as a sign of gratitude for his help with the lyrics.

"You really didn’t have to do this," Jihoon said, getting up from his chair and settling on the couch across from you.

"I know," you replied with a grin, pulling out the contents of the bag. Cans of Coke, takeout food, snacks, and the coffees you’d promised. "But Bumzu oppa’s coming later, and I figured it’d be nice to have something for all of us."

Jihoon raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, watching as you neatly arranged everything on the table.

It was time to play the final demo — the one you’d be submitting to the production team. This was the moment that all the effort had been building up to. Jihoon and Bumzu had both contributed to it, so they were eager to give it one last listen.

"Should we play it?" Jihoon asked, looking over at you.

"Already sent it to you," you replied, tapping your phone with a small smile.

Jihoon pulled it up and hit play. The room filled with the melody you’d spent weeks perfecting. He listened intently, his eyes focused but his face honest, reacting naturally to every detail. His nose scrunched up whenever a particularly "cool" part played — a habit you’d noticed over time.

"It's your voice, huh?" he teased, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "It's gonna be tough to direct them to sing it like you."

You laughed, half-embarrassed, half-flattered. "Well, they’ll just have to try their best, won’t they?"

When the song reached its bridge, Jihoon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He nodded along, eyes flickering with something close to pride. "Let me be honest with you," he said as he cracked open a can of Coke, "you’re really good at writing."

Your cheeks warmed as you popped a piece of food into your mouth, trying to downplay your smile. "Coming from an amazing lyricist like you, oppa, that means a lot. Thank you."

Jihoon shook his head, chuckling softly. "No, I’m serious. When you suggested that line — 'tearing all the tears as the ink, they won't be flowing when you’re with me' — I swear, I felt like I was sitting next to Kahlil Gibran."

Your eyes widened in shock, and you immediately waved him off, face flushing. "No way, don’t say that! You’re exaggerating!" you protested, but the laughter that escaped you betrayed how happy the compliment made you feel.

Just then, the door swung open, and Bumzu entered, already bopping his head to the rhythm of the demo still playing. He grinned as his eyes landed on the spread of food on the table.

"Are we having a feast or what?" he asked, rubbing his hands together as he walked in.

"Don’t get too comfortable," Jihoon warned, shaking his head as he took a sip of his Coke.

But Bumzu had other plans. His eyes lit up mischievously as he pulled out his phone. "I’m ordering alcohol!" he declared with far too much enthusiasm.

"You’re not serious," Jihoon sighed, already feeling the weight of the night ahead.

But judging by the grin on Bumzu's face, it was too late to stop him.

Jihoon glanced at you, a resigned smile tugging at his lips. "Looks like it’s gonna be a long day."

"Or a long night," you added with a playful grin, taking another sip of your coffee.

Jihoon sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the empty spot where Bumzu had been just a few minutes ago. That hyung… he thought, his frustration barely contained.

Bumzu had a well-known habit of disappearing whenever he got too drunk. He’d leave behind everything — his wallet, his coat, his phone, sometimes even his shoes — and vanish faster than anyone could react. By the time they noticed, it was too late to call him back. It was almost like a magic trick. But this time, he’d left more than his belongings. He’d left you.

Jihoon glanced over at the studio couch, where you lay sprawled out, humming a familiar tune. It took him a second to recognize it, but then it clicked — it was a song you’d sung during your trainee days. He remembered it vividly because he’d been one of the monitors back then. You’d poured so much heart into that performance, and he could still picture you on that small stage, eyes fierce with determination. Seeing you like this now, eyes hazy and limbs limp, made him feel strangely nostalgic.

“Y/n, you need to go home,” he said, keeping his tone gentle but firm as he pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, searching for someone who might know your address. If he could get ahold of them, he’d call a cab and have them send you home.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumbled, turning your face into the cushions. Your voice was muffled, but the stubbornness was clear.

Jihoon exhaled a soft laugh. It was his first time seeing you drunk, and honestly, it wasn’t too different from how you acted when you were exhausted from practice. Stubborn, a little pouty, but somehow still cute. The only difference now was that you didn’t seem to recognize who was in front of you.

“I already ordered a cab,” he said patiently, crouching down to meet your eye level. “When it gets here, make sure you tell the driver your address, okay?”

You blinked at him, squinting as if trying to identify him through a fog. “Who… are you again?”

Jihoon sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. Here we go again.

“It’s me, Jihoon,” he said, reaching out to pull you into a sitting position. “Come on, let’s head down to the lobby. I’ll find someone to help me get you in the cab.”

You didn’t resist, though your body was like a ragdoll in his hands. Your legs wobbled like jelly, and he had to wrap his arm firmly around your waist to steady you. You leaned into him more than necessary, head resting on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You sound like Jihoon oppa…” you mumbled, voice slurred but still clear enough for him to catch.

Jihoon snorted. “That’s because I am Jihoon.”

You gasped dramatically, pulling back just far enough to look at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “No way! Jihoon oppa’s too busy to be here.” You squinted at him, face scrunched in deep suspicion. “He’s busy. All the time.”

Jihoon shook his head, thoroughly amused. “You know I’m standing right here, right?”

You ignored him completely, eyes distant as if you were lost in your own world. “He’s busy,” you continued softly, like you were talking to yourself. “He’s hardworking. I like him…”

Jihoon froze.

His grip on you stayed firm, but his feet stopped moving.

What did you just say?

He blinked, waiting to see if you’d repeat it.

You didn’t notice. You just kept talking, gaze unfocused, voice as light as a feather drifting in the air. “He’s emotionally intelligent too… His songs are beautiful. Just like his personality.” You sighed dreamily, leaning on him a little more as your eyes fluttered closed. “I like him.”

Jihoon’s heart did something strange — a sharp thud followed by an odd, weightless feeling in his chest.

Did you… just say you like me?

He stared at you, his brain struggling to keep up with what he’d just heard. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn’t even know what to say.

Suddenly, the elevator doors at the end of the hallway slid open, revealing Soonyoung. His wide, curious eyes zeroed in on the sight of Jihoon half-holding, half-carrying you down the hall.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Soonyoung said, stepping out with a dramatic point in Jihoon’s direction. “What is this? You got her drunk? You don’t even drink!”

“Please,” Jihoon muttered, already feeling the headache coming on.

“What happened to her?” Soonyoung asked, stepping closer, his expression twisting with mock suspicion. “Don’t tell me you two—”

“It was Bumzu hyung,” Jihoon cut in, glaring at him. “He disappeared like he always does. Left everything behind, including her.” He adjusted his grip on you, trying to keep you upright.

Soonyoung tilted his head, eyeing you both like he was still trying to piece it all together. Then he grinned, mischief practically radiating from him. “Well, well, well,” he teased, his grin only growing wider. “Need help, Romeo?”

Jihoon shot him a look that could freeze fire. “Don’t start.”

“Fine, fine,” Soonyoung said with a laugh, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’ll help you get her to the cab.”

With Soonyoung’s help, Jihoon managed to get you into the back seat of the cab. The driver asked for your address, but Jihoon glanced at you, still half-asleep, lips barely moving as you mumbled something incoherent.

“I’ll send it to him,” Jihoon said, already pulling out his phone to text the driver the address.

“You sure you don’t want a ride back, Jihoon-ah?” Soonyoung offered, leaning his arm on the open car door. “I can drop you off.”

“Nah,” Jihoon said, still glancing at you as the driver confirmed the address. “I need to walk.”

“Pfft, walk? You sound like an old man,” Soonyoung teased, slapping Jihoon’s back.

“Go home, bye,” Jihoon grumbled, waving him off.

Once the cab drove away, Jihoon stood still for a moment, letting the cool night air wash over him.

I like him.

Her words echoed in his mind, circling like a melody on repeat. He rubbed his hands together slowly, eyes on the sidewalk ahead of him.

He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and started walking, his breath coming out in small clouds in the cold air. No one else was around, and the only sound was the soft crunch of his sneakers on the pavement.

His heart thudded in his chest, steadier now but still louder than usual.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He walked slowly, taking his time. He needed the fresh air, sure. But more than that, he needed time to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.

Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop replaying your voice in his mind.

I like him.

*

The next morning, you sent Jihoon a text.

"Thank you for getting me home safely, oppa."

You didn’t remember much from that night, only flashes of you leaning on someone and the faint scent of his familiar cologne. Since you’d heard Bumzu vanished early as usual, it had to be Jihoon who took care of you. Still, knowing how busy he was, you didn’t expect a reply. Instead, you quickly busied yourself with work, pushing the lingering embarrassment aside.

A few days later, you were knee-deep in packing boxes. You were preparing to move to a new apartment, one closer to the company, which would make commuting easier. With help from a couple of friends, the packing went faster than expected. They chatted and teased you as you sorted through your things.

“Hey, what’s this?” one of your friends asked, reaching for a small, worn-out envelope sitting on the corner of your desk.

Your heart jumped in panic. You rushed over, snatching it before she could take a closer look. “Ah, it’s nothing,” you said quickly, slipping it into your bag.

“Suspicious~” she sang, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“It’s nothing important,” you insisted, shoving it deep into your bag.

Your phone buzzed on the table, drawing you out of your thoughts. It was a message from Jihoon.

"Any update on your latest song?"

You quickly typed a reply.

"Not yet, but I’m sure they’ll accept it soon. They’ve been slow lately."

The production team was notorious for taking their time, so you weren’t too worried. Besides, you were currently caught up in another project with a different artist, and following up with the production team wasn’t your priority.

Just as you were about to put your phone away, another text from Jihoon popped up.

"I want to discuss a song with you. Are you free now?"

You glanced at the mess of boxes around you and snapped a quick photo.

"I’m moving out!"

This time, Jihoon didn’t text back. He called.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the screen. He’s calling me? Jihoon rarely called, even when it was urgent. Curious, you picked up.

“Hello?” you answered.

“You’re moving? To where?” His voice was clear and steady, but there was an undertone of surprise.

You explained your new place, telling him it was just a short walk from the company. It was more convenient and would save you time commuting to work.

“That’s great,” Jihoon said, his tone sounding warmer than usual. “I live around that area too.”

“Really?” you asked, a little surprised.

“Yeah, we’ll be neighbors,” he said with a chuckle.

For some reason, the thought of living close to him made you feel oddly self-conscious.

“By the way,” you added, feeling a bit braver now, “how did you know my address that night? I don’t remember giving it to you. I’m so sorry for the trouble!”

You cringed as you recalled the fuzzy details of that night. The idea of him seeing you in a drunken, messy state made you want to disappear. He doesn't even drink, and I was a whole disaster.

His soft laughter rumbled through the phone, and you felt your face heat up.

“I got it from HR,” he admitted, still chuckling. “I basically terrorized him until he gave it to me since you wouldn’t say a word.”

You gasped in shock, both at his method and at the mental image of Jihoon pestering HR. “You did what?!”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t break any rules… I think,” he teased, his voice laced with mischief. “I had to make sure you got home safely.”

Your chest warmed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you for that,” you said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Jihoon replied, his voice quieter now, like he’d tilted his head against the phone.

After a brief pause, you brought up the song. “About the song you wanted to discuss, I can stop by your studio tonight if that works for you.”

“Not necessary,” Jihoon said firmly. “I should be the one going to your studio. I’m the one asking for help.”

A laugh escaped you. This guy and his principles…

“Alright,” you agreed. “I’ll be at the company around 8. I’ll text you when I’m there.”

“Got it,” he replied. “See you then.”

The call ended, but the lingering warmth from his voice stayed with you. You glanced at the boxes scattered around the room and then at your bag — the one with that letter hidden inside.

*

Jihoon wasn’t sure when it started. At first, it was subtle — small changes that no one, not even he, noticed. It might have been the day you casually explained your creative process to him.

“You do what?” he asked, his brows raised in mild disbelief.

“I create a mind map,” you explained as you scribbled on a large whiteboard, drawing lines to connect scattered concepts and ideas. “Then, I gather samples that match the vibe. It helps me stay focused when I start composing the beat.”

Jihoon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you with quiet fascination. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the logic behind it — it’s just that he’d never bother to do it. He’d always gone straight into producing, trusting his instincts to guide him. But the way you did it… it was methodical yet creative, disciplined yet free.

“There’s always a reason why you’re a genius,” you muttered, focused on sketching another connection on the board.

He blinked, surprised by your words, and then chuckled softly. “You mean because I’m lazy?”

You nodded, grinning at him from behind the whiteboard. “Exactly.”

For some reason, that moment stuck with him.

A week later, Seungkwan walked into Jihoon's studio with a cup of iced Americano for him — only to freeze in shock. Jihoon was standing at the whiteboard. Jihoon. At a whiteboard.

“What… is this?” Seungkwan asked, his eyes squinting like he was seeing an illusion.

“Mind mapping,” Jihoon replied casually, drawing another circle on the board and labeling it "Bridge Vibe — Sentimental, but not cheesy.”

Seungkwan gawked at him. “Who are you? And what have you done to Lee Jihoon?”

Jihoon just smirked and said nothing.

But that wasn’t all. Slowly but surely, the changes started piling up.

One day, Seungcheol walked past Jihoon’s studio and did a double-take. Jihoon was… eating dessert? A strawberry shortcake.

“Jihoon, you good?” Seungcheol asked, leaning on the doorframe, arms folded.

“Hmm?” Jihoon didn’t even glance up, scooping up another bite of cake while scrolling through his phone. “Yeah, why?”

“Dessert. You’re eating dessert.” Seungcheol’s voice was filled with suspicion, like he was trying to uncover a secret mission.

Jihoon raised a brow, slowly lifting his gaze from his phone. “And?”

“And you don’t eat dessert.”

“People change, hyung,” Jihoon muttered, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

“People change, but this much?” Seungcheol muttered to himself as he walked away, still glancing back every few steps like he’d just seen a cat bark.

The biggest shock, however, came when Jihoon suddenly registered for a shooting practice course. Yes, shooting. With a real gun.

Jeonghan was the first to hear about it. “You’re lying,” he deadpanned as he sipped his coffee in the practice room.

“Swear on my solo album,” Seungkwan replied, eyes wide with disbelief. “I’m serious. Jihoon-hyung signed up for it. I even saw the receipt.”

“Why?” Joshua asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Seungkwan exclaimed, waving his arms like a detective on a dramatic reveal. “Jihoon. With a gun. Do you know how dangerous that is for us? He already has that death glare.”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Jeonghan muttered, rubbing his temple. “The quiet ones are the scariest.”

When Jihoon casually walked into practice later, everyone’s eyes were on him. It wasn’t unusual for him to receive attention, but this time it was different. They were looking at him like he was a time bomb.

“What?” Jihoon asked, his eyes darting between them.

“Are you going through something?” Jeonghan asked cautiously, stepping forward like he was about to have a serious intervention.

“Do we need to talk, hyung?” Seungkwan chimed in, his voice filled with the kind of concern, reserve for someone about to shave their head or move to another country.

Jihoon gave them both a blank stare. “No.”

“Then why are you suddenly into guns?”

“Hobby.”

The room went silent.

“Since when do you pick up hobbies?” Seungkwan whispered dramatically.

Jihoon ignored them, walking straight to his spot in the practice room. He put down his bag and pulled out his phone. But as he scrolled, he caught himself smiling. He thought of you showing him how to gather "inspiration" from unusual places. "Do something new. It'll help you create." That’s what you’d told him once. He didn’t think much of it then, but somehow, it got to him.

The changes didn’t stop.

Some days, he’d leave his studio just to walk to a nearby cafe. Normally, he’d stay locked in his workspace for hours, only emerging to grab a quick meal. But these days, he’d grab a coffee, pick up your favorite dessert, and drop it off at your studio.

“Brought you this,” he’d say, setting it down on your desk like it was no big deal.

“Thanks, oppa!” you’d chirp, smiling brightly. He’d linger for a moment, watching you open it with childlike excitement. But before you could say anything else, he’d wave it off like it was no big deal. “Alright, I’m going back.”

It became a routine. Occasionally, he'd sit with you for a bit. Not as a co-producer, but as a friend. He’d watch as you flipped through manhwa on your tablet, eyes focused but relaxed.

“What’s that?” he asked once, tilting his head.

“A new series,” you replied, not even looking away. “You’d like it. It's about a musician who time-travels to fix his regrets.”

Jihoon raised a brow, interest piqued. “Sounds cheesy.”

“It’s not. The writer knows their stuff,” you said, eyes still glued to the screen.

He glanced at it once, intending to leave. But then he sat down. One episode turned into two. Before he knew it, you were both huddled on the couch, scrolling through each new chapter together.

“Next chapter’s locked,” you muttered, annoyed.

“Here,” Jihoon said, tapping his phone. “I’ll unlock it.”

You looked up, wide-eyed. “Oppa, did you just buy coins for a manhwa?”

He blinked, realization dawning on him. “...Yeah.”

The two of you stared at each other. Then, laughter. It echoed in the studio like bells, crisp and light.

“You’re not yourself lately, oppa.” you teased, nudging his side.

He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m not.”

Jihoon didn’t notice stares or whispered theories. He was too busy trying to figure out when he’d started picking up your habits. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but somehow, those little details had wormed their way into his life. The desserts, the manhwa breaks, the habit of sketching ideas before starting a track — they’d all become part of his process.

But it wasn’t just that.

He liked the way your voice sounded when you explained your reasoning for a certain sample choice. He liked how you hummed unconsciously when you were in the zone. He liked that you talked to him as a person, not just as "Woozi"

He... liked you.

But that was a realization he wasn’t quite ready to face yet.

Weeks later, Jihoon found himself staring at you. You were in the recording booth, headphones on, singing one of his demos meant for another female artist. The glow of the studio lights softened your features, and your focused expression drew him in more than it should have. His music engineer called his name, snapping him out of his thoughts, but Jihoon's eyes lingered on you for a moment longer. You glanced up through the glass, catching his gaze, and he quickly looked away, hoping you hadn't noticed.

"Are you okay, oppa? You seem... distracted," your voice crackled through the intercom, gentle but curious.

Jihoon leaned forward, pressing the talk button, masking his flustered state with a calm tone. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired. How about trying that line once more, Y/n?"

You nodded, adjusting your headphones and taking a breath before singing again. Your voice flowed smoothly, each note perfectly placed, your delivery effortless but full of heart. Jihoon leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes locked on you as you sang. It was a flawless take, but his mind wasn’t on the technicalities anymore.

He used to feel nothing but pride when hearing your voice — pride in your technique, your breathing, the way you controlled every note with precision. You’d always had that spark, even as a trainee, and he'd seen it from the beginning. Every time he heard you sing, he'd felt it — pride. Just pride.

But now, there was something more.

His chest felt warmer than it should have. The rise and fall of your voice, the slight quiver at the end of a sustained note, the way your eyes stayed focused on the lyrics in front of you — it all felt personal. Intimate. Like you were singing to him, just him, even though it wasn’t even a love song.

His brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. What is this feeling? It wasn’t pride, at least not the kind he was used to. This was something else entirely, something that crept in without permission. His heart felt oddly light, yet unsteady, like it was tiptoeing on a fragile edge.

He glanced at the music engineer, pretending to focus on the control board. But in reality, his mind was stuck on you — your voice, your presence, and that inexplicable warmth spreading in his chest.

Why do I feel like this?

The song ended. You glanced at him, your head tilted, waiting for feedback. He pressed the button again, his voice coming out steadier than he expected. "That was perfect. Let’s keep that take."

"Okay, oppa." You smiled, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

His heart did something strange. Something unfamiliar.

Fluttering?

No, that couldn’t be it. It shouldn’t be it. But as you removed your headphones, flashing him one last smile before stepping out of the booth, he knew it was too late to deny it.

He wasn't just proud of you anymore.

He was falling for you.

*

You found yourself in a whirlwind of confusion as your phone buzzed non-stop with notifications. At first, you thought it was some group chat chaos, but it didn't take long to realize it was something much bigger. Your social media follower count had shot up drastically, and it wasn’t slowing down. Annoyed but curious, you muted the notifications and scrolled through the mentions.

One message from a friend caught your eye. It was a link to a short clip from the HYBE Producing Camp Documentary — the event you attended a month ago. It had been a major industry event featuring global producers collaborating with HYBE's own producers and idol-composers. You’d thought nothing of it at the time, just another chance to grow and network. But apparently, that one clip of you had gone viral.

"The Pretty Producer of Sheice."

That was the title plastered across multiple posts and video edits. Clips of you talking, working on a beat, or simply smiling in the background had been cut and edited with captions praising your visuals and youthful look. Comments flooded in.

"She’s so pretty, why isn’t she in the group??"

"She looks younger than some of producers."

"Wait, she's a main producer? Are you kidding me? Goals."

You froze. It wasn’t exactly bad attention, but it felt... off. Too much. Too fast. You immediately put your account on private, heart racing as you reviewed your posts. Thankfully, it was all clean — just travel shots, song credits, and random hangouts with friends. Still, it felt like someone had opened a window into your private life without warning.

The teasing started the moment you walked into the studio.

"Ah, look who's here. The Pretty Producer of Sheice has arrived!" Bumzu announced with a grin as soon as you sat down.

You rolled your eyes, unpacking your laptop. "Don’t start, oppa."

"Oh, but why not? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime title. ‘The Pretty Producer of Sheice’ — it even sounds like a K-drama," he teased, leaning in with a playful smirk. "You should print it on your business card."

You tried to brush it off, but the more you ignored him, the worse it got. Bumzu was relentless when he sensed weakness.

"Honestly, if they’d just put you in the group, you’d have been the visual and the main vocal. What a waste, huh?"

That comment hit deeper than he probably intended. Your eyes lowered, fingers fiddling with the corner of your notepad. The words came out before you could stop them.

"I'm sorry… I didn’t debut," you muttered, your voice quieter than usual.

The shift in mood was immediate. Bumzu blinked, his teasing smile fading into surprise.

"Ah… I didn’t mean it like that," he said, his tone full of regret. "I crossed the line. I’m sorry."

You shook your head quickly, your chest tightening. "No, it’s not you. I should’ve worked harder back then."

Bumzu stared at you for a moment, his jaw tensing like he wanted to argue. He let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "That’s not on you. None of that was on you."

You didn’t respond. There wasn’t anything to say. The past was the past, and no amount of "what ifs" would change it. But guilt was a stubborn companion, one that didn’t leave just because someone told it to.

Bumzu glanced toward the door, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the conversation. He wasn’t good with serious moments like this, but he cared. You knew that much.

"I’m heading out for a sec," he muttered, walking toward the hall.

As he opened the door, he nearly bumped into Jihoon, who was holding a plastic bag in one hand and his phone in the other. His eyes darted between Bumzu and the room behind him.

"Oh, hyung? Wanna join us for lunch?" Jihoon raised the bag with a light smile, oblivious to the shift in the atmosphere.

Bumzu put a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder, stopping him. "Don’t go in there yet. Give it ten minutes."

Jihoon tilted his head, confused. "Why?"

"Just… trust me." Bumzu gave him a pat on the back before walking off.

Jihoon frowned, glancing toward the studio door, but he didn’t go in. Instead, he leaned against the wall, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly as he waited. Ten minutes never felt so long.

You pulled your hoodie over your head the moment Jihoon stepped into the studio. Quick and quiet, you shoved the crumpled tissues from the table to the farthest corner, like they could disappear if you just pushed hard enough. You coughed—loud and deliberate—rubbing your nose to sell the act before glancing at him.

"Hey, oppa," you greeted, forcing a casual smile.

Jihoon paused in the doorway, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you. His gaze lingered on your face longer than usual, like he could see through every little move you’d made to hide yourself.

"You caught a cold?" he asked, stepping further in.

You nodded, still rubbing your nose. "Yeah, but don’t worry, it’s not contagious." You tried to sound convincing, but your voice cracked a little at the end.

Jihoon shrugged, pulling out the food he’d brought along. The faint aroma of warm soup and rice filled the room as he set it on the table. "Should’ve told me. I would’ve gotten you some porridge."

He glanced at you once more before unwrapping the utensils, eyes still cautious, still watchful. You knew that look. Jihoon wasn't the type to press you for answers, but he wasn't clueless either.

"What's up with you and Bumzu hyung?" he asked casually, opening the lid of his soup.

"Nothing serious. Just… song stuff," you mumbled, hoping that would be enough.

Jihoon paused, side-eyeing you as he stirred the soup with his spoon. "Hyung told me to wait outside for ten minutes."

Your eyes twitched, knowing exactly where this was going.

"And I waited," he continued flatly, tilting his head toward you. "So, what's wrong?"

You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your hoodie sleeves. It was stupid, you thought. No reason to make a big deal out of it. But Jihoon was still staring at you like he had all day to wait.

"He joked about me debuting with Sheice," you finally admitted, eyes locked on the food in front of you. "It was just a joke, but it kind of… crossed the line, I guess."

Jihoon hummed, lips pursed in thought. "Yeah, I could see how that'd be awkward," he said, nodding slowly.

"It’s not like it really bothers me anymore," you said, more to convince yourself than him. "But sometimes I think… maybe he still feels guilty about it. I don’t want him to think he failed me or something. He did everything he could."

Jihoon set his spoon down and leaned back, his eyes on you again. They weren’t sharp this time, just steady. Calm.

"Do you think he still sees you that way?" Jihoon asked.

"I don’t know." You exhaled slowly, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. "But sometimes, I feel like people still do. Like, they pity me because I didn’t debut. I don't want that." You glanced at him then, something raw in your eyes. "Do you feel sorry for me, oppa?"

Jihoon blinked once, twice, like it was the dumbest question he'd ever heard. He snorted, picking up his spoon again.

"Why would I pity you?" he said simply. "You’re an amazing composer. If anything, I should pity myself for having to compete with you."

That startled a laugh out of you, soft but real. "Compete? With me?"

"Yeah." He raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. "Look at how fast you’ve grown. If we compare how long we’ve both been in the industry, you’re catching up to me too fast."

A grin tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through your chest. "Then, thank you, sunbae," you said with a playful bow, calling him the title of a senior in the industry.

Jihoon waved it off, shaking his head like it physically hurt him. "Don’t do that. Just eat before it gets cold."

You chuckled, grabbing a spoon and opening your own container. The steam hit your face, warm and comforting. You stirred it a little before taking a small sip, sighing at the familiar taste.

"By the way," Jihoon said suddenly, his voice casual but steady. "Debut or no debut, you would’ve been great either way."

You glanced up, caught off guard.

He met your gaze, eyes clear and sure. "You’re too good to be held back by something like that. You're already doing amazing things now."

His words sat in the air for a moment, slow and deliberate, like they were meant to be heard, remembered, and tucked away. Your face felt hot, and it wasn't from the steam rising from the soup.

"Thank you, oppa," you muttered, hiding behind another spoonful of rice.

Jihoon tilted his head, watching you for a second longer before returning to his food. "No need to thank me. Just the truth."

But you kept your head down, eating quietly as your heart thudded a little louder than it should have.

*

Your heart pounded harder with each second, panic settling deep in your chest. You couldn't find it — the letter. The letter that held years of feelings and the one thing you swore you'd never let anyone see.

Your hands tore through your bag for the third time, fingers digging into every pocket, but it wasn’t there. Your breathing quickened. Think. Think. Where did you last have it? Your mind replayed the past few days in flashes.

I put it in my bag, didn’t I?

Your heart felt like it might burst out of your chest. You stood, pacing back and forth in your small apartment before you made a decision. The company. It has to be there.

The moment you stepped into the quiet, dimly lit company building, you felt the weight of the silence pressing on you. It was nearly 3 a.m., the kind of hour where ghosts of mistakes haunted you the loudest. Every creak of your footsteps echoed down the halls as you retraced your daily route. Your eyes scanned the floors like you were searching for a dropped contact lens, desperate for any sign of the letter.

Where could it be?

Panic rose higher. If anyone finds it… You didn’t even want to finish the thought. It wasn’t just your name on that letter. It had his name too.

You stopped walking, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your heart clench. You knew exactly whose name was scrawled inside that letter. Lee Jihoon.

A confession letter. The one you wrote years ago as a trainee but never had the courage to give him. Somehow, instead of throwing it away like a normal, rational person, you kept it like it was some kind of sentimental treasure. A reminder of those fleeting moments when you believed in things like "what if."

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Okay. Think. Where did you take your bag?

Your eyes shot open.

His studio.

Your stomach twisted into a knot. The worst possible place for a lost love letter. If Jihoon found it... No, no, no. Your feet spun you around, and you half-ran, half-speed-walked straight to his studio. The hallway stretched longer than usual, each step filled with growing dread.

Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked.

When you finally arrived, you tried the handle. It didn’t budge. Locked. It meant you couldn’t search, but it also meant he might be the one to find it. You pressed your forehead against the cool metal of the door, closing your eyes as you mumbled, "Why did I have to keep that stupid letter?"

You stayed there for a moment, face buried in your hands. It was too much. If he read it, if he knew you’d been crushing on him for years, you’d never be able to face him again. Forget quitting the company—you'd have to leave the country.

You went home that night but didn’t sleep. Your mind was a constant loop of what ifs and he’s going to find it. You called in sick the next day, and the day after that too. You were too paralyzed with embarrassment to step foot into the company. You lay in bed, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, hoping, praying that no one would text you with "OMG, did you write this?" or "You dropped something important, lol."

But there was silence. No texts from Jihoon. No invites for lunch. No coffee requests. No random desserts dropped off at your studio.

That’s not like him.

Your heart sank.

Was he avoiding you? Did he already find it?

You buried your face in a pillow, letting out a groan so loud it echoed in your small apartment. Why am I like this? You scolded yourself, biting your lip as you tried not to spiral further.

You should’ve burned it. The day they told you that you wouldn’t debut, you should’ve set it on fire and watched it turn to ash. But no, you kept it like a fool, like a keepsake of dreams that were never meant to be.

Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and let your mind drift to the past, to the day you met Lee Jihoon for the first time.

He wasn’t like the other producers. Everyone knew him as the genius behind Seventeen’s hits, but he didn’t carry himself like someone with that much success. He was humble. He'd visit the trainees during evaluations and offer advice, not just on vocals but on mental strength too. "Don’t be too hard on yourself. Progress isn’t always fast, but it’s still progress," he’d said once, looking right at you.

You remembered that moment too vividly. His eyes were sharp but kind, his tone firm but gentle. He never talked down to any of you, never made anyone feel small. He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t owe anyone his time. But he did it anyway.

That’s when it started, you realized. That’s when I started falling for him.

You had tried to crush it—tried to leave it behind when you left the trainee life. But love, it seemed, was a stubborn thing. It stayed with you. It followed you into every recording session, every lunch break where he'd pop in with a "What are you eating today?" It lingered in every glance you stole at him when he got too caught up in work to notice anyone else was watching.

And now, after all that, he might know.

You let out another groan, curling into a ball on your bed. Please, please, please, don't let him find it. Don't let him know.

But as you lay there, face buried in the blanket, your phone buzzed. You ignored it at first, too emotionally exhausted to care. It buzzed again. You reached out, grabbed it, and squinted at the screen.

It was from Jihoon.

"You feeling better?"

Your heart stopped for a beat. Then, it kicked up double-time.

Is he asking just because I haven’t been in? you wondered. Or is this about the letter?

You stared at the message like it might explode. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, second-guessing every response you could possibly send. Should you pretend nothing was wrong? Should you ask him directly?

Finally, you typed back,

"Yeah, just needed a break. Thanks for checking in."

Your eyes stayed locked on the screen, waiting, dreading, hoping he wouldn’t bring it up. But seconds later, his reply popped up.

"Okay. Come eat with me tomorrow."

Your heart jumped. Does that mean he didn’t find it?

Or worse—did it mean he did find it and was waiting for you to confess?

You flopped back onto the bed, phone on your chest, staring blankly at the ceiling. No sleep for you tonight, that was for sure.

*

“I saw it.”

Jihoon’s words hit you like a bolt of lightning. You froze, your body stiffening as you sat on the couch. Your eyes darted to him, heart thudding so loud it echoed in your ears. He saw it?

“Y-You did?!” you blurted, sitting up so fast you nearly gave him a heart attack. His eyes widened in surprise at your sudden outburst. He hadn’t expected that kind of reaction from you.

Jihoon watched you with mild confusion as you rubbed your face aggressively, letting out a muffled groan that sounded oddly like a character from an anime. Your face was flushed, a deep red spreading across your cheeks, and you refused to meet his eyes.

"You okay? You look kinda… flustered," he asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes scanning you like you might be running a fever.

You sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly shouted, "I am!" Your hands shot into the air in a dramatic fist-pumping motion.

He blinked at you, entirely thrown off by your antics.

"When did you see it?" you asked in a rush, your voice laced with nerves.

"This morning," he replied casually, watching for your reaction.

You groaned like the world was crumbling around you, burying your face in your hands as you muttered something incoherent. Your words came out so fast and garbled that he could barely understand you. It was like you were speaking in fast-forward while trying to sink into the couch cushions to disappear.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered, peeking out from behind your hands, only to bury yourself back in. "I have no courage to face you. I should've burned it. I should've burned it."

Jihoon blinked in confusion, tilting his head. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

You lifted your head, your eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief. “Don’t act like you don’t know! You saw it! I sent you so many letters before! How could you tell me not to worry after you saw it?!”

“…Letters?” Jihoon leaned back, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. His head tilted as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

He was about to mention your viraled video from the producing camp month ago. He saw it this morning.

"Yes, the letters!" you said, your voice higher than usual. "The ones I used to leave near the bathroom! I sent them for you, Jihoon! For you!"

His eyes squinted as if his brain had finally caught up. Slowly, his eyes widened. "Wait. You were the one sending those letters?"

You didn’t answer, but the silence was all he needed. His gaze shifted to his desk, and then, like a lightbulb switching on, his expression changed. His eyes darted to the small box on his shelf—the one filled with old, unopened envelopes he’d kept for years.

“These?” he asked, walking to the desk and pulling out the box. He lifted it, glancing between you and the letters as realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Your eyes widened in horror, your breath caught in your throat. "You kept them?!"

He turned toward you, his lips twitching with something between shock and disbelief. “You mean… these letters were from you?” He opened the box, pulling out one of the older letters, his fingers carefully brushing over the familiar handwriting. He could almost hear your voice in his head now, realizing that the tone of the letters, the way certain phrases were written—it was you. It had always been you.

Jihoon looked back at you, his voice soft with wonder. “All this time… you were the one sending these?”

You buried your face in your hands, your whole body curling into the couch like a ball. Your ears burned red, and you muttered, “Yes, yes, it was me, okay? I’m sorry. I was young and stupid. I thought it was cute back then.” Your voice cracked with embarrassment. “I thought I could be bold through paper, but I couldn’t say a single thing to your face.”

Jihoon blinked, his gaze softening as he stared at you. Her? he thought to himself. All those letters he used to read when he was exhausted, those kind words that gave him strength when he was burnt out. The sender was you. You.

He placed the box on the table and picked up the envelope you'd pulled from under the couch earlier—the one that had started this whole mess, when you realized he wasn't talking about the letter then you had searched for it around his studio. His fingers moved to open it, his eyes darting to you for permission.

You saw his intent and bolted upright. "Wait, don't read that one!" You reached for it, but he quickly lifted it out of reach, his eyes narrowing playfully.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement now.

"Because!" you yelled, grabbing for it as he lifted it higher. "It's different from the others! Just give it back!"

"Different how?" he teased, still holding it above his head like he was holding candy away from a child. “More heartfelt? More honest?”

“Oppa!” you pleaded, standing on your toes, your hands gripping his arm in desperation.

But it was too late. He had already opened the envelope and pulled out the neatly folded letter. His eyes scanned the page, his playful smirk slowly disappearing with each line he read. His lips parted as his eyes moved slowly across the words, soaking in every single confession, every single feeling you'd buried in the ink.

I’ve liked you since the first day I saw you. I’ve tried to stop, I really did, but you kept being kind. You kept being you.

His heart pounded. His fingers tightened around the paper. His throat felt dry.

If you’re reading this, I’m either braver than I’ve ever been or the most cowardly I’ve ever felt. Because I never had the courage to tell you to your face. So this letter is my last attempt. I’m sorry it took me so long.

Jihoon swallowed the lump in his throat. His heart felt too big for his chest, like it might burst from the sheer weight of what he’d just read.

He looked at you. You stood there, eyes squeezed shut, looking like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. You were biting your lip, your face still stained red with embarrassment.

"All this time…” he whispered, his eyes never leaving you. “You’ve liked me since then?"

You didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. You just stood there, eyes squeezed shut like a kid waiting for the storm to pass.

“Do you still like me now?” he asked softly, stepping toward you. His voice was so gentle it barely registered at first. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t mocking. It was… sincere.

Your eyes slowly opened, and you looked up at him, lips parting in surprise.

He took another step toward you, now close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence. His eyes searched yours for an answer. “Do you still like me?”

You bit your lip, eyes darting to the side. You’d come this far—might as well jump off the cliff now.

“…Yes,” you whispered. Your eyes flickered back to him like you were bracing for rejection. “I still do.”

For a second, neither of you moved. Silence hung in the air, heavy but not uncomfortable. Jihoon’s gaze softened, his lips tugging into a small, thoughtful smile.

"You're such an idiot," he said with a small laugh, his eyes crinkling with warmth.

Your heart stopped. "Excuse me?!"

"I mean, you could’ve just told me," he said, taking another step forward, so close you had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “You think I’m scary or something?”

“Back then, yes!” you blurted, cheeks heating up. “You are Woozi of Seventeen! You were the genius idol-producer. Who was I supposed to be?”

His eyes searched yours like he was seeing you for the first time. “You were you,” he said, his voice so soft it made your breath hitch. His gaze flickered to your lips for a second, then back to your eyes. “And you’re still you.”

He lifted the letter slightly. "Do you want me to burn this?"

You nodded weakly, still not trusting yourself to speak.

"Too bad," he said, tucking it into his pocket.

"Hey—!"

"I’m keeping it," he said firmly, his eyes locking on yours. "I’m keeping all of them."

This time, it was Jihoon’s face that turned a little red. His gaze dropped, but his smile lingered.

“Call it my treasure.”

*

The recording studio buzzed with quiet excitement as the final track of Seventeen’s upcoming album played through the speakers. It was a masterpiece—a blend of styles and sounds that showcased every member’s unique color. But there was something else everyone noticed.

Your name.

There it was, listed as a contributor on almost every track. It wasn’t the first time you’d worked on Seventeen’s albums, but this was different. Your involvement was undeniable, and the members couldn’t resist poking fun at Jihoon for it.

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, his grin wide as ever. “Looks like you don’t need Bumzu hyung anymore, huh?” His voice was full of mischief, his eyes locked on Jihoon.

“I need him!” Jihoon shot back, sitting up straight, his eyes darting toward Bumzu as if to prove his point. “Don’t twist it, Mingyu.”

But it was too late. That one comment had already ignited a chain reaction.

“Yeah, right,” Seungkwan snorted from across the room, his legs kicked up on the armrest of the couch. “Hyung’s been acting brand new ever since she started showing up in the credits.” He made air quotes around she as if it wasn’t already clear who he meant.

“Next thing you know, Jihoon will start writing love songs,” Joshua teased, his smile too innocent to be trustworthy.

“Check the tracklist,” Jeonghan chimed in, scrolling on his phone with a knowing smirk. “He already did.”

The room erupted into laughter. Even Seokmin, who was trying to stay professional, ended up doubling over, clutching his stomach.

Jihoon’s ears turned red almost instantly, and he pressed his back against the couch, arms crossed, sinking as low as possible. “Y’all are so annoying.”

“Oh, we’re annoying?” Soonyoung cackled, standing up to point an accusatory finger at him. “You’ve been humming that one hook for weeks, and I thought it was just some random melody. But nope! Turns out it’s a love letter disguised as a chorus!”

“Shut up.” Jihoon threw a pillow at him, but Soonyoung dodged it with ease, his laughter only getting louder.

Mingyu, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands like he was about to spill some tea. “I mean, it makes sense now. Y’know, after that news.”

Everyone knew exactly what that was.

It had been months since Soonyoung made his now-infamous declaration in their group chat. He sent a long written-text claimed it by TigerNews, complete with a dramatic “🔥BREAKING NEWS🔥” articles in their group chat.

Soonyoung had 'officially announced' the relationship with a fake headline that read, 'Seventeen’s Woozi and Rising Producer Y/N Confirm Relationship in Exclusive Interview with TigerNews' — complete with dramatic quotes and a grainy, zoomed-in photo of you two at the company cafe.

The chat had gone wild. Memes were shared. Jokes were made. No one was spared.

“Congratulations, Romeo and Juliet!”

Minghao had typed with so many heart emojis it made the whole chat lag.

“Don’t embarrass them, hyung.”

Seungkwan had written right after, only to follow up with,

“Actually, never mind. EMBARRASS THEM.”

Needless to say, the teasing had been relentless ever since.

“Honestly,” Jeonghan drawled, flipping his phone like it was nothing, “this whole time, I was suspicious. My detective work was getting exhausting.”

“Detective work?” Seokmin scoffed. “You were just being nosy.”

“And I was right,” Jeonghan fired back, tossing a gummy bear into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

Back in the present, Bumzu leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his eyes locked on Jihoon. Unlike the others, his teasing had a sharper edge. "He actually does need me," Bumzu said with a grin so sly it could cut glass.

“See?” Jihoon pointed at him like Bumzu was his last lifeline. “Exactly!”

But Bumzu wasn’t done. “He needs me to make sure he keeps his hands to himself.”

The entire room went silent for half a second before absolute chaos broke loose. Seungkwan’s scream echoed like an airhorn. Mingyu banged on the table, his laughter so loud it could be heard in the hallway. Soonyoung was on the floor, rolling around like he’d just seen the funniest thing of his life.

“NOOOO—!” Jihoon’s face burned bright red, his hands flying up to cover his eyes. He sank so low into the couch it looked like he was trying to disappear into the cushions. "I'M LEAVING!" he declared, attempting to get up, but Mingyu shoved him back down.

“Stay right there, hyung.” Mingyu grinned like a cat that just cornered a mouse. “We’re not done.”

Jeonghan leaned in, his eyes practically glittering with mischief. “So tell me, Jihoon, how long have you been ‘needing’ Bumzu hyung's supervision?”

“SHUT. UP.” Jihoon threw his second pillow, but Jeonghan caught it with one hand like it was nothing.

“Ohoho, look at him!” Seokmin gasped, pointing like he’d seen a rare species in the wild. “Look at his face! Redder than a cherry!”

Bumzu leaned forward, his grin widening. “You know, if you just admitted it, they’d probably leave you alone.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Jihoon shot back, glaring at him with the intensity of a supernova.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bumzu laughed, tossing a piece of candy into his mouth. “But it’s still funny.”

For the next few minutes, the teasing didn’t let up. Everyone had something to say, whether it was about your name in the credits or Jihoon’s ‘secret’ love songs. They teased him about how much you were in his head, how his melodies were sounding “suspiciously romantic” lately, and how even his synth choices had more "color" than before.

Jihoon sat there, his face a permanent shade of red, trying not to combust. He leaned back against the couch, tilting his head up toward the ceiling, eyes closed like he was begging the universe to end his suffering.

"How am I supposed to survive this in the future?" he muttered to himself.

Bumzu clapped him on the shoulder, his grin far too wide. "Oh, buddy, this is just the beginning."

"Please stop," Jihoon groaned. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Nah,” Bumzu said, shaking his head. “I’m on her side now.”

The room burst into chaos once again, and Jihoon could only bury his face in his hands, wondering how he’d survive the next album.

The end.

[gabessquishytum]

Feeling very annoyed about my joint pain right now so what better way to deal with it than projecting my problems onto Dream?

So Dream is hypermobile, and he's been dating Hob for a little while. With Hob, he doesn't feel like he complains too much, he doesn't feel like he's a burden. He doesn't feel like he has to hide the pain and frustration he has to deal with because of his body. As a child he was often told that he was faking injury to get out of doing things he didn't want to do. Often he was told just to exercise more. As he got older, he was told that he was giving up on himself and that he should just push though the pain (despite the fact that when you're hypermobile, sometimes pushing though the pain now means needing joint replacements in the future). But with Hob, his problems are always taken seriously, his pain is believed and he's never infantilized for it. Hob isn't disgusted by his body doing weird things, his reaction to Dream hyperextending something on purpose isn't "put that away that's gross" it's "you'll regret that tomorrow"

Dream has definitely subluxed his jaw while giving Hob blow jobs before. After, because you know Dream wouldn't stop sex for something as trivial as a subluxation, Hob heats up a rice bag and massages Dream's face.

On his bad days, sometimes Hob will stay home from work just to comfort and be there for him. It's care like he's known from no other person ever in his life and he almost certainly cries about how lucky he is (usually in Hob's arms) at least once a week

Idk where exactly I'm going with this. But I'm just spinning the concept of hypermobile!Dream getting comfort and acceptance from Hob in my head. Just Dream getting the comfort I wish I had in my life.

Oh anon, joint pain is so horrible. I'm sorry you're going through it. I'm also in the hypermobile club, so I feel you. I really do.

Dream finds it hard to accept that this will be his life forever, you know? There's no cure for his condition, only management. He spent a lot of time pretending that there was nothing wrong, and ended up hurting himself. He has so many regrets... but knowing that he also gets to spend the rest of his life with Hob makes it almost bearable. Hob has slowly adjusted their shared home to be hypermobile-friendly, putting in all the accommodations that Dream has denied himself over the years: a bath chair, perching stools in the kitchen, banisters on the staircases, even a wedge for their bed so Dream can prop himself up when he's feeling bad enough to be bedbound.

Hob knows Dream’s body better than his own. When Dream hyperextends his knees, Hob is the one to notice and give him a gentle nudge. When he's standing and hanging off his joints and straining them, Hob grabs him a chair so he can sit down instead. When he needs his ring splints, it's usually Hob who fetches and puts them on for him. Dream often feels like a burden, but Hob tries to explain that all of these things aren't chores for him. They're just intuitive, easy acts of love. Hob WANTS to be Dream’s support.

Sex is a lot easier with Hob than it ever was with past partners. There's k-tape and splints and joint braces, which Hob treats with the same reverence he'd usually save for lingerie. Dream, naked, clad only in wrist splints and k-tape, is the most beautiful thing in the world to Hob. Cause he knows that Dream isn't going to get hurt while they make wild and glorious love.

They've definitely had wheelchair sex. Hob has knelt between Dream’s slightly spread legs and sucked his cock. Fortunately the brakes were on, or Dream might have gone rolling across the room from the force of his orgasm. Hob is very good with his mouth.

All in all: life is really really hard, but it's also good. And Hob makes it all worth it by being there and being himself. Dream couldn't love him any more if he tried.

[cloudyyoimiya]

yandere poe headcanons with a reader who knows how to knit and so they knitted Karl a little hat or something ( I badly want this for some odd reason)

this is so sweet?? i hope you don’t mind me throwing in a scenario bc this is absolutely adorable?? thank you for requesting!!

His Darling Knits Something for Karl; Edgar Allan Poe

Format: Headcanons and scenario

Possible warnings: dark content, unhealthy relationships, mentions of kidnapping

How you learned to knit could be the result of two things. One being that you already knew how to knit before Poe kidnapped you, and two being that you learned to knit because you had a lot of time to kill while being held captive.

When Poe found out that you were able to knit, he’d enable your little hobby. He’d make sure to buy you top quality yarn and sturdy needles, only wanting the best for you. In a way it was a kind gesture, but it never really helped you put your guard down around him.

Sometimes when he spent time with you, he’d just sit in silence as he’d watch you knit. He really liked watching your hands create something, even if it was something small.

Unknown to him though, in secret you would make small accessories for Karl. At first it only started off as a small little scarf because you were running out of a certain yarn you liked, but then it evolved into making him small hats and little sweaters.

More often than not Karl would sit on your lap as you knitted him something. Sometimes he’d get in the way, but you didn’t mind. He was almost like a very cuddly cat as you knitted him his accessories. Maybe he enjoyed feeling like a spoiled little model?

You would hide the things you made for Karl under a loose floorboard that was in the corner of a room that Poe rarely entered. For the longest time, that was your little secret between you and the raccoon.

But then Poe started to notice that your yarn supply slowly started to disappear. At first he thought it was because you had a large project that you were hiding, but he found out that wasn’t the case rather quickly. He then started to think that Karl would steal the yarn, but he knew that the raccoon wouldn’t do something like that.

Eventually he decided to walk in on you while you were alone. That way it wouldn’t allow you to hide whatever you’re doing, and you’d be forced to show him. Of course he felt bad doing this, but he was concerned and genuinely curious as to what you were up to.

When he did find out what you were up to, he couldn’t be more in awe. He thought that what you were doing for Karl was absolutely adorable! How could he not?

Maybe, just maybe, he’d put in small requests for Karl. He knows the raccoon better than anyone, so he’s sure that he knows what he wants.

Scenario

Humming a light tune, you finally tied off a loose end on the hat you were making. The color of the yarn you used was almost a navy blue, and it had some white accents as well. It was also rather small—no human could obviously wear it—but that wasn’t your intention for the hat anyways.

You looked down at the raccoon that was sitting on your lap, letting out small chitters as he watched you work your magic. Karl looked up at you with a content expression if that was even possible for a raccoon.

“Here. It’s all finished,” you said as you placed the hat on Karl’s head. “Do you like it?”

Karl let out a happy chitter as he somehow managed to adjust the hat on his head. You then smiled down at him and gently pulled his ears through the tiny holes you made sure to put in the hat. Once you did that, you let out an amused chuckle at how cute the raccoon was.

Recently the two of you had became close friends, and Karl had made sure that you weren’t lonely while left on your own devices. Part of you thought that it was because Karl was sent to spy on you by Poe, but the other part of you liked it because you wouldn’t be so alone anymore.

You continued to adjust his hat until you heard the door open. Immediately you jumped in your seat and shot your gaze towards who was in the door frame. Unsurprisingly, it was your captor—Poe. He stared at you for a few moments, then started to smile as he saw Karl in a small hat.

“Did you make that for him?” He asked quietly. He then sat down next to you on the couch and started to pet Karl. “He seems to like it. I didn’t know you made him things…”

You gulped, then started to speak in a shaky voice. “Well yeah… I get bored of making normal stuff so I decided to make him some accessories.”

“You made more?” Poe asked after he analyzed your choice of working. “May I see?”

You only nodded then lightly pushed Karl to your side. He let out a sad chitter, but then he jumped up onto Poe’s shoulders as per usual. You then got up from your seat and headed over to a floorboard that was hidden under some carpet.

“In here there’s more,” you said as you ripped up the floorboard. You then started to pull out a small box. “Take a look.”

Poe nodded then opened the box. Once he did, his grin started to grow even wider as he pulled out the little accessories you made for Karl. The expression on his face told you that you were able to relax—he wasn’t mad at you for making these things and hiding them from him.

“These are adorable,” Poe simply spoke as he continued to rummage through the box. “Where did you find the time to make all of these?”

You bit your tongue so you didn’t say something that you’d regret. “Y’know… I have a lot of free time now since I don’t have to work anymore.”

Poe nodded. “Oh my darling, these are so thoughtful of you to make! I love them so much!” He then paused and looked at you. “Why did you feel the need to hide these from me though?”

You bit your tongue once more, holding back another insulting response. “I didn’t know how you’d react, Poe— Edgar.”

“Oh dear… There’s no need to hide anything from me,” he said with a smile. “You can tell me anything.”

You internally rolled your eyes. You knew that some things you wanted to say were best kept in your mind, and you’d rather keep it that way.

“Alright, I understand.”

Poe then walked over towards you and gave you a small kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad… I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, trying to not gag at your own words. You knew it was best to comply when he said those three words.

Poe stayed silent for a moment, then looked at the clothes you made for Karl. “Can you make him a small sweater? …Can you make me a sweater as well?”

You let out a small sigh. “Yes, of course.”

[errythinisblue]

Baby steps.

Ruben Loftus Cheek x Y/N

Summary: You and Ruben have been friend from quite a long time, what if some feelings change betweenthe two of you?

Warnings: SMUT. (Oh and it’s awfully long, I’m sorry! Blame it on John Legend’s song!)

gif credits to @mercedesjpg

“Hey, wait for me!” you heard Ruben shout, as he jogged towards you in the parking lot.

“Jeez Rubes!” you jumped out of your skin, immediately turning to face him, “I swear you’re gonna give me a heart attack sooner or later!”

“My bad, it wasn’t intentional…” he sheepishly said as he came to a halt, standing in front of you, or better towering over you, “It’s just, I haven’t seen you all day and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” he admitted, as he looked strangely nervous while he adjusted his sports bag on his shoulder.

His words made your heart flip, but you quickly tried to dismiss the feeling. It wasn’t unusual for Ruben to show how much he cared for you, as a friend of course, so why were you reacting like this now?

Surely, you two grew pretty close right from your very first day here at Cobham. That was almost two years ago, and you could easily say that he was the closest friend you had in your workplace ever since, meaning that during all this time he saw you at your highest, and even at your lowest. But that was it, you were friends and nothing more.

Yet, something changed in the way you looked at him and it’s been like this for a while.

“I am,” you told him, sighing, “it’s been a long day… nothing a couple glasses of wine can’t fix though…”

“That bad?” he chuckled as he walked by your side as you approached your cars.

“Yep. For a second, I was afraid today was never gonna end, I swear!” his laugh was adorable, and oh so infectious that it had you smiling in a heartbeat, “I had a lot of projects to work on, and the hours seemed to go by so slowly! I’m exhausted.” you groaned.

“I can see that…” he whispered in your ear, bumping his arm against yours, “…you definitely look the part!”

“Why thank you sir!” you faked being shocked for a second, stopping in your tracks as you crossed your arms, “Way to add insult to injury!”

“Okay okay, I’m sorry, I was joking!” he giggled as he raised his hands in the air in surrender.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling merciful,” you told him as you playfully rolled your eyes, “I’m gonna let you off the hook this time.” you added as you smiled at him.

“Damn, I really am lucky!” he chuckled as his dark brown eyes stared into yours just that little bit longer than usual; his stare so intense it burnt straight into you, right before he lowered it to the ground. “Uhm, anyway, I wanted to see you because I needed to ask you something…”

You loved this never ending, playful bickering between the two of you, but this time something was different. Ruben seemed different, and you didn’t know if he actually was or if you were so tired you were seeing things that didn’t exist.

“Well, take advantage of the mercy I’m showing you and ask away!”

Ruben’s heart picked up its pace as he looked into your eyes, the way they shone in the sunset light was making him unable to think straight. After almost two years of pining over you he finally worked up the courage to ask you out, but now that he was standing right in front of you the only thing he wanted to do was kiss you. In his mind, it was the easiest way to show you his feelings, but it took everything in him not to do so as he wanted to do everything right.

“You know it’s match day tomorrow so I’m not really allowed to do anything crazy,” he started, “but since we didn’t have the chance to see each other today, I was thinking you could come to mine… we could watch a movie and eat something together, like we always do… we could, like, make up for lost time if you want to…” he almost stuttered as he waited for your answer.

“Are you asking me on a date??” you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him a little even this time. Your game quickly backfired though, as you didn’t expect him to answer the way he did.

“Well… it’s a date, if you want it to be.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, before it started hammering again.

Was he for real? He must be, you thought as you snapped out of your trance-like state. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, not after he knew how badly things ended up with your ex a little over a year ago. He knew how bad that break up was for you, that’s when he saw you at your lowest indeed.

And that’s the reason why you knew you could trust him. You trusted him with your life by now, so you decided to trust him even more with this “date” thing and give him a chance.

“Baby steps Rubes,” you softly smiled at him, before you stood on your toes to press a kiss on his cheek, “but I’ll be there at 7. It’s a date.”

-

As he finished preparing some snacks and drinks on the coffee table, without forgetting a bottle of red wine and two glasses, Ruben heard the doorbell ring.

“Hey, you’re here…” Ruben greeted you with a hug as soon as he opened the door.

“Hey,” you relished in the feeling of warmth radiating from his body, humming as you inhaled his already familiar scent, “I’m sorry I’m a little late but I stopped on my way here to buy some cupcakes, you know-”

“I know what you like to have after a long day at work… alcohol and something sweet, I know.” he chuckled as he moved to the side to let you in, “Give them to me, I’m gonna put them in the kitchen while you make yourself at home.”

“Such a gentleman!” you joked as you gave him the cupcakes, right before you hung your coat on the coat rack and left your shoes by the door.

“I’m always a gentleman.” Ruben answered you as he saw you approaching him in the kitchen, “The sweater you’re wearing kinda proves my point.” he said as he pointed at your top.

“True.” you smiled, blushing under his gaze. You watched his eyes move up and down your body: you wore black leggings, white Nike socks and one of the many Adidas hoodies you borrowed from him but never returned, “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“We should definitely start with cooking something for dinner,” he said as he leaned his lower back against the counter, “do you fancy anything in particular?”

“What are you gonna eat?” you asked him, perfectly aware of the strict diet he was supposed to be on before a game; but asking him questions was a good enough distraction from your thoughts: he looked good enough to eat with a pair of black Adidas shorts and a matching sweater that hugged his body in the most perfect way.

“No carbs for me tonight,” he shrugged, “I’m gonna have some meat and veggies but I can cook anything you’d like.”

“I’m okay with meat and veggies too,” you stopped him, “it’s okay really, don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” you assured him as you walked to the fridge right behind him, trying not to drool over his broad back too much, “Rubes where’s-”

“The wine’s on the coffee table…” he winked at you after he saw you examine every surface of his kitchen out of the corner of his eye.

“Is it that easy to read my mind?!” you exclaimed as you immediately made your way to the living area, making Ruben laugh at your antics.

-

A delicious dinner and a few glasses of wine later, it was finally time for the movie to start.

“What is this??” Ruben whined, already starting to regret his decision to let you choose what you were going to watch.

“Don’t judge me.” you pointed your finger at him, “I love ‘Think like a man’! And since it’s one of my comfort movies we’re gonna watch this. End of discussion.”

“Okay okay,” he started the movie as he moved closer to you on his sofa, “Let’s see what this is about…” he said before he grabbed some popcorn from the bowl you were so jealously guarding on your legs.

“Hey!” you protested, “These are for me!”

“Who said that??”

“You said that,” you pouted, “You told me you prepared all of this for me!”

“So what if I want some?”

“Oh now you want some??” you smirked, grabbing a handful of popcorn and placing it directly over his mouth, “Then have some!”

Ruben couldn’t laugh even if he wanted to as his mouth was so full with popcorn he couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t help but laugh at him as you looked at the faces he was pulling. The fear of the date disappeared, as in his eyes you could see he was the same Ruben as always, nothing had changed. And the fact that you were acting like the dorks you’ve always been was a pretty big proof of that.

“You know the movie’s playing right?” he asked you, once he could speak again. He was looking straight in front of him, his eyes fixed on the screen; but then he took the chance to steal a glance at you all the same.

“I know, you smartass.”

“Then why are you still looking at me?” he smirked.

“I just want to make sure you’re enjoying the movie.”

“I’m enjoying something else at the moment..” he took your hand in his as he looked at you, and you instinctively scooted closer to him.

“And what is it?”

“I’m enjoying your company.” he simply stated.

“Are you?” you were almost out of air, but your face inched closer to Ruben’s all the same, until you could feel his breath against your lips.

“I am, but what about baby steps?”

“A kiss is a risk I’m willing to take…” you smiled before you pressed your mouth against his, while his arm circled your waist as your lips moulded together.

When you parted your lips from Ruben’s, he pecked your cheek sweetly.

“Perfect.” you murmured against his lips, “I had my dose of alcohol and now I had something sweet too…”

“You’re so cheesy!” Ruben laughed out loud, as his pearly whites and the dimples on his cheeks were on full display, and you couldn’t help but be enchanted by them. He then wrapped his right arm around your shoulders, “Come on, let's watch this movie now…” he added, holding you tightly against his toned body and letting his left hand rest on your thigh.

You didn’t know if it was because of the wine, because you finally had a taste of him, or because of the movie’s soundtrack; but being this close to Ruben in that moment was making your head spin.

Sure enough, John Legend’s song “Tonight” was playing in your favourite movie scene, and God only knows how many times that song made you think about Ruben in the dirtiest of ways. That must have been the reason why you were feeling restless, and like you were short of breath.

Ruben noticed you shifting, and held you closer, trying to mask the fact that he too was on fire on the inside. He turned his head to peck your head that was resting on his shoulder, but as he slowly did so you raised your head to look at him.

“Uhm, do you like the movie then?” you asked as you cleared your throat.

“Yeah, yeah I do…” he said as he couldn’t decide whether to look at your lips or in your eyes, those eyes that looked darker all of a sudden.

“Great…” you breathed, licking your lips afterwards, “I’m happy you like it…” you continued before you pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his skin just that little bit longer.

But as soon as your lips detached from his bearded cheek, Ruben slowly turned around to look at you. His eyes were fixed on your mouth, and yours were doing the same as his full lips were calling you in, inviting you to have a taste once again.

It only took another look in your eyes, before the hand on your thigh tightened its hold, betraying his feelings right before he kissed you this time. His kiss was slow, he was savouring you, testing the waters. But he was always paying attention to you and your body language. He wanted tonight to be perfect, and if “baby steps” was what you wanted, he would gladly give you that.

“Is this okay?” he asked you as his left hand moved to the side of your neck, while his right one was on your left hip.

You didn’t answer his question, you just nodded your head as your mind was too clouded by your lusty thoughts. The fact that he was the one kissing you this time gave you the little extra courage you’d need to kiss him back and deepen the kiss.

Ruben was taken aback by your actions, his mouth agape as he watched how you straddled his hips.

His hands immediately went to your waist as your mouth found his once again. A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt his grip on you strengthen, and you rolled your hips over his out of instinct.

“Fuck Y/N…” Ruben panted as he grabbed your face in his hands, he looked straight into your eyes as he tried to distract himself from the situation that was making his shorts tighten dangerously “…what about baby steps?” he asked you as his thumbs stroked your flushed cheeks.

“I want you Rubes…” you whimpered, already feeling him getting hard under you.

“I want you too,” he said, shutting his eyes tightly as your lips kissed the side of his broad neck, “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this…”

“I was wrong, I don’t want baby steps… not with you.” your voice came out as a whisper as you looked into his brown orbs; he relaxed under your touch as you ran your hands on his chest, and around his neck, “I want everything with you, I want you, all of you…”

“Are you sure about this? I’ll never let you go once I make you mine…” Ruben’s voice was deeper than usual, so deep it had your willpower crumble completely, it was then you were sure you would have done whatever this man wanted you to do.

“Good. Because I don’t want you to.” you said as you stood from his lap, sliding your leggings down your legs and leaving your body in just a matching Calvin Klein set.

“Come here.” he rasped as he grabbed you by the back of your thighs and pulled you down to straddle him again. His lips found yours in the blink of an eye, like he kissed you for his whole life and not just for the third time that night. But this time his kiss was hungry, he was hungry for you. This time he didn’t stop the roll of your hips, quite the opposite as he helped it with his hands.

The warmth radiating from his touch made you shiver; and seeing the effect his touch had on you only spurred Ruben on, so his hands slowly travelled up to your breast. His touch was soft over your bra, so delicate yet so possessive it had your head roll back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful babe…” Ruben said as he looked at you on top of him, “So fucking beautiful.”

“Babe?” you smiled down at him, “Pet names already? ‘What about baby steps?’” you asked, mocking him.

“I think we already threw them out of the window.” he smirked at you, as his thumbs stroked the smooth skin on your hips.

“Did we?”

“Oh yeah we did…” he breathed, sitting up and sliding his hands from your back to your bum; he closed the space between your bodies even more and let you feel the effect you were having on him once again, “…I’m so glad we did.”

“Less talking, babe.” you told him, as you started to undress him from his sweater.

He didn’t need to hear any more words, as he quickly changed your positions, placing himself on top of you without letting you go, without separating your bodies at all. And he kissed you, you could feel his lips everywhere on your upper body: from your lips, to your cheeks, to your neck and collarbones.

“Ruben…” you sighed, running your nails at the base of his neck. As you moved your touch to his shoulders, you groaned at the feeling of his muscles tensing under your touch.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this…” he stated as he removed his body from yours just to remove his shorts, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“I’m right here…” were the only words you were able to say, as your brain was fogged with the image of his sculpted body, “…come here.”

“Not before I let you out of these…” he smirked down at you as his fingers tugged at your panties.

“Ruben…” you breathed as you felt his fingers move to your inner thighs, before he slowly removed your underwear.

“What is it?” he stopped his movements to look you in the eyes, as he threw your panties somewhere on the floor before he started leaving kisses on your neck once again.

“I want you, please…” you raised your hips, rubbing against his still clothed crotch and earning a soft moan from him, “Please.” you pleaded again, directly placing your hand on his cock and whimpering at how big he felt under your touch.

“Do you?” he hissed, already feeling inebriated by your touch, “Let me see…”

His lips trailed from the sensitive spot below your ear, to your chest. As he made his way down, his hands made quick work of removing your bra before he placed his big palms over your breasts. He took his time to caress them, while his lips kissed the soft skin of your stomach, going lower, getting closer and closer to where you needed him the most.

“Stay.” he rasped as soon as he noticed the way you moved your hips to match his kisses on your body, before he stopped your movements with his own two hands.

He was licking his lips as he stared down at you: your naked body sprawled out on his sofa, your soft pants and the way your chest rose and fell, the way your hooded eyes showed your desire for him were driving him crazy.

“You’re making me go insane babe…” he breathed, murmuring a low “fuck” then as he could feel his cock twitch in his boxers at the mere sight of you.

He couldn’t wait any longer to have you, so he removed the last piece of clothing from his perfect body in a haste; he stood naked in front of you, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sight of perfection in front of your eyes.

“Let me taste you.” he rasped, “Please.” he begged as he kissed up your inner thigh, softly biting your skin here and there.

“Fuck Rubes…” you whined, already feeling lightheaded, “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else, as he moved his face higher and higher, until he started eating you out slowly, gently, lovingly. You knew he was passionate and caring, yet you only knew that as a friend. Knowing that as a lover was a completely different matter.

His tongue worked wonders on your sensitive skin, but he wasn’t rushing anything; he was taking his time to taste you, to make you feel good, and while doing so he always kept his eyes on your face.

“Oh my God babe,” you panted, as the look in his dark eyes was making your head spin, “you’re gonna make me cum if you keep this up…”

“Is it bad if I make you cum?” he asked, kissing up your body as he was laying between your legs in a second.

“Of course it’s not,” you said before you bit on his lower lip this time, “but I wanna cum with you inside me.”

As you took him completely by surprise, you pushed him, making him sit back on the sofa, and ended up on top of him. It wasn’t like you not to return the favour, so you started kissing him, and slowly descended down his sculpted chest while pressing kisses on his toned body.

Ruben was squirming under your kisses, as he was already desperate to be inside you. But he’d have to wait as you had other plans, and he soon understood what you had in mind, as soon as he watched you kneel between his parted thighs.

“Fuck babe…” he hissed as he saw the way your hand wrapped around his dick.

“Shh…” you pressed your lips on his inner thigh, making him moan, “I wanna make you feel good.” you were the one to lock your eyes on his this time, as you took him in your mouth.

“Oh God…” he breathed, “You’ll be the death of me.”

You batted your eyes at him, and he had to close his eyes as he swore. Many times he thought about you in the dirtiest way; now, seeing you like this, with his dick in your mouth, was making him doubt his willpower, his strength, as he was sure that if he looked at you one more time he was going to cum straight away.

“Come here, I need you.” he growled, as he removed himself from your mouth, helping you sit directly over his hips, “Do we need any protection?”

“There’s no need for that,” you told him, “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean so…”

“Fuck, I was hoping you would say that,” he smiled up at you, “I’m clean too, so…”

“So…” you breathed as you took his cock in your hand and guided him to your entrance. He moved his hips upwards, pushing himself inside of you completely with a slow, deep thrust.

“God, you’re amazing, you look stunning on top of me.” he moaned in your ear, as he let you adjust to his size.

“Fuck baby you’re so deep…” you whimpered as you slowly started to ride him, already clenching down on him as you were still sensitive from earlier’s ministrations.

“I am love,” he groaned, guiding your movements with his hands, “you’re taking me so well, fuck…”

“Fuck Rubes, I want more…”

The movie was long forgotten by now, it only played in the background, overshadowed by your soft moans and heavy breathing.

“You want more?” he asked and you yelped as Ruben suddenly stood with you in his arms, before he laid you down on his sofa, slamming his dick into your wet core once again, forcefully this time. “Is this more?”

“Fuck yes!” you moaned out loud as you could feel your body burning under Ruben’s powerful thrusts, “Oh my God Ruben!”

“You know I’m never gonna let you go right?” he asked you, his voice strained both from the effort and his self control.

“Yes Rubes, fuck yes…” you panted, your high already making your skin tingle.

“You’re mine now.” he said as he gave a hard thrust, as if he wanted to make sure you’d understand, “Mine, all mine.”

“All yours!” you whined, running your nails down his back as he hissed, increasing the rhythm of his hips.

“God, you love it like this don’t you?” Ruben growled as he could feel how close you were to your high.

“I love it, oh fuck Rubes I love you even more…” you panted, panicking for a second upon hearing your own words, “I’m so, so close!”

“Fuck baby, I love you too,” Ruben smiled down at you, dissolving your panic in a second as he pressed his lips to yours, “Cum for me now, you’ve done so well baby…”

“I want you to cum with me, please…” you begged him, touching his face and running your nails through his beard as you looked deep into his brown eyes, “Please…”

“I’m right here with you love,” he said out of breath, as he ran his hand up your outer thigh while he pushed faster and faster into you, “Cum with me baby, let me hear you…”

“Fuck Ruben!” you shook under his thrusts, it was like jolts of electricity ran through every inch of your body, sending you over the edge as you came around him.

It didn’t take long for him to reach his own high, triggered by the sight of you coming undone right below him. Of course after that he was fully spent, both your intense working days were catching up with you as you just laid there in each other’s embrace.

“When I said I love you earlier, I meant it…” Ruben mumbled against your sweaty skin, “You didn’t scare me away if it is what you’re thinking…”

“How did you know I was panicking?? What is it with you and always reading me like an open book??” you giggled, as your nails gently scratched the back of his head that was currently resting on your still naked chest, “By the way, I know you meant it, I just panicked because it came out unexpectedly I guess.” you admitted as you heard him chuckle.

“But you do mean it?” he snapped his head up to look at you.

“Of course I do, I love you, you dork!” you giggled as you watched his features relax while he sighed in relief.

“Good.” he stated, wrapping his arms around you so tight you couldn’t breathe, “Because I’m not letting you go.”

“Rubes, I have to go and clean myself up!” you laughed at his sudden clingyness.

“Okay okay…” he sighed, letting you go and watching as you wore his sweater instead of the hoodie you had on earlier, that was always his but that was irrelevant.

He too got up from his spot on the sofa and put his boxers back on, before he started rearranging the room a bit as he waited for you.

“Hey, do you want something from the kitchen? I think I’m gonna eat a cupcake…” you pondered while you walked back to the living room.

“What?” he frowned, “I thought I was your sweet treat!”

“Who said that??”

“You said that!” he was pouting like a kid now, and you swore that was the sweetest thing you ever saw.

“Aw baby, of course you are sweet,” you reassured him, walking to him and standing on your toes to kiss him deeply, “but you’re not a cupcake.”

“That’s mean!”

“What can I say, Rubes?” you shrugged, and as you walked to the kitchen you winked at him over your shoulder, “A girl has her needs!”

[ottpopfic]

“What are you making anyways?” Jason asks

“Nothing!” They say in unison, Katie uses her arms to hide whatever is on the bench.

Jason looks between the two of them suspicious, it's never good when Katie and Leo work together on something that they don't want him to know about. The last time they exploded something this much that they didn’t want him to know about it ended up being a grenade launcher they were trying to get to fit in a thermos.

---

Katie and Leo are making something when she comes to visit

———

When the latest explosion rocks the Way Station Jason goes to figure out what's up. He doesn't know when he became the WorkShop Wrangler, sometime between getting a goddaughter and marrying the love of his life? Who's to know? All he knows is the Way Station will slowly move his office closer and closer to the main room until it feels like there isn't a wall between him and the ruckus

Either way making sure the two children of Hephaestus in his life don't kill themselves or others is apparently now on his resume. Right next to ‘three-time savor of the world’, ‘came back from the dead over six times’, and ‘godfather to too many overpowered big three grandchildren”.

“Okay, you both know the rules” Jason chastises as he beelines it to the two smoking children of Hephaestus. Leo is patting out part of his godkid’s shirt like his own hair doesn't have embers in it still “Three explosions a day and you're done. There have been four explosions, who's getting kicked out of the WorkShop?”

Both Leo and Katie immediately point at each other, sometimes they act too much like the siblings they actually are.

But someone is definitely lying. Time to ask the neutral party

“Way Station?” Jason calls to the building, the lights around them adjust so Leo is in a spotlight

“Aw, come on!” He exclaims, arms thrown out at the travesty of being called out on his bad behavior. Katie gives him a quiet snicker

“Lying about your own godkid, how could you”

“It's her project” his husband cries in his defense, gesturing at the twelve-year-old

“Nuh-uh!” Katie protests

“But did you make three explosions?” Jason counters, very used to this argument from the both of them

“At least one of them was a combined effort,” Leo says like it makes anything better and crossing his arms

“Out” Jason demands, pointing to the red gaffer tape boundary line that divides the workshop from the rest of the room

Leo goes, complaining and stomping the whole way. Wonderful role model behavior, you would never know he was in his mid-thirties

“What are you making anyways?” He asks

“Nothing!” They say in unison, Katie uses her arms to hide whatever is on the bench.

Jason looks between the two of them suspicious, it's never good when they're working together on something that they don't want him to know about. The last time they exploded something this much that they didn’t want him to know about it ended up being a grenade launcher they were trying to get to fit in a thermos.

“One more and you're out too” Jason threatens his goddaughter instead of getting to the bottom of it, because at the end of the day he really doesn't want to know. Katie gives him her best ‘im cute and innocent' smile that only works on her grandfathers at this point because Jason knows better.

Jason married a Hephaestus child, he has been in and out of these kinds of maker spaces for years, and he knows what the lot of them are capable of. And as much as he adores his godkid, Katie is as much of an explosion-happy pyromaniac as the rest of them. It's not as obvious because of the kind of work she tends to make, but it's just as there if you know where to look. This only exacerbates when she's with Leo, it's why the ‘three explosions’ rule is there in the first place. That and to keep Will’s blood pressure down

So Jason leaves them to it, and pretends not to see Katie toss his husband a spool of wire the second his back is turned. Demons the both of them

But nothing explodes for the rest of the day. They come out for meals and go to bed on time like good little mischief makers, but the two of them are up to something. They're talking together with their heads close, dark curls touching as they go over sketches and ideas they angle away from everyone else. They also keep glancing at him when they think he can't see, which is not as slick as they think it is.

Worst of all they are roping his mother-in-law into it, if Jason catches the three of them going over something when he enters the room has anything to say about it. The second they notice him their volume lowers, a bad sign. He really does not want to get Emmi involved if he doesn't have to, but sending Katie home in one piece takes priority

It's the day before they need to take Katie back to camp that Jason finally figures out what's going on.

He's taking a break from work for a snack, because he sets a timer for breaks unlike someone he shares a last name with. When he enters the main room his two troublemakers spot him right away, both excitedly beckoning him over to the workbench they have been camped out on all weekend.

“We made you something!” Katie exclaims before he's even entered the WorkShop all the way, practically vibrating on the stool she's sitting on

“I thought you two were exploding things” he teases

“Nah, I got bottle rockets for tonight though,” his husband tells him, at least they do those on the roof “Close your eyes”

“And hold out your hands!” Katie chirps, he does as asked. Something cool and metallic is placed in his palm

“Can I open my eyes?” he asks with a smile, a chorus of confirmation is excitedly given

It's a watch, a very nice watch. Jason has been watching his husband work for long enough to tell that it's made of both celestial bronze and imperial gold, which explains the explosions as it's well known that they can be volatile when combined wrong. But it's a gorgeous piece, made to his size and preferences

The watch face is light enamel, white and blue in a swirling marble effect that he can tell is moving with the barometric pressure, with dark metal roman numerals and arms. It even has a time of day section with a detailed miniature painting of the sky, currently showing outsides exact weather, in the painting style that he recognizes as all Katie. There are three smaller sub-dials for the date, the coloring of their faces making a triple moon. The bezel is embellished with a finely braided five-strand braid of both metals in wire with an addition of one strand of silver. The braids branch out seamlessly into the lugs, all delicate swirls and filigree. There are two extra pushers on either side, one in gold and the other in bronze, the winding crown has tiny lightning bolts as the grip.

The watch band is an overlaying smooth links in alternating celestial bronze and imperial gold, creating a delicate V pattern down both sides. But along the edges of the band are a spear and sword, folding gracefully and segmented towards each other on each side of the band, the spear in gold and the sword in bronze.

“Did you two make me a new sword?” he asks, touched

“And spear” Leos adds

“And shield!” Katie continues excitedly rocking on her stool

“We wanted to make you something new,” his husband tells him “something you had a choice in”

“Your cutlass suuucks !” Katie jeers, Leo gestures in agreement

“I don't know what to say” Jason chokes out

“Try it on!” Katie tells him, so he tries it on

It fits perfectly, of course it does, light and comfortable on his wrist. Leo and Katie immediately start talking over each other to explain all of its features

“You gotta press the buttons for the weapons” Leo starts

“There labeled by metal” Katie adds pointing

“We wanted to use both so you had both camps-”

“But also if a monster is more one than the other you can choose”

“Right, cause you don't wanna get the wrong one”

“But you can only have one or the other”

“Yeah we couldn't get it to dual wield and be a shield-”

“That's why it kept exploding-”

“The combo of metals kept overheating”

“And we got the enchantment on the weather to work on the first try!”

“That was all Katie by the way”

“Oh oh, and you gotta twist the dial under the bezel for the shield”

“Yeah but make sure you pick your blade first-”

“Yeah cause the buttons stay small when it comes out-”

“Makes it harder to get it out”

“We had to get GrandJosie to help to even to get the buttons to translate out”

“Oh, but you should see the shield!”

“Yes!”

“Okay okay” Jason laughs, he loves the two of them so much “Does it matter which way I twist it?”

“Should work the same both ways” his husband tells him

Jason twists the dial, a shield spirals out of the watch face, the watch band becoming the guiges on his arm. It's the perfect size and weight, celestial bronze with imperial gold on the edges. When he twists his arm he sees that the front of the shield is emblazoned with a snarling wolf face. At closer inspection he can see that the wolf is wearing Lupa’s circlet in silver details, the cooler-toned metal outlining the face and making it jump out even more

It's not a Greek or Roman design, it's the protection of the closest thing Jason’s ever had to an actual mother figure, his real history. It was in his wedding vows too, when he shed the last tie he had to his mortal family, ‘Jason Valdez, son of Lupa, do you take this man-’

He's tearing up, how could he not? Two of his favorite people in the world just made him something so him it hurts. Not a tool to use for another's gain, not something to symbolize what is wanted for him, something for him. To protect him, that gives him a choice in how he uses it, and expects nothing in return. Just because they love him, because they wanted to, and nothing else.

“Do you not like it?” Katie asks concerned at his tears

“No I love it” he wetly warbles out

“Aw, babe” Leo coos and pulls him into a three-way hug. Is Jason getting snot in his husband's hair, who's to say?

———

[kapten425]

Chapter 2 Part 1 "A Glimpse of Hope"

The golden light of the setting sky bathed the city of Nokstela. The bright sun of the Lands Between slowly gave it's place to the glimmering stars above. Their brilliance only second to the divine light of the Erdtree. Inside Master Enouch's workshop a young man was trying to put together a glintstone powered core, under the watchfull eye of his teacher. Master Enouch stroke his beard as he observed his student's work. While the young man was very talented in the use of glintstone magic, when it came to glidstone mechanism he was out of his field. A simple core was a task of 1 hour, 2 if he was an amateur. He was struggling to make it work for 5 hours, with no signs of success. The young man tried to put the core into motion. The core's outside rings started spinning, showing signs progress. The young man was about to take a deep breath when suddenly the core's operation stopped. The young man smashed his fists on the table in a feat of anger.

"Cursed pile of metal scraps."

Master Enouch placed his hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Patience young one. Glintstone Mechanisms take time to figure out."

"It's completely useless for me to learn this kind of crap. I could be practicing my glidstone phalanx spells right now instead of......"

Before he could finish his sentence an old man in blue robe, decorated with small glintstone peddles entered the workshop. He was visually agitated, indicating that he had heard the young one's insults to Master Enouch.

"Seluvis, the art of glintstone mechanisms is a sacred one. Respect is mandatory. Especially to Master Enouch, who is the best glintstone engineer in Nokstela. And a personal friend of mine."

Young Seluvis lowered his head after the man spoke. Master Enouch smiled towards his unexpected visitor.

"Lusat, you are here earlier than expected."

"I just happened to finish my duties faster than anticipated. So I came to see how my poor mannered pupil was holding up. Only to be embarrassed by his words. I apologize my friend."

He said and bowed to Enouch. Enouch smiled towards Lusat.

"No need old pal. I'm sure mister Seluvis feels very sorry about this little slip of tongue ."

Lusat gave a confused look. Before Seluvis could ask what he meant Master Enouch continued.

"Which is why he would return here tomorrow morning to finish this glintstone core."

Master Enouch turned to the clearly angry Seluvis, saying.

"No matter how much time it takes him to make it operational."

Seluvis tried to protest, but he was cut short by Master Lusat.

"I'm sure he will. Right Seluvis."

Seluvis gave a defeated look at Maste Enouch. As a confirmation he replied.

"Very well master Enouch. I'll be here tomorrow morning."

He turned to leave the workshop. As he reached for the handle he faced the masters once again.

"But heed this. The project that master Enouch wants me to do is impossible to perform. No one can make this core of garbage work."

With that final act of defiance he exited the workshop. Lusat sighted. His student's pride was going to be a problem for him in the future. He turned to his friend who was more focused on Seluvis's work on the core.

"Once again my friend, I sincerely apologize for Seluvis's reaction. I should have taught him better."

Master Enouch, still focused on the core replied.

"No need to worry. Compared to other pupils I had in the past, he was rather mild. If he ever steps out of line, I will run his ass to the ground. Protégé or not."

Lusat came closer to observe the mechanism. Despite Seluvis's crude language he had a point. The mechanism in front of him was rather complex. Normally glintstone cores were utilising the natural rotary movement of the glintstone crystal in the centre to commence it's operation. As the natural rotation takes place the surrounding rings are adjusted to create 3 layers around the crystal that rotate counter wise. That slight interaction creates a type of energy that can be utilised for powering up a larger mechanism like a marionette, like a perpetual clockwork device. This mechanism was trying to utilize the friction between the core and the mechanism by making the rings go diagonal, passing through the other rings way, colliding with each other. It looked impossible indeed. Lusat looked at Enouch. His gaze was wandering around the mechanism.

"Enouch, my friend, I don't want to judge your work....."

Enouch turned to Lusat with a questioning look on his face. Lusat continued.

"But don't you think this mechanism is a little bit advanced for my pupil?"

Enouch smiled at his friend's comment.

"Well Lusat. You see......"

Before he could finish the inside curtain of his workshop opened and a young Elias entered the room. He was wearing a blacksmith's apron with oil stains on it. His pockets were full of tools while his hands, full of stains, were holding something wrapped in a linel cloth. He had signs of oil and dust on his face with only his greenish blue eyes and his black hair being somewhat clean. He approached master Enouch with a steady pace.

"Master Enouch I finished the rounding and polishing of the crystal you gave me. I am sure now it will fit inside the core much easier."

Master Enouch became serious as Elias handed him the modified glintstone crystal. He took it from the cloth and brought it close to his eyes. The crystal was perfectly spherical. Any imperfections that it had before were gone, and with the polishing the crystal looked more like a gem than a glintstone crystal. Lusat came closer to observe the small ord as well, with similar reactions. After the inspection master Enouch smiled towards Elias and gave him the crystal.

"Perfect work as always Elias. And in half the time I expected."

Elias smiled widely after hearing those words.

"I was just doing my job master. Nothing more."

Elias now noticed Lusat looking at him with an impressed look. Lusat decided to talk.

"Indeed impressive work my boy."

Elias realised that he hadn't paid his respects to his master's visitor.

"Oh .... I apologize for my poor manners. My name is Elias, a humble apprentice of Master Enouch. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Elias then bowed with a small movement to Master Lusat. When Lusat saw Elias's act of respect he started laughing. Not in a insulting way, but with a satisfying one.

"Hahahaha truly Seluvis can learn a thing or two from you dear boy."

Enouch seeing the happy atmosphere he grabbed Lusat by the shoulder.

"Elias let me introduce you to my old friend and one of the grand masters of the Raya Lucaria Academy, Master Lusat."

Lusat with a playful sight he stretched out his hand.

"An honour, young Elias. It's refreshing to see someone with true manners."

Elias flinched at the sound of Lusat's profession. And seeing that he stretched out his hand he offered his accordingly. By this point he had figured out why he was here.

"Then you must Seluvis's master. I presume."

"Indeed. Even though he is an excellent mage, he still has a lot to learn. And judging from Enouch's respect towards you. You must be very talented to have chosen you as his apprentice."

Elias smiled for the praise he was given by Lusat.

"I'm just doing what I know is right, under the tutelage of master Enouch. I own him a lot."

Lusat looked at Elias with a questionable look. But before he could ask what he meant, Enouch already had Elias's focus on Seluvis's project.

"Elias I need your help over here. I'm sure you are familiar with this glintstone core design."

Elias looked at the Seluvis's core. After a few seconds he sighted moving his hands to his sides.

"He didn't succeed. Didn't he."

"Correct my boy."

Elias placed one of his hands on his forehead, clearly disappointed.

"I told him, he cannot simply replicate the design and make it work. He needs to understand the reason why....."

Enouch stopped Elias from continuing by grabbing his shoulder. He then nodded his head, confirming what Elias was trying to say.

"I know my boy. But this is not why I show you this. Tell me. How much time do you need to make it work."

Elias tilted his head to the side in order to get a different view of the core. After a moment he replied.

"About 15-20 minutes tops. Do you want me to write down my steps."

Enouch smiled at Elias. Efficient as ever.

"Yes please. In the meantime me and Lusat will go a little bit outside. I need some fresh air. Call us when you finish."

Elias sat on the chair and grabbed the tools from his apron. His eyes focused on his new task.

"Right away master. Take your time."

And with that Enouch and Lusat exited the workshop. The night had already fallen on top the city. Master Enouch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Lusat looked at his with a puzzled look as he started to talk

"Enouch, you are hiding things from me. Why you never told me you had an apprentice."

Enouch reached to his pocket and took out a small smoking pipe. After putting a few dried leaves, he lighted it up with the use of a small matchstick and started smoking.

"To tell you the truth, I never thought I would ever accept one. Elias, although, is special."

"Care to explain this."

Enouch smiled.

"Elias is an orphan, Lusat. An orphan that was wondering the city 5 years ago. I saw his potential and decided to take him under my protection."

Lusat looked at his friend with a saddened look.

"Oh I'm sorry, if I knew..."

"That's why I brought you outside. I knew you would ask what he meant. He is a good kid and I wish to help him as much as I can. After all I own this to his parents."

"Did you knew them?"

"No, and neither he. But his foster parents were albinaurics. They found him bundled up in a linel clothing off the western sea coast of Liurnia as a baby. They raised him to the albinauric village south of here. But after their deaths, Elias was left all alone. I'm sure you can understand how they died."

Lusat continued with a sad movement.

"The albinauric curse I presume."

Enouch nodded. He continued while he was smoking his small pipe.

" After a while he came to Nokstela and I stumbled across him. He showed me his potential for machineries and I decided to take him in. I taught him everything I know about my art, and he accepted them without a moment's hesitation. Then I saw it. His spark for creation. He worked on my workshop day and night. Never complaining, never stopping. And most importantly he elevated even my own knowledge upon glintstone motors. You already saw his work."

Enouch pointed at his back.

"The motor Seluvis was trying to make it work, was Elias's design."

Lusat looked bewildered. Enouch was talking about Elias, as he was talking about a grand master. He tried to clear his throat.

"Come on now Enouch. He can't be that good."

Enouch chuckled at his friend's comment.

"You know me too well, Lusat. I would never joke about this kind of things."

He then looked at the night sky of Nokstela. His eyes fixed on the constellations above.

"I tell you, Lusat. No matter how difficult a task is Elias would bring it to fruition. When it comes down to his capabilities. Elias, at one point, he will be able to bring anything back to life, mechanical or not."

Lusat looked at Enouch.

"Anything?"

"Anything....."

[jackwatters]

Terminology

Photoshop - Software best for image editing

Adobe Illustrator - Software best for drawing/graphic design

Raster image: Image composed of pixels, used by photoshop. Best used for photos as pixels work better with much more complex images, such as photos which may contain up to thousands of colours.

Vector image: Image composed of Biezer curves, used by photoshop. These images are scalable, and best used for Digital Artwork.

Bezier Curves (Illustrator) - A curve used in programs that lies between two set points.

Stroke (Illustrator) - The lines.

Fill (Illustrator) - The solid colours/tone.

Gizmo/Manipulation Box - The box around an image/object that manipulates it's size/rotation (Transform) properties.

Transform - Rotation/Size/Scale.

Compositing - Making a new image out of other images

Selection - The objects you have highlighted and edit

Anchor Point - The point at which a line starts/ends.

Corner - A type of anchor point that connects a straight segment

Curve - A type of anchor point that connects a curved segment (Arc)

Segment - The object between anchor points

Apex - The innermost part of the curve

Breakpoint - The point where two handles have split

Handle - The two bars on a curve anchor point that control the length/orientation of a curve segment

Hybrid Points - Anchor Points that connect both curved segments and straight segments

Copy - Copying the selected objects to your clipboard

Cut - Removes selected objects from canvas and puts them on your clipboard

Paste - Dropping your clipboard onto the canvas

Clipboard - Where you store everything you've copyed/cut, can hold images and text

Group - A selection of objects that are sorted together so they can be edited as one

Gradient - A colour/tone that changes by slowly blending into a different colour/tone

Additive Colour Model - The more colours added, the brighter (RGB)

Subtractive Colour Model - The more colours added, the darker (CYMK)

RGB - Red Green Blue

CYMK - Cyan Yellow Magenta Black

Adjustment - brightness, colours, etc.

Hue - what determines one colour from another, so Hue is colour

Saturation - The vibrancy of the colour, so it may become very vibrant or quite dull

Brightness - The lightness, adding brightness is a tint, subtracting brightness is a shade,

Histogram - A graph depicting the distribution of pixels depending on how light/dark they are,

Layer - The plane your objects lie on, there are usually multiple per project, and the order of them is top to bottom where the top objects appear first, and the bottom object appear last

Mask - Another plane of a layer that determines what pixels of that layer are shown, and which are not (black = not shown, white = shown)

Leading - The horizontal space between one line and another (In paragraphs and text).

Column - The space the paragraphs are stored.

Gutter - The space between columns.

Widow - One word that is left at the bottom of a paragraph (these are generally undesirable).

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[niennandil-me-writes]

Fragments of a Cybernetic Mind: Chapter 2 - Shattered Memories

Summary Half a year has passed since the events of Christmas of 2064. The world is slowly adjusting to sentient ROMs. But Turing is distracted from their task as ROM-kind's leader and ambassador by another obligation they carry. They want to deliver Leon Dekker’s last words to his daughter. But first, they’ll have to find her, which doesn’t prove easy. They ask their journalist friend for help, who seems less than thrilled.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 (final) Epilogue

CN: car accidents, an Austrian’s attempt at writing a Southern accent

The screen is like a shield. A barrier protecting me from the direct impact of the data stored on the caches connected to our respective hubs. TOMCAT is sitting on my couch wearing a retro-looking helmet with a visor screen while their hands play on a keyboard and a control panel. Turing has the data plugged directly into their system, their face screen blank as they navigate several terabytes of information. I’m working on my laptop, whose ventilation is running wild from the exertion. I’m almost afraid it might explode in my lap.

“A whoppin’ 90% of the data is damaged somethin’ bad from when y’all fried the brain,” TOMCAT explained when they set up everything in my living room. “So far neither me nor Turing could find anything that might help find the daughter, but it’s all very scrangled as well. The memory files used to have information on when it was created, but that went haywire as well, so we’re in a bit of a pickle there.”

When I asked what they had found so far, TOMCAT elaborated: “Well, I tried sorting thru the stuff and labelin’ anythin’ as best I could as I looked through it. So about 20% of the missing data is sorted now. Unlucky for us, the parts containing memories from his past got a pretty bad hit.”

“We’ve got the first name of his wife in the process,” Turing offered. “Well, ex-wife, that is... She is called Sarah.”

“Which is about as handy as a heating pad on a summer day in Neo-SF,” TOMCAT said. “There’s hundreds of Sarahs in the city right now, and many more in the rest of the US.”

“What about the daughter's name?”

“Nope. Not as we could find so far.”

“Like TOMCAT said, the time between his brain transplant and him leaving his family received the worst damage,” Turing explained. “And that’s when his daughter was born.”

TOMCAT explained the labeling system of the data and how to gather information from it, as well as the sorting method they and Turing had worked out. Then we split up the work between us: TOMCAT tries to restore damaged data and missing labels, while Turing looks through memories with unclear origin to sort it in a timeline, and I look at data we are sure is from the time before the brain transplant took place. Either TOMCAT or Turing marked most of this data with “WD”, as opposed to the ”LD” on the other memories. I’ve gotten out the pinboard which I use to structure my writing. We are now using the other side for keeping track of our research. TOMCAT created a shared digital document, but I still work best with physical notes, so it’s mostly them and Turing using it.

I saw my therapist yesterday, and for the first time since my first appointments talked about what happened down in the sewers and Parallax’ server room. I told her about this project. She was a bit skeptical but told me it wasn’t her place to stop me from this decision. She also said it might be a way for me to work through my trauma, while emphasizing that I should be careful not to get too emotionally involved. I didn’t tell her I would be looking at his memories. She would have been more critical of that.

So far, it is going far better than I thought it would. It helps that TOMCAT keeps insisting on frequent breaks. At noon, they make biscuits and gravy in my kitchen, which seems almost too cliche, but it’s the first homemade food I’ve had in a while, so I’m grateful for it. 

Working on a laptop helps as well. I don’t know how I would react if I looked at actual pictures, videos, heard sounds, like Turing and TOMCAT. They both seem to naturally approach it from a distance which I have to enforce through keeping the screen a foot away from my face, and by looking only at the text files. Memories become data points, nothing but lines of script, dialogues on a screen, hex codes to describe colors, formulas for scents –

Everything’s in binary!

I jerk upward. Hands cramped on the keyboard. 

“Everything alright with ya?” TOMCAT puts a hand on my shoulder.

I look at Turing, who hasn’t noticed, still sunken in their own heap of data. I breathe in. Breathe out. Force a nod.

I haven’t been exactly honest with Turing. I remember everything he said. I hear his voice in my dreams. In my nightmares. 

“Do y’all need a break?”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. It’s just code.”

TOMCAT still insists on making me a cup of tea. While they are gone, I look through another memory. As I scroll through the text, I find myself wondering if this is how he experienced the world. Or did he get a similar feed as TOMCAT is through their helmet? But that would still be just a facsimile of reality. What would it be like to experience the world like this? When all your memories are there, right in front of your eyes, but not tangible. Marked read only.

TOMCAT comes back with the tea, and I tear myself away from these thoughts looping in my mind. I realize I’ve been scrolling through the same memory for some time without registering anything. I take a sip from the cup and scroll back up. It’s bland enough, an average way to work. Strange. Most of these mundane memories get saved in much more compact form. I wonder how it ever moved out of short term memory. It also seems heavily glitched, which is odd, since the information markers all seem intact. The date, contexts, location, it’s all here. And still, the data itself just breaks off in the middle.

I close the file, label it as unimportant, and move on to the chronologically next one. Except there isn’t any. The next dated memory lies several months in the future and is marked “LD”. With an uneasy feeling in my stomach, I open up the other file again, scroll down to the bottom. It cuts up just as he is crossing a street. Then the noise of a car going too fast.

And I realize I just watched Wilson Dekker die.

[mandos-mind-trick]

Sharpshooting

Summary: Hunter pairs Midnight with Crosshair on a mission after Tech finishes her new armor. Midnight gets a few lessons in sharpshooting, and an attitude adjustment from the Batch’s resident sniper. 

Warnings: Guns, talk of injuries briefly, Crosshair being Crosshair, language, smut, P in V smut, fingering, Crosshair’s ass fixation, some rank-play, hair pulling, orgasm denial. 

Pairing: Crosshair x reader, implied poly Bad Batch x reader

A/N: I swear I didn’t plan the order of these, we just happen to be going back to Crosshair first cause it fit with the storyline. Also, I know nothing about sniping so if this is totally wrong, please forgive me. Also planned to get this out earlier but we started Independence Day late and I had to finish this on “make sure the neighbors don’t burn the neighborhood down” duty. 

< Previous | Next > | MASTERLIST

Midnight creeps slowly down the hall, walking on her tiptoes to avoid waking the sleeping clones in the bunks. She couldn’t sleep. Even the gentle humming of the ship wasn’t enough to ease her mind so she could drift off for a few hours rest. Instead she found herself lying awake, mind thinking far too much to let her relax. 

So she decided to seek out the only other being on the ship that would still be awake. 

She finds him in the hull, bent over some project on the floor. She carefully approaches him, sinking to the floor near him, leaning against the worktable. 

“What are you doing up?” He asks, glancing at her before looking back to what he was working on. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” She says, pulling her knees to her chest. “What are you working on?” 

“Your new armor.” He says, holding up a piece of white plastoid. “I picked up a few pieces when we were on Kamino. Thought I’d try repurposing them.” 

She stares between him and the plastoid for a moment. “That didn’t...come off someone who died, did it?” 

He shakes his head, the corners of his lips lifting in a smile. “No. It’s training armor. It’s what young clones wear when we start combat training. It’s not as heavy as our combat armor, but better than that foam composite civilians wear. It won’t make you blaster proof, but it will protect against small hits, debris, shrapnel.” 

Midnight rubs her sore shoulder where she’d gotten hit by a droid just a few hours ago. “That’s good. Getting punched by a droid wasn’t something I expected to put on my list.”

“You did hit it first with your blaster.” 

“Well, it was the only thing I could think of in that moment. It’s not my fault my blaster jammed.” She rubs her hands over her cheeks. “I’m just glad it didn’t land that punch to my face.” 

“I can reconstruct armor. Faces, I’m less confident in doing.” 

Midnight stifles her giggle behind her hand. Tech could be surprisingly funny, she found. She had gotten in the habit of halfway listening to him when he babbled, but occasionally he pulled out some quick wit, sometimes even a joke. 

“The fit is going to be the biggest issue.” He says, holding up the chest piece. “Since we can’t have it shaped specially for you.” Tech adjusts his goggles, speaking more to himself. “I could attempt to reshape the plastoid, though I don’t want to risk the integrity of it.” He picks up his datapad, flipping through a diagram. “I was thinking of modeling it more after Mandalorian armor. That way it will be more comfortable for you, while still upholding its integrity.” 

Midnight looks down at her chest. “My boobs thank you.” 

He stares at her for a moment before he pushes the pieces of armor away from him to clear a spot. “Come here. It’ll be easier for me to do this with you sitting here than just going off your measurements.” 

“My measurements?” Midnight asks, pausing for a moment in her crawl closer to him. 

“In your GAR file from when they gave you your civilian armor.” Tech explains, moving her so she’s kneeling in front of him. 

Midnight stares at him. “How detailed is that file?” 

“Very.” Tech says, slipping the chestplate over her head. “Hunter and I are the only ones that bothered to read it. Hunter only skimmed the important parts. It was a fascinating read. Far more interesting than any of ours.” 

Midnight blinks at him. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that.” 

“It was nothing bad.” Tech says, putting his hands on her waist. “Sit up straight. Arms out.” She lifts her arms out to the side. “Though your test scores were a bit concerning.” 

Midnight shrugs. “The file wasn’t lying when it said I had no formal education. Couldn’t afford it.” 

“You’re still very knowledgeable.” Tech says, pressing the chest plate against her, marking the plastoid. 

“Like most things I learned through experience.” 

“But there’s a certain intellect required to be able to learn through experience.” Tech says, removing the chest plate. 

Midnight stares at him for a moment, his eyes downcast, looking at the chest plate and his markings. She leans forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Tech.” 

The youthful clone looks up at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short because you’re not like us. We were engineered this way. We were trained to best use our skills. This is our only purpose.” 

Midnight shifts off her knees, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Tech, what do you think will happen when the war’s over?” 

“Well, that depends,” He starts, going back to fiddling with the plastoid. “On who wins. If the Republic wins, I doubt the fighting will end right away. Likely there will still be Separatist aligned planets that will offer resistance. Likely the Republic will continue to use clones to settle the rebellions. If the Separatists win, I don’t think they would wipe out the entire GAR. Civilians like you would probably be integrated into their own army, or simply have your contracts absolved.” He’s quiet for a moment. “They may integrate the younger clones as well, those who are still being trained and developed.” 

“And the rest of you? Those who are already fighting for the GAR?” 

Tech looks up at her. “I don’t think all of us could be convinced to integrate into the Separatist forces. If the Separatists win, there’s still going to be those who continue to fight, those who resist. I think a lot of clones would continue to fight, even if the Republic fell.” His eyes scan her face. “You’ve been thinking about this a lot.” 

She nods. “Especially recently. I mean, it’s been almost eight months. The war won’t last forever. I know it won’t. I’m not worried about what will happen to me after. I’m a civilian. I’ll either continue working for the GAR or make a new life somewhere else. I know this is partly why they warned us not to get close, why they enforce those rules so heavily. I worry about what will happen to all of you when the war’s over, no matter what side wins. I-I mean, I love all of you. I know it hasn’t been long since we started this arrangement, but it’s how I feel, and the thought of losing all of you scares me. This is the first time I’ve felt safe, like someone cared about me. That someone would look for me if I disappeared. I don’t want to go back to the way things were before, not now that I know how different they can be-” 

Midnight’s rant is silenced by Tech’s lips on hers. She’s surprised, her brain short-circuiting a bit at the feel of his soft lips. 

“Judging by your physical symptoms, you were getting stressed.” He murmurs against her lips, kissing her again. “Stress raises your blood pressure.” He pulls her closer, kissing her again. “Kissing dilates your blood vessels.” He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling them so they’re almost chest of chest. “Lowering blood pressure.” 

Midnight hums against his lips, snaking her arms around his neck. “Tech, you’re a nerd.” She kisses him again. “But you’re my nerd.” 

*****

“Kriffing-fuck!” Midnight breathes, inhaling sharply. She curses everything she possibly can think of silently in her head. The dim light in the hallway of the ship had betrayed her once again, causing her to stub her toe in the doorway. 

“Night?” Hunter murmurs, sticking his head out of his bunk. 

Midnight sighs, rubbing her sore toe. “Sorry, Hunter.” She murmurs, making her way over to the bunks. She carefully stands on the edge of Wrecker’s bunk, the large clone pressed up against the wall. “The doorway attacked me.” 

He hums, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “C’mere.” He scoots himself back, making room for her. 

Midnight crawls up into his bunk, laying herself next to him. He wraps an arm around her, holding her close. She tucks her head against his chest, breathing him in. He smells as he usually does, like he hasn’t showered in two missions, which was more than likely the case. 

“You’re worried.” He murmurs, lips brushing her forehead. 

“You heard.” She breathes, pressing her face against his chest. 

“You don’t have to worry, cyare.” He says, rubbing her back. “We’ll figure it out when the war ends. You know I’ll fight to keep you with us. Even if we have to go on the run. Nothing’s going to happen to us. You’re not going to have to go back to what you were before. We’ll always be with you. No matter what.” 

“Thanks, Hunter.” She whispers, wrapping an arm around him. 

She lays with him until the ship shudders its way out of hyperspace. She sighs, wishing she had more time to just lay with Hunter. She wished she had more time to just lay low with all of them. But they were still fighting a war. 

Midnight climbs down from Hunter’s bunk, making her way to her own to start getting ready. Off to fight another battle, off to risk their lives once again for the Republic. 

****

“How does it feel?” Tech asks, adjusting the plastoid once more. 

“Heavy.” 

“You’ll have to get used to that.” Tech says. “I installed magnets in your flight suit so the armor will be secure and won’t risk shifting.” 

“You also painted it.” She says, running a finger down the red line in the center of her chest. 

“Of course.” He almost looks offended. “Can’t have you walking around looking like a shiny reg.” 

Midnight smiles. “Thanks, Tech.” 

“We should see about getting you a helmet, or at least some sort of head protection.” He looks her over, adjusting his goggles. 

“You’ve done more than enough, Tech.” She says. “Like you said, it’s better than before.” 

“Come on.” Tech says, tucking his helmet under his arm. “Let’s go show the others.” 

Midnight follows him down the ramp, the others waiting outside the ship. They all go quiet when they see her, Midnight stepping closer, holding out her arms. “So, what do you think?” 

They stare at her in silence, all of them looking surprised. 

“You look...” Hunter starts, staring at her open-mouthed. 

“Hot.” Wrecker finishes for him, looking her over with a smirk on his face. 

Midnight flushes a bit, suddenly aware that five men were all looking at her with varying degrees of surprise and now desire. Except Crosshair. He had his usual scowl on his face as he stared at her, but she can see the clench in his jaw, the way he was holding that toothpick just a bit tighter between his teeth. 

“It looks good.” Echo says, running a gloved finger over the freshly painted pauldron on her shoulder. 

“Thanks. I feel safer.” 

“You look safer.” Hunter says, looking her over, less with desire and more with approval of her new armor. 

“I repurposed old training armor.” Tech says. “It’s more sturdy than the civilian armor.” 

“How do you feel?” Hunter asks. 

“Heavy.” She answers truthfully. “But I’ll get used to it.” 

Hunter holds out a rifle. “I want you to take point with Cross today.” 

She stares at the rifle. “You know sharpshooting was my worst combat score.” 

“Now’s the best time to learn. This will be a quick in and out mission. I don’t want to risk you having your abilities hindered while getting used to new armor. If anything, you’ll be more useful from a distance.” 

“Okay.” She says hesitantly, taking the rifle. “You know you’re just giving Cross more fuel to make fun of me, right?” 

“Yeah. It’ll give the rest of us a break.” 

Midnight stares at Hunter’s retreating back with her mouth open in shock. Had he really just said that? Crosshair steps up beside her, looking down at her. “You gonna stand there and gape all day? Let’s get moving, little girl.” 

Midnight closes her mouth into a pout. “This is a bad idea.” She says, following after the sharpshooter. 

“It’s a good learning experience.” Crosshair says. “Besides, you did say you learn from experiences.” 

Midnight stares at his back. “Did everyone hear that conversation?” 

She picks up the pace, already feeling the burn in her muscles from the added weight of her new armor. It was worth it though, if she could avoid those annoying little wounds from debris and shrapnel she always found herself riddled with after hard missions. She’s also silently grateful Hunter had her taking point today. She didn’t think she’d last long in a fight, not while wearing her new armor. She’d have to do some practicing. Wear it a lot to get used to its weight. 

It was definitely worth it. 

They reach the ridge overlooking the town quickly, Midnight dropping down on one knee as she looks over the edge. “That’s really far.” 

“So don’t fall.” Crosshair quips as he carefully sets up his rifle. 

Midnight makes a face before scooting back, copying his movements, trying to remember as much of her sniper training as she could. It had only been half a day spent on instruction, as it was just expected that clones would be the ones handling things like sharpshooting. 

Crosshair scoffs quietly next to her as she settles into position, his helmet likely the only reason she heard it. “No wonder you can’t shoot. Your form is wrong.” 

She looks up at him, staring at his helmet. “What do you mean?” 

He crawls over her, straddling her waist. His weight is heavy with his armor, pressing her further into the dirt. He pulls the rifle to the side, shifting her around a bit. “Don’t lay on the rifle. You need to be able to maneuver it. If you even breathe wrong while laying on it, you’ll miss your shot.” He moves her shoulders, pushing more of her weight to the side. “Keep your weight on your opposite arm, not your trigger hand.” He makes a couple more minor adjustments before sitting up straight, letting his hand drift down her spine. “There.” 

That last touch was definitely on purpose, she thinks. The position feels awkward with the plastoid digging into her. “This feels weird.” 

“I quite like this position.” Crosshair murmurs, leaning his body over hers. 

She turns to look at him, not quite able to see his helmet through her peripheral. “Well, the sooner we get this mission over with, the sooner we can do some more practice.” 

She doesn't have to see his face to know he’s smirking behind his helmet. 

“Are you two finished, yet?” Hunter’s gruff voice comes through their comms. 

“Finished and in position.” Crosshair answers, shifting off her to situate himself next to her, but not without passing a hand over her ass in the process. 

That was one thing she had learned about him in the short time since he’d joined in their arrangement. Crosshair was an ass man. Every chance he could, he’d pass a hand, sneak a squeeze. Wrecker also loved her ass, but was less subtle about it. 

“Good. If this goes well, we may get in and out without a firefight.” 

“Unlikely.” Midnight breathes, watching through her scope. They didn’t get sent on missions that weren’t firefights. That was their whole point. 

She was right, of course. She lets out a sigh, taking aim as the first hut opens, droids stepping out. It would always be a firefight for them. Always. 

****

Midnight all but limps back to the Marauder. The armor truly felt heavy now, even though she had spent most of the day laying still and firing a rifle. The mission hadn’t taken very long. There had been less droids than she’d expected, giving Tech ample time to shut down their command center. Hunter had been right, she had been more useful from a distance, as her and Crosshair had taken out the most droids. Well, Crosshair had. She had hit a few. Moving targets and ones standing still were very different. She was not great at hitting either from a distance. 

“Taking your time, little girl.” Crosshair says, having stopped to look back at her. 

“I’m moving as fast as I can.” She pouts, not making a point to walk any faster. “This armor’s heavy.” 

Crosshair slaps a hand down on her shoulder as she reaches him, nearly making her knees buckle. “If it keeps you safe...” 

He doesn’t finish the statement, but it makes her turn to look at him in surprise. “Are you saying you were worried about me?” 

Crosshair keeps his head forward, refusing to look at her. “No.” 

“You were worried!” She grins, taking his hand. “You worry about me!” 

He turns on her, grabbing her chin in his hand. “Of course I do.” His words come out harsh, shocking her for a moment. “You’re reckless, you make dumb decisions, and you shoot as well as a droid.” 

Midnight stares up at him with wide eyes. His words did bite a bit, but she was used to it. He was always a bit callous with his affection. 

“Someone has to keep you alive.” 

She stares up at his helmet for a moment before a wide grin forms on her face. “You do care about me!” 

He releases her, shaking his head with a sigh. He continues back towards the ship, leaving her behind, but she knows he’s watching. The others are already on the ship when she finally returns, though the walk hadn’t been all that long, dragging herself up the ramp. She slumps against the wall, taking a breath. She was soaked in sweat and sore and ready for a nap. 

“Wrecker!” She calls out, listening to the familiar thud of the big clone’s footsteps grow closer. 

“Yes?” He asks with a grin on his face. 

She holds her arms up, pouting. “Carry me?” 

He laughs, scooping her up into his arms easily. She huffs out a breath, leaning her head on his shoulder. She would give anything to have super strength right now. 

He carries her to her bunk, setting her gently on her bed. He offers to help remove the armor but she waves him off to go rest, working on getting it off herself. She lets each piece drop to the floor, muscles practically sighing in relief as the weight is taken, quite literally, off her shoulders. 

She makes a face when the last piece hits the floor. Her flight suit is damp with sweat from the exertion of carrying the added weight. She needed a shower. Badly. She strips out of her flight suit, leaving her in just her undershirt and panties. She grabs her towel before sneaking off down the hall to the fresher. 

Tech had taken her suggestion seriously and updated the fresher a bit so they actually had a shower. It used recycled water and always left you smelling a bit metallic afterwards but she couldn’t complain. 

Now if she could convince the guys to use it regularly...

She strips out of her undershirt, bra, and panties, starting the water. Tech could have just put in a sonic shower, but she was glad he had chosen to have actual water. Nothing quite compared to an actual shower after a hard battle. 

She climbs under the lukewarm spray, letting herself relax. She’d be sore tomorrow, though thankfully they didn’t have a next assignment yet. She’d have time to rest and practice carrying around her armor so she could get used to it faster. 

She washes her hair, missing the sound of the fresher door opening. She turns to rinse her hair under the spray, shrieking as she finds Crosshair standing behind her. 

“Kriffing-fuck Cross!” She puts a hand on her chest, trying to still her racing heart. 

“Good thing I’m not here to kill you.” He smirks. 

She shakes her head, slapping his bare chest. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

“Sorry, mesh’la.” He hums, wrapping his arms around her. “But you did promise we’d do some practicing later.” 

She gives him a look, lifting her arms to wash the soap out of her hair. “It’s gonna be a little hard to do that in the shower.” 

His smirk deepens, his face leaning down closer to hers. “Oh I don’t just plan to practice in the shower. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.” 

She smirks back at him. “Well you won’t have to try very hard. My legs are already jelly from packing that armor around.” 

She goes to wrap her arms around his neck but he’s already spinning her, plastering her against the wall. His fingers trail down her spine, along the curve of her back. She presses her cheek against the cool metal of the shower wall, letting him spread her legs. His hands cup her ass, squeezing each cheek for a moment. 

He presses his body up against hers, one of his hands slipping around the front to tease along her slit. “Already wet for me?” He murmurs in her ear. 

“We are in the shower.” She quips back, trying to look up at him. 

He immediately shoves two fingers into her, making her lift onto her toes at the sudden intrusion. “Cut the attitude, civvy. I am higher rank than you.” 

She swallows the moan rising up in her. “Sorry, sir.” 

He hums, brushing his thumb over her clit. “Good girl. You remember the safeword?” 

“Rifle.” She breathes, shuddering as he passes over her clit again. 

“Good.” He presses his face against her neck, finally starting to move his fingers. 

She braces her hands against the wall, pushing her hips back against him. He’s hard, pressing against her lower back. She grinds her hips against his hand, desperately seeking release. 

“You’re awfully needy, girl.” He growls into her ear. “My vod not doing their jobs properly?” 

She whines, legs trembling as he assaults her clit. It wasn’t that the others weren’t fucking her well, it was more that they had been so busy recently, they hadn’t had much time to fuck. She had gone far longer than she had in a while without being touched. 

“Need...need to cum.” She gasps, hurtling quickly towards her first orgasm. 

“You think you deserve to cum?” He says, pressing harder against her clit. 

“Please!” She cries, clenching around his fingers. “Please, sir!” 

He smirks. “I love it when you beg.”

He pushes his fingers against the soft spot inside of her, throwing her over the edge into her orgasm. She shakes against him, moaning out his name. He works her through her orgasm, holding her steady. 

He kisses along her shoulder, slipping his fingers from her pussy. He shuts the water off, helping her out of the shower. He tosses her towel at her and she dries off, wrapping it around herself before heading back to her bunk. Crosshair joins her moments later, his towel slung around his waist. 

She finishes drying her hair, taking in his lean figure. Despite being clones, they were all so different. Regs were all built the same. She’d spent enough time on Kamino she knew just how similar the regs were in looks, shape, and size. Her boys, though they shared the same face, were all so different. 

Crosshair steps up so they’re almost breathing the same air. They likely would be if she were taller. Crosshair, Tech, and Wrecker all towered over her. Echo and Hunter were tall to her, but the other three were practically giants. 

Crosshair grips her chin, tilting her face up. He kisses her softly, shockingly delicate for him. He always surprised her. He was usually callous and hard, but sometimes he had his moments. Usually only where she could see. 

He quickly spins her around, delivering a sharp slap to her bare ass. “On the bed.” 

She doesn't have to be told twice, already starting to get wet again. She lays herself on the bed on her stomach, mirroring her position earlier. It was his favorite position. Hunter and Wrecker liked her on her back where they could stare at her face. Tech liked trying new positions, always researching different things to try, but she knows he also likes positions where he can see her. Always analyzing, always learning. Crosshair always took her from behind. Bent her over, laid her on her stomach. It had never really been a favorite position of hers, at least until Crosshair. 

She feels the bed dip a bit, Crosshair kneeling between her spread legs. His fingers trail up her legs, making her shiver in anticipation. His hands knead her ass once more, before he’s spreading her lips to look at her glistening pussy. Crosshair had this uncanny ability to make her wet just from simple touches. 

She can practically feel his smirk, turning her upper body so she can see him. “Well? You gonna stare at me, or fuck me till I can’t walk?” 

He grabs a fistful of her hair, forcing her head down on her pillow. “Quite the mouth on you today. I think you need to be punished.” He grinds his hard length against her ass. “You don’t get to cum until I tell you.” 

Midnight shivers, already knowing her resolve is going to be weak. She wants, no, needs Crosshair and she’s not sure how long she can hold out. 

“Do you understand me?” He growls in her ear, tugging her back into an arch by her hair. 

“Yes, sir.” She whines, hands fisting her sheets in preparation. 

Crosshair sinks into her slowly, splitting her open around him as he settles himself against her. He releases her hair, letting her head fall back onto the bed. She bites at her pillow as he slowly drags himself out of her again, just to the tip. A muffled moan is torn from her lips as he snaps his hips back into hers, hard enough the bunk creaks. 

“Don’t.” He says, tugging the pillow out from under her. “I wanna hear you.” 

Sorry, Hunter, she thinks briefly, just before a loud moan is torn from her lips as he picks up a steady, hard pace. His hips snap into her so hard her body is rocked with every thrust. He keeps the brutal pace, knowing exactly what buttons to push to send her hurtling towards the edge. 

“Cross...” She moans, eyes rolling back as he drags along that spot inside her. “Please!” 

“No.” He grunts, slipping a hand under her. 

She all but cries as his fingers find her clit, the slam of his hips pressing it against the rough pads of his fingers. She arches her hips up, trying to avoid his hand but he presses her back down, forcing her clit against his fingers. 

“Cross!” She cries, hands fisting the sheets so tight she’s scared they might rip. How was she going to explain that one to the GAR? “Please, Cross, I can’t!” 

“You think you deserve to cum?” He taunts, breathing heavy from the exertion. “You think you deserve release with that attitude you’ve had all day?” 

She whines, trying to think of anything she can to ignore the sensations happening between her legs. Her old neighbor on Coruscant, the smell of the Marauder after a mission, the Kaminoans. Anything. “Please, sir!” She begs, sobbing. “Please, can I cum?” 

He hums, pressing his body against her back. “You do beg so beautifully.” He leans his head against hers, his breath puffing out against her ear. “You want to cum?” 

“Please!” She sobs, shaking from the pleasure and exertion of holding it in. “Please, please! Let me cum!” 

He continues to thrust into her, silent for a few moments before he finally takes pity on her. “Cum for me.” 

She lets go, the pleasure nearly blinding as her eyes roll back, back arching into the bed. Her legs are shaking, whole body spasming from the pleasure rushing through her. His fingers continue to circle her clit, working her through her orgasm. 

He stills his hips, letting her flutter around him until she’s nothing more than a trembling mess. He wasn’t done with her, not even close, but he can’t help but admire how beautiful she looked when she came undone around him. Kriff, he could watch that over and over. 

And he planned to. 

Taglist: 

@lo0nylexi​, @amyroswell​

[sluttywonwoo]

sunkissed || l.sk x reader

Summary: more like sunburned. on vacation with seokmin you lay out on the beach for a little too long, making for a very interesting night.

Warnings: swearing, smut

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

The sun was absolutely blinding and even though you were wearing sunglasses you couldn’t see anything. You knew your boyfriend was still stretched out in a lounge chair under the umbrella behind you, though, because you could hear him humming along to the music streaming from his phone, and that was all that mattered. 

Last time you’d been able to see him he had been hiding a copy of his new Excalibur script behind a book and feigning reading. The two of you had agreed to a no work on vacation rule, and he’d been the first to break it, but you could tell he was just so excited about his new project that you let it slide.

It was your first vacation with Seokmin, and so far it had been wonderful. You’d checked in yesterday and done a little bit of the touristy thing, but today you were content to lie on the beach for hours with no intention of moving. 

The sound of the crashing waves had lulled you to sleep a couple of times already, and you knew Seokmin would make fun of you for it later, but with the salty breeze and warm sand beneath you, you couldn’t help it. 

The water was spotted with some swimmers and surfers, but the beach itself wasn’t very crowded. You and Seokmin had planned your trip so that you’d just miss the summer break rush so everything could be a little more peaceful. 

You were pulled out of your half sleep when Seokmin’s humming stopped. You opened your eyes and tried to blink away the spots dancing at the edges of your vision when a weight dropped on top of you. You smirked as familiar lips planted a kiss to your cheek and tried to squirm away, but he had you pinned.

“Almost ready to go back up to the room, baby?” he murmured in your ear.

You nodded, and managed to twist your body underneath Seokmin to look up at him. Your eyes finally adjusted and you grinned lazily at the sight before you. His fair hair framed by the golden sunset behind him, brown eyes more dazzling than anything you’d ever seen, faint freckles starting to show on his cheeks from the sun. You consider yourself lucky that you didn’t need to leave home to see such a beautiful view.

You hadn’t been keeping track of the time, but now that you saw the sun setting over the water you realized how long you and Seokmin had been sitting out there.

“Are you hungry? Let’s get something to eat, babe.” 

“I could eat.”

“So could I,” he whispered breathily, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat. 

You’d been teasing each other with the clichés all day: being a little more thorough than necessary with rubbing sunscreen on each other, you untying the back of your bikini to sunbathe, Seokmin running into the water for point two seconds just so you could see him soaking wet and admire the way the water glistened on his body. You were on vacation, and the hotel room was beautiful. It had tub on the balcony and a breathtaking view of the blue-roofed villas cascading down the cliffs as well as the water.

However, the bed had yet to be broken in, both of you had been exhausted after exploring Akrotiri and Pyrgos, but it was something you planned to remedy tonight. 

You followed Seokmin up to the room where you both got ready for dinner at a restaurant a friend had recommended to you. You wore a short, white, linen dress and Seokmin wore a similar white button-up that he left the top buttons undone on, so that he could show off his tan.

Dinner was much like the afternoon. The details were blurry, but there was a lot of alcohol and a lot of back and forth. By sheer luck the host had seated you at a tiny booth in the back of the restaurant where you could still see the cliffs, but also sit smushed next to each other. Seokmin kept one hand on your knee throughout the meal, and if asked later, he would deny moving it any further, but you recounted the events very differently. At one point, your lips were moving in a whisper against his ear and the base of his neck and you swore Seokmin’s grip on your leg got so tight you thought you might lose circulation. 

“You want dessert, baby?” he asked when the waiter approached your table with the shiny silver menus.

“I’m good,” you managed to say, slowly, but steadily. “You?”

“What I want isn’t on the menu,” he replied in the same tone, looking directly into your eyes, ignoring how the waiter in front of your table pursed his lips.

He’d probably heard that line a thousand times, especially working in a vacation spot like this. His eyes screamed ‘just fucking say you want to eat her out and go’ but for what it was worth, the line worked on you.

“So I’ll bring the check then?” he asked when neither of you addressed him. 

“Oh, yes please. Thanks.”

After fumbling with the key and stumbling into the room, you were beyond ready to be fucked senseless when Seokmin slapped your ass cheekily, making you cry out in pain.

“Ow, Seok,” you bit out, putting your hand where his had just been. 

His face contorted with concern. “I’m so sorry, y/n! I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” you said, smoothing your dress out over your body.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

He leaned back against the dresser, arms crossed, watching you with pain in his eyes. You knew how bad he felt about hurting you, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Usually, there was pain mixed with pleasure, but this time was different. You could still feel the sting on your skin. Hesitantly, you lifted the edge of your dress and saw the unmistakable tint of a sunburn all down the back of your legs, complete with a still fading mark of a handprint on your ass.

Seokmin gasped. “Y/n.”

“What the fuck?”

“Baby, I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he apologized again.

“Neither did I,” you groaned, squinting your eyes down at your body.

“You put on sunscreen didn’t you?” he asked and you had to bite your tongue before you snapped at him. 

“Of course I did!”

“Did you reapply?”

“Yeah, once I think.”

He didn’t say anything, but you knew he was judging you. “Here, I think we have some aloe,” Seokmin said and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged moments later with the signature bottle of green gel in hand. 

“Take your dress off, baby,” he instructed and carefully helped you lift your dress over your head, careful not to let the fabric touch your body.

With a sigh, you threw yourself on the bed on your stomach, only smiling when you heard Seokmin’s little chuckle from behind you. You felt the weight shift on the bed as he climbed up next to you, and sat cross legged beside you. He pushed some of the hair out of your face with a soft grin and popped the cap on the bottle of aloe. 

You could tell he was trying his best not to come off as deflated, but you understood. You were disappointed too. You had been looking forward to getting good dick all day, and now every time you moved pain rippled through your body.

“This might be a bit cold,” Seokmin said as a disclaimer before rubbing the first bit of aloe onto your skin.

You sighed with relief as the gel instantly cooled your skin on impact. Seokmin was careful to rub it in gently, applying just enough so you wouldn’t be sticky later. He started with your calves and worked his way up, and you began to feel progressively better. 

Once he reached your thighs you fought the urge to clench them together. You knew it wasn’t the time, but your body didn’t, and your boyfriend’s fingers on your inner thighs was basically code for it. All of the feelings from the beginning of the night came rushing back and his fingers were just so close to where you wanted them. You had to actively fight the urge to moan. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he cleared his throat awkwardly as he continued to massage aloe onto your ass. “Are you, uh, wet?”

You only nodded in response, still not trusting yourself to open your mouth. 

“Do you want me to...” he trailed off, but you got the idea.

“God yes,” you sighed out and let the tension evaporate from your body as you felt Seokmin’s fingers work their way back down to your thighs, right where they had been. He was just about to give you what you wanted when you stopped him. “Wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist and he froze, afraid he had done something wrong. “Use your other hand,” you held up his right hand, covered with green goo for him to see. “I have a feeling aloe in my vagina won’t end well.”

He laughed and leaned down to kiss you. “Of course, whatever you want, baby.”

He started his ministrations again, continuing to rub aloe on your body with his right hand while he began to work two fingers inside of you. You moaned out, louder than expected at the combined relief from the gel and the pleasure from his fingers inside you. 

“Feel good?”

“So good, Seok, baby,” you breathed.

“Let me hear you,” he encouraged, inserting another finger. You gasped in response and felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Fuck, y/n, you’re so good for me,” Seokmin praised eliciting another moan from you.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer, teetering on the edge, but it wasn’t quite enough. “Seokmin,” you pleaded and looked back at him, catching him licking his lips, eyes filled with lust in the dim lighting, making you swear. “Fuck, Seok, please.”

“Hm?” he asked, ripping his attention from between your legs and meeting your eyes.

“Fuck, I need more,” you gasped. “I need you.”

“Don’t worry, angel,” he said in a raspy voice with a glint in his eye and a smirk pulling at his lips, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

i didn’t go too in depth about what he sunburn looks like on the reader because…well, it’s different for everyone. like it’s a fucking tossup whether I’ll get sunburned or not because i’m hapa lol anyway lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

send me an ask to be added to my taglist

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Preferences-Carving Pumpkins

(Author’s Note:  Ahhh, I had so much fun writing these!!!  I’m super excited for autumn, and I just needed an outlet involving our awesome squad

Warnings:  Squash being butchered, pumpkin guts....Oh, and some smooching).

Wrecker: 

   “Hey, sweetie?” Wrecker asked, and you glanced up from your selection of pumpkins.  He stood very still as his eyes flickered back and forth between two very large pumpkins that you were sure you wouldn’t be able to lift.  He stroked his chin in contemplation.

   “What’s up?” You folded your arms as you stood next to him.

   “Which one looks bigger to you?”

   You knelt down, dedicating several seconds to observing each pumpkin and taking mental measurements.  They were nearly identical in size.  “That’s a tough one.  They both look the same size to me, but if I had to choose which one I thought was bigger-” you pointed “-I’d say that one.”

   Wrecker stared at the pumpkin for a few moments before nodding.  “Yeah,” he agreed slowly.  “I’d say you’re right.”  He immediately knelt down and set to work on cutting through the stem with his viroblade.  Meanwhile, you had also reached a decision on a pumpkin, and asked your love if he wouldn’t mind picking it for you.  Wrecker was happy to oblige, cutting the stem with his viroblade and gently handing the freed pumpkin over to you.

   The others had already picked theirs and were heading over to the benches to clean and carve them.  You and Wrecker carried your pumpkins over to the nearest empty bench, claiming your tools.  Wrecker’s huge pumpkin took up half of the table.

   “So what are you going to do with your pumpkin?” you asked as you cut through the top of your pumpkin and proceeded to clean out the insides.

   “It’s a surprise!” he replied enthusiastically.

   You lifted a brow, but smiled.  “In that case, mine’s a surprise too.”

   “How about we do a big reveal when we’re done?”

   You nodded.  “I like that idea.”

   As you began to carve your design, it was hard not to notice the occasional chuckles and snickers as Wrecker set to work on his pumpkin.  Every now and then, he’d take a few steps back to look at it, huff out another fit of laughter, and then return to the project.  You were growing increasingly interested in what his would look like, but still kept your eyes on your own pumpkin.  Finally, both of you finished your projects and got ready for the big reveal.

   “Alright, on the count of three?” you prompted.

   He grinned.  “One...”

   “Two…”

   Both of you shouted, “three!” and spun your pumpkins around to face each other.  At the sight of Wrecker’s pumpkin, you burst into laughter.  It was a very silly face with big eyes and a wobbly smile, but it was carved so well, so precisely, it looked like a meme from the holonet.

   “Okay, that’s funny.”  You laughed. 

   “Yours looks good, ________!” he said, giving you a playful nudge.

   “Thanks.”  You turned to smile at him, and he pulled you into his strong arms.  His breathing picked up as he leaned into your space for a tender kiss.

   “I wanted to kiss ya’ so bad a few minutes ago,” he told you, “but I didn’t want you to think I was trying to sneak a peek at your pumpkin before it was ready.”

   You returned the kiss, lingering over his lips for a moment as you murmured, “well, you don’t have to worry about that now.”

Crosshair: 

   “Will this work?” he asked for the third time, though there wasn’t an ounce of impatience in his tone.

   “No, it needs to be more slender,” you decided with a shake of your head.  “And maybe just a tad taller?”  Crosshair backed away from the pumpkin he’d offered, eyes scanning the patch in search of one that better fit your description.  He knelt down, pushing away some leaves to reveal a pumpkin that was taller and thinner than the other one.

   “How’s this?”

   You knelt down beside him, narrowing your eyes as you tried to picture how your design would look.  It looked great in your mind.  Now, it was time to make it reality.  “Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

   Crosshair unsheathed his viroblade and swiftly cut the vine, detaching the pumpkin and handing it to you.  “There you go.”  You accepted it sweetly, unable to resist kissing him in appreciation for the gesture.  He hadn’t even questioned you on the design or complained once, only set to work on helping you find exactly what it was you wanted.  You waited for him to choose a pumpkin, which was a shorter process, before the two of you walked over to the nearest bench.

   You set to work on emptying the pumpkin of its guts, glancing over every so often to watch Crosshair at work.  Once in a while, he’d catch your gaze and notice the mischievous smile that you tried so hard to hide.

   He paused, straightening up from his task and fishing out a toothpick.  “What?”

   “Nothing,” you replied.  “Oh, uh… Can I borrow one of those?”

   He lifted a brow, but said nothing as he pulled out another toothpick and passed it to you across the table.

   “Thanks, Cross.”  You lowered your gaze, but it did nothing to hide the glint in your eye as you continued working on your pumpkin carving.  Crosshair returned to his project, though he still kept an eye on you.  At one point, he smirked at how absolutely giddy you looked.

   Finally, your pumpkin was complete.  You placed the last finishing touch, the toothpick, where it needed to be and stood back to admire it.  Crosshair’s was done moments later.

   “So, let’s see what we have here,” he said, motioning for you to show him.  You grinned and turned the pumpkin around, revealing your handiwork.  You had chosen the pumpkin’s shape with purpose.  It was the perfect canvas to carve Crosshair’s face into it, complete with the crosshairs tattoo over its right eye and a toothpick sticking out of its mouth.

   Crosshair exhaled sharply in amusement, his expression so cocky and strangely attractive as he shifted his stance.  “That’s a handsome pumpkin,” he commented.

  “Glad you think so,” you said.  “What does yours look like?”

   He chuckled, placing a hand on the top of his pumpkin to spin it around.  It had your face, and it was well-carved too.

   That’s a pretty pumpkin,” you told him with a growing smile. He met your gaze with amusement dancing in his.

   “Glad you think so.”

Hunter: 

   Hunter cut your chosen pumpkin from the vine, handing it to you with care.  “There you go, sweetheart.”

   “Thank you,” you said. 

   While you had taken your time in picking out the pumpkin you wanted, he wasn’t choosy and ended up taking the one closest to yours for himself.  Both of you went to one of the benches and set to work.  Apparently, Hunter was more interested in the carving part.  You paused to watch him take one of the tools and expertly cut the pumpkin open to remove the insides.  You found yourself resting an elbow on the table as you observed the sergeant, your pumpkin nearly forgotten altogether in the moment.

   Hunter caught your eye, smiling when he realized you’d been watching him.  He twirled the carving tool between his fingers and gave a playful wink.  Your face heated up as you pulled your pumpkin closer to your end of the table to begin working on it.

   “Need some help?” he asked, mistaking your momentary distraction from your project as uncertainty.

   “No, I’m good.  I just needed a minute to think about my design,” you said, which was also true.  “I’m not so helpless, Sergeant.”

   The use of his title in such a playful tone made him chuckle.  “Didn’t think you were, sweetheart.  I just can’t help it.”

   You rounded the bench to plant a kiss to his lips, and he welcomed your touch with arms going for your waist instantly.  “I know,” you murmured, letting him know that you took no offense.  “You’re just so used to helping everyone else.  I like that about you.”

   He exhaled, and there was no missing the slight tremble of his body.  You pulled away and headed back to your side of the bench to continue carving your design.  Every now and then, you couldn’t resist glancing over to watch Hunter skillfully carve the numbers “99” in a large aurebesh font into his pumpkin with the signature skull symbol at the top right.

   “Your design,” he spoke up, peeking over.  “Looks good, ________.”

   “Why, thank you.  I like your Bad Batch pumpkin,” you replied.

Tech: 

   “Are you certain this is the one you want?” Tech asked.  You nodded at the chosen pumpkin, and he cut the vine to hand it over to you.  “There you are, love.”

   “Thank you, Tech,” you said.

   “It is no trouble at all.  Now, the trick will be finding the right one for myself.”

   You knew how particular Tech could be about things, but you didn’t realize how seriously he would take the endeavor of selecting the “right” pumpkin.  Even so, you waited patiently, your own pumpkin in hand, for several minutes as Tech browsed rows of the patch.  You loved him for who he was, but it was hard to wait quietly anymore.  At one point, you had to set down your pumpkin because it began to weigh heavily in your arms.

   “What exactly are you looking for?” you asked.  Perhaps you could help the process along.

   “I’m looking for the pumpkin with the most aesthetic appeal- good color and symmetry are important.”

   “Oh, okay.”  You knelt down, pointing.  “What about this one?  It looks like the kind of pumpkin you’d see in a fall article on the holonet.”

   He followed your gaze, adjusting his goggles.  “I saw that one already.  It is indeed a good pumpkin, but still not quite what I’m looking for.”  You shrugged and kept looking, but none that  you saw were even as nice as the first one you’d pointed out.  Finally, you heard an exclamation from farther down the row.

   “Ah, I found it.”  Tech had been kneeling down to inspect it before making the commitment of picking it.  He approached, leaning in to give you an apologetic peck on the cheek.  “Sorry it took so long.  Thank you for waiting.”

   “It’s okay,” you chuckled.  “I’m glad you’re happy with your pumpkin.”

   Both of you went over to the benches to begin prepping the pumpkins for carving.  The rest of the squad were nearly done with theirs already, but everyone was talking and joking around, so there was no rush.  Tech chatted about varieties of squash for a few minutes as you worked.  He paused every now and then to admire your design out loud and relocate some of the tools closer to your side of the bench since he had a tendency to hog them.

   “Do you have everything you need?” he asked again.

   You nodded.  “Yes, I do.”

   “Good, good.”

   You walked over to his side of the table.  “Do you mind if I look?”

   “Not at all.  Mind you, it’s not quite finished yet.”

   You were amazed to see a little fall scene carved into the pumpkin, complete with a barn, a scarecrow, and a bare tree.  “Wow, Tech!  This is great.”

   “It’s still not done,” he reminded, as if that should make you less impressed.

   “It really looks great though,” you insisted, cupping his cheek and angling his mouth toward yours for an affectionate kiss.  That seemed to get his attention, drawing it away from fussing over what he saw as an incomplete project.  His eyes gazed at you softly through the large lenses, and his lips turned up in a smile.

   “I’m having... fun,” he said, arm tightening around your waist.

   “Me too.”

Echo:

   Echo cut your pumpkin from the patch swiftly, passing it to you, before taking a short walk down the rest of the row.  It wasn’t long before he found one that was decent-looking and knelt to cut the vine.

   “How fun is this?” you asked happily, carrying your pumpkin as you walked beside him on the way to the benches.

   “Yeah,” he agreed with a smile.  “Me and the boys did this once on leave.”  he chuckled.  “Jesse got in trouble for throwing pumpkin innards at Fives.”

   You laughed at the mental image.  “That sounds like a good time.”

   Echo shook his head, though a chuckle escaped his lips.  “If Wrecker starts throwing pumpkin guts...”

   “Knowing Wrecker, that very well may be a possibility.”  The two of you got settled at the nearest empty bench.  You glanced over to see Wrecker was indeed tossing some pumpkin insides in Crosshair’s direction, earning a grumbled “grow up, Wrecker” from his teammate.  You stifled a laugh and set to work on emptying your own pumpkin.  You and Echo worked side-by-side, absolutely content with the proximity despite bumping elbows often.

   Your heart sped up while the rest of you felt simultaneously relaxed at his side.  There was a happy calm that settled between you because you were simply together.  Yet, every time he glanced your way with that sure gaze, it nearly made you shudder.

   “Looking good,” he commented, pausing to get a better look at your nearly-complete pumpkin carving.

   With lips curling into a smile, you asked, “Me, or the pumpkin?”

   Echo chuckled.  “Both.”

   You leaned in to press a light kiss to your boyfriend’s jaw.  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

   He seemed momentarily dazed from the unexpected gesture, but he soon looked at you with a mischievous glint.  “Now, was that aimed at me, or the pumpkin?”

   You laughed.

   “I’m being serious,” he deadpanned.  “Because if I misunderstood, then this next part will be very embarrassing for me.”  He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in for a longer kiss, his lips caressing yours in a way that nearly made your knees buckle.

   “So embarrassing,” you murmured teasingly.  You separated to continue your projects, shoulders still touching.  His pumpkin carving was a typical face with triangle eyes and a gaping smile, but it was done very well.  “I like your pumpkin,” you said.

   “Thank you, m’lady.  I like your design too.”

   “Thank you.”

Omega at the Pumpkin Patch: She takes the process seriously, spending quite a bit of time choosing the right pumpkin for what she had planned.  The others were curious because she chose a pumpkin that was much wider than it was tall, and she kept it angled away from the group as she worked.  Anytime someone would venture over to check her progress, she’d quickly stand up in front of it to block the view.

After she finally beamed and announced she was done, everyone gathered around to see she had carved an image of the entire squad into the pumpkin.

[wanderinginksplot]

Riye (A Favor) - Alpha-17/f!Reader fic

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Third installment of my Alpha-17/fem!reader fic!

Word-Count: 3,100

Warnings: aggressive flirtation, Alpha is rude.

---

You carefully straightened the neckline of your shirt, eyes on the refresher mirror. It might be silly, but today marked a full month since you had come to Kamino, and you wanted to look your best.

Your outfit had survived the morning, despite a meeting with several Kaminoans who wanted updates on your progress. You had been able to deliver good news - that you were right on schedule - but a sense of doubt overshadowed any triumph you might have felt. The first deadline had been met, but the next one promised to step up the workload, and you were already feeling overwhelmed at the idea.

Still, you were determined to push the negativity out of your mind. You would figure out a better schedule to complete the work later. Today was a celebration.

The bad thing about taking more care with your appearance was that it attracted more attention than usual from the cadets. You had politely turned away two different groups of young men by the time Alpha was due to arrive in the cafeteria. Another cadet - alone, this time - was doing his best to keep from being dismissed as well.

"Was it raining when you came in, ma’am?" he asked, leaning over you. "I have flight drills after this and it gets even more dangerous in the rain."

You did your best not to smile at the obvious way he was hinting about being a pilot. "You know, I think it was raining the last time I was near a window," you told him, voice grave.

"Then I'm going to need some luck to survive," he said dramatically, flashing you a smile he clearly hoped would be charming. "I've heard a kiss from a beautiful woman is a good start. What do you think? It might help me survive the afternoon."

"I wouldn't count on it," a dark voice warned.

The cadet stood as straight as possible as Alpha approached. The captain brushed your new pilot friend aside with a twist of his armored shoulders and sat down. He proceeded to start eating, ignoring the cadet completely.

Any other cadet would have backed away, thankful that Alpha hadn't decided to throw them directly into the oceans of Kamino, but this one was more determined than most.

He winked at you from behind Alpha's head. "By the way, my name is-"

"She doesn't want to know your name," Alpha told him. "Get out of here before I decide that I want to know it."

"Very flattering, Captain," the cadet said cheekily. "But Jango's face isn't the one I want to wake up to, yeah?"

Alpha swallowed his mouthful of food and deliberately set his fork aside, standing slowly from the table. He drew up to his full height before turning around. He was taller than the cadet, forcing the younger man to look up.

"Now I'm extremely interested," Alpha said slowly, his slow and methodical voice dripping with menace. "What's your designation?"

Behind him, you winced. You hated how glaringly obvious it was that the Kaminoans considered these men products. Also, this cadet might die in front of you and that would almost certainly ruin your ability to eat in the cafeteria anymore.

"CT-7115," the cadet said with a grin.

"Ah, part of Zackra Trem's group." Alpha raised his comlink. "Trem."

"Alpha," a female voice returned immediately.

"I've got one of your pilot cadets here in the cafeteria. 7115."

"Broadside," Trem said, clearly recognizing the number. "He's one of my best, Alpha. Don't break him too badly."

"No promises," Alpha replied, turning slightly back toward Broadside. Since you were seated directly behind Alpha, you couldn't see his expression yourself, but it was enough to make Broadside's grin slip for the first time.

"I'll make you a deal," Trem offered. "I'll give him hell here and then send him back to you tonight. I'm sure he could help you demonstrate something unpleasant to your ARCs."

Alpha considered that for a long moment while Broadside shifted uncomfortably. Eventually, he conceded, "That works."

Trem laughed. "Do I even wanna know what he did to you?"

"Harassed an uninterested female."

The laughter emanating from the comlink's speakers cut off abruptly. "In that case, I think we should coordinate punishments. I'll be in touch, Captain."

The transmission cut off suddenly and Alpha looked at Broadside once more. "You had best get to your training, son."

Broadside, looking suddenly concerned, nodded and hurried away. “What was that?” you asked quietly when Alpha had sat down across from you once more.

“I told his superior officer about his behavior.”

“What more than that?” you pressed.

Alpha grinned suddenly, and it was half a snarl. “It just so happens that his superior officer is Zackra Trem. It’s not my story to tell, but she’s got more reason than most to hate that kind of osik behavior.”

You could very well guess the rest of that story. Your heart twisted for Trem, though you had never met her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nice, but she wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment,” Alpha told you, not unkindly. “Feel sorry for your little pilot. She’s a Weequay who ran with Mandalorians for the past few decades. Whatever she makes him do, it won’t be pleasant.”

You chuckled at that, trying not to actually feel sorry for Broadside. In the time you had been hanging around Alpha, most of the cadets had eased up a bit on flirting, but every now and then, someone crossed the line.

Alpha picked his fork up again and shot you an intense look. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Though your immediate instinct was to be embarrassed about being overdressed, even mildly, you rolled your eyes at him. “Anything looks like too much when everyone else wears uniforms all of the time. Remember that day I wore a necklace?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Alpha said, snorting. “A necklace. What are you, a Senator?”

“Your ideas of fancy clothing are extremely skewed, I hope you know that,” you told him, adjusting your collar again.

“Hazards of the job,” Alpha replied with a casual shrug as he returned his focus to his food. “Looks okay, though.”

You paused, staring openly at him. Had Alpha just complimented you? Surely not… The universe wouldn’t survive such unexpected behavior, not without signs that space was collapsing in on itself.

Alpha noticed you watching him and lifted an eyebrow in question while he chewed. You just shook your head and applied yourself to your own lunch, avoiding his curious eyes. Explaining your thought process there would be an intensive effort, especially if your goal was to keep him from being uncomfortable.

Fortunately, avoiding Alpha’s eyes let you notice the approaching cadet sooner than your companion did, and you had time to brace yourself before the young man - even younger than you were used to seeing - opened his mouth.

“Excuse me-”

“Kriff,” Alpha said loudly, dark brows crashing down over his eyes. “Go away, kid. I’ve already ruined one cadet’s day and I have no problem adding to the list. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“N-no, sir, of course not,” the cadet told him, nodding respectfully at you as he went on. “I wanted to talk to you. Is it true you served with General Kenobi?”

"What?" Alpha asked, sounding uncertain for the first time since you had met him. You quirked your brows, unsure of whether to be amused or concerned.

"General Kenobi," the cadet repeated. "And General Skywalker, too! I heard you went on a mission with both of them. What was it like?"

"Look, kid, I don't have time to answer all your questions about Jedi-"

"That's fine!" the cadet told him. "I already know everything there is to know about the Jedi. I want to know more about your experience, specifically."

The muscles in Alpha's jaw flexed and you quickly interrupted. "What's your name?"

"Dogma, ma'am," the cadet told you, making an apologetic face. "I know names are against regulations, but my batchers won't stop calling me that. My designation is CT-4287."

“Nice to meet you, Dogma,” you said politely.

Dogma's cheeks darkened and he gave a tight nod. "You too, ma'am."

"Stop flirting with the poor boy," Alpha chided and you gaped at the captain. So much for trying to help him.

"Dogma, I'm sure Captain Alpha would love to answer any question you have," you told the young cadet, grinning triumphantly at Alpha.

"Wait," Alpha ordered, catching at your wrist before you could stand up. His hand was ridiculously huge and you found yourself shackled by his gentle grip. "You haven't finished eating."

You grinned wider at him, slipping your wrist out from between his fingers. "I'll take it with me. Have fun, you two!"

Dogma gave a half-hearted wave while Alpha glared.

---

The rest of the afternoon was spent locked away in your office, working on the second major project you had to complete. Your concerns about the deadline were unfortunately proving correct. The icy grip of stress and fear were squeezing your heart, and you were honestly relieved when someone knocked on the door of your office.

“One moment!” you called to the unseen visitor, but they didn’t seem to hear you. Instead, they continued to pound on the door until you opened it. You were unsurprised to see Alpha on the other side, glowering down at you.

“You’re mean for a nat-born,” he grumbled, brushing you aside as he pushed into the office.

After letting the door slide closed once more, you followed him over to your desk and plopped down in your chair. Rather than sit in one of the chairs opposite you, Alpha leaned his hip against the side of your desk, much closer than you were comfortable with.

In a show of belligerence, you crossed your arms and lifted your chin as you replied, “Serves you right for being rude about my outfit.”

“I didn’t say anything bad about your clothes!” Alpha denied, befuddled.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t say anything nice about them, either,” you argued childishly, conveniently forgetting his half-compliment at lunch.

Alpha frowned. “You want me to… talk about clothing with you?”

Well. Put that way, it did sound a little silly. Of all of the things you were sure Alpha did well, deep discussions about fashion might be beyond him. Honestly, they might be beyond you, too. You sighed. “No, I don’t want you to talk about clothing with me, but I was trying to look nice today. I put a lot of effort into this.”

“I don’t understand why,” Alpha said. “You look… fine… every other day.”

“Fine,” you repeated dryly. “Thanks, I was going for fine.”

“I don’t understand what I did wrong.” You were able to hear the growing frustration in his voice. “What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe don’t act like I’m wearing a ballgown to work if I show up wearing a necklace!”

“What is a ballgown?”

You stared at Alpha, the simple question making your brain screech to a halt. It was like a chasm had opened between you, and it made you reconsider a few things. Since you had arrived on Kamino, you had treated the clone troopers as if they were people you might meet out in the galaxy, but that wasn’t exactly true. You still believed that they were people - of course you did - but you were only just coming to realize how different they were from anyone you had ever met. While the troopers shared their own experiences on Kamino and had been trained to be perfect soldiers by the time they shipped out, they were startlingly young by the standards of the rest of the galaxy.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” You fiddled with one of the many datapads littering your desk rather than meet Alpha’s intense gaze. “I am sorry for siccing Dogma on you, though.”

“You should be,” he growled. “He asked ten questions before I could shake him off. Ten!”

“Wow, that’s what? Five days worth of questions?” you teased.

“Five days for you,” Alpha told you seriously. “For anyone else, that’s more than I would ever answer.”

You were unreasonably touched by the reminder that Alpha let you learn things about him that no one else would ever know. Moved by a sudden surge of warmth for the ARC captain, you repeated your prior sentiment, but more fervently. “In that case, I honestly apologize for unleashing Dogma. If there’s anything I can do to make him back off, please let me know.”

Alpha’s stare was level and unwavering. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” you agreed immediately, not understanding what a wildly stupid idea that was. That was fine - you would learn… and it didn’t take long.

That night at dinner, Alpha came in and sat across from you, but instead of starting the meal in silence, he leaned across the table slightly to get your attention. Lowly, he asked, “Are you still willing to help me with Dogma?”

“Yes,” you agreed simply. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yeah. Flirt with me.”

You fought not to react visibly to that. Carefully keeping your face blank and your voice flat, you replied, “What.”

He leaned even closer, eyes lit with excitement. “I’ve been threatening and trying to alienate Dogma all day, but the only time he was uncomfortable was when you flirted with him.”

“I didn’t flirt with him!” you reminded him. “I just said it was nice to meet him.”

“Fine,” Alpha conceded. “We’ll just have to do better than that if we’re going to convince him to leave me alone.”

Abruptly feeling like this was the worst idea anyone had ever had, you tried to speak in your own defense. “Alpha, I don’t think this is a good idea-”

“You said you would help me,” he reminded firmly. “He’ll be here in a minute. I need your answer.”

Your heart was pounding, one of many warnings that this was a bad idea, but you nodded anyway. Alpha smiled - he actually smiled - and the expression looked menacing on his face. “Good.”

In a moment, he had circled the table to sit beside you, his huge frame making you feel ridiculously tiny in comparison. He wasn't wearing any armor at all now, and you could feel the heat of his skin through what little space there was between you.

You tried not to obviously tense as he spoke next to your ear. "There he is, get ready."

Impossibly, Alpha managed to get closer to you, tugging behind your knee slightly so that you were angled toward him. When he had finished posing you, Alpha’s large hand lifted to cradle your face. His fingers brushed over your cheekbone before trailing down to your jaw.

"My little neverd," he murmured to you, face filled with affection.

You didn't have to feign embarrassment at the warmth in his tone matched with the intense eye contact he was giving you. When you replied, you tried not to sound squeaky but only managed to sound shaky instead. "You know Mando'a is my weakness."

He laughed, a low chuckle that sent delicious chills running over your skin. “Why do you think I use it?”

“Alpha…” you chided, managing to sound mildly flirtatious.

“Come on, little one,” he urged you, voice velvet in a way you hadn’t known it could be. “Let’s go back to your- Ah, one moment, neverd. Dogma, sit down.”

You looked over to see Dogma standing at the other side of the table. You had never even noticed, your entire focus narrowed down to Alpha. Dogma looked as embarrassed as you felt. While you were focused on Dogma, Alpha’s arm snaked around you, pressing against your waist to pull you flush against his side. Your face flamed and Dogma glanced away.

“Sir, I- I’m sorry, I forgot I’m on duty tonight,” Dogma muttered, speaking so quickly it was difficult to understand him.

“Sorry to hear that, cadet,” Alpha replied gravely, flexing his fingers against your side. It made you push a little closer to him in reflex, the tip of your nose brushing the space under his jaw as you tried to look up at him. Alpha shivered, and you weren’t sure how much of the motion was acting. “Maybe later.”

Dogma gave an awkward nod and hurried off.

Alpha started laughing even before he let you go, his muscular chest shaking against your shoulder. After a moment that felt like it had stretched an hour, he pulled his arm back and slid away a bit. You immediately felt the loss of his closeness and suddenly you were horribly uncertain of what expression you were wearing. Just in case it said more than you wanted it to, you looked back at the entrance of the cafeteria.

“I feel bad,” you admitted.

"Don't," Alpha advised, looking toward the door as well. “He’ll be fine. He’s a good soldier, just a little…”

He trailed off, apparently content to let his thought stay incomplete. You glanced over to him with an eyebrow raised, but his eyes were fixed on the door. “You can see every access point in the room from here.”

“That is why I chose this spot,” you agreed.

“Switch with me tomorrow.”

“Not a chance,” you refused. “This is my spot.”

“Then I hope you like sitting next to me,” Alpha told you. Surprised, you laughed up at him and he met your eyes. “You know, I’ve never seen anyone blush on cue.”

“Hidden talent,” you explained vaguely. Alpha didn’t seem convinced, so you changed the subject. “What does neverd mean?”

“Civilian.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. “Civilian? That’s what you used as a term of endearment?”

Alpha blinked blankly at you. “What’s wrong with it? You are a civilian.”

“Yes, but,” you thought over it for a second, “-it’s not very romantic. Usually, people say things like ‘dear’ or ‘sweetheart’.”

“How should I have known that?” Alpha asked.

It was the ballgown situation all over again, and more than you were willing to tackle that day. “Well, some warning before you want me to go undercover would be helpful.”

Alpha snorted. “How much warning do you need?”

You pretended to consider that for a moment. “Two business days, minimum.”

He frowned fiercely. “If you get two full days of warning, I expect more. I need you to show up in a disguise with three different accents ready.”

“Harsh terms,” you told him with a smile. “With those negotiation skills, you’d make a great senator."

Alpha gave you the darkest scowl you had ever seen him muster. “Watch it, neverd.”

Idly, you wondered if Alpha would protect you from himself, but the amused glimmer in his dark eyes told you it would be unnecessary.

---

A/N - Pretty sure Broadside is wildly OOC, my bad. Also, sorry for the weird image for this chapter. I didn't really want the text bubbles in there, but I needed to keep Alpha's sassy hip lean.

Taglist - @imabeautifulbutterfly @cagrame @mysticalturtleenthusiast @marvel-starwars-nerd @lackofhonor

[captain-yeet]

The Worst Timing (Felix x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Keeping things to yourself is hard when your father reads minds. How do you successfully keep the secret that you're in a relationship with your family's sworn enemy?

Word count: 1.9k 

Warnings: NSFW; local man goes down under + edging, swearing, second-hand embarrassment

Author’s Note: Spicy times getting interrupted, I’m a sucker for that. Might make this a two-parter if people like it 🥺👉👈

Privacy in the Cullen household wasn’t always a given, especially with having a mind reader for a father.

Being the adopted member of Edward and Bella Cullen's strange family, you grew up knowing off the bat that your new family were vampires - gifted vampires at that - from very early on. Now that you were a legal adult and out of school, your parents and family were worried about a certain Italian governing force of vampires paying them a visit in regards to your mortality.

They didn't know however, even with your aunt's foresight, that they already knew that you were of the age to be turned. Aro had left that up to fate's hands.

Well, fate's hands being his trusted executioner, who's hands were very much occupied right now with gripping onto whatever part of you he could as the two of you kissed each other with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

"What-what if someone walks in on us?" You half asked half whined into your boyfriend's mouth.

Felix simply laughed, quietly, moving his lips from yours to your cheek. "I have very good hearing, sweetheart, if anyone's approaching the house I'll know."

Luck smiled upon you when you were born. While you didn't share the same blood of Bella, you happened to have a gift that was very similar to hers - the gift of being able to block specific thoughts and memories from someone's mind. You found out while talking with your adopted sister Renesmee one day, she tried to show you something you'd rather not know about with her gift, and your mind and body shied away from it. So much so, her projected memories couldn't get into your head.

Which led you to the helpful discovery that not only could you block Renesmee from from projecting thoughts into your mind at-will, but you could do the same with your dear old dad about your very secret Volturi boyfriend.

You'd been very sneaky, both you and Felix, at working around your family's multiple gifts to stay hidden. Today, your parents and sister were out, leaving you to your own devices. Originally you planned on sneaking Felix into your room but the two of you only made it as far as the living room.

Felix took your chin in his hand and made you look him in the eye; his own were almost pitch black from how dilated his pupils were, the ring of blood red that you'd grown so accustomed to barely visible. "Now relax, mi amore. I've got you."

His words made you feel secure.

With one arm hooked around your waist and the free one reaching down to work on what you assumed was the buckle of his belt, he turned the two of you around, leading you forward towards him. Kissing you again, you heard his pants hit the floor as Felix fell back towards onto the couch behind him, bringing you down on top of him.

You adjusted yourself so you were straddling him, your thighs on either side of his hips. Shifting your weight a little to each side, a jolt of arousal struck you as he grabbed hold of your hips and thrusted upward, his own arousal plainly obvious.

 “These,” Felix growled, reaching up for your shirt, “need to go. Now.”

 “Take them off yourself.”

To drive your sassy retort home further, you grinded against him, keeping eye contact. It gave you pleasure to watch him lose his focus, his eyes rolling to the back of his head mouth half open.

If anything, the fact that you, you, could drive a vampire wild was only turning you on further, your ego growing bigger by the second.

You didn’t have long to enjoy your smug pride at giving Felix pleasure however as you felt one of his hands move to your leg and the other staying firmly at your hip; then in the blink of an eye, you were on your back and the sound of cloth being torn caught your attention.

 You pouted up at Felix, who tossed the remnants of your now ripped shirt to the side. “I liked that shirt, y’kno- hey!”

Ignoring you, Felix easily tore off everything you were wearing waist down with terrifying ease. Throwing more torn material aside, his eyes travelled up and down your exposed body with growing lust... and a smugness of his own.

Not letting up on the fact he just ripped your clothes, you tried to glare up at him. “I liked those too.”

Felix chuckled darkly. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

 “Even that exact shirt?” you pressed, raising your eyebrows. This man brought out a bratty side to you that you didn’t know existed, and deep down you both secretly liked it.

Felix, even though he'd ever admit it, loved how bratty you got sometimes.

He rolled his eyes, moving off the couch to pull you to the other end of it. “I have money, now relax my dear Y/N.”

Cocky bastard, you thought to yourself.

Completely at his mercy, your boyfriend - or rather, your mate - admired you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. "You have no clue just how absolutely breathtaking you are to me," he said softly, slowly getting on his knees. Felix kept eye contact with you, which felt a little intimidating but also it aroused you.

Before you could open your mouth to respond you gasped as a pair of cold lips brushed against your inner thigh, placing loving kisses trailing up further and further, closer to where you needed it most.

"Felix," you whimpered, wiggling to try and get any friction where you needed it.

"I know, baby," he assured you, "let me make you feel good."

And finally, you felt his tongue make contact with your sensitive core. The moan that left your lips was as sinful as it was needy, leaving you a whimpering mess on the couch.

Felix was an attentive lover, making good use of his mouth and fingers to bring you closer to climax. You could do nothing more than buck against his tongue as he fucked you with it.

"Felix I'm - I'm gonna -"

To your dismay, he pulled out as you began to pull him in closer. His mouth covered in your own wetness, he flashed a grin at you as he rose from his crouched position. "Not yet. I want you to come when I want you to."

You sighed impatiently, feeling like you needed to cry in frustration. So, you bit your lip, trying to contain yourself.

Taking pause, Felix was suddenly at your side, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you. "If you need me to slow down, I can," he offered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “If I’m being too much...”

"You're fine," you assured him with a weak smile, "I'm just... I am, well..." you broke eye contact and stared blankly at his chest as you mumbled the next few words to leave your mouth. "I just really need to come."

He deftly opened the door to your room, chuckling at your words. "You will, I'll make sure of it, cara mia."

"You sound so sure of that," you teased as Felix lay you back onto a bed - your bed. He'd carried you into your room.

"Tease," he growled.

"And you're an incubus."

That made him snort. Felix closed his eyes, shaking his head briefly. "Only for you."

Stepping back, Felix rid himself of the shirt and boxers he wore.

Now, looking at him, you assumed he'd be big. 6'7 and built like a heavyweight champion, physically he was intimidating. Bigger than average. And boy were you correct in that assumption.

Felix wasted no time in lining himself up with your cunt; being completely soaked from what he did to you on the couch, it made it a little easier for you to take him.

Pants and moans filled the room, neither of you holding back with the sounds you were making. For you this was bliss; you couldn't imagine anything better than Felix, nothing would ever compare.

It didn't take long for you to build your climax up again. Felix could tell by how much more ragged your breathing had become.

"That's it sweetheart," he praised you, feeling his own release build up as he watched you come undone beneath him, "come for me. I want you to come for me, baby."

His words coaxed your impending orgasm along, and you wordless cried out, grabbing his shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode it out.

The sensation of your nails digging into his back brought along his own orgasm, a feral snarl ripping through his throat. You heard something snap just behind your head as Felix's thrusts slowed down.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the only sound in the room being your erratic heartbeat and breathing.

The post-sex bliss was that; blissful. Being in his arms, you felt like you were home.

Until the bliss was brought to an end.

"Y/N?" An urgent voice called out from somewhere in the house.

Your dad.

So much for Felix’s super hearing.

Locking eyes with Felix with nothing other than the shared expression of "oh shit," he deftly rolled off you, his boxers back on in a flash as you darted up from your bed to lock your bedroom door.

"Y/N Cullen answer me!" Edward's sharp voice boomed from the hallway, coming closer.

"You smell that scent too right, dude?" A second voice called out.

Uncle Emmett.

You looked back to Felix, who now at least had some of his clothes on. He gave you an apologetic look, throwing you the nearest article of clothing near him; a long shirt dress.

You quickly padded over to him and he cupped your face, stroking your cheek reassuringly with his thumb as your door began to rattle. "Go," you whispered, pointing toward your bedroom window.

"You better put that on," he replied, eyeing the door warily.

You fumbled with the dress, shoving your arms through it and quickly pulling it down over you.

Luckily for your chastity, the moment you were decent, your door came barreling down, hitting the floor with a loud thud as your father and uncle burst into your room. Their eyes widened when they saw who you were with.

"Oh shit," Emmett shouted, eyes wide looking between you and Felix.

"You motherfucker," Edward snarled in a deadly quiet tone of voice, his eyes locked solely on Felix.

You turned back to Felix, who was as tense as a spring. "Go, now!"

"I love you Y/N," he said urgently, his gaze flickering to the window.

"I know," you replied hastily. You had to buy him time, a window to escape out your actual window. You vaguely acknowledged the sound of your uncle shouting "What!?" at Felix's words.

So, you grabbed a nearby chair and launched it at the two of them.

Edward caught the chair easily, tossing it gently to the side to turn the full intensity of his glare onto you. "You, young lady, have some explaining to do. What was that... that monster doing in our home?"

You turned around, and saw the window wide open, Felix nowhere to be seen. You hoped he'd run far enough to where he could avoid your family's wrath.

Despite the clear trouble you were in, you couldn't help but giggle at the tonight of him running half dressed through the woods.

[fangirlovestuff]

More Than Meets The Eye - Steve Rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this one is for @s1utforfictionalcharacters​, who asked for a Steve x reader enemies to lovers a while ago. thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient, and i hope you enjoy!!<3

Summary: Between figuring out what was the Tesseract doing at a Hydra base and if it even is the Tesseract, you need to navigate your relationaship with one annoying, broody Captain. Honestly, you might prefer the Hydra thing. 

this isn’t set in the mcu timeline, but takes inspiration from a few mcu movies. it’s not canon compliant and everyone’s alive:)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: lowkey angst and some tension, maybe a curse word or two? tell me if i missed anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Rogers!" you heard Tony's voice over the comms, "Where the hell are you?"

"Babysitting," you heard Steve's irritated voice, not only over the comms but also behind you, right before you saw him dashing past you to punch the Hydra agent you were fighting square in the jaw.

"Well, get America's ass over here, now," Tony grunted, clearly mid-fight himself, "we need backup."

"Go!" you yelled at him, spinning to take out another agent that was coming up behind Steve, "I got this!"

"You sure?" he asked, his tone sarcastically degrading, jumping while kicking two agents simultaneously. Showoff.

"Yes," you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, "I can handle them, go help the others!"

"Alright," he grunted as he pushed off another agent before running back in the direction he came from, towards the rest of the team.

"Cap, you coming or what?" Natasha spoke on the comms, calmer than Tony, but it was obvious she's just as in need of backup as he was.

"Coming!" Steve replied, before it went relatively quiet.

You finished up disarming the rest of the agents in your wing of the building. No one was calling for you on the comms yet, so you decided to make another round in the perimeter, make sure you didn't miss anything.

God knows captain know-it-all is gonna be on your ass about it if that's the case. And honestly, you have more than enough of that as is.

As you were walking down the hallway, you noticed a strange, glowing light coming from under the doors. Upon finding it was unlocked, you opened it to reveal a room that was entirely filled with the same blueish light you had seen, and it was all coming from a desk in the middle of it.

Approaching slowly and letting your eyes time to adjust, you got closer and closer, realizing the shiny object was a peculiar blue cube. A cube you knew well, perhaps even too well.

"Guys, if you're done over there, you might wanna come to my wing. There's something you're gonna want to see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, we have to keep looking, maybe they left some blueprints or anything that can indicate how they were planning on using it," Steve commanded, "or already have."

"Wait," you said before everyone split up to follow his orders, "as important as the why they got it is, I think the first question we should be asking is how the hell they got it. I thought it was locked away in the Asgard safe?" you looked at Bruce, who out of all of you had the most contact with Thor.

"It was, the last time I checked," he frowned. "I'll see if I can contact Thor, see if he knows anything."

"You do that," Tony interjected, "the rest of you, follow Cap's order while he and I have a little chat. Shall we Rogers?" he pulled a frowning Steve aside, while you all split up to try and find any information you could salvage.

In your search, you ran into Natasha. As you were both scouring the same desk for clues, working together like a well-oiled machine, you asked, "what did Tony want from Cap?"

"Probably to ask him where the hell was he when we needed his backup," she said matter-of-factly. "Or, you know, where the heck he was. We all know Steve's proper like that," she smiled, and you let out a chuckle at her words.

"Well, that’s good," you remarked, "since he really should've been there for you guys. I don't know what was that all about," you scrunched up your nose. "Nothing here," you added, closing the drawer you were looking through.

"Yeah, here too," Natasha closed her own drawer, "let's go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day, you were all having dinner together as you went over some papers the others found at the Hydra base. Since you were already in the same place, you split the takeout, taking caution not to spill any of it.

"Cap," you asked, seeing the saltshaker was too far for you to reach, "Can you pass me th-" your words were abruptly cut by him planting it in your hand, going back to whatever it is he was reading.

"Thanks," you muttered, going back to your paperwork as well.

This might be the place to mention that pretty much ever since you joined the team, Steve exhibited a certain… coldness to you. Arrogance, indifference, call it what you want – from day one, Steve Rogers made sure you knew he was better than you.

And considering he was literally Captain America, it's not like you thought you were ever better than him in the first place.

You blended in with the rest of the team seamlessly, fighting and training among them. I mean sure, there were jokes about you being "the new kid", but it was just that – jokes. No one, or at least no one but Steve, seemed to view you as inferior.

You still fought well together, it was your job. Hell, he just passed you the salt before you even finished asking for it. Being attuned to each other's actions and attitude in that way made it all the more obvious how much he seemed to covet his leadership position, his place of dominance.

It got on your nerves. So. Much.

You see, if he were like that to everyone else on the team, so be it. But the absolute majority of it was directed towards you – the new girl. And it was clear that's all he ever saw you as. A girl.

Even that salt thing – he handed it over so impatiently, so suddenly, like one would handle an irritating child.

You had hoped he'd get over it at some point, but so far, that didn't seem to be the case. Well, you're not planning on going anywhere, so you'll both have to get over yourselves at some point.

"Hey!" Steve snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, shaking you from your reverie. "C'mon, listen up. Tony found something."

Oh well, that "some point" is probably not today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, Hydra wanted to use this," Natasha gestured at the Tesseract, "To power up a weapon they've designed?"

"That's the gist of it," Tony confirmed. "But from the looks of it, this thing is a lot more powerful than it seems. They planned on powering up a whole armored aircraft, plus all of their rifles using this cube. If that's possible, and by the looks of it, it very well might be, it's a lot stronger than you'd think."

"Wait, what do you mean their rifles as well?" you asked, your brows furrowing, "like, split this thing into pieces?"

"No, it looks like they were planning to project its power somehow, like…" Tony trailed off, struggling to explain.

"Like… Bluetooth?" you suggested.

"Yeah," tony snickered, "pretty much."

"Okay, but they didn't do that yet, right? We stopped them?" you looked around to the rest of your teammates before looking back at Tony.

"Seems like we did," Steve answered instead. "Bruce, any update on how they managed to get it?"

"Didn't hear anything back yet," the man in question shook his head, "I'll try again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bruce ended up getting an answer from Thor, telling him to come to Asgard, you immediately volunteered to go with him. It was partially because you've never actually been there, and you were very curious as to why Thor would ask Bruce to come.

But also, you could use a break from a certain Captain.

You tried to ask Bucky and Sam what his deal with you was, several times, but they just shrugged and gave you vague, unhelpful answers. You even considered trying to convince Wanda to just tell you what he thinks about you, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of bothering you so much that you'd stoop that low.

So lately, you've been just trying to avoid him, which usually worked just fine, since it's not like he was that adamant about being around you either. That is, until you said you'd go with Bruce.

"No way," he immediately objected.

"Why?" you asked, "Bruce might need some backup, and I'd like to visit Asgard. Win-win."

"We need you here, going over the papers."

"C'mon Cap, I think we both know I do better out there in the field than I do with all the blueprints. Tony's way better with that, he's the only one who does it anyway."

"So what, you're just gonna go on a field trip?" he sneered.

"No, I'm going to look out for my friend and teammate." It took everything in you to keep your voice level.

"That's nice. Cause it would be a shame if Banner had to watch your back while you went on vacation."

You scoffed. "Where did you even get that idea? I said I was gonna give Banner backup. That's the first thing I said, cause that's the most important thing. End of story."

"Fine." Steve shrugged.

"Fine?"

"Yeah, if Banner's willing to take you with him, go."

"Good," you nodded.

"Great."

Somewhat awkwardly, you shuffled out of the room to tell Bruce to count you in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha was the one to send both you and Bruce off to Asgard, the rest being otherwise occupied.

"Be safe," she told the both of you, holding each of your shoulders with one of her hands, before stepping away.

"We will," Bruce promised and you nodded, and just in time the Bifrost came down, taking the both of you where you needed to get.

Thor was the one to greet you, taking you both in for a warm hug before his face became serious.

"I didn't call you all the way here for nothing," he said, "come with me to the palace."

As you were on your way, he explained. "When you told me you encountered the Tesseract in Midgard, I immediately checked in our vault. Sure enough, there's still a Tesseract there."

"A Tesseract? I thought there was just the one," you frowned.

"We did too," Thor replied, "which is why I wanted you both to come see it for yourselves. Maybe you'd be able to point out some differences."

Getting to the palace, you wasted no time going down to the vault. And there it was – the Tesseract.

"How…" you trailed off. It looked completely identical to the one you had found on earth, the same blue tinted glint lighting up its surroundings.

"That's what I was hoping you might have an answer for," Thor sighed, his brows furrowing. "You said the one you encountered was previously in the possession of a group called… Chimera?"

"Hydra," Bruce corrected him. "And yes, we found it in one of their bases."

"Is it possible that the one we found was a fake?" you asked, lifting your eyes from the Tesseract. "Or maybe this one is the fake? Is there a way to know?"

"The only way to know is to try and use them," Bruce sighed, "but trying to wield the power of an infinity stone can be dangerous and destructive to the one who tries. It's something we should try and avoid."

"Okay," you thought, "can't we try and take this one to earth? See if maybe Tony could run some tests on them both, find us a lead as to which one's the real one?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Bruce agreed, "or at least the best one we've got. Can we take it?"

"Of course. I trust you to guard it," he looked at Bruce fondly.

"Thank you," Bruce's eyes and smile are sincere as he shakes Thor's hand.

You pick up the Tesseract tentatively, putting it in your bag and looking back up at Bruce, whose handshake with Thor was still lingering. You hated to interrupt, but you two needed to go back to earth to fill your friends in if you wanted to solve this mystery.

"Shall we?" you asked, somewhat softly.

"Yeah," Bruce shook his head slightly, "Let's go."

You trailed behind Bruce and Thor as you made your way back to the Bifrost, thinking it over.

If the Tesseract you found on earth was the fake, then why would Hydra have a fake? And if the one that was currently in your bag was the fake, then why would they just leave the real one lying around while the Avengers stormed their base? And at any case, how did they manage to make such an accurate replica?

"Thank you, Thor," you said sincerely once you reached the end of the Bifrost. "We're going to figure this out."

"I know you will," he said, and touched your shoulder affectionately.

You said your goodbyes, and then, you and Bruce started to make the journey home, until suddenly you felt a force push you out of the Bifrost, and before you knew it you landed on dirt, rolling a few times, Bruce landing a few feet away from you.

Hurriedly getting up, you helped Bruce to his feet as well, before the two of you looked around to find yourself in the middle of what seemed to be a desert, but it was like nothing you've seen before.

The sand was orange, red, much darker than it was in deserts you've been to. You and Bruce landed in some sort of valley, surrounded by large dunes of the dark sand, creating a perfect circle around you.

"Have any idea where we are?" you asked, trying to keep your cool, "Or how we got here?"

"I-"

His words were cut off by the sound of a gun cocking behind you. Instinctively, you crouched down and spun around, sending your leg out, taking the man down with a kick to his ankles.

But it wasn't enough. Before you could fully get back up, you and Bruce were already surrounded by agents, and the fight quickly escalated into a hand-to-hand one, having to take on multiple agents at a time. At some point, Bruce hulked out, but even then, you were still fighting them all simultaneously.

You barely managed to take in the glint of a knife from the corner of your eye before the felt the sharp sting of it on your ribs, your hand automatically going to hold the wound. The man started running in the other direction, which was when you realized you weren't the objective of this attack.

Your bag was.

"Bruce!" you yelled, trying to get his attention, as you started trying to run after the agent.

But before Bruce could even notice you, a deep rumble sounded through the air, the prominent crackling of thunder. You turned around just in time to see Thor coming down from the sky, Mjolnir clad tightly in his fist, sending bolts of lightning at your enemies.

You turned back and tried to keep running, but you couldn't do it fast enough, the wound in your ribcage still bleeding, and soon, the agent disappeared from sight.

You were panting when the battle died down, a mere few minutes after Thor's arrival. You didn't turn around, even as you sensed Bruce and Thor approaching you from behind.

"I lost it," you said, still unable to meet their eyes.

"They took it," Bruce said gently. "Now, let me take a look at that wound."

Well, you thought, that's not how Steve's going to see it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You lost it?" Steve asked, his disbelief clear. His eyes were trained on you, a frown on his face.

"She got hurt trying to protect it, Steve," Bruce answered before you could. "We'll get it back."

Steve's eyes didn't waver from yours, even as Bruce spoke.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted to. You cleared your throat, continuing stronger, "I did everything I could."

"I told you, you shouldn't have gone out there," he sighed, frustrated.

"Really, Cap?" you asked, "is this the time for 'I told you so's? for a hundred-year-old that's really fucking childish," you said through your teeth.

"Watch it," he snapped, "next time, maybe if you listen to me you won't get hurt."

"If I'm that bad of a soldier, Captain," you spat out, "am I not dispensable to you? Why do you even care if I get hurt? I bet it would've been just the same to you if I died but you still had the Tesseract."

Your words rendered him speechless, and you turned to walk towards the med bay. Bruce offered you his arm, but the look you sent him made it very obvious you weren't interested in company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wound healed well. You and Steve were… civil, to say the best.

You'd admit your words that day you were back from Asgard were harsh. You'd even admit that to his face, if he'd change his attitude towards you. Which he didn't, so really, maybe he deserved to hear them.

Anyways, a few days after the Asgard thing, the wound was fine, and you had an idea.

"Hey," you asked Tony, who happened to be next to you at the moment, "what if we go ask Strange?"

"What?" he looked up from the robot he was currently tinkering with.

"What if we went to Strange to ask him about the Tesseract?" you repeated, "he'd probably know more than us about this stuff."

Tony wasted no time in calling a team meeting, in which you told the others your idea about reaching out to Strange.

"That's a really good idea," Steve said.

Taken aback, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he continued, "I'm coming with you."

Yep, it was way too good to be true.

"Why?" you asked, frowning. "I thought Tony would come, since he's already had a run-in with him before."

"Yes, but I think we can agree he's not the most diplomatic person out there," Steve smirked.

"I'm right here," Tony remarked dryly.

Steve paid him no mind and continued, "And besides, he's pretty much the only one except Bruce that knows enough to figure out Hydra's blueprints, and we still need all hands on deck in that front.  So, I'm coming with you," he finished in a tone that left no room for argument.

You considered objecting anyways, but knew whatever you'd say would sound childish and tactless, so you simply nodded at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since the Sanctum Dr. Strange usually resided in was in New York, there was no need for Steve and you to take the Quinjet, but you did take a car from Tony's collection, which Steve drove. The car ride was filled with quite the uncomfortable silence, but at least it was better than arguing, right?

Small victories.

When Steve parked the car about a block away from the Sanctum, you both got out swiftly, blending right in with your civilian clothes, and making your way to the doorstep.

There, Steve knocked on the door hesitantly. You both listened, but there was no answer. You held onto the handle and managed to open the unlocked door easily. You exchanged a look with Steve, both of you on high alert, and entered through the door, Steve closing it behind you.

You both silently stood in the threshold, contemplating your next move. Eventually, you took a tentative step forward, and just then a red object whipped right in front of your eyes, making you stumble backwards, right into Steve. You quickly turned around to apologize, but before you noticed it the red fabric was wrapped tightly around your arms, holding them tight against your torso. Steve was in a similar predicament, and since the cape wasn’t that long, you two were left tied face to face and extremely close to each other.

You tried to wiggle out of the fabric's hold, but it was almost like it tightened with your every move, adjusting itself accordingly. You struggled against it, trying to move even the slightest bit, but it wouldn't budge. You sighed, looking up at Steve.

Oh my god, he was way closer than you'd realized. His wide frame towering over you, you swallowed dryly before you whispered, "What now?"

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps carried through the halls, and soon enough, Dr. Stephen Strange was descending down the stairs of the New York Sanctum to greet you.

"Hello," he said, his face indifferent, "I wasn't expecting you."

"Well, we weren't expected to get so… tied up, so that makes three of us," Steve remarked, prompting you to chuckle.

"Hello, Dr. Strange," you introduced yourself to him, "the Captain and I were wondering if you could help us with some… Tesseract trouble."

"Sounds awful," he smirked slightly. "Follow me," he started going up the stairs again and you exchanged a look with Steve. "Oh right," he gestured with his hand, and the red fabric detangled itself from the two of you, and turned out to be a cloak as it wrapped around Strange's shoulders. "I almost forgot," the man chuckled, "Now come on."

You and Steve exchanged another look as you rubbed your arm where the cloak dug into it a little, before following Strange up the stairs and into the library, where he offered you two chairs to sit in before sitting down in front of you. In the air. He was sitting down while floating.

Still less weird than the cloak, in your opinion.

"So," he started, "what, uh, Tesseract trouble are you having, exactly?"

Steve and you took turns explaining the situation to him, from finding a Tesseract in a Hydra base to losing the one that was previously in Asgard. Steve, to your relief and wonder, said nothing about it being your fault, but just said it wasn't in your possession anymore.

"So," you summed up, "we were wondering if you knew how anyone could manage to replicate the Tesseract this well, and how can we tell which one's the fake one. Without using them, of course."

"Well, those are great questions. I don't know of another way to determine if an infinity stone is indeed real besides taking the risk and trying to use it, so I can't help you with that. But as for the fake, I believe opening the Tesseracts will provide a good enough answer. You see, the Tesseract isn't that hard to fake. Might be a little expensive, sure, but some lights and plastic and you're set, and from what I understand Hydra isn't exactly struggling financially. But," he sighed, "you can’t fake an infinity stone. For most people, once you'll come in direct contact with it, you'll feel its power, and also its destructive properties."

"So the only way to know if an infinity stone is real is to risk touching it?" Steve asked.

"As far as I know of, yes," Strange nodded.

"Thank you," you said, "for your help. We sure get back to the compound, but we'll let you know if there are any big developments."

When Steve and you got back to the compound, everyone was already waiting for you, and you told them what Strange told you. Together, you all went to open the tesseract you had found in the Hydra base.

"Be careful not to touch what's inside," you warned, and Tony put of his Iron Man arm before breaking the side of the glowing cube, opening it to find…

A bunch of wires and lightbulbs. They didn't even try to make it look like an infinity stone.

"Well, the one in Asgard could've also been a fake," Natasha shrugged. "This doesn't really tell us anything. C'mon guys, we'll continue the search tomorrow," she touched your shoulder comfortingly before slipping away.

You were about to do the same when you saw Steve fidgeting with his sleeve, around where the cloak was wrapped around him. You walked up to him.

"You okay?" you asked, expecting him to brush you off.

"Yeah, I just think this cape held on a little too strong," he chuckled, removing his hand to reveal a stain on the fabric of his right suit sleeve, on you knew all too well was blood.

"Oh my god," you frowned. "C'mon, I'll help you clean it up," you gestured towards the med bay.

The walk there was brief and silent, and when you got there, you told Steve to sit down before ripping his sleeve enough to see the shallow wound.

"You don't have to do this," Steve said, as you looked for some gauze pad and wet it with water.

"I know," you said, "but since I'm the reason we needed to go there in the first place, I am doing this."

"You know it's not your fault, right? You couldn’t have known he'd have a magical cape that ties up people."

"That's not what I was talking about," you mumbled, before cleaning the wound gently.

Steve sighed. "I guess I do owe you an apology for the Asgard thing. I acted like a jerk. I'm sorry."

"No, you were right," you chuckled bitterly, "it's my fault we lost what might've been the real space stone to Hydra. You were just the only one willing to admit that."

"Well, I hope you know what you said about me then wasn't true. I care. You know, if you get hurt. And I wouldn't want anyone to die so I can have anything."

"I know," you said dryly, "you're too perfect for that."

You finished cleaning the wound and started bandaging it.

"That's not- god, I really do have a way with words, don't I? you probably hate me by now."

"I don't hate you, Steve," you looked up from his arm to his eyes, and he smiled at you. "Relax, it doesn't mean I like you all that much either," you smirked, prompting him to laugh.

"Yeah, that's fair, I guess. Thank you," he gestured to his now bandaged arm.

"Sure," you sent a small smile his way before walking away.

Maybe Steve Rogers wasn't that bad after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, scratch that, Steve Rogers was the worst.

The conversation actually started out civil. Nice, even.

"Hey, Cap," you started, "do you know if Bruce found anything on the wiring in the fake Tesseract yet?"

"Nope," he turned to face you.

"Oh. Well, thanks," you smiled, "I'll just…" you gestured at the exit, but he stopped you.

"Wait. Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Can you…" he gestured at the empty chair in front of him, and you sat down.

"About the whole Tesseract thing," he started, "I think you should consider sitting this one out."

"What?" you frowned.

"I just…" he sighed, "I think it might be better if you sat this one out."

"Steve, I found the Tesseract in the first place," you said, getting angrier by the second, "I'm not backing down from this."

"You found the fake Tesseract," he corrected, "and lost what might have been the real one."

"I thought you said it wasn't on me."

"It's not, but still."

"I don't get it, a few days ago you were telling me it wasn't my fault and now you're benching me because of it?"

"I just… you're clearly very invested in this-"

"Which is why I deserve to stay on this mission," you cut him off, fighting to keep your voice level.

"Which is why I think you should sit it out," he ignored you, "because you don't need to get yourself hurt for this."

"I'm an Avenger just like you," you snapped, "you might get hurt as well. So might everyone else. I don't get why I'm any different."

"I told you, because you're too emotionally invested," he insisted, his tone rising.

"Oh, you're benching me cause I'm 'emotional'? really? That's your excuse?"

"That's not an excuse, I-"

"No, tell me, Steve, what's your problem with me? Just spit it out, clearly you have one. What have I done to you to make you hate me?" you were yelling now, exasperated at his flawed logic.

"I don't hate you."

"That's all you have to say?" you scoffed. "You know what? If you're letting whatever your problem is with me to get in the way of the mission, maybe you're the emotional one."

The charged atmosphere was interrupted by Natasha's frame showing up in the doorway.

"Hey guys," she started, before looking between the two of you. "Is this a bad time?" she waited a second before shrugging, "Doesn't matter. There are sightings of suspicious activity midtown, we think it can be Hydra. We gotta move, be down in five," she stated, before walking down the hallway, leaving Steve and you alone once more.

"I-" he started.

"Let's go," you said at the same time, before simply turning away to go and suit up. You had a battle to win, no matter what he thought.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

"So," Tony started once you were all on the Quinjet, "Here's what we know – Hydra is probably in the possession of the real Tesseract, since we just got word of people seeing a big aircraft over midtown. My guess, they wanted to test the new weapons out before using them on a larger scale," he said, "which is why it would be the best thing to stop them now."

You split up into groups, Tony, Wanda and Sam going after the aircraft, Bucky and Steve go one way on the ground, you and Natasha the other. Thanking every god you knew you weren't paired up with Steve, you and Natasha ran and turned into a large square, starting to point people away from the steady stream of Hydra agents that was coming your way.

You and Natasha were both fighting off the agents together, most of the civilians already cleared from the area, when suddenly, they just… stopped, all in unison.

"Avengers," a voice with a heavy accent boomed through the air, presumably from the aircraft, magnified by speakers, "I know what you're here for," the voice chuckled. "Come and get it."

All at once, the Hydra agents in front of you pulled out something from their bags, or the pockets of their jackets, and it took you a second to realize what it is – exact replicas of the Tesseract. Dozens of them, maybe even hundreds.

You looked over at Natasha, who was just as exasperated as you were. "We gotta break these things," she said, and you nodded in understanding, charging at the men and women with renewed energy.

Because this was your chance to fix what you broke, to make things right. To show Steve you're better than your mistakes.

That was the mantra that was going in your head, as you smashed Tesseract after Tesseract, even as you found nothing but wires, you kept repeating it – fix what you broke.

Slowly but surely, you and Natasha tackled and defeated more and more agents, moving closer towards where they were coming from – the aircraft, that was lowering more and more, sending out more agents, in a wave that seemed never ending.

Expect when you got closer, you noticed that there was a staircase going down from it. A staircase that at the top of stood a small an in old fashioned army clothes, holding, how not, a small, glowing cube in his hand.

Your vision zeroed in on him. You had a target.

Barely stopping to disarm the other agents, you quickly made your way through the crowd of agents surrounding you, until you were right at the bottom of the staircase. You looked up to see the man still standing on top, smiling at the chaos unraveling at his feet.

You decided to take advantage of the fact he hasn't seen you yet, and climbed the staircase from the bottom side, hanging on to creases and bumps, to keep the advantage. When you got to the top, you tried to swing yourself over the rails. You would've fallen down if a hand wouldn't have reached out, catching your arm and throwing you back on the staircase, right side up.

"Ah, the new kid," the man snickered above you, "I've heard about you. Were you really the one they sent here?"

"No one sent me," you hissed as you got up. "Now hand over the stone and it'll be much more pleasant for you."

"So much spite," he laughed, "but alas, I don't think I will, sweetheart."

"Whatever you say," you delivered a poignant kick to his knee, "sweetheart."

You tried to punch him, but this time he was quicker, avoiding your blow and landing one of his own on your shoulder. You shrugged it off and continued to try and pry the stone from his hands. The struggle was drawing attention, and Natasha yelled at you to watch out just in time before a Hydra agent from down there shot at you, only missing narrowly.

You continued to fight the man, who was stronger than he let on, considering he was fending you off with only one hand, but you also had getting shot to worry about, which was in his favor.

At last, you managed to knock the Tesseract out of his hand, and it fell to the ground in a shattering sound. Out of the broken pieces, there were no wires to be seen, only a stone.

Bingo.

You heard Steve shout something at you from far down, but you weren't paying attention, instead diving for the stone, grasping it in your hand, along with some shards of glass that cut you, but you couldn't care less, because this was it.

Fix what you broke.

You concentrated with all your might of the stone, its power almost physically throbbing in your hand, along with the excruciating pain, but you didn't care.

Fix what you broke.

Your breathing became labored, the pain near insufferable when you finally did it – opened a portal. You didn't know where it led, but the important thing is, it wasn't here. You threw the stone away with all the power you had left in you, praying it would reach so far you'd never see it again.

Fix. What. You. Broke.

Just in time, the portal closed, and you sighed gratefully. The pain was starting to take over now, your mind dancing on the edge of consciousness when you heard voices coming towards you. You wanted to tell them you were fine, but you found yourself falling to the ground, registering the pain of the fall before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up, your first thought was that the light's too bright. It felt almost like a hangover, but way worse, and

"I didn't even drink anything," you said, before breaking into a dry cough.

In a second, Steve was there by your side with a glass of water, holding it to your mouth. You took some small sips until you calmed down enough to remember that while no, you didn't drink anything, you did wield the power of an infinity stone, which means it's a miracle you're even alive.

So really, you should be thankful all you ended up with is an awful hangover. Of sorts. A magical hangover.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, breaking you from your reverie, and making you meet his gaze with yours.

"As much as I can be," you replied, your gaze falling to the blanket that was laid on you. "how long was I out?"

"About 18 hours," he said solemnly, "we didn't… we weren't sure if you'd wake up," he admitted, his voice dropping below a whisper by the end.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," you joked. Despite everything Steve put you through, for some reason you couldn't stand to see him this devastated.

"No, don't-" he sighed, "no one wants to get rid of you. Least of all me. Hell, thinking I'd lost you and it was my fault… hurt more than I could imagine."

"It wouldn't have been your fault, if I, you know," you shrugged, "that was my choice. I had to fix what I broke."

"No, you didn't," he insisted, his eyes snapping up to meet yours once more, "because you didn't break anything. None of this was your fault, and yet you fixed it, alone. You risked wielding the power of an infinity stone to keep earth safe, alone. You shouldn't have been alone."

"It worked out just fine. Besides, what difference would it have made, one more injured person?"

"If I was quick enough… I don't believe the stone could've taken both of us down."

"Us?" you smirked, "I didn't know we were an 'us'. But it's fine, I can deal with that, I guess," you shrugged, and Steve chuckled. You couldn't tell if you were imagining it, but it looked like the slightest of blushes was sprinkled on his cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

As a part of getting you back to normal, you started training again, moderately at first. But as you regained your strength, your training was almost as intense as it was before. Or maybe, even more intense.

You see, before that, you weren't training with Steve.

Since you didn't really get off to a good start, you'd always train with the others – Nat, Wanda, Sam… other non-super-soldier humans with a very human self-discipline, meaning that you could take breaks and chat in between reps.

Alas, those days were far behind you. I mean, not that far, that's just kind of dramatic, but you get it; you trained with Steve way more often and it was a nightmare.

You didn't know what standards Steve held for his other friends, but if he's like that with everyone then maybe it was better off not being his friend.

"What was that?" Steve asked, his eyes not moving from the timer, which looked comically small in his large hands.

"I said," you repeated between labored breaths and fast push-ups, "if you're like this with all your friends maybe I was better off not being one."

"Who said you are?" he shot back with a smirk, "and… time!"

You collapsed on the training room mattress, letting out a deep breath. "how much was that?"

"98 pushups in one minute," he stated, "not bad."

"Okay, Mr. captain super soldier," you breathed. "You know, maybe I should go back to doing these with Sam. A human being with normal people achievements," you sighed, faux-dreamily.

"I thought you wanted to get better?" Steve chuckled, extending his hand out to help you off the mattress.

"I'll tell him you said that," you smirked and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your touch lingered for the briefest of moments before you let go of his hand.

"Be my guest," Steve shot back, before taking a couple of sparring staffs off the wall, handing you one. An unusual technique in battle, but you found that practicing them with Steve provided a decent challenge to you both, since you were better with it than he was.

With both of you getting into a fighting stance, you started the match by dashing forward, trying to land one on his shoulder, but he quickly spun to the side, accompanied by a move of his staff that, fortunately for you, was a bit poorly aimed, thus only hit you in the arm.

You continued this back and forth for the next few minutes, one graceful move answered by a steady block from the other side, almost like a delicate dance. After a while, you felt yourself getting a little tired, and knew if you didn't end it now, he'd win.

And well, you just can't give him that kind of satisfaction.

You quickly planted your staff on the ground, using the momentum to jump up and wrap your legs around his neck, using your weight to push him down onto the mattress. You'll have to thank Natasha for that move.

His staff fell from his hand as he hit the floor, and you used your advantage to pin his arms above his head, making sure to lean enough of your weight on his torso so he couldn't move. You were both panting from the exertion of the fight, and you could feel a bead of sweat traveling down your back.  

He smirked up at you. "Did Nat teach you that one?"

"Maybe," you raised your eyebrow in amusement. "But I executed it to perfection."

"You sure?" he asked, and before you could answer he broke free from your grasp, flipping the both of you so your torso was pinned below him, catching your arms the same way you did to him moments ago.

Breathing heavily, your tongue darted out to wet your lips. "Well, maybe not perfection," you murmured, "but I'd say I did pretty well. You're in nice shape for a hundred-year-old," you slowly grinned up at him.

"Just nice?" he mock pouted, not moving from his position above you.

"Yeah," you smirked, "from what I've seen."

"Well, maybe you've seen nothing yet," he suggested with a quirk of his eyebrow, his head lowering even closer to yours.

"Maybe," you said softly, standing your ground. His eyes were boring into yours, you could hear the shallow sound of his breath, feel it even.

Closing the distance between you was almost more impulse than an actual aware decision. Your lips met his soft ones, his momentum pushing you back against the mattress, your head hitting it with a soft thud you paid no mind to. One of his hands left yours, coming to cup your cheek as his tongue hesitantly entered your mouth, continuing eagerly when you let out a hum of approval, one of your hand sneaking around his neck and tangling in the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling slightly.

When you finally parted, your breaths were once again labored, but for an entirely different reason now.

"Okay, maybe you are in good shape," you rasped, shrugging as well as you could.

He chuckled before his eyes met yours. "You don't hate me," he stated incredulously.

"I already told you I didn't. I take it back, maybe old age is getting to you," you giggled.

He groaned lightly, making your laughter grow stronger.

Okay, so Steve Rogers wasn't the worst. Final verdict.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

i’d love to hear your thoughts!!<3

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[gffa]

Do you think one could follow the Jedi Code/Lifestyle in real life as a positive manner of living or do you think it only works in Star Wars? I asked this on r/Mawinstallation and the answers I got were either:

''The Jedi code is oppressive so no'' ( this was the most upvoted answer )

''The Jedi code works but only for the Jedi''

''The Jedi code requires the force to work and since the force doesn't exist in the real world, the code cannot work''

And finally, I got only a single reply that said

''Yes, the Jedi code does work in real life, that's the entire point of Star Wars''.

What is your take on this?

This is going to be sort of a long, roundabout answer, but the short version is: In the finer details, we're not space psychics, but as a general idea? Yes. First of all, what even IS the Jedi Code?  Are we talking about the whole “there is no emotion, there is peace”/”emotion, yet peace” meditation mantra, which we should point out is nowhere in the movies or TV shows, but is entirely in the novels and comics supplementary material?  Are we talking about a more generalized idea of Jedi philosophy?  And what, precisely, does that mean?  I mean, what’s oppressive about it and what scene evidences that that’s what the Jedi taught? Second, there are two talks that George Lucas gave that I think really illustrate this view of emotional navigation and how that impacts Star Wars and the Force: There’s the writers meeting of The Clone Wars where he talks about the light side and the dark side and there’s an Academy of Achievement Speech from 2013 where he talks about joy vs pleasure:     “Happiness is pleasure and happiness is joy. It can be either one, you add them up and it can be the uber category of happiness.     “Pleasure is short lived. It lasts an hour, it lasts a minute, it lasts a month. It peaks and then it goes down–it peaks very high, but the next time you want to get that same peak you have to do it twice as much. It’s like drugs, you have to keep doing it because it insulates itself. No matter what it is, whether you’re shopping or you’re engaged in any other kind of pleasure. It all has the same quality about it.     “On the other hand is joy and joy is the thing that doesn’t go as high as pleasure, in terms of your emotional reaction. But it stays with you. Joy is something you can recall, pleasure you can’t.  So the secret is that, even though it’s not as intense as pleasure, the joy will last you a lot longer.     “People who get the pleasure they keep saying, ‘Well, if I can just get richer and get more cars–!’ You’ll never relive the moment you got your first car, that’s it, that’s the highest peak. Yes, you could get three Ferraris and a new gulf stream jet and maybe you’ll get close. But you have to keep going and eventually you’ll run out.  You just can’t do it, it doesn’t work.     “If you’re trying to sustain that level of peak pleasure, you’re doomed. It’s a very American idea, but it just can’t happen. You just let it go. Peak.  Break. Pleasure is fun it’s great, but you can’t keep it going forever.     “Just accept the fact that it’s here and it’s gone, and maybe again it’ll come back and you’ll get to do it again. Joy lasts forever. Pleasure is purely self-centered. It’s all about your pleasure, it’s about you. It’s a selfish self-centered emotion, that’s created by self-centered motive of greed.     “Joy is compassion, joy is giving yourself to somebody else or something else. And it’s the kind of thing that is in it’s subtlty and lowness more powerful than pleasure.  If you get hung up on pleasure you’re doomed. If you pursue joy you will find everlasting happiness.”  –George Lucas And how I like to compare that to The Hijacking of the American Mind by Robert Lustig, MD, MSL, which is a book about how corporations have hijacked our pleasure centers to make us focused on reward over pleasure.  It talks about the exact same concepts, with only slight word adjustments, but otherwise might as well be verbatim: “At this point it’s essential to define and clarify what I mean by these two words—pleasure and happiness—which can mean different things to different people.     “Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary defines “pleasure” as “enjoyment or satisfaction derived from what is to one’s liking”; or “gratification”; or “reward.” While “pleasure” has a multitude of synonyms, it is this phenomenon of reward that we will explore, as scientists have elaborated a specific “reward pathway” in the brain, and we now understand the neuroscience of its regulation. Conversely, “happiness” is defined as “the quality or state of being happy”; or “joy”; or “contentment.” While there are many synonyms for “happiness,” it is the phenomenon that Aristotle originally referred to as eudemonia, or the internal experience of contentment, that we will parse in this book. Contentment is the lowest baseline level of happiness, the state in which it’s not necessary to seek more. In the movie Lovers and Other Strangers (1970), middle-aged married couple Beatrice Arthur and Richard Castellano were asked the question “Are you happy?”—to which they responded, “Happy? Who’s happy? We’re content.” Scientists now understand that there is a specific “contentment pathway” that is completely separate from the pleasure or reward pathway in the brain and under completely different regulation. Pleasure (reward) is the emotional state where your brain says, This feels good—I want more, while happiness (contentment) is the emotional state where your brain says, This feels good—I don’t want or need any more.     “Reward and contentment are both positive emotions, highly valued by humans, and both reasons for initiative and personal betterment. It’s hard to be happy if you derive no pleasure for your efforts—but this is exactly what is seen in the various forms of addiction. Conversely, if you are perennially discontent, as is so often seen in patients with clinical depression, you may lose the impetus to better your social position in life, and it’s virtually impossible to derive reward for your efforts. Reward and contentment rely on the presence of the other. Nonetheless, they are decidedly different phenomena. Yet both have been slowly and mysteriously vanishing from our global ethos as the prevalence of addiction and depression continues to climb.     “Drumroll … without further ado, behold the seven differences between reward and contentment: Reward is short-lived (about an hour, like a good meal). Get it, experience it, and get over it. Why do you think you can’t remember what you ate for dinner yesterday? Conversely, contentment lasts much longer (weeks to months to years). It’s what happens when you have a working marriage or watch your teenager graduate from high school. And if you experience contentment from a sense of achievement or purpose, the chances are that you will feel it for a long time to come, perhaps even the rest of your life.Reward is visceral in terms of excitement (e.g., a casino, a football game, or a strip club). It activates the body’s fight-or-flight system, which causes blood pressure and heart rate to go up. Conversely, contentment is ethereal and calming (e.g., listening to soothing music or watching the waves of the ocean). It makes your heart rate slow and your blood pressure decline.       - “ Reward can be achieved with different substances (e.g., heroin, nicotine, cocaine, caffeine, alcohol, and of course sugar). Each stimulates the reward center of the brain. Some are legal, some are not. Conversely, contentment is not achievable with substance use. Rather, contentment is usually achieved with deeds (like graduating from college or having a child who can navigate his or her own path in life).       - “Reward occurs with the process of taking (like from a casino). Gambling is definitely a high: when you win, it is fundamentally rewarding, both viscerally and economically. But go back to the same table the next day. Maybe you’ll feel a jolt of excitement to try again. But there’s no glow, no lasting feeling from the night before. Or go buy a nice dress at Macy’s. Then try it on again a month later. Does it generate the same enthusiasm? Conversely, contentment is often generated through giving (like giving money to a charity, or giving your time to your child, or devoting time and energy to a worthwhile project).       - Reward is yours and yours alone. Your sense of reward does not immediately impact anyone else. Conversely, your contentment, or lack of it, often impacts other people directly and can impact society at large. Those who are extremely unhappy (the Columbine shooters) can take their unhappiness out on others. It should be said at this point that pleasure and happiness are by no means mutually exclusive. A dinner at the Bay Area Michelin three-star restaurant the French Laundry can likely generate simultaneous pleasure for you from the stellar food and wine but can also generate contentment from the shared experience with spouse, family, or friends, and then possibly a bit of unhappiness when the bill arrives.       - Reward when unchecked can lead us into misery, like addiction. Too much substance use (food, drugs, nicotine, alcohol) or compulsive behaviors (gambling, shopping, surfing the internet, sex) will overload the reward pathway and lead not just to dejection, destitution, and disease but not uncommonly death as well. Conversely, walking in the woods or playing with your grandchildren or pets (as long as you don’t have to clean up after them) could bring contentment and keep you from being miserable in the first place.       - Last and most important, reward is driven by dopamine, and contentment by serotonin. Each is a neurotransmitter—a biochemical manufactured in the brain that drives feelings and emotions—but the two couldn’t be more different. Although dopamine and serotonin drive separate brain processes, it is where they overlap and how they influence each other that generates the action in this story. Two separate chemicals, two separate brain pathways, two separate regulatory schemes, and two separate physiological and psychological outcomes. How and where these two chemicals work, and how they work either in concert or in opposition to each other, is the holy grail in the ultimate quest for both pleasure and happiness.”                                – Robert Lustig, MD, MSL And then lets add in what Dave Filoni has said about the Force and the core themes of Star Wars:     "In the end, it’s about fundamentally becoming selfless moreso than selfish.  It seems so simple, but it’s so hard to do.  And when you’re tempted by the dark side, you don’t overcome it once in life and then you’re good.  It’s a constant.  And that’s what, really, Star Wars is about and what I think George wanted people to know.  That to be a good person and to really feel better about your life and experience life fully you have to let go of everything you fear to lose. Because then you can’t be controlled.        “But when you fear, fear is the path to the dark side, it’s also the shadow of greed, because greed makes you covet things, greed makes you surround yourself with all these things that make you feel comfortable in the moment, but they don’t really make you happy.  And then, when you’re afraid of something, it makes you angry, when you get angry, you start to hate something, sometimes you don’t even know why.  When you hate, do you often know why you hate?  No, you direct it at things and then you hate it.  And it’s hard because anger can be a strength at times, but you can’t use it in such a selfish way, it can be a destroyer then.        “These are the core things of Star Wars.“  –Dave Filoni So, the core things of Star Wars and the Jedi teachings (because Jedi teachings are basically almost word for word how GL described how the Force works) can very much be a reflection of real world teachings and ways to live by, because all of the above are about how GL viewed the world and what he wanted to put into his movies. Further, Jedi teachings are basically just reworded Buddhism + Acceptance and Commitment Therapy.  And both of those are very livable by our real world standards, if you so choose.  GL was very much about how SW had themes that were meant to be picked up on by the audience and even DF has said this:  “ Jedi have the ability to turn the tide, to make a significant moment, to give hope where there’s none.  That’s their ultimate role to play, to be this example of selflessness.  And that’s what makes them a hero, when no one else can match that heroic thing.  And then our job is to emulate that, to use that example, and further our own lives.” --Dave Filoni Ultimately, the Jedi are specifically focused on disciplining themselves (which GL has said is the only way to overcome the dark side, in that TCW writers’ meeting), probably to a degree most of us wouldn’t have the room to devote to, but that doesn’t mean that the broader strokes aren’t meant to be applicable to our lives or don’t echo real world teachings.