#was the weak place and the breaking place for them

[tangyneon]

truth be told... i have got no irl experience, so i did this based on what i think my future (dream) s/o should be like, and how i imagine myself to be in my selfships with my s/o. 😊✨

take this dating personality quiz and rb with your results bc im nosy and always curious !!!!!

(this is mine)

open tags as always <3

[iydiamartinx]

UNEXPECTED GUESTS IV

jason x reader, platonic!damian wayne, ft. batfam

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto & @omi-resources word count: 2k synopsis: Jason’s secret relationship is discovered by Damian—who keeps showing up uninvited. Jason’s patience is tested, popcorn is made, but at least Damian brought cinnamon rolls. a/n: Here it is! The final part! Hope Y'all enjoyed! Also I hope I got everyone who asked to be on the tag list, if I missed you I am so sorry!

Bruce lifted a brow at the sound of heavy footsteps and the sight of Jason sauntering into the manor kitchen, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder like he owned the place.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pausing mid-bite, fork suspended halfway to his mouth.

Jason didn’t break stride. “Gee, thanks for the warm welcome,” he drawled, dropping the duffle beside a chair with a solid thud.

Bruce sighed, setting down his utensils. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just you have your own place.”

Jason shrugged, nonchalant. “Maybe I just felt like spending some quality time with dear old Dad.”

Bruce’s gaze narrowed, eyes flicking over him like a scanner calibrating for irregularities. Jason was calm. Casual. Civil. Voluntarily in the manor. Something was wrong.

Jason would rather set himself on fire than willingly spend an evening under Bruce’s roof. He was being too… not-Jason. Polite, even. Pleasant. 

Clone? Possibly. Cyborg? Wouldn’t be the first time. A mind-wiped doppelgänger sent to spy on the family?

Then it hit him.

He paused in growing horror…

Did he finally kill the Joker?

Was that why he was in a good mood?

Bruce stared at him. Jason just blinked back innocently, which only made it worse.

No, something was definitely wrong.

“He’s lying,” came a voice from the doorway, smooth and amused.

Dick entered, mug of tea in hand and an unbothered grin on his face. “It’s because everyone’s crashing at his place.”

Now that he mentioned it, the manor had been suspiciously quiet lately.

Bruce glanced between them. “Why?”

Jason froze, his posture stiffening like someone expecting a sniper shot. His eyes flicked to Dick, silently warning him to shut up.

Dick, of course, did not. If anything, his grin widened.

Bruce’s gaze sharpened. “Why?” he repeated.

Jason shot Dick a glare, the kind that promised swift and bloody vengeance, but the little shit was immune. He grinned wider, practically radiating delight.

“Oh, because of his girlfriend,” Dick said, drawing out the word with far too much delight.

It had been unspoken—agreed upon, even—that whatever chaos was unfolding at Jason’s apartment stayed there. The last thing he needed was his personal life dragged into the manor spotlight and have Bruce interrogating his girlfriend. He was already hanging on to his sanity by the thinnest of threads.

But Dick had two fatal weaknesses: an insatiable love for family bonding… and a disturbing amount of joy in watching Jason suffer.

“You should see him at home,” Dick went on, far too pleased with himself. “Total domestic bliss. Folding laundry. Cooking dinner. It’s like watching a lion try to do ballet.”

“Shut the fuck up, dickhead,” Jason snapped, his voice a low snarl.

Bruce paused, fork halfway to his mouth.

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a Batarang.

Very slowly—deliberately—Bruce looked up. His eyes locked on Jason.

Jason had a what?

Before anyone could speak, Alfred appeared beside Dick with the poise of a man who had seen war, death, and teenage Bruce Wayne at his most dramatic—and had emerged utterly unshaken.

“Master Jason is bringing her for dinner, of course,” Alfred said, smooth as ever, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Master Jason is not!” Jason barked, visibly horrified.

Alfred raised a brow. 

Finding out you’d been invited to dinner at Wayne Manor wasn’t exactly a shock. If anything, you’d been expecting it. Most of the family already knew you—had dropped by Jason’s place uninvited enough times that introductions were inevitable. It was only a matter of time before Bruce caught wind of your existence too.

What surprised you more was how not nervous you felt.

Jason, on the other hand, looked like he was mentally preparing for battle.

As the iron gates of Wayne Manor creaked open, you watched him through the passenger-side mirror. Your six-foot-two, weapons-grade boyfriend was pacing beside the car like a man about to face execution. His hair was a mess—freshly wrecked from his own anxious hands—and while the tousled look worked unfairly well for him, it didn’t do much to hide the storm brewing behind his eyes.

“Just… don’t let them suck you into anything,” he muttered, half to himself, half to the universe. “Don’t be too funny. Or too smart.”

You arched a brow. “So… you want me to be dislikable?”

“What? No! I mean—maybe? I don’t know!” he snapped, throwing his arms up. “If you are, maybe they’ll finally stop showing up at my place uninvited. But I don’t want them to hate you either.”

He paused, then groaned. “God. Don’t mention cinnamon rolls. Damian’s still holding a grudge because I ate the last batch.”

You laughed. “Of course he is.”

Jason stopped pacing only long enough to glare at the front door like it personally offended him. “Just… don’t be nervous. We’ll be in and out. Quick and painless.”

You blinked slowly. “Jason. I’m not nervous. You’re the one spiraling.”

By this point, you weren’t even sure he realized what he was saying anymore. He was just venting aloud—burning nervous energy like a fuse inching toward a powder keg.

With a soft breath of amusement, you stepped into his path, catching his hand in yours before he could wear a trench into the manor’s immaculate brickwork.

“Babe,” you said, gently squeezing his fingers. “I’m fine. I got this. You’re the only one falling apart here.”

So you reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was brief—grounding—but it worked. His shoulders dropped an inch, the rigid line of his jaw easing ever so slightly.

When you pulled back, you were already smiling. You laced your fingers through his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Ready?” you asked.

Jason exhaled, long and slow, like he was about to walk into enemy territory. Which, for him, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“Fuck no.”

Alfred greeted you at the door with the warmth of a man welcoming a long-lost friend.

“Miss Y/N,” he said, voice smooth with genuine affection. “We’re delighted to have you.”

You barely had time to smile before Damian appeared—materialized really—at your side.

“You’re sitting next to me.”

You blinked. “Hello to you too,” you said dryly.

He didn’t acknowledge it. His attention was already on the dining table as he pulled out a chair for you with the gravity of someone bestowing a great honour.

 “What? No! That’s my girlfriend, demon spawn.” Jason snapped. 

Damian didn’t even flinch. He turned to Jason with a droll look, sharp and effortless. “And I pity her for that fact every day.”

You muffled a snort behind your hand and slid gracefully into the offered seat.

“Thank you, Damian,” you said, smoothing your napkin onto your lap with a smirk. Then, with mock innocence, you patted the open chair on your other side. “There’s still one free spot left.”

Jason moved toward it—clearly ready to reclaim his territory—only for Dick to slide in smoothly at the last second.

“Y/N!” Dick beamed, overly bright, already leaning his elbow on the back of your chair like he belonged there.

Jason’s jaw ticked. “Oh no you don’t, Dickhead.”

With all the grace of a man well-versed in brotherly warfare, he hauled Dick up by the collar and dragged him out of the seat with zero ceremony.

“Hey!” Dick protested, arms flailing like a cat being relocated. But Jason was already dropping into the seat beside you, triumphant.

Dick slunk across the table with a wounded pout, muttering something about uncalled-for violence.

You raised a brow at your boyfriend. “You know we practically live together. You see me every day.”

Jason scowled. “So do these assholes. They break into my apartment every day.”

Damian arched a brow from your other side, utterly unbothered. “Careful, Todd. Green isn’t your color.”

Dinner was… everything Jason feared.

Tim asked how you two met—twice—just to watch Jason twitch with increasing irritation.

Stephanie demanded relationship details with the energy of a late-night talk show host, bouncing in her seat as she eagerly listened to answer her questions.

Cass watched you in silence, head tilted with a quiet, steady kind of approval. She didn’t need words. She’d already decided she liked you.

And Dick?

Dick was the worst.

He had a seemingly endless supply of Jason’s most humiliating childhood stories, and he recited them with theatrical flair, smirking each time your laughter made Jason’s eye twitch.

Meanwhile, Bruce sat at the head of the table like a statue carved from shadow and marble. He didn’t speak much—hardly at all, in fact—he mostly just watched. His gaze never drifted far from you, sharp and evaluating, like he was measuring you against an invisible checklist. Determining whether you were worthy of his son.

Eventually, between the second course and murmured side conversations, Bruce set down his glass with a soft clink against the china.

“Y/N.”

Jason stiffened like someone had pulled a gun on him. You felt it in the sharp shift of his knee against yours beneath the table. Without looking, you placed a calming hand there.

Jason’s fork paused mid-air. “Bruce…”

You didn’t flinch. You turned to meet his gaze, calmly. “Yes?”

Bruce didn’t blink. “You’ve been with Jason for how long?”

“Almost a year,” you answered easily. “Give or take a few near-death experiences.”

Dick leaned back in his chair with a grin. “That’s basically a vow renewal in this family.”

Bruce continued, tone even. “And you know.”

It wasn’t phrased like a question. You nodded anyway. “Didn’t take long.”

“You stayed.”

“I did.”

Jason muttered, “Why does this feel like a background check with extra judgment?”

Bruce studied you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. “You’re aware of the risks.”

“I’ve had them explained,” you said dryly. “Repeatedly. With charts.”

Tim snorted into his drink. “Please tell me one of them was color-coded.”

“That was mine,” Damian muttered, arms crossed.

That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of Bruce’s mouth. It wasn’t often anyone got Damian’s seal of approval. 

Bruce went quiet for a moment, and the weight of his silence settled over the table. He studied you like a strategist surveying a battlefield.

Finally, he spoke. “You’re either incredibly brave… or incredibly foolish.”

You shrugged, unbothered. “Probably both. It’s part of the application process, right?”

Cass smiled behind her teacup. Steph stared at you with wide, glittering eyes and whispered to Jason, “Marry her.”

At that, something flickered in Bruce’s expression—approval, maybe. Something harder to name. Something deeper.

He nodded once, almost to himself. “You’ll be here for Sunday dinners moving forward.”

Jason nearly choked on his drink. “Are you serious?”

You ignored him, smiling sweetly. “Of course.”

“Babe!”

You patted his thigh. “Ignore him. We’ll be there.”

Dick leaned over, grinning at Jason’s dramatics. “Wow. He likes her more than he likes you.”

Bruce didn’t answer.

Which, of course, meant: yes.

After dinner, Alfred insisted on tea.

Damian insisted on sitting next to you again—claimed it was “for tactical proximity,” though he was clearly just making sure no one else got the seat first.

Stephanie suggested you move into the manor under the guise of “Jason’s health,” citing stress levels and his lack of basic nutrition, and how beneficial it would be for the two of you two live here. Cass offered you her bedroom if the “shoebox you’re living in” ever became unbearable. Tim asked if you could cook, already planning meal rotations. And Dick—of course—invited you to game night next week with a wink and a warning: “Lose to Damian at your own risk.”

Jason looked like he was developing a migraine.

He sat beside you on the long couch in the grand living room, shoulders hunched like a man awaiting trial. Laughter echoed around the walls—walls he used to call cold and empty. 

Now they rang with bickering, teasing, warmth.

You nudged him gently with your elbow, barely hiding your smile. “Still want to fake my death and move to the Alps?”

Jason glanced at you.

Then at Damian, practically glued to your side like an emotionally constipated barnacle.

Then at Tim, who was deep in concentration trying to download your favorite show onto the Batcomputer, muttering about file formats and codec errors.

Then at Bruce—stoic, silent Bruce—watching his family with a small, unmistakable smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jason sighed. A long, suffering sound, that was too dramatic to be sincere.

“…Yes.”

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Tag list: @stormz369, @gothamhappiness, @remmyswritings, @dominazina, @nicverse, @roastyyytoastyyy, @sunnyfield, @snowy-violets, @sh0jun, @chicarandom11, @oooof-ifellforyou, @esposadomd, @bmyva1entine, @salvatt1, @ghost-candyyy, @sofiafantasies, @leogf

[arixella]

Don’t Leave Me Too

╰┈➤ pairing: Luffy x female! reader

a/n: : I have so many drafts to post lol

summary: After nearly losing you in battle, Luffy is forced to confront his deepest fears — but this time, he holds on and refuses to let you slip away.

wc: 730

contains: angst turn into fluff, post-battle, desperate promises, traumatic flashbacks, and emotionally wrecked Luffy.

The battle was over.

Smoke curled into the sky, the distant island city still crackling from the aftermath. The enemy was down, the objective secured, and the crew was alive — mostly.

Except… you weren’t with them.

“(Y/N) should’ve been right behind me,” Zoro said, his brows furrowed as the crew regrouped at the Sunny’s edge.

“She probably got pushed back by the explosion near the tower,” Sanji muttered, scanning the horizon with narrowed eyes. “We need to find her. Now.”

Luffy stood silently at the railing, his knuckles white as he gripped it.

“She’s strong,” Nami said softly, more for herself than anyone else.

“She wouldn’t just disappear,” Robin added, though even her calm tone wavered slightly.

Luffy didn’t say anything. He just stared at the burning skyline, jaw clenched, body shaking with tension. His haki had flared without him meaning to — it always did when his emotions boiled too hot. And right now, he was scared.

He told himself over and over again: She’s fine. She’s okay. She promised she wouldn’t die.

But then he saw you.

Stumbling out of the smoke, hand pressed against your side, shirt soaked with blood.

Time froze.

His heart dropped.

He was already sprinting toward you, the world a blur. “(Y/N)!!”

You looked up, forcing a smile — a weak one, but a smile nonetheless. “I’m okay,” you lied, voice raspy.

But he could see it. You were pale. Shaking. Bleeding. Barely standing.

You collapsed into his arms.

The moment you touched him, the memories hit him like a wave.

Ace’s blood. Ace saying it didn’t hurt. Ace falling.

“No,” Luffy whispered, his voice breaking as he sank to his knees with you in his arms. “No. Not again. Please.”

“Luffy…” you tried to speak, but it was too much. Your body was done pretending.

“CHOPPER!!” His scream tore through the air like thunder. “SOMEBODY HELP HER!”

Chopper was already running, the rest of the crew behind him, but Luffy couldn’t focus on anything except you. His arms wrapped around you tighter, like he could physically hold your soul in place.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said quickly, desperately. “You have to be okay. You can’t die. You promised.”

Your lips trembled. “I’m not—gonna—”

“Don’t say anything,” he begged, his face buried against your neck. “Don’t talk. Just stay. Stay with me. Please.”

His shoulders were shaking now, full-on trembling as Chopper began working on the wound. “Massive blood loss… internal bleeding—shit—she held this in too long—”

Nami knelt next to Luffy, hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, Luffy. Let Chopper do his job.”

“She’s going to make it,” Robin added firmly. “But you have to breathe. You’re scaring her.”

“She was bleeding this whole time,” Luffy muttered, eyes wide and unfocused. “She was hurting, and I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it.”

“She didn’t want you to worry,” Zoro said lowly, arms crossed, jaw tight. “Just like someone else we knew.”

Luffy flinched.

Ace again. Smiling through the pain. Dying with a grin.

“She’s not him,” Sanji said gently, lighting a cigarette with trembling fingers. “Don’t put her in that grave.”

Luffy looked down at you, your hand still holding onto his shirt.

Alive.

Still warm.

Still here.

He let out a shaky breath and touched his forehead to yours.

“You’re not leaving me,” he whispered. “Not like that. Not ever.”

You blinked up at him weakly. “Wouldn’t… dream of it…”

He cracked the faintest smile through his tears.

You woke up later in the infirmary, sore but safe.

Luffy hadn’t left your side.

His hat was resting on your pillow. His hand never let go of yours. And the crew was sleeping in chairs and corners all around the room, refusing to leave either of you alone.

When you stirred, Luffy jolted awake instantly.

“Hey,” you rasped.

“Hey.” His voice was rough, but his smile was warm — and real. “You scared the crap outta me.”

“Guess I’m making it up to you with extra cuddles, huh?”

“Damn right you are,” he said, crawling up next to you gently, arms wrapping around you like he’d never let go again.

Because he wouldn’t.

♡♡♡

© 2025 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.

[aethercoreheart]

rafayel | 3:03 PM

“You alright there?”

“I’m fine,” Rafayel grunts in reply, without looking at you.

You stay silent as you watch him struggle to slide a large cardboard box off of the highest shelf in the storage closet. His hands are barely able to grasp at the sides, and your heart hammers against your rib cage when you see the box almost tip over, threatening to crush him. You have no idea what the contents of the box are, but you do know that it is heavy – you had tried moving it during one of your spring cleaning sessions, and it would not budge.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

Rafayel halts in his current attempt to get the box, and he sighs, exasperated. He places his hands on his hips, and he glares at the box, his lips pursing in an annoyed pout.

“There’s a brush in there that I want to get,” he tells you, still staring daggers into his cardboard nemesis. “It’s made with special horse hair. I haven’t used it in a while, but I know it’s in there.”

“You need some help?” you ask him, but your question is in vain. You know what his answer is going to be.

“I’m fine,” he repeats himself. “It’s not that heavy.” He turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re doubting my strength.”

You shrug, and you start to head back to the living area, where you were watching a rerun of a variety show. “Okay, suit yourself,” you say as you leave Rafayel, letting him return to his struggles.

A few minutes of watching your show passes, and you can still hear grunts and sighs coming from down the hall, with the occasional cuss thrown in. You bite your lip, and you stand from the couch, sighing as you head to the dining area. 

You’re about to drag one of the dining chairs to the storage closet when you hear a series of sounds come from down the hallway. They follow each other so closely, that you aren’t able to tell if they all occurred simultaneously, or which sound followed what. All you do know is that you hear a strangled yelp, a loud thud, and what you think is the sickening sound of crunching bones.

You release the chair, and you run down to the hallway, adrenaline fueling your steps. You turn the corner to see Rafayel, on the ground, the cardboard box sitting square on his chest. Your eyes go wide, and you see him look up at you, his own eyes sending a thousand desperate pleas. He tries to speak, but all that happens is that his eyes almost bulge out of his skull, and his voice comes out in weak, incomprehensible wheezes.

“Rafayel!”

You race to him, and you kneel at his side, placing both your hands on the box. You attempt to move it off his chest, but it stays where it is, potentially crushing Rafayel’s ribs and everything underneath them.

“You’re going to have to help me,” you tell him, attempting to hide the panic in your voice.

Rafayel nods in response, and his hands grasp at the sides of the box. With your combined efforts, you are able to tip the box over his body, and to the floor. It lands next to him with another dull thud, and you hear him take a deep breath before breaking out into a series of coughs.

You try to help him stand, but when you take his arm, he grimaces, and his mouth opens. Instead of words, he lets out a series of strangled choking noises. You help him lay on the floor again before running back to the living area to grab your phone and dial for an ambulance. 

—

“Okay, now, easy,” you croon as you help Rafayel sit down on the bed.

He inhales sharply, but he manages to sit and lift his feet onto the bed without incident. He gives you a dazed grin, and he pats the space next to him on the bed with a heavy arm. You oblige, and you sit down next to him, placing a gentle hand on his thigh. 

“The doctor said you were lucky to escape with just a few fractured ribs,” you tell him. “But you have to rest for a few weeks. Nothing strenuous. Bed rest for now.”

He nods at your words, but you can’t tell if he’s actually comprehending them. You are thankful that the painkillers the doctor had given him are working - instead of being in agony, Rafayel is completely blissed out, his eyes glazed over and his mouth occasionally hanging wide open. Whatever the doctor had given him is strong as hell. 

You sigh, stand from the bed, and you look down at him again. He gives you a dopey and somewhat clumsy grin, and you return it with an amused smirk.

“Okay, I’m going to make you some soup so that you can take your painkillers.” You start to head out of the bedroom. “Just call me if you need anything.”

Rafayel nods again, but you see his eyelids start to droop, and his jaw start to go slack again. You turn away from him, and stifle a giggle behind your hand, reminding yourself to film him the next time you go back to him.

—

You hear your name being called in Rafayel’s drawn-out whine. How many times has he called you in the past hour? This has to be the eleventh time. What does he want now?

You sigh and you place your knife back onto the counter, and you leave your onion behind, half of it still needing to be diced. You begrudgingly trudge into the bedroom, and you grit your teeth before poking your head through the doorway.

“What is it?” you ask Rafayel, and despite your earnest attempt, a little bit of spite seeps into your voice. 

He looks up at you from his book. He is surrounded by snacks, plastic water bottles, and empty cans of fruit juice. Somewhat sheepishly, he closes the book, and he places it onto the bedside table, grunting as he does so. He brushes away the empty packet of whatever snack he was eating in the immediate space next to him, and he pats the now empty space in an invitation for you to sit down.

“I’m-ah... I’m getting a little lonely.”

You pause in the doorway, and you’re tempted to tell him to suck it up so that you can go back to making dinner. But the way he looks at you with pleading eyes, the way he pushes his bottom lip out into a pout, causes a warm and soft feeling to spread in your chest, so you inhale deeply, and sit down next to him on the bed.

Rafayel shifts slightly closer to you, and he lets a little groan out, suggesting that the small action had caused him some discomfort. He sighs, and he leans in to you, placing his head on your shoulder. You wrap your arm around him, and you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I know... I’m so needy,” he whispers, his eyes refusing to meet yours. You feel your heart melt just a little, and you press your lips into his hair.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I... don’t really mind.” You rub small circles into his shoulder with your thumb, scolding yourself internally for telling him such a bold-faced lie.

The two of you remain silent for the next few moments, with you still massaging his arm with your fingers. You think that Rafayel has fallen asleep again, and you’re about to gently push him away from you when he stirs, and a quiet mutter escapes his lips.

“I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger, haven’t I?”

He laughs, his chuckles filling the previously silent room, and you scoff at him before shoving him away. His laughter ceases abruptly, and is quickly replaced by painful groans.

“Rafayel, oh my god, I’m so sorry-”

“Just kidding,” he says before breaking out into giggles again. You roll your eyes as you stand from the bed.

“I’m gonna go finish making dinner so that you can take your medication again. I think I liked it better when you were drugged up and quiet.”

[ibelongtoseverussnape]

Retired!Severus Snape is a menace. To have you as his young little wife? Pfff! Sign him up! He'd come home from doing backyard work without magic because with magic is too easy. And he hates easy things. It makes everyone want to do it and it loses it's sense of uniqueness, you know? That's one of the reasons of why he married you. Saw you with your friends in a bar and he knew you weren't easy. But as we mentioned before, he loves hard things. That man can handle a challenge, and after being a teacher since the beginning of his thirtys...God knows. God knows.

His stamina is truly mesmerizing. His words. The way he carries himself and carries you when you can't...hot. BURNING HOT. We love a man that can be his own and yours fully, if you know what I mean.

And in bed? You know things will get NASTY when the lights turn red. You could be sitting in bed with a book, in your pj's after a long day of house cleaning, sitting with a cup of ice cold water in your night table and the AC on after a shower; but when that man does nothing but lay an eye on you...Sorry, Odysseus. He's going to be the one to make Troy burn and put off the fire in the same night.

Retired!Severus Snape would eat anything you make. And I mean anything. So when he started to gain some weight, he started to hit the gym. You tremble everytime it comes to mind. And he was slowly...developping...a dad bod.

A DAD BOD.

Retired!Severus Snape loves cuddles. Triply adores smex. ✨️smex✨️

Loves to have your attention and will do anything to get it. And in that spicy time, he doesn't let you look away from his two obsidian eyes as he makes you slowly tremble and break with every thrust he makes you take.

Retired!Severus Snape holds your face in his hands as his thrusts become handy, making you look up at him as his lips form a pout and he speaks dirty things to you, knowing you can't handle it for too long.

He loves when you read new things and want to try them out. When you told him to try the leaning thing on the doorframe...?

...

..

.

A moment of silence, please.

Hardcore. All night long. Like animals.

Next question.

Or when you told him the "Think fast, I'm a random girl." And tried to kiss him? He pushed you outside the house and locked you out. That night he had to make it up to you even tho it was your idea, because he knows how girl math works, and even if it was YOUR IDEA, HE locked YOU, OUTSIDE! He didn't use his wand. It was too easy to push you outside. What would you do? Push him? And he also made sure you didn't have your wand with you, so that way, it was easy for him to lock you out, but not easy for you to come in. He doesn't some easy things, you won't have have it easy either.

Retired!Severus Snape who LOVES sundresses. Not on anyone. But on you. They're too easy to just simply raise up the skirt and pum. Let's go. He doesn't argue with this type of easy. He's a weak man in this element. Don't tempt him, he'll fall. Without thinking twice. And he gets drunk on you easily too.

When your father found out you had married an older man...he didn't take it very well, and after he came to your house, your husband's rest place, to bother the person who is his peace. That will certainly not end well. The next day your father texted you saying he was dissapointed. Saying Severus was probably just a pervert who was taking advantage of you and he would be soon tired of you and you'd return back to your parents home. That morning, Severus had woken up early, and when your phone dinged he saw the message first.

Suffice to say he spent the whole morning between your legs. Just because of that message. "Only weak men give up. Quitting is easy, pumpkin." He muttered and looked you straight in the eye, taking your hand and burrying it in his hair, eating you out like a starved man. "And I," he a long, lewd lick in between your folds "Don't like," another one, pushing a little deeper this time "Easy things."

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Thirty-Six: Restless

Chapter WC: 10,464

Chapter Tags/Warnings: fluff, but this is VERY hurt/comfort heavy and i did make myself cry multiple times writing it so beware

A/N: These two will do literally everything but tell each other they love each other smh (i say as if this isn't my fault). Btw I changed the Lieutenant's name bc I decided I'm keeping him.

Have to plug this art of Goldie @ghostymarni made for me today too. LOOK AT HER!!!

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Duro, 20 BBY

Dawn breaks, and Dash and the engineers are no closer to fortifying the shield generator than they were when you arrived. It's been hours since the power to the main generator came back online, and there's still no sign of an attack. And while you're grateful for the time to prepare, it's hard not to be suspicious, and more than a little wary. The shield only allows so many dropships in per hour, but the longer you wait for the droids to attack, the larger the force must be.

It's not as if you've done nothing with your time, however. You and Snap had spent the last few hours crawling the city with Screwball, noting choke points and potential weak spots and doing a little sightseeing.

Screwball had found evidence of tunnels below the city, and while you hadn't found any access points yet, they would provide an excellent secondary route should the droids break through the main gate and flood the city from above. Your only concern is whether they're stable, and how extensive they are. There could be a dozen access points, or none. You simply have no way of knowing.

The streets are filled with clones as your squads move from block to block, each passing minute bringing more troopers and more supplies into the city. The footprint of Urdur is chaotic, a maze of streets and alleyways that weave through the ancient buildings making navigating the city difficult, even with a map. It didn't help that the structures were crumbling, with half-collapsed floors and missing staircases, leaving you to take detours and double back often. 

But as difficult as it was to navigate for you, it will be worse for the droids. And that's exactly what you're counting on. The narrow roads and sharp corners make for perfect ambush locations, and with the help of the 882nd, who had arrived a short while ago, the entire city will be a deathtrap.

And though you're sure it'll all go to hell the moment the fighting starts, you also have a plan.

After hours of searching, the three of you returned to the generator and joined the others, sharing the information and brainstorming strategy. There was some debate about how to deploy the men, and you and Rex ended up butting heads a bit over how best to defend the city, with the Captain advocating for a centralized position and you suggesting a more distributed approach.

In the end, you had won the battle. The 882nd as the 419th's heavy infantry regiment would be posted up outside the walls, while the 501st would man the walls, keeping the enemy from entering the city. The 103rd regiment, which were comprised of the 419th's scouting, demolitions, and recon regiments, would be spread out throughout the city, covering the key points of access and providing a flexible response should the droids break through the wall. Malestrom Company, led by Snap, would stay at the shield generator site as a last line of defense.

And you? Well, you were going to do what you did best. Hunt down the enemy and take them apart.

With the plan in place, there wasn't much else to do but wait.

And wait you have.

You've been pacing the perimeter of the generator for hours, a nervous energy driving you forward. It's not the waiting that bothers you. It's the lack of information. You have no idea where the droids are or how big their forces could be, and every minute that passes brings with it the fear that you're unprepared for the coming fight.

You know you should be patient. That this is the right decision. The only option. But the longer the silence stretches, the more on exhausted and on edge you become, and you know you're not the only one.

You'd commanded Dash to take a break and let Fuse and the others take over for a bit, and though he had protested, he hadn't argued for very much longer. He'd collapsed onto the nearest cot and was out like a light within minutes, several of the other members of Maelstrom spread out around him. The rest were scattered throughout the room, most asleep or close to it, a quiet murmur of voices the only sign that they were awake at all.

You, on the other hand, are too keyed up to sleep, the adrenaline in your system refusing to allow it. You watch them from above on a catwalk overlooking the generator, leaning against the railing and scanning the space for anything out of place. But all you see is a group of soldiers who have worked themselves to the bone in order to make this mission a success.

It's been months since your men were able to truly rest, months since they'd stepped foot on a planet not actively trying to kill them, and the reality of the war is wearing on them all, not just you. You've always known the toll the conflict would take, but the constant fighting has made it easier to ignore, to push away the thoughts and emotions and focus on the mission. But seeing your troops like this, so tired and worn, has reminded you of just how bad things are, and how far you've all come in such a short time.

More than anything, you wish they were all back on Coruscant. Back home. Safe.

But they're not. And the war won't end anytime soon.

You sigh and push the guilt away, letting go of the anger and resentment that comes with it. The only thing you can do is resolve to speak to the Council when this is over, and stand your ground until they agree to let the 419th take a vacation, a proper break from the war and the violence and the death. It's the least you can do for your men. For your brothers.

Your hands tap a restless rhythm on the railing, and your gaze drifts around the room, watching the steady rise and fall of the troopers' chests and the subtle twitches and shifts of their bodies. It's almost mesmerizing, and you find yourself zoning out, letting the world drift away and your mind wander.

You know you should sleep. You promised Snap you would, and you don't intend to draw his ire again. But you also know that the echoes of your vision will come if you do. 

You can already feel them waiting, the faintest whisper like an itch at the back of your mind, one that will come to the fore if you dare close your eyes. A city burning, Rex holding a blaster to your chest, his eyes filled with grief and pain, and the two of you pulling the trigger together, your fingers entwined. The feeling is visceral and painful, and no matter how hard you try, you can't shake the memory.

It's not a new sensation, nor is it the first time it's plagued you, but the visions are stronger now, and more frequent. It's a premonition, and you know it. A glimpse of the future.  One shrouded in a heavy layer of some meaning you've failed to yet grasp. 

Or maybe you're just being stubborn, refusing to believe it will come true despite everything telling you otherwise. You don't know. All you know is that the thought of losing your friends—of being the cause of their deaths—is too much.

Your hand drifts up to your neck, slipping inside your robes to grab hold of Yaddle's pendant. The feeling of it between your fingers is soothing, a small comfort that helps keep the shadows at bay. You're not sure how much time passes, the seconds bleeding into minutes and beyond, but the pendant remains firmly clasped in your hand, the familiar weight grounding you in the present.

"Hey."

You look over your shoulder to see Rex approaching, his helmet tucked under his arm and a cup of caf in his free hand. He offers the mug to you with a raised brow, and you feel a flutter in your chest at the sight. It's a small thing, a kind gesture, but the thoughtfulness of the act isn't lost on you.

"You're my hero," you murmur as you accept the mug, your fingers brushing his in the process. He huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

"Don't speak so soon. I couldn't find you any sugar rations."

The corners of his mouth lift as you take your first sip, and your nose wrinkles as the bitter liquid hits your tongue. You force yourself to swallow, a shiver running through your body at the acrid taste, and Rex chuckles at your expression, his eyes twinkling.

"It's not that bad," he teases.

"You're right. It's worse."

Rex snorts and rolls his eyes. "Well, if you don't want it..."

"I didn't say that," you grumble, clutching the mug protectively and holding it to your chest. Rex shakes his head in mock exasperation and leans against the railing next to you. "Thanks. Really. I can use the energy."

"You could use sleep," he corrects, giving you a pointed look. You shrug and take another sip, grimacing again. "You know I'm right. When was the last time you slept? A real night of sleep?"

"I don't know. When was the last time you did?" you retort, and Rex sighs. You both know the answer. Neither of you have had a decent night's rest in weeks. But you can't resist the urge to poke at him anyway. It's a habit at this point.

"That's not fair, and you know it," he scolds, giving you a disapproving frown. You raise an eyebrow and take a drink of caf, ignoring the way the caffeine twists your stomach into knots. "This isn't a joke."

"I didn't say it was."

"You're acting like it," he mutters.

"How's the perimeter?" you ask, changing the subject. 

Rex stares at you for a beat, clearly not impressed by your tactic. His jaw works as he debates whether to press the issue or not, before he finally sighs and shakes his head, his shoulders dropping.

"We've got sentries posted every five hundred meters, and we've set up motion sensors and mines around the perimeter," he explains. "I've got the rest of the boys doing the same at the choke points we identified earlier."

"Good," you nod. "Any word from Ahsoka or Anakin?"

"Nothing," Rex replies with a frown. "Long range comms are still down."

"Damn," you mutter, your hand tightening around the mug. Ahsoka should've been able to locate the signal jammer by now, and the fact that she hasn't is a bad sign. It could mean anything, and none of it good. "We're on our own, huh?"

"For the time being," Rex confirms, a note of unease in his voice. You glance at him and see a flash of worry cross his face before he schools his expression back into a neutral mask.

"And the scouts?" you ask. "Have they found anything?"

"Nothing to report yet. They've been moving in a grid pattern and haven't seen anything unusual," he replies as he leans against the railing next to you. He braces his elbows on the metal bar and lets out a heavy breath, his gaze fixed on the ground far below. "And the general in charge of this operation is dead on her feet, despite her best efforts to pretend otherwise."

"You're a pain in the ass," you mutter into your cup, and Rex smirks, his gaze darting to you and back.

"And you're avoiding my question."

"Which was?"

"When was the last time you slept more than a few hours?" he asks again, and you groan, shaking your head and taking another drink. Rex sighs and gives you a look. "C'mon. We're stuck here until the Seps decide to attack. No point in pretending."

"Rex..."

"Please." 

The pleading note in his voice is your undoing, and you deflate, the fight going out of you. You sigh and turn to face him, leaning your hip against the railing.

"I don't know. Probably..." You trail off and sigh again, running a hand through your hair, your fingers tangling in the messy strands. You don't have the energy to be coy or avoid his question. "Probably after that night at 79s. Maybe. It's hard to remember."

"That was months ago," Rex says softly. You shrug and give him a small smile, but he doesn't return it. Instead, his frown deepens, his brows furrowing as he studies your face. "Are you kidding me?"

"What do you want me to say?" you ask, the words coming out sharper than intended, and the cup hits the railing, a splash of caf sloshing over the edge. "It's not like I have much choice, Rex. I sleep when I can, but the visions, they...I just can't seem to get any rest. So I try to meditate instead."

"And how's that going for you?" he asks dryly.

"It's going great," you growl. Rex snorts, and you scowl at him. "Why are you even asking me these questions if you're just going to mock me?“

"I'm not mocking you," he insists, his expression softening as his voice drops low. He shifts closer to you, and his hand drifts down to the railing, his fingers finding yours and gently prying them from the mug. You relax slightly, your body responding to his touch despite the frustration, and he sighs. "I'm sorry."

You watch him for a second before you release the breath you've been holding, your shoulders sagging as the anger drains away. You can't stay mad at him, no matter how hard you try.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he continues, his voice low. "I'm just worried."

"You're always worried," you point out, and he smiles, nodding.

"I am," he agrees. He lets go of your hand and lifts his fingers to your cheek, brushing the hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His touch is warm, his fingers lingering against your skin, and you lean into the contact, his thumb stroking the line of your jaw. "But can you blame me?"

"I guess not," you admit reluctantly. He gives you a knowing look and drops his hand, and you bite back a sigh of disappointment. "But it's not like I can just...sleep. I've tried. It doesn't work."

"I know," he murmurs, his expression softening. "But if you can't sleep, at least try to rest."

"I am resting."

"Yeah, sure you are," he snorts. He reaches out and grabs the cup, setting it on the railing behind him. He takes a step forward, his hand finding yours again, and he gives your fingers a light squeeze. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Where are we going?"

"Just outside," he replies with a shrug. "Away from all of this. For a minute."

"Is that an order?" you tease. Rex rolls his eyes and pulls you towards the stairs. You follow without protest, your fingers laced through his.

The two of you move quickly and quietly, your boots barely whispering against the metal grates as you descend the staircase, careful not to wake the others. Most of the troopers are already asleep, sprawled out across the cots and the floor, their armor piled neatly nearby. The only ones awake are those manning the generator itself, and their attention is too focused on the controls and machinery to notice you and Rex slipping through the room and out the door.

Urdur is less gloomy in the daytime, the shadows cast by the towering buildings not nearly as ominous as they had been in the dark. Rex doesn't let go of your hand as he pulls you down the street, and you let him, too caught up in the feeling of his fingers wrapped around yours and the soft glow of the sunrise to care.

He leads you through the city, empty and silent save for the occasional squad of clones patrolling. Rex takes a winding path, avoiding the major thoroughfares and sticking to the smaller streets and alleys. It's almost peaceful, the two of you wandering through the ruins, and the further the two of you get from the generator, the lighter the burden on your shoulders becomes, the weight of the mission and the war fading away, if only for a while.

"Rex, where are we going?" you ask again, breaking the silence that has settled between you, and he shrugs.

"Does it matter?" he replies as he lets go of your hand and drops back to walk next to you. You give him a wry smile and shake your head.

"No," you chuckle. "But you have to admit, this is a bit strange."

"What is?"

"Us, taking a leisurely stroll through a ghost town." You gesture at the empty streets and cracked pavement. "I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, but it feels like we should be doing something. Like we should be preparing."

"We've done everything we can," Rex points out. "There's nothing left to do but wait.”

You hum reluctantly in agreement, and he shoots you a small smile.

“Besides, it’s not much different than the time you showed me around Coruscant,” he says as he looks away.

Your cheeks heat at the reminder. He'd said the words lightly, casually, but there's a hint of something else in his tone, a note of fondness that catches your attention. And you can’t help but smile at the memory of the two of you walking through the city and talking for hours, the war and your stations forgotten in favor of each other's company. 

He'd been so nervous then, so unsure, and the sight of him fidgeting and shuffling his feet had been a welcome distraction from the turmoil raging inside your own mind. That day had changed something between you, a fundamental shift in the relationship that had grown so slowly over the past nine months, and the thought of it is almost overwhelming.

You never would've guessed when you sat across from him and told him about your past, about Yaddle and what you'd gone through, that it would lead to the two of you here, side by side. Perhaps you knew then that you were attracted to him, but the depth of the connection, the bond that's formed between you, has come as a surprise. And while you've both fought it, the two of you have only managed to dig yourselves deeper, until the feelings have become too big, too strong, to deny any longer.

Yet, you're still dancing around the subject, neither of you ready to take that final step and acknowledge the feelings aloud, or risk the consequences of a confession. But it's there, a constant presence between the two of you, a connection that grows stronger each time you're together, even if neither of you are willing to say it out loud.

And in the silence, the truth remains unsaid, though the feelings remain.

"It's a little different," you tease, and Rex rolls his eyes. You bite back a grin and bump your shoulder against his, earning a huff and a sideways glance. "Sadly, no Dex's waiting for us this time."

"Shame," he quips. "I've been looking forward to that nerf burger for months."

A quiet, breathless chuckle slips from your lips before you can stop it, and Rex looks over at you with a soft smile.

"I missed that."

"What?"

He looks away again, his cheeks coloring, and he clears his throat.

"Your laugh,” he says quietly. “I haven't heard it in a while."

Your heart swells in your chest, the words washing over you and leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You want to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat, and all you can manage is a soft, "Oh."

He nods, his eyes flicking over to meet yours for a second before dropping away again. He's still blushing, and a foreign giddiness wells up in your chest. It's a strange sensation, the sudden urge to laugh and cry at the same time, and you take a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on the ground.

Rex’s words are sweet, but they also remind you of how long it's been since the two of you had a day off, a moment to just sit and relax and enjoy each other's company, without the threat of death hanging over your heads.

All the promises you’ve made to meet up on Coruscant when you both have downtime seem to be getting further and further away. There's never time. Never an opportunity to actually act on them. The war seems like it's only getting worse, and the distance has been wearing on the both of you, more than either of you would care to admit.

You've always been a solitary person, a loner by nature with only Obi-Wan and occasionally Anakin for company, but since Rex, Ahsoka, and the rest of the men have entered your life, you've found yourself craving the closeness, the comfort, the love that comes from having others around who care for you. 

It's a weakness, and the Jedi are taught to resist the pull of attachment, but it's impossible to deny the truth of the matter: you're lonely, and you need them. You need Rex. 

And not just because of the visions or the darkness that haunts you. You need him because of him. Because he's kind and brave and smart, and he has a dry humor and wit that never fails to amuse you. Because he's always there for you, no matter what, and because he loves you. All of you, every piece and part, no matter how broken or flawed. And because you love him too. So much it hurts.

The thought is sobering, and the giddiness dies, a melancholy sadness taking its place. You feel Rex's gaze on you, but you can't look at him, the emotion too raw, too close to the surface.

"I hope we'll get the chance to have another day like that again someday," you finally say. It's not what you want to say, not the words that burn in your throat, but it's the closest thing you can manage right now. It's the truth, as painful as it is.

"I do too," Rex murmurs. You glance up at him, and his expression is so achingly gentle that your breath catches. "More than anything."

You smile despite the ache in your heart, and you reach out to take his hand, lacing your fingers through his and giving his hand a squeeze. He returns the gesture, and the two of you continue on in silence, lost in your own thoughts, each wrapped up in the memory of that day and the promise of more to come.

Eventually, Rex stops walking. The main gate of the city stretches above you, the massive metal doors closed tight and covered with thick layers of dust and rust, and the sight is oddly familiar, a nagging sense of deja vu tugging at the edges of your consciousness. Before you can think too much on it, he tugs on your hand and leads you toward the steps lining the wall, nodding at the guards stationed nearby as he passes.

The two of you take the stone stairs two at a time until you reach the top of the battlements. He doesn’t stop, guiding you to the base of one of the guard towers, and he lets go of your hand as he steps up to the door, pulling it open and gesturing for you to follow him inside and up the ladder.

Rex reaches the top first and offers you his hand as you reach the last rung, and you take it, letting him pull you up and into the room above. It’s small, no larger than your quarters on the Oracle, cramped and filled with crates stacked haphazardly against the walls and corners. A series of small windows line the far wall, the glass clouded with age and neglect, but you can see the barren landscape beyond.

You walk over to the window and lean against the frame, resting your elbows on the rough stone. The white and gold figures of the 882nd regiment are spread out below, and you can see their speeders parked in neat rows near the city gates as they move through the abandoned factories and warehouses outside. Beyond the walls, the ground stretches away, flat and empty for miles, dotted with the occasional spires and domes of half-buried structures. It's desolate and bleak, but beautiful, in a tragic sort of way.

"It's quite the view," you murmur, and Rex hums in agreement as he joins you, his hands resting on the sill beside yours.

His shoulder brushes yours as he leans forward, his gaze sweeping over the horizon, and you steal a glance at him. The light plays across his features, his dark skin glowing golden in the dawn's rays, and you find yourself mesmerized by the sight, the shadows and scars and the worry lines all fading away, leaving only the man beneath the armor.

He turns and catches you staring, a crooked grin tugging at his lips, and he raises an eyebrow.

"So," he drawls, "how do you feel about sleeping now?"

It takes you a moment to register the question, and once it does, you groan and drop your forehead onto your folded arms, shaking your head in exasperation. Rex chuckles, and you peek up at him, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

"You can't be serious," you grumble, lifting your head. "This is your master plan? To drag me to an abandoned guard tower and hope I fall asleep?"

"No," he says innocently, and he crosses his arms and leans his hip against the sill. "It's my plan to keep an eye on you and make sure you actually rest."

"Rex..."

"You know I'm right," he interrupts, his tone firm. "And I'm not letting you leave until you at least try."

"I'd like to see you try and stop me," you challenge, and Rex raises an eyebrow, his mouth twitching as he bites back a grin. "You know you wouldn't stand a chance."

"If this is your way of goading me into sparring with you, it's not going to work this time," he replies dryly. You pout, and Rex shakes his head, a fond smile playing across his lips. "We're not fighting today. That's not what this is about."

"What is it about?"

"You. And the fact that you're barely holding it together," he answers softly. You blink at him in surprise, a cold chill settling over you and seizing your heart, and he continues before you can respond, "You can't keep going like this. I can't. Not if...if you're not okay."

He pauses, and the two of you stare at each other, a tense silence filling the space between you. You want to deny his words, to insist that he's wrong, but the concern in his eyes and Snap’s earlier words about taking care of yourself stops you. Instead, you sigh and dip your head, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"I know," you finally admit. "I'm not trying to be stubborn. I just don't know what else to do."

"That's why I'm here," he says gently. "I'm not asking you to sleep, just try."

You nod, a flush creeping up your neck and staining your cheeks. You feel exposed, vulnerable, the confession pulling at the cracks in your facade. It's been so hard lately to hide the darkness, the fear and the uncertainty that lingers beneath the surface. So hard to ignore the nightmares and the visions and the memories of the pain. It's almost overwhelming, the constant pressure, the weight of it all, and the urge to break is nearly too much to bear.

You know he's right. You know you need to rest. But the thought of sleep, of slipping back into the depths of your mind and finding nothing but torment and anguish and death, is more than you can handle. 

But Rex is patient, his eyes never leaving you as he waits for you to gather your thoughts. And you love him even more for it.

"It's not easy," you say as you meet his gaze, the words coming out strained, your voice rough. "Sleeping."

He nods, and you continue, "It's not like the visions are new, but they're different now, more frequent, and it's harder to keep them at bay. When I sleep, I'm...lost. And alone. And I'm afraid that I won't find my way back."

Your eyes sting as the truth slips past your lips, the emotions rushing forward like a dam breaking, and you press your palms into the sill to keep them steady.

Rex doesn't speak, doesn't offer empty words of comfort or false promises of safety, and for that, you're grateful. Instead, he steps forward and places a hand on your shoulder, the weight and warmth of it grounding and soothing. You lean into the touch as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close, and the two of you stand there for a while, his chin resting on the top of your head and his breath tickling your hair.

"What if I stayed with you?" he suggests quietly. "If you were...not alone."

You freeze, your mind racing at the implications, and you turn to face him.

"What are you saying?" you ask, though the answer is already there, the idea taking root and blossoming.

Rex blushes and shrugs, but he doesn't step back or release his hold on you, his body a solid line against yours. "I could stay. If you wanted. I could sit with you, or...hold you, or...or whatever you need. Whatever would help."

His face is burning red now, his gaze fixed on the ground, and your chest floods with affection. It takes everything you have not to reach up and cup his cheek, to brush your thumb over the curve of his bottom lip. Instead, you slide a hand down his chest, stopping just above his heart.

"You would do that? For me?"

"Of course," he murmurs, finally looking at you, and his expression is so soft, so sincere, that you feel like you might melt. "Anything."

The words are a balm to the ache inside you, soothing the pain and easing the weight of the darkness. You smile and press your forehead against his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

"Okay," you murmur, your voice barely audible. He gives you a soft squeeze, and the two of you stand there for a minute, simply breathing each other in. Eventually, you pull away, and Rex releases his hold on you, his hand lingering on the small of your back. "I guess we should get comfortable."

Rex nods, and the two of you spend the next several minutes moving the crates around and creating a space comfortable enough for the two of you, large tarps spread across the wooden slats to pad the hard floor. You sit down and scoot back until your shoulders hit the wall opposite the windows, and you wait for him to join you.

It's awkward, the two of you sitting side by side, the air filled with a strange sense of anticipation. It's far from the first time you've slept next to someone, platonic or otherwise, but it's the first time you've done so with Rex.

He's not just anyone. He's not a random fling or a drunken night with a stranger. He's your closest friend, and the man you love. He's the one who holds your heart, and the only person who truly knows and understands you. You trust him with your life. And more. So much more.

The thought is exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure, and you feel a wave of trepidation wash over you. You can't lose him, and you don't know what you'd do if this somehow went wrong. If it somehow drove a wedge between the two of you. But at the same time, you can't deny that you want him. All of him.

As if sensing your nerves, he turns to you, his face serious.

"You sure?" he asks quietly, and you chuckle, the anxiety fading away at the sincerity in his eyes.

"Are you?"

"I'm asking you," he counters, his lips quirking. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and Rex's expression softens, a hint of vulnerability flashing across his features. "It's just...I don't want to pressure you."

"You're not," you assure him, and the truth of the words settles between the two of you. He's never pushed you, never forced anything, always giving you space and time, and the realization fills you with a deep sense of gratitude. "I wouldn't have said yes if I wasn't sure."

Rex nods and looks away, a hint of color returning to his cheeks as he shifts closer and leans back against the wall next to you. There's still some distance between the two of you, a gap neither of you is quite willing to cross, and you sigh as the silence stretches on.

"This is stupid," you mutter. "I'm too old for this."

Rex glances at you in surprise, a question on his lips. Before he can say anything, you sigh and undo the clasp on your belt, tossing it to the side before you work on removing your outer robe. The motion is quick, and you try not to notice the way his eyes widen as you move.

Once the heavy fabric is off, you fold it into a pillow and lay down, scooting until your head is in his lap. Rex tenses under you, and you turn onto your side, facing away from him and tucking your legs close to your body. You can feel his gaze on the back of your head, and his breath comes out in a slow, shaky exhale, but he doesn't move.

"Is this okay?" you ask after a beat, looking up at him. His eyes are wide, the blush from earlier spreading down his neck and across his ears. "Are you alright, Rex?"

"Yeah," he chokes out, nodding his head vigorously, his hands twitching where they're pressed against his thighs. He clears his throat, his voice still hoarse as he continues, "I'm good. I'm great. This is fine."

"Just fine?"

"More than fine," he replies, a nervous edge to his tone, and his gaze drifts down to your face, his expression softening. "How are you? Is this...are you comfortable?"

"Yes," you murmur, and Rex relaxes, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you. For doing this. For staying with me."

"It's nothing," he insists. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers gentle against your skin, and the feeling is soothing. You nuzzle his thigh, and his breath catches, his hand stilling before he continues stroking your cheek, the touch light and careful. "It's the least I can do."

"It's not nothing," you say, looking up at him. His gaze meets yours, and you take a deep breath before speaking again. "It means a lot to me. And...it means a lot to me that it's you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Rex nods, his expression thoughtful, and the two of you settle back into silence. His hand doesn't stop, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw and the curve of your ear, down your neck to the collar of your tunic, and back up again. It's a gentle caress, an intimate touch that leaves goosebumps in its wake. You close your eyes and hum contentedly, relaxing into the sensation and savoring the feeling of his hands on your skin.

After a while, his touch moves down your arm, his fingertips dancing over your shoulder, and his palm rests on your hip. His thumb rubs circles across the bone, and you squirm at the tickling sensation, a giggle bubbling up in your throat. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his hand lifting away, but you reach back and grab his wrist, keeping it there. He hesitates, and you open your eyes, turning to look up at him.

"It's fine," you assure him, smiling softly. "I was enjoying it."

His brow furrows, his gaze darting down to his hand on your hip and back up to meet yours. There's a question in his eyes, and you nod, giving his hand a light squeeze before releasing him.

Rex exhales slowly, and his hand returns to your waist, his touch tentative and gentle. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort, but when he finds none, his hand molds to the curve of your hip again, resting there. You smile and close your eyes again.

"Do you remember that day in the city?" Rex asks, his voice low.

"Of course," you murmur, turning your head so your cheek rests against his thigh. The plastoid of his leg plating is hard and unforgiving underneath the pillow of your robes, but you ignore the discomfort, focusing on the heat radiating from his body and the weight of his hand against your side. "How could I forget? That was the day you finally realized I wasn't just a crazy Jedi."

"You're not crazy," he retorts, giving your hip a light pinch. You yelp in surprise, and Rex chuckles, the rich, throaty noise filling the room and warming your heart. "Just a bit unhinged, is all."

"Unhinged?" you protest as you roll onto your back and open your eyes to glare up at him. His expression is teasing, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, and you narrow your eyes. "How is that any better?”

"You're right," he laughs. "Not unhinged. A little eccentric, maybe."

"Eccentric?" you repeat indignantly.

"What? I think it suits you," he says, grinning down at you, and you groan, burying your face in his thigh. He snorts a laugh and nudges you with his leg. "It's not a bad thing. I like it."

You don’t move, trying to hide the grin that threatens to spread across your face. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that to you, and it’s not the first time you’ve gotten the feeling that he genuinely likes the less conventional aspects of your personality, even the ones you've spent most of your life trying to hide from everyone else. But it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing, and it doesn't stop the flush that spreads up your neck and stains your cheeks pink.

After a second, Rex sighs, his hand rubbing your hip soothingly. "I meant what I said. You're not crazy, and anyone who says you are isn't worth your time. And the men will agree with me."

"Yeah?" you ask, peering up at him. He nods, his expression sincere, and you bite back a smile, your gaze falling away from his face. "I'm glad I have their support."

"They'd follow you anywhere," he says softly, his fingers trailing down your side, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. "And so would I."

You close your eyes, a lump rising in your throat as his words wash over you, and you reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. His words are like a balm to the ache inside you, and you squeeze his hand, holding onto him like a lifeline.

It's a simple thing, the two of you sitting together, talking quietly, his hand holding yours, and yet, it feels like everything. Like more than either of you can say, but also like everything you need. A safe place. A sanctuary. A refuge from the chaos of the war and the darkness of the visions. A home.

You bite your lip, a sudden swell of emotion rising inside you, and you take a deep breath, forcing the tears back before they can spill over. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed, and Rex's hand tightens around yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently.

"What is it?" he asks quietly, his voice breaking the silence. You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. How to put your feelings into words. "Hey. Talk to me."

"I just..." 

You trail off, the words catching in your throat. He waits, his eyes never leaving your face, and you take a deep breath before continuing, the truth tumbling out of you.

"I had a dream, when I was healing that boy on Nadiem," you confess quietly. Rex’s brow furrows, but he nods, encouraging you to continue. "The Force showed me what could be, the future I could have, and..."

Your breath catches, and you swallow hard, trying to regain your composure. The emotions welling up inside you are overwhelming, and you squeeze his hand again, drawing strength from the warmth of his touch. He doesn't push you, just watches you, his gaze fixed on yours, and you find the courage to keep going.

"It wasn't the first time I'd had a vision like that," you explain softly, your voice trembling. “It's become something like a haven for me, I think. I thought it was a manifestation of the Light side of the Force. Something my mind latches onto in the darkness. But now, I'm not so sure. I think...it's real. Or it could be."

"What was it about?" he asks, his voice low, the words barely more than a whisper. You blink away the tears and give him a small smile.

"A field," you murmur, and you look away, trying to remember the details. "A field of golden grass and flowers, and the sun was shining. I could hear kids playing, and birds, and insects, and...I felt safe. And happy."

You pause, the memory flooding back to you, the sensations so vivid that you can almost taste the sweetness in the air, and your smile widens, a single tear rolling down your cheek. You wipe it with the heel of your hand, and Rex's grip tightens, his fingers entwined with yours.

"Sounds nice," he whispers.

"It was," you reply, your voice wavering. "I've had similar visions before, but this was the clearest, the most real. I felt like I was home."

The two of you fall silent as Rex watches you intently, his expression unreadable. He’s waiting for you to continue, but you can't bring yourself to speak, the weight of the confession threatening to break the dam, and so the two of you sit there, neither saying a word.

“What else?” he finally prompts gently.

Your eyes meet his, and you take a shaky breath. You look away and focus on the feeling of his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, and the words slip out, a quiet confession that lingers in the air between you.

“You were there too. With me."

Rex doesn’t respond. Doesn't move.

He simply stares at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and disbelief, and you let out a soft, breathless chuckle that breaks the silence. His lips twitch, and he looks away, the blush creeping across his cheeks and ears again. You nudge his leg with your head, earning a quiet grunt.

"I'm serious," you insist.

Rex huffs a laugh, still not meeting your eyes.

"You're…you’re sure it was me?" he asks after a beat. You nod, and he gives you a half-smile, the corner of his mouth curving up. "What was I doing?"

You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. You can feel him watching you, his gaze burning a hole into your forehead, but you don't look at him, trying to figure out how to describe what you saw. What you felt.

"We were just standing there. Talking," you start slowly, your voice low, almost a whisper. You close your eyes, the image filling your mind. "We hugged. You said you were looking for me. That I'd run off."

"Run off?"

"You seemed worried, but not surprised," you say with a small smile.

"Of course I wasn't," he murmurs. You turn your head and open your eyes, meeting his gaze. His expression is thoughtful, a hint of sadness lurking behind his smile. "I know you."

"Yeah, you do.” You swallow hard and look away, the emotion building up in your chest, raw and aching. "You told me you were always going to find me."

"Sounds like me."

"It did," you laugh as you wipe your cheek again. "And you did."

"Always will," he vows quietly, his voice thick with emotion, and you close your eyes again, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "If that's where you are, that's where I'll be."

The room falls quiet as his words steal the air from your lungs. You can't breathe, can't move, can't speak. All you can do is lie there, the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, and hope that the silence between the two of you says what you can't. What you don't have the words for.

Because if the vision is true, if the future you see is the same as the future Rex wants, it changes everything. It's more than the two of you can possibly comprehend, more than either of you are prepared for.

It's everything. Everything the two of you have ever wanted, everything the you have ever dreamed of. Everything that's been missing in the lives you've lived for far too many years.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

“I’m grateful for it. That the Force would show me a place like that. A home," you manage after a beat, your voice hoarse. "But...it was also cruel. To give me something like that only to take it away. I can't...I don't think I can..."

Your voice cracks, the sentence trailing off, and you turn away, covering your face with your hand. You can't keep going.

The answering silence hangs over the two of you like a shroud, a heavy weight that settles on your shoulders. Your fingers play with the robe folded underneath your head, picking at a loose thread until the pressure building inside you becomes too much.

You sigh and push yourself up, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You can feel Rex's gaze on you, the concern and worry emanating from him almost tangible, but you keep your eyes on the ground, too ashamed to look at him.

"It's a lot," you admit quietly, your voice muffled by the fabric of your pants. "The whole thing. It's a lot."

"Yeah," he murmurs. "It is."

"It didn’t used to be like this. I don’t know why the Force is showing me these things, or what it means," you sigh as you glance up at him.

He's staring down at his hands, his brow furrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line. The sight is familiar, a look he's worn so often in the past several months that it almost feels like a second skin. A mask.

You wish more than anything you could wipe the expression from his face, but you know you can't, and so you continue, "I know I'm supposed to be better at this. Stronger. I don't understand why I'm failing."

"Failing? At what?"

"Being a Jedi," you reply, a bitter edge creeping into your voice. You take a deep breath, and the anger and resentment drain away, replaced by a weary resignation. "I used to think I was terrible at it. That the only reason I wasn't expelled from the Order was because Yaddle took pity on me. But now...I feel like maybe I wasn't a failure, or a lost cause, and that...it's worse."

You pause, a sudden exhaustion settling over you, and the words come out before you can stop them, spilling from your lips in a harsh, ragged whisper.

"It means I could have been more."

The room is silent save for the thud of your heart in your ears, the words hanging heavy in the air. They're true, though you've never said them out loud before, and the truth stings, a deep ache that radiates through your chest.

After a beat, Rex speaks, his voice soft and gentle, but firm, the conviction in his tone leaving no room for argument.

"You are more."

You look up, the tears welling up and threatening to spill over, and he holds your gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce determination.

"You are so much more," he continues. "You're kind and caring and loyal, and you're a good friend and an amazing Jedi. The best. And even if you weren't, it wouldn't matter. Not to me."

"Rex..."

"I'm not a Jedi," he interrupts, his voice low and rough. "And I'm not saying this because I'm trying to be the voice of reason, or because I think that's what you want to hear. I'm saying it because it's the truth."

He pauses, the emotions rising to the surface, and his voice wavers, a note of sadness and longing creeping in. "I know how much it means to you, being a Jedi. And I respect that. But...you can't keep pushing yourself like this. You can't keep tearing yourself apart trying to live up to some impossible standard."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," he says, the words cutting off your protests, and he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly. "You're not a machine. You're not invincible. And the war isn't going to get any easier."

"I know."

"Do you?" he asks, his brow furrowed. "Because it doesn't seem like you're giving yourself a chance to rest. To process."

You hesitate, the truth of his words hitting you, and you let out a laugh, a harsh, bitter noise that echoes off the walls.

"I guess I've just been hoping I'd eventually figure it out," you admit, your voice catching. "That somehow, if I just kept going, it would all make sense. And it would work. It's always worked before."

"Maybe it's time to try something new."

You snort, and he raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his gaze.

"Like what?" you ask.

"You could start by not being so hard on yourself," he replies, his tone matter-of-fact. "Maybe stop trying to fix everything, or take on the burden of the whole galaxy, and give yourself a little bit of room to breathe."

"Rex, I can't—“

"Yes, you can," he says softly, and his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch warm and gentle, his thumb brushing the skin just below your eye. "You've given so much already. And you don't have to do it alone. You've got me, and the men, and General Kenobi. And General Skywalker and Commander Tano too, if you let them. We'll help you through it, no matter what. You can lean on us."

The words are kind, and the sentiment is touching, but you shake your head, the doubt and fear lingering just beneath the surface rising up and choking the air from your lungs.

"No," you croak, and you pull away from his touch. "You don't understand. I can't...I can't rely on others, or ask them to carry my burdens. It's not fair."

"Fair?"

"I've caused so much pain and suffering already," you say quietly, the guilt and shame heavy in your gut, and you hug your knees tighter. "I can't drag everyone else down with me."

Rex sighs and shifts closer, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. You fight the urge to push him away, to hide, and allow yourself to lean into him, the warmth and solidness of his body a comfort against the storm inside you.

"I know what it's like," he murmurs, his hand resting on the side of your neck, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, "to feel like you have to be perfect, or strong, or unbreakable. Like you have to keep all the pieces together and not make a single mistake. And I know how exhausting and lonely it can be."

You nod, and the tears well up, spilling over your lashes and streaming down your cheeks. Rex doesn't hesitate, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you, cradling the back of your head in his hand as he holds you tight against his chest. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he leans down, pressing his forehead against the crown of your head, his breath tickling your hair.

"I've felt it too," he whispers, his voice hoarse, and you squeeze your eyes shut, the sob building in your throat. "I still do. It's been...hard. Especially lately. It's not easy, and it's not something we can just fix overnight. But it's also not something we have to do alone."

You sniffle and nod again, clutching the front of his chest plate as the tears fall faster. The words hit deep, piercing the shell of your heart and filling you with a warmth that spreads through your chest, radiating out to the tips of your fingers and toes. The feeling is familiar, a sensation that's followed him since the day he rescued you, a connection that's only grown stronger with each passing day, and you can't help but press yourself closer, desperate to feel the comfort of his presence.

Rex sighs, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, and his lips brush against the top of your head. The gesture is tender and affectionate, and it only serves to intensify the ache inside you, the desire to be closer to him, to hold him and be held. To feel safe. And loved.

"You're not alone, and you're not broken," he continues softly, his voice strained, his grip on you tightening as he speaks. "You're just tired. And overwhelmed. And hurting. And that's okay."

The last word catches in his throat, and you pull away, looking up at him through watery eyes. His expression is pained, a raw emotion written across his face, and his gaze darts away from yours. He tries to mask it, but you can see the tears clinging to his eyelashes, the redness in the corners of his eyes. And the sight breaks your heart.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, wiping his cheeks roughly with the back of his hand. "I'm not trying to make this about me. It's just...seeing you like this, it...hurts."

"I know," you whisper. "I know, and I'm sorry. For worrying you. For not being able to handle it. I just...I'm not..."

"It's okay," he cuts in, his voice soft, the pain in his eyes melting into a tenderness that nearly steals your breath. "We're in this together, remember?"

You give him a smile, a small, trembling thing, and Rex returns the expression. The two of you lean back against the wall again, and he tucks his arm around you, drawing you back into the safety of his embrace.

"You're not a failure. Not by a mile. I don't know anyone else who could do what you do, or deal with everything you've dealt with, and still be standing," he murmurs, and his free hand reaches over to touch yours, his fingers ghosting along the scars that stretch across your palm. "You're amazing."

"That's sweet," you mutter, your face burning at his praise. "But you're biased."

Rex snorts a soft laugh and squeezes your hip. "Maybe. But I’m not the only one who thinks so. Ask the men. Ask anyone who's served with you. They'll all tell you the same thing. Hell, you can ask Lieutenant Price. The boys told me he has an impressive poster collection.”

“Oh, enough with the kriffing posters,” you grumble, burying your face in his chest.

He chuckles and rests his chin on top of your head, his arms encircling your waist. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying the feeling of being close to each other, and the weight that's been sitting heavy on your chest lifts, allowing you to breathe again.

"Thank you," you mumble, and Rex hums, the noise rumbling in his chest. You look up at him and add, "For...all of this. For listening. And for being here. For not giving up on me."

"I'll never give up on you," he promises, and the sincerity in his voice brings tears to your eyes. You quickly look away and press your cheek against his chest again, blinking furiously as you fight back the emotions. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," you say hoarsely, your voice muffled by the plastoid of his armor.

"I never do," he counters, and his hand moves to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. He presses his lips to the crown of your head, and his breath is warm against your skin. "Not to you. I'm here, cyar'ika. Always."

Tears sting your eyes again, but they're tempered by the warmth of his words, the feeling of his breath on your head. The sound of the Mando'a rolling off his tongue sends a shiver down your spine, chasing away the cold dread that's been gnawing at the pit of your stomach and replacing it with curiosity. You've heard him say the word before, wrote it in a message once or twice, but he's never offered a translation.

You pull back and look up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What does that mean?"

Rex blinks at you, a look of confusion passing over his features before his eyes widen, a flush creeping up his neck and spreading across his cheeks. He clears his throat and looks away, his gaze darting around the room before settling somewhere over your shoulder.

"What does what mean?"

"What you just said," you prompt, and his blush deepens, the color reaching the tips of his ears. You bite back a grin and poke him in the chest, trying not to laugh at his embarrassment. "You've said it before. What does it mean?"

"Uh, it's a...it's a nickname," Rex stammers, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. "A term of endearment."

"Oh," you reply softly. You duck your head, a smile spreading across your face, and you look up at him through your lashes. "Well, that's...that's nice."

Rex laughs nervously and nods, still not looking at you, and your grin widens.

"Do I get to know what it means?"

"I'll tell you later," he mumbles as he looks at the ceiling.

"Later?" you prompt, nudging his shoulder. "When is later?"

“After you rest," he replies firmly, finally meeting your gaze. Your lower lip juts out, and Rex shakes his head, his lips twitching as he tries not to smile. "No. I'm not falling for that this time. Now come here."

You huff and turn away, crossing your arms and glaring at the wall, but he doesn't give up. He pulls you into his lap, tucking your legs across his and resting his chin on the top of your head. You resist at first, but he's persistent, and eventually, you relent, allowing him to maneuver the two of you into a more comfortable position.

Rex shifts until his back is pressed against the wall and his legs are stretched out in front of him, and you curl into him, tucking your head beneath his chin and resting your hands on his chest plate. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, and you nuzzle his neck, inhaling deeply as his scent fills your lungs.

"Are you going to keep sulking, or are you going to close your eyes?" he asks after a beat, a teasing lilt to his voice. You sigh dramatically, and he snorts, the warm puff of air tickling the shell of your ear. "Fine, but I'm not moving until you do."

"I guess I have no choice, huh?" you grumble, though the smile is still on your face, a fluttery, giddy feeling swelling in your chest. "I suppose you win this round, Rex."

“I’ll mark the occasion in my calendar," he drawls, and you elbow him in the ribs. “On this day, General Anathorn gave in to Captain Rex. A glorious victory for the Republic."

"Asshole," you mutter under your breath. He snickers and tightens his arms around you, pulling you even closer. "You're lucky I'm too tired to keep arguing with you."

"I'll count my blessings while they last," he deadpans, earning another elbow. "Hey, watch it."

"Oh, sorry," you reply, not sounding the least bit apologetic. Rex gives a long-suffering sigh, but the arm around your waist remains where it is, his thumb stroking the fabric of your tunic. "Are you comfortable?"

"Very," he murmurs. "Are you?"

"Yes," you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips. "This is nice. Being like this, with you. It feels...safe."

"Yeah," he breathes. "It does."

You hum contentedly and close your eyes, a yawn stretching across your face, and Rex chuckles, his nose nuzzling the crown of your head.

"I'll wake you if anything happens," he whispers as he grabs your outer robe and drapes it over the two of you.

You nod and press a light kiss to his neck, snuggling closer. Rex stiffens at the contact, his breath hitching before he relaxes, a pleased rumble emanating from his chest. The two of you fall into silence, his fingers tracing patterns along your back as your breathing begins to slow, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the chill that lingers beneath your skin. 

It's easy to forget, wrapped up in his arms, the soft light of the rising sun painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Easier than it should be. But you don't fight it, the comfort and security of his presence a balm to the fears and worries that plague your mind. 

For a brief, fleeting second, everything is okay, and you're simply a man and a woman, lost in the warmth and affection between you. Nothing else matters. Not the war. Not the visions. Not the darkness that haunts you. Just this. Just the two of you. Together.

"Sleep," Rex murmurs, his voice a quiet whisper. "I'll be here."

And so you do.

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[heeseungsbunny]

GENTLE GIANT

pairing: sam winchester x injured!reader

summary: you get injured during a dangerous hunt with sam & dean and sam does his best to help you

notes: reader being naked without any sexual intentions, reader is too weak to eat, fluff, slight angst, reader almost bleeds out to death NOT PROOFREAD

“hey you alright back there?” dean looks back to check on you because your silence is unusual and he heard you breathing heavily. you barely heard him breathe and still trying to stop the gash on your stomach that was still rapidly bleeding when it first got there. “y-yeah, just tired” your voice came out weak and fragile. your weak response immediately concerns sam, making him want to look back as well. it’s dark outside so he can barely see you or anything, only your glistening eyes staring right back at him, knowing he would soon enough smell the blood leaking through your jacket. he reaches and rubs your knee, “we’re almost back to the motel, but we’re getting some food on the way so you can rest back there”. you couldn’t rest, you afraid to fall asleep and not waking back up, plus the tummy aching pain was undeniable. just 30 minutes…

once dean pulled into the driveway, the only thing really exciting was the food, but you still had to take care of the bleeding. sam steps out the passenger seat and opens your car door for you, you can’t help but imagine how he would react if he saw this. you try to act as normal as possible, trying not to limp as your drained body is practically begging for help. before sam even gets to give you your food, you dash to the bathroom. you shut the door and stare at your tired self in the mirror. how could let this happen, now sam & dean won’t ever take you hunting with them again. you lift up your hoodie and see how disgusting it looks, making you scrunch your face. you start to scramble for the med kit, while holding your jacket, that’s halfway soaked in blood already, to slow down the blood more. once you get it slow down, you try to properly bandage but then you realize you have no idea what you’re doing. first, you’re too weak to even rap the bandage around your waist, and second, you don’t know because sam never wants you to do it and wants to take care of you. sam notices how long you been in the bathroom both him & his brother already finished their food, so he decides to check on you. you’re mind is so clouded you don’t even hear his footsteps, or him knocking on the door. “hey babe, you alright in there” he was ready to break the door down after not getting a response from you on his 5th knock. “yeah i’m-good sammy, just so eat your food or something” you leaned against the door to talk so he could hear you better. he noticed your hesitant response and starts to open the door, pushing your body with the door with ease. you try to react quickly and hide it but sam is quicker. his eyes go wide and just stares at it. “s-sam i-i got it, i’ll fix it-” you tried to hide it but sam firmly but gently grabs your wrists. he doesn’t ask any questions because he already knows the answer and he swiftly places you on the sink. he still hasn’t made eye contact with you and has a worried expression plastered all over his face. he’s too focused on bandaging your injury. the pain gets too overwhelming, making you wince and squeeze his shoulder. his eyes shift up to you and then continue to bandage your wound. then he finally finishes, sighing like a weight was lifted off him. “you still hungry?” he says while putting away the med kit.

you nod and he lifts up off the sink. he doesn’t put you down and opens the bathroom door with his other hand. he sits you down in a chair and starts rummaging through the bag for your food. luckily, it was still warm so he placed it in front of you before sitting down across the table. you sigh from just seeing food. you move your fidgeting hands from your lap and pick up your burger. you could barely hold it in your hands because you couldn’t stop shaking & the headache impossible to ignore. you look up at sam before hesitantly taking bite. sam noticed your shaking long before you even go inside the motel, but it had gotten worse since you were in the car. “do you need help?” you saw those puppy eyes looking at you when you met his eyes. you hated asking for help, especially with something so simple. the exhausted look on your face is an answer for him. he takes the burger from your hands and holds it up to your lips. you hesitate but still take a bite anyways, sam had never done this for you but you just love when he babies you like this when you don’t have to worry about anything. your bites are slow & small but sam is being patient with you. once you really started eating, you noticed how hungry you actually were. sam even wiped the grease of your face for you when you finished eating. you both just sat there for a minute and you felt so full it was making you sleepy now. sam saw your fluttering eyes and remembered you needed to bathe & get the dried blood off of you. “hey you still need to take bath and get that blood off you” he spoke suddenly.

“i’m too weak right now, i’ll do it in the morning” sam frowns at your answer and picks you up from your chair. “i’ll bath you so you won’t have to tire yourself out and you can sleep as soon as i’m done” your eyes widen at the suggestion, you’ve would’ve never thought sam would do something like this. he sits you down on the toilet seat and start running warm back water for you. “i’ll be back, i’m going to get some clothes for you to sleep in”you nod as he walks out the door. you’re just staring at the water filing up the bathtub, it strangely reminds you of your wound, how much blood you lost and you could’ve died in that bathroom if sam didn’t walk in to help you. sam walks in with one of his hoodies & a pair of your pajama pants and places it on the sink counter. “do you need help taking off your clothes” you snap out of it and realize you should’ve taken your clothes. you tell him to turn around because you’re still shy when he sees you naked. “of course baby, but i’m gonna see you anyways when i’m washing you up” he says as he still turns around. after you peel your clothes off your sticky body, you step into the warm, skin soothing water. it felt better than you expected and you were more relaxed & didn’t care anymore if sam saw you naked or not. he hears as your feet dip into the water and slowly turns around. you look absolutely beautiful, even though you almost bled out to death and is incredibly weak, you still look beautiful. sam sits on the floor and rolls up his sleeves. he grabs a rag and soak it in water before washing the dirt and stickiness of your neck & face. you catch yourself leaning into his soft & gentle touch. you still kept your eyes closed and slowly starting to drift asleep, but then you felt bad for sam, who was taking care of you, and still fought to stay awake for him and talk to him. you finally open you relaxed eyes and find his focused but soft eyes on you. he slightly pushes you forward so he wash your back and feel the warm water run down, rubbing slow circles all over. he takes a second to think what needs to cleaned next. he pushes you back against the back of the tub so your not hunched over and leaned back. he washes your chest and does his best to not make your feel uncomfortable, but you don’t feel uncomfortable at all because he’s just so caring. then he reaches and grabs your legs & scrubs them down. once he fully cleans you, you grands your hand and help you out so you fall. he opens the drains and gives you a towel, “i’ll be in the room, call for me if you need anything” he says giving you those same puppy eyes that makes you cave in every time. you nod & smile before you start to dry off. you try to avoid rubbing against or pressing down on the wound while still getting fully dry. you slip on sam’s larger hoodie and your pajama pants. you brush your teeth and just wash your face to feel fully clean. taking a bath and being clean just feel so refreshing, all you wanna do is sleep. when you step into the room where sam is, you seeing making the bed for you so there’s no struggle for you. “there’s some water for you on the dresser if you wake up thirsty” he says when he notices that you’re standing there. you smiles lazily and crawl into the bed, next to where he’s sitting. he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, laying you down under the blankets. being in his arms, under the blankets, makes you feel safe & warm all over. “thank you for taking care of me” you say as you snuggle into him before falling asleep. “i’ll always take care of you” he kisses your forehead as he feels your body relax into him.

[escapisttt]

in a flood, we built an ark

pet is nothing but loyal to vega, the sadism demon. but when they begin to have self doubt, how will he respond?

cw: nsfw! master/pet dynamics, angst to fluff to smut basically lmfao

authors note: this is for my baby @vegafan69 !! here’s your birthday present i hope you enjoyyyy!! i wrote this all in one sitting, never say i don’t love you. oh and i hope everyone else that reads enjoys as well HAHAHA

word count: 2.4k

the halls of the demons' and daemons' quarters were bleak, pale, and clinical. one could've assumed they were walking through an abandoned hospital, only lacking the character and signs of life that came with multitudes of people passing through. there was nothing welcoming about their surroundings, but pet was walking with nothing but anticipation in their steps. their footfalls echoed off of the blank walls and was the only audible sound besides their gentle panting, out of breath. every single room they passed was occupied, but you couldn't tell if you didn't know beforehand; starchildren kept weak and starving in small rooms, their light flickering out like the final whimpers of a supernova. pet didn't have enough in them to care. enough time, enough provision, enough devotion. their entirety belonged to a single demon at the end of this arid entanglement of halls, giving more of themself elsewhere would go against their nature.

the collar around their neck felt hot under the condemning gaze of the check-in clerk. not from shame, but pride. the holy silver name of their demon twinkled across their throat in the fluorescent lighting and they swore they could see his smile. once approved, they anxiously brushed past the clerk and toward their eden. the walk was a short one due to their eagerness, but when facing his doorway they took a moment to collect themself; would he enjoy seeing how desperate they were to see him, or would he prefer them to be more composed so he would have more fun breaking them down? they didn't precisely know, they just hoped he would be as happy to see them as they were.

they unlocked the door and instantly felt his presence. his room was always kept dark by his magical manipulation and pet went against their animal instinct, stepping into the inky black depths. the energy in the room quickly shifted.

"oh, is that my pet?" he asked, a smile tangible in his voice. he sounded so near yet he hadn't shown himself. the human shuddered and replied with a soft, "yes," feeling euphoria flood their senses like a drug at his resonance. they always opened themself up for him to invade, to overtake. nothing felt better than being his possession. he graced them with a small chuckle and responded. "come to visit so soon? you know you can't feed me, and i'm not hungry." they squirmed in place, knowing exactly what he was doing. he was right, they were about the least malicious person in the world and could never give him consistent sustenance, they both knew it. in fact, they both knew exactly why pet was here today. the demon simply wanted to hear them admit it.

"i missed you, master," they breathed, cursing themself for being so meek and soft-spoken. he snickered this time, stepping into the light at last. pet's eyes widened and immediately dropped to their knees. they let their gaze briefly stray across his form, nothing but a single robe hanging diagonally across him, before forcing their eyes up to meet his. he was so elegant in such a casual way, it made them want to scream. they understood perfectly how humans all those centuries ago worshipped marble-sculpted statues of greek gods, for they had their own right in front of them. a part of them wondered if it would be appropriate for him to have his own legion of devoted followers, they thought he deserved as much, but the truer, uglier part of them condemned the idea: he was theirs to worship, no one could do any better. they tried to forcefully stifle such possessive thoughts when in front of him, but a demon of his caliber could pick up on the slightest whisper of emotion. he glided toward them slowly, raising an amused brow at what he sensed.

"mm, perhaps you aren't such a gentle soul after all. jealousy, pet? what thoughts have been running around in that pretty head?" they swallowed thickly and felt their throat get tight, heart pounding so hard they felt dizzy.

"i-i.... i'm sorry master. i was thinking... i'm pathetic, i... i don't like the idea of others doing what i do for you. i'm sorry," they stammered hesitantly. they'd never felt so ashamed, so selfish and ungrateful. he could do whatever he wanted, they were just lucky he even liked their repeat visits. self-deprecating thoughts began to swallow them whole; god, this is what happened whenever they weren't under his control. they didn't have to think under his command, just follow his every word. it was so much easier than this. they spiraled and spiraled and spiraled without him, falling so easily down the hole of self hatred.

vega watched their eyes glaze over and he may as well have been by himself again. pet left their surroundings and retreated into their mind, leaving the demon to watch as they began to drown. his brows furrowed and he tasted their sour emotions on his tongue: self-loathing, disgust, helplessness. he felt his heart, whatever that was, twist uncomfortably. he kneeled down, large form still looming over them. he took their chin in a soft grip and avoided letting his sharp nails touch them, tilting their head up at him. snapping his fingers, he watched as their eyes quickly regained awareness and their pupils expanded, literally seeking more of him. the demon shushed them quietly and commanded their attention.

"shh shh, come back to me... there you are. don't go there, do not think without me. you lead yourself down dangerous paths meaninglessly. i only use others for food, heinous people, my dear. i taste them to stay living, and i stay living to taste you. no other being has ever showed me the loyalty and affection you have.” he looked down at their collar and smiled warmly, other hand moving to hook his finger underneath it. “look at you…” he whispered. he felt the silver material between this thumb and forefinger, admiring their dichotomous nature; so shy, yet so bold in displaying to the world who they belong to. he didn't know how he got so fortunate, it certainly wasn't because of any patronage or good deeds. they were transparent for one another and both knew exactly what the other one was, each loving what they saw no matter how depraved or immoral.

pet listened with wonder. if they believed in any other god they would have prayed and given thanks, but there was only vega. they sighed shakily and breathed, "thank you.... i worship you...." they could find no other words. the demon smiled and put his hand atop their head affectionately, pushing it back so they were looking directly up into the void of black. a few seconds of silence passed before they felt lips on the underside of their chin just above their collar. vega's lips soon found purchase atop the cool metal and kissed each letter of his own name. not self-aggrandizing, but rather a show of appreciation to the person wearing it. between kisses, that otherworldly voice resounded in their ears, now up close and personal.

"you are the only one wearing my name. you are the only one brave enough, dear enough to me. don't think of others, i have none. think only of me."

"yes master," they quickly said while nodding, breathy and dizzy with passion. his lips left hallowed ground in their wake, trailing slowly down their throat and chest. his magic made quick work of their clothes, leaving them both exposed to one another. just as fast as they were naked, the demon pressed himself against his human, not giving them a chance to shiver in the cold. he wrapped his strong arms around their waist as he kissed their nipples, deciding not to use his tongue. after a moment, he stood once again and looked down at them with something weighty in his eyes. they remained like that for a short, tranquil instant, telling each other something neither was quite ready to say yet. right then, a religion was invented when a human looked into a demon's eyes.

vega took his own advice and stirred himself from dangerous thoughts, his hand gripping the base of his hard cock. pet automatically licked their lips which made him smile. seeing them be so eager every single time made his body hot with something other than lust, though he'd be the first to admit that lust was the majority of it. he pointed his dripping tip down toward their mouth and when they went to open, he shook his head gently. "not yet, keep those pretty lips sealed," he instructed, to which they did so without question. they were rewarded with a soft, "good puppy" and felt their core throb. he then lightly placed himself on their bottom lip, tracing back and forth and spreading his precum on it. "you see? this is what you do to me," he groaned. trembling, pet fought every urge to lick their lips again and taste him; while that would have been wondrous, receiving his permission would have been much better, so they held back. the demon then kneeled again on one knee, bringing his pet's lips to his own and kissing them, tasting himself. they both moaned the second they made contact, feeling more connected than they ever had. while they kissed each other deeply, vega slowly guided them onto their back. if either of them were any better, he would have created a bed, but the animalism in taking them right there on the floor got to both of them.

pet felt the air supply in their lungs deplete the longer they kissed him, but they didn't care. it was vega who pulled back for their sake, pressing his knee against their thigh to spread them open. he looked down and saw their wetness, his grin regaining some of his natural pomp. "oh, look at that. it takes nothing to make you wet, huh? sloppy little dog...." pet keened at that, whimpering and aching for him.

"mhm... nasty little slut..." they echoed, degrading themself. half of the appeal in it was confirming to vega that he was right, because their master could never be wrong. the demon in question nodded with a smirk and prodded their entrance with his tip, spreading more of his slick on them. unlike usual though, he took his time and entered slowly, staring at the different expressions on their face the deeper he went. when their mouth dropped open and made that pretty 'o' shape, he had to hold himself back from ramming into them. no, something was different this time, something sweeter. he wanted to show them just how much he appreciated them and their devotion.

vega's cock was always difficult to take, stretching and burning at first, but this time it was like pet didn't feel the pain. they didn't squirm or even move at all really, frozen solid by the way their demon was looking at them. he never treated them gently during sex, not like this, and now they felt their soul lifting into the clouds. is this what it's like to touch god? to be saved? they thought so, and when his hips started moving, they were in heaven.

his hips rolled into their thighs fluidly, in and out and in and out and in and out at the perfect, swift pace. it was in neither of their natures to seek the gentlest sex, but this was their version of it. his cock pounded into them relentlessly but the look on his face was nothing short of proud: proud of the human he owned, proud that someone so sweet wanted him. never in his thousands of years of existence had he felt this way. a human reducing him to love? a different version of himself would've been humiliated at the thought, but this version didn't give a damn. not in this imperium. he would take what he wanted, what he cared for, and do anything to protect it.

pet whimpered and sobbed underneath vega's hips, their core on fire with pleasure. his face was in their neck and his hand over their throat, brushing his thumb across their collar every now and then. "beautiful pup... my perfect pet, aren't you? so ready to debase yourself for me... god, you're perfect," the demon mumbled, almost to himself. they nodded, their hands kept obediently at their sides but itching to touch him. they felt their orgasm fast approaching and whined, knowing they couldn’t cum before him—not wanting to cum before him. vega watched them squirm and look away, knowing exactly what that meant. he leaned in by their ear and continued fucking them at the same rhythm.

"ohhh, that's a problem isn't it? you're close. hm, i still cum first. you will not," he declared lowly. pet mewled helplessly, a bit of fear now coursing through them; vega sped up at the taste of it. hands still at their sides, they dug their nails into their thighs to distract themself from the blinding pleasure, tears falling down their face.

nodding feverishly, they cried, "no, i won't! a-anything for you master! i promise! god, you’re—god!”

the demon grinned, their obedience aiding their cause by sending vega nearer to his climax. the desperation in their fight to stave off their own pleasure just because he said so had him rolling his eyes back and rutting into them even harder. then, one more look into their teary eyes and he was done for.

vega's orgasm hit him almost as hard as it ever had in his life, sending rope after rope of cum inside of his pet. their eyes widened and they immediately let go after him, writhing and moaning on the floor. even without direct permission, it was still the best orgasm they'd ever had. their vision went spotty as they came, the waves of ecstasy never seeming to end.

once vega came down, he looked at his pet and guided them back to reality, wiping their tears and staying inside them, not wishing to part. they panted and heaved, breathing in each other's essences and the tangy smell of sex. the demon's hair curtained around them both as he hovered atop them, creating a tunnel of vision that only led to each other's faces. for a split second they were silent, until they both began to smile in unison. soft laughter escaped them as they basked in the haven they created for themselves. the rest of the world could collapse at any moment, but this sacred prison was untouchable.

[mysteryanimator]

As authorities LOL. Thank you for bestowing that title, I’m lost for words HAHA. Also, I'm taking this as a little 'lunch break', so I do apologise if it's a tad all over the place because I'm not spending too long on this. This is again all in good fun, and I require a creative brain teaser >:D

I personally think it would be really interesting if he did have specific abilities, and those abilities would act to actively interfere with daily life, BUT then comes in really helpful/assist him later on when the time comes (life-death situation would be fun)! This would tie into a whole self-acceptance thing, with his abilities a physical indicator of it. Now, the actual type of ability I’d think he’d have, I could not give you a definitive answer because I have ten million, depending on what I want to be conveyed to the hypothetical audience for the hypothetical made-up season 😂

However, an obvious setup personally that would still be REALLY COOL would be making his claws transform into actual weapons/swords, or just have parts of his body protruding, which would allow for a really interesting conversation about being born to be a weapon/protecting others. Existing media examples would be:

Drolta’s night creature self, Miguel O’Hara in ATSV (not just his claws, he has these protruding forearm bits which I think would be interesting if made out of bone), Rex Salazar from Generator Rex (albeit sci-fi but i hope that gives off the vibes I'm talking about), Tokyo ghoul Kagune system (that’s pretty self-indulgent though, always thought Tokyo Ghoul’s commentary surrounding ‘monsters’ was really interesting)

This being paired with the ability to harden (stop laughing I know y’all are laughing 😂) his body parts in a similar vein to Drolta when she goes to attack Annette (... also in Tokyo Ghoul, there is armoured kagune). For Mizrak, it would act imo very similar to how his chain mail worked which would be interesting because he can decidedly shield himself or use it to attack others, again goes in line with what he kinda stands for but you vamp it 🤔 Him also being really melee pairs nicely to Olrox whose more of a distant long range caster and a duo fight scene where they cover each other’s weak points would be so cool👌

(Have I thought about doing an animatic surrounding it ABSOLUTELY, but group fights is a whole different beast, so "I'll do it eventually when I'm not piled with work," pile it goes)

^^ examples

I'm trying to think up pre-existing powers from the games and tying him to any pre-existing characters like Shaft or even Actrise? Mizrak being able to conjure things in the same way Olrox conjures skulls would also be interesting because then you can have some really nice parallels between Emmanuel, Maria, Tera and Olrox. You can tie them all into the "same story" very loosely, HOWEVER, I'm not utterly sold on it simply because Mizrak doesn't feel like a caster, then again its very hard to imagine Mizrak anything but tied to his uniform and his morality-- breaking out of that mould serves as a nice way to go about that arc not just using vampirism, but forcing him with a whole set of abilities he can't comprehend. Definitely an interesting thread to go about!

Ok, thinking about Actrise's ability to summona crystals to create a shield, very interesting because it still works in tandem with Mizrak's more melee "i am protector for those who can't protect themselves" BUT BUT BUT, those powers can nicely run in parallel with Annette's ability to weild rock and metal to her will, and also use it to shield... AND run in parallel with Speaker Magic because of the ice ability. Again, bringing back to all parts of the same stories because Mizrak, Annette, and Tera are loved by Olrox, Richter, and Maria, respectively, and despite them being VERY DIFFERENT, they all OVERLAP VERY INTENTIONALLY, because of the themes of love in the show. To also have them overlap like this power-wise also says a lot for the whole "same story" situation that Alucard establishes in season 2 of Nocturne.

I swear I will art/animatic about this eventually, but for now I must suffice to think pieces :D

Back to work I go! Uhh, feel free to ask me more about this stuff, it's very fun to think about hypotheticals and the what-ifs, either Tumblr or any other place

[transformersconfessions]

I think tf one is a lot worse than the fandom is willing to admit and it makes me feel disappointed that people can't criticise it without being attacked .

I don't think it's a bad movie to introduce new people to the fandom or that it's the worst piece of media Hasbro has released. But it has many weak points that few talk about and the rest are blinded by the fact that we're getting new Transformers content.

Aside from the graphics (which is one of its redeeming qualities), it lacks depth in world-building. (Everything happens in Iacon (not counting the surface). What's 50 cycles in this continuity? How are transformers born that makes it so easy for Sentinel to take their cogs?? There's more examples, but these are the ones at the top of my head).

The characters are hardly fleshed out. Especially for Orion, it's weird that we don't really get a good explanation as to why he's the way he is or how his motivations came to be. And why is he so different to everyone else?? Surely not everyone is just happy to play along with the system?? We never got to know why Bee was in the sublevel 50 or how long he was down there. Elita could've been a much more appealing character if she was allowed to break from the angry and strong woman persona for longer than a few seconds. I have less complaints with D-16, but that's still a few things that bother me about his character. (This is more about personal taste, but I think the name "Megatron" has a lot less impact when Dee was more of a fanboy of Megatronus rather than someone who respected and aimed to be more like the old Prime. Imagine you kill the president and become the leader of an army and the first thing you do is change your name to one inspired by your celebrity crush. How can I take you seriously???)

The pacing was not the worst, but it could've been better. Thing after thing after thing— basically no breaks for you to process everything that happened. More quiet moments, pauses and suspense would've been nice.

The villain trope for Sentinel was a bit too cartoony for my taste. Evil guy whose motivation is power but is also a pathetic coward who bends his will to those stronger than him, and is defeated by the hero after his evil monologue exposing all his crimes gets recorded and forecasted for the whole world to see.

Not exactly what I would call an engaging and intimidating villain.

And speaking of Sentinel, how did he defeat the thirteen Primes that are supposed to be strong and almighty?? Sure, he was aided by the Quintessons, but surely it would've taken more than that?? It's like a case of telling instead of showing except they're showing without telling you how any of that is possible.

The movie was full of conveniences, too. Orion being known by the guards in the Hall of Records yet he was never arrested by them. They literally know how he looks and what his designation is??? Elita happens to be in the right place at the right time. What a coincidence. Bee knows a way out of sublevel 50 yet only could go out after all this time when Orion and Dee arrived? Why not. Gotta wait for the mc's. Bee has a recording from Alpha Trion that we have no idea how it even got there in the first place?? Alpha Trion somehow survived but not the rest of his siblings? The Royal Guard decides to help Orion because Elita is "scary"? That was one of my least favourite scenes because they could've come up with a much better reasoning. How remarkably good all these cogless bots happen to be at fighting? I'll take Orion's agility for his escapades. I'll take the strength for the long hours of work in a harsh environment with heavy compartment to carry. But you're telling me they actually know real combat moves when there's no reason for them to?? Unless Cybertronians come programmed with it (or their borrowed cogs provide them with those skills), I'm not buying it.

This and many more things could be said if we weren't afraid of admitting this film wasn't perfect. I really liked it because of the concept and the new ideas it brought with it, but that's why I'm sad the fandom doesn't do more than just settle for what we have.

I won't claim all my criticism is objective or that it's all correct (I haven't rewatched it recently to assure that I remember all the details), but that's why I invite to be more open to different opinions (even if they're negative), so we can expand on this idea the movie offers.

(I apologize for any typos or grammatical errors. I wrote this in a rush and I have no time to edit it)

*

[tea-stained-notes]

Colin x Penelope - Divide | Chapter 11

Colin has made it: He’s a famous pop star, touring the world, adored to extremes. If only he wasn’t drowning his loneliness and anxiety in too many drinks, missing home and yet incapable of going back. But when Violet falls ill and he reluctantly returns he has to face the mess he has made - not only with his family but also the woman who might have always been the one.

Warnings: illness (cancer), death, anxiety, drug use, alcohol abuse, eventual smut

Chapter word count: ~2100

MASTERLIST

She is the sweetest thing that I know Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low Shakes my soul like a pothole every time - Hearts Don’t Break Around Here

“Are you alright?” Penelope emerges from the en-suite, her eyes filling with concern at the sight of him. Her bare face and oversized t-shirt have startled him — this suddenly feels like something real. Like he could get to see her like this every night. Colin jumps up on wobbly knees, trying to force a smile onto his lips. “Sure.” He picks up his clothes and places a soft kiss on her forehead before hurrying past her into the bathroom. Mechanically he disposes of the condom, freshens up and dresses himself. And suddenly he’s gripping the edge of the sink as he stares at his pale reflection. He doesn’t want to taint the memory of this incredible experience they’ve just shared, but all his demons are already whispering their reproachful questions and accusations. He clenches his eyes shut. No. It’s not over yet. Penelope is waiting and as long as darkness presses against the windows he mustn’t let his mind get the better of him. When he slips under the covers he immediately pulls her into his chest and marvels at the way her presence calms him within seconds. How will he ever stand another cold hotel bed? She starts drawing soothing circles on his ribs. “You’re overthinking, Col.” “And you know me too well.” She draws back a little to smile softly and press her lips to his. It feels so familiar yet still surreal. “I promised you we’d talk about what’s just happened.” “Right. And I still want to. But…” His fingers dig into her loose sleep shirt. “Can we maybe put a pin in this? Just until we’ve both had some time to process?” “Oh. Of course.” “Unless there’s something you really want to—“ “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” Penelope lifts his hand and breathes a kiss onto his knuckles. “Better than okay.” “Yeah?” She snuggles back into his side. “Yeah.” Colin wonders if she wants to pretend as well. That until sunrise they’re safe in their own little world. She has opened the window and a night breeze caresses their still heated skin. Silence settles over them as he traces the lines on her palm.

"Who do you listen to these days?” she eventually mumbles, sleepiness scratching her voice. “Mostly melancholic stuff. Folk from the sixties. Too much Noah Kahan.” “Hmm. His stuff reminds me of your earlier work.” “It does?” “Yes. When the songs still sounded like you. Honest. Handmade.” Colin sighs, his chest tightening. She patiently looks up at him. After a long moment he starts singing quietly. “Hide your secrets, disguise your weakness. And lose yourself inside your busyhead. Burn your bridges and leave no witnesses. All alone inside your busyhead.” He smiles sadly. “I’ve had that one on repeat for years.” Penelope reaches up to caress his temple. “You’re not alone, Colin.” “I am in here,” he whispers, placing his hand over hers. Tears fill her eyes and his stomach cramps painfully. “I keep making you cry, I’m sorry.” “No, it’s alright. I’m so glad you’re opening up about this. It’s just—“ She gently touches her forehead to his. “It pains me to know you’re so unhappy.” Colin carefully frames her face in his palms, wipes her cheeks and presses a kiss into her hair. He lingers for a long moment, his heart in agony at her quiet sniffles. “I’m not just a victim in all this,” he finally murmurs. “I’ve made countless shitty decisions. And maybe this life wouldn’t be so soul-sucking if I could still be proud of my work. I really miss that. Connecting with people over the things I’ve created. I’m so sick of only being known on the surface.” Penelope folds her arms across his chest and props up her chin on them to study him. He starts twirling an auburn lock around his finger. “Remember my first single that went viral, shortly after I’d moved to L.A.?” “Look At Me Now,” she whispers. “I was so desperate for that attention, it was ridiculous really. And now everyone is looking, all the time. But not at me as a person. They’re looking at the massive screens at my shows, at unflattering paparazzi photos, at video snippets from red carpets. And when I meet fans in person they’re so intimidated they can barely talk to me — or they get really intrusive, like those women at the pub. It’s so bloody rare to be asked even a single original question during an interview, to get the feeling that anyone truly listens to what I’m trying to say.” He chuckles bitterly. “And of course I don’t really have anything to say anymore.”

His voice has grown raspy from tiredness and the lump in his throat. “Sorry, I keep talking about myself, it’s—“ “It’s perfectly okay. We’ve talked so much about my work these past few weeks and I still barely know anything about yours. How you feel about it.” “Well, I’m only just beginning to confront that.” He swallows. “When I asked you a couple of weeks ago what you thought of my music, that night we had the impromptu dance party…” “The night I started having massive doubts about Alfred.” Colin hesitates, briefly tempted to ask if she had already felt as strongly as he had then, if she would have actually kissed him had Benedict not interrupted. He nods instead. “Your answer really hurt. Not that you meant it to, I know,” he quickly adds when she opens her mouth to apologise. “You simply said aloud what I hadn’t been able to admit to myself for years. Because staking everything on this, losing and missing all of you, only to realise that I’ve been turned into just another cash cow, that I’m barely an artist at all…” “But if it all pains you so much, why don’t you start over? Step away for a while, regroup, take your time to work on an album that feels like you again.” He flashes her a crooked smirk. “I wish it was that easy. My contract is fucking ironclad. When I told Mae to push back the tour dates indefinitely I didn’t even know if I could afford the fine, should the label sue me. I still don’t.” “What?” Penelope’s head shoots up. “Aren’t you like disgustingly rich by now?” Colin blushes, his gaze dropping to the bed sheet. “I’ve given most of it away. I have a small team tasked with finding worthy causes to donate to. Climate research, HIV prevention, animal shelters, what have you.” “You’ve gone full Dolly Parton?” “Oh please, don’t insult the Queen of Country. I could never be as good as her.” Penelope’s wide eyes soften. “But even without that money, surely you’re established enough to have the upper hand in negotiations?” “It’s never felt like it. But maybe, I don’t know. I should have pushed back more over the years. There have just been so many other… issues. I didn’t have the strength to fight that battle as well.” “Well, I hope you’ll find it.” She presses a kiss to his chest and it warms him through the fabric of his shirt. “You deserve better, Colin. And we’re all here for you.” Now he is the one tearing up. He wonders whether she’s right. Whether this deep sorrow isn’t exactly what he deserves, a grand mess of his own making. And more than anything he wonders if he could ever actually deserve her. If what he has to offer could ever be enough.

But right now she is still here, still looking at him like he means at least a fraction to her of what she means to him. So he gently guides her back to his lips, kisses her until he’s weightless, tethered to nothing but her. They’re both breathless when they part. Penelope’s fingers are playing with the short hair at the base of his neck, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. “I’m sorry for what I said to you the day you came back.” “What do you mean?” “Assuming that you’ve been keeping all that money to yourself. You’ve always been selfless, sometimes to a fault.” “Until I wasn’t and fucked everything up.” “Colin.” Her hand curls around his nape. “At some point you’ll have to stop beating yourself up over that.” “I know,” he murmurs. Then a corner of his mouth twitches up. “Put that on the list, will you?” “Oh, believe me, it’s already on there,” she smirks and he fakes a gasp, tickling her side until she lets out a small giggle. Eventually Penelope snuggles back into his shoulder, once more tracing invisible patterns on his ribs. “You’re probably one of like three proper celebrities who don’t waste their millions on yachts and mansions.” He shrugs. “I had enough luxury growing up. It just adds weight. And I’ve seen enough suffering to feel horrible if I so much as buy a pair of jeans.” “I hope you at least splurge on fair fashion.” “Of course. My little social justice warrior.” She pokes her tongue out at him but he just smiles, running a delicate hand over her hair. “But where do you drop your anchor? You need somewhere that isn’t a hotel room.” “I have a small flat in Paris.” “Paris, eh?” she teases with a French accent. “Is that where you bring all your paramours?” He looks at her, earnest. “Please stop with that. I told you the truth, I promise.” The grin fades from her lips. She searches his eyes for anything but sincerity. Finally, she raises a hand to his cheek. “I know. I’m sorry.” Her thumb strokes gently across his stubble. He exhales. “We took a family trip to Paris once. Back when Dad was still alive. We were all so different then. Carefree.” “So you tried to chase that feeling,” she whispers. “Did it work?” “Not really. But it’s still beautiful. And only a short train ride from—“ He chokes. “Home. It’s still home, Colin. If you want it to be.” He closes his eyes to hide the tears once more forming in them. Penelope presses a kiss to his pulse point. “You could get a flat in London,” she says softly. “Stop by whenever your schedule allows.” “Yeah. Maybe.”

Images flutter through his mind. Of a life so different to the one he’s been leading. Of his own cosy place, a massive dining table and all the Bridgertons crowding around it, ribbing and talking over each other. Laughter in the air. Penelope by his side. Her feet in his lap as she’s types away while he’s strumming a new melody on his guitar. Weekend trips and snow days and summer picnics. Her face in the front row, the only one he sees. And when she gazes up at him with hopeful eyes, he almost tells her. Almost tells her that he wants forever with her. That she has held his heart for most of his life, however much he has denied it. “I should go.” Penelope jerks back. “What?” “I should go,” he repeats, forcing the words out with every bit of willpower he can muster. “I don’t want them to find out about us by seeing me sneak out in the morning.” “Oh.” She swallows. “Okay.” He carefully pushes a loose strand behind her ear. “I don’t regret this, Pen.” But he does. Because now that he knows what it feels like to have her in his arms, how on earth will he recover when things inevitably get ruined? When she realises that this is not what she wants? “Take the morning to think about this,” Colin murmurs. “I will as well. And then we’ll talk, okay?” He grants himself one more kiss, tender and lingering. Then he moves to leave the bed but Penelope grasps his hand. “Wait. Can you…” Her cheeks grow rosy. “Can you please stay a little longer? Just till I’m asleep?” His chest tightens at the sight of her pleading gaze. “Of course.” He lies back down on his side, Penelope facing him, their joined hands between them. She whispers a timid “Thank you” and studies him for a long moment, as if to take in every single detail. Her eyes grow heavier with every second until she finally gives in and lets them fall shut. Colin watches her for what feels like hours, his breath in tune with hers. He carves every sensation into his brain. Her warm skin, her relaxed features, her soft noises, her intoxicating scent. And then, his heart ripping in two, he slips his hand from hers and soundlessly leaves the room.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

CHAPTER 12

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[hana-bobo-finch]

BUG FABLES HEADCANONS AAAAAAAAA🦅🦅🦅💥💥💥 (a LOT of Team Mothiva because if it wasn’t so painfully obvious by now I think they are very awesome)

• Leif’s always been rather inexpressive, but especially so after the whole. Dying thing. His shell was essentially frozen (so to speak) in place, so expressions are hard now if not downright painful to make

• Kabbu looks so incredibly goofy underneath his helmet. It was a common practice in the North to wear armor and such to make yourself look more Intimidating™️

• ascends from the clouds with the headcanon I can never and will never shut up about zzasp…….is trans. cue the round of applause. cue the screaming fans. People are marveling. People in the stands are pissing and shitting and passing out they’re cheering so hard. Because they know. They know that I’m right and—look alright I talk about this SO often but it’s the perfect storm of a headcanon. character I like? Character I like who is my favorite species of bug? character has the physical characteristics of a woman despite being referred to as a man? tailor made for a transmasc wasp lover

• Mothiva has been in many controversies. Zasp and his 70 alternative mothiva stan accounts on the termanet were always there to back her up

• Speaking of those two’s relationship: Zasp is the definition of “I can fix her” except he actually probably could fix her if he just was a bit more assertive with her. there’s a kind moth in there somewhere. deep down. very deep down.

• Elizant I wasn’t as perfect as everyone remembers!! She wasn’t BAD by any means but she’s definitely looked at with rose tinted glasses. She had no malicious intent but she would be rather careless with her search for the everlasting sapling (oh someone died when looking for it? that’s too bad. anyway)

• Leif was wayyy more weak after waking up in snakemouth than he’d let on. His body was pretty atrophied after being trapped in a web for so long and it took him a long time to regain his strength, even with his magic

• Zasp is either the worst singer imaginable or the best. There will never be an in between. I like both ideas, either he’s outperforming mothiva at her own shows or making a fool of himself

• a lot of our phrases carry over to bugnish that, to them, don’t really make logical sense. “like moths to a flame” “why would we run into a flame kabbu” “I. I actually don’t know, I heard someone say it one time. I don’t actually know what it means”

• Vi is SUCH a bad influence on Tod don’t let her around him. Leif tries to limit their direct interactions because how dare you promote violence to The Child.

• Even with Leif’s attempts to be a good influence, Tod is still absolutely determined to become an explorer and has taken up the not so great habit of throwing his toy ball at people as his own little weapon

• Tod also DESPERATELY wants his own beemerang. ADBP. whatever. He calls it a beemerang. Hawk promised he’d get one for him when he was older and more able to handle one, but who knows if that’s true or not?

• Leif’s family (more specifically grandpa) are aware that Leif isn’t telling the full story but they just go along with it to not cause trouble. Like yeah there’s no way in hell you’re my brother but whatever man go ahead you’re a part of the family now I won’t ask questions

• And even if they did ask questions he would NOT answer because that is a one way ticket to getting quarantined for the rest of his life. At least he thinks that’s what happens. Treatments for cordyceps have been developed while he was in snakemouth, but he doesn’t know that and just assumes the fate is the same as when he was young (aka being shunned from the rest of society forever and ever)

• Zasp was from the north near the deadlands, but escaped to the wasp kingdom pretty early on for a better life. Turns out the wasp kingdom was just as bad, he can’t catch a break

• Queen Vanessa II was not at all respected before the whole wasp king debacle. It was the opposite case of Elizant II, instead of being more aggressive than the previous queen she was much more of a pacifist, which didn’t sit well with the people considering they were in the midst of a ton of wars that she was doing a terrible job at fixing. “Our queen your people are killing the other wasps, you need to do something, this is a full on genocide” “idk what to to do, I told them to stop but they didn’t listen :( “

• Many queens of different species share the same hives. How they decided on the official queen of the greater kingdom? Confidential information, but rumors have gone around saying it was via a game of rock paper scissors. There are also rumors that all of the queens are all secretly dating each other so who knows what’s true and what’s not

• speakin of gay queens. Elizant II is, alas, a lesbian. I say alas because it’s sorta her job as Queen to get knocked up and keep the population going so she doesn’t have much choice in the matter. Not all bad though because she gets to have a Secret Love Affair with Zaryant. The sole reason I have this headcanon is that a few weeks ago I snapped awake with the thought “they might be gay-ants” in my head and if I did not plan a plot around that immediately I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep

• domestic silk moths are rare to the point of near extinction. Turns out that being a species reliant on and bred by the giants to the point of losing all survival instincts isn’t great when the giants disappear. Most of them died out even after the day of awakening due to that lingering lack of survival skills, but a few managed to survive with great difficulty

• Mothiva is one of the few domestic silk moths left, something which sounds depressing (and is) but she’s awfully good at spinning it into something enthralling. Oooh look at me look I’m one of the last of my kind, I’m a limited edition moth, come and get me while I’m still here teehee

• ^ SHE IS SERIOUSLY SO MESSED UP BECAUSE OF IT THOUGH. Since most bugs lost their flight after the day of awakening it no longer really matters that her kind can’t fly, but Oh Boy does centuries of domestication do something to you. She had a lot of trouble walking at first, and even once she managed to get that down it hurt like hell. How does she manage to twirl around on stage? with great difficulty. she would greatly benefit from Any sort of mobility aid but “nooo i can’t be seen as weak nooooo” (MOTHIVA STOOOOP PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF)

• that is also a point of contention when it comes to her and Zasp’s relationship. You’re one of the only ones of your kind left and you’re just gonna run off with some random wasp? Unsurprisingly the public is Extremely parasocial when it comes to her, especially her relationships. and Zasp is just a neat little bundle of everything that the media thinks she should Not Be Dating. You’re dating your bodyguard? Who’s not even your own species? Who’s a wasp of all things? A dangerous creature with a dagger attached to his ass that can stab you at any moment? You sure about that?

• speaking of giving bugs chronic pain! Leif is Constantly in pain because fungi are weak against ice and. well. he is a fungus with ice powers so that goes about as well as one could expect. It does more than just make him in pain all the time but I won’t go into it all here because that is what my evil ao3 account is for

• Muse was a singer alongside being an explorer. Not pop idol singer like Mothiva, just doin it for fun. Although many of her songs became incredibly bleak after the whole. husband killed by spider thing.

• to his absolute horror, Leif is somewhat reminded of himself and Muse in Zasp and Mothiva. Awkward dude infatuated with a feisty moth who kicks things? been there done that. Not that he would ever admit to thinking that because he…maybe doesn’t hate, but certainly does not like Mothiva and is always praying for their breakup (not gonna happen Leif I’m sorry 😞)

• Vi’s repressed Fr*nch accent occasionally slips out. She is mocked relentlessly by Leif every time it happens

• Kina’s adopted. She is the only one unaware of this. I have no reason for this headcanon other than that I like the thought of her being like “ugh I can’t believe my bro took in some stray from the street 😒😒😒😒” girl you Are the stray from the street

that’s all I can remember off the top of my head but there are probably many more i am sooo normal about the bugs

NOPE NOPE NOPE I JUST REMEMBERED ONE MORE. there haven’t been many instances of bees doing the fabled Bee Ball (swarming an intruder and baking them alive) because they aren’t the specific species who do it, but wasp children are often told horror stories of the Bee Ball. it’s colloquially known as Bee Fever because of the whole baking alive thing and has become a bit of a folktale. Most wasps/hornets know they aren’t at much of a risk but many have nightmares of being the victim of a Bee Ball

[moeblob]

OC OTP. Just a prince (Ego, the ginger) and his wonderful energy alien fiance (Serenity) who he doesn't know is an energy alien. Ego also doesn't know that the future marriage is never going to happen and he's been lied to his whole life.

[froggie-at-home]

alabaster can hide food with his magic and carry it around in his cards. it's way better than any fridge, because food is always hot and fresh like it was just cooked. he always has some on him so he doesn't have to worry about getting starved, like he how did before he joined TA.

will was sick and malnourished when he got kicked out of CHB. he was the only medic with good enough training and who could heal at camp since manhattan happened, so he was always overworking himself. his younger siblings weren't great at healing and apollo wasn't responding to them, so he was the only healer that about twenty kids a day would visit. chiron wasn't always here to help either.

so when al found will he was more than happy to share his food. after traveling and staying together at keeseville for months will recovered back to perfect health and was happier than ever, not having to use his powers every minute a day to save another kid who got their head open falling off the lava wall.

bonus: will knows how to cook thanks to lee (who grew up looking after his little cousins and his sick grandma), so alabaster saves up fresh fruit, vegetables and sometimes meat so will can get something ready for them. it's like a coping mechanism to him, something to get his hands busy with when he gets that itch, when his hands get a little too hot.

(al tried to help him cook, but he almost burnt down the kitchen while kneading the dough. even claymore was disappointed.)

[spectral-honey]

Civilian Tim au where hes one of those guys whose job it is to just try to break into places just to see if he can

[dallasstarsdyke]

something i was thinking about on stand yesterday.. danganronpa shsl lifeguard who tries to save a dying person they find, bonus points if they dont come clean about it at first because they think they actually killed that person with their efforts