#(i tryed to do something with a galaxy theme but....)

[antianakin]

Ok, this was meant to be a comparison of how I feel about this SPECIFIC TROPE in order to justify my criticism of how it was done with Bix so that no one could argue with me that the reason I didn't like it was because I didn't care for the trope IN GENERAL. I chose Hera specifically because, to my memory, she is the only other character IN STAR WARS that got given the exact same trope, not because I wanted to do a Filoni and Gilory comparison.

But you know what? Fine. Let's look at it again with that in mind.

I do think that comparing Gilory and Filoni's work within Star Wars is already inherently flawed because they're both coming at it from WILDLY different perspectives and with wildly different goals.

Filoni is trying to make sure his work LOOKS like Star Wars, SOUNDS like Star Wars, and really leans into nostalgia bait over nearly anything else (especially in his more recent work). He's a massive Star Wars fan writing officially licensed fanfiction which means he loves referencing Legends all the time, bringing in cameo after cameo, utilizing tons of known locations as opposed to making new ones and really exploring those new locations, so on and so forth. It's more important to him that his work has the correct VIBE than that it's a well written story most of the time. It's always got lightsabers and lightsaber battles and Jedi and Sith and stormtroopers and Mandos in armor and lots of aliens and people saying the Star Wars catchphrases and swear words. And it is always still aimed at kids. Regardless of whether you think kids' stories should have heavy storylines in them, I think it's hard to deny that his work is still AIMED AT KIDS much like Lucas's work always was.

Gilroy is trying to make a story that feels like it fits within the world of Star Wars from an adult perspective. He's NOT a Star Wars fan and has claimed that his superpower is that he "doesn't care." I think what he's trying to say with that is that he's not really all that worried about making sure his story is checking off all of the Star Wars boxes that make it look and sound like it's a Star Wars story. But he DOES care about making his story seem like it could be set within the world of the galaxy far far away, but instead of relying on nostalgia bait and catchphrases to do it, he treats the world of Star Wars like a PERIOD PIECE. Not everything in the galaxy far far away uses a lightsaber or has the Force or wears armor. He doesn't feel the need to populate his show with tons of aliens or make his characters say specific catchphrases in order to make it feel like Star Wars. Gilroy isn't trying to make a story for children, he's making an adult story within the world of Star Wars and it's more important to him to focus on these characters and how they move within the world and making sure that the story gets across the essential themes and messages of Star Wars correctly.

Gilroy I'd argue is far far better at giving his world that gritty lived in feel that the Original Trilogy had (and which The Mandalorian had initially but has lost more recently), while Filoni (and Favreau these days to some degree) are better at creating the big flashy colorful epic adventure feeling that Star Wars has often been known for.

There are obviously pros and cons to both of these approaches. Gilroy's approach allows him to really hone in on the characters and the way this world might more realistically impact them, but it misses out on a lot of the things that Star Wars fans tend to come to Star Wars FOR (lightsabers, the Force, Jedi, big action scenes) and obviously does eliminate Star Wars' biggest demographic: children. Filoni's approach allows him to create a story with the perfect Star Wars vibes, something that truly FEELS LIKE STAR WARS because it's checking off each little box, but it can tend to feel like it comes at the expense of telling a good story and the stories start to feel like they're just regurgitating the same thing over and over again because it refuses to do anything new with new characters out of fear that people won't be invested in it if it doesn't include all of the Right Stuff.

Personally, for me, I prefer Gilroy's approach to worldbuilding over Filoni's. I think it's more creative and does focus on the characters themselves more than checking off the correct boxes. I also personally prefer a story that ensures it keeps the same overall THEMES AND MESSAGES of Star Wars even if it veers from the usual LOOK AND SOUND of Star Wars. Filoni I think has his own take on what the message of Star Wars is and how the characters fit into that and his loyalty to Lucas's Star Wars tends to start and end with the visuals. For some people, it's more important for their Star Wars story to have those familiar visuals, to see lightsabers and Jedi/Sith and lots of aliens even if the overall message is pretty different from what the original films were trying to say.

For me, that's not really Star Wars. Star Wars is the story and its characters and that message about choices and selflessness and hope (although I think hope is a little simplistic and people focus on that to the exclusion of the other two and lose the nuance of the story). I don't really care that Andor didn't have a lot of aliens in it or that it didn't tend to have that many action scenes in it because what it DID have was a message about learning to let go of your own desires instead of clinging to them long beyond the point when it's clear that they aren't reasonable to cling to. It had a message about learning to make sacrifices for the greater good as something that allows you to come home to yourself. And THAT'S what made Andor feel more like Star Wars to me than anything Filoni has made recently.

This isn't to say Andor did this perfectly, I think there's a number of places in season 2 where it didn't quite hit the mark on those themes and messages, places where the character development didn't match what it seemed like the story was trying to say, so on and so forth. But I tend to prefer Andor's overall vision still more than what we're starting to see in Filoni's work, especially the Ahsoka show which is something he worked on almost exclusively and therefore is the easiest comparison to make.

As for the female characters, I think I still prefer what we saw in Andor to what we have seen in Filoni's more recent work, specifically in the Ahsoka show (again, the easiest comparison to make because Filoni had so much control over the final product whereas something like Rebels had way more people working on it beyond just Filoni).

The Ahsoka show has more female characters as main characters who interact with each other and are important to each other's narratives, yes, I'll give you that. But those characters are also flat as all fuck with practically zero personality and are almost indistinguishable from each other and their personal narratives all tended to revolve around men, too. For Ahsoka, it's her relationship to Anakin and how that's impacted her. For Sabine, it's her relationship to Ezra and her desperation to get him back. For Hera, it's also her desperation to find Ezra and her conflict with Senator Xiono. For Morgan, it's her desperation to find Thrawn and her loyalty to him. For Shin, it's her relationship to Baylan and how the termination of that affects her. The relationship between Sabine and Hera barely exists in the Ahsoka show, you wouldn't even know they HAD a relationship if you hadn't seen Rebels. The relationship between Ahsoka and Sabine mostly happened off screen and we have to get TOLD about that relationship by other characters (both of whom are male, Baylan and Huyang) and they really barely get any real development of that relationship WHILE TOGETHER. Sabine, Hera, and Ahsoka all feel so completely different from prior iterations of these characters that they may as well have been original characters and they also feel like they've been turned into mouthpieces for Filoni's personal theories about Star Wars as opposed to characters with their own agency. Their choices aren't being made because it's what feels natural for this character, but because it's what will allow them to say the thing Filoni wants them to say about this world. This makes them feel more like puppets in a Star Wars PSA than real characters in a story.

Andor's female characters aren't necessarily given STUPENDOUS narratives in season 2, I have plenty of issues I've discussed in other posts about what was done with Bix in particular. I'm not a fan of what was done to Cinta and Vel, either. A lot of this has to do with the condensed timeline where they chose to turn four seasons into one and so the poor characters are just kind-of jumping around with no room to breathe or develop from one arc or even episode to the next. That being said, these characters do generally tend to feel LIKE REAL CHARACTERS IN A STORY as opposed to Gilroy's personal little mouthpieces for his feelings on Star Wars. Bix's development was all over the place, but at least she isn't being used to just sit there and talk about why the Jedi suck or why the Republic is a piece of shit or something like that. I am willing to say that, as much as Bix's narrative didn't WORK, I think it also felt like I could see where the narrative was MEANT to be and how it could've been stitched together if they'd had more time to really flesh it out. Same with Vel and Cinta, and Mon Mothma. I can see where these pieces would've fit together to create a good interesting cohesive whole, but unfortunately we didn't get the entire story and so instead of an interesting nuanced cohesive story, we just get these random clipshots of that story that don't make sense anymore without the context they should've had.

As frustrating as that is, I find I'm more willing to forgive Andor's condensed structure making the female characters' narratives less coherent, especially because the same thing happened to literally ALL of the characters regardless of gender, but also because I can see the places where the narrative does CARE about them and wanted to provide an interesting nuanced story for them that was specific to what that character had gone through. They don't talk to each other all that often, and when they do it's usually about the male characters, but at least they feel like real characters. To me, that's even more of a basic need than the Bechdel test. You can get to the Bechdel test after the characters feel like PEOPLE and not mouthpieces for the author's agenda.

None of the female characters in the Ahsoka show were likeable to me. None of them. They're all self-righteous, greater-than-thou assholes with the flattest of possible personalities both at the beginning and the end which allows them exactly zero depth or development. The female characters in Andor at least often end up LIKEABLE, we can see a range of actual emotions on their faces, and they do generally seem different by the end of the story than they do at the beginning, even if that development is missing in-between the arcs. For the most part, these are characters you CAN get invested in on their own merit with relationships that feel genuine and believable because the actors were allowed to actually ACT, and that honestly means so much more to me than the Bechdel test. That's a more basic need for me than the Bechdel test.

I am happy to critique the fact that Andor's female characters don't pass it (or not often anyway) and the issues with the writing for them in season 2 and how it could've been done better, but the comparison between Hera and Bix in the original post was not to say that Filoni was able to write better than Gilory or that Filoni's treatment of female characters is any better than Gilroy's. It was SOLELY done because Hera is the only other Star Wars character I know whose story included that trope. But guess what? Filoni's treatment of Hera in the Ahsoka show is ABOMINABLE, so it's not like he's even consistent at doing well with the exact same character that he created on his own. Hera loses all nuance in the Ahsoka show and, much like literally every other female character on the Ahsoka show, is reduced to a caricature of a Strong Female Character TM. I'm not actually interested in watching a bunch of Strong Female Characters talk to each other and would far rather see a few interestingly nuanced female characters who don't always get to interact with each other go through a real narrative and have real emotions.

Your mileage may vary, of course, other people may feel like the Bechdel test stuff is more basic needs than having the characters be more nuanced and fleshed out, but that's my take on it I suppose. I also feel like this is another case of Filoni checking off boxes. He had the female characters talk to each other! About something other than a man! And then it ends there because Filoni is a surface level writer who is more interested in nostalgia bait and spectacle than character development. So if all you need in your Star Wars is to have two conventionally attractive women in armor or with lightsabers (or both) being generally badass in big action packed set pieces and spouting off one liners and catchphrases, Filoni and Favreau have everything you could possibly want in your Star Wars female characters. If you're more interested in female characters with depth but who don't necessarily do any real fighting and might spend most of their narratives talking to other people and whose bad decisions ARE usually recognized as bad decisions with real genuine consequences, Filoni and Favreau are never going to give you what you want. They just aren't.

Take that with a grain of salt, I suppose, and do what you will with it, but that's my opinion on this comparison. I think we're comparing apples and oranges a bit still, but in terms of overall treatment of Star Wars and its female characters, this is where I land on them.

So I don't actually hate the trope of the tragic baby reveal in general, and you know how I know that? Because I didn't hate it when it happened to Hera Syndulla. But here's the difference between Hera and Bix. It never felt like Hera's entire narrative arc in that last season was built explicitly to try to lead to that reveal of the baby. Hera's narrative isn't reliant on telling us that the destinies of the men around her were more important than she was, and she never has to leave the fight in order to have the baby. It never felt like Hera's character got completely undone in order to write her out of the story just so they could have a shot of her looking idyllically beautiful in a field while holding a baby.

Cliches aren't inherently negative and they CAN work because they're usually popular for a reason, but it's also so so easy to do them in a way that just feels lazy instead of meaningful.

[insomnova]

wish i knew what to do with this helpless frustration i feel every time i see people vilify the jedi for their way of life when the person doing the vilification doesn't even understand them properly. it's one thing to criticize and dislike them if you have an accurate picture of who they were and what they're trying to do vs. hating them because you straight up don't understand them at all 😭

[izzytheloser12]

I finally got back into digital art!

this was really fun to do but holy shit was it hard to figure out.

i mostly experimented with it lol.

[lovesickeros]

Your writing is actually like so good like i literally can't do that stuff even tho I have written for God knows how many years atp like,,, HOW?? I COULDNT EVEN COME UP WITH A SIMPLE COMPLIMENT AND YET YOU WROTE

“Your eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded me of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of your eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left me feeling lightheaded and breathless.” - even the gods bleed [pt 2]

JSHDHDJDJDN THANK YOU???? I worry all the flowery language feels awkward but i am a sucker for things like that i shove it into every fic i can..glad 2 know yall like it 🏃‍♂️

im also just incredibly dramatic. it's a careful balance between being descriptive enough to get my themes across but not enough to alienate any readers and if I can't describe colors then I'm going to be a menace to society and describe it in the most vague way possible. enjoy ur 500 word description of a plate /j

[kxsagi]

Salutationsss, hiii, I'm the same anon that sent a request, something abt a nerd readerr, I'm sorry for requesting when you weren't taking at the time! I didn't see 😔. But could I req that same trope again?? Thank so much you for your time!

“𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 🤓☝️”

a/n: hiii you’re all good, but unfortunately i don’t have that request anymore so i’m not sure what specifically you requested

bc of that, i turned this into headcanons and i hope you don’t mind! 

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, bachira meguru

isagi yoichi

yoichi thought he was smart until he started dating you. like sure, he knows tactics, he’s got game IQ, but you? you’re out here solving riddles on a whiteboard like it’s nothing. 

he once asked if you wanted to watch a documentary with him and you said “only if it’s narrated by joe dispenza or has a plot twist at the 30-minute mark.” 

he genuinely thinks you have a superpower. how else do you know this much random stuff? 

"you know how many stars are in the milky way galaxy?" you ask. "no," he says. "good. neither do scientists. but i will ruin your sleep schedule by explaining dark matter." 

yoichi gets this glazed-over look when you go off, like he’s watching god speak through you. 

“bro, how do you know all this?” he whispers in awe as you explain entropy using a sandwich. 

he’s not even mad when you correct his grammar in front of people. in fact, he gets a little flustered. "did you just… teach me something in public? … hot. whatwhosaidthat." 

itoshi rin

rin fell for you after overhearing you quote dostoevsky and then immediately say “but also, the scooby-doo gang was gay-coded.” 

he will die before admitting how hot he finds your brain. like, he’ll glare at you when you start infodumping about the history of the guillotine, but that glare is just him trying not to fall for you. 

you send him 20-slide powerpoints at 3 AM about why light yagami was right, and he reads every single one. he’s unwell. 

once he saw you organizing your bookshelf by theme, subgenre, and emotional damage, and he just… stood there. watching. blinking. 

“you okay?” you ask. “… can i kiss you right now or is that, like, a breach of the fibonacci sequence or whatever.” 

he has an entire notes app folder full of weird phrases you say. once you said “i want to kiss you under the fluorescent lights of an abandoned lab” and he had to take a walk. 

god help anyone who tries to outsmart you because rin doesn’t even jump in to help. he just steps aside like, “yeah, go ahead. she’s got it.” 

itoshi sae

sae met you once and immediately started saying “shut up, nerd” in the most loving tone imaginable. 

like yeah he acts unbothered, but if you stop talking about your interests for five seconds he’s like “… why’d you stop?” 

you once brought a clipboard and a graph to explain how his sleep schedule is ruining his skin elasticity. he hasn’t eaten sugar since. 

he’s obsessed with how you argue. like, someone will say, “i didn’t really like that movie” and you’ll go, “well actually, the entire point of the cinematography was to mimic isolation, so your brain’s just too small for the themes.” 

and sae’s in the corner nodding proudly like “yeah. eat ‘em alive, baby.” 

he won’t ever admit it out loud, but if you ever stopped being smart? he would simply perish. 

also: he absolutely starts fights on twitter just to screenshot them and send them to you like “babe, look what this idiot said. go ruin him.” 

kaiser michael

oh he lives for this. the way you ramble about history and sprinkle in “violence”? he is down BAD. 

kaiser will interrupt you mid-rant just to be annoying. like you’re explaining molecular structures and he goes “explain it to me like i’m five… and make it sexy.” “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” “well then i am the powerhouse of this relationship.” “please stop talking.” 

if you cosplay? he is fully in character. fake accent. dramatic monologue. he once spent $200 on a fake sword just to match your anime aesthetic. 

calls you “my little google doc” or “professor schatz” in public and refuses to stop. 

he 100% cheats off your notes if you take a class together. 

also once used your obsession with linguistics as an excuse to kiss you mid-sentence: “wait wait, how do you pronounce lo–” smooch “oops. distracted you. guess i win.” 

you're the only person on earth that can out-argue him. and he loves it. even when you humiliate him in a debate club meeting in front of six people. especially then. 

mikage reo

rich. nerd. simp. this man once bought you a whiteboard wall so you could explain conspiracy theories and niche film symbolism uninterrupted. 

he funds your hobbies like it’s a government project. need 72 highlighters in pastel? boom. got ‘em. a limited edition sailor moon notebook with gold foil? already shipped. “i just need this for journaling, reo.” “you mean world domination. say less.” 

he loves pretending he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about just to hear you explain it like a teacher. 

he’ll sit there all wide-eyed like, “woah, tell me more about black holes.” 

you once built a 3D model of the solar system for fun. he walked in, saw saturn, and said, “hey babe. just like saturn, i’ll adorn you with the most beautiful rings in the universe.” 

he once got jealous because you were paying more attention to your manga than him. “you’ve been reading for three hours.” “i’m at the part where they confess their undying love, you can’t interrupt now–” “… i’ll confess my undying love right now if it gets me eye contact.” 

nagi seishiro

nagi doesn’t understand a single thing you’re talking about, but he loves the way you talk. 

you could be explaining the lifecycle of a parasite and he’d just go “cool... say that again but slower. it sounded pretty.” 

he gets very attached to your reading time. you’ll be curled up with a book and he’ll just drape himself over you like a weighted blanket and nap while you whisper lore. 

you tried to teach him a game strategy once using chess pieces and he got bored halfway through and started kissing your neck. “sei, focus.” “i am focused. on the smartest person i know.” 

he secretly loves it when you make schedules, take notes, organize everything – he feels calmer with your brain leading the way. 

you once said, “i’d choose you even in a logic simulation.” and he got so flustered he forgot how to hold his phone for five minutes. 

shidou ryusei

you are the one person on earth who intimidates him. not because you’re loud, but because you’re smart and savage. 

he’ll say something like “gravity’s a myth” and you’ll deadpan, “so is your personality.” 

he flirts with you just to hear what kind of insults you’ll hurl back. 

you’ll be like “actually, that’s a misinterpretation of the theory of relativity” and he’ll be like “wow. you wanna kiss me or correct me harder, nerdzilla?” 

he once called your bookshelf a “nerd shrine” and you kicked him out. he came back with snacks and a post-it that said “i’ll behave if you teach me about the holy trinity”. 

he thinks it’s hilarious when you use big words. starts repeating them wrong on purpose. “you’re being extremely cacophonous right now.” “aw, thanks. i try.” 

he says he doesn’t care about your trivia. but the next week, he quotes you during a fight with a ref. “well actually, statistically speaking, you’re 73% more likely to suck.” 

karasu tabito

karasu walked in on you doing sudoku while eating spicy ramen and watching a documentary and went, “yep. that’s my girl.” 

he teases you constantly but don’t let that fool you – he brags about you to everyone. “yeah, she solved a murder mystery in two minutes. sexy, right?” 

he once found your annotated copy of crime and punishment and was like “damn, she’s not just a menace, she’s an educated menace.” 

he makes fun of your color-coded calendar, but then uses it religiously. 

calls your bookbag your “bat-nerd utility belt.” 

you once said “i organize chaos with knowledge” and he choked on his water because how are you both terrifying and hot at the same time. 

he 100% made you a trivia quiz as a date activity and cried when you got a perfect score. 

“i can’t even spell aesthetic,” he sniffled. “but you… you're a weapon of intellect.” 

bachira meguru

bachira thinks your brain is the eighth wonder of the world. he stares at you when you talk like you’re casting a spell. 

he mimics you when you start nerding out. “so actually, the evolution of language–” 

“babe, are you possessed again? blink twice if you’re still in there.” 

he brings you weird niche books from secondhand stores and is like “i got this because it looks cursed. i knew you’d love it.” 

he once watched you do a sudoku puzzle and got jealous of the numbers. “why are you smiling at that box like that.” 

loves playing study music and drawing you while you read. your “reading face” is his favorite thing ever. 

he doesn’t get half the things you say but if someone else calls you a nerd? he’s biting ankles. no hesitation. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[sightseertrespasser]

Odds of Survival part 9

Jazz has an itty bitty teeny weeny severe mental breakdown.

Credit once more to @keferon for starting this au.

———————————————————————

Jazz never thought he’d find himself deeply empathizing with the xenomorph from Alien, but here he was.

Doing freak shit.

A lone lifeform trapped on a spaceship with no idea how their technology works, no means of escape and no way to sustain themselves. Skittering across the ceiling and one wrong move away from murdering someone on contact.

Plus, I pop out of my mecha like an actual motherfucking chest burster. So I’m sure that’ll go over GREAT.

The parallels were compounding into existential crisis territory.

It got way too fucking close handling that checkup with the medic. Trying to keep his cool felt like he was trapped in an hours long quick time event. Every question had to be snap judged for the safest possible answer. Completely make shit up and risk getting caught in the act, don’t give away any information and they’ll know you’re hiding something.

Jazz juggled that damn Catch 22 like a professional. Thank you.

Case in point, while one of his mechas arms was still non functional, Jazz managed to maneuver his actual arm inside the cabin to grope around for some water to chug. Without disconnecting from the mecha.

That particular stunt felt like splitting his brain in half with a splintery wedge. The water was absolutely necessary, but the pressure inside his skull rang like an air horn zip-tied open.

Right now the only coherent thought he could form was the overwhelming animal desire to find a dark hidden hole and crawl up inside it. Then repeat that motion by disconnecting from his mecha, finding the most secure hiding spot inside that, and passing out for oh just a quick little 24 to 36 hours.

The pilot paused. Down the hall, mechas- giant alien robots- had noticed his disappearance. Even through the language barrier, Jazz would recognize the opening lyrics to his personal theme song anywhere: “Oh fuck where’d he go?”

Hidden behind rows of pipes, Jazz counted his inhalations until the thuds of metal feet passed him by.

Was the alien invader from The Thing scared? If it had finished building its spaceship would the Thing really have tried to take over the world? Or was it just desperate to go home?

Jazz was panting. Or maybe hyperventilating. He made a conscious effort to pull air through his grit teeth at an even flow. Even though he couldn’t actively feel his human body, the dull droning dread pressed through the disconnect to whisper “You’re running out of time.”

He didn’t know how long he had left before his stupid flesh sack would start giving out, but he needed to be somewhere safe when it happened. He’d make it. He’d make it because he had to to make it. He was the best goddamn pilot in the entire program and that was for one reason and one reason alone: Failure Was Not A Motherfucking Option.

If his options were do it the hard way or not at all, then the hard way was what the world got.

Once the guards passed, Jazz slunk along the wall, reaching upside down to fry another security pad, only for the door to open automatically.

Risking it, Jazz peaked into the room and not seeing or hearing anyone, slipped inside.

Once the door slid shut behind him, Jazz lowered himself to the ground one handed, scanning the room more thoroughly.

More screens, inactive. A chair and a couch. Miscellaneous wall kibbling, a table, cabinets. Windows.

Jazz gasped.

Glowing clouds of light, layered like sheets stretching into infinity. Star clusters like paint splatters on black velvet.

White and amber. A haze of something pink.

Unconsciously, Jazz moved towards the window, until he could lightly tap his visor against the glass. His field of view consumed by galaxies.

Back when they first launched him into space, Jazz had come to terms with the let down that all he’d get to see was a black slate and maybe a couple dots. The space station didn’t have many windows to start with, and all his space walks took place when the sun was “out”, so Jazz never really got to see as much of the Milky Way as his inner child hoped.

Now, the child was quiet. Face pressed against the glass, Jazz felt his throat closing up.

At least I got this. Even if I’ve got a half life, I got to see the stars the way they were meant to be.

He hovered. Wanting to find a song to match this moment, but couldn’t find anything more fitting than his own breathing. The rush of blood in his ears was still loud, but a white noise that could substitute for silence.

Like a marble rolling off a table, Jazz felt his stomach drop a moment before his conscious mind could follow.

“It’s wonderful isn’t it?”

Jazz had his arm cocked back to turn the poor fuckers face into a plate but locked himself mid swing at the last second. The mech had lifted a tablet to protect himself, and the move was such a Bullied Nerd cliche it stopped Jazz cold.

Now that his heart rate was breaking highway speed limits again, the angry radio static that was his racing thoughts drowned out any coherent thoughts of what to say.

The mech peeked out from behind the tablet and wow. That’s a guy. That’s just a straight up dude. Prowl and Elita were bulky enough that Jazz could at least imagine where a pilot could sit. But this guy? He looked like the only thing he could throw out was his back. Jazz didn’t even know “elderly twink” was a look possible for a giant robot.

Mystery Codger was staring at him. Jazz still had a fist raised.

Do something say something do something say something you fucked up you fucked up either kill him or start lying just do anything brain please.

“Could you help me find my glasses?”

Jazz faltered. “Wu- What?”

The mech uncurled from his brief defensive huddle. “My glasses? Spectacles? Ah, object-sight-improve-positive?”

The pistons in his arm faintly hissed as the tension released.

Maybe-

As if this was all normal, the mech gently set the tablet on the table, before squatting and squinting at the floor.

Maybe I just have actual brain damage.

Acting on mental autopilot, Jazz took the opening to behave like a normal person. Crouching and scanning the floor for giant alien robot spectacles.

“My name is Rung by the way. I actually don’t think we’ve met previously.” Rung said that last bit with an odd inflection Jazz didn’t have the brain power to think about.

“Jazz. We definitely haven’t met.” He couldn’t quite keep the exhaustion from making that last bit come out snippy.

Rung simply hummed and continued his search. For his part, Jazz was taking the moment to center himself, preparing the best mask he could on short notice.

How long could he keep faking it? Prowl had been with him since he woke up and he didn’t show any signs of needing to sleep. They had doctors. Prowl cared enough about his “health” to take him to one. If Jazz collapsed in front of anyone, they’d drag his sorry ass back to the medbay and it’d be game over. He couldn’t just ask for a place to crash or else he ran the risk of tipping them off he wasn’t one of them if they really didn’t sleep.

A faint tapping sound made him twitch in his stupor.

“Now where could the blasted thing have gone.” Rung was sat crossed legged on the ground.

With Jazz. Who’d vaguely crumbled into a kneeling ball under a table.

Jazz stared at Rung tapping his glasses against his chin. The orange mech made eye contact, and Jazz swore to god he caught him smile.

He reached out a hand, pointing, “Found ‘em.”

The smile came to fruition. Rung aha-ed and held his glasses before himself, inspecting them fondly.

“All that trouble for such a small problem. And all I needed was to ask for help.”

Jazz let himself sag slightly against the wall. Dully thudding the back of his head. “Okay. I’ll cop that was a good trick.”

“It did pull you out of your spiral didn’t it?” Rung said sounding way too smug. He pulled a cloth out from where-ever-the-fuck and cleaned his glasses with it.

He’d been seeing these mechs pull out and disappear objects all day like a bunch of Looney Toons characters. That kind of lapse in logic didn’t bode well for Jazz’s mental condition.

He let his eyes close, rationing his remaining focus.

“How’d you know that’d work?” He mumbled.

“You seemed afraid. You stalled out when you saw I was afraid.” Rung simply stated before he then asked rhetorically, “You’re a protector aren’t you?”

Jazz made a noncommittal sound. Lying was his first impulse, but he really didn’t feel like giving this guy more material to hook him with.

The mech laughed once anyways, “You are. Unorthodox too. I can see why you have such a hold over Prowl.”

That got his attention, “I do?”

“Oh yes.” He heard Rung shift into a more comfortable position on the floor. “Even if he can’t recognize the feeling anymore, I think you give him hope.”

Jazz wanted to laugh and he would if he had the energy.

Instead Jazz sighed. “I’m kinda at rock bottom right now man. And currently? Lil bit fresh outta hope myself.”

And ideas.

Jazz was of the opinion that any problem was solvable if you were willing to get crazy enough, but this was like trying to solve treading water a million miles from shore with only sharks for company. He either drown slowly or get torn apart the moment the sharks realized he was there.

“Hopeless mechs don’t stop to stare at the stars in wonder, Jazz.” When he opened his eyes, Jazz saw Rung staring him down like he was insulted. “To be hopeless is to let yourself die. Do you intend to die today?”

“No.” He challenged back, body minutely tensing.

“Are you willing to do absolutely anything to keep living?” Rung poked him in the chest.

“Yes.” He responded just as quickly, but there was a rasp to his voice. Something small and quiet. Not easily caught. Not easily killed.

“Even ask for help?” Rung quirked his head at him, shit eating grin growing by the second.

Jazz deflated, groaning loud enough for his mecha’s speakers to vibrate his bones.

“Look, I appreciate the therapy session doc, but asking for help is legitimately not an option for me right now.”

Rung leaned forward, resting his chin on a servo, “Alright then. List your current alternative options that you alone can accomplish, devoid of any assistance whatsoever.”

Jazz didn’t respond.

The silence continued to linger.

“Go on.” Rung gestured.

Cornered, Jazz could feel his horns pin back and a burning sensation in his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his visor even though it didn’t actually help.

“Where’s Prowl?”

Rung chuckled, victorious. The scrawny orange mech scooted out from under the table and stood, offering a servo to Jazz to do the same.

The brief rest left Jazz jelly limbed, which was evidently bad enough to translate to a faint tremble in his mecha. Despite that, Jazz didn’t take Rungs hand because there’s no way in hell that guy could support him if he fell. Elita’s threat over harming her crew was still fresh and shiny in his mind.

“You’ll find his office down that way.” Rung pointed out the direction. “Down the hall, turn left at the first junction, pass by two more doors, turn right at that junction and then keep walking until you reach the end of the hall. His office isn’t labeled but I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

Rung opened the door and then took a seat in the chair next to the couch. “I’d offer to have Prowl come to meet you here, but I have another appointment coming up shortly.”

Oh uh. He actually is a therapist.

Jazz laughed humorlessly, “Why not invite them to join the party? Make it a group session.”

Avoiding eye contact, Rung fiddled with a stylus, “Ah, that would not do I’m afraid. My next patient recently figured out how to “bite” people by quickly jabbing his helm forward and I’d rather that not be your first encounter with him.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Jazz simply nodded numbly.

He paused at the doorway, running the directions through his head again, before turning back slightly. “Hey Rung? Thanks.”

“It’s Rung, and you’re… welcome?” The mech trailed off, looking at Jazz with surprise as the door slid shut behind him.

Walking away, Jazz got about thirty feet before realizing he couldn’t turn his head too quickly or else he’d start seeing double. Feeling the countdown drop into double digits, Jazz hurried along Rungs path.

And nearly crashed into another mech.

It had a head like an old school security camera, a single yellow camera lense cycling down to a pinprick at his appearance. The chassis was crazy long and pointed. Out of habit, Jazz tried mapping out what the interior would look like. The pilot seat would need to be horizontal but it was pretty doable. The limbs were definitely on the skinny side but sharp and fast looking. Bonus points for what was definitely front mounted guns.

All in all, solid design. 7/10.

“Hey.” The mech rasped.

Oh fuck right, Alien.

“Sup.” Jazz replied eloquently.

The camera lense eye loosed, upgrading to a coin sized pupil and clearly looking him over.

“Empurata?” The mech said casually pointing to his legs and visor.

“Uh, sure.” Jazz shrugged.

“Same.” Nodded camera-head.

“Cool.”

The two of them awkwardly stood in the hall. Camera-head seemed content to block traffic and Jazz was mentally banging rocks together in hopes of getting a spark of intelligent thought.

“Can I peel off your visor with a knife?”

The mech held a dagger pinched between its crab claws and Jazz had to bite his tongue not to ask why it didn’t just use those.

Instead, the brain rocks came through.

“Rung lost his glasses.” Jazz threw up a thumb, gesturing over his shoulder. “Needs help. Now.”

Good job brain rocks.

“What? He does?” The mechs head popped up like some kind of fucked up goose, before shoving past Jazz, knocking him into the wall.

“HOLD ON DOC I’M COMING!”

The mech folded inside out into a mother fucking helicopter?! Charging down the hall in a whirlwind so strong Jazz could feel it through his mecha.

Jazz counted to five, and crawled back up into the safety of the ceiling pipes.

He blinks, and he’s staring down another hall. Left turn, two doors, right turn. . . Wait. Was that a right or left he just did? He’s upside down so everything should be reversed right?

He doesn’t remember blinking but the hall is at a different angle. New hall? Or did he just turn his head?

Jazz wants to press the heels of his palms into his eyes until everything holds still but he can’t. So he keeps moving. Keeps hiding.

And then he sees the most beautiful goddamn mech in the universe marching down the hall. Followed by half a dozen substantially less impressive mechs with guns drawn.

Stilling, Jazz remained hidden behind the pipes. Evidently alien robots had the same peripheral blindness to ceilings that human security guards did, as none of them noticed him.

Except for Prowl.

Through the gaps, Jazz watched as Prowl gave rapid fire orders to the armed soldiers behind him. Six mechs. Six guns. Three too many for Jazz to take in his current state. Prowl went silent and his wings twitched. Shivering, Jazz got the deeply uncanny sense he was being intimately observed.

The lights were ringing in a tinnitus B flat. He had the audio feed from his mecha dialed way too high but he couldn’t afford to miss any detail of what would happen next.

Whatever Prowl was said next, it must have been in his native language. Which Jazz found deeply unfair after all the work he’d put into learning Common.

The black and white mech turned to his cohort, waving them down the hall ahead of them. Prowl did not follow, wings still minutely shifting position. Once they were out of sight, Prowl turned on his heel back the way he came. Flicking a single piercing look to Jazz.

Silently. Shakily. Jazz skulked along the shadows after him.

He mental map was fucked. Every time he blinked, Jazz lost track of the most recent few seconds of his life. If Prowl wasn’t stopping every fifty feet to not-so-subtly check that Jazz was still following him, the human didn’t know where he’d end up.

Finally, Prowl reached a door at the end of a hall and entered without any delay. Jazz dropped, moving inside before the door could close again.

“Please don’t freak out.” Jazz cut him off before Prowl could set the tone of this conversation. The mech closed his mouth and after a moment’s consideration, assumed a tense but mostly neutral stance.

“I will not ‘freak out’.” Prowl looked like wanted to say more, but Jazz couldn’t afford that right now.

“Awesome! Because right now I’m freaking out and I won’t be able to keep it together if you start freaking out too.” He was pacing back and forth, not really seeing the mech beside him anymore.

“Jazz.” A servo caught his elbow, stopping him in place. “Where have you been?”

“Oh you know. Here. There. Ceiling mostly. Shockingly unrelated, but I think a talking helicopter wants to wear my face as a hat.” Jazz nodded way too enthusiastically in a manner he hoped translated into an appropriately manic “Please god help me.” grit toothed grin.

Prowl was momentarily speechless before physically shaking off the latest deluge of confusion, “That sounds like Whirl. You would not have encountered them had you stayed in the med bay like you were supposed to. Now I’m asking you again: What are you doing and why are you doing it?”

Audibly cracking, Jazz tried to answer honestly but found his voice locked up. He couldn’t, why couldn’t he..? Why was talking suddenly so fucking hard?

Meanwhile, Prowl just looked defeated. He rubbed that spot between his eyes, not yet letting him go.

“If you cannot provide a reasonable explanation for your sudden shift in behavior, I will have to assume the worst. You leave me no choice but to-“

“I’M REALLY SHORT.” Great. Fantastic. Incredible work brain. Take five.

Prowls optics flickered. Brow furrowing as he looked up at Jazz’s clearly taller mecha.

“That’s not- I mean-.” Jazz clasped his head in his hands, switching back to English. “{I- I- don’t know if this is even real.}”

Something was gripping his arms. Black and white appeared in his vision. “Jazz, please. I can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Common was easy to learn but right now it felt like Jazz was playing Scrabble with a bad hand.

“Prowl, where do you go when you- when you change-body-shape?” He had to stop to breath midway.

Please, please, please this is the last chance for anything to make sense.

But instead the mech slowly shook his head in disbelief, “Where do I..? Nowhere Jazz, it’s still me, I’m not ‘going’ anywhere. My alt form is not a different person.”

The mech gently pulled Jazz’s hands off his head from where he’d been stressing the damage from earlier. “I understand if you’ve never seen an alt mode before but your behavior, your questions, they’re not making any sense.”

Prowl stopped. Optics going wide as placed his servos on Jazz’s wrists. “Jazz are you Crashing?!”

“What? What is that what you call a mental breakdown? Cause yeah I’m having one of those.” He said a little too breathlessly.

“Sit-“ Prowl pulled him down to the floor. “Sit down. I’m calling for a medic.”

“No!” Desperately, Jazz grabbed onto Prowl who was helpless but to join him on the floor. The floodgates opened and Jazz couldn’t stop.

“No no no no, please god no. They’re gonna find out. I need to to tell you. I need to tell you myself. Just, please I’m begging you don’t do it. Give me a chance. Just give me a chance to explain, I don’t want to wake up on a table, please Prowler.”

For his part, Prowl was handling the situation as well as to be expected. He didn’t try to leave again but did get into a more comfortable kneeling position next to the panicking mecha.

“Alright. Alright, I won’t leave. Speak.”

Jazz tried tapping an alternating rhythm on the floor, giving himself literally anything else to focus on. He swallowed back bile and his thrashing fight or flight instincts.

“I’m not-“ Jazz grit his teeth. Telling the truth felt like trying to pop a dislocation back into place. Actually no. Jazz had done that before and it had felt infinitely less unnatural than what he was trying to do now.

Prowl was patient. Bless his heart, motor, whatever he’s got in there. Remaining silent beside him.

The pilot forced himself to take complete breaths, “l. Am not. The same. As you.” One, one two, one two, one two, Jazz counted in time.

“I noticed.” Prowl stated flatly, then softening his expression, “You hadn’t realized you were an alien until now, didn’t you?”

Jazz laughed a little too hysterically, “No, no I Fraggin’ did not. Please don’t freak out.”

“Jazz, you are hardly the first alien species I’ve ever encountered. At least you actually look like a person.”

The pilot got very, very quiet.

“Prowl, what do you think of organics.” Resolutely, Jazz stared down the floor panels, refusing to look anywhere else.

Momentarily, Prowl opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. He shifted to kneel in front of Jazz. Sharp optics darting across his frame. Lightly, Jazz could feel him trace something along his undamaged shoulder. He shivered against his will.

“Jazz.” Prowl got down to where he had to look at him. He spoke so, so softly, “Were you created by organics?”

Well, when a mommy human and a daddy human love each other very much…

“You could say that.” Jazz rasped instead.

He hadn’t even moved, but the energy in the air just went burning cold. Prowl went from soft to deathly serious so fast Jazz visibly flinched.

“Listen to me. You do not have to go back. You do not ever have to go back. I swear on everything I stand for I will not let another one of those things anywhere near you again.” Unintentionally, Prowl was crowding into his space.

Despite himself, Jazz just kept drawing himself in smaller and smaller as Prowl closed in.

“No no no no you don’t get it, that’s not what I meant. That’s not what I am!” He started quiet and steadily grew in volume.

Prowl wasn’t getting it. Instead, raising his voice to match, “No you are wrong! You have a choice now! You aren’t just your function and you aren’t just something they made to die!”

He grabbed Prowl by the shoulders, shaking him, “I DID CHOSE THIS. I KNOW I’M GONNA DIE, BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT.”

“Then what ARE you talking about?!” He shouted back.

“I’M ONE OF THEM.” His microphone peaked, and his voice broke.

The quiet hurt. Anything that wasn’t numb hurt. He gulped down air and couldn’t keep more than one eyelid up at a time.

Prowl ground his jaw tightly, practically steaming from reeling back a sense of calm by force, “You are not shorter than me. You are not thinking straight. And You. Are not. An organic.”

Jazz only semi involuntarily rolled his eyes.

“Fuck it.”

He disconnected, and everything hit at once.

Vision went and came back out of focus and way too close. His ears were ringing too badly to hear the sound of his mecha’s chest plates opening, though he knew that they were.

Every fiber of muscle in his body was torn and screaming, he’d throw up later if he had the strength. Jazz did not so much stand as he did lift off the pilot seat and then buckle forward. The hard shell of his pilot suit saved his knee from getting gouged by the corner of the platform he was slipping off of.

That’s fine. He’d land on the steps.

Except, his mecha had been leaning forward hadn’t it?

Like a rag doll, over the edge he went. A huge and blurry and black shape rushing to meet him.

———————————————————————

Is Jazz capable of telling the truth when it’s to save his life? No.

Will he do it out of spite just to prove someone wrong? Yes.

Also, secret props to @somerandomcockroach for showing how fun Rung is to write.

Bonus bit, Prowl finally let his EM field loose far enough for Jazz to notice! It was bad.

-SSTP

<- First Last ->

[ghostonmainmoon]

The Weaver

Ancient of Space, Weaver of Creation

I had this idea after literally going through her past posts (I literally went on a binge and read her entire masterlist) and just absolutely falling in love with her work @that-weird-thing-in-the-woods

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚ .⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊

Danny's home dimension is destroyed after the GIW decides to try and bomb the Infinite Realms while he is in the Far Frozen for medical help, along with Tucker. They were the only ones to survive the destruction of their planet. Sam didn't survive; She was out of town that day and couldn't go with them. (so no one was there to stop them from doing something stupid), the bombing failed horribly because the Realms sort of just threw it back at them.

The Infinite Realms place is sentient in a way and has its own will. It allowed the portal that initially killed Danny to be created just so she could have her adopted son.

Danny is the Realms Chosen and is practically her baby. There is a noticible difference in the Realms when Danny returns to it from vacation like everything changes.

So basically, Danny has become the Ancient of Space, Weaver of Creation, the Child of the Realms, Father of Stars and Moon, Keeper of the World Tree, Keeper of the Balance, Protector of the Forgotten, Son of Time, The Great One, etc.

He went through a very long period of depression as everything he knew was gone with only a handful still surviving as most didn't. The Ancients or more specifically CW decides enough is enough and he needs to get stuff done

Clockwork has taken over his education along with Frostbite and Pandora and was literally forced feed a shit ton of information about ghost culture, healing, understanding his powers, etiquette, etc.

Time and Space are very closely related but what people don't often remember that this also allows for creation. This is an aspect that Danny never thought would affect him much less become his main job.

Danny's existence is paradoxical in a way that still gets him confused as he is a constant where he existed as the Ancient of Space up until the point of his birth and when he had his accident and became a halfa once again he becomes a baby ghost with CW holding the reigns until he ascends as the Ancient Of Space Weaver of Creation.

Danny spends years creating new universes and creating galaxies upon galaxies, indulging in his obsession and occasionally going on vacations to explore the universes that he establishes -he's never traveled to the DC universe before, or he had a long time ago, like maybe during the Victorian era.

Danny weaves the future, past, and present of the many lives that will be, have been, and are. The Weaving of Creation takes up most of his time; he loves watching his creations blossom. He weaves the tapestry of creation which is later transcribed/ copied and bounded into a giant book that has the story of the entire multiverse in it. Danny as The Weaver his act of creation is reflected in the tree's branches and roots, representing the diverse realms and levels of existence. I want this to suggest that the universe is not just a collection of separate entities but a cohesive system with the Infinite Realms as the glue that holds the Multiverse together, and Danny acts as the orchestrator and the World Tree as his framework. 

Taking care of the World Tree is also one of his duties it is the centrepiece of his haunts as his powers as the Weavers of Creation. It's the representation of his domain. His haunt is a mixture of a space-themed observatory with a library with the universes and galaxies used as the ceiling with the World Tree In the middle with marble/glass-looking floors that reflected the ceilings. His haunt is also a bitingly cold like that of space with fog always crawling and curling around furniture. This is also due to his ice core which plays an important role in how his haunt turned out it is also influenced by his teachers so like a Greek-inspired architecture with subtle frost patterns etc.

The creation of many of these universes and dimensions results in him gaining collections of books and other items that take up space in his library and occasionally the hallways or other rooms of his haunt as decorations

Dan, now Serelio after being reborn and reformed—alongside Ellie, now Eos—goes by Klarion as a pseudonym when he terrorizes the JL and YJ in the DC universe.

Serelio and Eos had been de-aged and incubated by Danny due to them destabilizing as. Dan was put into the body of a clone that survived, and he and Ellie are now twins and have ascended as ancients.

Tim was on a mission to find Bruce who was being dragged through time and ended up finding a lead to Batman's location or how to get him out of the Time Stream in one of the League of Assassins' bases, which he later destroyed after grabbing everything that wasn't nailed down and he could carry.

While on his way to Greece for a new clue, he struggles with his journey after losing his spleen and having to be extra careful with preventing illnesses, with Ra Al Ghul hot on his tail. He somehow finds a pool of Lazarus Water where he promptly gets corned and somehow falls towards it.

Tim is transported to a beautiful, ethereal place that looks like the galaxy had a baby with an observatory and a library and he wonders around until he comes across an ethereal being that is weaving a tapestry while leaning against a gigantic tree with a fur coat dropped over them with ice crystals within their halo head piece.

He tries to be sneaky and find a way out, but he ends up arriving back at the same piece. Danny knows he's there but chooses to keep a mindful eye on him, but otherwise leaves him be and doesn't prevent him from leaving this place, but it seems like CW has other plans.

Tim concludes that he needs to talk to this person who he could get help as he takes stock of his environment. or possibly broker a deal to get help with getting B out of the Time Stream. As he took a deep breath and stepped forward piercing blue eyes looked with star-speckled irises and his breath caught.

The soft ding of a grandfather clock could be heard resounding in the air as it seemed to reach the final second. As Clockwork gazed at the timeline, a soft hum left his lips: " All is as it should be."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊

I think I went a bit overboard, and I'm not sure if I made it coherent enough, but basically, Tim stumbles- but not really, as CW is basically meddling- upon Weaver of Creation Danny and strikes a deal to have him help with Bruce's predicament after CW time out and convinces Danny that this is one of the better solutions that doesn't end in the destruction of that universe.

Weaver of Creation, Danny is basically creating dimensions and other universes and just leaves them to grow and develop on their own, and records their history and checks on their development, giving a little nudge if it seems like they will do something to end up killing themselves off before their time.

ClockWork and Danny can use some aspects of each other's powers, as Time and Space are needed to balance each other out.

IDK what else to write, I'll probably edit it a bit later on. This was inspired by the lovely @that-weird-thing-in-the-woods blog after reading Frostbite's Child, Ancient of Space, Void & Prism.

[lazysoulwriter]

little clues in polish. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: pure fluff, soft launch fun, social media/fan speculation, teasing, affection, subtle intimacy.

---

It starts with a star.

Just one. A tiny, silver thing sitting on Pedro’s pinky nail, barely the size of a freckle. You almost miss it entirely until he slides into the booth beside you at the little diner your friends frequent post-premiere.

Your hand is on the table already, freshly manicured — a galaxy theme this time. Deep navy blue with scattered constellations, starbursts on every nail, some shimmer catching the light. He sees it, nudges your elbow, and grins when you finally catch the match.

“You noticed,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like his heart’s not beating wildly because he picked that little star with you in mind.

You smile. “It’s cute.”

He shrugs. “Felt right.”

And that’s how it begins.

No Instagram stories. No red carpet hand-holding. Just a trail of quiet matching details — fingerprints of affection only the two of you know to look for.

You start getting playful with it.

He shows up to a press junket with a thin line of gold wrapping the tip of his thumb — the same gold that outlines the marble design on your nails in a photo you'd posted earlier that day. Fans notice.

“Okay but why is Pedro’s nail giving the same vibes as [Y/N]’s???” “Matching... again?? Coincidence or coded??” “Is this… a nail soft launch?????”

Threads start popping up. Nail art theories. Timelines. People making little charts with circles and arrows, zooming in on blurry pap pics where you’re both walking five steps apart — but your nail colors are suspiciously complementary.

Pedro finds them one night while you're curled up on his couch, legs over his lap, popcorn between you. He scrolls through the fan theories, chuckling, eyes gleaming.

“They’re obsessed,” he says. “They think I’m trying to launch you like a Marvel movie.”

You snort. “Soft-launch you like a Sephora collab.”

He grins. “You are my favorite limited edition.”

He kisses you after that — slow, sweet. Like he doesn’t mind the build-up. Like he’s savoring the soft part before it gets loud.

The first time it gets close to loud is when you go to an awards afterparty. You’ve kept it lowkey, arriving separately. But you're both seated together inside, and your nails — well. There’s no denying it now.

You’re wearing pink. Pale, glossy, with tiny white hearts on every nail.

Pedro’s hand wraps around his drink, and there it is again — the same heart, tucked neatly onto his ring finger. A different base color, sure. Matte instead of glossy. But unmistakably a match.

The internet explodes.

You scroll through the tweets later with a giggle, curled into his chest. He watches you with that sleepy smile — like he’s been waiting for this moment. Like he’d match your nails a hundred more times if it meant he got to hold you like this.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “if they’re gonna analyze our hands so much, might as well give them something to really talk about.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

He shrugs. “Thinking next set — matching and we post them. Together.”

You blink. “A full launch?”

He kisses your shoulder. “Let’s give ‘em a reason to finally stop guessing.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[cinnaleaf]

「 Drunk &. Nasty | In Your DMs 」

summary: you said u weren’t into footballers, yet somehow you end up in jude’s bed after a night at the club | pt 2 of In Your DMs | MDNI 18+

warnings: smut, oral (f & m receiving), overstimulation, slightly public sex via phone call, alcohol consumption, themes of public attention/fame, language wc: ~3.9k 💌: pt 2 as requested! pls remember me different, i am ovulating 🤸🏾‍♂️ song inspo: Party Girls x Victoria Monét ft. Buju Banton

Cool night air slapped you with reality when you stepped out of the club with Jude, but it didn’t last long. He walked you toward a black Mercedes parked in front with tinted windows. You could see a driver already holding the door open and inside there were galaxy lights shimmering on the ceiling.

“Go ahead” Jude motioned inside the car, smirking because he knew you’d be cursing his name for the next few hours, and not in the way you did earlier at the club. You hopped into your seat and he followed shortly after, filling the car with the scent of seat leather, your creamy coconut perfume, and alcohol wafting from each others lips. Jude spread his legs out, encroaching your space while you tried to keep a respectable-ish distance. You tilted your head back, pretending like you weren’t hyper aware of him watching you. The second the car door shut, he broke the silence.

“C’mere.”

You didn’t look at him, knowing he was probably trying to pull you into a compromising position in the car. “I’m good right here.”

“Are you?” He leaned in close, giving you a smug look while trailing his hands up your thigh. You tucked your lips in and blew out through your nose to try and gather yourself. Thighs were a very sensual zone for you and the higher he trailed, the wetter you became. “Stop the act Y/N.” You bit back a whimper when he kicked your legs open with his own foot for easier access. “You want it so bad you’re shaking.”

“I’m not shaking” you lied even though your thigh was flexing against his hand. You shifted in your seat, trying closing your legs to avoid the heat pooling from his touch but his leg was in the way. You didn’t want give him the satisfaction of watching you squirm around like that, but when his hand crept up even higher, you bit back a gasp. “I’m g-good,” you repeated with twitching legs from the feathery light feeling of his fingertips.

Jude tilted his head up with a cocky smirk, searching your eyes to catch you in your lie. “Yeah? You sure about that?” He squeezed your thigh and rested his hand right below the spot he wanted to touch the most, making you glare from his confidence.

“What point are you trying to make Jude?”

“My point is…” he began while dragging his hand back down to tease you. “You’re sitting there acting like you don’t want me but we both know you do.”

You were crumbling faster than you wanted to, so you scoffed a laugh to mask wanting to hop on him right then and there. “What???”

“You heard me. Stop pretending and come here.” Jude came in closer and trailed his lips over your neck, making you lean into it while you bit your lip.

“We’re in a car…” you answered just as Jude scraped his teeth over the pulse point on your neck, making you whimper in response. Having decorum was your plan, but something about being drunk after a night of dancing with Jude in the club had you ready to risk it all.

“Never cared” He leaned back just enough to look at you and you swore he was undressing you with his eyes. Once you saw him wet his lips with his tongue and drop his eyes to where your dress rode up, you knew you were done for. In one swift motion, he gripped your hips and pulled you to straddle his lap before you could push back. Your knees hit the plush leather and he smirked at you while trailing his hands down to rest on your ass. “If you don’t want it, tell me. Use your words.”

You definitely wanted it now, so you stayed hush which satisfied Jude but also pushed him to tease you even further. His large palms gripped the cheeks of your ass to pull you against him and your head dipped back in a mix of frustration and arousal. “You’re so cocky.”

“Say that again,” Jude laughed, pressing you tighter against him so you could feel how hard he was for you. The contact made you stifle a moan and clench your thighs against his instinctively. “Say it while you’re grinding on me like this.” He shifted his hips under you to press his cock against your core, making you dig your fingers into his shirt while he guided your movements with his hands. “You thought you had it under control tonight and now look at you.”

“I-” you wanted to fire back, but his hand dipped under your dress to trail the edge of your panties, making you jerk into his hand out of pure desperation.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He gripped the sides of your neck and pulled you into him for a kiss that was all tongue and love bites on the bottom lip. When he finally pulled back to catch your dazed expression, he brushed his thumb over your lips with a sinister grin on his face. “You’re soaking my jeans, angel. You need it that bad?” The cocky lilt in his voice set you on fire and you wrapped your lips around Jude’s thumb to give him a sneak peek of what was to come. He sucked in a breath and took his thumb from your mouth to pull the top of your dress down, making your boobs spring free. 

“Fuck. Such pretty, perfect tits,” he whispered while raking over your chest in appreciation. His mouth latched onto your nipple and you arched toward him, gripping the back of his head. He swirled his tongue around, lightly biting the sensitive bud.

“Shit” you gasped from the sting, clencing your thighs tighter around him to grind down while his other hand squeezed and kneaded your other boob.

“You’re so beautiful” he spoke against your skin, switching to your other nipple with the same greed and tugging it between his teeth just to hear you hiss. “And you’re making the sweetest fucking noises for me.” When Jude finally pulled back to look you in the eye, his pupils were blown with hunger. “We can keep going here,” he muttered, still kneading your chest, “but I’d rather fuck you properly in my bed.”

“You sure you can handle me for that long?” you quipped while grazing your hand over his hard-on.

“Keep chatting shit and I’ll show you how long I can go.”

Jude lifted you off his lap and signalled for the driver to drive faster while you sat back in your seat bewildered. He was acting like he hadn’t just been latched onto you like a starved man while you sat down with Niagra Falls between your legs. The ride back to his place was filled with heavy breathing and teasing touches that had you ready to snap, but when you finally arrived at his house, he seemed to be in more of a rush than you did. Jude barely gave you time to take in the size of his place before he was opening the door and leading you inside with him. The second the front door closed, his hands were back on you. “Let me show you around,” he teased, pretending to be polite when in reality he really wanted to put you through the mattress. He kissed the corner of your jaw and moved his lips to your ear, nibbling. “Or I can show you around after I ruin you?”

You fumbled with the button of his jeans, eventually unzipping them to grab his dick right through his briefs. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

Jude groaned, forcing himself to step back. His hand wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the house. “Bedroom’s this way,” he said as if you had any fucks to give besides the one he was about to give you. You didn’t care where the bedroom was, you would’ve taken it against the front door or even the stairs but you didn’t want to seem too eager after your hard-to-get performance at the club. When you made it to his room, you were barely holding it together when he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his muscled, shirtless body. His jeans came off next and he pulled the bottom hem of his briefs up to show off his thighs and massive bulge. It made you shake your head because you saw him do the same thing at some of his matches when he wanted to tease his fans, but this was just for you.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away.

“Like what you see?” Jude smirked. His briefs joined his jeans on the floor and your jaw opened from the shock. You heard he was big but seeing his dick in front of you made you audibly gasp. It was thick, heavy, and had its own gravitational pull. It swung toward you with each step he took forward and you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your legs together. Jude caught the shift immediately and reached for you. “What’s wrong, angel? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.”

You swallowed hard, trying to get it together. “Please. I’m not scared.”

“Good.” He grabbed your neck gently and brushed his thumb under your jaw as he tilted your head to look up at him. “Take this dress off.”

“Take it off me.”

You weren’t boldly challenging him in the way you thought you were. Jude didn’t need to be told twice and took the dress off of you in a quickness, leaving you only in your soaked panties. “Look at you,” he muttered in appreciation. “So fucking gorgeous. Let’s see how ready you are for me.” His hand slid up your thighs and he spread them for you, kissing his way to your core. He hummed when he saw the wet patch on your panties and dragged his thumb over it with enough pressure to make you whimper. “You’re so wet” he cooed with awe. Jude had to peel your panties off of you because you were so wet they clung. When his finger slid inside of you, your eyes rolled back from the fullness. If he had you like this from one finger, you had no idea how you were going to react from his dick. Jude smiled as he watched your face contort, then he added another finger in. “You gotta open up more for me baby. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax for me.”

The way he softened his dominance to make sure you were ready somehow made you even hornier, and you grinded against his fingers already a mess from his touch. Jude had you hanging on by a thread from the way he thrusting his fingers inside of you. Every time you clenched around him, your hips bucked in a pathetic attempt to make yourself cum, but everytime you were about to, he’d pull his hand back and leave you gasping for air while kissing the inside of your thigh to soothe the ache.

“Jude” you whined, barely able to breathe from how good it felt.

“Shhh, don’t start begging now. Took you long enough to answer me so I’m gonna take my time with you.” He kept you spread for him and trailed his lips closer to your pussy, yet not close enough for what you wanted. You were a goner and he was loving every second of it.

“Pleaseee,” you begged while squirming around from the heightened sensation of his warm breath between your legs.

Jude tilted his head, smirking against your skin as he kissed higher and skimmed the edge of your folds with his lips. “More?”

You nodded frantically, grabbing at his head to pull him down but he was stronger than you so you had to settle for begging now that he was in control. “Jude please. I need your tongue.” As soon as you said it, he flicked his tongue out with one long stripe between your lips, making you clench your thighs against him. He wrapped his arms on your thighs and slurped between them, teasing your clit with light suction and rhythmic licks while you pushed up against his tongue. He refused to let you cum and pulled away just as your moans pitched higher. “Why are you like this? Just fuck me please.” you begged, gripping his wrist in an effort to pull him back to you to no avail. You fed his ego to fullness with the stark contrast of yourself at the club and between your begging, he grabbed a condom and slid it down his shaft.

“You ready?” he coaxed, spreading your folds with both his thumbs. You moaned a ‘yes’ which made him smirk, lick over his lips, and spit on your clit as a silent way to claim your pussy as his. When he tapped his tip against your clit to mix his saliva with your wetness, you clenched around nothing, fueling you to take matters into your own hands. You reached down to grab his cock while biting your lip, slowly guiding him inside of you. 

But then your phone rang.

“Answer it” he grinned, even as his dick twitched from your touch.

You looked at him dumbfounded. “What?”

“I said answer it. Right now.” Jude leaned down and brushed his lips on yours, but then he pulled back. He was beating you at your own game now and it had you dizzy with lust while he reached over and handed you your phone.

Your hand shook as you swiped the screen. “H-hello?”

“Did you guys fuck yet?” Bri’s voice loudly came in through the phone, making you wince. “On a scale of 1 to 10 how was it? Was it everything you imagined? Does he eat it off the bone?? Is the girth to length ratio good? I need to know everything girl.”

You were barely paying attention to her questions while you watched Jude place your legs on his shoulders. He dragged his dick through your folds and rubbed his tip against your clit, making you open your mouth.

“Well?!” Bri’s impatient voice snapped you back to the phone.

Jude pressed his tip inside of you, stretching you out and making you quietly mouth a ‘oh my god’ at him with creased brows. 

“Y/N?? Hello?”

“Uh–I–yeah it’s good.” you managed in a shaky voice just as Jude pushed in a little more with a smirk. “Sooo good.”

“And?!” Tasha’s voice chimed in way too clear, making you realize you were on speaker.

“And…” Your voice broke into a sharp gasp just as he gave you a teasing thrust to keep you on edge.

“Wait, is he still there?!” Bri gasped. “Because you’re not really giving us a proper dick report. What about aftercare? Is he a cuddle after kind of guy or did he already call your Uber? He seems like the cuddle type honestly.”

Jude leaned in, loud enough for them to hear over the phone. “Tell them you’re busy.”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered as he pulled out slightly, only to slide back in deeper. “I’m–um..really – oh fuck – busy. Very. Busy.”

“Was that him?!”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, looking up at him as he rubbed his thumb against your clit. He was pushing you closer and closer to orgasm, making your vision blur from pleasure. 

“I can’t” you whimpered quietly as he continued to thrust slow enough to keep you hanging on by a thread.. “I-I’ll call back later.”

“Yeah, she’s still working on the report.” Jude called out, even louder this time. He slid out of you and turned you on your knees, making you arch your back before deep stroking back in with a smack to your ass just as he pressed the end call button. You buried your face in a pillow to muffle your moans when he started hitting a spot that had you squelching into a wet mess on your thighs. 

“Jude, Jude, Jude,” you repeated in a chant, grasping at the sheets beneath you. “Deeper.” A dick like his wasn’t something you got to have often, so you were going to indulge, even if it did seem a little greedy to have him fill you completely. He pulled out slowly for you to feel every bit of him, then he gave you deep, calculated strokes with his balls slapping against you for extra sensation. You felt him smack your ass and you arched your back more to throw some back shots of your own.

“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”

Jude slid his hand between your legs to massage your clit and your legs shook from the feeling. You didn’t know if you wanted to cum, cry, scream, or beg so you gripped his wrist instead, squirming. “I’m..I– oh god.” 

“So fucking good for me. I need to feel you cum on my dick.” The roles flipped. Jude’s arousal was being fueled by your sounds and now he was begging for you; the way he sounded while talking to you spurred you on.

“Don’t stop talking.” you moaned, throwing it back heavier on him. 

“Yeah?” He smacked your ass loudly. “Now you don’t want me to stop talking?” With another deep thrust, he felt you begin to flutter around him and he held your hips down to push you into the mattress. “You gonna cum for me?” You nodded as best as you could with your face pressed against the sheets, strangling out a moan.

“Tell me.” He demanded, feeling your muscles choke his cock with a tight grip.

“I’m gonna cum. Just for you, all for you.” you whined between the sounds of his skin meeting yours. 

“Give it to me then. Let me feel it baby.” In a quick motion, Jude wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. He gripped your neck, turning your head toward his lips while peppering kisses on your jawline. “You can’t believe you waited so long for this, huh? Such a good girl now.”

The moan that came out of you after he said that could only be described as pornographic. You clenched around him, flying higher and higher until your body shook against him from the intensity of your orgasm. He held his grip on you, talking you through it while telling you how sexy you sounded coming undone. Once you finally came down to earth again, he released his grip on you, making you fall against the mattress, shaking from orgasm aftershocks.

Jude removed the condom and rubbed your back, laughing at your predicament. “You okay?”

His laugh irritated you so you rolled over and sat up with a nod. “I’m fine. But you didn’t cum?” Your eyes shot down to his dick that was drooling with small beads of precum leaking onto the sheets. You trailed kisses from his thigh vein to the tip of his dick, pampering it with soft, short kisses while he twitched in your hand. 

“I thought I’d give you a break.” Jude saw you look up at him through your lashes and he licked his lips, caressing underneath your chin while you continued to tease him. “You clearly don’t want one though, huh?”

You answered by running your tongue along the vein of his dick, licking from base to tip in one long stroke. Jude’s head tipped back with a groan when you wrapped your lips around him, sucking just enough to make him flex toward you. His fingers tightened on your hair, guiding your movements while you took him deeper, choking a little when his tip grazed the back of your throat.

“Goddamn Y/N” he threw his head back in shock, but then quickly looked back at you because he couldn’t get enough of the sight. “Don’t stop.” Your tongue swirled around the tip as you pulled him out of your mouth enough to twist your hand around the base. Jude groaned, breathing heavily to hold on to the feeling for as long as possible. “Shit... do that again.” His voice was low but needy. You unhinged your jaw and took him deeper, swallowing to tighten your throat around his cock. Jude’s breathing got heavier and his hips thrusted involuntarily into your mouth for more. You started to feel him pulsing against your tongue as he strengthened his grip around the back of your head. “Stay right there and taste it angel.”

You swallowed around him again, milking him for everything he had while you massaged his balls. When you finally pulled off of him, his chest was heaving, he was sweaty and his eyes were half open while looking down at you. “Your head game is mad dangerous…” Jude leaned back to prop himself up on the headboard and pulled you in a straddle on top of him. 

“Is it?” you giggled as he gripped your ass to pull you just above his dick, which was starting to get hard again. When you felt him, you realized you were in for a treat. Jude’s refractory period was damn near nonexistent and the more you kissed, the harder you felt him get beneath you. When he finally pulled back, you were out of breath and riled up all over again. “Round two?” he asked, tapping himself against your folds. You nodded and he grabbed another condom, ready for a long night of ‘meeting your standards’ now that he was outside of your DMs and inside of you.

The next morning, you winced from the sunlight and cracked an eye open – only to be greeted by a room that looked nothing like yours. You shifted around, groaning quietly against the weight of Jude’s arm wrapped around you with his chest pressed against your back.

“Wait. What?”

Scattered condom wrappers were all over the floor. You froze, thinking in a daze while the puzzle pieces of last night came together in your mind. The club, the drinks, an answered DM, and Jude Bellingham. You turned your head to make sure you weren’t imagining things and sure enough, he was laid up next to you with a stupid smug smile on his face even in his sleep.

“Wait..did I– oh my god, I did.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you muttered, scrambling to grab your phone from somewhere in the tangled sheets. You found it buried under a pillow, unlocked it, and opened Instagram. Your stomach dropped. At the top your feed was a still image of you in the club with Jude.

“It’s been like–what? Six hours? How are these people so fast??” You rubbed your hands over your face but it did nothing to undo the situation. You checked your messages and opened your group chat:

Bri: goooood morninggg to the latest star of Bellingham Baddies! i hope the D was worth it babe. i tried to defend you but they kinda ate me up too!!

Tasha: no bc why’d someone make an entire thread about you following jobe but not jude?? i’m sorry but i laughed

You groaned, wincing from your hangover as the text notifications kept going off.

Bri: she’s 100% regretting her life decisions right now

You glanced at Jude who was stirring awake. He gave you a lazy smile and kissed you. “Why are you up so early? C’mere.” he hummed against your skin, pulling you into him. You wanted to be mad at him but when he kissed your neck, mumbling, “Don’t leave yet. Need you to stay here a little longer with me,” you sunk right back into him like you did the night before, biting back a smile. You texted your group chat while Jude continued to scatter kisses across your skin.

You: No. 100% worth it.

You locked your phone and faced Jude who was grinning wide and had his eyes half closed from hangover grogginess.

Yeah. 100% worth it.

[aventurineswife]

Idk if I have any pending requests rn but imma make one before I forget

Platonic Boothill, Mydei (if you don't write for Mydei then let's just do Argenti), Blade and Gallagher with teen!reader who has an ,,I'll follow you into Hell if you go" mentality. And they are incredibly determined because they have nowhere to go back to. They are under the mindset that it's better to die alongside the one who stepped up and cared than to live and just keep running across the galaxy without them. And they refuse to listen to the ,,live on" part.

“I Will Not Outlive You”

Tags: Mydei x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Gallagher x Reader, Blade x Reader, Teen!Reader, Platonic, Protective Characters, Found Family, Loyal Companion, War and Battle Themes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Hope, Post-Trauma Bonding, "I’d Follow You Anywhere" Mentality, Stubborn Reader, Guardianship Dynamic, Noir/Melancholy (Gallagher), Slow Burn Trust.

Warnings: Mentions of Death and War, Survivor's Guilt & Grief (Gallagher's and Blade's parts), Mentions of Self-Destruction/Suicidal Ideation, Violence (Implied/Referenced), Child Endangerment Themes, Emotional Dependence, Mild Profanity (Boothill's part).

The stars looked closer from the cockpit of Boothill's ship, but they never felt farther away.

You sat on the edge of the seat beside him, your legs pulled up to your chest, watching as he reloaded his guns with precision born of routine. Boothill didn’t look at you—he rarely did when the job was done and the silence crept in—but his voice still filled the space.

“Didn’t I tell ya not to jump in like that?”

You looked down, your hands tightening around the seams of your jacket. “You were getting overwhelmed. I wasn’t gonna run.”

His eyes finally flicked toward you. “Running ain’t cowardice, kid. It’s survival. You run so you can shoot another day. I ain’t trying to bury another body.”

“But there’s no one left to bury me,” you whispered. “If you go, there’s nothing else. So if you’re riding into Hell, I’m coming with you.”

Boothill’s jaw tightened. He muttered something about “darn stubborn kids” under his breath, stood, and pulled his red scarf off his neck. Without a word, he draped it around your shoulders and gave your head a ruffle.

“Then you ride behind me. Never in front. Got it?”

You nodded.

He didn’t smile, but the way he holstered his gun told you he’d accepted it. Maybe not happily—but fully.

The Coreflame of Strife burned somewhere in the heart of the world, and Mydei was chasing it with the tenacity of a man who had died and come back too many times.

And you were right behind him.

“Turn back,” he said again, standing in the shallow basin of some lost battlefield, the scent of ash still clinging to the rocks. “Your blood isn’t meant for this war.”

“I don’t have anything left to go back to, Mydei,” you said, voice shaking from exhaustion but not fear. “And I’m not letting you go out there alone. Not when you’re the only person who ever gave a damn.”

His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the rising dusk. He could’ve left you behind. He’d done it before to others.

But he never spoke those names aloud like he did yours.

“You follow me into Hell,” he said, “you might never find your way back out.”

“I’d rather burn with you than run by myself forever.”

For a moment, silence ruled. Then Mydei unclasped his cape and swung it around your shoulders, golden edges trailing in the breeze. He touched the side of your face, firm, like a vow.

“Then we burn together, Guardian’s oath.”

Blade wasn’t a man anymore. He was a weapon shattered a thousand times and reforged to cut through everything, even his own past.

And you—somehow—chose to walk beside that.

He sat silently sharpening his cracked sword in a dim corridor of the Stellaron Hunters' hideout. You sat cross-legged across from him, arms bandaged, not from battle, but from your desperate grip on staying close to him.

“You think following me will fix you?” Blade asked coldly, not looking up.

“No,” you said, unwavering. “But being left behind will kill me faster.”

Blade’s eyes lifted, red and seething with memories. “You don’t understand. I don’t want salvation. I want the end.”

“I don’t care. I just… I don’t want to lose someone else.”

Blade’s lips pressed into a line. He remembered what it felt like to carry loss in every breath. And he knew that kind of grief, once born, never died.

“You’ll break,” he warned.

You shrugged. “Then break me. At least I’ll still be with you.”

For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, Blade offered something other than pain—his sword. He laid it between you.

“Then hold this with me. Not as a warrior. As someone who remembers.”

You reached out, fingers brushing the hilt. His hand covered yours.

For the moment, broken things stood together.

The Sweet Dream Special was silent except for the clink of glass and the soft hum of machinery. Gallagher mixed drinks with the same care he gave to his sidearm—silent, precise, distant.

You leaned on the bar, watching him.

“You gonna tell me to run again?”

He didn’t answer. He poured a shot and set it in front of you—[your favourite drink]. You blinked.

“I know what it’s like,” Gallagher finally said, eyes never meeting yours. “To have nowhere else. To want to follow someone just so you’re not alone. I did that once.”

“What happened?”

“I lived.”

He leaned forward, voice low and full of memory. “It’s not the worst thing. But it is the hardest.”

You clenched your fists. “I don’t want to live without you.”

Gallagher’s eyes softened. “Kid… I’m not a hero. I’m just tired. And if you follow me, all you’ll find is regret.”

“Then I’ll carry it with you.”

A long pause. Then, he reached into his coat and took out a spare flask. He placed it gently in front of you.

“Then at least learn how to mix something worth dying for.”

He turned away, but his voice lingered.

“You stay behind me, yeah? If someone’s gonna fall, it’ll be me first.”

[earthsparked]

So you want to join the coterie, huh? And you want to know what you're getting yourself into.

You know I can’t take sides in command arguments, captain, you gently remind Rodimus for the fifth time this week. I have to honor my obligation to the entire crew.

Rodimus shoots you his best look that says “I’m very sad and betrayed despite having been the one to sign your contract in which this is stated,” and goes back to arguing with Megatron and Ultra Magnus.

Privately you think Megatron is in the right on this issue. Tragic realization: the mech who tried to murder your entire species on several occasions, actually has good leadership skills and knows what he’s doing. But when Rodimus manages to wheedle Magnus into seeing things his way, you can only sigh and double check that your little bag of tricks stored in your utility scraplet, Scrappy, is fully stocked.

It’s going to be one of those days.

It’s not all roaming the galaxy having fun. Sure, there’s plenty of that. You're going to see wonders that human eyes have never seen before. But it’s a lot more, too.

You wriggle backwards out of Brainstorm and Perceptor's mystery machine. You're covered in thick, black grease that’s making your skin itch; they didn't think to check for skin-safety before asking you to crawl into it and fix some finicky little part. You scramble to your feet, a stained shop towel in one hand and a half-used can of solvent in the other. The fumes in the enclosed space are making you a little high.

You kick the access hatch shut and stand back. Go on, Percy, try it now.

Perceptor frowns as the machine whirrs to life, but the screen still throws off an error message. You sigh and shake your head. Your sensitive ears that always made you hate the hum of ceiling lights and refrigerators, are telling you something still isn’t right.

Kill it, I can hear the pitch is still off. Fine, I’ll just take the whole damn gear assembly apart!

Don't touch any of the exposed wires! You'll undo all my work! Brainstorm demands. And adds, belatedly, Also it'll kill you. Why don't you humans have any decent insulation? Terrible design. I could do better if I created a species in my recharge.

You don't think you want to hear where this is going. Grabbing your tools, you crawl back in the mystery machine.

Don't worry about learning mechanical stuff, earth's systems are completely different to their engineering anyway. Besides, it doesn’t matter if you’ve never held a blowtorch in your life, you’ll pick the skills up along the way. A flexible mind and willingness to learn are the only real criteria for any potential coterie member.

You spring out in front of the big blue mech, making him very nearly step on you with one of his birdlike feet. You know he won’t - for all his jokes, there’s not a mech on this ship that would knowingly hurt you. (Knowingly being the operative word.)

I know what I smelled, Whirl. There’s no disguising it. You have a coolant leak. You got some of that guy’s windshield stuck under your plating when you threw him across the bar, didn’t you? And it’s punctured a line.

His single optic narrows in an expressive glare. So what, Crunchy? Why do you care? Move or I’m gonna have more than glass stuck in my mesh.

He slowly and pointedly brings his foot down toward you, humming the Jeopardy! theme music. You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow higher and higher the closer his foot gets, not moving. When it’s just within reach, you make a wild leap, grab for a safe handhold, and hang on for dear life. Whirl shrills an arpeggio of startled mech curses and tries to shake you off, but you cling like a burr.

If you don’t treat it, it’s going to get worse! It’s either me or Ratchet, Whirlybird, and I don’t throw things! I don't care that you got in a fight, I don't - whoa, watch the wall! - I just want you to not be in pain!

He decides after a few attempts that this is a fun game. You’re dizzy as hell by the time he announces Eight seconds! Fine, cowboy, if you want to be inside me THAT badly.

You roll your eyes and somehow manage not to lose your lunch as he sets his foot down and lets you climb off. Scrappy opens his mouth, letting you pull out your gloves and pliers from one of his compartments. You dig out the shards of glass and patch up his coolant line, feeling relieved as you wrap the punctures and clean away the dried coolant. Having one of your mechs hurt always bothers you.

Yeah, you’re gonna make the best friends you’ve ever had. The kind you’d do anything for. And I do mean, anything. They really overplay the whole "humans will pack bond with anything" stuff a little too much, because they don't quite get how our relationships work. But eventually you will find yourself pulling on wells of strength you didn't even know you had, doing things you never thought yourself capable of. Not for yourself, but for them.

You spit a mouthful of blood onto alien ground and try not to let the glowering mech see you shake. Adrenaline or fear, does it matter which? What matters is Tailgate’s down, hurt and in stasis. You got banged up, too, and stayed behind to guard him while the rest of the landing team pushed through the fighting. They wouldn't have left you or him if they'd thought any of the enemy mechs were still in this quadrant. But this one stomped out of the swirling fog, a hulking shape bristling with combat readiness.

He’s big, but so fucking what? You’ve been passed in the halls by mechs much scarier than this guy.

You flip the safety off your weapon - almost too big for you, but barely a pea shooter to a full-sized mech. At your side, Scrappy hisses and snarls, clacking his sharp metal teeth in threat. Just because he's been altered not to eat metal at random, doesn't mean he can't when given permission.

You're supposed to be a non-combatant, untouchable and marked as such by the coterie patch on your shoulder. At worst, you can be held hostage until your ship pays a ransom. But playing by those rules means standing aside and letting this guy do whatever the hell he wants to one of your mechs.

You glance at Tailgate and your heart hurts. When did this ten-foot-tall alien robot start to look so small and vulnerable to you?

Your eyes blur with furious, worried tears, before fixing on the approaching enemy. You step forward, as if your tiny body can shield the wounded mech lying behind you.

Whatever you came here for, you spit as more blood drips down your chin, you’re leaving without it. Go conjunx a belt sander, you torqueless wonder.

But it gets real when you get to the point where you understand, they’d do anything for you, too.

You’ve been cold forever. Can’t remember ever being warm. The endless white snows of the polar icecap of this godforsaken planet you’d come to investigate, was going to be the last thing you saw. One wrong step and the snowbank had collapsed, dumping you into a subterranean cavern. You’re trapped, alone, hypothermic. Your emergency transponder broken. You'd left your pet scraplet behind out of fear his thin armor wouldn't protect him against the cold. You're never going to see the little guy again.

Without him or the transponder, your mechs are never going to find you here. You’re never going to see earth again. They'll just add your name to the coterie's wall of remembrance, and some other human will be on your ship, caring for your mechs. You hope they'll understand how special they all are. That they'll learn Rung needs a listening ear sometimes, and Roddy's boasting often hides his insecurities, and Ratchet's got a soft spark under all that grumbling...

You think you’re hallucinating when you hear the voice. Wait. Is that a heat signature - it is! Hey, captains! We found them! Over here!

A few minutes or hours or ages later and Brainstorm, upside-down, lowers through the hole in the crust above. You blink muzzily. ‘m on the ceiling…?

Powerful hands pick you up, and you’re ascending. You don’t remember much after that, except the feel of being surrounded by titans that cared enough to come back. You came back for me.

Rodimus, warmest of them all, carries you to the ship himself. Tucked inside his armor, out of the wind and ice. Nestled right by his spark chamber. You dream of being pure energy, or of being wrapped in pure energy, or that you're one of two waves of energy dancing together with the joy of being alive. In a place where size doesn't matter, and metal and flesh don't matter, because deep down you're more alike than dissimilar.

You're as much theirs, as they are yours.

I wish I could tell you what to expect, but no one has the exact same experience. Not even within the same cohort. It’s going to be unlike anything you imagine it could be. Every day's going to bring new discoveries, new dreams. Sometimes, new nightmares. It's a big universe, and humans haven't even scratched the surface of what's out there. For better, or for worse.

The crate rattles again. Your breathing is loud inside your exo-suit. This bay is kept pressurized, but barely climate-controlled, and close to the ship's heat sinks so it's scorching hot in here.

Scrappy's cameras are transmitting every move you make to the mechs crowded around the monitors on the bridge. You've turned off audio, because between the scientists' incessant arguing and Swerve's fretting over you going into Cargo Hold 3 alone, you weren't able to pay proper attention to your surroundings.

Rattle-rattle. Shake. That container weighs several tons. It's bouncing around like it's a bouncy castle full of elementary schoolers.

No oxygen. Movement. It could be a scraplet infestation. Easily dealt with, for you. Which is why you're here and the mechs are on the bridge, or in lockdown in their quarters.

It could be scraplets. Intuition tells you it's not.

You touch the side of your helmet to activate your mic. Where did you say we picked this up from, again?

The arguing in the background dims as Ultra Magnus answers, disapprovingly, The records for the cargo manifest have been...misfiled. Ergo, we don't know.

You can see him in your mind's eye, glaring at Rodimus. Misfiled? More like Roddy lost them in the skyscraper stack of datapads in his office. If he didn't just set it down somewhere and forget where he put it. Can mechs have ADHD? Would some strategies that work for humans, be helpful for him? A thought to pursue at another time, when you're not maybe about to be eaten by a monster.

You click the mic back off before you can get drawn into the new argument that's starting over the co-captain's lack of organizational skills. And step closer to the shaking crate. No markings that you can read. No packing list on the outside. Does it look a little banged up? Rusted? Or is it the shaky light from Scrappy's headlamp as he hides behind your legs, making it look like that?

Every horror movie you've ever watched at Swerve's on movie night, comes back to haunt you. The aliens out in the dark have their own legends and myths. Some of them, you've learned the hard way, aren't only legends or myths.

Sweat drips into your eyes. Fuck it.

Are you going to play nice, or am I going to kick your ass off my ship?

You slam the augmented crowbar home and pry the lid off –

That's all I can say, really. The rest is up to you. Good luck. Maybe I'll see you out here in the stars. Lost Light ship's human, signing off.

[nightscythe]

light sides of the primarchs' relationships

happy valentine’s day!! this one is a bit happier than the 'dark sides' one for obvious reasons. as always just my opinion. if there is anything else you would like to see, let me know! enjoy!!

18+, it's not necessarily nsfw but suggestive themes. based on pre-heresy interpretations.

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the lion: the ultimate protector. you'd never feel unsafe in his presence. not just from legitimate threats, but.. waking up in the morning to find his arms around you, eyes watching you, lips ghosting your hair as though he would never be able to let you go. you're minding your own business reading a book or listening to others talk, and even though he's on the other side of the room he's still watching, calculating, making sure every single person near you is treating you well. if anyone did try anything? nice knowing them. you become his priority. his endless war. nothing will ever harm you again, except maybe him, on his endless war with making you feel every ounce of pleasure the universe can offer. ;)

fulgrim: is also your best friend, but not in the typical guy way. he's literally invested in every single one of your stories, he knows everyone's little secret, he comes back to you with tales he's learnt and weekly scandalous gossip. he knows everything about you. it's not even deliberate either, he's just so in sync with you that he could take a wild guess and still get it right. nights together can feature many things, all of which are thoroughly enjoyed due to his ability to perfect every single thing he does, but knowing there will never be a time you cannot talk to him about something? knowing he'd give you the best advice, more accurate responses, it's very comforting.

perty: you know everything with him is genuine. he would never lie to you, and that may be hard to swallow at first, but really? its a godsend. he'd not try to make you feel better by telling you a slight truth, he'd rather help you to move past it, work on the issue, etc. and that's why, a long way down the line when he does give you infrequent but honest words about his love for you, it means more than anything. there is not someone in the galaxy that you could trust more than this man, not with your life, your secrets, or your heart. and really, it would only ever get stronger over time.

the khan: enjoyably unpredictable. a man who values freedom always would be. he uses his instincts in everything and therefore it may not always be easy to know what he's going to do next. would encourage you to do things you may never have thought about, shows you new parts of the galaxy and introduces you to topics and concepts you knew nothing about before him. for that reason, he's an absolute storm when you are alone. completely unpredictable and completely dedicated to pleasing you. he's also just enjoyable to be around. he may be a touch arrogant and quick tempered, but he's witty, sarcastic, and excellent with his successful attempts to rile you up with teases.

leman: his love is very pure and built on a huge amount of respect. small gifts, tokens of appreciation, oh its all coming out with him. 'made me think of you' type thing and it's the most beautifully designed canvas that you know he wouldn't have just stumbled across. of course this is very different to how everyone else sees him, and no one would believe you. uses that to his advantage. loses all sense of practicality though when it comes to you and would probably show you 110% of his emotions even when he didn't intend to. his heart is in it, no half measures, you're his entire world now and as long as you will let him, he will love you for the rest of his life.

dorn: he is cold, but there is that burning fire that rages beneath. and when the cracks are fully formed? its impossible to ignore. he will not say I love you, but show you he loves you. there are never ups and downs, no maybes - its always a definite. if you need something? he gets it. you are worried about something? there is no need to worry for it any longer. he plans, he knows what to do to help you, he would never give reason to doubt that 1. he could protect you, and 2. his unwavering loyalty to you. does everything in his power to please you, particularly in the physical manner. when he's around, everything feels intense, and its oh so hard to ignore.

curze: he's trying. he is. you can see it each day. sometimes its not obvious, but he really does watch other people and try to imitate what they do to show you the love you deserve. because in his mind? you deserve it all. would he ever tell you that. no. he'd find it stupid. he'd rather keep it all to himself. but sometimes he bottles too much inside and it all comes out, all at once, every feeling he has. in that moment he just needs someone to hold him, reassure him, and be there to feel the love that follows. of course it isn't conventional, but even if he just taught you tarot, explained his twisted thoughts, tried to show you your fate - he's sharing a part of him that he'd not let another see.

sanguinius: effortlessly devoted, but not in the obsessive, overbearing way. you can see it in his eyes. he doesn't need to worship the ground you walk on or call in a choir to sing about you, you can just feel it. the small gestures. something so meaningful but so tiny that it almost snaps reality. helping you to braid your hair. trying his best to help you with something that he could have just ignored. listening to you with intent - not because he loves you so much he doesn't want to look away, but because he wants to hear you. listen to you. understand everything he can about you. it's so natural to him and warms you every time. something something doesn't care what time of the month it is either.

ferrus: always pushes you to be the best version of yourself. of course I have covered the bad side of this, but provided it's tamed, he understands there are limits, it can be rewarding. he will always reassure you that he doesn't need you to be perfect to love you, and would always encourage you to make decisions which benefited you - not anyone else. you'd also get to see his emotions, a rarity, knowing he only trusts so many to see him like that. a national accompaniment to this is that he pays a lot of attention to you. knows you extremely well. so if you ever argue, or don't talk for whatever reason.. be sure to engage the full ferrus apology - bedroom and all. crafts you really nice things too (of course)

angron: love is the only quiet he gets from pain. when you see him at ease, even for only a few moments, you can rest assured knowing that you were helping him. when he holds your hand, when he stands before you and defends you with his whole being, when he lets you fall into his arms and hesitantly wraps them around you. you know then that it's true. because he wouldn't do that for anyone else, and he couldn't physically do that if he did not have a moment of reprieve. and he knew as well that you gave him a chance, saw him for more than what everyone else did. that means more to him that anything.

rob: truly appreciates you. like, will show you, will make sure you know, will do anything in his power to make sure you're aware that the only reason he has an ounce of sanity left is because of you. you're the only person he will pause everything for, he will turn everything off to listen to you and your thoughts, he will actively seek your opinion on things he knows you would be happy to give it on, etctec. he just treats you like an equal. and considering who he is, that may be hard. but he does value you. yes he is pulled in every direction by all his duties but he knows where the limit is, and if either of you are reaching it, he will do what he can to make sure you feel happy and secure.

morty: it's those quiet moments that really stand out. when he lets his guard down for just a second, when he finally trusts you and knows that he would give his life for you until the very end. it wouldn't be easy for him to admit, and he probably never would admit it, but that one moment where he finally relaxes his shoulders and just lets you carry his burdens with him? it really does show a lot. and he would give everything for you. not even an ounce would be spared. it's easy to see it when he says it, that he loves you, even if he doesn't know the true meaning of the word. may not be conventional love, but to him, its everything.

magnus: there is not another who could love as much as he could. it's that simple. he's so utterly in love with you that he'd move heaven and earth just to see you smile. for a man with so many things going on, so many things to remember and do, he still keeps you at the very top of everything. finds little things for you that he'd think you like. recounts stories to see your smile. lays beside you and holds your hand whilst you tell him what's on your mind. it's routine for him, he does it without even thinking. nothing, and that is a hard nothing, will ever make him as happy as you do, and even when you're not around everyone hears your name, little snippets of his love for you, how much you mean to him, etc. he's so enamoured, so trusting, so in awe, that everything you do means something to him.

horus: incredibly intuitive and knows what you need before you do. has the tea and some fruit in his hands before you'd even mentioned you were thinking of having some. had someone prepare you a bath before you even said you were stressed. brought you some flowers when you were feeling down. cancels all his plans because you need someone with you. he does it to show he cares, knowing that sometimes he can be distant or busy, and it can be incredibly effective. also holds you incredibly tight. like your hand, when he embraces you, etcetc, it's like you're his security blanket in a way, which seems stupid because why does he need one, but actually he finds a lot of comfort in your presence.

lorgar: perfect if you want to be worshipped. that's how he'd treat you. and yes this has a dark side. but limited, not indulged or used for bad purposes, a good balance can be met. he's soft. his world would crumble without you. his exterior and how others view him is so different to what he's like with you that it seems wrong. but you are his everything. he would tell you it every day. he'd make sure you never forgot it. it may not be evidential to everyone, he's not proclaiming his love and devotion to anyone he sees, but to you its obvious. a silent prayer for your protection each day. for your good health. for anything he can do for you. and you'd know he'd burn worlds for you - just use that for the right purposes.

vulkan: a kind soul meant for love. he's not obsessed and devoted. he's not silent and brooding. he's what you think of when you have soulmate in mind. it seems to just come natural to him. he's your best friend, your lover, your everything - and he takes pride in that. he'd not need to burn worlds for you, he'd not watch you from the other side of the room without a world, he'd be beside you with his hand gently rested on you. it's just... normal? is that bad to say? but like the version of normal you always wanted, the normal in romance novels which warped our perceptions of relationships. you know. cute.

corax: incredibly loyal. quietly loving you from a distance until he's with you, then he's far more passionate and open. he's not one to have elaborate gestures done in your name, he probably wouldn't even do more than speak in a normal tone whenever others are around. but you know he's there. a brush of your hand with his when you look uncomfortable or worried. a glance in your direction every so often if you are separated. he'd always find his way back to you though, and you always know he's there at your side. and yes, very passionate when it's just you two, so much so you'd have first doubted it was the same person. he just saves it all for you. especially few things he's picked up along the way he thinks you may enjoy.

alpharius: you could never doubt his love. he'd never let you. it's so obvious that it's what makes telling him apart so simple. he just can't deny it when he's around you, he can't resist it at all. love is in everything he does. his touches as he walks past. his names for you. his insistence on always having you in his arms. it can be endearing. it is nice knowing that you are so loved, never a doubt in your mind that he does care. and if you do doubt him? he will change that. you won't ever doubt him again. you don't ever need to worry about his love for you, it won't change. he'll never stop loving you.

˗ˏˋ 𓅰 ˎˊ˗

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Silliness IV

Jerk Ford's behaviour was way worse while he was in the multiverse because while he was in his own dimension, Stan was there to keep him from going too far, and to mediate his interactions with other people when it came to important business.

Once he fell through the portal? Completely unrestrained.

Here's a small list of some of things he's done across the multiverse:

Un-sunk the mythical City of Atlantis to get back at a 'sh*tty tourist company'

Lifetime ban from all Space Waffle House locations across time and space for inciting a riot because a waitress kept calling him 'honey'.

Had someone legally assigned to permanent Cosmic Jury Duty.

Sowing the seeds of an extremely invasive and fast-growing varient of cucumber all over a large city in the Cat Dimension.

Not giving his two weeks notice at Space Hooters.

Infecting a galaxy-encompassing digital records archive with a virus that changed every third noun with the word 'dick'.

Invading a weed farm on a parallel Earth and replacing the 'mother plant' that all of the other weed plants were cloned from with a strain of marijuanna thats identical in every way, except it produces no THC.

Impersonated one of the Bounty Hunter versions of Ford so he could fake his own death, collect the bounty for himself from the Ford Hate Club, crash the party they threw to celebrate, and then slip away right as the real Bounty Hunter Ford showed up to report that he'd failed to capture Jerk Ford.

---

Remember how in a reverse portal what-if Jerk Ford told Fiddleford he would blow up the planet if he didn't help him rebuild the portal? And Fiddleford called his bluff?

Imagine you're Bill Cipher, and an oddly calm Stanford Pines tells you that in three days, he's going to blow up the Nightmare Realm with you in it.

So you laugh, because he's bluffing.

Two days later, it turns out he wasn't bluffing about blowing up the Nightmare Realm with you in it.

He was bluffing about giving you a third day, because he's a jerk like that.

---

Boss Music? This guy isn't much of a fighter, he isn't a boss fight. It isn't hard to finish a fight with him because he's impossible to beat in a hand-to-hand fight - he isn't very strong compared to most versions of Ford Pines- it's hard to finish a fight with him because he's slippery. He's just going to escape and run if he doesn't think he can win.

If I were to give him a theme song or something, it'd probably be Dangerous by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. Mostly because of the "I have to get home" sentiment.

You have to ignore the fact that he didn't actually get himself home, just like canon Ford his brother had to fix the portal to bring him back.

Bro was at least trying to get back home.

Here's a Jerk Ford Playlist by @tearosepedall:

---

Actually, the reverse portal scenario doesn't go quite the way you think it does.

Jerk Ford has to pretend to be Stanley. A school teacher. A resident of society that Gravity Falls actually loves. When he's been an active menace to society his whole life.

Stanley gets shoved into an unforgiving multiverse full of monsters, demons, aliens, and versions of his brother who project their resentment and anger towards their actual twin onto him instead as a proxy.

And they both ask themselves: "What would my brother do in this situation?"

Anyways, this is what happens with Stanley:

And this is what happens with Jerk Ford:

---

Fun fact: Jerk Ford is the reason there's no gnome queen.

While he was studying the gnomes during his researcher years in Gravity Falls, he discovered that the Gnomes only had one female, who was their queen by default.

Anyways he talks to her about how her greatest ambition in life shouldn't be having a hundred husbands and being barefoot and pregnant forever. No, her greatest ambition in life should be being one of the greatest hat models the world has ever known.

Anyways now she lives in New York, she may or may not also be a drug lord in the pixie dust cartel.

Soos, Mabel, and Dipper tried asking the mail box questions once.

It sent them a really long, angry, rambling letter starting with "What the f*ck did you just f*cking say about me, you little b*tch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals,"

Later on Dipper asked Ford about it, and he reveals that he traumatized the entity on the other side of the mailbox by sending it the question "is your refrigerator running?" every day for almost six years straight.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

hi! I’m not sure if you are in the mood of writing dark topics, but I thought I’d just put this out here, you don’t have to write it! I have always been suicidal sinces I was young, death it was never something that scares me, through out my life it was always up and down, sometimes those thoughts are strong, sometimes non existent. But recently it has been getting worse than it has ever been. I have always been pushed to do better, and that just recently got very overwhelming for me as my friend had won an award with basically zero experience at a activity while I had triple her experience but still have not won an award yet, I know how it sounds but for me it’s still hurts a lot, I felt like I could never be great in anyway. And my mom is not helpful in anyway possible. Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill has always been comfort characters to me, they helped me through some of the toughest times, so I’m trying to see if this trick still work :), if you could write a shot on a suicidal based or maybe even suicidal attempt with black hill x daughter reader it would mean the world to me. Again I understand that this is quite heavy so no pressure:) have a great day xx

Not Enough (Enough to me)

AS STATED IN THE ASK THIS STORY HAS THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME. PLEASE DO NOT READ IT. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.

Note: As always, I'm so glad you are still here.

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, mention of self-arm, mention of past abuse, sparring that leads to an injury, injury, protective blackhill parents

Relationship: Blackhill x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 4K

As soon as you show interest in space, your parents feed into it. It was a dream of yours to work at SABER. At first, it was NASA, but it took one story from your Aunt Carol to change your course. The idea of working in space on a space station and protecting Earth was enough for you to focus on your studies and physical fitness. You wanted no special treatment from Fury or Monica. You wanted to join the program on your merit and not who your parents are.

Maria Hill and Natasha Romanoff—the Black Widow and the Commander, the Avenger and agent of SWORD—it seemed impossible to go anywhere and not hear their names. When you told them of your dream, they supported you but expressed their concern for your safety, which was fair, but this was your dream.

The classes were challenging. The training sessions were brutal. But you gave it your all and came out on top of your class for the past two semesters. However, you were passed on an opportunity when you were the better candidate by a mile. There were rumors that your classmate got it from a very influential family. He complained to your professor and got it.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and blocked out the lights that danced on your ceiling. The paper that explained why you weren’t selected fell to the floor. One evening, Yelena asked why you wanted to go into space. She said you could make a difference on Earth. You told her the stars and planets fascinated you more. In space, there were so many unknowns yet to be discovered. You wanted to be part of the exploration.

However, you had a hidden motive for choosing space. The further ‘planet’ from Earth was 3.7 billion meters away. That was not counting warp points to other parts of the galaxy. Pluto was 3.7 billion meters away. That planet was the most straightforward comparison to show how vast space is for the average person on Earth. At any given moment, you could be that far away from all of your problems and demons. If you were 3.7 billion meters away, the darkness in your mind couldn’t hurt you.

At 5 years old, you were dropped off at a church. Your biological parents decided one night they no longer wanted to be parents. So the church brought you in. However, you endured the abuse from them for 5 years. It seemed by fate that you ran into Natasha and Maria. They saved you and adopted you on your 11th birthday. Finally, you had a safe home where you felt love. But the demons of your past still haunted you.

When it was quiet, and you allowed your thoughts to wander, you wondered if you were the problem. Maybe you weren’t good enough - that was why your biological parents gave you up, or the church hurt you. When were Natasha and Maria going to let you go? It was a waiting game, a ticking time clock. “Sweetheart,” Maria said, followed by a knock on your door.

You sat up. “Come in,” you forced the words out of your mouth. It tasted bitter. You wanted to be alone. The door opened, and Maria walked in. You moved to the middle of the bed so there was space for her. It was second nature to lay beside her and look at the ceiling.

“Tell me about that one,” Maria pointed to a deep indigo planet with teal streaks. Each star and planet that glowed on your ceiling was real. Another gift from Carol is that she recorded the planets she visited to give to you. It was tradition for one of your moms to lay on your bed and ask you a question.

“That is Vorexia,” you said. You saw her look at you, but you kept your eyes on the planet. “It’s terrestrial with an orbital period of 380 Earth days and a rotation period of 26 Earth hours,” you folded your hands behind your head. There are three major land masses, and the oceans are iridescent blue-green due to the bioluminescent plankton. Vorexia has two moons.” Maria let out a low whistle.

“Damn, you are so smart. Did not get that from your mom,” she teased. You rolled your eyes at her playful jab at the Black Widow. You felt her move onto her side to look at you. “You seemed quiet at dinner. Your mom and I were worried.”

“I’m fine,” you smiled and looked at her. “Just tired. Training was a bitch.” You heard a gasp from the hallway.

“Language,” Natasha said as she entered your room. “You know Steve doesn’t like that kind of talk.” The Black Widow lay on your other side with her back against the headboard. “Is it my turn to pick?”

“Come on, Nat. She just said she was tired. Let her rest. " It was funny to see a pout form on the redhead’s face.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Pick one.” You gently tapped her leg and brought your attention back to the ceiling. She waited for a few passes, then decided on a planet that was a mass of fiery orange and deep red. “Drakaris,” you whispered. “Unlike Earth, the planet’s atmosphere is thick with heavy carbon and a high sulfur content. There are three moons, and a phenomenon called the Burning Tides can occur, which is when the methane seas ignite due to atmospheric lightning.”

“Shit, kid,” Natasha said. “You get your brains from me.” Laughter broke out between you and Maria while Natasha was lost on what was funny.

Laughing and being surrounded by your moms was nice but it filled you with guilt. Why were you so sad and lost when you had everything?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Somehow, you failed. You stared at the test on your desk with a red 48 circled on the top. How was it possible? You studied for hours. For each practice test, you got at least a 97. How was this possible?

The rest of the class was a blur. A mind-numbing haze surrounded you. You came back to yourself when your professor called your name to stay after class. He asked if everything was alright at home due to your poor grades. Then he tackled on that he expected more from his best student.

You were his best student, but he passed you on the promotion to someone less deserving. You told him you would try harder and left the classroom. Classes were over, and you wanted to release all this pent-up frustration.

Better. He wanted you to be better because you weren’t enough. A simple statement to work harder felt like a slap on the face. All of your fears were confirmed. You needed to hit something hard.

You walked into the gym and into the locker room to change. The shirt was Natasha’s. It was one of her old SHIELD shirts. You felt stronger with one of your mom’s shirts during training. It was a placebo effect. Maria and Natasha watched your back during whatever fight you went in.

You were focused on each punch you sent to the sandbag. The tension was already leaving your shoulders. Although you preferred the logical and scientific side of your career path, you were trained by some of the best. “Agent Spider,” you rolled your eyes at the obnoxious nickname our classmates called you. As soon as they found out who your parents were, the name took like flies to honey. Jayce was the one who called you. He also was the one that your professor chose. “Wanna spar?” He asked and pointed to the mat behind him. A few of your other classmates were gathered around to watch.

“Sure,” you said, even though you were dreading it. But you were backed into a corner - called out in front of everyone. You stood on the sparring mat and faced Jayce. You’ve fought him before. He was stronger than you, but you made up for it with precision. Natasha taught you that no matter how big your opponent was, you could take them down if you were fast and technical.

Jayce rolled his shoulders and adjusted his stance. “I’m not gonna hold back, spider.” You stretched your arms.

“I expected nothing less, Yee,” you heard one of your classmates count down from 3 then yell, ‘Begin!’ You wanted to strike first, a quick step-in jab aimed at his ribs. He barely managed to parry before you spun into a high kick to force him back. The plan was to be relentless and tire him out.

But he pressed on. Jayce absorbed a few glancing hits before countering. He faked a jab to your left, drawing your guard, then swept low with his leg. You stumbled, barely catching yourself. “Getting slow, Jayce,” you taunted. Your stamina was keeping the fight out of his reach. Adrenaline was running through your veins. You were winning this fight. You were going to prove that you deserved to be here more than him.

“Just warming up,” he grinned, sweat dripping down his brow. He took to your strategy and came at you hard. A punch, a knee to your side - you blocked most but not all. You gritted your teeth and retaliated with an elbow strike to his chin.

Something inside him snapped.

You saw it in his eyes.

Fueled by frustration, Jayce grabbed your wist mid-strike and yanked hard. A moment of imbalance. A single misstep. Before you could react, Jayce pivoted and twisted your arm behind your back with too much force. A sickening crack echoed in the gym.

You tried to fight it, but you screamed. Jayce loosened his grip, and you crumbled to the mat, clutching your arm. The room fell into a stunned silence, then erupted into noise.

Too many hands were on you. Someone called for the doctor. During the chaos, you found Jayce with no regret on his face.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

According to Helen, you were lucky it was a clean break, and surgery wasn’t required. Nothing felt lucky about this situation. You were beaten. Again, you weren’t good enough. You knew you should have felt pain during the x-ray or when the cast got set on your arm, but you felt nothing. Again, a numbness washed over you.

Suddenly, the door to the room you were in opened. Your arm was on a side table as you waited for Helen to return. She wrapped it with a layer of soft, stretching fabric that she called a stockinette. Then, a roll of cotton is placed over it to put light pressure on the area and help it heal. She had to get the color you requested. First, you had to deal with your moms. “Hey, sweetheart,” Maria smiled. “How are you?”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “Helen gave me some medicine, so I don’t feel it.” It wasn’t a total lie. You wondered if it would have made a difference. Natasha sighed and kissed the top of your head.

“What happened, malen’kiy?” It had been years since she used that nickname. When the couple first adopted you, you took the time to learn Russian. You were like a sponge when it came to the language. She called you ‘little one.’

“It was an accident,” you told them. I was sparring with a classmate. He got the better of me. “You tried to joke, but you saw the look shared between the couple. Helen said I won’t need surgery,” you tried to change the topic. I’ll be out of training for a few weeks. "

“Who were you sparring with?” Maria asked. You felt small underneath her gaze. The look reminded you of when she was upset at new agents or when Natasha got hurt when Steve claimed it was an easy mission.

“Uh,” you were stalling. The last thing you wanted was for your moms to make a scene, but you couldn’t lie to them. “His name is Jayce Yee. Please don’t do anything,” you pleaded. “We were just sparring.” You watched the tension slowly leave Maria’s shoulders, but she still looked pissed. Before she could answer, Helen walked through the door with the next part of the cast.

“Alright,” she paused, clearly sensing the tension in the room. Her eyes danced between you and your moms. “Is everything okay? I can come back.”

“No!” You cringed at the sound. “I mean, can we just get this over with? I want to go home.” Maria sighed. She mimicked her partner and kissed the top of your head.

“Let’s see what color you picked out.” You picked out red, which Natasha was very happy about. Once the cast hardened, your moms were the first to sign it. They treated you to ice cream afterward, but you were thankful to finally go home.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You sat on your bed, back against your headboard, with a pencil down your cast. No one told you how itchy a cast would be. Sighing, you threw the pencil to the ground and looked up at the planets circling overhead. With your arm broken, you would be out of training and fall behind on the physical aspect, which was a problem because your test was coming up.

Everything was falling apart. It was like you were trying to hold onto water, but it was slipping through your fingers. You felt out of control, and everything was your fault. You heard footsteps approaching before you saw them. It was Natasha. She had a piece of paper in her hand. “How’s adjusting to the cast?” she asked while sitting next to you.

“It’s itchy,” you grumbled. The Black Widow laughed and pushed some hair out of your face. “Is there something else you wanted to talk about?” Your eyes subconsciously looked at the papers in her hand.

“Are you having trouble at school?” The question caught you off guard and froze you at the very spot you were sitting at. “We got this in the mail,” Natasha handed it to you. If you need help, I’m sure Maria can put in a word for you.”

You snatched the paper out of her and read it over. According to the document, you were on the verge of failing out of the program. That was impossible. You failed one test. “Sweetheart,” your hands crumbled the paper. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“This has to be a mistake,” you whispered, handing it back to her. “A-a glitch in the system. I’ll talk to my professor tomorrow.”

“Do you want-?”

“No.” You cut her off and shook your head. “No, I can handle it.” The whole point was to do this on your own without their influence. For some reason, Natasha gave you a small smile. It looked sad.

“Okay, honey,” she kissed your forehead. Come get us if you need anything,” she squeezed your non-cast hand. Anything at all, okay?”

“Okay,” you promised. “Thanks, mama.” When she left with the paper in her hand, she gave you one final smile. You flopped onto your stomach, face buried in the pillow. One thing after another after another. It seemed like everything was piling up.

Sitting up suddenly, you closed the door and walked over to your dresser. At the bottom of your sock drawer, there was a small box. Once upon a time, it was a box that once held a pair of earrings from Yelena. Now, it held a darker secret: a small razor blade. The item only came out when the world around you became too much. You changed into shorts and slipped on one of Maria’s old sweatshirts. Opening the window in your room, you climbed onto the roof.

You discovered by accident that you could access the roof by your window. A few years back, the news reported a meteor shower, and you wanted to see it. So you opened the window and climbed onto the roof. You were grounded for a week, but the view was spectacular.

You sat in the middle of the roof and looked at the city. Some parts of Earth’s beauty made your decision to work at SABER difficult. Your parents were here, and you’d hate to be so far from them. But there were things on Earth that could not be replicated in space—memories of you living in the city. The lights and sounds of New York were unmatched. It was a one-of-a-kind experience. Some of your happiest memories and darkest traumas happened in this city.

The box felt heavy in your hands. Deep down, you feared it wouldn’t be enough. The pain wouldn’t stop the feeling of dread that consumed you. You were never going to be good enough, no matter how hard you tried. Why couldn’t you be better?

It would be so easy to walk off the roof. Oddly enough, that thought didn’t scare you. Your home was two stories. It was a 50-50 shot that the fall would kill you.

The night sky was beautiful. Everything felt poetic. But you remained frozen to the spot. Typical, you cursed; you were too chicken to kill yourself. “Sweetheart,” you jumped at Maria’s sudden voice. “Can I join you up there?” You stared at her, blinking a few times. It was hard to comprehend her sudden appearance with half of her body out of your bedroom window. “I can stay right here,” a beat of silence passed. “What are you doing up here?”

“I-” You weren’t sure how to answer her. How could you look at your mother and tell her you came up here to make yourself bleed? To maybe take a few steps and end it all. “I don’t know,” you settled on. Maria nodded.

“What is your favorite space phenomenon?” You were sure confusion was all over your face. “Come on, squirt, I know you know this answer.” You huffed and stared at the city instead of the sky above. Still, you saw her move to be entirely on the roof. She kept her distance.

“It’s called the magnetars,” you gave in. “It’s a type of neutron star with an insanely powerful magnetic field. These objects are born from a massive star explosion and have a quadrillion times stronger magnetic field than Earth.”

A small smile came to your face. “What makes them so intriguing is that they sometimes produce starquakes - sudden shifts in their crusts that release intense bursts of x-ray and gamma rays. Some magnetars have emitted flares so powerful that they briefly affected Earth’s atmosphere,” the smile you were once wearing faded. “Sometimes the things that happen in space are so extreme it’s hard to comprehend. It’s so complicated,” you continued. “It will take a lifetime to understand it.” During your monologue, Maria made her way over to you. Her leg was slightly touching yours. You were okay with the contact. “Sometimes I don’t think I’ll be good enough to reach it.”

“Is that why you came out here? To see the stars one last time,” your head snapped away from the city lights to look at your mom. She was already staring at you. There was no pity in her eyes but love.

“I—” but you couldn’t tell her that she was wrong when that very thought crossed your mind. When I get stuck in my head, I see myself in a tunnel,” you closed your eyes and imagined it. Everything I love and I want is on one end, and I’m on the other. No matter how hard I try or how fast I run, I can’t reach you.”

Those at the other end constantly changed. Sometimes, it was your biological parents, and you pleaded for them to come back until your throat was raw. Other times, it was your dreams of getting into SABER. Recently, it was Maria and Natasha. You wanted them to stay, but they would leave you in the dark. “I just want to be good enough for you and Mama so you don’t leave me.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Maria hugged you. Your tears fell down your cheeks. Everything hurt. Each breath felt like you were inhaling shards of glass. Maria held on tighter to stop your body from shaking. “You will always be enough to me, your mam, and all your aunts and uncles.” She forced your chin up and whipped your tear-stained cheeks. “No matter what grade you get on a test or if you fall short of your goals, we will never leave you. You are our daughter. Now and forever.” You nodded and leaned back against her.

She was warm and safe and smelt like coffee, which you associate with home. A shiver went down your spine from the cold. “Come on. Let’s go back inside. Your mama is probably pacing a hole in your room.” She managed to make you smile. You nodded and allowed her to help you into your room.

Before you were settled on the ground, Natasha pulled you into a hug. “Gods, I knew we should have locked your window the first time we found you on the roof.” Maria laughed and closed the window behind you.

“There is no stopping this one from seeing the stars.”

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

“Of course, malen’kiy,” Natasha guided you to their bedroom with Maria behind you. Lilo was sleeping on the bed but jumped off when Natasha pulled back the covers for you, and you climbed in. With a smile, Natasha held out her hand for the box. You were too tired to argue, so you handed it over. “Sleep,” she whispered and sat on the edge of the bed. We will be right here.”

“Promise?” You asked and closed your eyes.

“Promise,” Maria repeated and joined on the other side. Natasha began to hum. A simple tune that helped you fall asleep when you first moved in with the couple. Like before, you fell right asleep.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Natasha kept humming until she knew you were asleep. “Did you tell her?” The Black Widow asked and opened the small box in her hands. She knew what would be in it, but it still took her breath away - a small razor. Oh, her sweet girl, you were hurting too much. How blind was she to it? Maria sighed, took the box, and set it on the side table.

“No,” Maria said. “She unloaded a lot. I didn’t think it was appropriate.” The letter from your school left an odd feeling inside Natasha’s stomach. The program was challenging, but you always excelled in it. At night, you would do your homework in the kitchen. Natasha thought you were studying a different language, but you loved it. Going against her word to not get involved, she and Maria dug into the program and found corruption. Jayce failed, and his family bribed your professor to keep him in. To make room, your professor purposely failed you. This meant Jayce breaking your arm was not an accident.

Natasha saw red. How dare someone hurt you because they were jealous or entitled? When Maria found your room empty and the window open, all her anger left. You were her priority. “I can’t lose her, Ria,” Natasha whispered, running her hand over your cast. “She is the best part of both of us.” Maria kissed your forehead, then kissed Natasha.

“We haven’t lost her,” Maria interlocked her hand with Natasha’s. “She’s right here. We will pull her off the edge.” The redhead brought Maria’s hand to her lips.

“What’s your favorite space phenomenon? " she asked her partner. Maria huffed and shook her head, but Natasha saw the corners of her lips turn up into a smile. They’ve been on so many sides of your rants about random space phenomena that they must have absorbed some of it.

“Probably galaxy mergers,” Maria answered. It’s when two galaxies drift close together. Their gravity pulls them into a dance until they merge into one.” Maria took a pause. Rather than chaos, these mergers often lead to new bursts of star formations.” Natasha smiled.

She liked that one too. It symbolized unity. Even in the vastness, things could come together. It was a reminder that even through turbulence, connection can lead to growth and beauty.

It was sound symbolism for the moment now. A lot was uncertain, but Natasha knew you would emerge from this turbulence brighter.

[kiestrokes]

Day 4: Stardust | NSFW

▸ Idol: Xu Minghao of SVT ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: active WIP, smut, monster fucking, dubcon. ▸ Vibe: Hao is the sleep paralysis demon that has been sexually edging you for months. Until one night you decided to edge him back. ▸ Warnings: language, demons, sleep paralysis.

Sexually Explicit Content: MONSTER FUCKING, DUBCON, DNI IF THESE THEMES ICK YOU OUT - IT IS FICTION - KINKSHAMING WILL BE BLOCKED/DELETED - intercourse (penis in vagina), raw sex, demon semen that has special effects, multiple orgasms for both, cum eating mentioned, mostly missionary, some cowgirl, kissing, marking, biting, clit stim, nipple stim.

🗝️ Note: Has not beta-ed by me or anyone else. Ok so listen…I toyed with the idea ever even posting this WIP. But then Hao goes and drops this single. I am bumping Jeonghan and Chanyeol to days 5 & 6 (you will get both at the same time). Minghao is taking day 4. I wrote this over the summer after being plagued with thoughts, that stemmed from an ask about SVT as Sex Workers. Good luck? Be nice.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

Xu Minghao is the sleep paralysis demon that has been edging you for months. He enchants your hands so you cannot get yourself off. Having to seek out men to do the job. As Minghao watches from the shadows.

None of them satisfy you.

He gives you just a little bit more during each of his visits. So close, left with frustratingly damp panties each time.

Until one night you say fuck the panties and go to bed nude.

Catching the demon off guard, his restraint shredding like nylon tights without your usual physical barriers to stop him.

He noses at your slit, a full glide, bumping of his nose against your clit. You moan groggily in your sleep, and he hisses in response.

Pinning your legs to the bed and licking you open. Your hips rock into his steady lapping until you start to come. You try to close your legs, but he won’t let you. His muffled groans as he eats away, pushing you into something far beyond overstimulation. You’re crying his name, body shaking.

Minghao finally relents and sits up to remove his pants. Stroking through your folds until he’s well lubricated.

“Wait-ah” you moan at the feeling of him bursting in.

You don’t see stars, you see swirls of dark purple and pink, a whole galaxy.

“Sorry little human my precum is a little…seductive.”

You come back into yourself to him hovering over you, hips plush against yours as he waits. Suddenly the patient demon you're used to haunting the corner of your bedroom.

“If you cum inside me, will I die?”

He laughs, “no you'll just have a really deep sleep.”

“Ok, that sounds nice.”

You nod and he smirks, “as if you had an option in this.”

Minghao flexes out and you gasp, “so tight.”

He snaps his hips, and you bow against the bed slightly in response. His long fingers grip your hips setting to work. Stroking your insides until you’re trembling on his cock, arousal coating his length with a creamy ring.

“Been that long huh?”

He chuckles at your intimate display, tugging your hips down a little harder enticing you become more vocal.

“Come on little human, come on my cock, milk me a little, let me fuck you sleepy.”

Your body tightens and so do your legs around his hips, “ahhh but wait-wait.”

You want a kiss but you’re coming around him and he’s moaning and picking up the pace as he releases just a little into you. His hips slowing as your body limps and falls into a light sleep.

“That’s it,” he fucks into you lightly as you doze.

Painted hands stroking your breasts and nipples before he lifts you up to sit in his lap. Cock buried deep inside so that he can have access to nuzzle your chest. Lips and teeth and tongue, kissing and sucking each breast and nipple.

Your skin silky under his turning him on so much so that he releases the love bite he had been sucking on your neck to choke out a surprised moan, leaking another release into you accidentally.

He pulls out to lay his dick against your clit, nestled in the valley of your netherlips. Hips rubbing listlessly as he explores your body. Until his palms clench handfuls of your ass to rut against you.

You cry out softly in your sleep at the clit stimulation and he ruts back inside. Fucking into you roughly as he lays you back down

“Mmm kiss” you whine.

Minghao rasps a laugh, clutching your jaw and to kiss your pouting lips before licking inside with a growl. You groan groggily and wrap your limbs around him.

He huffs, hips falling back into a steady rhythm with yours. Deeper this time in your embraced state. Gasping into your mouth between your needy kisses as he thrusts. Eating your moans.

“Could stay here all night, just fucking you like this.”

“Please,” you sigh.

The demon swirls his toned hips and your head presses back into the pillow climax building again. He watches you pumping you through it as you gush around him. Sweat slicking your bodies. His tongue flicks out to lap at your clavicle. Panting into your neck. Other hand tucked behind you on the small of your back.

“Another?”

“Yes,” he groans and sits back on his calves' lips parted fingers biting into your hips “so messy.”

- at one point he finishes but wants to eat you out and accidentally causes himself to fall asleep -

You wake up to him still in your bed and climb on top. He’s surprised that you’re not freaked out and lets you ride him.

“I’m not going to cum, you can fuck me as much as you want.”

You whine, “I want you to cum again.”

Minghao lets out a wispy laugh and cups your face.

“I’ll pull out?”

You nod eagerly. His head kicks back and he lets go as you ride him. Eyebrows furrowing as he watches you through slit eyes. Squeezing your thighs and ass appreciatively as you bounce on his cock. Your climax reaches you frustratingly quick, body falling out of rhythm. Minghao fucks up into you when you can’t continue on top, your muscles tightening on themselves, trying to fold you up. He flips you over, thrusting hard from above.

You’re mesmerized. His hair shimmers a rainbow colors in the morning light leaking through your curtains. You let out a choked moan as you orgasm hits you at the sight of him.

“Fuck, look at you," the demon gasps.

His hips stuttering and stills himself; muscles flexing before continuing.

“Not yet,” he hisses to himself.

Minghao slows his stroke, focusing on burying himself inside you. Stretching your sensitive core in a way that has you clutching the sheets to ground yourself.

“I want to consume you.”

You cry out, “you are, all I see is you, all I feel.”

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes  All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations. No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the writing of this work. The author expressly prohibits any entity from using this for purposes of training AI technologies to generate text, including without the limitation technologies capable of generating works in the same style or genre as this publication. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

[thanksbutno98]

hey I just wanted to say I absolutely love your stories and you're an amazing writer!

I saw you're having a hard time finding inspiration so maybe something like a really hot and young guy flirts with the reader, John gets really insecure because he's older and reader decides to remind him just how hot he is ;) doesn't have to be nsfw if you're uncomfortable with that.

Anywho, hope you have a wonderful day and can't wait to read anything you come up with

Jealousy

John Price x fem!reader

Authors Note: thank you so much for your wonderful idea! I used a bit of inspiration form another request to write this. It’s a bit of a dive back into the start of John and Indy’s relationship. This post was giving me such a hard time to post so it’s not my best quality purely based off frustration.

Summary: A day of shopping with your children turns awry when John Price meets your ex for the first time.

Warnings: sexual themes, mention of cheating, insecurities, severely not edited.

——————

Silky fabric slipped through your fingers as you continued to pushed clothes aside. The hangers scraped against the cool metal hanging racks as you searched for the appropriate size. Pulling out the white Hawaiian shirt that was decorated in pineapples you turned to your husband with a bright smile. Holding it up and seeing if it suited him.

You could see John was trying to light the shirt ablaze with his fiery gaze. He knew better than to argue with you over clothes since you constantly told him how poor his fashion sense was. Begging him to branch out a bit from flannels, quarter zips, and plain t-shirts and jeans.

Looking him over with the shirt still in hand you shook your head and frowned. It wasn’t the right one so you continued your search for some pleasant beach attire for your husband. John sighed in relief not having fallen victim to you dressing him up. Although those obnoxious light blue swim trunks with flamingos on them were going to find there way back on a hanger when you weren’t looking.

Today was the day you had dragged your whole family out to go shopping. The kids needed new clothes and you needed a few odds and ends. The department store had everything you could think of and your husband was dreading it along with his son. This meant you would end up with things that weren’t even on your list, like a shirt for John. He had half a mind to go look at the power tools since you were getting out of hand.

John was dressed in jeans and a fitted black quarter zip that he had pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. His facial hair was freshly manicured and he smelled of cedar and spearmint. Lily was strapped into the baby carrier on his chest and babbling away, occasionally tugging on John’s facial hair which would make him wince but he didn’t do much about it.

Evelyn and Jj had been subjected to try on outfit after outfit. Evelyn loved every second of it. Strutting around and modeling the clothes for you all. Jj on the other hand was entering into an age where he hated everything you picked out for him. Deciding to let him choose his own clothes which you and John were internally cringing at. He was getting his sense of style from his father which wasn’t saying much. So far Jj insisted on camouflage cargo pants, a jean jacket and kept looking through hats unable to find one he loved.

The tapping of small feet caught your attention as you watched your daughter zoom through the clothing racks. She had her favorite red sweatshirt on and galaxy leggings. You had let her and Jj roam around the toy and video game section while you and John finished up the shopping.

“Can I get this?” Evelyn was holding up a small Lego set.

It was the Harry Potter hospital set that your daughter had been eyeing for months. You thought about it for a moment seeing no problem with spending the money since you had gotten a hefty bonus at work. The word ‘yes’ was on the tip of your tongue but before you could say a word your husband interjected.

“No. You hardly pick up your legos as is.” John had a straight face and you knew exactly what was on his mind.

The previous night John had stepped on a stray Lego in the living room. You could have sworn he had gotten shot with how he hollered in pain. The man complained so much he claimed they were more effective than landmines or he could start using them as shrapnel in grenades. You could only roll your eyes at his dramatics and asked in a condescending way if he needed a med evac. You two ended up bickerimg about it until you both realized how childish you were being. Ending up cuddling on the couch and making up from the silly spat by taking turns rubbing the others feet.

“But it would be so cool if Danny came over and put it together with me.” Evelyn pleaded with her father. Taking the box and showing him and then babbling about how cool it looked.

You watched as John’s eye twitched in annoyance. Evelyns new best friend was a boy named Danny who just moved in down the street. They had become thick as thieves and played every day they could and rode their bikes around together. It was cute because the boy had the biggest crush on your daughter and the first two times he had come over he had a flower for you and one for Evelyn. It was common to see him a few times a week he even had dinner with you from time to time and Evelyn would at his house too.

Dannys father joked about young love which John did not appreciate. Shooting the comment down and saying his daughter wasn’t in love. You later lectured John to stop being overprotective the two kids were seven it was an innocent crush that you weren’t even sure your daughter reciprocated. It had gone so far Jj was becoming skeptical of Danny and you were convinced John told your son to keep an eye on the young boy so there was ‘no funny buisness’ as John liked to say.

“Why don’t you put it in the carriage for now. We’ll think on it. Look at me Evie that doesn’t mean yes.” You were bending down to her level to make it clear to your daughter. She smiled sweetly then gave you her signature puppy dog face.

“Okay, mummy! Can I keep looking at the toys?” She asked, her small hands clasped as she swayed back and forth looking incredibly cute.

“Go for it.” You laughed and watched as she skipped away from you and your husband, leaving the clothing section and going off to explore.

“You’re spoiling her.” John reminded you.

“I know but I can’t help it. We both grew up with so little don’t you want to see them have the things that we could never have?” You asked batting your eyes up at your husband. It was now your mission to get him to agree with buying this Lego set.

John’s stern expression faltered for a moment. Seeing you all doe eyed and looking up at him as if he had hung the moon and the stars had his heart rate picking up slightly. You were so pretty with your hair tied back and in the scoop neck, long sleeve sweater dress, that hugged your body perfectly. John loved being as tall as he was because it gave a perfect vantage point to see right down your dress and admire your cleavage. That’s when John realized what you were doing and his eyes narrowed. Your arms were pressing your breasts together in an attempt to seduce him. You were trying to play him and get what you wanted by using your feminine charm, and it almost worked.

“You’re tricks aren’t going to work on me today.” John quipped. You pretended to be disappointed, pouting slightly and sighing in a pathetic way as if you’d been beaten.

“Am I wrong though?” You asked in mock sadness. John could only chuckle at your display. A smile peaking through your charade.

“No, you’re not. But if we buy it she should do some extra things around the house to earn it.” Wrapping his arm around your shoulders John pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. You smiled brightly up at him.

“Fair enough.” Your words were chipper. Standing on your toes and kissing John’s cheek sweetly and giving him a seductive wink. You giggled as your husband slyly grabbed a handful of your ass.

“I’m going to go look at a few more things if you wanna take a walk.” With a smile you pointed in the direction of beauty department.

“Yeah, hopefully a walk will put this little one to sleep.” John peered down at Lilly who was staring at him and blinking slowly, her eyes clearly heavy.

You and John walked out of the clothes section and parted ways. John took the carriage and looked over his shoulder so he could check out your ass as you walked away. That���s when John noticed a group of about five university aged boys pointing at his darling wife clearly enamored by you. One of the boys gestured in a way that made it seem like your ass was perfectly round, which John agreed it was but still he didn’t like anyone else noticing. Another shoved a tall lanky kid as if to get him to go up and talk to you but you were already gone. John memorized their faces in case he needed to do anything about their crude behavior. When they saw John staring they were quick to shuffle away.

It always made John incredibly angry when other men ogled you or acted in a perverted way. The fact you were beautiful and sexy as hell was one of the reasons John couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He benefited from it greatly and you were just as enamored by him. That didn’t stop the wariness John felt.

There had been multiple occasions when men had cornered you or made you feel threatened and it sickened John. Your sweet nature usually got you into a bit of trouble with gross men and your feisty attitude could only go so far. It was concerning at times.

By the time you made it to the beauty section your phone had dinged. Opening the new text message from your husband you laughed out loud.

‘Those uni boys were checking out your ass. Let me know if you need back up.’

‘Only you can handle all this ;)’ You texted back.

You giggled as you typed away on your phone. John responded with a simple ‘ok’ which wasn’t surprising. That man was a horrible texter and couldn’t be bothered to learn how tone works through text. You went back to searching for the brand of deodorant you liked and then makeup wipes. It didn’t take long before you were heading to the toy section to gather both your children and go find John.

“Y/N?” A distantly familiar voice called your name. You knew that voice you just couldn’t quite place who’s it was. Turning your eyes immediately fell to your husband about 15 yards away who was waving and pointing down at Lily to signal she had fallen asleep. But it wasn’t John’s voice you heard. Turning slightly your eyes became as big as saucers. In front of you stood Hugh your ex boyfriend from right before you met John.

Hugh looked almost exactly the same only aged a bit. His curly jet black hair was gelled back, a single curl coming loose and falling just above his eyebrow. He was dressed in jeans, work boots, and a leather jacket. That’s when you remembered he rode a moter cycle. It was strange seeing bits of grey in his hair and lines on his forehead. His green eyes were still bright and he still stood much taller than you. With outstretched arms he motioned for a hug, his body still looking toned and athletic. It had you feeling strange that he was still so handsome. That’s when the thought of who he was as a person came flooding back.

You couldn’t help the sour face you gave him. The smile on his face dropping as he realized you weren’t happy to see him after so many years. With an awkward laugh Hugh slowly dropped his arms to his side.

“You’re still a knockout, Y/N. I’m sorry for how shitty things ended. I was a real prick.” The way he complimented your appearance with his thick Yorkshire accent didn’t come off crude and that was his type of charm. Flirting in the most innocent way that could be misconstrued as friendliness. It made your skin crawl.

“Honestly I’m happy you were a prick. I wouldn’t have met my husband if you weren’t.” You gave him a forced smile. It felt better to show off your happiness than to show how much you didn’t want to see him.

“Oh, woah. Congrats, that’s amazing for you. He’s a lucky guy.” Hugh looked you up and down again his eyes lingering a second to long on your chest. You didn’t know it but he was wondering how your breasts had gotten so much bigger.

“I am.” John’s thick voice cut in, a bit more gravely than usual. He sounded like he did after chain smoking or when he first woke up in the morning.

John wasn’t too sure how intimidating he looked with a sleeping baby strapped to his chest or a carriage filled with pink and purple clothing for Evelyn and a breast pump since yours broke the previous day.

When John saw you look this guy up and down, frown and then give a snarky expression so openly, he was hustling over. John had no clue who this man was or what he said but John was still on guard from the university boys from earlier. It also didn’t help this man is what he thought most women would consider conventionally attractive.

“Holly shit. You’re a mum?” The look of surprise made John’s grip tighten on the carriage.

“Yeah, John and I have three. John, this is Hugh. Hugh, John.” You gave John a simple smile eyes communicating everything as you held contact for a second longer than usual. John had heard the name before having told about this long ago while you two were only first dating.

“Nice, to meet you mate.” You watched as they shook hands and you knew they were both death gripping the others. John was instantly pissed off to have this prick trying to grip his hand so tightly. Maybe you had a type. Over protective, calm and collected, tall, British men. Sprinkle in a little bit of a prideful ego and a need for dominance.

“Seem surprised, Y/N’s a mum.” John couldn’t help but challenge Hugh’s former comment. His eyes were narrowed and you could see them both standing a bit straighter and sizing the other up. You wanted to roll your eyes at these two who were getting into a pissing contest. You were married for Christ sake it’s not like there was anything to worry about. John had his ‘claim’ over you, it was sitting on your ring finger and strapped to his chest.

“Ah, she just didn’t want kids I thought.” Hugh said a bit hesitantly. It was a rude thing to say in front of your husband. If violence was an option you would have smacked him. You always wanted kids just not with him.

“You didn’t want kids?” Jj’s voice interrupted you all. A cold shiver ran up your spine and your skin felt hot. Turning you saw your boy with a baseball cap on backwards.

“No, no. Of course I wanted you.” There was no hesitation as you went to hug your son.

“Ew, not in public mum.” Jj stepped away giving you an annoyed look. Then giving the random man you were talking to a dirty one since his father looked like he wanted to kill the guy.

“Well, it was-“ you paused for a second trying to find the right word.

“Surprising, to see you.” You shot a forced smile over your shoulder. Hugh caught the hint and nodded with a tight lipped smile to John, then you and walked away.

“Who was that?” Jj asked giving you a pointed look.

“An old uni friend of your mums.” John explained. It was a round about way of saying it. You had met Hugh at the end of your doctoral program and dated for awhile. The break up happened the week before you went on that dig where you met John.

It was a messy break up and you were ready when it ended. The constant fighting, lack of trust, and his controlling nature was why you ended things and Hugh didn’t react in a way you were expecting. Immediately sleeping with the girl he told you there was no need to worry about out of spite. Then begging for you two to get back together and give him another chance.

It lasted a few years before he stopped reaching out at random times. He would wish you happy birthday or ask if you were free for dinner. You had answered a few times at the very beginning when John was dragging his feet about wanting to date you and be single due to his job. Once you realized you had fallen in love with John you stopped answering any phone call, email, or text. Ending with Hugh showing up at your door a week after John ended things with you and that was the last night you saw him. Choosing to ignore any form of communication after that in hopes to get yourself to stop going down the self destructive path you ended up on.

“Lets get Evie it’s time to go.” John gave Jj a reassuring look but wouldn’t look you in the eye.

——————

“John, please stop giving me the cold shoulder.” You were standing at the foot of your bed blocking your husbands view of the tv.

“I’m not.” John said simply with a shrug. Then grabbing his book off the nightstand so he could read since you were blocking the tv.

“John, what’s bugging you?” You asked knowing for a fact it had to be running into Hugh.

“Nothing.” John muttered in a clearly annoyed tone.

“Fine.” You sighed. Getting into bed you laid on your side with your back turned to your husband.

Since you ran into Hugh at the department store John had wanted little to do with you. Jj asked if you were fighting and John told him ‘no’ and then continued to keep his distance. It had been one word answers and a complete lack of eye contact. John sat outside for the majority of the evening smoking cigars.

John stared down at the book in his hands, not actually reading. His mind had been racing since the name Hugh came out of your mouth. John knew you had slept with Hugh once after you met John. It was when John told you he didn’t want anything serious and you should see other people; breaking your heart and leaving you devastated and lonely. You hadn’t done anything wrong but John was incredibly self conscious that you sought out male affection during your three month break up while he couldn’t get you out of his head.

John was incapable of looking at another woman sexually let alone romantically during that time and he never understood why you did what you did, but now it made sense. Hugh was leagues better looking than John thought he was and time seemed to not affect him as drastically as it did John. Insecurity and jealousy had found its way into John’s mind as he questioned if he was as attractive as you said he was.

The thing that continued to naw at John’s brain was how much older he looked standing next to you and your former lover. John didn’t feel inadequacy often but tonight he was plagued by it. Thoughts of you once in that man’s arms and how he looked at you, all these years later as if you had seen each other only a week ago. If John hadn’t been such a fool Hugh would have never found his way into your bed that last time.

“So you really only slept with him that once while we were broken up?” John asked the question before realizing he was speaking. John cringed as he watched you sit up rapidly giving him a shocked and clearly hurt expression. John wanted to take the question back as soon as he realized he was talking.

“You think I’d lie about something like that?” A pain clanged in your heart at your husbands question. After being married for as long as you were did he really have that little trust in you.

“No, I just. . . Don’t see why you continued to wait for me when he’s clearly a very attractive man.” John tried to reason as if his question was appropriate. You were even more offended that John was thinking you were that shallow.

“Well first off I wasn’t waiting for you like some lost puppy. I was trying to get over you because you ended things between us. Secondly, I was and continue to be in love with you. I chose to tell you what happened because full honesty is important to me. I didn’t tell you so you could question my loyalty years later.” The words came spilling out and you were far from nice as you practically hissed them at John; who was staring back at you as stoic as ever. Normally you could get a read on him but you had no clue what was going on in his head.

“I’m not questioning your loyalty or calling you a liar.” John rolled his eyes making your blood boil.

“Well it sure feels like it. Then what are you asking?” You snapped, face flushed with anger. You were embarrassed to even be talking about this. The only man you thought about in that way was your husband and you didn’t want to drag up that old humiliating memory. You were still mortified that you allowed your self respect to get that low and allow Hugh into your apartment that night let alone your body.

There was a long lapse of silence as you watched the gears turn in your husbands head. It was clear John was stewing over something else and going this roundabout way to get there. John tended to do this when he really had some strong or hurt feelings about something. It was as if he was incapable of just spitting it out and being straightforward about whatever was on his mind. Which you assumed was that he thought you might have cheated all those years ago. Only that wasn’t the case for John.

“Why me? Over him? He’s good looking enough, clearly smart since you met through uni, and isn’t in the god damn military. And he certainly doesn’t look as worn and aged as me.” John practically barked the words out at you. It was clear he was angry, you weren’t sure with who, as he told you what was on his mind.

“Wait.” You held you hand up and closed your eyes trying to gather your thoughts. This was not about John thinking you were unfaithful all those years ago. John actually though Hugh would have been a better romantic choice for you over him; and that stunned you.

“Why did I choose you over Hugh?” You asked again to make sure your ears weren’t deceiving you.

“Yeah. And be honest. I want the whole truth.” John said forcefully. He was holding his breath not sure if he actually wanted to hear the truthful answer. Maybe you had just settled for John because Hugh got the shag he wanted and then disappeared after. Maybe you were filled with regret and wondered what your life could have been.

“Because Hugh is a condescending, manipulative, asshole. Who never actually cared about me. He just wanted to control what I wore, who I was friends with and never once supported my career.” You took a deep breath before you spoke again. Laying the angry words to rest so you could really get John to listen to you. Taking John’s hand you turned so you were facing him and sitting criss cross, your eyes locked on his sad baby blues.

“I fell so hard and madly in love with you that day you took me to our first football match. I never stopped loving you even when you broke up with me. I loved you far longer than you did me and I don’t regret it for a second. When you ask why I didn’t end up with Hugh it’s simple. He wasn’t you. I’ve only ever wanted you, John.” You couldn’t help the emotion that came pouring out of you as you told your husband something you thought he already knew. Those times in your early relationship were always so uncertain yet you took the chance and loved him whole hearted. Even when he didn’t do the same for you.

“I love you, darling.” John sighed out the breath he was holding. Squeezing your hand and feeling the insecurity begin to wash away at you pouring your heart out for him. You were right. You had loved him far longer than he deserved and now he was questioning that all because he was self conscious of his greying hair.

“You’ve got me for life. And I want you to know I have yet to meet a man that is half as perfect for me as you.” Your honeysuckle words had John visibly relaxing. A small smile dusting across his lips.

“I’m sorry for questioning you. Just don’t know how you like sleeping with a prune like me.” John admitted. Finally able to tell you in his own way he was self conscious due to his appearance.

“Like? I love getting to have a sexy bear of a man like you all over me. Have you seen yourself naked?” You brought your fingers to your mouth and did a ‘chefs kiss’ so signify how delicious John was. John couldn’t help but laugh knowing you really did mean it.

“Facial hairs still not too much?” He asked.

“How could I have a mustache ride without it?” You flirted shamelessly. The ego boost you were giving your husband had something stirring awake in his sweatpants. You could see the confidence coming back to your husband so you pushed just a little bit more. Moving in closer you rested your chin on John’s toned and broad shoulders.

“Or maybe it’s your huge cock.” You whispered seductively into John’s ear.

“I am pretty lucky aren’t I?” John turned his pupils blown and all former insecurity forgotten.

“I think the same thing about myself.” You said smugly. Only a few centimeters separating the pair of you.

“You’re really going to feel the same when I’m a crotchety old man?” John asked sincerely getting a wicked smile form you in return.

“You’ll be my old man. I’ll love you until the day I die. Walker and all.” The sweet tone and honest nature of your words had John falling even more in love with you.

“Get over here.” John’s arm wrapped around your waist pulling you close. You took the opportunity to straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. With splayed hands on your back you held each other in a tight embrace.

“Now, how about I show just how good looking you are.” You purred kissing down John’s bare neck.

“Oh really?” A gruff groan left John’s throat as you began to grind down on his stiffened length.

“Think you can keep up old man?” You teased. A squeal leaving you as John quickly flipped you over and pinned you to the mattress.

“Oh no, darling. I’m going to have my way with you until all you can say in my name.”

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