#anyway this has been sitting in my drafts since yesterday

[gale-in-space]

Alright, I'm feeling open and uninhibited for no particular reason, so I'm gonna go for it. What the hell.

I highly suspect that I have npd, or narcissistic personality disorder to the uninitiated. Or at the very least, I feel like I definitely have traits of it.

I think a lot of people don't really understand what npd is. I didn't, for sure. I think initial gut reactions to npd tend to be ones of disgust and fear mainly, which are often colored by people's impressions that npd is nothing more than the following: 1) excessive self-absorption 2) a massive superiority complex and 3) utter disregard for others.

It's really a lot more complex than that. A lot of this stuff, at least in my experience, stems from trauma. In my case, it's maladaptive thought patterns and behaviors that maybe served me as a kid trying to survive in an abusive household, but no longer benefit me as an adult. These tendencies have even sabotaged a lot of relationships I've tried to build over the years. It's a very isolating experience.

Let me break it down a bit:

Anecdotally speaking, the excessive need for praise and admiration often seen in typical npd profiles appears to be related to a significant lack of such things in the formative years of one's life. Feeling like you're fated for something greater, like you deserve better than these idiots around you, that you're special somehow and if only other people could see that - that's a trauma response. It's like a form of escapism. As a kid, I fervently wished I could be swept off to a magical land where I was the "chosen one" destined to save its denizens. I used fantasy as an avenue for finding meaning for myself. Really, I just wanted to know that I mattered, especially when my family and classmates and teachers made me feel like I didn't.

Npd, at least to me, also comes with tendencies towards debilitating perfectionism. This can manifest in a few ways. Avoiding situations in which failure feels like a certainty is one such example. For me, this would involve dropping out of anything that I wasn't immediately good at, or was awkward in, or made somewhat of a minor embarrassment of myself (by virtue of being new and also, you know, a human who messes up sometimes. Which is what we humans do).

Directly dovetailing from that: A lot of us narcissists deeply fear being perceived or exposed as a failure. It's like our horrible secret, that we're actually worthless creatures that are only ever capable of ruining things, and that we don't actually deserve anyone's precious time. Or at least, that's how it feels for me. And in some way, I feel like that is my unconscious brain's way of being like "hey, if I shrink my self-esteem down a bunch so that I appear very humble and modest, I'll get more affection and praise and compliments insisting that I'm better than I say I am."

And I eat that shit up. It's like fuel for me. The problem is, it's not sustainable.

It's a really tricky thing to balance, and as of yet, I've not come up with a great solution for dealing with it. My self-esteem is devastatingly low, despite my embarrassingly entitled attitude towards receiving compliments. I think another thing that throws a wrench into the works a bit is (if my theory is correct) the fact that growing up with trauma makes happy memories a bit more slippery to hold onto. So any kind of genuine praise I get is almost immediately forgotten, disappearing into a black hole that is desperate to be filled.

I think something that might help is keeping a record of compliments that people give me. Writing them in a journal, keeping them in a document of some sort, etc, etc. People can't always give all-positive feedback all the time. That's just not how feedback works. But for the days when I'm feeling low and like I don't know who I am or why I'm even here, I can refer to my records. I can use this as evidence. And hopefully, this will provide a foundation for me to build a more robust sense of self.

Anyway, I've rambled on long enough. If you've read this far, thanks! And if you haven't, well, you haven't.

Yeah. Anyway. Later!

[ussgallifrey]

Home for the Holiday | Part 3

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, arguments, fake dating, hurt/comfort, Jake’s family being fake and generally awful towards him, mentions of divorce, mentions of past abuse, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 9.9k

✦ Author’s Note: Hi, has it been over a year since I posted anything for this story? It must be a Christmas miracle! Anyway, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, slowly getting added to every few months. And here we come to the end of Jake's annoying family. The next two chapters will be decidedly happier, I promise.

[Master List]

You’re woken neither by your own internal clock nor the backup alarm on your phone but by the irritated slamming of something across the hotel room. It takes you a second to properly assess the sound as being of the non-dream variety. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you push up onto your elbow to stare into the unsettled darkness.

The golden light from the bathroom spills out into the entryway where a shirtless Hangman seems to be fighting a losing battle with the foldup ironing board.

“You good?” you call out, voice still hoarse with sleep.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, mustering out an almost guilty, “Shit, sorry Pits.”

You wave him off, sitting up properly - the white sheets spilling over your thighs.

The bedside clock informs you that it’s still early in the morning, though not unreasonably so. He had told you the drive to his father’s place would take a while, so it made sense for him to be up at this hour but less so for whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish across the room.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, scratching at the back of your neck as you pad your way over to find out.

“What’s with the iron?”

There’s a seafoam green shirt on the board with a plugged-in iron on its end, that much you can see.

“Damn thing won’t turn on,” he flicks the buttons on the iron up and down, on and off.

Quirking your brow, “You know it takes time to heat up, yeah?”

He pauses, fixing you with an exasperated look, “Fifteen minutes enough for you?”

Throwing your hands up in a defensive hold, you take a step back.

“Shit. Look, I’m not trying to be a total ass here. Just, I didn’t exactly go packing a lot of options and I can’t go wearing what I did yesterday because Josh saw it already - ”

“Got it.”

He sighs in defeat, grabbing hold of the shirt. Giving it a good flap, you can see the clear wrinkles on the front.

For a lazy day in, the shirt would be fine. But this was a family get-together and Jake Seresin was a naval officer. His closet was likely similar to your own when it came to precision-pressed and properly hung items. Wearing this shirt, the way it was, would not fly.

“Well, before you go complain to the front desk - give it here, and let me try something.”

His own brow rises but he ultimately hands it over by the scruff of the collar. Swiping up your toiletry bag, you head into the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to give him a small smile.

“Let’s see if the magic of steam can’t work a miracle on this.”

His features drop in a way that says he hadn’t even considered that as an option before he grins, “Here’s hoping.”

After hanging the shirt on the towel bar, you take an extra long and heated shower. Letting the water massage your back and shoulders with its pressure. You certainly missed the little things like this when you were aboard the carrier. Uninterrupted, hot, lengthy showers where you didn’t feel like it might be a biohazard to touch any surface.

No, this was nice.

And when you step out of the tub and wrap a towel around your middle, you crack the door open to inform Jake that his shirt is just about good to go.

“But I can hit it with the hair dryer still. We got time, right?”

He hums in reply from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him.

Turning on the exhaust fan, you wipe down the steam-covered mirror with a hand towel and go about finishing your routine. Making sure your feet are actually dry, you step back into the room - walking over to your bag in search of another outfit.

Jake had pushed aside the blackout curtains in your absence, filling the room with natural light. He’s sat on the edge of his bed again, but now he has a plain white tank on to go with his jeans. You can hear the faintest clearing of his throat, making you look back at him.

His gaze drifts down your back for a second before he seems to busy himself with his phone again.

“I’m guessing this one is a little more casual?” you ask, pulling out three different shirts.

“Mmm, yeah,” he clears his throat again with a cough, glancing over towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your shirt out in a minute. I’m just letting the steam work its last bit of magic on it.”

His eyes finally meet yours and he frowns slightly, “I wasn’t - y-yeah… okay.”

And then it seems to dawn on you: you were only wearing a towel.

And while it might be common for the guys of your squadron to walk around shirtless in the gym, or when they were changing out of sweaty flight gear, it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence for you to be seen in anything but your usual navy-issued tank and shorts. And while Hangman himself had been in nothing more than a towel yesterday morning, during the rush to get ready, that seemed like an entirely different situation to your own.

Your heart races as you become aware of just how exposed you are right now.

Grabbing hold of your entire bag and muttering out an embarrassed: “Sorry, I’ll just - ” as you hurriedly flee back into the bathroom.

Hangman, for his part, seems too stunned to even form a reply and you can’t exactly blame him.

Jesus, what were you thinking? You might be comfortable around your squadron but nothing over the past two days had elicited that level of comfort between the two of you.

Taking far longer than necessary to choose an outfit and get dressed, you’re slow and methodical about your hair and makeup this time too. Only when your nerves have settled down from the encounter, do you finally grab his shirt and return to the room.

“Well, what do you think?”

You hold the shirt up for him to examine. He nods, standing from his spot on the bed to take hold of it by the shoulders.

“Thank you.”

You just nod, tight-lipped, as you go about putting your bag away in its rightful spot. Jake tugs his arms through the sleeves before heading over to the full-length mirror by the front door. You watch as he methodically rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, creasing the cuff perfectly each time. When he’s done, he twists his watch around - back and forth, a few times.

And then he clears his throat, looking over towards you as you slip on your boots.

“You look good, by the way.”

Slowly, your eyes meet his and you offer him a gentle smile.

“Not too shabby yourself, Bagman.”

He ducks his head down for a second, grinning all the same. But then he’s glancing down at his watch and frowning again, patting his front and back pockets as he checks his EDC.

“You ready to go?”

Rising from the desk chair, you fix him with a questioning look, “Are you?”

With a smirk, he shakes his head. Offering an honest, “No.”

Jake holds the door open for you as you leave the room, heading down to the stairwell. You make an off-hand comment about it not being the way to the free dine-in breakfast. But he just keeps walking and eventually, you're in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger side of the rental car, you watch as he adjusts the rearview mirror and his own seat.

Before he even starts the ignition, he looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Well, someone wouldn’t let us go down to the lobby for breakfast.”

“Ha,” he chuckles. “Come on, I know a better place.”

Raising your brow as you buckle your seatbelt you say, “I’m intrigued.”

Hangman just grins, grabbing hold of the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.

You're not sure what you expected, but when Jake pulls into a busy Sunoco gas station ten minutes later, you can't help but raise your brow skeptically at him.

“Trust me,” he grins - all teeth - as he snags his aviators from his shirt collar.

“Tell me they have the best donuts around at least,” you call, following him out of the car.

He had parked off to the side, away from the entrance of the food mart. Digging his hands into his jean pockets, he waits for you to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the hood of the rental car.

Grinning with all the smugness of a higher power, he nudges your arm with his elbow and leads the way. Avoiding the building entirely, which makes you even more curious. The two of you round the other side of the gas station where the smell of smoked meat and spice fills the air.

There are two food trucks, a yellow tear-drop-shaped repurposed camper, and a smaller red build. Each has its own canvas tent with tables and chairs set up underneath. Fancy chalkboard signs bring the promise of amazing food as do the long-stretched lines outside of them both.

“Okay,” you admit, “You had me concerned for a second there.”

He chuckles, getting into the yellow truck's line, “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart. Anyway, I wanted to give you the chance of having an Austin staple.”

Well, if the menu wasn't enticing enough for you, then the smell certainly was. You find yourself nearly floating along the line with Jake. After ordering, you grab an empty picnic table to yourselves and proceed to dig into the absolutely massive breakfast burritos.

“Have you eaten here before?” you ask after swallowing another absolutely sinful bite.

“No, actually,” he wipes his mouth with another napkin. “This place didn't exist until two years back. Found it online when you were, uh, getting ready.”

Your chest aches as you recall the awkward encounter from this morning. Slowing your chewing, you manage out a pinched, "Well, god bless online reviews. This is incredible."

After another bite, you rub your lips with the back of your hand, glancing across to meet his gaze - his sunglasses remain folded on the table now, so you're able to see the green of his eyes once again.

“I mean it,” you swallow. “This might be the best breakfast I've ever had.”

He stares for a moment, swallowing his own bite before a slow smile graces his lips.

“Better not let your momma hear you talking like that.”

You laugh, “I'm sure she'd understand.”

Jake gives a warm chuckle, shaking his head, “Hell, think you know more about my family than I do about yours at this point. Not even sure I can remember you ever talking about them.”

Setting the burrito down carefully in the foil wrapper, you contemplate his small accusation. While you had certainly heard your fill of just about everyone else’s families while on deployment, you can’t recall if you really ever dove into talking about your own.

Obviously, you had heard all about Jake’s very extended family at this point. But even you knew about Freud and his weird association with his mom’s current husband - her fifth husband if you were remembering things correctly. Cosmo had a close relationship with his sister Cecilia but not his sister Lucia. Slab had a complicated connection with his adoptive parents but got on okay with his older brother. And so on.

“They’re not very interesting,” you finally settle on.

He raises a single eyebrow, “I highly doubt that.”

“Compared to yours?”

That makes him smirk, “Fair point.”

From there, it takes you a little longer to realize that you’re both eating at a leisurely pace and that Jake isn’t constantly checking his watch or telling you to speed it up. It’s a strange occurrence, given his usual attentiveness for being timely. Jake Seresin lived by the motto that if you’re early, you’re on time and if you’re on time, you’re late.

So, as nearly a full hour of the two of you sitting there and shooting the shit passes, you start to grow the slightest bit concerned. Going on to ask:

“How far did you say your dad’s place was?”

His lips immediately fall into a sort of scowl as you pull him away from a very amusing story about his time in officer’s school.

“Two hours,” comes the almost robotic reply.

“Does that mean we should start, you know, heading out?”

Your breakfast had long since been finished and the wrappers thrown away. Your drinks were little more than melted ice and semi-chewed straws at this point.

After ruffling his hair and twisting his watch around a few times, he finally sighs.

“Yeah, probably.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you slap his shoulder as you finally stand up from the picnic table.

“Come on, Seresin. You got me as your wingman for a second round today. No time like the present.”

Grabbing hold of both of your near-empty drinks, he too lifts his leg over the side of the bench and stands up with a playfully annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now, Pits.”

The ride to his dad’s house is filled with Christmas music played by two different country radio stations. As the odometer slowly creeps up mile by mile, you can see the difference in your companion’s composure. He started out relaxed, almost lounging in his seat. And then it grows more rigid; with his hands clutching the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.

Last night, the two of you had talked about the upcoming shitstorm of a holiday get-together.

You knew Josh would be there again. But you would also be meeting his other brother, Justin, and his wife and kids of course. And then there was his sister, Jess, and her brood - as he had put it.

Just from the way he talked about his siblings, it was clear that Jake did not get on with - nor keep in close contact with - any of them. He seemed particularly hung up on his sister more so than his older brothers. And while you were sure there was a story - or two - there, you didn’t feel it was the time, or place,to pry.

And then, of course, there was the infamous Mr. Seresin himself. Of him, you knew the least amount of information. Only being told that you should keep your conversations limited if not just nonexistent. You weren’t sure how well that idea would apply in reality, but for your friend’s sake, you promised to keep things to his plan.

As the radio DJ announces yet another Thomas Rhett song, Jake finally hops onto an exit ramp, signaling that you were close to the inevitable get-together.

In almost two hours, you had covered a variety of topics pertaining to work. But seeing the great amount of tension currently attacking your wingman, you finally relent with a different story.

“I got my pilot’s license at seventeen.”

Only because you’re at a stoplight does Jake look over at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar as the beginnings of a smirk curl into place.

“Do tell.”

You chuckle as he turns the wheel.

“Whole line of aviators, actually. Great-grandpa was a paratrooper during Korea and I guess he just missed the adrenaline when he came back to the States. His son took up commercial flying and my dad got his license just because it seemed like everyone else in the family was doing it.”

“And you?” his sage green eyes meet yours for a quick second before he focuses back on the road ahead of you.

With a shrug, you draw your knee up on the seat and stare out the passenger window. Swatches of dusty farmland and wooden fences pass you by.

“Guess I was always just growing up around them. My grandpa took me flying all the time when my dad was busy working. Did my first solo ride at fifteen in a glider and got my license two years later.”

You can see his grin from out of your peripheral and count it as a victory.

“Any other incredible talents you’ve kept hidden under that smartass exterior?”

“Hey!” you gently slap his arm, pulling a fake pout. “If there was, I’m not telling you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he bites his lip, tapping the steering wheel as a sense of ease washes over him. “I’ll play nice.”

With a roll of your eyes, you mutter under your breath, “Fat fucking chance.”

There’s a seemingly dramatic sigh from him which is immediately followed by a hand being jabbed into your flank and a screech of laughter erupting from your lips as Jake proceeds to tickle your side.

“G-god fuckin- STOP, y-you asshole,” you try to squirm away from his touch, but his fingers seem to know your exact weak points and there’s only so far you can scramble away.

“Give it up, Pita,” he croons sweetly, still somehow managing to drive the car steadily down the road with his left hand.

“Mercy! Mer-cy, you jackass!”

You shove at his hand until he finally relents. Absolutely beaming as he looks over at you, unable to stop his own chuckle from seeing the state of you. He sighs, the bubble of laughter on his lips as he turns down a dirt road.

“Sure know how to distract a guy.”

With a huff of indignation, you say, “I’m sure there’s more alluring ways to do that.”

Only when Jake chokes on his own spit do you throw your head back in a howl of laughter.

“Christ, the look on your face, Seresin.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, catching your gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Cause we’re almost there.”

That does seem to sober you both up almost instantly.

The radio sways in and out between bits of static break-up. As the houses fall further and further back from the road, it seems like you’re looking at nothing but straight-up copper-dusted fields.

Hangman leans forward on the wheel as he peers out at the stretch of dirt road, checking the numbers on the mailboxes that pop up every mile. And then, at last, he finally slows the car down to a steady roll.

And while Lady A is singing about it being an absolutely Wonderful Christmastime, you watch as all signs of joy seem to drain from your friend’s face as he turns onto the long-winding drive of his father’s ranch. The tires kick up dirt and pebbles, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You’re jostled in your seat from the rough terrain of the unpaved driveway.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” he murmurs, staring up ahead at the trucks already parked next to the white barn.

The house itself is a massive ranch-style home, with wood siding that almost makes it look like an older cabin. But the windows are clearly modern and sleek. It was no question at all that Jake’s father had some serious money to his name here. If the accompanying acres of farmland weren’t already a dead giveaway.

You wait for him to park, killing the ignition and resting his arms on the steering wheel with a resigned look in place of his usually bright eyes.

“When, uh, when was the last time you were here?”

With a sigh, his chin resting on the wheel now too as he stares up at the sprawling house.

“All the time as a kid. It was my granddad’s. Went on to my uncle until he ran himself straight into debt from all the gambling and drinking. Then this one - ” he jerks his head in the general direction of the house once again, “ - got it passed onto him. Haven’t been back since my granddad passed. So maybe… fourteen years?”

With a singular blink, you mutter an equally pressed, “Jesus, Seresin.”

“Yeah, well…” he just shakes his head, having already given you the gist of everything last night. No point in rehashing old news.

“Looks like everyone is here,” you comment after glancing around at the other numerous vehicles in the drive.

He nods, finally pulling the keys from the ignition and swinging the chain into his hand.

You follow him up the path to the front porch – a once beautiful piece of craftsmanship now deteriorating and stained. The floorboards of the deck squeak under your shoes and a handful of the railings seem to be either broken-off or missing entirely. A black bear carved out of wood greets you both with a simple welcome sign held in its fur-textured paws.

Jake gives a solid rap to the door before he grabs hold of the handle and shoves it open. More of a courtesy knock than anything.

With a little squeeze to his bicep, you give him your best encouraging nod and follow after him as he slides through the entryway where a massive pile of boots and shoes has been deposited.

You’re only afforded a sliver of a proper view into the main living space, but the noise level is already on par with an F18 ready to take off from the flight deck.

As you kick off your shoes into the sprawling mess of footwear, you’re assaulted by the sound of screaming children, raucous cheers, a football announcer blasting through surround-sound speakers, and the faint twang of Christmas music radiating out from a speaker somewhere in the middle of it all.

Mixed with the pungent smell of sweat-soaked shoes and rosemary-scented turkey roasting in an oven, you reach out to grab hold of Jake’s arm – simply from the overwhelming amount of things happening all around you before you even see a single person.

“You good?” he murmurs, a shocking amount of concern etched onto his usually playful features.

“Mhmm,” you manage.

A warm hand eases its way onto the small of your back and you feel the madness fall into a pinpoint tunnel where it’s easily manageable and not so disconcerting.

“Never better,” said through a set of clenched teeth is all you can work up for him.

With another squeeze to his arm, you allow Jake to guide you – by the hand still on your lower back – down the front hall to the large open-plan living space. To your left, several women lean against the russet-colored cabinets, with glasses of dark red wine in hand and ringing laughs as short blonde-haired children weave their way through the space.

To the right, near the stone fireplace sits the majority of the men on overstuffed leather couches and recliners as they stare up, with rapt attention, at the game currently projected on the large flat screen mounted above the mantel.

“Uncle Jake!”

Your eyes lock onto the blur of yellow and red that comes charging toward you both. Stepping out of the fray, you watch as your companion drops to his knees to scoop up the girl with the maroon ribbons laced through her platinum hair.

“Kenna Kenna Kenna,” he grins, grabbing hold of the young girl around her waist as he hefts her up and swings her back and forth in his embrace.

A smile that you can’t seem to control graces your lips as you watch the scene play out.

Oh, the guys back on the carrier would kill to see this side of Hangman right now. What a privilege it was for you to bear witness to.

From over his shoulder, you’re presented with the curious brown eyes of the girl who then jabs her hand against Jake’s chest and demands:

“Who’s that?”

You watch as your companion’s grin slips down for just a brief second before he forces a tight smile.

“That,” comes the familiar voice of the older Seresin brother, who rises from one of the leather recliners with a beer in hand, and a too-smug smile on his face. “Is Uncle Jackie’s girlfriend.”

The girl gasps, staring up at Jake with a pure look of wonderment, “You have a girlfriend?”

Out of instinct alone, you wrap a hand around his right arm – encouraging the act from him.

“I do,” he nods at last, glancing over at you with those piercing green eyes. And then he’s laughing, dropping the girl back down onto her feet as he says, “God, when’d you get so big?”

“Probably sometime between your last visit and now.”

Your gaze snaps over to the woman in a denim blouse in the kitchen area, swirling her wine before she finishes it off.

If you had to take a guess...

“Jess,” he greets, short and to the point with a curt nod of his head.

Bingo.

As the girl, Kenna, skirts off to join the other kids currently hanging back by the patio doors near the massive Christmas tree, another man wanders over. Similar to Josh and Jake, he’s got dimpled cheeks, darker blonde hair, and a distinctive swagger to his walk.

“Hey man,” he claps Hangman on the shoulder, presenting him with a bottle of beer in his other hand. “Long time no fucking see. Look good though.”

Jake takes hold of the drink before he slinks his arm back around your waist, guiding you forward and into his side.

“Justin,” he nods, half in greeting, and half in explanation for your current confusion.

Ah, brother number two.

“And you’re the mysterious girlfriend,” his eyes slip past his brother to land firmly upon your face.

You offer your hand in return, along with your name.

“Never thought we’d see the day,” he grins in return. And then he’s backing away, gesturing toward the fridge, “Something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke?”

Surrounded by so many people who all seem to be particularly interested in scrutinizing your every move, you merely shake your head, “Think I’m good for now, thanks.”

Jake squeezes your side and you look to your left to see him already staring down at you with a soft smile. Emboldened by his apparent approval, you begin to make your rounds with him never far from reach.

You’re introduced, quickly, to Gwen. His bubbly stepmother with dark roots and straw-colored hair who hands you a glass of wine without taking no for an answer. She’s brightness personified and the definition of a doting host. Beside her stands a rather quiet fixture in the kitchen.

Marissa is the curly-haired young wife of Justin Seresin. She watches on with a bottle held between her chipped-red nails as Jess hollers at Kenna from across the room when she tries to drop a handful of slime on her uncle’s head.

The woman remains silent, though she holds an amused smile, as she watches the madness of her inlaws take place. There’s a brood of children that moves and weaves through the adults who remain largely indifferent to their antics.

From the countertop, where an array of appetizers are laid out, you watch as the two seven-year-old twins – Dawson and Dixon – gulf down scoops and scoops of bean dip. While their sister - Brynlee, as Jake’s stepmother manages to tell you over the noise of the get-together – seems content to cling to Marissa’s pant leg as she stares up at the towering adults overhead.

Your nerves begin to ease as a sort of familiar feeling washes over you. If you convinced yourself hard enough, you could almost pretend this was one of your mom’s extended family reunions.

Sure, you weren’t well-acquainted with everyone yet. But if you forced a good smile and made an effort to be courteous, you were sure you could get through the ordeal without tarnishing your wingman’s reputation.

Slowly, Jake guides you through the room, until, at last, you’re sat on the armrest of one of the leather recliners, watching with distant interest as the announcers recount the last play in the game before halftime.

“So, you gonna introduce us properly?”

Your eyes shift toward the couch where you spot the gray-haired tresses and stern sun-baked face of Daniel Seresin. Your companion, who had been standing off to the side of the living room speaking in quiet conversation with his eldest brother, seems to straighten up to full attention as if an admiral had just entered the room.

With a twinge of discomfort, your gaze tracks Jake as he strides over to you, a hand resting on your shoulder when he finally comes to a stop. You can feel his breath on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

In a rigid tone bordering on inspection-line worthy, he introduces you by name and rank to his father.

A smile flits across the older man’s face as he beams up at you, rising from his lounged position on the couch to properly shake your hand. He looks the part of a typical rancher with his light-washed jeans and buttoned-down shirt tucked in with a flashy belt buckle.

“Real pleasure to meet you,” he grins. His hand is large, calloused by years of work. “I can’t tell you the last time Jake mentioned a girl catching his interest. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

You feel rather than hear the clipped mhmm that Jake gives in return. His gaze remains largely focused on the wall behind his father where an array of framed family photos resides. Never affording the man with the respect of holding his gaze.

Daniel claps your shoulder warmly and invites you to sit down with promises of their dinner being a real feast.

“She’s a saint, Gwen,” he tells you as you resume your position on the side of the armrest.

Jake, pointedly, slouches down in the actual recliner, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle as he stares – unseeing – at the TV.

“Hell, damn near blew myself up last year with the fryer. Don’t think she’ll let me in the kitchen, will ya, honey?”

He shouts the last part, to be heard over the crowd. Followed by a ringing you bet your ass I won’t coming from the vicinity of the stove.

You watch as Josh shakes his head in amusement, cradling a wriggly toddler in his arms. But your attention ultimately falls to the man seated to the side of you. Lost in his thoughts, trapped in his own head.

Reaching down with a tentative hand, you squeeze his fingers with your own.

It takes a minute, but then those welcomed meadow-green eyes meet your gaze and you can almost see the momentary relief that crosses his face as he squeezes your hand in return.

Dinner at the Seresin house is a decidedly casual affair in comparison to the meal you had shared with Patricia the day before. Gwen dishes out the seasonal fixings onto Christmas-themed heavy-duty disposable plates. Accompanied by wrapped bundles of plastic cutlery in Santa Claus paper napkins.

Balancing your plate on your lap is a true feat of talent as you’re the main entry and exit point to the kitchen, still settled on the armrest beside Jake.

The nieces and nephews, all eight of them, are situated on the floor on a big fleece blanket that quickly becomes an absorbent towel for their stray food bits more than anything else. Your hostess has the foresight to turn the game down to a more reasonable level, though the noise in the living room is still on par with a jet engine firing.

You find yourself shouting to be heard whenever anyone graces you with a question, which isn’t many... at first.

“ - anyway, after he pulled them over,” Jess continues her story about her husband, Nick: the Statetrooper. “He told them that he – god damnit! MacKenna Jaymes, are you or are you not watching your sister?”

Your attention, involuntary, falls to the oldest grandchild who has a mouth full of food as she stares helplessly at her younger sister who’s let her plate slip and spill all over the blanket.

“Fucking Christ,” Jake scoffs in heated breath, too quiet for anyone besides you to hear. His anger isn’t directed at his niece, of course, but at his sister.

Shoving his plate onto the other armrest, he peels himself up from the chair and crouches down to the oblivious toddler who has orange cheese sauce all around her lips – which he wipes clean with a napkin.

Jess, for her part, rolls her eyes and continues on with a biting tone about children needing to take care of their own messes. But Jake merely scoops up the girl’s food and settles the plate back down on the floor in front of her with a gentle ruffle of her sweet blonde locks.

You hold his plate for him when he returns to the chair, running a hand through his own hair.

“Thanks, honey,” he says in a cadence so natural it almost makes you drop his plate.

When he’s settled, you chance a look at him before you find your gaze trailing over to the far too smug brother seated on the chair adjacent to yours.

“See? This is the shit I was talking about last night,” he waggles a finger between the two of you as an example.

“Dad, do you remember when he brought over that girl? God, Jackie, what was her fuckin’ name?” Josh perks up, sitting on the edge of the cushion as he grabs his father’s attention, and, inadvertently, Jake’s as well.

“Oh, gosh,” Daniel starts, slapping his knee in thought as he stares up at the ceiling for the answer.

After a beat, you hear the soft utterance of, “Sarah.”

You glance down at Jake who keeps his head bowed under the weight of old memories.

Josh snaps his fingers, “That’s it! Fucking head cheerleader wrapped around his damn finger and did he even spare the girl a glance? I swear to God, he - ”

“Christ, can you knock it off with the swearing already?” Jess snaps.

The mischievous brother merely grins at you in a way that seems to say you see what I’m dealing with here?

“Must be all that growing up that’s got you so enamored.”

Settling your hand on Jake’s left shoulder, you give him a reasurring squeeze. You’d already dealt with his brother’s annoying antics and personality last night, what was a few more hours of unending torture under a familial microscope?

He lets out a long ragged breath, but you can feel his shoulders loosen marginally.

You almost miss the biting sound of the Seresin sister when she mutters, “Doubt it.”

But Jake doesn’t.

And he latches on to it like an enemy target on his radar system.

“Something you wanna say?”

The room falls to a stifling silence like the distant whistle of a falling shell about to make impact. You fear for the fallout from the impending crater.

She has the audacity to look aghast, a hand held to her heart in surprise as she manages to finish off her potato salad in one quick bite.

“Jacob. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all.”

“And yet you always manage,” comes his lightning-quick response.

“Well,” she drawls. “On a holy day like Christmas, I think you can find a way to keep your opinions sealed up.”

The other occupants watch the sparring of words like a tennis volley. But someone seems to have had enough.

“Oh, bless your heart dear!” Gwen says, standing quickly from her position on the couch beside her husband as she makes her way over to you. “You’re all out of casserole. Come on, now. Let’s get you fixed back up.”

Your chest tightens as you’re literally pulled to your feet by the determined woman, who quickly leads you into the depths of the kitchen. The words from the two siblings are still just as biting, but slowly the trickle of grandchildren also make their way into the kitchen.

Just another Christmas get-together for them as the grown-ups row.

As Gwen tops your plate to the point of sagging with more food, you watch MacKenna as she settles her younger sister on her hip while holding a hand on top of the toddler’s head.

“You’ve got your hands full,” you manage to say, hoping the smile you offer her isn’t tight with worry as the noise in the living room continues to grow.

The girl shrugs, as much as she can with a one-year-old in her arms. She tracks her siblings as they settle onto the hightop stools and begin to rummage through the lower cabinets.

Josh has his hands out as he tries to delegate between the bickering siblings, but Justin and Marissa just have the peace of mind to leave the scene altogether – also journeying over to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” the eldest brother says to you, leaning on the counter as he carefully pushes his twin sons away from the bowl of Chex mix. “They always get into it when they’re together. Has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can say in return.

“Here, hun,” his wife says to the nine-year-old struggling to hold onto her baby sister any longer. “Give your arms a break.”

With a handful of chips in his mouth, Justin points at his wife, “We’re not having another one.”

She nods congenially, patting the baby’s back with her hand, “I know that.”

Jess is on her feet now, pointing a dangerous finger at Jake, but you feel rooted to the spot because this was never a discussed topic of possible scenarios between the two of you back at the hotel.

“Abandoning your fucking family because you have goddamn daddy issues. Get the fuck over yourself, Jacob!”

For all the hostility his sister throws his way, your companion remains level and coolheaded as always.

He stares up at her with a perfectly blank face, “Can’t go one damn holiday without throwing a tantrum can you?”

Gwen coughs, pulling your attention away for just a moment as she all but shoves a platter of cookies in your face.

“Want one? Got more than the two of us can eat here. I made peanut butter, peppermint, pecan – ”

“ - and you think you can just show up here like it’s all water under the bridge and everything’s fine and dandy just because you have a girl on your arm? That doesn’t make up for the last decade of your shit.”

You take a step toward the living room, where even Josh has shrunken down onto the couch with his head between his hands. Daniel remains completely stock still as he watches the seemingly one-sided fight drag on.

“Just ‘cause you found the first broad to give you the time of day, doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and – ”

Before you can even register the words, Jake is on his feet.

Staring down at his sister with a heaving chest and balled fists.

You break away from the cluster of family members as you make your way to his side. Tentatively, you reach for his hand – easing his fingers away until you can entwine your hands together. His nostrils flare as words that have been building up since childhood begin to battle their way up to his lips, but it all comes to a halt when you murmur a gentle:

“Baby?”

With a slow turn of his head, he looks down at you – fight dissipating from his eyes as you squeeze his hand. Giving a gentle tug, Jake follows you over to the sliding doors of the back deck.

Behind you, you can hear Josh give an admonishing, “Never known when to close your massive fucking trap, do you?”

But you push aside the door and lead your wingman into the fresh afternoon air before you can hear her likely cutting response.

Having no real idea of the lay of the land, you pull him down the back steps and find yourself traversing a small pebble path around the back of the house. Jake, still in a state of silence, allows you to guide him forward without so much as a peep.

Near the back wooden cattle fence dividing the backyard from the actual farm property, you stop under the shade of a large tree. The billowing branches bring not only cool shade but a sense of privacy away from the prying eyes of the bickering family inside.

Releasing your grip on his hand, Jack takes a few unsteady steps forward before he drops down onto a faded old wooden porch swing. It creaks under his weight but seems sturdy enough as he eases his heels into the ground and pushes back and forth.

You stand there, staring out at the vast fields for a long long moment before you hear your name whispered into the breeze.

Turning back to your wingman, you take a seat beside him, your knees brushing as he continues to make the old swing sway.

Out here, if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re in the cockpit on a smooth return flight. The only noise comes from the gentle breeze drooping over the tall grass that bends like ripples in the water.

But your attention ultimately falls to your friend. With his knuckles gripped white on his knees, his head bowed down with his shoulders hunched high to protect him.

This version of Hangman would never be seen by your squadron, nor would it ever be mentioned.

With a steadying breath, your voice cracking as you force out the words, you say, “I have a soft spot for disco music.”

It takes a second for the words to register, but Jake slowly lifts his head and stares at you with pure confusion.

“What?”

“Disco. It’s my... thing? And I’m swearing you to fucking secrecy, Bagman. But... I belt out ABBA songs when I’m alone. Donna Summers too.”

The making of a grin begins to form on the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got it bad for the Bee Gees.”

His brow raises ever so slightly.

“Do those private serenades also include a dance number?”

With a bark of laughter, you tuck your hands between your knees as he rocks you further back on the wide swing.

“Oh, absolutely.”

When you look up, you find his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. But not in a harsh way. More like you were a puzzle he was just only now figuring out the missing pieces of.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Giving a shrug, you say, “Because I wanted to. Also, no one will ever believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence before his lips tug up into a radiant smile that has him shaking his head.

“God damnit, you’re right.”

You let your left shoulder bump into his right as his laughter slowly ebbs away to silence once again.

He spares the house a furrowed expression before he lets out a slow exhale of breath.

“This thing,” he starts, twisting his watch back and forth on his wrist. “Between me and Jess, it goes back years.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” you assure him with a soft utterance.

But he presses forward despite it.

“Josh and Justin were already out by the time things got bad. Just me and her in the house. Not that she paid much mind. She was ‘bout to graduate and I was just some snot-nosed ten-year-old.”

He eases into the swing, dipping his head back over the headrest to stare up at the swaying green leaves above the two of you. You find yourself turning to face him, pulling your left knee up onto the seat.

“Mom started drinking ‘round then after she found out he was fucking his bowling buddy. Had been, for the last two years or so. But Jess didn’t know that shit, just saw Mom passed out on the couch with an empty bottle on the floor.”

Jake shakes his head, pushing away the memory.

“They never said it to my face, but I know. I was the save the marriage baby.”

“Jake...”

Offering you a tight grimace, he continues.

“Spoiled as hell, got whatever I wanted and then some. Private school, the works. Brothers didn’t care much, but Jess...” he trails off.

Your hand settles onto his forearm, offering a squeeze of comfort when your own words fail you. He dips his chin in return, welcoming the touch of familiarity.

“That’s what I meant by it the other day. They sided with him and I went along with her because I found out what was really happening. Don’t get me wrong, Gwen’s a good lady and the two of them are better off divorced. But... put a wedge between me and the three of them.”

Clearing your throat, you ask, “Is that why you left to join up?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Couldn’t fucking stand to be around either of them by the time I graduated. Just wanted to start over, do something for myself on my own terms.”

And then he scrubs his palm over his face, wincing as he does so.

“Christ, I don’t know why I’m fucking telling you any of this.”

“I said you didn’t have to, you know,” you nudge him with a teasing tone.

With a look of pure exasperation, he holds his hands out like a confession, “Got me bleeding my heart out here like I’m Freeze or something, Pits.”

“Eh,” you sigh, twisting your body to pull up both of your legs onto the bench – only to deposit them both right across Jake’s lap with little fanfare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”

Something funny flits over his features for a moment before he places his hand over your calf and resumes his gentle rocking of the swing.

Eventually, you both manage to peel yourselves off the swing and wander back into the house. Jake says something about being completely okay with ditching the whole thing and heading back to the rental car. But you have to remind him that your shoes are still currently lost in the massive pile in the front entryway.

He then tries to convince you to leave them, going so far as to say he’ll buy you a new pair before your flight.

But, reluctant as he is, you walk hand-in-hand back into the house. You get lost in the excitement of the kids who want to open up all their presents right this very second and it seems like, for the moment at least, the fight has been put on hold to allow the true joy of Christmas to take place.

Though Jake and his sister remain on opposite sides of the room for the entire duration of the madness that is eight kids scrambling to unwrap their numerous presents the fastest.

While Justin plays the role of gift hander-outer, Jess lounges on a barstool in the kitchen, watching the mess play out with a stink eye. Jake, for all his hold-ups on the day, also drops to his knees to help the younger nieces unwrap their gifts.

Which leaves you, surprisingly, with a small bundle of drooling baby in your arms since her own mother would rather watch from afar than interact with her own children.

June is happy to suck on the left foot of her new stuffed buddy, lounging out in your lap as you rock the recliner back and forth. Jake shoots you several amused glances before he gets tugged into the decidedly un-fun realm of opening up all the plastic-wrapped toys for the kids.

The living room floor is heaped with wrapping paper and ribbons, loose twist ties, and chunks of cardboard and plastic molds by the time he returns to your side. This time, he’s the one resting on the armrest as he gently taps the snoozing baby’s foot with his fingers.

“Out like a light.”

“No better way to celebrate the day,” you agree.

The sleeping babe must be used to the chaos that is the Seresin family, as her siblings and cousins run amok with their new toys that beep and jingle. Tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floors as they zoom up and down the long hallway separating the living area from the rest of the house.

“Now that’s a picture if I’ve ever seen one.”

You lift your gaze to Gwen as she rounds the corner, a wine glass in hand as she settles in next to Daniel on the couch across from the three of you.

“Think you two will ever settle down stateside?” he asks with a true glimmer of hope in his graveled voice.

Jake winces, hand falling to your inner thigh for support.

“I, uhm, I could never ask Jake to put his career on hold for that,” you find yourself saying.

“Same for you,” he adds a second later.

Gwen, for her part, gives an understanding nod – settling a hand on her husband’s arm to stifle the topic down.

“How long have you two been flying together?”

Your wingman seeks out your gaze as the two of you mentally run through the tangle of memories.

“Three, almost four years now?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what set this all off, if you don’t mind me prying?”

Jake clears his throat, and you have to turn your head to hide the beginnings of laughter that bubble up to the surface. He shifts his weight, draping his right arm over the back of the chair, a finger playfully tugs at the fabric of your shirt.

“It was after a mission debrief. Fourteen hours, dead on our feet,” the story, completely fabricated, comes to him with a true sense of ease.

“And, I dunno. Everyone was shuffling outta the room and I just looked over and saw Pita and thought...”

At the pause, you turn your face to look up at him only to find his softened eyes seeking you out.

“Wow. I can’t have this girl out of my life.”

That piercing expression nearly takes your breath away and you want to applaud Jake for his terrific acting on the fly.

Pulling your gaze back to the seated couple, you add, in jest, “I’m sure my greasy hair and flight suit was what did it for him.”

“Hundred percent!” he grins, tugging a strand of your hair.

At some point, the others filter back into the room and Marissa kindly takes the snoozing June from you. You have to shake out your arms just to return the blood circulation. Who knew kids that little could be that heavy?

And while you get lost in the rushed conversation of two seven-year-olds trying to tell you all about the mechanical workings of their new RC cars, Daniel pushes up from the couch and weaves his way over to Jake, before saying something in his ear. You can feel the way he goes rigid as he slips his arm away from you and slowly stands and follows after his father.

You watch as the two men disappear down the hall, toward one of the bedrooms or office from the looks of it. A cold dredge of worry washes over you, cooling your insides and twisting your stomach into another uncomfortable slosh of concern. He had just started smiling again.

“He’s really got you bad, doesn’t he?”

Pulling your gaze away from the empty hall, you find the piercing eyes of Josh inspecting your face as he leans across his chair to speak to you.

“You. You’re worried about him.”

“Comes with the job,” you say.

A smirk tugs his lips into a twisted look as he too glances down the hallway.

“He’ll be fine. Little testy with whatever Dad’s about to try pulling. Won’t be too surprised if that’s the end of our little visit.”

Your brows pinch, “That bad?”

He chuckles, easing back into his recliner, “Always.”

You try to focus on the happy children occupied with their new toys and the soft lull of the TV sportscaster, but you find your primary focus pulled toward the long empty hallway.

He had told you all about the history between him and his old man, both in the backyard confessional an hour prior and the day you arrived in Austin. Yet now your mind was conjuring up worse and worse scenarios of what was happening in a closed-door room several feet away.

Another few minutes pass where you try your best to ignore what could be transpiring a few yards away, but the sound of a door opening followed by a pleading voice saying:

“Jacob, come on now. Jake. Jake.”

You crane your head just in time to see your companion striding down the hallway, directly toward you – pushing both Justin and Gwen gently out of his way. You’re on your feet by the time he reaches you and before you can even ask are you okay, he’s grabbing hold of your arm.

“Think we’re done here, sweetheart.”

Trying to get a read from his expression alone is useless, so you merely nod in return.

“Okay.”

As Jake directs you toward the entryway once again, with a trail of family members walking a few steps behind you both in silent anticipation, Daniel Seresin finally makes a reappearance.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he just shakes his head in return to his wife’s questioning look.

Hangman can’t seem to move fast enough, even as the nieces creep past you to get to him.

“Are you leaving now, Uncle Jake?”

“When am I gonna see you again?”

He’s halfway between tying his left boot when he looks up at the little faces curled with worry and childhood innocence. Frozen, unable to find the right words to explain his hasty escape as he peers up and over their heads at his father standing silently at the end of the hall.

“Oh, that’s my fault, I’m afraid,” you say, leaning down to grab your own boots as three braided-blonde heads turn to look up at you.

“We need to hurry to the airport to catch our flight, don’t we, honey?”

A flash of gratitude in his eyes and a slow exhale has Jake nodding, quick to play along to your tune.

“That’s right, sweetheart. We have to go see Pita’s family now. Wouldn’t be fair to keep her away on Christmas, yeah?”

Shelby clings to his leg, her face squished into his thigh as she murmurs, “But I’ll miss you.”

Jake shoots you a clear help me look, but your rescue comes in the shape of Josh Seresin who swoops in and collects the five-year-old up into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from Uncle Jackie soon. Won’t you?”

Your companion gives a fast nod, “That’s right, kiddo. Soon as we’re back on the carrier, I’m gonna call you right up.”

The little girl peers over her uncle’s shoulder and you meet her soft gaze.

“And Pita too?”

Jake almost laughs, but he curves it into a smile instead.

“Yeah, her too, honey.”

Oh, your breakup in a few weeks was gonna be fun to talk through with a kindergartner.

Pushing that thought from your head, you righten your boot into place and fall back into Jake’s easy embrace, his hand finding a too-familiar spot on your waist.

The drive back to the city is shared in silence with only the familiar Christmas tunes from the radio there to fill the void between you both. And even then, the holiday spirit has already seeped out of the vehicle and into the vast countryside. No amount of classic jingles could fix that at this point.

When you arrive back at the hotel, it’s as though you’re waiting for the missile to hit. That weapon of course being Jake himself.

But the man in question is as silent as ever as he drops down onto the edge of his bed. Too tired to even remove his boots as you carefully tread around him to take care of your own shoes.

His silence makes you even more cautious in your moves, tiptoeing across the carpet to your bag and back again. Afraid to make any noise that could set him off. Oh, you could handle the fallout, of course. You’re just not sure if he could at this point.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in your sleepwear, Jake is lying flat on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. His eyes open and staring, almost unseeing, at the popcorn ceiling.

After spending a moment to assess your situation, you unceremoniously flop down on the bed beside him, a hand plopping down on his right knee.

And there you sit, in the stillness of the hotel room for a series of long-passing minutes. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, curling your fingers tighter and then looser on his jean-clad knee. Until, at last, he speaks.

“Should have never did this to you.”

You wait until his eyes land on you before you respond.

“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.”

It takes a second, but he eases up onto his elbows.

“I’m serious. Yesterday with my mom was one thing. But this shit? Today? God,” he drags a hand down his face in annoyance.

Releasing a breath, you lay down beside him on the bed. He stares down at you for a long moment before he falls back down next to you.

“I told you, I don’t care. I agreed to this entire insane endeavor and I told you I was gonna see it through no matter what. So, lose the bullshit grief, and don’t worry about me.”

Tugging on the loose fabric of his seafoam-colored button-down, you give him the space to respond or not. Hell, you were gonna be the last person to try and press the man for anything right now.

“I just...” he exhales, resting a hand on his chest. “I dragged you across the country, away from your own damn family, just to do this.”

Rising up slightly so you can stare down at him, you retort, “Which I agreed to. If I didn’t want to do this for you, do you honestly think you could force me to do any of this? Honestly?”

Jake glances back at the ceiling before a smile graces his lips.

“Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you reply, dropping back down.

“Well... at least it’s over.”

You hum in response.

Come morning, you would take the rental car back to the airport and board separate flights. You up to Michigan and Jake back to California. You would enjoy a family-filled holiday and he would be...

Your stomach turns at the thought.

Alone.

After everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, after all that he was dragged through. Jake would be alone come Christmas day. Alone with his own damn thoughts and whatever reemerged trauma that came with this particular visit produced.

Maybe that’s why, after several more minutes have passed you both by, that you turn toward him and say:

“Do you... I don’t – well, that is to say, uhm...”

You can feel the look he gives you but you have to crane your neck back to properly look him in the eyes. There’s something there in the meadow green of his irises that emboldens you – allowing the words to come easily.

“Jake, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?”

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[lovedrruunk]

'Mango Letters ♡⸝⸝💌⊹˖➴

Venture (Overwatch) x GN Reader

[Established Relationship!]

Authors note!!!; DID U MISS MEEE??? also...IM SO SORRYYY!!!! BUT I THINK IM JUST GONNA START WRITING WHAT I WANT :((( i realized im sososo bad with requests like genuinely ughhhh!! Ill def do some every now and then tho! Anyways im just clearing out my drafts cuz I’ve come to the realization that this is literally tumblr and my posts don’t have to be perfect lmao, enjoy!!

75 days 18 hours 46 minutes and 3 seconds. That's how long it had been since you've seen your partner Sloan. Being with them you knew how devoted they were to their work and how much it required them to travel but on pretty days like this one when the weathers just right and the flowers are in full bloom and the sunset is the perfect hue of orange, you couldn't help but wish they were by your side.

And although they were thousands of miles away they always made sure to send you physical manifestations of their love.

Through love letters of course!!!

It had been a tradition ever since they had started going on longer expeditions for them to send you things in the mail. So there in your shared closet in a cute little shoebox on the top shelf, laid all their feelings on coffee stained papers. Little crystals the same color as your eyes, maps with all the places they wanted to take you, polaroids of them doing silly faces, and your favorite part, the sweet scent of mango that came with it all.

And so although they weren't by your side, their feelings were. Their longing, their excitement, their thoughts, all in the palm of your hands covered in all types stickers and doodles.

Sitting outside on the porch of your shared home enjoying the calm breeze you smile holding the most recent letter delivered. Inhaling deeply catching the hints of mango as you carefully open it.

Dear Beloved,

It's been so looong!!! I can feel myself aging without you! Hope this letter finds you well! Notice how I used "beloved"? Fancy huh? Arn't I just the most romantic partner ever? (don't answer that.) This is my fifth time trying to write this and it's annoying the crew so this is my last chance before they jump me... It's just so hard y'know!? It has to be perfect. Perfect for you. Is that cringe? That was cringe sorry! I miss you lots and I think about you all the time... You'd love Petra! A camel ate my shemagh... but It's whatever. I'll buy a new one tomorrow, I'll get one for you too so don't worry! Now that I'm thinking about it the days seem to be going by pretty slow and I'm not sure if I like it much. Like I said I miss you a lot and it stinks being away from you for this long. Can't you just book a flight over here? Can't you do that for me pretty pleaseee? That's ridiculous? Okay just say you hate me and never want me to come back, just say you don't love me at all and want me to get stuck in a cave foreva. Just kidding! or am I?... (I am! >ᴗ<)

I like to imagine you’re missing me really bad counting down the seconds till I get back, which by the way I am too so don’t feel the need to deny it! I can see it now… You all shriveled up like a raisin crawling on the floor going “sloannn… sloannnn…” because of how bad you miss me hehe. Just kidding again! It’s probably the opposite let’s be real… I’m going insane without you seriously, I started talking to the hieroglyphics yesterday and the crew even caught me tasting some rocks earlier (sos!!!!)

But speaking of, they’re rushing me to “turn the lights off already” what a bunch of buzzkills ammarite? Promise to show up in my dreams okay? Who am I kidding, you’re always there regardless. Sweet dreams ᥫ᭡ᥫ᭡

p.s they really wanna meet you!

p.p.s take care okay? I’ll be home before you know it!!!

Yours truly,

(so romantic!!!)

“(๑´>᎑<)~*”

[soberrsoon]

HEY POOKIE BEAR i love ur writing sm ur acc one of my fav accounts 😋😋

anyways i was wondering if you wld write smth where the reader is the guitarist of a well known band (like tom knows who she is) and is kinda like a female ver of tom, like she has the same kind of personality and she’s known for being flirty and a bit of a player and tom has like a fat crush on her bc he thinks that’s so hot 😋 and then he meets her at some point and he’s kinda shocked by how confident she is like she’s not stuttering and shi like other girls he talks to 🤭 anyways then she plays hard to get for a while but it ends in them being together??

T. KAULITZ x READER

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you never gave your heart to anyways, not until you met a cocky guitarist

★ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of alcohol, swearing, cigarettes

★ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omgee pookie thx xoxo 😘 anywayssss i had like 1 brain cell writing this and it’s been sitting in my drafts for weeks so yay i’m finally posting this.

you loved the thrill of concerts and being on tour, new man in bed every night, lots of alcohol and dozens of phone numbers being passed around. you could never be contained and you were proud of that fact. being invited to parties was easy since you were in a band, even clubs would let you in with no ID. some would disapprove of your lifestyle but you didn’t care cuz fuck them right? you didn’t care for much, not boys, school, or a anything. you only cared for guitar, it was your passion, your dream. you loved being in a band too but would slack rehearsals sometimes, not without being scolded by lilli though.

“late again,” she said. “hungover, don’t talk,” you said walking past her. you went to a party yesterday and went a little too crazy on the drinks. “there are consequences to your actions ______, stop drinking so much,” said malik, the drummer. “whatever, mom,” you said picking up your guitar. you hated to admit it but you did have a drinking problem, you just couldn’t stop after one you know? you went to go stand by the bassist mery, she was your best friend and the only one that understood you. “anyways, let’s get started,” said lilli. you guys started rehearsal and it went pretty well. you guys all gathered at the end since lilli had some announcements. “we’re finally starting our europe tour!” she enthusiastically announced. “woohoo,” you said sarcastically. she rolled her eyes and turned to the others for questions. “where are we going in europe?” asked mery.

“i only remember the manager saying something about germany,” she said. “when are we starting?” you asked. “next month! we have little time to prepare so i expect you all to show up to rehearsals,” she said looking right at you. “anyways, i hear we’re popular in germany so you guys better put on a show!” said lilli. ignoring her comment, you walked outside and lit a cigarette waiting for the others to finish packing up.

you lit a cigarette outside of the studio as you waited for the others to finish packing up. “ready to go?” asked malik. “yup. wanna go somewhere tonight?” you asked as you caught up with the others. “not sure, the club?” suggested mery as you guys buckled up in the van. “shots on me then,” said lilli. clubbing was your favorite thing to do, second to touring. this was how you met your hookups and one night stands. you loved with the others to minimize housing expenses, it sounded fun at first but now you barely tolerate it.

the fun part of it though is that you can always borrow clothes from lilli or mery. lilli had the cutest, sluttiest clothes ever. you tried on some of her clothes when you got home to plan your outfit. “hey,” lilli said as she walked in. “what’s up?” you asked. “nothing much, just a little tired,” she said, plopping on the bed. “hope i meet someone tonight,” she said. “me too,” you added. you liked the thought of boys but not the thought of dating them, you could never settle into a relationship so one night stands were your best friend.

you decided on a tank top with a mini skirt and you went to go get changed. soon enough it you all finished getting ready and left for the club. you went on like you usually would at a club; party hard, fuck boys, and drink lots. after the night of fun you sat down on the couch and looked up at the tv. it showed an interview of another band that you’ve never heard of. they looked like a bunch of loser teens in your mind but one caught your eye, the one with black hair. he wasn’t exactly your type but you loved his style.

you eventually forgot about that night one might later and you guys were on your way to germany to start the tour. you were excited to meet the fans and the boys. your first stop was the hotel to drop stuff off and get settled in before leaving to tour the venue and get used to the surroundings. you fell on the hotel bed and let out a sigh of relief. “i needed this,” you said to mery whom you shared a room with. “i heard there’s a hot all boy band that going to be at the venue,” she said. “said who?” you asked sitting up, amused by the keyword “hot.”

“i watch the news,” mery replied. “lame,” you said sitting back down. “apparently they’re very hot here, i hope we see them,” she said. “if they’re got then i hope we see them too,” you said yawning before lilli walked into the room. “we have to go soon,” she said. “shit i like garbage right now,” you said before getting up to get changed into something a little more appealing. you slipped into jeans and put on a sequined tanktop before grabbing your heels. “ready,” you said. you guys all got on the bus to the venue and you were anticipating meeting this band mery spoke of. when you got there, many other artists were there already, all waiting for a tour.

mery tapped your shoulder and pointed to a group of boys that looked oddly familiar. “that’s the hot band!” she exclaimed. you turned around and you immediately recognized them, it was the band from that tv interview at the club. “hey i know them, i saw them on tv,” you said to mery. “aren’t they so handsome?” she asked. “a little i guess, they look a bit young though,” you mentioned. “actually we’re about the same age as them,” mery said. “nerd,” you said before petting her head, messing up her hair.

you walked off to go stand in line for the tour with the other artists but you didn’t notice a certain someone noticing you. the line took hours since so many other artists were there but eventually the tour concluded. you realized your band and the other band that mery was talking about were the only bands there that would be performing. you ran back to the van hoping to get back to the hotel room quickly since you were tired, with the others following behind but someone interrupted you.

he walked up to you and introduced himself. “hey, i’m tom,” he said. you were tired and not in the mood to talk to anyone but you tried to be polite since you didn’t want the tabloids to start drama. “nice to meet you, tom,” you said looking at the boy who was surprisingly attractive. “i’m a big fan of your band,” he said. you could tell he wanted to fuck by his expression, i mean what else could he want? “oh really? i’ve heard about you a little too,” you said. he was practically creaming his pants when you said that, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “do you want to hang out on the tour bus?” he asked.

“thanks but no thanks, my bands a little busy. see you though i guess,” and with that you left. he looked confused at your rejection, like he couldn’t understand how a girl could reject a boy like him. you walked back to the van and mery was practically dying yo ask you questions. “did he just talk to you??” she asked. “yeah what about it?” you replied. “well i guess nothing but you’re not even gonna ask for his number or something? i thought you liked picking up boys especially since he’s exactly your type,” she said. “i’m just really tired right now,” you said yawning.

“oh,” said mery. the car ride back to the hotel room was silent and you almost fell asleep a little on the car. the next day you got ready to explore the city a little before heading to the venue to get ready to perform. you did sound checks and got changed into your stage outfit before meeting the others back stage. you messed around with your guitar a little before you heard backstage staff talking into their wally talkies. “alright tokio hotel is next, get them ready,” they said. malik signaled you guys to start walking on stage and as you did you saw thousands of fans and the venue was completely filled out.

you were so happy and your adrenaline started pumping as the first song started. you got really into it as you strummed your guitar and sang along, getting wild as you usually do. you walked downstairs into the crowd and did crowd surfs, blowing kisses at the audience and doing the “call me” hand signal as well. by the end of the concert your shirt was off and your hair was an mess with your makeup slightly smudged. you said said goodbye to the crowd, giving one last flirtatious smile before walking backstage.

you saw that tokio hotel was already standing there waiting for their set to start. “you’re welcome for the free concert,” you said winking at them as you guys walked by. “leave them alone,” lilli said, laughing and rolling her eyes. you had a little energy left so you walked into the crowd hoping to get a hookup. you saw a guy around your age and walked up to him. “hey, what’s your name?” you asked. “joel,” he smirked. one thing led to another and you ended up making out with him in his truck, although it was dangerous you still enjoyed it. your cell rang and it was mery calling you back to meet with the others.

you left without saying anything to him but not before grabbing a few drinks. you saw mery and ran up to her, she was in the crowd. you offered her a drink which she happily accepted and by the end of tokio hotels set you were both drunk. you were half awake now and wanted to go back to the room. “lilli can we get back to the hotel? i’m tired,” you whined. “yeah sure let me go get malik he’s by the bathroom we’ll meet you by the van,” she said. you and mery walked back to the van and it started getting quiet the farther you got away from stage. you waited by the van for lilli and malik until a familiar face appeared, it was tokio hotel.

“hey, good job tonight guys,” one of the members said. it was the one with black hair, the one that caught your eye first. “oh thanks you guys did good too,” you said. “you were off with some dude half of it,” mery said laughing. you told her to shush as you laughed, their faces were priceless. tom, the one that tried to flirt with you looked jealous? you brushed it off once you saw lilli and malik. “oh we gotta go now,” you said. “wait, do you guys want to go somewhere?” tom asked. gosh this boy was restless you though. “go where?” asked lilli. “you guys can come to our room,” said the black haired one.

you all looked at each other, “why not?” malik said. “alright then uhm let me call our manager and tell her we’ll be gone then,” said lilli. so you guys all got into tokio hotels van and headed for their room. you got sat next to tom whom was still trying to flirt and you decided to entertain him a little. “your guitar playing is amazing,” he said. “you’re not too bad yourself,” you replied. you guys went back and forth like that before you reached their hotel. you immediately went out on the balcony for a cigarette and tom followed.

“i’m surprised, usually girls stutter or get flustered when talking to me,” he said. you were confused as to why he brought that up but at the same time too drunk to care. “well i guess i’m not one of your fangirls,” you replied. it was silent for a bit before you said something. “you said you’ve seen my band around before right?” you asked. “yeah i really am a fan. i always thought you were hot, i was really excited to meet you,” he said. “well am i what you thought i’d be?” you asked. “not at all,” he replied. “you’re funny,” you said, winking at him. you headed inside first and introduced yourself to the others.

after introductions, you found out that the black haired one was bill, the singer, the drummer was gustav, and bassist was georg. you sat down next to mery and the room was silent until georg said something. “so you and tom huh?” he asked. “what about him?” you replied. “do you two like each other?” he asked. “i don’t ‘like’ boys, i fuck them,” you said. “she’s like the female version of tom,” bill said laughing. “what does that mean?” asked lilli. “tom’s just like her, flirty and sort of a player,” said gustav. “that makes sense, you finally found your match,” said malik.

the others laughed before tom walked in. “what’s so funny?” he asked. “nothing, we were just talking about how you and ______ were so similar,” said bill. he looked at you and smirked before taking a seat next to you. “want to take some shots?” asked bill reaching for a bottle of vodka. “sure but how’d you sneak alcohol in the hotel?” you asked. “don’t worry about it,” he said.

you guys took the shots and soon enough you were all drunk. but since you and mery had already gotten drinks the two of you blacked out. you don’t remember much except for someone carrying you to the bed and the lights turning off.

you woke up the next day, not knowing where you were. you saw lilli and malik on the floor and mery sleeping next to gustav. tom was laying next to you with bill next to him while georg slept on the sofa. the bed was crammed so you got off to wake the others up. you walked over to lilli first. “lilli help me wake the others,” you said. “what time is it?” she asked. “it’s like eleven AM,” you said. “oh shit, we were supposed to meet our manager at nine,” she said.

she started panicking which led you to panic so you two were just freaking out which woke the others. “what’s wrong?” asked mery, waking up. “we were supposed to meet our manager at nine, it’s eleven,” she said shaking malik. you were fighting a massive hangover and lillie’s panic wasn’t helping. soon enough tokio hotel woke up and you guys were already at the door. “leaving already?” asked tom. “we’re late to meeting our manager,” you said. “shit,” said georg. “uh see you guys around i guess?” said mery as you guys ran out the door.

lilli had ten miss calls from the manager and dozens of angry texts. you guys got into a lot of trouble, which you took the blame for. you guys went back to the hotel room and you flung yourself on the bed. “ugh fuck this,” you said. “what’s wrong?” asked mery. “this hangover, i feel like i’m dying,” you replied. “i bet calling your boyfriend tom will make you feel better,” she said teasing you. the others started laughing while you just rolled your eyes. “seriously though you guys are perfect for each other,” added lilli. “whatever,” you said.

“speaking of them i happened to get gustavs number last night, maybe we should meet with them tonight~~,” said mery. “well i am bored, maybe the club?” malik suggested. “you read my mind, call him mery,” said lilli. you sat by the side pretending not to be interested because deep down you knew you were starting to find tom attractive and you knew where this would go. he would break your heart or you would breaks his and he would leave, just like the others.

mery called the gustav anyways and it was settled, your band and tom’s band were going out tonight. your manager basically grounded you guys so obviously you couldn’t go out… which wasn’t going to stop you. i mean you guys never listen to your manager hence last night. you felt and looked like garbage so you quickly hoped in the shower before going shopping in town. you went by yourself since the others were too busy doing their own thing, but you didn’t mind since you liked your own company.

hours later you got a call from mery asking you to go back since everyone was getting ready. you meet them back in the room and get ready as well, putting on one the dresses you bought while in town. “did you buy that dress just for tom?” asked lilli in a teasing tone. “no i bought it for you dad,” you replied sticking your tongue at at her. malik and mery laughed as you put your heels on. thirty minutes later you guys all left and met with tokio hotel and there tom was, looking nonchalant but in a hot way as usual. you look away from him to scout out the boys in the club that could help take your mind off things.

you spotted a very cute boy with curly brown hair dancing by himself. you walked up to him, completely separating from the others. “hey i’m ______, what’s your name?” you asked him. “it’s skylar,” he said. “let’s dance,” you said as you started grinding against him. he was into and you even got your mind off tom before you walked over to the bathroom. you guys are out a few moments later, your hair messy and his shirt half buttoned. you blew him a kiss as you walked over to the others who were now sitting on a sofa.

“wow we’ve only just gotten here and you’ve already hooked up with a dude ______ that’s a new record,” said malik. “who keeps track anymore?” you asked him. you took a seat next to mery and tom, right in the middle. tom was visibly staring at you and you were confused until you realized you were wearing a very booby top. “perv,” you whispered over to him. he quickly looked away which made you laugh a little. mery left and decided to go on the dance floor with gustav and bill following while lilli and malik went to the bar to gets drinks leaving you and tom.

“so why don’t you date?” he asked. “same reason as you probably, i don’t believe in love after one night,” you said. “wow, we really are similar,” he said. “you think?” you said. “why don’t we date then?” he asked. “because i’ll break your heart,” you replied. “maybe i’ll break yours,” he said. “nobody breaks my heart,” you replied, chuckling. he gave you a dry laugh and looked away before malik and lilli came back with drinks. you and tom both got super intoxicated that night and one thing left to another and you two ended in a hotel room together. the two of you laid on the bed as you lit a cigarette. “do you hate me?” he asked. “what do you mean?” you were confused. “i mean, you’re not head over heels for me, you don’t stutter or fumble your words at all when we speak and you don’t want to date me, i don’t understand why you would act like that unless you hate me,” he explained. “i don’t hate you, in fact i think i’m in love with you,” you drunkenly admitted.

“you do?” he asked, shocked. “i think. i mean you’re exactly my type and we’re basically the same person so i guess i do,” you said. you were slightly conscious of what you had just confessed to tom and you had no regrets, holding it in was killing you slowly. tom reached for you cigarette and you guys shared it until you put it out. you fell asleep and the next morning you woke up in tom’s arms. he was completely wrapped around you and you had no memory of the night before.

“morning,” he said groggily with his morning voice. “did we…?” you asked, scrounging up as much of last night as you could. “yeah, and you also confessed you love for me,” he said laughing. “oh god, did i?” you asked. “don’t tell me you didn’t mean it,” he said. “unfortunately i did and you’re not going to let me live it down will you?” you asked. “of course not,” he said smiling. you reached over for your phone to missed calls and texts messages from lilli. “i guess we should get back to our hotels,” you said before getting up to put your clothes on. “not before i do this,” tom said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back to bed before kissing you. “i hate you,” you said digging your face into his chest.

[oh-snapperss]

so indebted to you for cuteguy etho god bless

just for u.... i give u the accidental beginning of a cute guy fic in my drafts. it's pure crack and unedited btw

words: 1169

warnings: none

has like one line of implied shipping lol

“Etho, Etho!” Bdubs waves frantically, as if the two were greeting each other after a long few weeks apart, rather than a single day. 

“Oh, hey Bdubs!” Etho walks over, barely noticing when the door slams shut behind him. There’s plenty of other customers around, most wearing headphones and sitting at the tables, lost in their work. This morning, there’s no line, and Etho heaves a sigh of relief. He’d been up way too late, and he’s ready for a pick me up. 

“Have you seen the news?” Bdubs asks as soon as he’s at the counter. Over by one of the cabinets, a muted television plays, showing a broken window at one of the museums. Etho tears his eyes from it quickly. 

“Ah, you know me! I never do!”

“Someone broke into Cub’s museum last night!” Bdubs’ eyes are wide, gesturing at the TV anyways. 

Etho blinks, pushing down his rising horror. “No way.” He doesn’t know…surely….

“Yes way!” Bdubs leaned in conspiratorially. “They say that the Cute Guy outfit was stolen!” 

Etho’s grip on the strap of his backpack tightens. “That so?” 

“Yeah! I mean, who would do that, right?” Bdubs pushed back from the counter. “You want your usual, right?” 

“Yes please.” Etho draws out the ‘please’, as always. “Don’t forget the heavy whipping cream.”

“You know you’re the only reason I keep this in stock, right?” Bdubs rolls his eyes, bustling around the coffee shop. It’s a quaint place, smelling so strongly of coffee Etho is sure that he’ll be smelling it the rest of the day. Nonetheless, it was the best coffee shop in the whole city! Least, that was what Bdubs said. And if Etho ever said otherwise, he’d have his head gone by morning, probably. 

“Ah, come on! Best part of the whole coffee!” Etho protests, flicking parts of his napkin at Bdubs whenever his back is turned. 

“You’re disgu–stop flicking the napkin at me–you’re the worst! Don’t even know why I serve this to you, it’s gonna give you diabetes, you’re gonna die at the ripe age of however old you are, and then what’s ol’ Bdubs gonna do?” Throughout his ramble Bdubs flits around the coffeeshop, making Etho’s coffee regardless. It’s a simple enough order, just black coffee. 

…okay, and just as much heavy whipping cream. 

“I’m not gonna die! Takes a lot more than that to kill me!” Etho giggles, although he shifts from foot to foot. What does it take to kill him? He’s tempted to check and make sure his backpack is securely zipped up. 

“It does not take a lot more to kill you.” Bdubs glares at him, sliding the cheap disposable cup across the counter towards him. “Four dollars.” 

“Wh–it’s three-fifty!” 

“Yeah, but I need financial compensation for when this kills you.” Bdubs says smugly. “Pay up, sweetheart.” 

Etho’s not blushing at the endearment. No sirree. He would never, especially since he’s ninety percent sure Bdubs calls everyone that. 

“Etho?” Bdubs stares at him, unimpressed. “Just cause you’re my favorite customer doesn’t mean you get out of paying for your coffee.” 

“Ohhh, favorite customer, you say?” Etho grins, all thoughts abandoned in favor of teasing. “If I’m your favorite customer, can I get a disco-”

“No.” 

“Okay.” Etho laughs, and finally pulls his usual wad of cash from his pocket. “How much again?” 

“Three fifty. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the–”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Etho slides the money over, before hiking his backpack up his shoulder again. “Thanks, ‘dubs. See you around?” 

Bdubs barely even glances at him. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Or maybe at the grocery store? Oh wait, you’re too short–”

“Get out!” Bdubs flicks another napkin at him. “You’re the worst!”

His grin says otherwise, and Etho matches it with his own clear out of the shop. Once out, though… 

The streets are crowded, the sky overcast with light grey clouds. Shoot, he should have checked the weather before he left–if he gets stuck in a drizzle without a jacket, he’ll never hear the end of it from Scar, or Bdubs, or anyone else. 

He walks down the street, glancing around. iBuy seems particularly busy, and so does False’s fashion shop. He slips through the crowd, trying not to bring too much attention to himself. It’s a miracle no one has noticed his routine yet–get coffee, walk down street, duck into the alleyway entirely non suspiciously, and slip in the back door to his new job at HotGuy HQ. 

Insane, right? 

The second he’s through the backdoor, the alarms go off, as usual. It’s a simple matter of yanking a wire from the alarm system to turn it off, and then he continues forward as normal. 

“Scar?” He calls out, glancing around. The HQ is quiet today, not even a receptionist at the front desk. 

“You mean Hot Guy?” 

Etho spins around on his heel, to discover Scar standing at the top of the stairs. He’s fully decked out in his superhero outfit, each muscle outlined and complemented by his shirt. 

“Scar, it’s just us. Do we really need to call each other–”

“Never call each other by real names, Cute Guy. You never know who could be listening.” Scar lowers his head, so that the light shining behind it outlines each impeccable feature in shadow perfectly. “Our identities… must be kept secret. Forever.” 

“Ooookay.” Etho sighs. “Why’d you call me Cute Guy?” 

The light behind Scar goes out, leaving Scar blinking at Etho in confusion. “Because that’s… who you are?”

“What do you mean by that…?” Etho stares back, horror swirling in his gut. “Sca-Hot Guy, I just did you a favor by breaking into that museum. I’m not becoming Cute Guy, that’s someone else’s job–”

“What do you mean?” Scar grins. “That was your final test! To prove your strength, your valor, your bravery!”

“I’m pretty sure those last two words mean the same thi-”

“Did you get it?” Scar descends the steps, his bow clutched desperately in one hand. “Have you succeeded?” 

Etho sighs. When he’d signed up for Hot Guy lessons, he’d thought maybe it would help him pick up some flirting tips, not this! “Yes, S-Hot Guy, I got it.” He slings the backpack off his shoulder, tossing it to Scar without much fanfare. “I’m not wearing that.” 

The bag is caught easily, although Etho doesn’t miss the look of horror when it’s thrown. “You can’t just throw the Cute Guy outfit!”

“Sorry.”

Scar ignores his apology, unzipping the bag eagerly. Each part of the costume is pulled out eagerly, before being dropped on the floor in favor of the next piece. Pink skirt, pink jacket, fishnet tights, pink crop top and are those cat ears?

Etho decides not to point out the irony of half the costume being tossed to the floor after being scolded for throwing the backpack. Besides, he really needs to head on out anyways, he’s running late for work at the redstone department of iBuy–

“Try it on.” 

“What?”

[wordsvomit101]

Gehenna Worldbuilding Draft 1 (with some canon divergence)

Author Notes: this is for fun, don't mind me, I'm just having a spiraling from a hihi haha moment of thinking about Minhyeok's kink to writing this 4.2k words mess. Idk how I got here. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

(At Gehenna's capital city, Malebolge - 8:40 AM IST - Time of Dawn's Embrace)

"So Minhyeok secretly stole your underwear, Miss Raon?" Ppyong needs to control himself. He shouldn't make assumptions about his best friend. Miss Raon only said that her underwear sometimes went missing before miraculously appearing in her cupboard again. At Minhyeok's house. Minhyeok is a super organized and charismatic guy. The cowardly pretty man who can't even show his best friend how those white juices are made. However—

If that is true? Minhyeok would have the worst teasing he ever had in his life from Ppyong and maybe a bit of bullying for his (possible) sneaky and perverted behaviors. Not that he has any ground to stand on, but he wouldn't miss that chance to make fun of Minhyeok. His idiot friend has been hard to read lately. It is hard to know what is going on in that guy's head anymore.

"W-Well! I wouldn't say he 'stole' it per se…" the lovely lady with violet hair who is sitting across from him, nestled between Sir Leraye and Sir Paimon, blushed in embarrassment and tried to think for her next words as the three men patiently waited for her. Until the waitress with curled pink horns on either side of her head and wide deer-like eyes with slits in them comes over to get their orders, her jovial voice as light and dulcet as usual.

"Good days to you all, esteemed patrons! What can I get you today?"

They're sitting in the most well-known bakery in Gehenna, called "Delights Bakery", which specializes in crafting decadent desserts and pastries inspired by the fiery landscape of Gehenna. It has been around for a long time; they still stand strong even in the midst of war. They offer a wide range of treats including Chimera Molten Cake, Vesuvius Tiramisu, Ojoshew Panna Cotta, Brimstone Biscotti, and Fairy Dust Cannoli Gelato.

The bakery provides a cozy and welcoming atmosphere where customers can enjoy freshly baked goods alongside a cup of fiendishly delicious coffee or tea. They also offer custom cake designs for special occasions like birthdays, weddings, and anniversaries, allowing customers to personalize their desserts to suit their tastes.

Ppyong's personal favorite from this place is Brimstone Biscotti, a devilishly delicious treat that pairs perfectly with a cup of the place's signature Infused Fire Coffee. These crispy almond biscotti are infused with the smoky aroma of brimstone from the eastern plantation of Gehenna and studded with common sparkling chili flakes, creating a bold and intense flavor profile that is sure to awaken anyone's senses.

"Alrighty! Your orders are coming right up, please be patient!" With a cheerful hum, the cute waitress walks back to her station with slightness in her hooves-like legs with blossom fur. A misleading appearance to a devil that ruthlessly stomped on several angels' heads yesterday and handled almost everything here before help came. She even asked to keep their bodies for new recipes.

Once they finished their orders, Sir Paimon reserved an order of Mystic Amaretto Affogato to give to Sir Astaroth since they would meet after this meet-up. They got back to the topic.

"I most likely forgot to wash them and... just left them around. He often does my laundry anyway when he comes over to visit, but…"

Sir Paimon's beautiful and cheerful voice adds, "There'sss stillll a possibilityyyy he isss usingg it forrrr his ownnn pleasureee withoutttt telling youuu, if sooo, don't youuu thinkkk he needed a bitttttt of a scoldinggg?", he ends his statement effortlessly cute with a wide playful smile, his heterochromia blinking innocently as if he didn't just accuse Minhyeok of wrongdoings, and his pretty long lashes flutter above his cheekbone like two pairs of Ethereal Emberwing to Miss Raon as if seducing her to agree.

"I- I mean he could be- No wait! He wouldn't! He never showed any signs that he would use them for anything other than washing them for me," Miss Raon said with a bright red face as she tried to defend her best friend's honor now that the conversation turned into this, unlike how she first brought it up.

"Then shouldn't he be more straightforward with you? I don't think it is a problem if you're ok with it. Shouldn't he be more honest with his temptation?" Sir Leraye innocently pulls the topic back where Paimon wants it, and his charming face frowns as he closes his eyes, deep in thought.

"Even I wouldn't say I wash his underwear for him in his face! It would be embarrassing! And it would be more believable if he said he liked women's fashion instead."

"Huh? Minhyeok do aye?" That is a surprising twist, though it seems more unexpected in Ppyong's opinion since he knows Minhyeok did ask for Miss Raon's panty for his white liquid creation process.

"Minhyeok doesn't seem like that kind of guy aye, I've never seen him show any interest in dresses and makeup too aye. If anything, I think he hugged his baseball bat in his sleep aye," like a good friend, he keeps that to himself and emphatically looks up to Miss Raon in consolation as the chance that her best friend is sniffing her panty in secret is more likely than ever.

"I'm telling you it's not like that!-", her sentence was again cut off by the bright voice of the waitress, "Sorry for the interruption! Here are your orders!" Without looking at the table, she still expertly set out their meals in the right order while smiling happily at them, "While I would love to listen to this lively conversation, I got more tables to serve. Enjoy yourselves, fellas!"

"Thank you!" they all said in unison at the preceding figure of the waitress before excitedly digging into their desserts. Ppyong's cartoonish eyes light up with anticipation, and he can feel the drool from his mouth. He reaches eagerly for the plate of Brimstone Biscotti. The aroma of roasted brimstone and dark chocolate wafts up to his nose, and he can't resist taking a bite immediately.

With a satisfied grin, Ppyong chews slowly, savoring the rich flavors dancing on his taste buds. "Mn! As delicious as always aye!" he remarks between bites, crumbs scattering on the table with each enthusiastic gesture.

Sir Paimon, the refined gentleman that he is, delicately lowers his spoon into the Ojoshew Panna Cotta. The creamy dessert yields with a gentle resistance before surrendering to his touch, letting him savor each scoop with a pleased and graceful smile.

"Mnhmmm, thisss is perfectttt forrr this fineee weatherrr, isn't itttt?"

On the other side of the table, Sir Leraye's enthusiasm knows no bounds as he plunges his spoon into the Fairy Dust Cannoli Gelato. His eyes sparkle with childlike delight as he unearths the hidden treasures within the velvety layers of frozen delight. His sunny expressions bring peace to the hearts of everyone who witnesses it.

"Yeah! It has been a while since we got to hang out like this and with Raon too! Oh! This is the first time for you isn't it Raon? What do you think?"

Between the two attractive devils, Miss Raon picks up her Vesuvius Tiramisu, her eyes marveling at its intricate presentation. The dessert resembles a miniature volcano, with layers of sponge cake and creamy mascarpone erupting from the center. She takes a tentative bite, and her eyes widen in surprise and delight as she savors the decadent dessert.

Her expression mirroring the awe of a child experiencing something magical for the first time. "This is incredible," she murmurs, her voice filled with genuine amazement. They all smile at her quiet joy and let her enjoy her meal as they begin to talk among themselves.

As Sir Leraye and Sir Paimon delved into their discussion about future assignments, their voices took on a bit more serious tone, yet their postures and actions felt relaxed and full of confidence.

Sir Leraye took a thoughtful bite of his dessert, savoring the creamy sweetness before chiming in, "You know, Paimon, after this, I'm thinking of heading over to Sulfur Springs. The streets are always lively there and my men have been struggling quite a bit recently. Do you want to join me after you meet up with Astaroth?" Sir Leraye seems sheepish as he subtly requests Sir Paimon's assistance.

Sir Paimon gently tilted his head, and a few strands of his silky blonde hair softly fell over his right eye, his gaze composed as he thought.

"Sulfurrr Springsss, huhhhh? Thattt doess sounddd enticingg. Buttt I've gottt myyy sights settt on Shadowspireee attt the Tailll of the Wolffff. I heardd there's hasss beennn some spewinggg commotionn undergrounddd in thattt nightt cityyy from Belialll"

With a false tired sign, he let his head fall gently on Miss Raon's head as he chewed on his spoon between his rosy lips. His pretty eyes are saddened as he looks at Sir Leraye.

"'mm soo innn trenddd latellyy. Evennn Hiss Majestyyy Satan calll for meee to thee southernnn provincess of Ashennn Citadelll tooo..."

Sir Leraye smiled in understanding and pat Paimon on the shoulder, "It's OK! It's just a suggestion! Don't worry Paimon, me and my men can handle it! So just focus on your work and enjoy spilling blood as usual!" the devil with the bright monocle said good-naturedly and lightened the mood with his light laugh at the last part.

"Awww~ Thankkk youuu Lerayeee~ You're a sweetthearttt as usualll~," Sir Paimon smiled sweetly back at Leraye and straightened himself up to look at Miss Raon, who had been drawn into the lively conversation between the two after she helped Ppyong slice the Brimstone Biscotti into a smaller size for him to eat.

"It'ss unfortunateee thattt we can'tt spenddd moreee timeee withhh youuu Raonnn. Don'ttt worryyy, we will droppp youuu with Zagan at Pitstoppp Plazaaa once we doneee, are youuu okkk with ittt?" Sir Paimon smiled kindly at Miss Raon as he asked her, and she smiled back in understanding.

"Of course! Please don't mind me and work hard. I also planned to ask for Zagan's help with my training today. Also," Miss Raon is now looking back at him, her face slightly red, "I will likely need, um, Minhyeok's 'thing' again. Ppyong, can you take the second portion of Vesuvius Tiramisu for him? He would like it."

A mix of eagerness and pride filled his heart. It wasn't just any task. It was a gesture of trust from someone he deeply respected. Despite doing so many times before, the simple thought of being chosen for such an errand brought a sense of validation, but also a touch of excitement to meet with his best friend!... and be rewarded with Fererere from the black-haired human.

"You can count on me aye!" With a proud grin and his chest puffed up, Ppyong determined to fulfill Raon's request with care and diligence. Also, Fererere is waiting for him!

Once they finished and dropped Miss Raon with Sir Zagan for their training, they parted ways and Ppyong made his way to the Teleportation Tower, or Nether Nexus Spire for fancy sake.

It didn't take long for Ppyong to see the towering building from miles away. The tower constructed from obsidian marble and adorned with intricate carvings of arcane symbols serves as the central hub for interdimensional travel within Gehenna. The tower is imposing and grand, with soaring spires reaching toward the sky of Hell. The exterior is adorned with flickering magic flaming bright chandeliers that dance along the edges of the tower, casting an eerie glow that illuminates the surrounding landscape.

Being a regular visitor, it doesn't take long for Ppyong to get past the inspection from the entrance and get in. At the heart of the tower lies a vast chamber filled with pulsating crystals of various hues, each one representing a different destination within Gehenna and beyond. These crystals serve as conduits for the teleportation magic that powers the gates, allowing travelers to journey to distant realms without getting themselves stuck somewhere in the void or getting wrecked from the torrent between spaces.

"Sir Ppyong! Good day to you!" a bright voice from the small goat-like devil rang over the hall before he saw the figure of Cock flying down from the third floor to greet him.

"To you too aye! Can you create a portal for me to Earth? I need to deliver something at Miss Raon's request aye," he said as they made their way to the vast ritual circle surface, etched into the polished obsidian marble floor. This circular platform serves as the focal point for the teleportation process, where technicians carefully select the appropriate crystal core to facilitate the journey to the desired destination.

"Oh? Another delivery? Miss Raon must cherish this human if she often sends him this many gifts!" Once the appropriate crystal is selected, Cock placed it in the center of the ritual circle, where it resonates with magical energy. The technician then channel his power, weaving intricate spells and incantations to activate the crystal and create the portal to the desired location.

"He is her best friend after all aye! Also, I should hurry too aye since Miss Raon will need his white liquid soon," he explained as the magic surged through the ritual circle, the air shimmered with otherworldly energy, and a swirling vortex of darkened hues materialized in the center of the circle. This portal serves as a gateway between realms, offering passage to those who seek to traverse the vast expanse of Gehenna and beyond.

"Of course, Sir Ppyong! Just a bit… Here you go! Have a good journey up there Sir!" With the portal open, Ppyong is free to step through and embark on his trip to Earth. Once he passes through, he is enveloped in a whirlwind of magical energy, his surroundings shifting and warping as he is transported to his chosen destination.

The boundaries between space and time blurred as he hurtled through the ethereal void, his body and soul becoming one with the primordial forces that governed the universe. Suddenly, the whirlwind dissipated, and Ppyong found himself facing the familiar sight of his best friend's room.

"Oomphf!"

The noise of his landing surprised the person sitting at the study table beside his bed. He lay there for a moment, gathering his bearings, and enjoyed the softness of the blanket. However, he could hear the faint sound of muffled laughter coming from the human, and when he picked himself up and was about to give Minhyeok a piece of his mind, he stopped in his tracks by the sight before him.

"Are you... Minhyeok's family Miss...?"

Seated before him is a vision of elegance and beauty, their presence commanding attention with every subtle movement. Cascading down their back like an ethereal waterfall, waves of lustrous black hair frame their delicate features with a natural allure, each strand glistening like strands of jet-black under the gentlest light.

A soft pink jacket, impeccably tailored to accentuate their statuesque frame, draped over the shoulders of their crisp white shirt. A meticulously tied white ribbon hair tie added a touch of sophistication to their ensemble. Beneath the jacket, a pretty pink sailor-style collar adorned with a dainty bow hinted subtly at femininity. Completing their attire was a soft beige-colored jean mini skirt, its hemline fluttering just above their knees, creating an image of effortless delicate playfulness.

Subtle touches of makeup enhance their natural beauty, accentuating doe-like black eyes framed by fluttering lashes that cast soft shadows against their flawless complexion and faintly blushing cheeks. Their lips, painted with a delicate hue of rosy pink, curve into a pleasant and serene smile, radiating warmth and charm.

Completing the ensemble are sleek white thigh-high boots, their glossy finish contrasting elegantly against the soft fabric of their alluring black socking. Warm clothing for the current cold weather on Earth.

A familiar snort of a man from the breathtaking beauty before him gave him a shock all over his red body. The man then averted his enchanting eyes from Ppyong, engrossed in his reflection in the mirror. The soft glow of the vanity lights illuminates his delicate features as he continues to meticulously apply his makeup with his slender hand.

The array of skincare and makeup products is meticulously arranged on the elegant desk before the man shows his progress. The room is filled with the light sweet scent of perfumes and creams, adding to the air of luxury and sophistication that surrounds his every movement. The soft rustle of brushes and the gentle click of compacts punctuated the air as the masculine voice rang out from the looker's fetching lips.

"How terrible, you couldn't even recognize your bestie?

"Hah?"

"Well, I wouldn't blame you. It's not every day people see this side of me. What do you think? You gave an eyeful earlier"

Ppyong's jaw practically hit the floor as he struggled to process the sight before him. His two black eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the breathtaking transformation of his best friend.

"What?!- What kind of shapeshifting sorcery is this?! Who are you and what have you done to Minhyeok aye?!"

He blinked rapidly as if trying to dispel the illusion before him, but Minhyeok remained seated before him, radiating an undeniable aura of grace and captivation. Gone was the familiar image of his friend in the casual and relaxed attire of a university student, replaced instead by this mesmerizing embodiment of a tall young attractive woman.

"I'm still me. This is just a practice for my friend's club drama performance. The leading lady's best friend role becomes empty because the girl has personal health issues and no one has time to take on another role. So I got the recommendation and the part"

Minhyeok explained as he gave his hair a fix-up and a once-over in the mirror. Minhyeok ran his fingers through his hair, flicking his wrist to fix a stubborn section that refused to sit properly. He peered at his reflection in the mirror, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration.

His fingers danced over his locks, deftly styling them into place. Each movement was precise and deliberate, like an artist working on a masterpiece. His face, usually relaxed and carefree, now held a touch of vanity as he admired his handiwork. The corners of his lips curved into a satisfied smirk as he gave his reflection one final once-over, the image of a spoiled young lady of a wealthy family getting ready for a night out reflected back at him.

"It's silly that they don't change the gender of the role and make me go around campus like this during the festival," he sighed, continuing, "but I do owe the club leader for that one time he helped me out." Ppyong didn't know what to think or feel now that he saw Minhyeok giving a cute little pout to himself.

"It's also best that I look like my own imaginary mute sister. A half-hearted effort would not help in the slightest"

At that moment, Ppyong couldn't help but marvel at the accuracy of Raon's suggestion to defend her friend, especially with how at ease Minhyeok was right now. They really knew each other like the back of their hands.

Yet Ppyong's mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from disbelief to admiration. He couldn't help but admire the confidence with which Minhyeok carried himself, not bothered a bit by the girlish clothing he was wearing right now. It was beautiful and, for Ppyong, incredibly attractive.

Until he remembers what he's here for.

"Ah! That's right! The tiramisu, aye!" Opening the pocket of his stomach, Ppyong pulled out a box of Vesuvius Tiramisu that was bigger than himself and put it on the desk, sitting on it in front of Minhyeok, looking up and delighted as he got the attention from the gorgeous man above him. Though Minhyeok seemed to already guess who gave it to him.

"Miss Raon went out to have a snack with me and Sir Leraye and Sir Paimon today, aye! She bought a second portion for you and had me deliver it here!"

A radiant smile of pure joy illuminated his best friend's face, his captivating eyes brimming with tenderness and adoration. It was as if he were a devoted spouse receiving a long-awaited gift from his husband who is away from war, his cheeks flushing with a bashful delight as he attempted to conceal his beaming grin behind a delicate, carefully manicured hand.

Ppyong had to pat himself on the back as he marveled at the sight before him. His body shivered from a wave of longing washing over his entire being. Were there any other, lesser devils present to witness this scene, they would surely have shamelessly propositioned Minhyeok or openly leered at him. Perhaps the weakest of all would have boldly pounced on the ravishing man without a second thought.

"That girl, hehe, she should just worry for herself, risking her life down there but still has time for this? That dork, really..."

Ppyong could feel the love from Minhyeok's words as he opened the box and took a look inside, his smile pleased before closing the lids. Ppyong felt a surge of satisfaction knowing that he had managed to deliver Raon's thoughtful gesture to his friend.

"Thanks for having it delivered here, really, I appreciate it. It lets me know she's still well."

As Minhyeok expressed his gratitude, Ppyong's chest swelled with pride, his heart brimming with a new sense of joy knowing that he had brought a nice smile to Minhyeok's face.

"Hmph! Of course, this much is nothing for a great devil like this Ppyong, aye!" Despite his prideful words, he couldn't contain the childish giddiness swirling inside him at having the attention of this striking man, who often kept an invisible distance between them.

With a soft chuckle, Minhyeok put his face on his hand as he leaned on the desk. Ppyong couldn't help but take in the scent of light jasmine with a hint of soap and cotton underneath, and the proximity was making him tremble slightly.

"Sure, sure, you most likely came here for 'that'. I need to finish putting on the choker and earrings to take pictures in this. It will be quick, so just give me Raon's laundry and wait for me outside the bathroom."

"Can I help—?" His question was cut short before he could finish. "No," now the beautiful man coolly looked down at him and leaned back to open the drawer from his desk, taking out a black choker and silver heart-shaped earrings.

"Just be patient, or else I won't give you Fererere," the warning effectively shoved the protest back into Ppyong's mouth, and Minhyeok began to fiddle with the choker, trying to tie it around his pale neck.

"... Do you need help, aye?"

Minutes already ticked by as Minhyeok struggled in vain, on the verge of giving up in frustration. Suddenly, Ppyong's tiny crimson body darted over to Minhyeok's back. With an echoing pop, black smoke billowed from the point of contact, transforming into his high-ranking devil appearance. Surprising Minhyeok as his friend turned to look up at him.

"Just turn around, will you, aye? Come on, give that to me, aye."

Minhyeok reluctantly handed him the choker and Ppyong's hands deftly retrieved it from Minhyeok's grasp, his movements smooth and practiced. With a delicate touch, he began to gently secure the choker around his friend's elegant and seductive pale neck.

'Damn'

The choker rested against Minhyeok's skin, a dazzling accessory that added to his friend's already irresistible demeanor.

"See? You should just let me help, aye", before Minhyeok could argue, he quickly grabbed the earrings and stilled his friend's shoulder with his left hand. He let his gaze linger on the mirror before them, greedily taking in Minhyeok's flustered face as Ppyong towered over him.

As Ppyong delicately placed the shimmering earrings on Minhyeok's ears, a soft glow enveloped the room, accentuating the tension of the moment. Standing behind him, he caught a glimpse of his friend's reflection in the mirror, his features illuminated by the warm light. Minhyeok's black eyes met his crimson ones through the mirror, revealing a slight flush of pink spreading across his cheeks as he bit down on his lower lip in a gesture of bashful charm, unaware of the captivating allure he exuded at that moment.

'Fuck, he's lucky that it's me here and not other devils'

With a heavy gulp, Ppyong's muscles tensed as a wave of heat surged through his body, originating from the attractive man in front of him. Despite the tempting pull of desire, he resisted the urge and swiftly reverted to his usual Red Lump form once he was done, dispelling the charged atmosphere with the resounding volume of his voice.

"Ok! Here! Be done quickly and give me your white liquid and Fererere, aye!" he said quickly as he pulled out a bag of Miss Raon's laundry and threw it at Minhyeok's lap.

It broke Minhyeok from his daze, and he scowled beautifully at Ppyong before he gave an exasperated sigh and stood up from his seat. Ppyong expected everyone to understand his internal disappointment from not having the attention of the enticing man anymore. It didn't matter if it made him feel like those stuck-up devils from Hades.

"Fine, and wait for me to make some food for you to bring back"

"Sure! Hurry up then, aye!"

Minhyeok gave him a suspicious glance over his shoulder before retreating into his bathroom, the heels from his white boots clicking against the floor sensually, leaving Ppyong there on his bed. Once Minhyeok was out of sight, the red devil lay down tiredly as he dazedly looked up at the ceiling. The image of the vulnerable back of the pretty man lingered in his mind, wrecking him with arousal mixed with a good dose of guilt.

"...Crap, Miss Raon will not forgive me if she knows of this"

She would probably, very likely even without magic, squeeze him in her hands until he popped like confetti for even thinking of her friend like that.

[reader6898]

Forbidden Romance

Pairing: OC Amilyn x Commander Cody

Series Summary: When someone keeps threatening Amilyn's life Cody is appointed as her personal bodyguard. As they spend more time together feelings start to form between them. In a time of war will duty and honor get in the way of what they want most?

Series Rating: 18+(no minors), attempted assassination, bit of violence, bit of a slow burn, secret romance, eventual smut

A/n: Cody and bodyguard romance just do something to me

Chapter 1

Cody hated this. It had already been fifteen minutes and he was already exhausted from being around politicians. While he finished healing from a wound that he recently sustained from battle he was given bodyguard duty. He would've rather been stuck behind a desk but instead here he was stuck being a personal bodyguard to a senator. He knows that not all the senators are rich and snobby but from what he experienced most of them were. Cody hasn't even met you yet so until he does he's going to assume you are just like those senators. Cody was standing outside your office while he waited for you to get done with a meeting and answered a message from one of his brothers when the doors opened and out came two senators. He stood to attention as they passed by him and your aide came up to him. "Senator Shysa is ready for you, commander." Cody followed behind her as she brought him to the sitting area. "She'll be with you in a moment."

Cody nodded his head and went back to the message he was sending. As he pressed send you walked in with your aide and another guard. Cody looked up and you greeted him. "You must be commander Cody." Cody stood up just a little bit straighter. "Yes, ma'am." You gestured to the seat behind him. "Please, take a seat." "Thank you, ma'am."

Cody took his seat as you sat down on the couch opposite him with both your guard and aide standing close by. "Can I offer you anything to drink, commander?"You ask as you gesture to the water in front of the two of you. "No thank you, ma'am." You nodded your head in understanding but went and poured yourself a glass as you hadn't had anything to drink since breakfast. You quickly took a sip before getting to the task at hand. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this, commander. I know that you would rather be doing something else than be a bodyguard to a senator." "I'm just doing my duty, ma'am." "Right. Anyway, did General Kenobi or someone else give you a rundown by any chance?" "Only that someone has threatened you. The general didn't really go into much detail. He figured it would be better if you explained it to me."

“Of course. I’m sure that you are aware that I just became senator of my planet so I am fairly new to this. My planet was recently liberated from the separatists and we became part of the republic. To thank the republic I decided to open up trade routes to the clones so that it would be easier for you to access resources. I started to write up a bill to show my loyalty to the republic and that my people promise to provide whatever they needed but a few nights ago my office was broken into. Nothing was taken but the next day I found this note.” You take out the note that you had received and hand it over to Cody who took a look at it. “Like all other senators I’m no stranger to death threats as I had started to receive them not long after I became senator. Most of them were harmless so I ignored them. Along with this one of course.” Cody looked up. “Might I ask why you’re taking it seriously now?” “Yesterday I brought a draft of my bill to the senate. Most of the people support it of course and so I thought it went well. But then last night I went back to my apartment and someone had broken in. Everything had been turned over and one of my pet Tookas had been killed. I..also found another note and it has blood on it.”

Your guard handed the note to you which you then handed it to Cody. The note was definitely more threatening than the one he just read and was definitely cause for concern. “I wasn’t sure who to turn to so Senator Amidala brought it to the Jedi and they had suggested that they provide me with a bodyguard. So, that’s why you’re here.” Cody put both the notes down and looked at you. “I promise I’ll do my best to keep you safe, senator.” You smiled a little at Cody. “I have complete faith in you, commander.”

You stood up and Cody followed suit. “If you excuse me I have another meeting starting soon. I will be busy for the next few weeks so I will have my aide send you my schedule.” Cody bowed a little. “Of course, senator.” You walked back into your office and Cody took up his post at your door.

For the rest of the day Cody studied your schedule on what your week looks like and when he wasn’t doing that he was accompanying you to talk with other senators about upcoming bills or keeping watch while you worked. While it was only his first day as your personal bodyguard all of it was pretty boring. He never understood how Fox and the rest of the corries could do this every day. But he will admit that it’s a nice change of pace. He didn't have to deal with his own men or paperwork and he wasn't worried about getting shot at. Not that he wasn't used to it but he was actually grateful to his general for forcing him to do this. He would have to thank general Kenobi after the job was done.

As he thought about this your office door opened and Cody stepped to the side to let you out. "Please make sure these get to Senator Amidala and Organa right away, Tasha." "Yes, my lady."

After your aide walked away you let out a sigh as the stress of the day got to you. Luckily you didn't have anything else to work on tonight. You looked at commander Cody and approached him. He stood a little straighter as you stood in front of him. "Ma'am." "I'm all finished here commander. We'll be leaving shortly." "Yes senator."

Tasha returned shortly after and after you sent her home for the night both you and Cody took off.

Next Chapter >

Tagging: @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @cw80831 @anxiouspineapple99 @cloneloverrrrr @moonlightwarriorqueen @dystopicjumpsuit @eternal-transcience @sev-on-kamino @wizardofrozz @multi-fan-dom-madness @deejadabbles

[aroaceamyrosearchive]

Idol AU?! Who all is involved?

okay so me and @max-iwtaco have been brainrotting about it yesterday but we're trying to include as many characters as we can think of XD

THIS ASK HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS NOW I THINK. ANYWAY

i wanted amy to be the main character bc like. look at her...

but okay so let me summarize what we talked about

-sonic and shadow both debuted when they were very young under competing labels. sonic does a lot of solo singing and rapping stuff, plays guitar, and dances (he specialized in breakdancing which is poggers), meanwhile shadow sings (he can do screamo if he wants. as a treat) and dances (he specializes more in interpretive type dance). theyve always been rivals, releasing albums around the same time and fighting for all the awards and stuff. and dont get me started on idol sports champio ships-

-so amy's dream has been to be an idol, and she took a lot of inspiration from sonic!! so she uses her tarot cards like in canon and it tells her to audition for the same label as sonic is under (tho im debating what to call it) and she does and makes it in!!!

-eggman runs a company. the one that team dark is under. team dark is a band with shadow on vocals and bass, rouge on vocals and electric guitar, and omega on drums. lets just say they have to buy new drums every performance.

-sonic also has a band with knuckles and tails, where he plays guitar, tails is on synthesizer, and knuckles is on drums.

-amy becomes a soloist but cream comes to all of her shows. she has special permission backstage to see her and be her emotional support. also they sometimes let cream on stage to sing a little song and the audience loves it. cream also has a kazoo

-knuckles's dad used to be the head of their company but knuckles inherited it. or something

-tails is a HUGE music theory nerd. he loves math rock

-amy dabbles in music composition (bc im projecting)

-tails and sonic knew each other since they were little and sonic would play guitar for him and tails started learning bc of him and then he got REALLY into music theory and became a big nerd. sonic cant actually read sheet music lmao

-sonic joined the company under the condition that tails joins with him and tails was so cute that they couldnt say no

-since knuckles takes care of the whole company now he doesn't actually perform concerts that often but when he does the audience goes WILD. you never know when youre gonna see knuckles. it's a gamble every time. on the times knuckles cant come play drums big will come to play instead

-big doesnt ever actually show upto practice bc hes too busy fishing. he just shows up and plays the concert and then he's gone again. froggy plays the cymbal

-froggy gets put on the concert posters and big doesnt bc big just shows up. froggy is the star of the show

-sonic raps while knuckles beatboxes. tails tries to rap and its adorable

-cream is the first to listen to amy's demos and comes to support her at the recording studio

-this quote from Max: "ALLSO she would give advice like "everything sounded VERY COOL but it would be even cooler if you added like DUMM DU DUMMM YDHVVJ TXFHVJJV at the end""

-blaze does classical music and plays the violin. silver does techno style stuff. they collab a lot and sound amazing together

-silver is super into composing and posts his stuff on bandcamp. he's not under any labels or anything

anyway. i love them

[goodluckclove]

WIP Tag Game!

Whoa tagged again by the brilliant @ivaspinoza! Check her out if you're down for what I imagine to be some intense bloodsucking existentialism!

I'll do this for all of Songbird Elegies as a whole. I'm on book two right now - Blind Trust comes out June 20th!

Read below to hear some things about the origins of the series that I haven't actually said yet and probably won't say again.

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

Funny story! I hadn't written anything tangible for months since leaving my terrible copyrighting job. I was absolutely miserable. I ended up leaving my second job because of a medication problem and spent a week in bed detoxing off of Seroquel withdrawal - bad bad don't do that if you can help it. After that I fell into recovery and just had no idea what to do with my days.

The turning point was when I sent an email going fully no-contact with my across-the-board abusive parents. They did some awful things across the course of my life and I'm still spending a good chunk of time making up for their ridiculous medical neglect. I might need throat surgery because of them. Not great! But anyways, I sent that email and wrote the first 15 pages of Blind Trust later that day, sitting on the floor while my wife took a nap on the couch. It just came out. Wife said they liked it so I just kept going.

Three months and two data losses later and the first draft was done!

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

I have so many Songbird Elegy playlists oh my God. It's hard to say, and the answer will change, but right now it's "Love Me, Normally" by Will Wood.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

They're all very important to me for different reasons. Scott is the one I tend to talk about the most because he captures a lot of mania and upbeat romanticism, qualities of myself that I value despite the obvious faults. Edgar is just as important, but they represent a lot of my current struggles and I'm doing a lot of healing and processing through them which is good but less - you know - fun?

Tenzin reminds me of my wife with her quiet stoicism. Katy reminds me of my older sister and everything she sacrificed to keep me and my siblings alive. She's more of a mother to me than my own mother. My sister is actually the first person to finish Blind Trust after I finished it.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

Disco Elysium maybe? Griffin and Sabine - has anyone else read that? The Witcher, but specifically the novels? Requiem for a Dream for later books. Tales of the City in terms of tone and character focus. Fleet Foxes and Hoizer and early Decemberists?

Good, warm soup. If you like a bowl of good, warm soup, you will enjoy Songbird Elegies.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

Definitely Edgar's arc. Their experience with their metaphorical (or are they??) inner child and the abuse they've been working to escape and recover from has been hard to look at directly. Especially once I introduced Scott's mother, who's turned into a weird mix of the maternal figure I wish I had and the one I feel I could've been if I chose that path.

Yesterday I found myself writing how I wish it went when my wife met my parents, through Scott and Edgar meeting Scott's mom. The sharing of parental pride and affection despite potential embarrassment. It's a cute scene, but there's a lot of grief in there for me. I wonder if it'll show.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Wilford Brimley is Katy's pet Persian cat. He is old and weird and a little fucked up. I had to edit his introduction in Blind Trust because it was six (small) paragraphs and Wife told me that was unreasonable (skill issue), but I can include some canon info:

He shoves his paw under the bathroom door while people are in the bathroom

He likes feet

Edgar sometimes shares little bits of cheese with him

Once he fell asleep in Edgar's lap but then peed in his lap and just kept sleeping in the piss

Edgar treat him like a weird cousin he has to make conversation with during holidays

Wilford thinks he's his brother and an equally fucked up cat

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Cars mostly! Edgar has a shitty used car that's always close to breaking down. Katy has a newer car that's still used, but she takes very good care of it - I think it's a Fiat. I think Tenzin probably uses the car Scott's Dad left behind after he died, which is a vintage Cadillac convertible that Scott's Mom fixed up.

Scott is the only one without a license since he essentially has a magical dissociative disorder and hasn't yet felt safe behind the wheel. In Blind Trust he's taken every form of public transit to cross the country. I think when he was younger he used to skateboard to get around Bluerose.

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

I'm close to 40k into book two!

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

I have hopes that people will enjoy the tenderness of it. I'm like a reverse-whump ace writer, in that I've written a series that's aggressively pro-comfort and recovery. People start off in pretty sorry states and then make the difficult effort to put themselves and each other back together.

There's explicit ace representation in Scott and aroace rep in Katy (she doesn't know it yet though shhh). Edgar comes out as Agender and changes pronouns midway into the series, but still keeps presenting as androgynous/masc leaning. There's diversity in body types and gender identities in a way that feels warranted to me - Scott has Klinefelter's and grew up taking T, and he made a best friend that came out so she could take her E with him. Same goes with disabilities in prominent characters, though the main four focus on what I have personal experience in.

As a disabled queer writer I hope to make a series that tells a fantastical story about people like me that doesn't pander specifically to my market.

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

I hope people read it. I hope they like it. It'd be cool if I could talk to people about it. I've been pretty deep in the Songbird Elegy fandom for some time now haha.

On a more serious note I hope there's a market for non-sexualized romances that are still hyper intimate. I know I'm into it but I'm still not sure if other people are. I'd like to create more media about positive and fulfilling ace relationships, both romantic and platonic. I'm tired of people seeing that type of life as a loss. Any healthy companionship is not a loss.

I want people to read Songbird Elegies and think about the love in their lives and in themselves. All of it, in every way. Yeah.

I tag @ryns-ramblings! I wanna hear about your thing!

[levmada]

at last, i have the time to send you multiple of these because i cream whenever i read something you write. anyway…

could i ask for levi… college au and call from this list? but levi is the one in distress? it’s usually common that the reader is crying, but it would be nice to see levi getting comforted too :’)

(from more hurt/comfort, if the link doesn’t work :s)

ik i just posted a long oneshot yesterday but my drafts are clogged. i fucking love comforting levi so this is the first of ur requests i worked on suki :3 i hope u like it

content/warnings: Kenny is actually not that bad?, negative self-talk, HURT/COMFORT SO MUCH COMFORT, death of a parent, taking care of Levi, college au, specific descriptions/themes of severe depression

wc: 2.5k

One muse calls sender late at night in tears and the other comes over to comfort them. 

Levi knows, in a vague, peripheral way, that he is being shitty to you with no intention to. Not a day ever goes by where you two don’t talk, but he hasn't responded to Erwin or Hange’s texts, either. Emails from professors, too. Even Mikasa has been blowing up his phone since she heard from her mom what happened, but.

He has spent the better part of the past two days in bed since leaving class early on Thursday.

That’s fucking unheard of for him, especially answering his uncle of all people, but five silent, missed calls later Levi picked up, and down the line, Kenny’s voice was urgent.

Kenny. Urgent.

It’s the weekend, Levi rationalized to himself on Friday. Grades would be okay. His social life would suffer, but he would text you Saturday morning after he got his mental shit together.

The worst part is he fucking knew he was in denial—again, in the vague, peripheral way.

Now, with Sunday night’s moon glaring in through his bedroom window, he realizes he doesn’t give a shit about any of it.

A mishmash of tasks, far removed from any coherent list, bothers him from time to time—most often after he blinks from his perpetual frozen stupor to his phone ringing; besides Mikasa, you’ve called the most.

He needs to...

He realizes he’s been stroking his oily hair without realizing, all in the dark for however long, and stops. It felt soothing.

A shower. Dishes. He hasn't eaten much lately, but all the same. Homework... unless he emails his professors for extensions.

He has no doubt in his mind that he would get them, but just typing the words makes his train of thought derail into hell. Despite how vague he could be—“I need to attend a funeral.”; “There has been a death in my family.”; “I am experiencing a loss.”—heavy nausea twists his stomach in knots just to put the words together in his head.

He hasn’t changed out of your woolen sweater since Friday, the one with the panda bear. It’s also soothing.

But changing clothes is also on that list.

And he needs to call you, at the very least so you don’t lose your mind, or jump to the worst conclusions…

He’s being shitty to you by ignoring you, but the idea of reaching for his phone where it sits charging on the bedside table, the idea of rolling over, the idea of rubbing his eyes… It all feels as possible as flipping over gravity.

Laying in dead darkness isn’t going to make him feel any better, he knows. The quiet is piercing. The way he lays curled up under blankets isn’t unlike a corpse, either, but this deep in the hole, he’s struggling to get himself out.

He is not... in a good... place.

Bright white light washes over the ceiling as another call from you—that's your picture flashing, a candid photo he took of you almost tumbling out of your kayak from last summer—lights up his phone.

Move, he commands himself. It’s a foot away. Quit being pathetic and just. MOVE!

“Shit,” he croaks.

You’re worrying the shit out of them, you asshole!

After whipping the loose sleeve across his eyes, he lurches up and snatches his phone.

He forgot. The charging cable is yanked from the outlet and clatters on hardwood.

Shit. That couldn’t make the top fifteen on his list of priorities right now.

He tugs the cord from his phone and actually sets it on the floor at least. With his back killing him (from how long he has rotted in this fucking bed), he flops back and sluggishly rolls onto his side.

But as soon as he goes to press the green call button, it rings its last.

For a few unbelieving moments, he stares at his dark screen, not processing. The wider darkness turns blurry.

“Okay,” he whispers at last, and clears his voice of its rough edges in preparation.

It’s just like you to be up this late on a Sunday night; catching up on homework, probably. But he’s worrying himself sick over taking up the rest of your night. He doesn’t plan to go to class tomorrow.

He taps your contact through his stinging eyes, brimming with unshed tears.

And he’s worried about what he’ll say. He has practiced, wracked his mind for the right words, but he just can’t.

But it’s better you hear from him first. Eventually, you would find out anyway—Mikasa will tell Eren who will tell you in class tomorrow, he bets—and he can’t think of anyone else to talk to. No one that wouldn’t drain the life out of him, and-or make him feel somehow worse, and-or someone he can talk to when he’s like this.

The call rings once—no, less than once.

“Levi?” your breathy voice, full of exasperation hits his ear. His throat instantly lurches. “Are... Are you there? Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you since Friday. I thought maybe your phone broke, but—”

But you haven’t seen him in that class you have together, and no one else has heard from him either, he knows, but he lets you speak. He needs time to collect himself. And he can bathe in the sound of your voice for the first time in two hellish days.

"Levi? Baby?"

“I’m.” He cringes at the crack in his voice that already threatens to shatter. “I’m here.”

Your tone shifts into absolute concern. “There you are. I missed you.”

It shows how well you know him, you not asking what’s wrong directly.

His adam’s apple hiccups as he swallows, but the knot in his throat won’t give, and so a soft sob escapes instead.

“Shh...” He can practically see the surprise on your face. “Lev’ I’m here, I’m here...”

Eyes shut tight, he shoves his fist in his mouth in order to stop. The last thing he should be crying about is hearing your voice, you comforting him without even asking for an explanation.

“I’m here, sweetie.”

“…You’re n-not here,” he grinds out. He doesn’t know where this sudden flux of anger is coming from. “S-Something,” he gasps, crying, “Something happened.”

Your voice leaves. Quiet feels endless, until, “Okay, I’m coming over. And don’t you dare say no, if you were going to.” He hears a laptop slamming shut and the creak of your mattress when he strains his ears. “I’m on my way right now, so it’ll just be a few minutes, okay?”

It takes ten to get from your dorm to his apartment. “Don’t fucking speed,” he whispers.

“I won’t,” you tell him gently. He’s glad you don’t take that as a joke right now. “Promise.”

He shudders a tearful breath and smears his sleeve down his cheeks, which are wet.

The conversation is nearing its end: he hears the thump of a car door closing.

No part of him would have had the energy to turn you down. In fact, spending another ten minutes the same way he has spent the entire weekend looms over him now, encompassing.

“Could you...” Now he’s not only whimpering pathetically, but congested. “…Not hang up?”

“I was just about to say that,” you say. Your engine hums to life. “I can tell you about my weekend while we wait?”

He won’t have to talk, and not about himself. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Sure.”

The rest of the world fades out as you search for topics to ramble about, from your misadventures grocery-shopping on Saturday, to how shrimp-flavored Ramen is actually sinfully underrated, the flood in the laundry room...

He’s much calmer by the time your engine shuts off, but that only makes room for the numbness.

“I’m here,” you say down the other line. “Can I let myself in?”

Instead of getting ready, he forgot to move from his current spot—cuddled up to a fat pillow on his side with your voice set on top—since you got on the road.

“Yeah.” His absent voice is something between a grunt and a whisper. “But it’s… messy.”

Just as your keychain jingles down the other line, his front door down the hallway, in front of the living room, clicks open.

“Are you in bed?” you ask. He can hear you both ways.

Answering that question makes him feel like shit for some reason. “Sorry about the mess,”he murmurs, feeling shittier still, and hangs up.

And his place isn’t the only mess. His hair is a greasy nest of some kind, he can feel his eyes are swollen, and he got snot all over your fucking sweater.

Suddenly, he would rather rot away under these blankets the rest of the night than have you be subjected to him like this.

His bedroom isn’t your first stop. Maybe it’s because he didn’t answer your obvious question, so you’re giving him time to collect himself before he comes out.

Then in the kitchen, the sink starts running. Something clatters.

Are you doing his dishes?

His brow knits. He ghosted you all weekend, and now on a Sunday night he has you doing his dishes. Guilt like a fucking tsunami drags him under.

Yet, it’s still impossible to stand.

His eyes sting, pricked by fresh, unshed tears.

Compared to his usual habits, he has slept ages this weekend. He feels himself drift and doze to the tune of the dishes making small racket, even through the faint whistle of the kettle. It feels unimportant, like background noise.

He stirs though, as the mattress sags by his head. His phone makes a soft thunk as it’s placed back on the nightstand. Something clicks back into the wall.

Those tears from before make their appearance, so he turns his head so his face is in the pillow. His first breath has him struggling; he cried so much he can’t physically breathe through his nose.

Your warm voice chimes through the darkness. “I made some tea. Can I turn on the light so you can drink it?”

His nails dig into his palm. “The,” a breath through his mouth, “lamp.”

Beyond the pillow’s gentle realms, he hears a click before a faint glow invades the dark. A hand floats down to his shoulder, and rubs, but he doesn’t make himself move.

You must have at least some idea of the kind of state he’s in now, yet you still haven't asked the obvious.

You knew Mom’s health was getting worse, unexplainable symptoms for an unknown illness, but not... Not what happened on Friday. Not that he didn’t even get a chance to hear her voice one last time. Not Kenny’s call.

“I’m right here,” you tell him. “Everything’s gonna be alright, sweetie.”

Are you an angel? Your hand cards his wet bangs off his face, and he cringes. He knows the grease doesn’t matter to you, but it does to him.

“I didn't ask you to do all that,” he protests weakly, unmoving. By the shift in the mattress, he can tell you’re reaching for tissues.

They’re precariously balanced on top of the pillow. “Do you want a change of clothes?”

He shudders a sigh without really meaning to, he’s so mentally exhausted. Clearly he won’t be getting anywhere in terms of complaining, so he does the bare minimum of pushing himself up on one arm. Without looking at you, he takes a tissue.

Your free hand is right there, though. He reaches, and shyly takes that, too. When you squeeze, he squeezes back a little too quickly.

A fresh cup of steaming tea waits on the nightstand for him.

“Thanks,” he mutters, head still downturned.

“Always.” You pet his hair down. “I’ll start the shower.”

“Okay.” His voice breaks. “Thanks.”

Properly sat up, he finishes the incredible cup of tea you brewed before you even get back. For one thing, he can’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, and he’s been losing a lot of water. Plus, you’re the only one who knows how he likes it, and… it comforts him in a way little else can.

Once he’s done washing up under the hot water, having stood there long enough for his hands to prune, he changes into the navy pullover, briefs, and sweatpants you brought for him.

Now he idles in the doorway, still not quite believing you’re not an angel. Another steaming cup waits on his nightstand, and you’ve been cleaning up more. His made bed has clean sheets, and the rest of his dirty laundry is gone. You even re-organized his desk.

You look up from your seat at the foot of the bed as the bathroom door peeks open.

Usually, you get onto him for his cleaning habits. Then again, he never, ever cries in front of you.

“Hi.” You smile faintly. “It’s okay. You don't have to talk about it.”

He looks down and away.

“But… can I stay the night?”

“Yeah.”

But he won’t be going to class tomorrow, and he can’t say that a shower and some tea will be enough to shake him out of this. It won’t be. He doesn’t want support like this while you don’t even know why—to him it feels unfair.

You scoot back on the bed, the springs whining under your weight, and untuck the sheets. For how impossible everything felt earlier, nothing could have stopped him from climbing into bed and crawling into your arms.

You both settle down. The blankets are pulled up to his shoulders, which you wrap your arms around.

“I like that shampoo.” You kiss the top of his head.

He blinks mildly. Mostly, he just listens to your heart. “Thank you.”

In the mirror, it looked like he had applied red eyeshadow, the bags under his eyes dark beyond belief. The swelling is a little better after a hot shower.

“I don’t wanna keep you in the dark,” he explains. Those must be the most words he's spoken all weekend.

You wait while carding your fingers through his damp hair.

“It’s Mom.”

“Oh.” The word leaves you like a punch. Your soothing hand stutters, but doesn’t stop. “Is she getting worse…?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t know how to say it. “No. Not anymore.”

Silence.

“Oh, Levi.” You take him further into your warm caress until he’s all but curled up on top of you. Your hand strokes his back up and down.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” you whisper, a touch heavy. “I’m so sorry.”

He squeezes you tight, trying to burrow into your arms, and shuts his eyes even tighter. The feeling that sits in his chest, begging him to cry even more, returns at full-force.

He doesn’t know what to say to that, because it will never be okay.

You offer to email his professors, maybe tell them in person, so he can have some much-needed time to grieve. Even his homework you say you can do, but he turns you down on that one. It’s enough that you just...

“…stay. Here.”

“You have me,” you reassure into his hair. “I got you.”

Enter the event here!

taglist: @ackermandick | @midtwenties-angst | @sckerman | @halloweenmedic | @katty | @jayteacups | @notgoodforlife | @peace-for-levi | @chaotic-nick | @b-o-n-e-daddy | @levisbrat25 | + link to sign up

[redwayfarers]

A long, long line

Fandom: Infamous IF Ship: Swan/Orion Characters: Swan Ellis (OC), Orion Quinn Rating: Gen Words: 684 Summary: Swan wants their morning coffee so very badly. If they could trade their feelings for their manager for it, they would. Nero’s note: Felt like this fic needed to be let out of my google doc drafts. Swan has eaten enough of my braincells for it. Please enjoy my breach into a new fandom!

Someone’s car honks in front, another honks in the back. It’s 8am on a Sunday, there shouldn’t be so much honking, in front of Starbucks, of all places. Childishly, Swan considers adding in a sorrowful little honk of their own - if cars can be sorrowful, which they highly doubt. They’re not using their voice before they’ve had their morning coffee. 

There was no coffee at home, they reason. There was no coffee at their place so now they have to buy the Starbucks one. Why wasn’t there any coffee? Well, they forgot to buy it yesterday. Their phone sits with its screen darkened on their lap. By their calculations, they have about 45 seconds to figure out a logical excuse as to why they’re late for rehearsal. Orion’s gonna be on my ass about this, Swan bemoans internally as they tap their nails against the wheel. The line isn’t moving. Their head is screaming for caffeine. The phone screen is dark and nasty and evil and filled with Orion’s quiet frowns that cut into their very soul.

On the 43rd second mark, it comes to life. Orion’s name clouds the photo of the band, tightly wrapped in a group hug. Their manager’s name sits directly over Swan’s head and they can’t help an aborted, miserable snort. Where are you?, the message reads. We’re waiting for you.

Swan sighs and opens the message. The line’s long, they reply to the background vocals of an annoyed shriek of yet another honk. It’s fucking Sunday. I’m decaffeinated.

Don’t you have coffee at home? Swan can hear the disapproval. It makes them tap their nails of their free hand harder against the wheel.

Forgot to buy it yesterday. 

Irresponsible, if you’re going to have an addiction to it anyway. 

Swan frowns and adjusts their glasses. Vocal parts will have to come later today unless Devyn wants to start before I’m there. I refuse to sing without caffeine in my system. Then, finally, the line moves! They almost drop their phone as they move a few inches closer to ambrosia. Now, it’s only 4 cars ahead of them. They can almost feel the smell of it in the car. 

Be as quick as you can. And do remember to buy coffee next time. I don’t think you guys are making instrumental music. Swan’s joy deflates like a puffed balloon. They hate it when Orion scolds them like a child. All the more since the unfortunate discovery of a little crush on him a few months ago, which has already ended up in several songs they don’t want to show anyone yet. 

Whoever said that having a crush was fun and games lied. Orion would never consider them as anything other than a client, maybe a friend. It’s stupid and there’s no end goal in feeding their hopes of ever getting past that. But there are songs and singing about Orion is miles away from writing breakup songs.

There are three more cars ahead now. Swan has tied and retied their hair into at least seven different types of buns as the lady ordering hashes out her wishes to a barista. They feel like kicking their feet against their seat, but they’ll have to clean it up later. Dad’s always liked a clean car, after all. 

Two more. They reread Orion’s message and bang their forehead against the wheel. It echoes in their mind like a spank. Humiliating, or would be if Swan hadn’t been a dumbass who forgot to buy coffee yesterday. Disappointing Orion feels like the worst possible punishment, perfectly adjusted to the crime committed. 

One more. It’s almost within their grasp. A bald guy’s arguing about his order. Their annoyance is almost as palpable as Soft Violence’s music on the radio. 

When the coffee - delicious, black, bitter, perfect for 8am on a Sunday - is finally in their hands, Swan sighs contentedly. It’s kinda funny how fast it’s gone, considering how long they waited to get it, but they feel revitalized and ready to face Orion's frowns now! 

Mirror in the Creek isn’t an instrumental band after all. 

[everyothernamistaken]

chaos

so like the conclusion of my stupidity, tech week has dawned upon me, it fucking sucks and fuckint hell my father woke up just to yell about random shit why does he do this but anyways so they drafted me to do spotlights, ive nwver done a theater thint and i never will again becaude a decent chunk of the ppl there make me quesrion my sanity but basicly i spendlike 6 hours a day in a box in the celing inhailing probably toxic fumes from rhe light wich burns my hands because it was designed by a idior who must have been blind cause you cant aim it and rhe handles are conected to the several hundred degree loghts so that sucjs, also they never trained me they litterslt sent me up and told me to turn nobs till i know what im doing. Concequently, i might ruin a entire musical! Also chucklenuts mcvehicularmanslaughter was for some unholy reason back which is strange because he moved and got dumped by my ex who i apparently was never going out with, but yeah that was weird but then i demolished those theater kids in music trivia. Then this one girl i kicked in the face like a few months ago kept talking to me, i think i saw her taking pictures of me earlier which is weird but she rambles alot and im not sure how to feel about her maybe its morbid curiosity like she is a small bit nuts(most hyperactiver person ive seen recently) but like entertaining to whitness. Also despite havint no freerime i have to write a amicus curae thing for school and i do NOT want to do that. Also the onlything ive eaten in the past like since tursday (5days) is like peanutbuuter jelly sandwiches beef jerky and cheeze its so im eatin good. Also for like the first time in 10 years i had a caffene becayse my mother doesnt buy coffee with cafeene so like idk i drank tea and then wad hyperactive for like 6 hours and nearly punched a compjter because it was slow i couldnt sit still today but then like ibgot really tired durring being in the box and i rhink the fog macheenes and fumes were getting to be because i nearly passed out.also the box was full of dust when we got it bevause like we were the first to go up there in like a year so we spent 2 houra cleaninf it and my eyes were burning. Also yesterday when i was wating by the door up to the box area, some girl walked by me and in like the most depreced way possible said hi to me which was like reallg wierd because like i think i have pissed off peiple i do not know as opposed to mepissing off people i do know

I dont feel good rn i need a nap nap i need to be snug as a bug i am snug as a bug like on god i am cozy rnbut my hair is wet which is hell, ik some people like sleeping with wet hair but they are also insane so idk

[crystaldwightsworld]

I know its been like 2 years since you updated Nerve so sorry if this is annoying!! But i just finished reading chapter 2 yesterday and today i accidentally found your tumblr account?!?! I'm so shocked, I think it was fate haha 😄

So anyway, I found myself thinking about your story for the whole day. I really love your writing style. I couldn't look away from the screen. You perfectly captured Ashley's emotions, I could feel her pain and her hesitancy towards Leon. And Leon... he's so gentle and tactful. He instantly makes you feel safe.

I just wanted to thank you for writing this, I noticed that you seem a bit unsure if your stories are good (you mentioned rewriting it a lot of times 😅) and I just want to tell you that THEY ARE AMAZING!!! You are very talented and I hope you have lots of motivation and inspiration to write more great stories in the future. ❤

No need to apologise, it's far from annoying. Maybe fate, maybe not, I did link to my tumblr on some of the chapters in my fics (actually went back and linked to it on all of them since I realized I hadn't been doing it lol).

It still baffles me that I get so many comments on the story and messages here on tumblr. You're not the first person to message me about it lol. Baffled because... you're right, I don't think it's that good xD. I know Leon x Ashley is far from the popular pairing but that's exactly why I started the story/ies. Not a lot of ppl write for them specifically and not a lot of ppl like Ashley to begin with.

I'm glad you like the story. I took a BIG gamble on that second chapter, speaking from Ashley's POV for most of it and sprinkling in a little bit of Leon's as well. I'm doing my best to keep them in what is in my mind, in character. Is a lot of it made up and merely speculation? Of course it is, we only know so much from lore and the games. I had thought ppl were going to hate it though, POV chatter from a character tends to piss ppl off for some reason...

2 years... yikes lol. Trust me, I'm just as disappointed as the fans of the fic are. The inspiration is there, stories that I'd like to write, one offs, au's, things that I already have started sitting in Docs, it's just finding the motivation. I've kind of lost my flow recently, IDK why. Nerve has some deep and dark subjects present in the story as well so it's a little difficult for me to write about something I've never experienced or have no experience in. It's a miracle if I can go back to the third chapter and manage to whip out a few sentences. Chapter three has been sitting in my Google Docs for quite some time, along with the other chapters or drabbles that I want included in the story. I've said it before but Leon and Ashley is always in the back of my mind, always on my mind in some form or another. Always reminded that I need to get the next chapter out. The new RE4 remake coming has really rekindled my interest, I'm really looking forward to seeing Leon and Ashley again. I'm hoping for more bonding moments, more banter, idle chatter and conversation. I about damn near cried at the second trailer reveal and game play footage. That spark is back, that nervous excitement you get in your tummy that burns (in a good way) with fluttering butterflies... I cannot wait to see them again lol.

I'm not going to guarantee when the next chapter will come out. I really have no idea. I can't write unless I'm feeling it and forcing myself to do it any other time just leaves me sitting there staring dumbfoundedly at the draft, knowing exactly what I want to say but unable to get it out into words on the screen. I guess... we'll see. I'm not giving up on it though, I refuse.

Thank you for taking the time to write to me. I'm very doubtful of myself and the stories so finding messages or comments from peeps that really enjoy the stories really reminds me that I'm too hard on myself.

To keep spirits up, I will reveal something from the fic but as always, it's always subject to change. I try to give out mini drabbles of things I'm for certain I want in the story.

Chapter 3

“Ashley?” He voices his greeting gently from above, hoping that it wouldn’t startle her. Her eyes peel open, finding Agent Kennedy standing over her in the dimly lit room. She acknowledges his being with a forced tiny smile followed by a pained whimper, the cramps from her period giving her hell. The headache had lessened but her head still throbbed, her pelvic region felt heavy with pressure and she kept sweating due to the frequent hot flashes. 

“You’re up early, graham cracker.” He says, the silly nickname making her grin as her tired eyes fall to the wall behind him. “Dumb question but you okay?”

Her throat is dry, feeling as if it would almost cave in on itself. She forces her gaze back up to his but only for a moment to shake her head no, reverting her stare back. 

“No? Do I need to get a hold of Marc?” Leon offers. Again, she shakes her head.

“No talking kind of day, huh?” 

Ashley had had a few of them and Leon had grown used to them. He knew better to bother anyone when all they wanted was to be left alone. He had experienced many days like that himself. She makes a pained expression, teetering on the edges of wince and bothered before shaking her head no again.

She sits up slightly, keeping the hot pack in place as she moves to the middle of the bed. She doesn’t ask and she doesn’t tell but only reaches her hand out for Leon’s, her fingers folding easily into his palm. She pulls for him, motioning for him to take the spot next to her. He smirks but doesn’t take it right away, the caution and hesitancy hard in his gaze. Her tired gaze grants him permission, tugging his arm forward again. He relents, taking the open spot next to her, leaving one leg to hang off the edge.

“Lay.” She mutters in her sleepy drawl and the request takes Leon by surprise.

“You’re being brave today, Ash.” He comments, watching her pat against the sheets to gesture for him to join her. Against his better judgment, he obliges and takes his spot, turning to lay back comfortably, the warmth from where she was radiating through his blazer jacket. 

Was it a good idea? Probably not. She doesn’t say anything though and neither does he, sharing their quiet moment together, the warmth of her beside him and the dim light of the room pulling at sleep strings he much longed to fall back into. He stared up at the ceiling, nothing but the sound of commercials and her breath meeting his ears. It was… nice. Peaceful.

<3

[like-a-bantha]

Busted Hyperdrive

Chapter Three: Odd Jobs

Summary: Last mission was, well, a definitely a mission. But will it be your last? An unexpected break leads you down a spiral of negative emotions.

Pairing: The Bad Batch & Gender Neutral Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, lots of self doubt and negative thoughts, mentions of canon-typical violence

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Hi! I'm back, and VERY sorry for the wait. This sat in my drafts for close to a year, honestly kind of ironic since this chapter is pretty heavy on the self-doubt. As always, I hope you enjoy! <3

Link to AO3 and my masterlist for chapters one and two

Technically, the last mission was a success. You didn’t feel particularly successful, but Cid got her payment and the freedom fighters of Lothal got their thermal detonators, so by all intents and purposes, it was a job well done. But from where you’re sitting, hunched over the bar with your eyes locked on the drink in your hand that you haven’t touched yet, success doesn’t exactly live up to the hype. The deeper you stare into the purple liquid in the cup, trying to focus on the way it shakes within the glass the harder you anxiously bounce your leg, counting the ripples in a lame attempt to repress the still fresh memory of that morning's meeting.

Last night seemed fine, other than the mission ending rather violently you hadn’t a care in the world. You laughed and spent time with these strange people you’re starting to consider friends, albeit, reluctantly (mostly on Cid’s end). Hunter told you to meet back at the parlor at 0800 tomorrow to see if there’s any work to be done. You walked back to your ship and crawled into bed with a sigh. A good end to a bad day, good enough that the day was ready to be forgotten. Really, if you could just keep going like nothing happened you know you would adjust; you’ve put in enough hours at demeaning minimum wage jobs that you could probably get some sort of certificate in compartmentalizing. You can do it. You just can’t seem to figure out what you need to do to prove you can.

This morning the alarm on your chrono seemed louder than usual and your ships overhead lighting is just a little brighter. The sun rises as the painkillers begin working their magic, giving you just enough energy to dig through your cupboard for some instant caf. You’ve never been so eager to go to work before but you’ve also never been so friendly with your coworkers. It’s not even a five minute walk to Cid’s but you decide to head over at 0730. Just in case, you tell yourself.

The parlor is deserted when you get there. Obviously. Cid must be in her office and you’re definitely not knocking on that door until you have backup, she probably wouldn’t answer anyway, why give the newbie the rundown only to repeat it in 20 minutes? Valid. Too early for Bolo and Ketch, apparently. You kinda figured they were permanent fixtures. Probably could’ve killed time back at your ship rather than sit around an empty parlor, not entirely sure what the plan was there. Now you’re left alone with your thoughts in an unfamiliar place. This is becoming a habit. The time passes quickly, however, and yesterday’s events are tucked away neat enough that it hasn’t even crossed your mind.The way your brain practically vibrates inside of your skull has nothing to do with any ships you may or may not have blown up recently, it has to be from the singular drink you had last night.

Five minutes to 0800 and the office door whooshes open.

“Oh good, Y/N’s here,” Cid announces sarcastically, as you turn to greet her you’re met with five additional faces that clearly weren’t expecting you to be the early type, “you guys can tell them, I got work to do.” 

“Hey, guys,” you say it like it's a question, “knew I should’ve got here earlier, what’d I miss?” They share a look and make their way over to your table. Something’s off and they’re doing a kriffing terrible job of acting nonchalant.

“Y/N,” Hunter says with a heavy sigh and a lopsided smile as he takes a seat in the chair across from you, “good to see you. You’re right on time.”

You try to not look visibly confused but it’s kind of hard not to, why are they being so weird? Everything seemed so normal last night. Is Cid firing you already? You just started.  “So what did Cid not feel like telling me?”

Hunter clears his throat and looks down at the table as he collects his thoughts, he sighs and says, “Listen, we’re happy to have some help around here, and you did a good job on the mission yesterday, but we decided to ask Cid for some light work for the next couple of days. Lay low. Give you some time to recover after yesterday.”

“After yesterday? Why?” You shake your head, now definitely visibly confused, “I thought it went really well!” You look around the group, hoping to no avail that someone would back you up.

You lock eyes with Echo, he gives you a sympathetic look and reassures you, “You’re right, it could’ve gone a lot worse. But you need time to adjust, jumping back in too soon will just burn you out.”

Before you could protest, Wrecker lets out a loud “Yeah!” Laughing loudly, “Been too long since we had a good vacation!”

“It is not a vacation, Wrecker, we will still be doing smaller tasks,” Tech corrects him as he types away on his datapad, “I am making a detailed schedule for the next three days. If we are not making credits, we may as well use this time wisely.”

“Whoa, wait we’re not getting paid?” You finally manage to get a word in.

“We’re still getting paid,” Hunter corrects, Tech makes a face but never ceases his typing, “it’s just not as much as the last job. Lighter work, lighter credits. Cid gave us some odd jobs to keep us busy for the next few days while she finds us something better.”

“Wait, like, we’re getting bottles or whatever?” You ask, “There’s gotta be something we can do besides running errands.”

“Call it what you want,” Hunter shrugs, “it’s still a job. We’re lucky Cid even agreed to do any of this for credits.”

“It’s true, she usually just expects us to do it for free.” Echo sighs, it sounds like he meant it to be a joke but his tone betrays him.

You relent after a moment of deliberation, shrugging, “Yeah, okay, sounds good.” You try your best to put on a smile but you know it looks forced.

“Good,” Hunter nods, you note how tired he looks, “Tech, is that schedule ready?”

“Affirmative.” Tech quickly replies and finally finishes typing before giving each of you a detailed list of tasks while you sink into your seat, hoping the next three days at least go by quickly.

Everyone got to work with their lists of chores, working surprisingly quickly, but you can’t help but feel the time drag. Four hours into cleaning tables and fixing slot games Omega brings you a ration bar and a cup of juice.

She motions you over to the row of barstools, silently asking you to sit next to her while you both take a break from your chores. You sit down next to her, opening the ration bar that you take one look at before resting on the countertop. Omega watches you with visible worry, “How are you feeling?”

The guilt you feel manifesting in anger and sadness, none of which is directed at the girl, or her brothers for that matter. You want to respond but the pit in your stomach is beginning to condense into a black hole of dread. Shielding your pride, you swallow down a lame excuse and opt for a quick nod and whatever you can muster for a smile.

“It’s okay, you know,” Omega looks down, you pray she doesn’t think you’re upset with her, “we’re just worried about you.”

She sounds so sad. You’re sure it’s pity, none of them seem happy to be taking an unscheduled break on your account; no one except Wrecker, of course. But it's clear she’s telling the truth, she’s genuinely worried. “I know, Omega,” you say, trying to force your tone into something more comforting, neither of you are buying it, “and I appreciate it. But I really am okay.” This smile is a bit more convincing.

At least convincing enough that Omega gives a sad smile in return before sliding the now open ration bar closer to you as she hops off the tall stool, “You should eat, Tech said he doesn’t believe in long breaks.”

“Yeah,” You nod, eyes locked on the cup of juice in front of you, “I’ll see ya later.” 

So here you sit. Staring blankly into a cup, silently commanding your reflection in the juice to do something. To fix this. In a sad attempt to pull yourself out of this mood you pick at the ration bar, but after a few bites you just feel sick. Deciding to get back to work, you make your way to the storage room to take inventory for Cid but as soon as you enter the door shuts behind you. Outside you hear two voices approach, stopping a few feet away from the cramped storage room you’re currently, technically, hiding in and you just can’t help but eavesdrop. Thin walls. It’s too muffled at first but after you close your eyes and focus, letting your ears adjust, you hear Tech and Hunter having a hushed conversation.

“I’m sure they knew what they signed up for, I do not understand why you would request to be paid significantly less for them.” You can’t tell if Tech is defending you or not but he is right.

“You saw how they handled yesterday’s getaway. Nat-borns aren’t like us, Tech. They need time.”

“Yes, well, we need credits. It appears they do as well.” You nod as if they can see you. “My point still stands.”

“Credits can wait-” you scoff behind the door and the voices on the other side fall silent. You didn’t think it was that loud. 

Your cover’s blown so why not press the button to open the door to the storage room. The door opens, regret immediately sinking in as you stand there like a womp rat in a torch light, before looking at Hunter, “He’s right, you know. I know what I signed up for.”

“I’m not sure you do.” Hunter’s voice suddenly became very stern, “What happened yesterday, that’s going to happen again and I don’t think you’re prepared for that.”

While you’re glad he didn’t try to sugarcoat it, you can’t help the pain in your chest. You chew on your lip, looking at the floor while you try to formulate a response. “Listen, I know I freaked out yesterday but I’m over it now. Really. You didn’t have to request grunt work for my sake.”

He just stands there for a minute. Arms crossed and brows furrowed as he considers your response. “We’ll see about that in three days.” Hunter sighs, turning to leave the conversation, “Back to work.”

You and Tech are left in a tense silence for a few moments before he pulls out his datapad to check the schedule. “You are currently taking inventory for the supply run, correct?”

“Yeah, I’m on it.” You turn back to the storage room, “I’ll give the list to Cid when I’m done.”

“No need,” He’s still looking down at the schedule when you face him, your hand hovering over the close button. “I will send you the coordinates to the shop and Wrecker will accompany you to carry the order.” You simply nod, shutting the door to the cramped storage room as he walks away.

You set your bag on a shelf and get to work taking inventory. It’s grunt work, and you’re used to it, but this is why you left Tatooine. As you count all of the backup bottles and boxes of bantha nuggets you find yourself back in that mental loop of self-deprecation. You finish typing out the order on your datapad while you walk out into the parlor to find Wrecker and Omega waiting for you. You’re too deep in that mental loop to know for sure but you think you hear one of them ask if you’re ready to go so you nod and silently make your way up the stairs.

The short walk to the vendor was one filled with silent rage. You walked alongside Wrecker and Omega as they debated whether or not each errand counts as an individual mission and, if so, would that mean they just hit the mantell mix jackpot. While you would love to weigh in on such a riveting topic, your heavy footsteps rang loud in your ears, demanding your full attention; the fall of your right foot echoing my, and your left fault. Your body wants so badly to cry and scream, but it was your tears that landed you in this mess, so you keep on towards the shop silently as the debate next to you goes on.

When you got to the shop and peaked in you were surprised to see several people standing in the cramped storefront. You turned to tell Wrecker and Omega to wait outside but they were one step ahead of you, sights locked on the food stall across the street. Luckily the vendor was more than happy to keep small talk to a minimum, you just gave him the order number and before he retreated to the backroom he gave a quick, “30 minutes." Excellent customer service. When you walk out of the shop the food stall you last saw Wrecker and Omega is deserted, you walk into the road a bit more, scanning all of the other food stalls for any sign of your friends to no avail. Just as you’re about to go searching for them you remember Tech gave you their comm channel but when you reach for your bag to fish out your commlink you let out a string of curses. You consider taking the short walk back to the parlor to get it rather than walk around aimlessly looking for them, but just as you’re about to turn back you spot them heading your way, mantell mix in hand.

“It’s gonna be another 30 minutes, did you guys want to-” before you have a chance to finish your sentence, Omega runs up to you with a third carton of mantell mix.

“We got you some, too!” She beams, handing you the carton.

You can’t help but smile as you accept, “Thank you, guys,” you look down at the food in your hands then back to the two of them smiling, urging you to try it, you grab a piece and to no one's surprise, “not bad!”

Wrecker lets out a loud, “You got that right!” The two seem very happy with your approval, the sound of their laughter now louder than that terrible voice in your head and your mood is starting to shift back to something more pleasant.

“Okay, this is really good, but we still have 30 minutes before the order’s ready and I’m gonna take a guess and say Hunter’s not gonna be too happy if he sees us with all this mantell mix,” you laugh, “what’s the plan?”

Wrecker seems deep in thought, still eating, but definitely weighing your options. Omega lets out a gasp, immediately drawing your and Wrecker’s attention, “They haven’t been on the Marauder!”

The port isn’t far from the shop, just a few minutes of walking and snacking. When the ship is within view they practically take off running towards the open ramp, you laugh and pick up the pace. At least they wait for you at the bottom of the steps, Omega gestures for you to enter first with a little ‘ta-da!’ and you climb aboard their ship. They excitedly begin their tour at the cockpit. As you make your way to the back of the ship while Omega tells you about some surprise you have to see, you stumble over a case that was haphazardly tucked under a chair. As you bend to push it fully under the chair so no one really trips, Wrecker begins to panic, “Don’t open that!”

“I wasn’t planning on it?” You finish pushing it, standing to look up at him, “What, more explosives? You really should find a better way to store tho-”

“It’s Crosshair’s.” Omega cuts you off, shifting your gaze to her frown and back to Wrecker, who’s face went from shock to pain. The only sound in the ship is the hum of the overhead lights.

“Oh.” You don’t pry, whoever this was it was someone close to them, and whatever happened was recent by the looks of it. You look down at the case under the chair, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s okay.” Wrecker says, this is the quietest you’ve ever heard him, he shakes his head and his expression suddenly seems less troubled. He lets out a sigh as he takes a seat, crossing his arms, “He’s not dead or anything. Just joined the Empire.” His tone has leveled out, but the way his eyes are locked on the ceiling is setting off the change the subject sensors in your mind.

“So what exactly did you guys want to show me so bad?” You sigh, a tired smile taking over your face as they both look to you with matching grins. Without a word, Omega rushes towards you and grabs your hand as she pulls you further into the ship, Wrecker following closely behind.

You stop at a ladder, Omega looks to it and then to you with a wide smile. You must look very confused, because she points up the ladder as she beams, “That’s my room!”

You grin, stepping toward the ladder, you make your ascent and gasp as you pull the curtain to the side, letting out an audible, “Whoa.”

“Wrecker made it for me!” You can hear their excitement at your reaction.

Glancing back, you see the proud smile plastered on Wrecker’s face. You return your attention to the coziest gunner’s mount you’ve ever seen when you spot a stuffed animal, you reach forward to grab it, “And who is this? Your little soldier has a friend?” You hop down the ladder, giggling, holding the tooka doll by the arms to make it look like it’s doing a little dance.

“That’s my Lula!” Wrecker proudly exclaims before clarifying, “She’s Omega’s, too, we share.”

“I have one, too. Not a tooka, though, she’s a loth cat. Her name’s Jama.” You smile warmly and hand the doll over to Wrecker who immediately pulls it to his chest as one would an infant. Sighing as you laugh, you look around the ship, “I really like the room, I should take a page out of your book. Make my ship feel more like a home.”

The siblings lock eyes immediately, both of them buzzing with excitement as Wrecker frantically nods, Omega looks over to you, “Can we help?”

You’re shocked at first but feel you should’ve seen this coming, left with no choice but to happily nod your head, “Yeah I think that’d be a job for the professionals.”

“Are we the professionals?” Wrecker loudly whispers in Omega’s direction.

“We’re the professionals!” That tense silence a few minutes ago is long forgotten as the two laugh and happily high five. They take you on a full tour of the ship after that, showing off the weapons closet, Wrecker’s special explosives storage, the tally wall next to a bunk in the hallway below deck that Wrecker says are all for successful missions. He happily recounts a few too many, however, he’s halfway through a story about a particularly harrowing fight against a monstrous animal with razor sharp teeth and claws in a pitch black jungle when the alarm on your chrono goes off. 

“Ah,” you silence the alarm, hoping no one noticed how you jumped when it started beeping, “order’s ready. C’mon you can finish that story on the way, I gotta know how you guys took that thing out.” Wrecker eagerly obliges, describing the ordeal in depth the whole way back to shop. The man who took your order pushes out a cart with four boxes and sends you on your way, Wrecker grabs the two largest crates and you hand Omega the smallest, resting her unfinished carton of mantell mix on top of it before you did the same with yours as you grab the remaining crate and begin your walk back to Cid’s. 

As you approach the entrance to the parlor you remember your joke about Hunter seeing the mantell mix and, after your conversation earlier, you don’t want to seem like you’re intentionally trying to get on his nerves. You come to a stop and after a moment Wrecker and Omega do the same, looking back at you, “Hey, Omega. How ‘bout I trade you my mantell mix for that crate you’re carrying?”

“Why?” The girl, confused, takes the mantell mix from you in exchange for the small crate.

“Wrecker and I will bring these down, then you two are gonna take a walk while you finish that,” you laugh, nodding towards the cartons in her hands.

“What? Really?” Okay, Wrecker’s on board.

You laugh, “Yeah, it’s all yours, big guy. Let’s go put these down.” You both start down the stairs when Omega stops you.

“But what about restocking? We’re supposed to help you!” 

“Ah, I got it covered. Used to do it all the time back home.” You shrug with a smile, reassuring the poor kid. She really is worried about you. “Plus, you guys already helped me.”

She looks half convinced but nods anyway and you meet Wrecker at the bottom of the stairs. He’s clearly excited for an unscheduled break and leftover mantell mix. You both leave the crates on the bar, smiling at Wrecker as he turns to leave, “Thanks.”

He’s already rushing for the stairs, grinning from ear to ear, “Thank you!”

The small crate Omega was carrying was mostly stuff meant to be stocked behind the bar so that was quick to sort out. You move on to the next crate, mostly bottles, you leave that behind the bar and pick up one of the last two crates to bring back to the storage room. Just as you’re about to open the door it hisses open and you nearly drop the crate, Hunter, who opened the door, stands before you with a raised eyebrow. You let out a shaky laugh, now that you know they’re all suffering a loss you don’t have the heart to rehash that talk you had earlier.

“You seem on edge.” He shifts in the doorway, not really letting you through, it looks like he’s trying to get a better view of the parlor.

“Just putting these away.” You help up the crate in your arms a little bit, nodding to the storage room behind him.

“Where’s Wrecker and Omega?” He finally looks back to you.

“Oh, uh, I forgot to mark something on inventory,” you lie through your teeth, “they offered to go back out for me.”

He looked like he had something to say about that but dropped it, sighing. You step aside, giving him room to leave and as you turn back to shut the door behind you, you see him heading outside. Hopefully Wrecker and Omega got a head start.

Restocking the storage room went by very fast, glancing down at your chrono you notice you’re surprisingly ahead of schedule and decide to waste a few more minutes in the storage room while you can. You sit one of the crates by the wall and close your eyes, taking a moment to recenter yourself before you take care of the bottles out front. Outside you hear the door hiss open once again followed by footsteps but you don’t bother opening your eyes, why would anyone bother coming in here unless they had to? Then the footsteps stop in front of the door before it hisses open.

“Sleeping on the job, huh?” You stand as Cid reprimands you. “You leave a mess behind the bar and come in here for a nap?”

“Yeah, there’s just something about the smell of wampa jerky that I find really calming.” You laugh, making sure you grab your bag on your way out of the storage closet this time.

“Yeah, yeah, gimme a hand with these.” The door to the back room hisses shut behind you both and Cid picks up the remaining crate, placing it on the counter with a clinking thud. Silently, the two of you get to work restocking the bar. You can tell she doesn’t want to talk but it’s been bugging you since this morning, and at the very least you deserve answers.

“Listen, I know one of them told you,” you say, moving a half empty bottle of shimmery green liquid to the side to put a full one behind it, “but why wouldn’t you try talking them out of this? They’re not your errand boys.”

“You really wanna know? They were just worried about you, after all.” She’s irritated, you can tell by her tone, but so are you so at least you’re on equal ground. “Did you even consider that, maybe, they could use a break, too?”

“Sure, if they need a break then give them a break, why assign them your grunt work?” You grab another bottle from the crate.

“My work is your work, kid,” She looks to you, pointing to the bottle in your hand, “that goes up top.” You roll your eyes, placing the bottle on a high shelf above the bar before returning to the crate for another. “Lemme ask you something,” she says, you put the next bottle in its place and turn to her, “this your first time having friends?” Your eyes go wide, you’re not sure what she’s trying to say but you had plenty of friends at your old jobs. You open your mouth to answer but she interrupts you, “Not coworkers. Or bosses. Friends.”

You think for a moment. Then another moment, and when your eyes drop to your shoes, she knows your answer.

“Thought so.” She says, passing you another top shelf bottle. You almost don’t grab it, just walk out, end the conversation altogether. “A word of advice, when people care about you, it’s nice to care back,” she looks to you, “a little understanding goes a long way.”

“Of course I care. I just don’t want them to miss out on my account, I didn’t ask them to do that, I said I can handle it.”

“You’re not hearing me. You don’t have to ask. They wanted to make sure you were doing alright, they’re not worried about work, they’re worried about you. You got a chip on your shoulder the size of a starcruiser, but they still care. Give and take, kid, give and take.”

She’s not wrong, but you were definitely not expecting to be read so easily. You never saw yourself as an open book, but this conversation only made you feel like there was a giant neon sign pointing to the book that said ‘Read Me!’ in bold, flashing letters. The most jarring part of it all, though, was how warm it made you feel. To be seen. To be cared for. The silence that hangs in the air after hearing Cid’s advice is more comfortable than you’d care to admit, the two of you stocking the shelves as the jukebox plays quietly across the bar.

Once the crate is finally empty, you pick it up and gather the other empty crates before asking Cid what she wants to do with them.

“Just leave ‘em outside, somebody’ll take ‘em.” She waves a hand, heading back to her office.

You nod, making your way to the exit but when you reach the first step, you pause. “So who was it?” You don’t bother turning around, figuring she probably won’t give you an answer anyway. After what she told you, you don’t blame the guys for asking for a break, and the anger toward yourself is starting to subside, too. You just can’t help the curiosity.

“God, you don’t give up, do you, kid?” She sighs, “All of ‘em.” The door hisses shut.

You let out a quiet, warm laugh when you feel your eyes well with tears. Shaking your head with a smile, you propped the crate on your knee to brush them away and made your way up the stairs. You set the crate down and brush your hands on your pants, and just as you begin to let out a sigh a heavy clap to your shoulder nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Hey, we got a surprise for you!” You turn to see Wrecker holding up a crate, and Omega not too far behind running to you from Hunter’s side with a small bag in hand.

“Hmm,” you try peeking into the top of the crate but find it’s closed, a true mystery, “do they sell mantell mix in bulk?”

Omega catches up and holds the small, half-full bag up for you to take. “No, and the surprise isn’t ready yet. But, we did get candy!” You can’t help but laugh before taking the pouch from her. “We ate some already, but we wanted to share the rest with you.”

“Yeah, sorry, we were practicing that thing you showed us!” Wrecker smiles, shifting the crate to one hand to sheepishly rub the back of his neck.

Your smile couldn’t be warmer, “Well let’s get inside, you can put that crate down and practice some more.”

“Do not encourage him.” Tech sighs, but you catch that smirk as he walks past the three of you and down the stairs.

“He’s just jealous,” Wrecker laughs, following Tech into the parlor, “come on, Omega!”

“Good to see you smiling, Y/n,” Echo nudges you as he makes his way into the parlor.

Just as you’re about to head in yourself, Hunter stops you. “Cid tell you?”

“I wore her down.” you shrug, smiling as you turn to face him.

“We’re just worried, you’re obviously capable, but Echo’s right,” he sighs, leading the way down the stairs to join Tech and Echo at the bar, “it takes a toll. This job’s not easy. Jumping in too fast will only burn you out.”

“I am. I mean, as alright as I can be, after taking down two pilots.” You try to laugh but it sounds empty, and the sad smile he gives you in return makes your heart sink. You’re struck with an overwhelming urge to fix it, to make his smile happy, to ease all of their worries. “Hey, Tech, what’s the rest of the rest of that schedule like? Any free time?”

He scans his datapad for a moment before listing off a number of odd jobs, “However, I can reassign some of your tasks if you’d prefer to use this time to prepare for the next mission, mentally, while maintaining a healthy workload.”

“Thanks, but what if we knock everything out tomorrow, then we can all take a day off,” you propose, looking between Tech and Hunter, “y’know for mental health or whatever. Lean into the whole vacation thing.”

Tech looks to Hunter for approval, and Hunter looks to you with an arched brow before nodding, “I’ll get to work preparing an updated schedule.”

“What are you planning?” Echo asks, trying to hide a smirk behind his glass unsuccessfully.

You grin, looking between Hunter and Echo, “What are your thoughts on camping?”

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: CALL ME ICARUS

𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑

<I am working on transferring my old writing to this new blog. In an attempt to not over-saturate my taglist, I will be scheduling these for every other day until I am up to date. If you would prefer I remove you from the tag list until this transfer is complete, please let me know!>

Good news y'all! After not being able to type without putting myself in unfathomable pain yesterday, I finished the first draft of the prologue and chapter 1 for Call Me Icarus! We are currently sitting at 10 pages, or 2,674 words. This will likely be much longer once I go back for the second draft, though, as there are still some parts in these that are literally just <add more> lol

As some of y'all have probably seen, I have also started narrowing down my focus on the characters. I have a hard time creating images in my head, so as I try and figure out what each character looks like I decided to make a picrew of them! This will help me tremendously with keeping descriptions of their attributes consistent as I write the chapters, even though we’ve really only been introduced to Icarus and Andromeda so far.

Anyways, time to get on to the part that y'all have been waiting for! I’ve grabbed a couple of my favorite parts to write and thrown them on here for y'all to see! I am going to put these excerpts under a cut, so if you don’t want to read them you don’t have to.

An excerpt from the Prologue:

… Am I dead?

No. I can feel far too much for this to be death.

I can feel the burning, the agony of my skin melting. I can feel the tears in my vocal chords. The hatred pooling deep in my bones.

What is death, anyways? What will happen when I cease to exist? I can’t go to Elysium, that place is for heroes and those who have done good in their days on Earth. I can’t say I’ve done that. On the other hand, I don’t believe I have done anything to warrant being sent to Tartarus. I may not have lived a noble life, but I definitely didn’t do anything to make me worthy of being banished with the Titans. Maybe, when I appear before King Minos himself he will tell me that I shall spend the rest of eternity as a nameless and faceless being roaming the fields.

Unfortunately, I will have to die in order to know. And so far, that is not happening. Why is that?

And an excerpt from Chapter 1:

“My name’s Andromeda. I have a feeling we’ll be talking again soon.”

Icarus didn’t stop watching the sunrise even as he heard the door to the roof slam shut. Taking in the breathtaking scene, he couldn’t help but think over the interaction with the stranger - Andromeda - again. It seems that things are about to get very interesting from here on out.

After taking one last look at the people starting their daily routines on the street below, Icarus stood up and turned to head back inside. Back to the information waiting for him in his apartment. Back into the cacophony of madness that he has made his life into since leaving the Academy that day…

I am honestly so happy with everything I have written so far!! This is such a mind-boggling experience for me, just knowing that I am writing a book that will be seen by others.

Anyways, here’s the tag list: @/flowerprose @/isherwoodj @/cream-and-tea @/touchingmadness @/lockejhaven @/marinesocks @/wildswrites @/the-finch-address @/writingpotato07 @/leighvalentin @/inkspellangel @/cljordan-imperium @/outpost51 @/alleahgrinnon

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 2

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Much less than yesterday, felt sick and sleepy so barely got anything done. It was also warmer inside today.. Very much dreading summer. I still feel like the people who ~~ love warm weather sooo much~~ must also have central heating and air and are able to escape the warmth, or at least have cool airy houses where they can get cross breezes or something.. I just fail to see how ANYONE could enjoy sweating all day because it's like 75F indoors, etc. grrbb,,, the headaches, sleepless sweaty nights, constant physical discomfort, etc. The next few days look cloudy and rainy though so.. yEs.. haha HA

Got a new charger for my old 2004 nokia phone so it actually turns on now, and recorded myself going through the ringtones and games. I might add the footage to a currently not fully edited video of me also looking through other electronics (old phones, turbo twist math, etc.). I love old ringtones actually and if I were rich, I would love to collect old phones specifically just to have a catalogue of what they're like and all of the sounds they contain.

Managed to have a tiny burst of energy and take photos of 3 outfits before my arms and shoulder started hurting and I got too warm.

Sent email to one doctor.

Translated like 3 words for the Avirrekava poem thing I mentioned yesterday. My language document is not organized very well at all so I've kind of lost my flow of working on it. I've heard about people making searchable dictionary type things for their conlangs, so I'd like to look more into that maybe. As well as making a custom font, though I don't know if that's more difficult for syllabaries (so wouldn't be directly linkable to a plain english alphabet keyboard?? eh?). Anyway, I need to finish the tapestry/painting thing/etc. soon though since I have no good place to put it. The canvas is warping a little just laying haphazardly on my closet floor lol.

Made one quick mspaint background image for the next batch of song snippet things for my jokey music youtube.

Edited like 10 minutes of the Giant Worldbuilding Slideshow Project.. couldn't focus on that either since being at the computer today irritated my shoulders and arms.

Notable sights: Saw 6 baby ducks and their parents swimming in a nearby pond!! It's interesting how their colors seem to change so much, and the young ones have the little spots on their back. Not much else, I was not very active lol..

Goals moving forward: Still working on consistent sleep schedule. Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Plant nasturtiums. Finish and upload videos, edit pictures, post the poll adventure thing that has been sitting in a draft for weeks (I thought I would get it done today, but alas.. I don't even have to do much, just proofread and post it, I just keep having no energy/being preoccupied with other things/hurts to be on computer.. grrr.. I want to continue the story lol >:T).

Notable foods: HAD ASPARAGUS YEaaaaaghhhHHHH!!!!!!!!! Asparagus SQUAD!!!!!!!!!! ... Also a few pieces of smoked gouda with lunch, one of my favorite cheeses.