#but then she realizes it's about someone else

[threadbaresweater]

"Ew. Creeper alert, four o'clock."

Your best work friend elbows you in the ribs and points with her fork to the subject of her scrutiny a few tables away. You raise your eyes as you bite into your sandwich and make eye contact with the guy. You cover your mouth and laugh.

"That's Fushiguro. He's harmless."

"He's staring at me," she insists through clenched teeth. "I mean, he's hot. But...ew." She shivers for emphasis and takes a bite of her salad. "Is he new? I've never seen him before."

"He started last month, I think? He's I.T. He fixed my printer last week and barely spoke a word. Seemed nice enough, though." You shrug. "I didn't get any weird vibes when he was in my office."

She scoffs. "Yeah, but you think everyone is a good person. Doesn't always mean they are."

It's a jab, but she's right. Ever the optimist, you always try to find the good in people, sometimes to your detriment.

"Anyway, I never told you about my date last weekend!" She dives into the details of the guy she's been seeing, but you find yourself drifting in and out, nodding when appropriate, occasionally giving her a wow, or that's crazy when you think she needs the reassurance. When you glance at Megumi, he's looking your way almost every time. He's attractive, you think, if not a little withdrawn and mysterious. You've never seen him sit with anyone else at lunch. In fact, this might be the first time you've seen him in the company cafeteria.

"Can you believe he said that?" your friend exclaims. You try to look surprised in a manner that befits her inflection, but her face falls when she realizes you haven't been listening at all. She looks at you, then looks back over at Megumi. "Is that weirdo still staring?" She fluffs her hair and grins at him, batting her eyelashes. "Maybe he wants me. Ya think?"

You want to throw up. Megumi furrows a brow and stands up to clear his tray, and your friend pouts. "Guess not."

The two of you finish your own lunch a few minutes later and head back to your respective departments. You board the elevator with your nose buried in your phone, and someone asks what floor you need to go to.

"Six, please." You look up and smile and are met with Megumi's brilliant green eyes. "Oh, hey! Thanks for fixing my printer the other day!"

He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. You've never seen him smile, but you think you catch the faintest hint of one when you say thank you. "It's my job," he deflects.

"Yeah, well, you did it well!" You laugh a little to fill the space; a nervous habit.

"Who's your friend?" he asks. "The one at lunch."

You tell him her name. "She thinks everyone is flirting with her. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, I– I wasn't," he says.

"I know."

He won't tell you that it's you he was looking at. He's terrible with that sort of thing. He doesn't know how to be gentle and make small talk, even though he desperately wants to get to know you and has, ever since he spent half an hour in your office last week.

The elevator bell signals your arrival at the sixth floor, and you step out with a little wave and a bright smile. "See ya, Fushiguro."

He half heartedly salutes you, then pushes his hand right back into his pocket. "Later."

[sanguineterrain]

Hey, I love your writing, your Jason fics are always so tender and authentic

I was wondering if you would write something where Reader is pulled aside by someone and asked whether they're in danger (since Jason is pretty big and intimidating) and later they laugh it off because they find it absurd but it gets to Jason and perhaps brings some insecurities to the surface

this is actually devastating!!! thank you for requesting 🤌

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: wrongly assumed abuse and jason being gutted at the idea, hurt/comfort, reassurance, estab relationship.

****

"Chocolate is obviously superior."

Jason sighs, flopping against the diner booth dramatically. "What a shame to be so wrong. Vanilla stays on top."

"Vanilla is boring as hell, Jay," you say, throwing your napkin at him. He catches it. Of course. "On the milkshake hierarchy, vanilla is barely a step above whatever monstrosity a peppermint bark shake is."

"Buddy, I happen to like drinking toothpaste." He points a finger at you. "And that's my God-given right."

"It's an abomination is what it is." You take a long, pointed sip of your shake. "Mm, the taste of good choices."

Jason traps both of your legs between his under the table. You gasp and try to wiggle free, but his strength is merciless.

"If it's an abomination, why is it on the menu?" he asks, grinning as you squirm.

"Well, what else are they meant to serve you freaks?"

Jason gently tugs you forward by your legs. He leans over the table. You meet him halfway.

"This freak appreciates the thought," he says and kisses you.

He tastes like vanilla shake. It's not what you'd order, but you really don't mind kissing it off of Jason's mouth. Funny how that works.

He pulls away and releases your legs, then scoots out of the booth.

"Gonna take care of business. Don't drink my incredibly irresistible shake."

"I'll certainly try," you say, looking up at him with what are undoubtedly giant heart eyes.

Jason disappears to the restrooms. You drink your shake and focus on trying to craft the straw wrapper into a snake.

You're close to shaping it when a woman comes up to your table. You've never seen her in your life.

"Uh, hi," you say. "Can I help you?"

She glances around the diner before leaning down.

"Hey. Look, if you're... in need of someplace safe, there's a great shelter downtown."

Your brows rise. "I'm sorry?"

"I was in your shoes once too," she says, eyes wide. "You don't have to rely on a guy to get you on your feet. Especially someone like him."

You shake your head slowly. "I... what? I don't understand. The man I'm with, he's my boyfriend."

She looks skeptical. You turn to face her fully, because now you're properly bewildered.

"Uh, I appreciate that you're looking out for people, and I know stuff you're referring to is everywhere in Gotham. But I promise I'm okay."

"I know physical intimidation is scary—"

"Whoa." You hold up a hand. "Just because he's a big guy doesn't mean he's throwing me around. He's the gentlest man you'll ever meet. I love him and he loves me. No one is in danger."

The woman's mouth pinches. You don't even have it in you to be upset. You've never once felt afraid of Jason. But you forget how he looks to others, how he's twice or triple most people's size and covered in scars.

"Here's the number to the shelter," she says, slipping the paper under the salt shaker. "In case you change your mind."

She hurries out the door before you can respond. You stare at the card, then shrug. You suppose, if anything, you're happy there are still good Samaritans in Gotham.

Presently, Jason returns. He purposely makes his footsteps heard because of the countless times you've lectured him about scaring the shit out of you due to his habit of going stealth mode without realizing.

"Hello, dearest," he says. "I've returned from war."

"My hero. Did you wash your hands in battle?"

Jason slides into the booth and sticks his hand in your face. "Smell 'em and rejoice, baby."

You take his hand and give it a deep sniff. It indeed smells like soap. Not that you ever doubted your boyfriend's handwashing capabilities.

"Smells like... wrong opinions about milkshakes," you say, then kiss his palm.

He rolls his eyes. "I can see my absence has taught you nothing. Unfortunate."

"I'm stubborn. I'm sure you of all people can understand that," you say, smiling.

"Mm. Y'lucky you're cute."

Your food arrives, the waitress cheerily informing you that she hopes you enjoy your meal.

"I think she's the happiest person in Gotham," Jason says, shaking the ketchup bottle.

You take a fry from his plate. "Probably a Metropolis native."

"Y'know my fries are the exact same as yours, right?"

"Nope," you say. "Yours have special boyfriend cooties on them. Adds flavor."

"You're gross," Jason says, quite lovingly.

You make a heart with your hands. He returns it, then takes a bite of his burger.

You don't even register it when Jason grabs the salt shaker. You're zeroed in on your lunch and don't look up until he speaks.

"What's this?"

Jason's holding the shelter hotline card.

"Oh! Some lady came over and gave that to me."

"Gave it to you?"

You should clock Jason's tone and the way he's stopped eating completely. But the experience was so odd that you can't fathom Jason thinking it as anything but a mistake.

"Yeah. For some reason, she thought I was here drinking a milkshake with you against my will. Probably 'cause it's Gotham, and you're my BBB: big beefcake boyfriend. Little does she know, I'm the heavyweight boxing champion of Park Row."

You swirl your fries in Jason's ketchup. He doesn't even blink. Usually, he'd give you a raised eyebrow and pretend he's cross.

Jason's still staring at the card. You catch his legs with yours. He doesn't look up.

"Jay?" you ask, smile fading. You drop your legs. "Hey. Y'good?"

"Hm? Oh. Sorry, baby." He puts the card aside and smiles at you, quick and strained.

"Everything okay?" you ask.

"Yeah. Uh, fine."

"Jason." You lean over and grab his hand. "What's wrong?"

He swallows. You wait, the noise of the diner fading. All that matters is whatever's causing his absolutely heartbreaking expression.

"How could she think I'm hurting you?" Jason whispers, finally looking at you. "How could—I would never hurt you."

"Oh, Jay. Honey, that's why I hardly entertained her. It was so silly to think about. I was so puzzled at first that I couldn't even decipher what she meant."

"But what if... y'know, maybe she sensed something about me. Sensed violence. I get it. I'd–I'd be scared of me if I were a regular person."

"Jason, sweetie, no. No, no, no. I think that woman experienced some hard things in her life, and that caused her to see something that wasn't there. She had good intentions, but she was absolutely wrong. I know you have a past, but I've never felt unsafe with you. Never. I could never be afraid of you."

Jason gnaws on the inside of his cheek. You get up and slide in next to him, crowding him against the wall. You curl against his arm.

"You love me so well, I forget that most people see a monster when I walk down the street," he says.

You squeeze your eyes closed. Pins in your heart.

"You're not a monster, Jay. You're good. I know it. Your family knows it. You're a protector."

He takes a deep breath. "If–if you ever felt afraid of me, ever, and you wanted me to stay away, then you tell me so, and I'd leave you alone. No questions asked."

"Jason," you whisper. You wrap your arm around his neck and pull him close. The vinyl squeaks as you shift. "Jay, I love you. I don't want you to leave me alone."

"But if—"

"No. Please listen to me. I know you'd never hurt or frighten me. Sometimes, people are wrong. She was wrong about you. She was kind but wrong."

You sit like that for a bit, feeling each other breathe. Jason's hand grazes yours. You grab it, lacing your fingers together.

"I love you too," he says quietly. "Never felt anything but love for you."

You smile and steal another fry off his plate. He snorts.

"I know." You lean against his shoulder. "Never doubted it."

[worldlxvlys]

running

part seven of the CRUSH series

bsf! matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex

a/n -> read the previous part for context !!

ever since the day he apologized, matt had been acting weird. there was a very obvious tension between us, but neither of us said anything about it. his brothers on the other hand, were quick to point it out.

“ok, what’s up with you two? did you fuck again, or something?” chris asked, earning a quick hit and an incredulous look from nick. matt just rolled his eyes, answering with a brief “no”, before turning in the direction he came from.

he was distant and quicker to anger than he usually was. it seemed like the smallest things set him off, he was just so mad. his recent attitude has made me quite distant myself because being around him wasn’t very enjoyable.

he had his moments where he seemed like his usual self, but for the most part, he was miserable. of course i was aware that this was partially my fault, as right after our conversation about the night we slept together his entire demeanor changed.

i felt terrible, and i wanted nothing more than to help him feel better. but i tried to figure out what was wrong, and he just pushed me away. i wanted to be there for him, but he was a grown man at the end of the day. if i did or said something to upset him, he needed to communicate what that was.

so for the past week, we didn’t hang out unless it was with his brothers. we barely spoke two words to each other, and he couldn’t even look at me on the rare occasion that we did. i tried not to let it get to me, but he was supposed to be my best friend. now he couldn’t even be around me ?

MATT’S POV

just when i think i can’t possibly make things worse than they already are, i prove myself wrong. i somehow managed to completely drive y/n away, and now i couldn’t even look at her.

every time i saw her, i felt the shame and guilt eat away at me. i’ve treated her terribly for the past week, and now she couldn’t stand being around me.

at first i just wanted a little bit of distance, because i knew that the second i felt her soft fingers on my face or watched her plump lips pull into a smile, i would be gone. she’s constantly running through my thoughts, and i have no way of stopping it.

every day chris made these sly comments about how i should make a move on her before someone else did, and that pissed me off. his words constantly rang through my ears, and it made me paranoid.

every time she smiled at her phone and typed away at her screen, which was happening a lot more often recently, i got more and more annoyed. i did my best to push it down and ignore it, but it always seemed to make things worse.

whether she was talking to someone or not, she was growing more and more distant by the day. i found myself missing her when she was in the same room as me, which made me realize just how bad i let the situation get.

i decided to go over to her house to talk to her, knowing i had to clear the air. and that’s how i ended up here, standing at her doorstep anxiously, trying to gain the confidence to knock.

before i could force myself to do it, her door swung open. i must’ve looked like a deer in headlights, my eyes widened as she caught me off guard. she let out a chuckle at that, “i saw you on the doorbell camera, i thought i’d just make this easier for you”

well that’s embarrassing. “you saw that whole thing?” i asked, hoping it wasn’t true. when she nodded her head in response, i closed my eyes shaking my head slightly as i cursed myself. “it’s ok, matt. it was cute” she spoke, a small smile on her face.

i felt my face heat up while i prayed she didn’t notice the deep shade of red that my face turned at the comment. “come on” she motioned to the inside of her house, choosing not to comment on my flustered state.

READER’S POV

when i moved to the side to let matt in, i caught sight of a small paper bag in his hand while he passed me. he led the way to my room, pushing my door open and making himself comfortable on my bed.

“i was thinking we do a movie night?” he asked hopefully, emptying the bag of its contents; an array of different candies, snacks, and a drink for each of us.

whenever matt and i had a disagreement, our way of calling a truce was to have a movie night. we would take the time to talk it out and end off the night with cuddles and a movie.

“sounds perfect” i told him, grabbing the remote and moving to sit across from him. i passed him the remote when i felt my phone buzzing in my pocket. i pulled it out, opening it to see a text from the guy i’ve been talking to for the past week.

dylan 🤠

hey beautiful ;)

what are you up to ??

y/n ⭐️

abt to watch a movie with matt !!

“what movie should we watch?” matt asked, but i was barely able to register his words as i read the next text.

dylan 🤠

matt is your best friend right ?? i thought he wasn’t talking to you ??

y/n ⭐️

yeah movie nights are kinda like our way of calling a truce yk ??

dylan 🤠

ohhh i get u

y/n ⭐️

wbu ??

dylan 🤠

oh yk just texting this girl rn

a lil nervous tho ngl, she’s drop dead gorgeous

wayyyy out of my league

“hellooo? you gonna sit there and text all night or are we ever gonna talk?” matt’s annoyed voice pulled my attention away from my phone.

“hold on, i’m talking to someone right now. just give me a sec” i spoke, looking back down to my phone.

y/n ⭐️

who could you possibly be talking about 🤨

dylan 🤠

your mom :)

y/n ⭐️

that wasn’t funny

dylan 🤠

i laughed

y/n ⭐️

well that makes one of us

i watched as the three dots moved on the screen, before my phone was roughly pulled out of my hand. “what the fuck, matt ? give it back” i yelled as he moved it out of my reach.

i quickly moved over to him, climbing over his body to reach for the phone. he was quick to throw my phone onto my carpeted floor, grabbing my wrists before i could move to get it.

“who was that?” he asked, looking up at me. “none of your damn business” i answered. “considering you’re too busy looking down at your phone to talk to me, i’d say it is”

i let out a dry chuckle at that, “now you wanna talk ? that’s new. usually you just bottle up your feelings and throw a hissy fit instead of telling me what the issue is” i spoke, glaring down at him. my phone vibrated on its spot in the floor, but i ignored it.

“why are you trying to pick a fight?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed. “i’m not, this is what it looks like when you act like an adult and talk about things. i know that might be a little foreign to you” i jeered, his face dropping at the comment.

when i heard my phone vibrate again, i went to go pick it up, but was stopped as matt’s hands gripped onto my waist firmly, pulling me down onto his lap.

“look, i obviously hurt you and i’m really sorry for that-” he started, stopping as my phone continued to vibrate on the floor. “who the hell is blowing up your phone like that?” he started, starting to become annoyed again.

“it’s no one” i answered.

“who is it?” he posed his words as a question, but it sounded more like an order.

“nobody”

“why are you lying?” he asked, receiving a sigh from me. he just wasn’t gonna let it go.

“it’s just this guy i’m talking to” i answered. before i could even process what was happening, matt had flipped us over so that he was the one one top.

“what’s his name?” matt asked, his hands tightly clenching the sheets on either side of my head. my eyes trailed down to his tatted arm, watching as it flexed when he shifted his weight onto it.

“his name doesn’t matter” i answered, willing myself to look anywhere but at his lips. it was tempting, the short distance between us making it hard to focus on anything else.

“is there anything you can tell me about him?” matt asked.

“yeah. he’s not confused.” i answered without thinking, the words slipping out before i could stop them. “he’s made his feelings for me clear” i finished.

“his feelings? he’s only known you for…what, a week?” he asked, tilting his head at me. “he knows what he wants matt” i shrugged, “do you?” i asked.

the question seemed to catch him off guard, as he didn’t utter a word. instead, his eyes dropped down to my lips for a split second, jumping back to my own eyes quickly.

“don’t do that” i stopped him, “don’t look at me like you want to kiss me. we both know you don’t” i told him, turning my head away from him.

he was quick to place his hand on my cheek, moving my face so i was looking at him while he spoke. “why would you think that?” he asked, his eyes softening.

“why would you keep running away from me if you did?” i asked, trying my best not to show how hurt i actually was. i blinked back the tears i felt beginning to form, taking a deep breath.

matt picked up on my shift in mood, immediately moving to sit next to me. “fuck, i’m sorry. i’m sorry” he whispered repeatedly, pulling me into a hug. “it’s not on purpose, i swear. and it’s definitely not your fault, the last thing i ever wanted was to hurt you” i cried silently in his arms, his hands squeezing my waist tightly.

he pulled away to look at me, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. “is there something wrong with me?” i asked, needing an answer to the question i’d been asking myself constantly throughout the week. why? why was he avoiding me like the plague? what did i do to deserve this?

“of course not. this is my fault, it’s not you. i’m just confused and i have no clue what to do. i don’t know what i want, and i didn’t know how to deal with-” he stopped abruptly, like he was about to slip up and say something he didn’t want me to hear.

“i just didn’t want to hurt you while i was figuring out my shit, so i distanced myself from you. i know it was wrong, but i didn’t know what to do. and then i realized you were talking to someone and it just made me so mad, but i shouldn’t have taken it out on you”

“you’re jealous? matt, it’s not like he’s replacing you. he’s just a new friend” i pointed out. “i’m right here, i’m still your best friend. and you can always talk to me about anything. you know that, right?” i asked.

“yeah, i know. but are you sure you’re just friends? you said he has feelings for you” matt spoke, looking down as he spoke the last sentence. “is he the only one?” i asked bluntly, tired of beating around the bush.

matt’s head snapped up at the call-out, his lips turning upwards into a small smile. “i-” he was cut off by his phone ringing in his pocket. he looked like he wanted to continue, but i stopped him, “just answer it, it’s ok” i nodded to him, watching him pull it out.

“it’s chris” he sighed out, before hitting the answer button. while he spoke to chris, i heard my own phone vibrate on the ground. i glanced over to matt, who was fully engrossed in his conversation, before grabbing it off of the floor.

i opened it to several unopened texts from dylan, but the last one is what stood out to me;

dylan 🤠

hey, you home? i’m at your door ;)

what the fuck? he knew i was home, i told him that matt and i were having a movie night.

i glanced over to matt, as he hung up the phone. “he was just asking if i wanted anything from target” he informed me, putting his phone down.

he noticed my widened eyes, his face filling with concern, “what’s wrong?” he asked, walking towards me and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“um, my….uh-” i was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. “here, i’ll get it for you” he spoke, walking out of the room before i could stop him.

“wait, matt-” i started, a few feet behind him. by the time i caught up to him, the door was already open, matt and dylan were face-to-face with each other.

“hey, i’m dylan. you must be matt” he almost seemed amused at matt’s confused face.

“hey, baby” he spoke to me, earning a cold stare from matt as he realized who the man in front of him was. his jaw was clenched tightly as he turned his gaze to me, his eyebrows raised.

shit.

hehehe

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nickgetsmewetter @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[uzurakis]

omg i loved the dozing off req so much, you did it sooooo good!!!! would it be too much to ask for geto and nanami's version of it as well?? thank you so much :)

DOZING OFF ON YOUR SHOULDER . .

featuring: geto suguru. nanami kento. toji fushiguro.

n. no worries bb, you ask and you shall receive! geto & nanami’s took place in hs, i also added domestic!toji for a bonus. hope ya enjoy it ! PART1 HERE

GETO SUGURU

"hey, suguru, you with me?" you whispered, nudging him softly.

he blinked slowly, eyes heavy with sleepiness. "yeah, yeah, i'm here," he mumbled, trying to stay alert.

despite his efforts, his head drooped lower and lower, eventually landing on your shoulder with a quiet thud. you swallowed a laugh and looked around. fortunately, you were both seated alone in the corner of the classroom, without anyone else.

just as you were beginning to enjoy the unexpected warmth of his head against your shoulder, the classroom door swung open with a bang, and in strode gojo and shoko, like they owned the place.

"hm? what do we have here?" gojo exclaimed, so ready with the teasing as he spotted geto's sleepy form.

shoko giggled, a candy stick in hand as she pointed it at you. "i bet someone had a long night."

geto stirred slightly at the commotion, mumbling incoherently against your shoulder. you shot gojo and shoko a pleading look, silently begging them not to make a scene. but of course, gojo was never one to pass up an opportunity for some good-natured teasing. "not so fast!" he declared dramatically, striding over to you both with exaggerated steps.

before you could protest, he reached out and shook geto's shoulder with enough force to jostle him awake. geto's eyes flew open, and he blinked in confusion before realizing where he was.

"wha—what's going on?" he stammered, rubbing his eyes groggily.

gojo grinned wickedly. "oh, nothing much, just catching some z's in class, are we?"

shoko giggled again, unable to contain her amusement. "you two are too adorable," she teased, shooting you a playful wink.

geto gave you an embarrassed glance, and you couldn't help but laugh along with gojo and shoko. despite the embarrassment, there was something undeniably adorable about the whole situation.

NANAMI KENTO

the air was filled with the delicious aroma of street food as nanami and you stood by a bustling food cart, waiting for your friends to join you for a much-needed lunch break. haibara, gojo, geto, and shoko had promised to meet you here, but as minutes turned into what felt like hours, impatience began to creep in.

you leaned against the wall, checking your watch for what felt like the hundredth time. "where are they?" you muttered, more to yourself than to the man beside you.

nanami, ever the composed one, simply sighed. "they'll be here soon. patience is a virtue, after all."

just as you was about to reply, you felt a weight against your shoulder and turned to see nanami's eyes closed, his head resting against yours as he drifted off to sleep. you couldn't help but smile at the sight, his usually stern expression softened in slumber. "nanami, are you...?" you trailed off, unsure whether to wake him or let him rest.

then, at the brick of your decision, you noticed familiar figures of your pals approaching. haibara, gojo, geto, and shoko approached with wide grins, apparently amused by what they saw.

"damn lovebirds," geto exclaimed, his voice carrying across the street.

shoko only nudged haibara with her elbow. "nanami has all grown up, has he?”

as they ridiculed you, you felt your cheeks flush with denial, but nanami was still deep in sleep and blissfully oblivious. in an attempt to wake him up without making too much of a noise, you gave him a gentle prod. shaking his shoulder gently, you muttered, "nanami, wake up."

however, nanami did not wake up; instead, he only muttered something incoherently while firmly grasping your uniform. he seemed more exhausted than you had imagined, so you fought back a giggle.

haibara, ever the practical one, seized the opportunity to lighten the mood. "well, since nanami seems to be enjoying his nap, why don't we wake him up with some food?"

with that, he took a skewer of grilled meat from one of the nearby carts and leaned over to poke nanami gently in the side. nanami stirred at the touch, his eyes fluttering open as he realized where he was.

"you guys are here?" he asked, blinking in confusion.

gojo grinned, holding out a skewer of food towards him. "just making sure you're well-fed, nanami. wouldn't want you to miss out on the fun."

FUSHIGURO TOJI

toji was curled up on the couch with his eyes glued to the television, the gentle glow of the device lighting up the family room. meanwhile, you sat beside him, lost in the pages of a magazine. it was a typical evening in your little sanctuary, filled with the comforting presence of each other's company. as the minutes ticked by, you couldn't help but steal glances at toji. his relaxed posture, the way his eyes followed the movements on the screen with mild interest—it was moments like these that made your heart swell with affection.

nevertheless, as the show on tv began to lull, you noticed something peculiar. the remote control in his hand was slipping, his grip growing slack as his head gradually leaned towards your shoulder. you held your breath, hardly daring to move for fear of disturbing him.

sure enough, toji's head came to rest gently against your shoulder, his breathing slow and steady as sleep claimed him.

carefully, you reached over and plucked the remote from his fingers, turning off the tv with a soft click. with the room now bathed in a serene silence, you closed your book and set it aside, content to simply bask in the tranquility of the evening.

leaning back against the cushions, you allowed yourself to relax completely, letting the steady rhythm of toji's breathing lull you into a state of peacefulness. his presence beside you was a comforting weight, grounding you in the here and now.

and as sleep began to claim you as well, you nestled your head against toji's, finding solace in the simple act of being together.

@uzurakis — rqs are open <3

[dulcesiabits]

the birds weep for you.

summary: what does it mean for a bird to live in a cage?

notes: 1.9k words, author's notes, power play, unhealthy/complicated relationships, character + relationship study

i.

The bird flits against the rafters uselessly, wings beating in an eternal circle against the roof. Its small beak lets out distressed chirps, a language lost to human ears. The passing guests glance at it and then pass on, even as it spins uselessly, desperate for an escape.

“What should we do about that bird, sir? I propose we should capture it and then let it out the window. If it keeps going, it’ll tire itself to death,” you say, as cool and unflappable as ever.

“No. It won’t survive if we just let it go.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

“Let’s keep it with us,” Sunday says.

You nod. “I’ll have someone prepare suitable bedding, food and water for it, then. But…”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? It’s a wild bird. It might not be used to living in captivity.”

“It’ll get used to it once it gets shelter and consistent meals,” Sunday says. “That’s a much better fate for it.”

Your mouth turns in a slight, unconscious frown, as if that wrinkle on your face houses all your doubts ready to fly loose, but all you do is say, “All right, sir.”

The soft tread of your steps echo behind him, but Sunday can’t look away, his arms clasped behind his back. The bird is still seeking, just like the rest of the hotel residents, a paradise of its own.

ii.

In the time since Sunday has taken over the Oak Family, he has not once replaced his secretary. 

It’s convenient, for one thing, because you’ve worked for him for so long and training someone else would be arduous. And he also has a fondness for your diligence and work ethic, both of which will be difficult to replace. The two of you work well, and he has no professional complaints to lodge against you.

No, the only complaint he has isn’t a complaint so much as an observation: it’s the way you look at him, the flat mask you level at his face.

At first, Sunday thought it housed your hatred, simmering beneath the surface. He could deal with dissent. But you didn’t act as one would towards someone they hated. Perhaps you’re hiding your appreciation of him, then, out of some sense of embarrassment or professionalism. Also not out of place, considering how the rest of his employees praise his direction and skill.

But the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes neither are true.

What you really look at him with is apathy, a carefully curated distance. You neither fawn nor condemn him, not like your contemporaries. All you do is do what he asks of you, no more and no less, and let no judgment cloud your gaze.

He knows this because you unfurl jokes and levy smiles at your coworkers, speak in more casual tones and quips. But none of that warmth is ever directed towards him.

(And this is the more selfish reason Sunday keeps you close: what will make that mask of your crack? How can he peel back all of your layers until he can feverishly dig his hands into your soft, vulnerable parts? Reading and understanding people is easy: you’re the only one who escapes interpretation).

You’re an excellent secretary, he tells others. He has no complaints over your conduct, and he hopes to work with you for a long time.

(Sometimes, you look at him like you know him. Know his little games, his false smiles, his facades. It sends a little thrill through him, the implicit challenge and understanding of your gaze. Until he can finger all the pieces of your cracked facade, there’s no point in letting you go).

iii. 

Robin spreads her arms like wings against the sky, looking so free it makes Sunday’s heart ache. “Brother, I think I’m going to leave Penacony.”

“Is that what you want?” he presses, heart pounding.

If there is any hesitation in Robin’s voice, then he’ll leap on it and tug on her doubt until it balloons and he can convince her to stay. But she smiles at him, so sure, so trusting, like she has ever since she was a child, snoring in his arms.

More than anything else in the world, he is her oldest brother first and foremost. To crush her conviction here would be the cruelest thing he could do.

“It is. I want to do what I can to help others, and I can’t just do that within Penacony,” Robin announces.

“I’ll support you, then. Just… be careful.”

“Of course! I’ll write every month, so don’t worry!”

Not worry? What an impossible request. Robin is his little sister, a truth so ancient it’s coded in his DNA and embedded in his bones.

Sunday has been there from the moment she first drew breath, has been her eyes and ears when she was still learning to use hers. His little sister, his one and only surviving family. Even if the world crumbles to ash, she is the one person he cannot lose. He can always rebuild Penacony, but he can never build a new sister.

Robin believes in the good of the world, doesn’t see the same hopelessness and despair, the same hollow faces of the people who flee to Penacony for a refuge. Hope, she seems to think, will always bring the light back to their eyes.

What can Sunday do to understand the world from her eyes? Because maybe, just maybe, the paradise Robin shapes with her song can truly exist.

But the other part of him wonders only this: what can he do to keep Robin safe, even when she’s flying through the galaxy to distant planets he’s never seen, beyond his reach?

(Years later, after Robin has been hit by a stray bullet, Sunday will still wake up in the middle of the night dreaming of her blood, his neck aching from the ghost of a wound he’s never received. He will dream about birds falling out of the sky with broken wings, and he will wonder if there are any just gods in the world).

iv.

Like clockwork, you slide a white mug of coffee across Sunday’s desk, steam rippling across the dark liquid with the movement. You’re always efficient. There’s never a wasted gesture with you. 

Maybe he should promote you to a position even closer to him, where the higher paycheck and generous benefits will motivate you and ensure that you feel less inclined to leave. There are innocuous ways to tie you to his side so that leaving him will always be the worse choice.

Sunday balances the cup in his hand, taking a sip as he scans over his paperwork, and pauses, mouth parted in surprise at the sweet tang that cuts through the bitterness.

“What did you put in this?” he asks.

“Sugar. Three cubes of it,” you say.

“I don’t recall saying I wanted sugar in my coffee.”

“That’s because you didn’t,” you say dryly. 

“Then why?”

“Well, sir, you only drink black coffee with clients and members of the other Families. But in private, you always add three sugar cubes to your coffee.”

“How… meticulous.”

“It’s my job to know what you need before you do, sir.”

Sunday takes another sip. This time, the sweetness spreads through his mouth like a silent dream.

v.

Here are the irrefutable truths of the world:

The things that fly out of his grasp are too far to protect. He has to keep them close if they are to be safe. Better yet, under his protection, they will never need to fly and risk injury again.

Half-hearted kindness can’t save anyone. If he wants to save everyone, he has to sharpen his kindness into a weapon. That’s the only way to protect those who are weak in a cruel and unfair world.

There is no paradise to be found in this world. The only paradise will be the dream he builds with his own hands, a haven to everyone who needs shelter. True paradise can only be birthed from strict rules and regulations, to guide those who are lost.

It’s his duty to bear the burdens no one else can. Only he is capable of such a feat. To protect  paradise, someone must bear the curse of knowledge. 

Birds are born alone and will die alone, falling from the sky with no one to hear their cries.

vi.

It’s not love.

It’s not love, because Sunday doesn’t know what such a thing would feel like anymore. 

Is it love because he’s known you for so long, because you know his pretenses and stay with him anyways?

Is it love when he wants to bind you to him in such a way that it marks your soul forever, so that even in the next life he will find you again?

Is it love when he constructs the cage of Penacony around you, restricting your movement to his garden, where you can bloom eternally in safety?

Love, or possession, or familiarity, or desperation, or pulling you close until you have no choice but to look at him, or the urge to break your facade and see it glittering on the floor like shards of broken glass. It all means the same thing, at the end of the day.

(Sunday knows better now. If you want to keep a bird safe, sometimes you have to clip their wings to negate the danger of flying first).

vii.

You finger the golden bars of the bird’s cage, fingers trailing slowly along the metal. The bird tilts its head, unruffled. Sunday drinks in your every gesture, committing it to memory.

“It’s no longer skittish,” you murmur.

“Is that such a horrible thing? It’s gotten used to it.”

“But that means it’ll be harder for it to acclimate to the wild.”

“Then we’ll just keep it here forever. It’s infinitely safer here.”

“It’s your bird,” you say blandly. “I’ll follow whatever you decide.”

Sunday could laugh. Those aren’t your true feelings at all, but it’s fascinating to watch the wrinkle form in your brow, the tension of your displeasure. No matter what he says or does, you’ll always choose the path of least resistance, like a bird gliding in the winds of a storm, pulled along just to survive.

“We can name it if you feel bad for it,” he suggests.

“We shouldn’t name it. Then we’ll get attached more than we should.”

“I could name it after you,” he says, watching your face carefully for your reaction. All your little habits, your tiny tells: he knows them all. How can he not, with how long he’s been watching you?

Your eyes are still cold, but your shoulders jerk back just slightly. “That’s not funny, sir. I’m no bird.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you emphasize. “Now I’m going to finish my paperwork. I’ll report back later.”

You stalk off, and Sunday watches the curve of your back recede into the distance, the ends of your coat fluttering like feathers. A coat that matches his in color, so you’ll always be marked by him in some indelible way. 

Sunday raises a hand and presses his fingers lightly against the bars, the metal retaining only the barest heat from your touch.

Inside its cage, the bird chirps. It might have been a lament or a condemnation, or even gratitude. But Sunday will never know for sure, and the bird will never tell him.

[queenofterrasen418]

FOREVER IS A LONG TIME (Azriel x F!reader)

okay, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a long time. Should I turn it into a oneshot/ series?

Summary: The reader is part of the inner court and knows that Azriel is her mate but can't bring herself to tell him that.

(A/N There's just a LOT of angst or will be if I continue writing it.)

He was looking at her again. The only time he didn’t look at her was to update Rhysand on his last mission. You tried your best not to look at him but somehow your eyes wandered back to him like a moth drawn to fire.

The meeting finished and everyone left except for you and Rhysand. 

“How long do you plan to continue this?” he asked, worry coated his words.

“I don’t know, as long it takes.” your gaze was focused on the golden sunlight that poured from his window

“From what I see it looks like forever.” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “And forever is a long time, Y/N”

“What do you think I can do?” she said finally looking at him. You wished ignoring the feeling long enough would make it disappear.

“He’ll want to know. Tell him, we all saw what happened to me and Feyre.” Rhys was the only person you told about this. He was the older brother you could confide in anytime.

“Feyre wasn’t in love with someone else.” At this point, you were not sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

“Azriel is your mate.”

“And he thinks the cauldron made a mistake with Lucian and Elain. He thinks Elain should be his mate. Not me. He barely looks at me that way Rhys.”

Rhys shook his head and sighed.

“I don’t know why we are having the same conversation for the hundredth time. I told you before and I'll tell you again, I am not going to say anything to Azriel. If I do it’ll ruin everything I already have with him.”

“I know have you at least tried to hint at him?”

“No. And I won’t besides Elain is happy when she is with him and that makes Feyre happy. I can’t do that to her Rhys. She has enough to worry about already.”

Rhys just looked at you as if you were some weird puzzle.

“Both of us know those are just partial reasons. You can’t  bring yourself to tell him but why is my question, why Y/N?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Because I am afraid he won’t like me. I am afraid yet another person who I like will tell me that they don’t see me the same way. I am tired of this, Rhys. Unless he realizes I can’t do anything. Maybe the cauldron was indeed mistaken.” 

With that, you just walked out of the room.

So what should I do??

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 2

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

Warning: physical assault - reader gets slaped on the face

Series Masterlist

Your gaze reveals the precious truths

The beauty that you see within

The bravery that I once never possessed

Your love is strength

Your love is pure

Your love is everything

-Arthur Talbot

You set your quill back into the ink jar and lean back in your chair, letting the ink dry. It's well into the night. Your father and aunt now sound asleep in their respective bedrooms. You find that late nights like these are the best times to write. It's when the world is quiet and you can indulge in your guilty pleasure of writing poetry. You're sure that if your father were to ever find out about this, he'd cast you out.

So your secret remains. Some parts of you felt like you should at least tell Benedict, for he's your closest, and dearest friend. However, you thought best not to. If the ton were to find out, it would be the end of you and you could never be one to drag Benedict down with you.

You can never do that to the man you love.

____________________________

You're in the sitting room watching as stands at Benedict at his easel, Colin and Greggory play chess, and Daphne coos over Auggie. Benedict works on his still life as you sit close by.

He frowns, taking a step back from his painting, "This is wrong. It's-Something's missing."

You lean closer to get a glance at his work, "Benedict, it looks beautiful."

"Are you sure?" he asks with an unsure look on his face.

You stand up and take a better look at the canvas, "Don't you artists always say beauty is in the eye of the beholder?" you look at Benedict with a smirk and then back at the canvas, "What you may find as unattractive, Benedict, someone else might find alluring and lovely."

You pat his arm and then plop yourself back into the chair you previously occupied. You go back to your reading completely unaware that Benedict is looking at you with absolute love in his eyes.

He hears someone clear their throat and he looks away to see Anthony staring at him expectantly, "I'm sorry, brother. Did you say something?"

"We're all going for a promenade. I believe we've all been inside for long enough."

You stand up, "I shall take my leave then, Bridgertons."

"Or you can join us?" Benedict immediately asks with hopeful grin.

You softly shake your head, "I don't want to intrude."

"Nonsense," Kate says as she enters the room, "We're always happy to have you, Y/N," she joins her husband's side.

"Well, I can't reject you, Viscountess Bridgerton," you give Kate a smile and Benedict is confused, "So you have no problem rejecting me?"

You laugh, "I'm only jesting, Benedict. I'd love to accompany you and your family for a promenade."

"Wonderful, let's get to it then," Anthony says, trying to gather his siblings together.

_________________________

You're following Benedict's younger siblings whilst said man was walking beside you. You're walking in silence, but it isn't awkward. Silence in Benedict's presence is never awkward, but rather comforting.

"I've realized something, Y/N."

"Yes?"

Benedict keeps his eyes on you as you two continue to follow his younger siblings, "You've always been very supportive of my artistic prospects, but I don't believe I've given the same curtesy to you and your poetic writings. I recall you enjoyed writing them when we were younger."

It warms your heart knowing that Benedict remembers of the times you'd write whilst he'd paint or draw. You let out long and deep sigh. Looking ahead, you reply, "Yes, well, I've given up those dreams, I'm afraid. You know how my father is about my indulgence with poetry. I have to be very careful. Even reading it and reciting it to the ton is risky. Luckily, my father is inebriated a majority of the time he's out and about."

"Well if you ever decide to return to writing poetry, you have my full support."

You nod, "Thank you, Ben. I really appreciate it."

"Y/N," you turn to your right to see Daphne now walking beside you, pushing Auggie in his pram.

"Yes, Your Grace?" you stop and answer her with a teasing smirk. You're older than Daphne by a few years, but just two years younger than Benedict. You've always seen Daphne as a younger sister, being that you are an only child. Occasionally the teasing will produce itself between you two.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?"

You can't help but laugh, "Of course, but I've been spending my entire day with you already. Won't you all get tired of me?"

"We'd never tire of you, Y/N," Benedict replies with earnest and it brings a warm smile to your place.

"Be that as it may, I believe the Viscount should have the final word?"

Anthony, Kate, and Violet catch up to you as you're all looking at Anthony. He looks at you all in confusion, "Something the matter?"

Daphne speaks up, "I invited Y/N to stay for dinner if that's alright, brother?"

He shoots you a grin, "Of course. Miss L/N is always welcome. You're practically family, yes?" he shoots Benedict a wink and you're not sure why.

"Well thank you for the invitation," you look down at your dress, "But perhaps, I should at least change. This dress isn't particularly dinner attire."

"What do you mean? You look beautiful as always," Benedict states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

The Bridgertons all give each other knowing looks. That's when the Dowager Viscountess speaks up, "Benedict, darling, Y/N is right. After the promenade, we should allow her to freshen up before dinner."

Kate removes herself from Anthony and loops arms with you, "Let us continue our promenade, Y/N."

"Of course!" you giggle with your friend as you continue on the trail.

Benedict moves to follow, but Anthony pats his brother on the shoulder, "You've spent hours with her, brother. Let her take a break from you clinging to her all the time."

Benedict looks at his older brother in offense, "I don't cling to her...do I?"

"A bit, darling," Violet says and Daphne nods in agreement.

He runs his hand through his hair and sighs, "I'm too obvious, aren't I?"

Daphne shakes her head, "No, I don't think so. If you were, she'd have said something, yes? Or maybe would have run for the hills?" she asks with a smirk to her elder brothers, before continuing to push Augie down the path.

_________________

When you arrive back home to change, you ask the housekeeper, Mrs. Burnett, if your aunt is home.

"No, Miss, she's gone to meet with Lady Danbury," the older woman replies.

You nod, "Thank you, Mrs. Burnett," you gather your dress and make your way to your room upstairs.

You freeze when you see the door ajar and you know for a fact you closed it before leaving earlier.

You slowly push the door open and your heart drops when you see your father surrounded by pages and pages of poems. Poems that are supposed to be written by a man.

You gulp and slowly approach him as he sits at your writing desk, "Papa?"

His eyes meet yours in a cold and intimidating stare, "Not only have you still been indulging in poetry, but you're writing it? Under a man's name?"

"What were you doing in my room?"

"THIS IS MY HOUSE! I CAN BE ANYWHERE I PLEASE!"

You take some cautionary steps towards him, "Papa, you've had too much to drink."

"No!" he abruptly stands at your desk, causing you to jump ack in surprise. His chest is heaving as he tightly grips pages of your work, "If anyone finds out about this-"

"They won't! I've hid this from everyone for months!"

"You need to marry," he says with definitive authority.

You look at him with a confused expression, "What do you mean?"

"I can't take your defiance any longer!"

"Defiance?"

Your father walks around your desk so it's no longer a wall between you and he. He points a warning finger at you, "If you don't find a husband within a month's time, I'm marrying you off to your cousin, Albert."

Your jaw drops, "Cousin Albert?! He's absolutely horrendous! He's a rake and a gambler-"

"And looking for a wife!" he exclaims as he cuts you off, "When you were younger, your Uncle Wallace tried to convince me to have you two promised to each other once you came out to society. I regret not taking the opportunity now seeing how you've grown up."

You clench your fists in anger, "Mama wouldn't stand for this! She-

THWACK!

Your words are stuck in your throat, your cheek stinging after your father slaps you. His eyes are red and wild as he spits out, "Mama is dead! She is not here anymore! This is my house! You are to find a husband in a month or you are to marry Albert. Be grateful I'm not sending you away right this moment."

You're holding your cheek now, trying to soothe the pain. Your heart hurts for yourself and your mama. You know she'd hate the man your papa has become.

Without another word, you're rushing out of your room and bounding down the stairs.

Your aunt had just arrived back and you rush past her without a glance. She follows you in concern, "Y/N? What happened?! What's wrong? Y/N!" she yells after you as you run down the street back towards the Bridgerton household.

[copper-16]

First Meetings

Elena attends her first football youth team camp, and meets someone who, though she doesn’t realize it at the time, will become a very important person in her life.

(a/n: I must admit this is probably one my more favorite Elena stories I’ve written, so if anyone has anymore ideas that involve older Elena and this new OC we meet here you’d be my new best friend cause I wanna write more about them 🥹)

The first national team camp Elena was ever invited to was when she was only fourteen years old. The call had been to Ingrid, who was then immediately turning to Mapi with a huge smile on her face. 

Partly because it was their daughters first call up, and partly because it had been Norway who had come knocking on her door. 

Mapi and Ingrid would always argue (playfully, most of the time), about which country their daughter would represent, should she choose the path of becoming a professional athlete. 

And while it didn’t matter in the end, for their daughter chose instead to become a doctor as opposed to an athlete, she did spend a good bit of her youth playing both football and handball, very competitively. 

She had been in La Masia, and showed great promise as a future defender, so it really wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone involved when Elena was selected for Norway’s U16 camp, despite the fact that she was only fourteen. 

And though both Ingrid and Mapi were excited (once a certain Spaniard got over being butthurt that it wasn’t Spain who had come calling), they left the ultimate decision up to Elena on whether or not she wanted to go. 

“Mi sol, at the end of the day the choice is yours. You are allowed to do whatever you would like, your Mama and I would always support that,” Mapi reassured gently, and Elena nodded her head slowly, but she still looked rather unsure. 

“Thank you Mami, I appreciate it, I really do. I just…is there any way I could have a minute before I decide?” The teenager asked gently, and her mother nodded easily. 

“Take all the time you need, there is no rush,” Mapi promised, squeezing her daughter's shoulder gently before the girl slipped away. But instead of heading for her room as the Spaniard expected her to, she headed for the balcony instead.

Elena pulled out her phone carefully from her pocket as she shut the door behind her, staring at it for a few moments before clicking open to her contacts. She hit dial before holding it up to her ear, listening to the line ring before it clicked, signifying that her godmother had picked up the phone

“Elena, pequeña! What have I done to deserve a phone call from my favorite goddaughter?” Alexia practically yelled into the phone, not exactly helping the argument that she ‘wasn’t old’ and ‘understood technology completely.’ The girl rolled her eyes at her godmother's antics, even if she knew to expect them. 

“Tia, I am your ONLY goddaughter,” Elena reminded her, but there was a smile on her face regardless.

“Ah semantics semantics! What is up pequeña, how are you?” Alexia asked, her voice a little more soft and gentle now. It wasn’t exactly a common occurrence for the green eyed girl to call the blonde like this out of the blue, so the former Barcelona captain made sure to seem extra attentive. 

“Oh I’m good,” Elena said carefully, before she went quiet. Alexia didn’t respond, sensing that there was more the younger girl wanted to say. 

“I got invited to a U16 camp, with Norway,” she finally forced out quietly, bracing herself for the former Barcelona captain to gasp, to scream, to get all excited. She had been preparing herself for Alexia to lose her mind, to be so excited that she wouldn’t even listen to Elena’s concerns. 

But it never came. 

“You don’t sound excited pequeña,” Alexia commented lightly, her tone filled with more protectiveness than excitement, and no judgment whatsoever. As much as Alexia wanted her goddaughter to be a footballer, same as her mothers, she cared far more about her well-being than anything else as trivial as her career. 

Elena sighed, fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she tried to organize her thoughts appropriately, in a way that was understandable. 

“I am excited, but I’m also…I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I want to be a footballer, is it silly of me to consider even going?” Elena asked, her insecurity poking through in her tone.

“Oh course you can still go, even if you are not sure. There is no requirement, it is not a contract that states that if you go now, you are obligated to become a footballer,” Alexia reminded gently. Her words were soft, and Elena clung to how secure her tone was, as though she held all of the answers to every problem the teenager had ever had. 

It was one thing for her mothers to tell her, but for Alexia to? It was somehow better, hearing it from her mouth. As biased as Alexia was, because she loved her, she had always been honest with Elena too. 

“Yes but…well there are people like you who are or were SO sure of what they want to do, and would I be taking up someone else’s spot by committing when I’m not even sure football is what I want to do? I love it, I know I do, but I’m just not sure that it’s what I want for the rest of my life,” Elena explained, and it was not a new thought in her mind but it was still hard to say, because she’d never spoken the thought aloud to someone. Not even her mothers, who were inside the living room trying very hard to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping on the entire conversation. 

Mapi was practically sitting on Ingrid’s lap, she was leaning so far over her wife as she angled her body and ears toward the balcony, even if she couldn’t hear much with the door being closed.  

“Elena, for as many people who are sure, there are a hundred more who are not. You are fourteen, you are not supposed to have everything figured out right now. Look at people like Salma, she couldn’t decide until she was practically eighty years old what sport she wanted to do!” Alexia exclaimed, and even though Salma had picked her sport at nineteen and not eighty, it still managed to elicit a small laugh from her goddaughter. 

“You deserve to be there, that is why they called you up! This is a chance for you to go and see if you like it. That’s what youth team camps are all about,” Alexia insisted, and there was a pause on the line before the teenager spoke again.

“But also…what if they don’t like me Alexia? What if I am not Norwegian enough for them, or not good enough at football, or I’m weird and young and I don’t make any friends?” Elena said all in a rush, dumping out the bucket of her worries to be sifted through by her ever loving godmother. 

“Oh Elena. They are going to LOVE you, because you are kind and considerate and compassionate. The rest of it isn’t important, you just need to go in there and be kind and you will make friends, I promise. And hey, who knows, some of the girls there might be international as well! Some of your mothers old teammates have children, many of whom were all raised in different countries,” Alexia rattled patiently, remembering acutely how worried she had been when she had begun to be called up to national team camps. She tries her hardest to tell Elena what she needed to be told when she was a young girl, with nobody to give her this advice first hand. 

“I remember when I was younger, god I was a disaster at youth team camps! I was so awkward and shy, but the girls were still always so nice and welcoming, I didn’t have much time to feel self conscious about it,” the midfielder remembered fondly, chuckling to herself as she thought back on the memory. 

Oh, if only I had managed to grow out of my social anxiety as I got older, she thought wryly, before focusing back on the conversation. 

“And hey, at the worst? It’s only two weeks. Two weeks of just giving it a try, and then at least you can say that you did it. If you don’t like it, nobody will force you to go back,” Alexia promised.

“And you’d still…still be proud of me? Even if I hated it and never wanted to play football again because it was so terrible?” Elena asked quietly, her voice soft.

“Elena, I would be proud of you if you went on to win the Ballon d’Or, or if you never touched a football again in your entire life. I will always be proud of you, no matter what you do. But for the record, I don’t think it’s going to be that bad, but even if it went terribly, I will still love you,” Alexia insisted, and it’s the truth. Years later, when Elena graduates from medical school, it will be Alexia who skips the Ballon d’Or ceremony that she had been invited to present at, in order to sit in the front row with Mapi and Ingrid’s family, screaming when her goddaughter walked across the stage to receive her degree. 

But for now, she is content to love the teenager in whatever way she needs, including when she is just trying to figure out what she wants to do in life. 

“Thank you Alexia. I love you,” Elena whispered, her throat suddenly tight with how grateful she is to have her godmother in her life. 

To the rest of the world, Alexia might be the terrifying former Barcelona captain, one of the best players of their generation, but to Elena? She had always been the woman whose face lit up when she walked in the room, the woman who adored spending time with her and reading stories and gave her the best hugs. 

“I love you too pequeña, always,” Alexia insists, wishing her goddaughter goodnight before they hung up the phone. 

With a renewed sense of sureness, Elena marched back inside with determination and right over to where her mothers were sitting together on the couch, pressed up against one another as they tried to pretend that they weren’t entirely focused on the balcony. 

The dark haired teenager raised her eyebrow slightly at the upside down crossword Mapi was pretending to complete and the fact that Ingrid was staring at her wife like she was trying to memorize the silhouette of her face despite the fact that they spent every single day together. She knew they were just doing their best, and that they were both far too nosy for their own good. 

“I would like to go to the youth camp,” she declared, and both Ingrid and Mapi smiled brightly at their daughter as they nodded their agreement, happy to see that she was so sure of herself. 

—

Ingrid had flown out to Oslo with Elena, but she only stayed long enough to drop her off at the hotel and check her in with the staff members. The players were going directly to training, where parents really weren’t supposed to go, and Ingrid hadn’t really planned to spend a whole ton of time around unless Elena needed her to, for some reason.  

It wasn’t the first time Elena had said goodbye to her mother before they separated for something like this, but it did feel weird to know that she wouldn’t see either of her parents for a whole two weeks. 

She clings to the Norwegian for a hair too long, her grip tighter than it’s been in awhile. She feels young again, much younger than she actually is. Luckily, Ingrid’s love is readily available, and she doesn’t comment on her daughter's slightly desperate grip. 

“You’re going to be just fine, Elena. I love you, you call me if you need anything okay? Your Mami and I will call you once a day at least but if you need us more than that we are only a phone call away. And we can always hop on a flight if you need us!” Ingrid rambled, knowing that when she stopped talking she would have to leave. 

“I will be okay Mama. I’ll be sure to call you and Mami a lot to tell you about everything. I love you!” Elena called out as she finally forced herself away, leaving with one of the trainers to get settled in her hotel room before training commenced in a bit. 

She got her stuff settled in the room, noticing that another girl had already placed her luggage on the opposite side of the room. The green eyed girl wondered briefly who her roommate would be, but she didn’t have much time to think on it when someone came to get her for training. 

She was one of the last to arrive, and therefore by the time she had arrived out to the pitch, all of the girls were starting to warm up. 

Most of the girls are older than she is, standing in groups as they all laughed and chatted in a variety of languages. Elena was generally a pretty outgoing person in most circumstances, but this admittedly made her more nervous than usual. 

A lot of the girls seemed to already have groups of friends, and seemed older than her. It felt awkward to go up and introduce herself to these random people who already had a set friend group. 

She could see Frida and Emma’s daughter Kajsa in a group with a few other girls. Her mother had told her that Kajsa would be there, but the two didn’t know one another, because Kajsa was nearly two years older than she was. 

She noticed a few of the girls were standing by themselves off to the side, and she surveyed them quickly to determine who to walk up to. Most of them looked pretty focused, staring intently at the ball they were working with, clearly deep within their thoughts. 

She clocked Valeria, Marta and Caro’s daughter, but the look on her face is dark and filled with a determination that offsets Elena from feeling willing to go up to her. 

When she turned to her right, there was a girl who looked to be a little younger than the rest, much like herself, who was juggling the ball off to the side of the group. She had light brown, almost mousy hair, and unlike the other girls who were by themselves, she had a bright smile as she looked down at the ball. 

She actually looked like she was having fun, and Elena isn’t entirely sure what makes her feet start moving, but all the sudden she’s standing right in front of her, clearing her throat and greeting the girl. 

“Hi,” Elena said softly as she walked over, a wash of nerves. The girl looked up at her in surprise, her mouth forming a little “o” as she stared back at the other girl. The ball fell listlessly at her feet, and she offered a slightly shy smile of her own back. 

“Hey,” she replied, her voice soft and calm. She seemed quite nervous, her outward behavior a direct reflection of what Elena was feeling on the inside. 

“I’m Elena,” the teenager introduced, and the girl seemed to perk up slightly. She seemed very shy, and if there was one thing the green eyed girl was good at, it was getting introverts out of their shell. 

“My name is Kaia,” she echoed Elena’s greeting, and the Barcelona native couldn’t help the grin that broke out onto her face at the flush that was peaking through Kaia’s cheeks. 

The taller girl's accent was strange, no matter what language she spoke. Her Norwegian was accented, and so was her English, and Elena couldn’t put her finger on it until they were hanging out in their room later that night. 

The two had been selected to room together for the two weeks, so it really was serendipitous that Elena had chosen to go up to Kaia as opposed to any of the other girls who were by themselves. 

They were sitting in their respective beds in their hotel room later that night, when the taller girl turned toward Elena with an air of nerves around her. 

“Is it okay if I call my mums?” She asked, and the Spanish Norwegian immediately furrowed her brows. Kaia clearly takes it as being more malicious and less as the confusion it really is, as the dark haired girl tried to figure out if what she had said was the truth. Kaia had experienced plenty of teasing in her youth from her peers about her two mothers, and she immediately draws back in on herself as a result. 

“Yeah I…I have two mums,” she said softly, but the confusion shifted to her when Elena smiled brightly at her sentence. 

“Me too!” She exclaimed, and Kaia’s mouth flopped open, her reservations fleeing her with the drop of a hat practically. 

“Really?!” The taller girl asked in amazement, her whole face lighting up in relief. She didn’t often meet many others who could say this. 

“Yeah, I do! They used to play on the same football team together, that’s where they met,” Elena explained, and once again Kaia looked at her new friend in complete surprise. 

“That’s exactly what happened with my mums too! Do you want to meet them?” Kaia asked earnestly, and Elena nodded before she bounded over to the other bed, stuffing her smaller body close next to Kaia’s as the girl FaceTimed her mothers. 

“Hello darling!” Elena recognized Fran Kirby by both her appearance and accent in half a second, understanding settling over her. She remembered her mother telling her that Maren and Fran had a daughter her age, but she didn’t know that Kaia would be here. 

Suddenly, Kaia’s English accented Norwegian, and Norwegian accented English were starting to make sense. The accents made sense when she could place exactly where they had come from. 

“Mum, this is my friend Elena,” Kaia introduced, and the dark haired girl watched in amusement as Maren poked her head into the camera frame as well, a big smile on her face. 

“You’re Ingrid and Mapi’s daughter, right?” Maren asked kindly, and Elena nodded eagerly, waving hello to the older woman she had met several times. 

“You guys have met each other before, but only when you were babies!” Fran recalled, a statement Maren agreed with readily. 

Ingrid is equally as excited about Elena’s befriending of Kaia when they call her and Mapi right after, the two girls regaling their day at training in long detail.

Okay, it’s a lot of Elena talking in long tangents as Kaia listens patiently, adding in a few details here and there. But the older girl seems completely content to listen to Elena speak, capturing every small detail and little moment. 

For the two weeks they are at camp, the fourteen and fifteen year old are entirely inseparable. They eat together, train together, and when one of them gets lonely, they crawl into the other's bed to hang out and talk far past when they were supposed to go to bed (neither of them are aware that when they are older, they’ll spend every single night like that, together). 

Kaia followed Elena around almost like a lost puppy, and the dark haired girl happily drug her everywhere she went. It was easy for Elena to pull Kaia out of her shell, natural really, and they clearly fit together really well. 

It’s clear to anyone with eyeballs that Kaia has a crush on Elena, but neither of them are quite old enough to pick up on it. All they know is that they both loved spending time with one another, although neither of them realized just how much until later in life. 

But as relationships usually are when you are young, when the two girls leave camp, despite having exchanged phone numbers, they fall out of touch with one another. Kaia lives in England, and Elena still lives in Barcelona, and the opportunities for them to see one another in person are rare. 

They still follow one another through social media, and the occasional texting conversation. When Kaia gets her first Lioness call up at just 17, Elena is one of the first people to text her congratulations. And when Elena graduates high school, Kaia of course texts her to congratulate her as well, thrilled for her friend. 

But nothing feels quite the same as when they were younger, and Elena tried to accept that. She tried to move on, unsure of why she was so stuck on some two week friendship that, in the grand scheme of things, shouldn’t really have meant anything. 

Or would it? 

Luckily, their distance wasn’t something she’d have to accept for forever. 

—

Elena had just gotten out of one of her university classes when she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket, and she reached down to fish it out. 

The dark haired girl couldn’t stop the shock she felt traveling through her when she saw the name on her phone, and the contact pictured attached, signaling who was calling her. 

It was an old photo, one from four years ago in fact, and it felt like a time capsule, pulling the green eyed girl back to a time of football camps and giggling under the covers with one of the funniest people she had ever met. A time of spending two weeks attached at the hip with a shy girl who blushed when she held her hand to drag her toward the gym, who always passed her the ball even though she clearly wasn’t the best player at camp. 

She stared at Kaia’s picture for so long she almost forgot to accept the phone call, and she scrambled to do so before the ringing ceased. 

“Kaia?” She asks into her phone almost breathlessly, despite the fact that she’s standing still. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she’s not entirely sure why. Her and Kaia haven’t spoken really since they were fourteen and fifteen, and they were eighteen and nineteen now. 

It was too long for her reaction to be this visceral, but it still is, for some reason. She can’t explain it, she doesn’t want it to ever go away, though. 

“Hi Elena,” Kaia says softly, and her voice is lower and more mature, but it’s still Kaia. It warms Elena’s heart immensely, and she smiles despite the fact that the English footballer can’t see her. 

“How are you?” The dark haired girl asked, genuinely curious. She could have picked up the phone and called, she knew that, but for some reason she hadn’t. 

It felt even more strange for Kaia to be calling. Shy, quiet, sometimes awkward Kaia, who sometimes people thought was mean, but Elena knew it was really just that she spent far too much time in her own head. 

Although, she didn’t look all that awkward when she was on a football pitch, scoring goals like she was born to be a nine. She was brilliant, if a bit inexperienced. 

“I’m, I’m good. Really good actually. But I, well, I need your help with something,” Kaia explained quickly, and Elena raised her brow but asked what the striker needed all the same. 

“You spent last summer in Sweden right?” Kaia asked, and when Elena confirmed it, she continued. The green eyed girl had gone to spend the summer with Frido, and even Ingrid and Mapi had come for a few weeks on holiday as well.  “I’m going on loan to Hammarby for the season to get some more experience, and I was hoping you had any some tips on how to get around, or your favorite spots. Or any of the slang they’re using nowadays, it’s been an embarrassingly long amount of time since I’ve been back to Norway, and the only Norwegian I’m speaking nowadays is with Mom,” she revealed, and Elena felt her heart flutter in her chest. 

If she were thinking about it logically, it would be a little suspicious. Plenty of the girls who they played with in the youth teams were actually playing in Sweden, and probably knew much better than Elena did from just a summer spent with Frido in the countryside. 

And there was always the fact that her mother probably knew dozens of Swedes, who again would know better than the Barcelona based Spaniard. 

But she doesn’t care, because Kaia is calling her, and suddenly she has an excuse to talk to the girl who she’s been unable to get out of her head for years. She hadn’t realized until an embarrassingly long amount of time after the fact that it was a crush she had on Kaia back then, but as soon as she had realized she had been unable to let that go. 

Would things have been different, if they had stayed in touch afterward? She wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t matter. Maybe they could be friends now, if nothing else. 

Even if it isn’t going to turn into anything, she’d rather have a tiny bit of Kaia than nothing at all. She doubted Kaia would ever feel the same about her, and how could she? Sweet, brilliant, talented, soon to be famous Kaia, who would never fall for the university student who had little interest in the fame and money that football wanted. 

(Oh, if only she knew that Kaia wanted every single part of her, wholly, completely. She always had, even when they were kids.) 

—

Elena rolled over in her sleep, and unlike usual, there was an object blocking her from doing so fully. 

An object that smelled like jasmine and everything safe in the world, and the dark haired woman instantly turned to burrow into it, clinging tightly to the woman in her bed. 

Strong arms pulled her in tightly, and she blinked her eyes open sleepily to find that Kaia was smiling down at her, before the hazel eyed woman held her face gently in her hands, leaning forward to press a resounding kiss to her forehead. 

“Good morning,” she said softly, before she moved to bring Elena further into her, pressing their bodies together as she had longed to do for what felt like years. The smaller woman allowed her body to be moved easily, wrapping her own arms around Kaia and holding her close.

“You weren’t supposed to get in until later today?” She says in lieu of a greeting, her voice raspy and soft as she allows herself to stay nestled against her girlfriend. It's been over a month since they last saw one another, with their respective busy schedules. 

“I took an earlier flight. I wanted to see you sooner,” Kaia admits sheepishly, her nose twinging with pink as it gives away how clearly besotted she is. Elena’s eyebrows furrowed adorably in confusion as she leaned back to look her girlfriend in the eye, and the brunette reached forward to press her thumb to the space between her eyebrows and smoothing the crease, just because she could. 

“I was asleep! That can’t be exciting enough to move your flight to get in at seven in the morning,” She protested as she looked over at the clock with a wince at how early the time was, but Kaia just let out a small laugh. 

“I firmly disagree, you are completely adorable when you are asleep, and you get all clingy in the mornings. I couldn’t stand to miss another morning of it if I didn’t have to,” Kaia argues good naturedly, and Elena smiles before she presses forward, finally kissing her girlfriend for real. She loved this version of Kaia, the one that was all soft and giggly and gentle. 

It was the version of her that only existed for the green eyed woman, and nobody else. And as much as Elena loved seeing her girlfriend score buckets of goals on the pitch, this would always be her favorite version of the woman. 

“You don’t have to miss it anymore,” the Barcelona native whispered against her lips with excitement, and could feel the curve of Kaia’s own lips as she echoed the dark haired woman’s smile. 

“Not anymore, no. I’m going in at two today to sign the contract and take photos, so you need to help me with my hair and makeup,” Kaia explained, and Elena let out a sigh of relief as she nodded, more than willing to do so. 

After her one year loan spell at Hammarby, Kaia had returned back to Chelsea until she was twenty two years old, when she had made a move to Atletico Madrid for a year. All the while, she and Elena had never lost touch after that initial phone call about Kaia’s ‘Swedish questions.’

While she was at Hammarby, Elena had come to visit her several times (as much as her school schedule allowed), and the more time they had spent together the more the two had realized that what they had went far beyond the bounds of a normal friendship. By the time Kaia was set to go back to Chelsea after her loan, the two had begun dating. 

Elena’s six year medical school program was in Barcelona, and when Kaia went to move clubs to Spain when she was 22, the only offer closer than England had been for Atletico Madrid. The couple had figured that it was better than nothing, and Elena had argued that it would give the Barcelona staff a chance to see how brilliant the English player was. 

And sure enough, she was right, because it was not more than a few months into her contract that they reached out, asking to sign the Lioness after the expiration of her one year contract with Atletico Madrid. 

All of which led them to today, after nearly five years of dating, when Kaia signed her first Barcelona contract, which would keep her in Catalonia for the next four years. 

“I love you so much,” Elena murmured as she tucked herself back into the striker, allowing herself to collapse into the sturdy arms that are wrapped around her. 

The brunette deposited a resounding kiss to the crown of her girlfriends head, cuddling closer to Elena and relishing in the closeness that they never seemed to be able to get enough of. 

And while they don’t know it at the time, they’ll never have to be without one another for the rest of their lives, luckily.

[ratgrinders]

anyways ivy embra post because on god if she wont get the scenes in canon ill imagine it myself

Ivy and Oisin were friends in middle school. Oisin was still scrawny and hadn't had his growth spurt yet and Ivy hadn't yet gotten her braces taken off. They meet each other in some group project or club or whatever, the setting doesn't matter, but what happens is you have these two children with the inherent shittiness of middle schoolers who maybe haven't had the easiest time making friends because their passive aggressiveness is too aggressive, their barbs not hidden. And they act the same way with this new, kind of nerdy looking stranger they meet and find a kindred spirit. All of a sudden you're 12/13 years old with an outlet for all the shittalking about your classmates you want. You stick together like glue, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of you two because they all fuckin suck anyway, and you finally found someone who isn't a wuss and can give as good as they take.

Oisin gets better at hiding it though, being raised by a long family line of evil dragons who have had to hide their connections in plain sight will do that to you. Ivy never lost that edge around her though.

The first day of classes Freshman Year at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy, Oisin's met with this group of randos, they seem competent enough, the tall sad one seems nice enough if a bit of a pushover and the small one with the ponytail seems to have her entire academic career planned out already. She's intent on the name the High Five Heroes, it's a pun, get it? Because there's five of them. But Oisin won't go anywhere without his best friend. He pulls Ivy over, and Ivy isn't having the best luck finding a party (she insults them saying why would she want to join a party with any of these losers anyway, when they're put off by one pointed comment too many). Oisin tells the others they could do well with a fighter, that they're sticking together. The tall one, the gnome, and the kobold don't seem to mind (or don't care), but the halfling seems to have swallowed a lemon. "Well, there's six of us now which throws off the entire point of the name, but that's fine! I don't care!" (she's stubborn and doesn't want to change it).

Ivy and Kipperlilly clash CONSTANTLY. Kipperlilly's specific brand of Type A nerdiness and uptightness clashes horrifically with Ivy's specific attitude of not giving a fuck and chronic need to get under people's skin. And yet, Kipperlilly's barely concealed rage and passive aggression leads that same realization Ivy had back in middle school, of having finally found a kindred spirit. If there's two things Kipperlilly and Ivy have in common, it's their initial impression driving most people away, and their need to externalize this jealousy and bad feelings as hatred and disdain for others. They LOVE gossiping. Ivy's always down to be a hater.

Corsica Jones, the fighter teacher, sees Ivy come in on the first day of classes, bow in hand, and is immediately reminded of the sister she lost, who is still missing. Every time she trains Ivy on her stance, on basic hand-to-hand, she's reminded of the times she taught her sister the very same things. She's worried, because Ivy always seems so closed off and not very engaged, so full of rage. Unfortunately Corsica's attempts to reach out and forge a connection are stopped in their infancy when instead the barbarian teacher takes an interest in her. "Well, at least she has support from someone on the faculty, even if it isn't me."

It's Oisin that kills her. They always go off as a pair anyway, and Oisin may have been acting off recently but who is she to judge a bit of anger. But a quick stab to the back, one Choice later, and all Ivy can think about is rage.

After the Mountains of Chaos, Ivy's disdain becomes Venomous. Suddenly its not fun gossip but outright Hatred, its saying words maximized for cruelty directly to the person's face, because there's a kind of sick vindication in hurting the people who rejected you for so long, even if they may not deserve it. She and Kipperlilly don't get along anymore, snide comments and petty jabs devolving into screaming matches and insults. She proposes the name Rat Grinders with Oisin, because her stubbornness at refusing to change the name isn't endearing anymore, and there are six of them, did you oppose me joining the party that badly? It's a bit funny to see her so worked up over a stupid party name, that kind of earnest childish straightforwardness of the High Five Heroes makes her gag. The Rat Grinders is a funny inside joke, and Ivy is not comfortable engaging anymore without that layer of irony. For some reason, it doesn't feel good in the same way to hurt Kipperlilly like this, it just leave a knot of frustration that rankles in her stomach, because why does she care so much??

When Lucy dies, she doesn't remember much. She remembers the realization at the choice she'd made, and the rage that followed. Afterwards, though, was a deep all consuming bitterness. Of course she wasn't coming back, little miss goody two shoes never had any intentions of following through and left the rest of us with the fallout. She never expected otherwise, and she refuses to mourn someone who did not give enough of a shit about them to come back. She doesn't think about how Lucy helped her bleach her hair, how she braided Lucy's in return. How Lucy's birthday was coming up and she bought her new clothes, how that bag will stay unopened in her room now.

When she dies on the floor of her high school gymnasium, desperately defending every callous insult she's made with her dying breath, her last moments are spent locking eyes with her best friend, who is looking on in horror. She thinks back to a similar scenario, last year, when that same friend saw her dying and did nothing. She thinks back to them in seventh grade, trading childish insults without any real weight. And then she doesn't think anything at all.

[delicatebarness]

i cant read your mind | chapter seven

Summary: Your last few hours in Madripoor.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Major The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Spoilers. Avengers Endgame Spoilers. Guns, Violence, Explosions and Jealously.

Word Count: 1192

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A/N: FINALLY episode 3 is done, now onto episode 4, and boy, have I been waiting for this one. - B

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff | @buckys-metal-arm | @matchat3a | @shadowzena43 | @torntaltos | @honeydew3064 | @scott-loki-barnes

Leaving the bathroom, you joined the rest of your team in the lounge area. As you entered, you couldn’t help but notice Sam without a shirt, your eyes lingering on his defined abs longer than you had intended. He caught your gaze, shooting you a playful smirk.

As you broke eye contact, you made your way to Bucky. “By the way, how is the new Cap?” Sharon directed her question over to Sam.

“Don’t get me started,” Bucky mumbled, answering for Sam. You tensed as Sharon walked over, carrying on their conversation and sitting next to him on the small couch. Their conversation turned into white noise in your mind while you watched them sitting close together.

You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath, as Sharon stood up to make herself a drink, you released it with a sigh. Seizing the opportunity, you quickly sat in her previous spot, itching closer to Bucky. He draped his arm over the back of the couch. You listened intently to Sam and Sharon’s discussion about the Power Broker, flinching slightly when you felt Bucky’s fingers start to play with the ends of your hair. 

You both sat watching and listening to the deal they made, offering leads for a pardon. 

~

Upbeat music played as the crowd cheered and danced around the artwork. Your anxiety heightened as you watched them wave drinks around in their hands, so close to the priceless work. Madripoor was a crazy place, especially since you found yourself laughing and having fun with Zemo. 

After a few moments of dancing with Zemo, you felt a pair of hands place themselves on your hips. Lost in the moment, you didn’t bother to check who it was and began swaying along with them. It wasn’t until your eyes met Bucky’s from across the room that you realized it might be someone else. The intensity in his gaze sends a thrill through you. Instead of stopping, you let a mischievous smirk play on your lips and gave him a wink.

After a few minutes of dancing with strangers and by the tightness of his jaw, frustrating Bucky, you decided to start regrouping with him, Sam, and Zemo in case Sharon got any information. 

Bucky didn’t say one word to you as you looked at the art, or when Sharon came back with a lead, and he never said a word on the way to depot.

~

After taking the comm from Sharon, you entered the shipping container with Bucky, Sam, and Zemo. You stayed at the door with Bucky as Sam and Zemo inspected the inside. His jaw tensed every time you glanced up at him. 

“Bucky…” You tried to get his attention, but as his gaze snapped down to you his nostrils flared. A telltale sign for you to either watch what you say or be quiet. You chose the latter as you began following the men further into the container up to a science lab. 

You stood quietly as Sam spoke to the Doctor, your eyes surveying the lab for any other clues, that was when Sharon’s voice blared in your ear. “Guys, we have company.” Sharing a glance with Sam, your eyes having a private conversation. Once he nodded, you bolted back out of the container to find her. 

Her grunting was the first sound you heard, rushing towards it you helped her to knock out the rest of the bounty hunters. “Feels like old times, huh?” you quipped, a reference to the times you fought together while working at S.H.I.E.L.D. She didn’t get a chance to reply before more bounty hunters showed up. 

After getting the last of who was currently around, you and Sharon ran back into the container towards the men. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here,” Sharon shouted towards them as you reached the lab. 

You yelped at the sound of a gunshot, Bucky rushed toward you, blocking your view of the scene that had unfolded seconds before. “Keep your eyes on me,” he mumbled, his voice only loud enough for you to hear. Doing as he said, you locked your gaze with him as your heartbeat raced. 

Suddenly, you were pushed to the ground, Bucky’s body weight on top of yours as your ears rang, the temperature of the room heightened and sirens blared. Bucky pulled himself up, reaching out his hand to help you up from the ground too. 

Scanning the room, you notice the liquids in the testing tubes start to bubble and whistle around you. “It’s about to blow!” you exclaimed, hurrying after Bucky as he guided the others. He swiftly assisted them back to their feet before he turned to usher you out the door. 

Before you knew it, you were all once again in a shoot-out. Sam and Bucky fought over who was leading, shouting at each other about who was in the right. “It’s in every action movie!” Sam declared as he gestured around him to Bucky.

“He’s never seen an action movie!” You shouted back at Sam, defending Bucky, who had unmistakably exclaimed, as you all left the container, to go on his signal. Just then, another explosion erupted, and Bucky instinctively shielded you with his body, his protective nature over you kicking in. 

“You alright?” He mumbled as the smoke cleared, locking eyes with you as the world behind him blurred into insignificance. At that moment, he was all you saw. You offered him a reassuring nod, murmuring a quick ‘yeah’ to him before you both shot your glances over to where the gunshots began again. 

~

Back on the plane, you sat in silence, reflecting on the events of Madripoor. Gazing out the window, the conversation between Sam and Bucky faded as your thoughts took over. You couldn’t help but wonder how Steve would have handled the situation, and how things might have been different if he just stayed. Doubts crept into your mind about whether Natasha’s sacrifice had been worth it. 

Just then, you felt the presence that reminded you why it was worth it. Towering over you, he watched as you remained fixated on the passing clouds.

“I’m still pissed,” he said quietly. Shrugging your shoulders in response, you tucked your knees closer to your chest. “But, you still need to get some rest.” And, with that, pulled you up from your seat. Taking your place, he gently guided you to sit on his lap. You didn’t resist, nestling into his chest as he traced soothing patterns on your outer thigh with his left hand. His right hand entangled itself through your hair. 

“Is this really for me to rest, or for you?” You asked him, aware from the many nights spent together that he found it easier to relax and fall asleep with you as close as possible. 

“Both of us, Baby,” he muttered softly. His voice was honest as he gently tightened his embrace, his breathing warm against your ear.

Sighing, you felt the tension in your body slowly melt away. His familiar touch and steady heartbeat calm your thoughts, making it easier to let go of the day's chaos.

---

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[mrinafria]

[contains spoilers]

I'm an eternal digger of good narrative techniques. A decent story becomes great in my eyes if the narrative is done right. And it's one of the hardest things to do really, since there's no one-size-fits-all rule for what technique works well with a particular story and what doesn't. One of the primary reasons I keep obsessing over Lovely Runner is its' narrative technique. In all honesty, if it had a linear, singular narrative, I would not be hyperventilating over it on a constant basis (I still would just a certain amount, because both Byeon Woo Seok and Kim Hye Yoon deserve awards for what they are doing). One reason it has managed to knock it out off the park and take the top spot in my forever-favorite list is how wonderfully well the narrative is done.

The primary perspective used in this show is Im Sol's. It's through her we're introduced to the story. Her perspective gives shape to the plot, the characters, because we learn things through her. Her perspective is absolutely critical for exposition. Without her thoughts and way of viewing things, you would never realize why saving Seon Jae means so much to her, or why she would bend the rules and bulldoze ahead when it comes to his safety (exhibit A, her leaving home on the day of the accident, despite knowing about her fate). She'd rather have him alive than have him in her life. Without her narrative, you'd think it's really all about a fan saving her idol (thanks to everyone who'd rejected the script listening to that pitch by the way, I'm grateful we have BWS and KHY as the leads because of that, I would not change it for anyone else). With Im Sol's perspective, you realize, she is not just a fan: she's an ardent admirer, a cheerleader, a well-wisher, a protector, an invisible friend trying to support her friend any way she can, someone who respects Seon Jae, sees him as an idol but also as a human, someone who wants to give back to him the same kindness, empathy and love she had once received from him over a radio call. To her, Seon Jae is first a guardian angel and then an idol, the angel who changed her view of life, made her appreciate things even amidst all that could be wrong with the world and her life. He saved her. Not just on that day at the hospital but every time she struggled and faltered since then, he was there, as invisible as it may have been. So this time, she wants to save him, no matter the price.

Then comes Seon Jae. Oof. If Im Sol's perspective gives the story its beautiful, beautiful shape, Seon Jae's perspective breathes literal life in to the body of the story. The show wouldn't be what it is today if not for his perspective. Without his view into things, Im Sol appears as a fangirl going to extreme measures to save her idol, clinging onto him like a monkey (yes I mean the poster) embarrassing the heck out of herself, making you cringe (in a good, enjoyable way) throughout. Then you reach the end of episode 2 and it knocks the breath out of you because WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN. It all clicks.

All this while we kept thinking Seon Jae was caught off guard and just kind enough to tolerate her antics, and maybe he'd slowly fall for her now, only to realize we were completely oblivious to a whole different side of the story. If Im Sol's narrative draws you in and keeps you hooked, making you root for her to succeed, it's Seon Jae's narrative that makes you irredeemably fall in love with them and sincerely, genuinely, desperately hope they get their happy ending together after all the storm.

And the motifs. Walking/running, for instance. I'll focus on just one scene here. I recall seeing a bts where KHY is discussing the OG 2008 accident scene, and it explains how she has to slow down, while running away, for just a moment, only to be hit by the taxi driver. Have you ever been in a situation of absolute panic, desperation and stress, then suddenly found a familiar face or a name or a thing you could connect to, and felt a wave of relief rush through you? She sees Seon Jae, a person who is calling out her name. Even if she didn't know him back then, the fact that he knew her (and that he had his uniform on), gives her a sense of safety she badly needed that moment. That momentary relief, so visible in her features, then overtakes the crippling fear she felt running in the middle of nowhere with no one in sight in the dead of the night. Her body, already exhausted beyond anything, responds to the relief she feels for those few seconds, slowing down her steps.

And that is when she is caught off-guard and hit. That also might have added to Im Sol's anger at the hospital when she is screaming at Seon Jae, her internal anguish that if only she had not paused seeing Seon Jae, and kept on running, then maybe she wouldn't be hit, wouldn't fall, wouldn't lose her ability to walk. It's one thing to have tropes and symbolic things, but it's a very different thing to know how to use them effectively so they elicit very specific types of emotions/reactions out of people. Lovely Runner excels in that. All kdramas more or less have 'things' that take on different meanings for the couples/viewers. It's the way motifs are used to narrate the story in this one that has me going back over and over again to all the episodes aired so far. These are not just their 'things', these are 'things' that drive the plot forward, tell you about their characters, their personal motivations, what they mean to each other and so much more.

This is getting longer that I intended it to be so will end with this. I feel valued when watching Lovely Runner. And I've seen people saying the same thing. It feels like they respect your critical thinking skills, and your ability to infer, so they don't spoon-feed you everything from the get-go, and you can't predict much despite it being primarily a rom-com. You'd be pulling your hair out (again, in a good way) trying to figure out what they will show next, and you will be somewhat or very far from the truth, which will compel you to think further about the story, the characters, long after an episode has aired...I can't remember the last time it happened with a drama. I love this storytelling.

[myapothecarydiary]

Eunuchs, Value, and Appearance– Brief Thoughts on Beauty and Gender in The Apothecary Diaries Manga Volume 1

This is an offshoot of my thoughts from Ch. 4 of the manga, but it also connects greatly to Ch. 1, so a brief recap of where these thoughts sprung from:

As Maomao and Gaoshun go to investigate the "ghost" dancing on the palace wall, Maomao again reflects that Gaoshun doesn't look like a typical eunuch. Her first instinct upon meeting him was the classify him as a "military man" but because he was in the rear palace, he had to be a eunuch.

Meeting again, she thinks he looks "very masculine" and not "like a typical eunuch at all." In this moment, we get another example of Maomao's understanding of and perspective on eunuchs and gender being challenged. Or do we?

A product of her time and background, Maomao has a very specific and somewhat rigid way of thinking about gender. I think that perspective ebbs and flows, but it is very much informed by the outline provided to her by the society she exists within.

Sometimes, what first appears to challenge the constraints of that outline actually works to reaffirm it.

Gaoshun appearing more masculine and like a military man is not presented in the story to challenge a bias but it is Maomao's first clue that something else is going on with Gaoshun, that there's more to the story. It is not a purposeful reflection on gender by the author but a purposeful piece of a puzzle Maomao is solving within the story.

The same thing happens later when Maomao inspects Jinshi's body and sees it is more muscular than a eunuch's would be. Without further investigation, the presentation of eunuchs that don't fit the stereotype challenges that stereotype, but the truth of the matter actually kind of relies on and reaffirms those stereotypes. Gaoshun isn't just a eunuch and wasn't always a eunuch. Jinshi isn't a eunuch at all. If they didn't seem like regular eunuchs, it's because they are not.

[And if we flash forward to how another character is addressed–Maomao observes that Ah-Duo appears more masculine than feminine, which reminds her of Jinshi. Seems like a great challenge to gender norms, but then Maomao's bias/the binary is reinforced by the fact that Ah-Duo's womb was removed. Jinshi is castrated, thus more feminine and Ah-Duo had her womb removed, thus more masculine. Or so it seems to Maomao...]

And yet, just because these moments weren't included to say something about gender, it doesn't mean that nothing on that topic is being said. And the fact remains that Jinshi isn't actually castrated/a eunuch! So he works to both reinforce Maomao's views on gender and challenge them. Though he isn't actually a eunuch, he still appears very feminine. That is, arguably in part due to the drugs/forms of suppression he uses to assume his eunuch persona and operate in the rear palace, but even without those measures, Jinshi still possesses a great "feminine" beauty. He is sort of a contradictory figure in that sense.

With that, I wanted to circle back to something I noted in chapter 1. I noted that Maomao is "disappointed" when she realizes Jinshi is a man and that his beauty is not possessed by a woman. I thought of this point as contributing to the conversation around gender and around beauty within the story.

I also put a pin in the idea of how Maomao values beauty and recognizes how beauty gives someone value and specifically how Maomao views beauty as it relates to Jinshi–a waste on a man, disastrously powerful on a woman, extra wasteful on a man sans frog (aka castrated).

These fuzzy reflections got some great extra translation-related context from @amiriirish (thank you for that!), specifically regarding the line "A man? That's too bad," Maomao's thought when she realizes Jinshi isn't a woman. A more accurate translation would be "A man? What a waste" or as it is written in the GX version: “'タマナシだけどな…もったいない' which roughly translates to '(He) doesn’t have balls, though. What a waste.'"

I love how @amiriirish describes Maomao's perspective in this moment as one of "a scientist, not wanting to see good genes go to waste" as within the historical context of the setting, a person's purpose is to get married and have kids/keep the family line going/pass on their genes. Jinshi being castrated means he won't be able to produce any beautiful children and so his beauty is going to waste by not being passed down.

I was pretty vague in my initial thoughts, but I meant to sort of hand-wave at these ideas (albeit in a much less articulate way) and though I do think Maomao's sexuality is another interesting conversation (and I personally favor the interpretation of her as on the asexual + bisexual spectrums), I didn't mean to highlight Maomao's attraction to Jinshi during their first meeting but rather her recognizing his general attractiveness and beauty. Love bi Maomao, but I don't actually think she was attracted to Jinshi at that moment. Like with her view of the "wastefulness" of his beauty, she is looking at him like a scientist/as more of an observer than participant.

Maomao's introduction to Jinshi is the beginning of her generalizations about his beauty and how she positions herself as an outsider in those generalizations. Anyone would be attracted to him but that anyone does not refer to her. At least not yet.

Instead, I was thinking of Maomao's disappointment at Jinshi being a man rather than a woman as a reflection of her upbringing in the pleasure district and her familiarity with female beauty specifically.

We don't get a lot from Maomao about beauty or handsomeness in men. Or when we do, she seems even more removed from it. Like it isn't really worth noting. I think this is because she has learned how beauty can function as a sort of currency or tool for women.

Even in the very beginning of chapter 1, Maomao reflects on how a "pretty face" (and a voluptuous body) can lead to a woman rising through the ranks.

@teaflowsthroughthesesims discussed this further in some awesome expanded thoughts:

"In the circles [Maomao] runs in beauty is power, or a means of obtaining it, mostly but not exclusively for women. In her view, it's fitting that the powerful be beautiful, and expected that it be used as a weapon or tactic of controlling others.

Beauty is also tied up in desire towards others. The desire of a customer for a courtesan is due to beauty, the desire of an emperor for a concubine naturally falls on the lovely ones -- and [Maomao's] own undesirability is tied up in her lack of beauty (i.e chicken bones vs. abalone)."

"This is why she immediately sees Jinshi's flirting as a tactic - beauty is a tool to be used. Also, she chooses ways to describe Jinshi's beauty in terms of how it would control other people - 'a nation-toppling beauty' or 'a sex appeal that would drive both men and women mad' (paraphrased)."

"Aside from her upbringing in brothels, this is also probably why it doesn't 'work' on her - she is always expecting beauty to be used as a weapon or tool."

With that being said, I think Maomao views Jinshi's beauty as a waste on a eunuch and on a man both because it means that beauty will not be genetically passed on and because it means that beauty cannot be strategically used as a tool by a woman. But after this moment of meeting, Maomao will soon see how Jinshi, despite being a eunuch and a man, can use his beauty as a tool too. Something she probably knew was a thing already (men using their looks), just something she's not as familiar with.

I think there also remains a curiosity in Maomao regarding the concept of Jinshi as a woman, which we see again later when Maomao can't resist trying out lipstick on him to try and see what he might look like if he were a woman. There's perhaps something self-indulgent in that, as well as something that brings together the world Maomao knew before and the one she is coming to know. Thinking of Maomao as a scientist, it is a little experiment, but though Maomao is practical and her view of beauty is influenced by that, I think she is more than her practicality and pragmatism too.

More thoughts in this vein will surely come once we get to Maomao's reasons for using makeup to add freckles to her face!

[hyuny-bunny]

cybersex | ot8 series

chapter I • chapter III

MDNI (18+): this series will depict sex work and acts of sex. content warnings will include the following for this chapter: mention of masturbation, oral (m rec), alcohol, p in v (no condom / reader on birth control), cum, creampie/breeding, use of pet names (good boy/puppy), threesome, afab reader

genre: skz x fem!reader, use of she/her/hers

wc: 3.5K

Chapter 2

You had stopped by to see Sana at the restaurant tonight while she was having her break. Since you didn’t have an official breakroom, most of the staff would sit in the storage room. You had come in from the alley through the exit and sat chatting away in the storage room. It was far from ideal but the room was quite big, there were tucked away corners stacked with crates no one used that doubled as your chairs. As you caught Sana up on all the moving festivities and the cute downstairs neighbor who always seemed to be heading out as you were coming in, someone walked into the room. You both fell quiet hearing two familiar voices.

“Do you really think it’s her?”

“All the dots connect back to her. Look, she’s been moving into that place all week and it just so conveniently happens to be that KitsuneKitty has been on a break?” You clocked in on Jeongin’s voice, Sana is about to speak but you’re quick to cover her mouth.

“Dude-”

“Hear me out, who else would Sana bring on to her stream? We know what her girlfriend looks like from the other streams. It’d only make sense considering that Sana and Y/N were living up until this last week. Then, after she came on the first stream, she filmed from the same room, two more times after that stream, before doing it in another spot. Besides, do you really think she makes enough here? To live in that apartment all alone?”

“You’re kinda creeping me out with how closely you pay attention to detail.” You hear Seungmin say as they shuffle around in their spot. They were talking about you not even realizing you were there listening to everything. 

“And you should pay attention more. Then, just the other day, I saw a box in the lobby on my way out addressed to her,” Jeongin is abruptly cut off by Seungmin.

“Please tell me you didn’t open her package.”

“OF COURSE NOT… I looked up the return address and it was to a sex store online.” You kick a bag of flour in the corner on accident. They stop talking for a moment trying to see if anyone else is in the storage room. Sana is frozen as a statue, she doesn't dare to take a breath. 

“Look, I’m not saying it isnt her… but what does it good does it do us to know if it is her? What’re you gonna say? ‘Hey, I wank it to you almost every night, big fan of your work’? You can’t even look her in the eye as it is, could you look her in the eyes if she knew how much you-” It was Seungmins turn to be cut off

“Oh don’t act like you’re above it! Your walls are a lot thinner than you think. I don’t know what I’d do though… Probably beg her to use me for her own pleasure.” The conversation comes to an abrupt stop when you hear the storage room door swing open. This time it’s  Minho’s voice that booms in. 

“I have plates getting cold, can you two stop fucking around and run them?” 

“Sorry, Jeongin wanted to discuss his revelations about your little minx. He’s getting too antsy for that surprise stream.” Seungmin slaps the back of Jeongins shirt as he pushes him out of the storage room. The room is silent once more with only the faint sound of Minho talking.

You turn to Sana to find that her eyes have gone as wide as yours. Your head is whirling with thoughts, all consumed by the reality that they knew. It didn’t scare you though, it only added to your excitement. Oh, tonight’s surprise might’ve been spoiled as you had planned a face reveal but another idea had come to mind. Instead, you toyed with the idea of what Jeongin had said. You pull out your phone to text the two of them.

“What’re you doing? Are you okay? I’m so sorry I should have never told those two idiots about my stream I just didn’t even think they were sober enough to remember let alone watch.” Sana asked worriedly, there’s a fear inside of her bubbling over, that she would be the reason you felt violated.

“This isn’t your fault! I’m fine really, I don’t mind at all. I’m a little surprised I guess but I knew the risk I was taking. Besides, I’m a little surprised that they would even begin to pay that much attention.” You say grabbing Sana by both arms to reassure her that you are more than okay. There was nothing to be upset about truthfully, you were flattered that they watched your streams. “Now, I think I owe my little detectives a surprise for figuring it out.

You: hey! do you two want to come by my place for some drinks tonight? i have a surprise for you both :3

Jeongin: sure! we’re both working rn but i’ll pick something up on the way :) 

Seung: sweeeet, whats the surprise?

You: it’s nothing really but its really something you’ll love!

They took the bait so easily it was almost comical, Sana was leaning over your shoulder watching your texts. 

“Oh you are a little minx, aren’t you? I think Mina and I will have to watch this tonight.”

—

You had set the room up for tonight's show, this room had been your best surprise yet. The windows were covered by white floor-to-ceiling drapes, tied with black ribbon and embroidered with delicate flowers. You had left the hardwood exposed, opting for a white fur throw rug in place moving it in or out of the way depending on the occasion. The bed was centered in the room, it was covered by silk pink sheets, a lacey pink comforter, white throw blankets, and an assortment of pillows in all shapes and sizes. The room was dimly with your led light bulbs, offering a soft pink glow to the room, it seemed like a sweet and coquettish room aside from the bookshelf lined with vibrators, dildos, and other assorted sex toys. 

You had prepped yourself like you normally had for these streams, the makeup was always fairly simple. A smooth base with glowy skin, the perfect shade of blush that made you look flushed, an eye shadow look that held more emphasis on the strategically placed shimmers that captured like diamonds with light reflections, and the mauve shade of lipstain that made your lips look pouty and bitten. You put on a matching black two-piece set under your inconspicuous outfit consisting of a grey sweater and black shorts that were a tighter fit, topped with a pair of black over-the-knee socks. The stream was set to start at 11 pm and your boys had arrived at 10 pm on the dot.

You opened the door with a gleeful smile, welcoming them in. They both wore t-shirts with sweats, and both had a cologne that wafted in the room. While you had never felt any crushing feelings for the two of them, there was no denying how cute they were. They were cute in the way that gets a girl giddy when she sees her waiter is this hot and their sweet mannerisms just added to the effect. You asked them how their day was as you pulled out some snacks for the beer they had brought over. You all sat on the floor surrounding the coffee table, the buzz slowly crept up on you.

“Mm so what was our surprise?” Seungmin asked as he took a sip of his drink. Jeongin had been frequently checking his phone, it was almost time. You had decided that now was as good of a time as any. There was still about 10 minutes from the countdown, that left the perfect amount of time to see if your plan would go as you wanted.

“You sure you want it now? Jeongin seems a little antsy, are you sure you want the surprise right now?” You smile to the both of them letting your eye contact linger on Jeongin a little longer, his lip bitten by his teeth.

‘Oh uh, um, yeah sorry I just was, uh, waiting for something.” He says before locking his phone once more and setting it down on the coffee table. You wink at him before telling them to follow you to the surprise, not missing the way Seungmin cocks a brow in surprise, and Jeongin’s cheeks flush pink. You walk down the hall to the two of them in toe, before you reach the door, you look up to the two of them with a warning. 

“You can refuse your surprise if you want, it’s no fun if you don’t want it got it?” They both shake their heads quickly like puppies before sparing a glance to each other. You open the door instructing them to sit in front of the screen, once the door is closed behind you, there's an internal flip switch for you.

 “I was thinking long and hard about what you said, and really, it warms my heart to know you two watch me to get off.” The tops of their cheeks are burning as they sit cross-legged staring at you sink to your knees, crawling over to them on all fours before stopping between the two of them. 

“And I thought that there was no better to reward you two for being so supportive of me then to return the favor? Hmm? I mean hearing you say you’d let me use Jeongin, got me so wet I had to come straight home and touch myself to the thought.” You notice the strain in their pants is growing, you feel yourself getting hotter when you lean forward resting your hands on the tops of their thighs. 

“You’ll let me use tonight, right, Jeongin? You’ve been such a good boy waiting for my return, you want to make me happy mm?” You say rubbing your hand up his thigh to where you can see the outline of his cock imprinting his sweats, he nods yes and whimpers when you brush your hands just across his boner. “Poor baby, can’t even use your words and I haven’t even started. I need to hear you say yes.”

“Y-yes, p-please.” You pull him into a kiss by his shirt muttering good boy and letting him lean back. You turn to Seungmin, his eyes are blown out staring at the hand resting on his thigh. You pick his chin up to make him look you in the eyes. His big brown puppy eyes stare at you, if it wasn’t for the waiting audience of viewers you would’ve pounced on the two of them already.

“You too puppy? I can’t touch you unless you say you want me to.”

“Yes.” Seungmin says almost above a whisper. You lean forward planting a sweet kiss on his lips as well. 

You swiftly stand up stripping yourself of the shorts and sweater, reaching for your mask before pressing the button to begin the stream. The chat is pouring with comments about where you’ve been, the new set up and most importantly your two guests. You giggle at some of the comments that already begging them to strip.

“You’re all gonna have to be warm and welcoming to my two guests okay? They’ve been some long-time supporters of mine and I have to show my gratitude in so my way right?” You say taking notice of the two boys palming themselves from the monitor. “Can my puppies strip for me?”

Any thoughts the two of them have ever shared are out the window, they both are pulling their shirts off, ridding themselves of all clothes til they're down to their underwear. You instruct them both to stay standing up, you look back at the monitor catching a glimpse of what everyone else was watching. You bite your lip looking at the monitor rubbing their hard on’s over their underwear, while stroking Seungmin, you pull Jeongin in close to you, reaching up to grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth pulling them down just until hit his knees. His thighs shiver and the feeling of your mouth so close to where he needed it. He kept his arms and hands behind his back unsure of what to do with them, he stepped out of the underwear where you returned to Seungmin to do the same. They’re both much bigger than you expected which only sends a rush of wetness into the spot in your panties that's already soaking through. 

You take Seungmin into your mouth looking up at him, he’s looking down at you with his jaw slack and moans slipping past his lips while you take as much of him into your mouth. You feels so warm and wet around him, he cant help the way his cock twitches when you moan so heavily around his cock. He forces himself to keep his hands at his sides while you work your mouth on him but the idea of taking a fistful of your and rutting himself into your mouth is tantalizing. Jeongin watches in awe looking up at his roommate's fucked expression, he waits like the good boy he is. Your hand still stroking him, his tip angry pink with drops of precum beading at the tip. The movement of your mouth against Seungmin gets sloppier as you leave your spit and saliva covered all over his cock, you feel him getting closer to cumming with the way he twitches in your mouth. You pull off him and he whines out at the loss, his cock twitching while you keep pumping ever so slowly.

“Such good boys aren’t they? Do we think they should cum yet?” You say while moving to Jeongin to bring him into your mouth next, he almost cums when your tongue makes contact. There’s a large donation thats sent to you that reads off a message

$1000 donation from hyjnny “let the one in your mouth fuck you doggy since he’s such a good dog”

You let him out of your mouth with a pop and smile looking back at the camera, thanking the donor. Your legs feel weak at the thought of letting Jeongin take you from behind. You continue to make sloppy wet noises against his cock, taking him as far down your throat before gagging and going back in once more. He watches with eyes wide, it feels like a dream to watch you take him down your throat. He was always shy with his size, too many of his partners complained that it wasn’t pleasurable so the idea of not only being so far down your throat but to fuck you in front of the thousands of people watching wanted to make him cry cumming.

Seungmin is starting to thrust into your hand as most of your focus is on Jeongin fitting in your mouth. He’s erratically fucking into the makeshift hole that is your hand, letting some of his own spit dribble out. You finally pull off Jeongin, and a line spit connecting your mouth to his cock stays between you two. You instruct them to kneel now once more in front of the camera, you align them to face each other with you in between, you lean into kiss Seugmin and place Jeongins hands on your tits. They’re both squishing you between them, Jeongin focused on groping your tits and ridding you of your bra. Seungmin’s hand dives to firmly grip your neck in his hand while Jeongin humps you over your underwear from behind. The room fills with the sound of wet kisses and breathy moans. You pull Seunmin off your mouth and pull your panties off to leave you in nothing but your socks. Another donation pings,

$500 donation from 97ddynahc “suck the brunette off while the other fucks you from behind, let them both breed your holes” 

Your pussy dripped with the need for the two of them, to take them both at the same time was going to take a lot to not orgasm at the first movement. You let Jeongin guide your hips in place, his tip swiping at your entrance and nudging your clit sending a chill through you and a gasp. 

“Let me know if it’s too much okay? I know I’m on the bigger side and its uncomfortable for some people,” Jeongin says in small voice, hes terrified of hurting.”

“I promise, puppy.” Every time you called them ‘good boy’ or ‘puppy’ it only made Jeongin want to fuck the sweetness out of you until you could only beg. He slides in letting you adjust to him before moving. He fills you up, you feel every inch and ridge inside of you as he rocks his hips back in forth. You thighs shake wanting to just squirt all over his cock in that moment.

“Jeongin, ah, please.. Go harder please,” Your whimpers sound like music to them, it doesn’t take long for him to pick up the pace, slamming his hips down into you while Seungmin grabs your face to do the same. Seungmin takes hold of your head, creating a makeshift ponytail as he begins fucking your mouth, he’s big. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, the motion of the two of you only forces you to take Seungmin even further down your throat.

Jeongin can't help himself, he’s so entrapped with the way your ass moves with every slam of his hips. He adjusts your hips to pick up more speed and hits that spongey spot inside you, the new angle causes you to moan vibrating against Seungmins cock. It felt so dirty to be used the way you were at this very moment but it only made you clench around Jeongins cock. They both are panting and grunting with every thrust, skin slapping against skin. You feel your orgasm approaching quickly and hard. The build-up in your stomach has you clenching harder than before causing Jeongin to thrust deeper, he slows down and grips your hips fully pulling you into him. Burying his cock deep in your pussy he lets go of everything, he whines loudly and shakily, and you wonder if the neighbors can hear him. He doesn't stop thrusting knowing you're close. Seungmin pulls off you and starts stroking himself to allow himself to cum on your face and chest. Your mouth hangs open while he shoots his warm white cum all over your face and chest letting whatever you catch in your mouth, swallow back. Jeongin continues thrusting grabbing your arms to hold them behind and Seungmin reaches under you to circle your clit as you cry out, squirting all over the two of them. You both stay still, trying to catch your breathe. You look up at the monitor, your mask sloppily misaligned and the other two boys are about to pass out. You wave goodbye and say your thank yous turning the stream off. 

You crawl over to the bed reaching for your robe, trying to grip the bed to stand up but your legs give out. Jeongin stands up somewhat stable, lifting you up into his arms with is arms wrapped around your waist.

“ I have water in the shower for us, theres some.. water bottles in there.” You say tired as Jeongin sits you on the love seat in the corner. Seungmin is grabbing a towel from the dresser to layover the mess covering the floors.

Jeongin remerges with water in hand. Your throat is sore but you feel like your on cloud 9. No one says a word while you drink the water down.

“So uh… How was it?” You ask to break the silence.

“Better then I ever could have dreamed of. Would you… want to maybe do it again?” Seungmin is the first to speak, you feel yourself blushing. It felt so silly to blush after you just let them cum in/on you.

“ Oh uh.. Definetely… I don’t know about a threesome again. That was a lot of cardio for me” You giggle at the last part. Jeongin laughs, it was one he does when he was a little shy about compliments.

“Sorry for cumming in you, I wasn’t sure if i should but can I get you a Plan B or um,” Jeongin asks but you shake your head laughing.

“No worries here, I’m on the pill. Do you guys mind keeping this between us? I just wouldn’t want anyone at work to know if that’s okay?” You ask.

“Worried about Minho? Don’t worry he’s hopelessly in love with you but this stays between us… and maybe everyone who watched but who cares about those one’s.” Seungmin says reassuring you. 

You walk the two of them to the door and say your goodnights, you settle away in bed after a nice long bath, trying to relax any possibility of sore muscles. You’re drifting to sleep when you get a message.

hyjnny: hey babe, loved your live tonight. If you ever want to collaborate sometime let me know, think we might be pretty close. Check my page out, i think you’ll like what you see. Here’s my number if you want to meet up sometime xxx-xxx-xxxx

----

a/n: feeling a little rusty but i hope you all love this chapter, look forward the next one ;)

taglist (7/30): @skzooluvr @breadpuddingboys @weshhhhhhhhhhhhh @ihrtlix @complete-kpop-trash @strayzid @amara-mars

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

HOW DARE YOU STAB ME IN THE GUT THE IDEA OF VAGGIE BEING MORTAL!

SO RUDE!

But at the same time just... thinking about vaggie wanting to grow old with charlie. that sort of show of *trust*, of being vulnerable with charlie in a way no one's been with her before.

and it probably takes some more conversations, but... I want to hope that charlie eventually understands just what vaggie means when she wants to spend the rest of her days with charlie. and how much meaning that carries when those days are *finite*...

MY POOR HEART HOW DARE YOU

well this almost turned into a fic now didn't it? hm. whoops

(had Reinaeiry's song "Left Behind" on repeat for this ^w^;)

.... a new sinner comes to the hotel, sometime After.

they came in past the giant golden Dazzle statue out front, creep through the foyer, tense and ready for a trap, spot Sir Pentious's portrait- and the matching one, hanging up next to it

(fresh flowers sitting in vases under them both)

it's a picture of a woman. Steel grey skin, faded angel wings, a missing eye- deep laugh lines at the corners of the eye she has left

she's leaning back in a chair, sitting casually in her hotel manager uniform, her thin smile a little crooked and a little sharp- definitely someone used to having problems and finding solutions. Not someone to mess with. The walking stick in one hand is held more like a weapon

there's a wedding band on her finger, on full display she reaches up to cover the hand resting on her shoulder

(rest of that person out of sight) (hand clawed and pale as porcelain, cuff of a red suit bleeding out of frame)

and it's odd to see someone else sharing a memorial picture-

(more than one person had died a little, that day)

-but more odd than that is the way looking at the picture makes the sinner frown.

they're still frowning when the hotel founder wanders over

(done arranging for a new room) (doing double duty as hotel manager) (laughed it off earlier- hasn't yet found the time to put up a job openings ad) (a bad liar)

and she's a lanky, tall demon in a red suit, looking more like a living doll than a princess of hell, proper demon image only hinted at with the claws and the fangs

she shows off the fangs when she smiles at the portrait of the woman- then, belatedly, at the new hotel guest

(still their hotel) (still their new guest) (even After...)

she asks,

"Like them?" and smiles a little wider (wider than a human could) (a little forced now) "They're, pretty cool pictures, huh?"

the new guest hums noncommittally. Still frowning

a laugh from the demon standing next to them, clasping her hands, spinning ring on one finger-

"I guess it's harder to know how good a picture it is, if you've never met the person in it." a hard swallow. "She would've.... really liked to have be here. To meet you."

"Not sure I'd want to meet her," a quip, thoughtless, not looking over. "Kinda a scary lady."

the demon's stricken look "-does she look scary?"

a casual shrug. "Just a feeling. Seems like she meant business."

"She did..." fangs biting into lips, smile gone, shoulders slumping, the demon caving inwards. "....but not like that. She, she was scary for people she loved- and kind. And thoughtful and-"

"What about him?" pointing at Sir Pentious in full battle gear, egg boyz everywhere.

the demon's very weak attempt at a smile. "Oh, you'll see him around eventually. He comes down to visit when he can, and likes calling a lot in between."

eyebrows lifting. Realizing. "He's the one who made it to heaven?"

"He is. He-"

"But not her?"

"...."

tall frame hunching, horns out now, dark marks bleeding down pale cheeks like burnt tears. A tail lashing silently behind her.

the demon breathes carefully. Gingerly.

"She... wasn't here to be saved. Not like- not like that."

"Huh."

a dubious, suspicious noise- the hotel is still a new idea even after all these years- a brand new addition to the fabric of creation with a lot of trust issues still to iron out.

"So what happened?" the sinner prods, watching carefully out of the corner of one eye. "Why's her picture up there with his?"

that gets a smile again, strangely.

a tearful one and a thickness in the demon's voice, but still a smile as she steps forward, reaching up to the portrait frame- touching it, lightly, with a pale, clawed hand that matches the one resting on the painted woman's shoulder.

"...they both gave their lives to their friends."

the demon whispers, still smiling.

"They made their home here, in the hotel, with us, and... and they'll always still be here. They'll never. Really leave-"

the words cut off and the sinner shuffles awkwardly in the silence

staring up at the portrait together, one frowning sinner-

-one hell princess slowly leaning against the woman's gilded frame, forehead butting it desperately, clearly trying hard not to cry in front of the first new guest

(that she's had to greet on her own)

finally the sinner speaks up (uncomfortable with pity) (a dangerous, weak thing to feel in hell) scowling hard at the woman's portrait, demanding-

"Where's her spear?"

the demon turns, wet faced, surprised. "Oh- she didn't want..." Blinks. "Her. Spear?"

"The cane thing looks stupid." crossed arms, a judgmental eye. head tilted to the left like bird, like the right eye was better at looking at things- "It's just a stick. How's she supposed to deal with stuff with just a flimsy piece of crap like that? The thing doesn't even have a blade."

"It had one." murmurs the demon, still shocked. Slowly straightening. "It had, hidden inside, there was a blade- Niffty made it for-"

the demon stops. Frowns.

"But. You didn't know her. The spear... How did you know about the-"

another shrug. "Just vibes."

"Vibes-?"

"She looks like a spear kinda girl."

a flex of the sinner's empty hand, gripping empty air, glaring up at the cane in the woman's hand-

"Just seems right, you know? Better than the stupid twig stick."

the demon eyes flicking down to watch, staring. "...she called her cane that, too."

a faint comment drifting up like the ghost of years gone by.

snorting, the sinner turns away. "I bet." eyes the rest of the hotel with hands on hips, critical and on edge with that stare still burning between tense shoulder blades. "So where's my turf in this place? I'm guessing I don't have to fight for it first, right?"

"Room 12, second floor." many times rehearsed words finally popping out without thought. "Key's on the front desk. I'll show you up-"

"Don't bother." sinner already striding off, clearly glad to get away. "I won't kill anyone on the way there, don't worry."

"I wasn't.... that's not why I..."

there's something. Something about that brisk, focused way of walking. Something in the set of those shoulders-

(like a military march) (like the shoulders are braced for wings that aren't there)

(like the sinner should be carrying a spear-)

Charlie lurches forward.

"-Vaggie?"

heart in her throat, fist in her chest, frozen as the sinner pauses at the foot of the main stairs and looks back.

something in that strange face softens. (pity?) (something else...?)

"... not my name, sweetie."

the sinner's smile is crooked. unscarred eyes understanding, and sad.

"She your wife?"

no past tense. just the gaping whole in Charlie- ripped open fresh, thundering and bleeding under her shirt as she stares and stares and tries to see- "Yes." seeing ghosts where there aren't any. "We. For, for so many wonderful years..."

the crooked smile soft as well as sad now, as the sinner thumbs the room key and takes a moment, looking back up at the portrait above Charlie.

"Good for her."

a touch bitter- a sigh, sharp. Pained.

"And, you. Some of us.. never even find who we were looking for, before we lose our chance at having a life with them."

turning and gone in the next second, before anything else slips out. The glint in suddenly exhausted eyes-

Charlie, standing under Vaggie's portrait, slowly starting to shake.

Not this-

"-no."

Slowly backing up against the wall. Claws reaching out, sinking in, ruining wallpaper as the world tilts and turns and Charlie braces her weak knees against the fall.

"-it's not. It's not."

It can't be. The side of the bed that wasn't Charlie's even when she woke up curled up in it- that was real. The dusty spear propped in a corner of their room that Charlie hadn't put there and didn't want there and couldn't bring herself to move- THAT was real.

The portrait behind her, painted when the limp and her balance first started getting bad, when Vaggie still called her cane a 'stupid twig stick' but wouldn't pretend she didn't need it, wouldn't swap it for her spear when Charlie had offered, carried proudly anyway and smirked about smacking ankles when people annoyed her... mostly just thumbed it thoughtfully, when she thought Charlie wasn't looking, smiling that crooked wondering smile- THAT had been- that was-

Charlie could turn around right now and see all of it memorialized behind her (always behind her now) (always in the past, being left further behind).

Charlie had NOT seen, anything else. Because nothing else could BE real.

nothing as real as long limbs folding in, crumping under that damn framed picture, ignoring Husk's worried look from the bar. Husk, glancing up after the new guest, also frowning now-

Charlie and the old habit of hugging herself tightly back together, something not even a lifetime with Vaggie had ever fully broke her out of.

(only ONE lifetime) (not hers)

(her stupid deal hadn't worked in the end) (promise broken for nothing) (Vaggie had died)

(she can't be-)

She can't do this again.

.....

exact words are a bitch sometimes

"Don't let me die without her." (never said- and make sure she doesn't have to live and die alone either, without me)

[alliekitaguchi]

spoilers for c3 95

i have to admit that i was getting so frustrated with the hells after the laudna/orym fight because:

they awoke in magical darkness, knowing laudna cast it, which means that she was cognizant enough to have the forethought to hide from him and the rest of them, should they wake up to see what she was doing (because she knew they would try and stop her)

they saw her on the ceiling, running from orym

they saw orym defending himself from her (and yes, orym hurt her too, but as soon as he saw that it was her, he switched to defense)

they saw her use mage hand to grab the sword

they saw orym disarm her to get it away from her

they tried to speak with her and orym both to figure out what was going on and watched her snag the sword AGAIN

they watched her repeatedly open windows and doors, looking for a quick exit

they watched her speak to orym as if he was a piece of dirt beneath her boots

they know laudna has had issues with control, especially after ashton's debacle in whitestone

they listened to her be unable to give a single viable reason for why SHE should take the sword instead of him, just that she wanted to absorb it's power (historically never a good thing to hear from ANYONE)

and they still were like, "we trust you, laudna."

like, i love the hells, and i LOVED this scene because it was so beautifully juicy, but c'mon now. laudna's all charisma and deception, and they were being manipulated by her AND THEY KNEW IT and they still defended her. thank god chet and dorian stepped in for orym's defense, because everyone else just sat around in uncomfortable silence and let it go on.

i know they love laudna and i know they need all hands on deck, but she is literally a powderkeg about to erupt and that shit needs to be dealt with before this happens again and she seriously hurts someone.

i want there to be consequences for this.

i want laudna to get the same repercussions that ashton did. i want her to have to beg for forgiveness, to realize that she fucked up and broke everyone's (especially orym's) trust. i want her to have to apologize to all of them and i want her to realize that she's been lying to them and herself.

(and more importantly, i want to see her be rid of delilah once and for all)

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Crosshair's Character in TBB: A Study

“Loyalty means everything to the clones,”- Anakin Skywalker

I wanted to start my study with this quote because it basically personifies who Crosshair is as a person. Over the course of three seasons (plus CW), there is no doubt that Crosshair is arguably the most well-written and developed member of the Bad Batch. His journey and inner conflict isn’t neatly wrapped up in a little box and tied with a cute bow in only one season. No, his journey spans the entire show. It is very compelling, filled with a deep inner conflict, broken relationships, and the struggle to find one’s self again. In this study, I wanted to look at the major themes of his character and how his relationship to them has changed. 

Loyalty

Crosshair’s strongest and best quality is loyalty. It is everything to him and it’s why he reacts so strongly when the Batch leaves him in “Aftermath.” However, misplaced loyalty is dangerous, especially when it’s blinding. The core struggle of his character, specifically in season 1 and 2, is discovering who is worth his loyalty. Crosshair isn’t the type of person to just save his own skin when things get bad; S3 disputes that multiple times. As rude and off-putting as he can be, Crosshair cares deeply for others. Unfortunately, it’s the choices he makes and where he invests his loyalty that conflict arises. 

The Worth of Loyalty

A part of understanding Crosshair is understanding how far he will go for those he’s loyal to. 

“Do you know why they put me in charge? It’s because I’m willing to do what needs to be done.”

This line is stone-cold, but remove the context and apply it to Crosshair in general. It speaks volumes. Crosshair isn’t driven by some moral compass like Echo or Omega are. He’s not loyal to some grand cause. He’s loyal to people who’ve earned his respect. He’s loyal to those who value his skills as a sniper. Crosshair will not hesitate to go to extreme lengths for others. He killed Tawi Ames because he is a soldier of the Empire. He dragged a half-dead Mayday back to base because Mayday saved his life and showed him compassion. He went back to Tantiss for Omega because she saved him and he loves her. Crosshair’s journey is about him discovering who is worth that kind of loyalty. Who is worth dragging someone through sheer hell even though the optimal solution would be to just leave them? As Crosshair learns, it’s not the Empire.

The question remains, who is worth his loyalty? The answer is simple: Omega, his brothers, and other kind people such as Mayday and Cody. But Crosshair’s loyalty is severely misguided at first. There are a multitude of reasons as to why. One of the most obvious reasons is due to his fractured relationship with his brothers. By the time the entire Batch reunites in “Return to Kamino,” Crosshair can’t help but voice his pain and anger.

“They don’t leave their own behind… most of the time.” “You weren’t loyal to me.”

Due to the chip, Crosshair doesn’t understand why they left him. Did years of loyalty from Crosshair mean nothing to them? Did their relationship as brothers mean nothing? At that point in the story, he hasn’t realized how damaging the Empire is to him. So, he turns his anger to the group of people who meant more to him than anything else in the entire galaxy. And his anger isn’t completely unjustified. He was deeply hurt and he didn’t know why. Unfortunately, his beliefs about the Empire and struggle with identity push the Batch away. But as Crosshair’s feelings were continually challenged by others and his environment, he started realizing just how deep of a hole he’d gotten himself into. Crosshair’s brand of loyalty is something the chip absolutely would take advantage of. It’s fixating and fierce, hard to break. Only something severe such as removal or damage can break it. 

In S3, we get an exchange between Rampart and Crosshair. Rampart comments that Crosshair used to believe good soldiers followed orders. Crosshair responds that it depends on who’s giving them. This statement is absolutely true. Rampart doubts that Crosshair has changed, but it is Rampart who hasn’t changed. Both were betrayed by the Empire, but only one recognized where he went wrong. Crosshair now understands that his deep and fierce loyalty belongs to those who won’t hurt him or others he cares about. Loyalty is reciprocal and not to be taken for granted. This is a sentiment he shares with Howzer.

“Loyalty meant something to me. But with the Empire it didn’t go both ways.”

But Rampart can’t understand that because he’s only loyal to himself. And when you’re only loyal to yourself, you don’t care who around you falls. 

The Empire: An Environment of Shame

Why doesn’t Crosshair see just how bad the Empire is? That’s an argument I see often, but I think it’s important to understand just how manipulative and demonizing the Empire really is. Crosshair deeply internalizes his identity as a soldier. His value comes from his skills and if he can’t do his job properly, he will be discarded. The Empire is an echo chamber of that insecurity. 

“There are other ways of producing loyal soldiers”- Rampart

Rampart, Tarkin, Nolan… the faces of many imperials who remind Crosshair of what happens if his loyalty falters. He will be discarded. All around him, Crosshair hears the imperials speak about replacing the clones. They speak about the value of loyalty. It pushes him to keep proving his loyalty to the Empire. Crosshair is a sensitive soul despite appearances and he internalizes what others say around him. 

“Not the ones that matter.”- Cross to Hunter about the Empire phasing out clones

If Crosshair can continue fulfilling his purpose, then he will be spared, or at least that’s what he tells himself. We see this in real life too. Social media can influence others by feeding into their egos, only to rip them apart should they step out of line. It’s the same scenario with Crosshair. Rampart mocks Cody’s absence and talks about clone loyalty not being what it was advertised. Crosshair tenses up at his words, clearly bothered, until Rampart asks if he has a problem and then dismisses the issue without a care. The Empire makes Crosshair feel so alone. But he’s a soldier, right? This is where he belongs, right?

Compare that environment to the one put forth by Omega and Mayday. Omega is warm and compassionate. She cares deeply for others, even when that person probably doesn’t deserve it. As Crosshair struggles, Omega remains nothing but encouraging. She believed in him from the very beginning. 

“You’re still more capable than most.”- Omega

Omega’s constant display of loyalty and affection towards him eventually wins Crosshair over. He finds himself in an environment where his fierce devotion is not only reciprocated but goes above and beyond. Mayday shows compassion to Crosshair even though he barely knows him. He also shares Crosshair’s unspoken frustration. The Empire didn’t care about the clones despite them being good soldiers who followed orders. When danger strikes, Mayday doesn’t hesitate to protect Crosshair. Once again, it’s this reciprocated loyalty that shows Crosshair the truth behind the curtain. The Empire is all take and no give. Omega and Mayday display the opposite; they give Crosshair their all and don’t expect him to grovel on his knees for their praise or friendship.

Identity

But loyalty is only one major aspect of his character. Crosshair’s willingness to stay with the Empire also stems from his struggle with his identity. Clones are taught to be loyal and the behavioral modification chip only reinforces that notion. For Crosshair, it’s not so easy to just throw away something he grew up his entire life hearing. Thus, he finds himself in conflict between his loyalty to his brothers, loyalty as a clone, and identity as a loyal soldier. It’s so heartbreaking to see him when the chip partially activates. The chip makes him so fixated on Order 66 and yet, he can’t help but still stay by his brothers’ side. It is only when the chip is enhanced that he attacks his brothers. 

The Soldier and the Clone

The moment they are born, the clones are raised to be soldiers. They have no say in their fates, only that they have one purpose in life. Crosshair is no ordinary clone though; he’s labeled as defective for looking and sounding different. However, he has exceptionally sharp vision. One of the first things established about the Bad Batch is that they use unorthodox methods and they’re very showy. They also have a 100% success rate. As a result, Crosshair views himself and his squad as “superior.” As a soldier in the Empire, he expects to get the same recognition. The Empire is fueled by individuals who love feeling powerful. For Crosshair, to get special treatment because he’s a “superior” clone definitely would feed his ego. Unfortunately, the Empire also will pull the plug on anyone at any time. On Kamino, being defective is a death sentence. But Crosshair’s enhancement makes him useful; it’s why he was kept around. Interestingly, the more isolated Crosshair became in his time with the Empire, the more he began to seek companionship with the regs. S2 sees Crosshair shed his views that he’s a “superior” clone. He slowly begins to accept the fact that he and the other clones aren’t actually that different. We see this change in many ways: he tries to sit with the regs, he enjoys going on a mission with Cody, and he quickly gets attached to Mayday. 

Crosshair’s journey of accepting himself as a clone and finding companionship with others outside his squad humbles him and makes him an overall kinder person. It is integral in how he becomes disillusioned with the Empire. The Empire makes him feel so alone. Look at his room in “The Solitary Clone;” it’s no better than his cell on Tantiss. “Nat-borns” don’t understand what it is like to be a clone and his squad isn’t there anymore, so Crosshair turns to “regs.” He starts realizing that their experiences under the Empire aren’t much different from his. It’s Mayday and the mission on Barton IV that really pushes him over the edge. Mayday, a reg, understands him more than he’d like to admit. He’s lonely and feels like his efforts aren’t enough. 

Crosshair has let the Empire mistreat and abuse him for months, but eventually he snaps. He can’t do this anymore. He’s a person. Mayday is a person. Has his and Maydy’s loyalty meant nothing? Has the loyalty of the clones in general meant nothing? 

A clone’s identity is intrinsically tied to being a soldier. Why did Crosshair stay with the Empire? A simple answer is it gave him a purpose. Crosshair deeply internalizes his role as both a sniper and a soldier. He can’t see himself in another role as it is all he has known. What will happen when that’s taken away from him? Crosshair struggles with that exact dilemma. As I said early, being defective and unable to fulfill being a soldier means decommissioning and being discarded. I’ll bet this is why Crosshair struggles breaking away from his soldier mindset. He was taught to be loyal and there is no place for him if he can’t fulfill his purpose. Let’s take a look at his role as a sniper. Crosshair’s role is to wait on the outskirts and observe for danger. He’s supposed to keep his team safe from afar and spot trouble before it strikes. He’s a protector. That role gets shaken when his tremor starts. What happens to Crosshair if he can’t shoot? What happens to his brothers? 

S3 introduces the arc of Crosshair learning to accept help from others and becoming more than a soldier. A sniper is supposed to be distant, a loner, and always on the lookout. Once that role is challenged, suddenly, Crosshair realizes he can’t do this alone. He initially tries via brushing it off or shaking his hand. But it’s not enough. Both Hunter and Omega grow concerned. Omega takes the initiative and gently encourages Crosshair to try meditation with her. Even if it doesn’t work, the fact that he tries already speaks volumes. Throughout the season, Crosshair tries multiple times to do things alone. However, Hunter declines that proposal and says they should work together. The most glaring example is the climax of "The Cavalry Has Arrived." Crosshair is missing his dominant hand, weakened from his injury, and on top of that, it’s pouring rain and Hemlock has handcuffed himself to Omega. It is only through the help of his siblings that Crosshair makes the shot. He did it with the support of his family. 

In relying on his family, Crosshair becomes more than a sniper. He becomes more than a soldier. Even if he had his hand, Crosshair still would’ve had to overcome the huge barrier of making a steady shot. Either way, Crosshair overcomes by accepting the love and help from his family. Looking back, I’m really glad that this was a part of his arc. Crosshair has spent so much of the show alone, having to rely on himself and his skill to survive. But as time passes, he learns that it’s ok to have help. As people, we’re not meant to carry all our burdens alone. Crosshair learns he doesn’t have to remain distant all the time to protect others; sometimes, our greatest strength comes from each other.

The Beauty of Self-Worth

“Omega, don’t risk anything for me. I belong in here.” (This line is one of the most heartbreaking lines in the entire show). “So, I’m doing this alone. It’s what I deserve.”

A smaller, but just as important arc, is Crosshair’s journey of forgiveness. By “Tipping Point,” Crosshair has largely tackled his inner conflict. He knows who deserves his loyalty and who doesn’t. He realizes that he isn’t so different from the other clones. However, the guilt from his actions still lingers. Although he gets his message out, everything else fails. Tech dies, Omega is captured, and he doesn’t know what happened to the others. Crosshair suffers for a long 5 months due to Hemlock’s conditioning. His days are filled with the same mundane (and painful) routine and there is no sign of hope… that is, except for Omega. No matter what happened in the past, Omega undying love for him never yields. 

“None of us belong in here.”- Omega 

Omega’s words are reassuring and they hit Crosshair in a way he doesn’t expect. How can he, who has done these terrible things and has been forgotten by the world, be worth kindness? For all the times he said/did something cruel to Omega, she still came back for him. It’s Omega’s compassion that helps push Crosshair to finding his own self-worth. She loves him when nothing seems to be working for him. She encourages him to talk to his brothers. Crosshair wants to be accepted and belong again with his brothers. But up until that point in the narrative, everything around him seems to tell him the opposite. 

As much as I would’ve liked more from Hunter, I’m still glad he and Crosshair are able to have a conversation. In “The Return,” Crosshair admits how wrong he was. To come to terms with the darker parts of one’s self is important in forgiveness and the courage to do so is immense. There are things in life we as people can all do better. It’s what makes us human. The last time Crosshair interacted with his brother, it devolved into anger and pain-fueled argument. Crosshair so desperately wanted his brothers back, but it had to be on his terms. As the brothers fight again, Hunter antagonizes him into getting answers. A quick “blink and you’ll miss it” moment is that Cross’ hand trembles when Hunter brings up betrayal. Crosshair initially clamps up before biting back, blaming Hunter for Omega’s capture. But as both brothers learn to realize, both of them need to do better. The past hurts immensely because of that broken bond. Now, they have the opportunity to mend it. 

“I have regrets too, Crosshair. All we can do is keep trying to be better and who knows? There just might be hope for us yet.”- Hunter

Like Omega, Hunter’s words offer reassurance and comfort. Can Crosshair, a person who hurt his family, be worth that forgiveness? Hunter’s words all but confirm that Crosshair is forgiven in his eyes. Crosshair’s struggle to find forgiveness and worth in himself is eased by the people who he cares for the most. Even something simple as a hug from Wrecker catches him off guard, but it’s something that tells him “you’re loved and wanted.” As the vulture leaves the outpost, Crosshair slowly learns to forgive himself for what happened. 

It all culminates in the hug he gets from Omega in “The Cavalry Has Arrived.” Crosshair believed he deserved to die in order to atone. After everything he’s done and been through, does he still deserve a happy ending when it’s all over? Omega’s hug says yes. Tantiss is the heart of his pain and agony. In another world, Crosshair would never have set foot there if he chose differently. Perhaps Omega wouldn’t have suffered there. Perhaps Tech would still be alive… Without any hesitation, Omega wraps her arms around Crosshair and he is shocked. She reaches over to pull Hunter in and Hunter wraps his other arm around Crosshair, holding him close. And without any words, Crosshair leans in and closes his eyes. As the trio begin to head back to the shuttle, it’s Crosshair who reaches out and places his stump on Omega’s shoulder. In doing something as simple as leaning into the embrace, Crosshair accepts the love he is given. He lets himself be loved and understands that he is worthy of that love. 

This isn’t the end of Crosshair’s journey, of course. Crosshair has a very long and difficult road ahead of him. No, his PTSD wasn’t stored in his hand. Cutting off his hand isn’t a magical “cure” for it. Crosshair still has to work through a lot and he will. The big difference is that he knows he doesn’t have to work through it alone. With the help of his family, Crosshair can continue that journey of healing he began in “Bad Territory.” He’s so loved because he’s Crosshair, a brother, a protector, with fierce loyalty that could never be truly broken. 

Anyways, we’ve reached the end of my character study. Thank you all for reading. Crosshair is a very complex character and one who faces many trials. But no matter how many times he falls, he always finds a way to pick himself back up. At the end, he makes it. Crosshair has learned a lot, but I’m grateful that TBB team chose a long and complex route for him. Because guess what? Healing and growing as a person isn’t a “one size fits all” scenario. It’s a messy and difficult process. When all is said and done, Crosshair has one of the best realized redemption arcs in all of Star Wars and I couldn’t be more thrilled with how it played out.