#hopefully i will continue it if any of y'all are interested in more of this

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (steddie fic)

saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3

The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand. 

“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar. 

Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken. 

The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-” 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”

“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him. 

“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement. 

“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?” 

Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?” 

“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.

“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?” 

Yet again, he receives no answers. 

“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?” 

“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”

His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest. 

Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.” 

“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears. 

“I’ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher. 

Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-” 

“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.” 

Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore. 

Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington. 

Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…” 

Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?” 

“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-” 

“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?” 

Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”

“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue. 

“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.” 

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.

“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…” 

Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.” 

Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.” 

“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”

“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.” 

~

Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here. 

He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room. 

Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat. 

Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?” 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.” 

Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.” 

“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?” 

“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”

“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.

It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?

He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.” 

(part two is here!)

[dezznuggz]

The Parents of the Friend group. |Part 1

Steve Harrington × reader

~the party already knows about yours and Steve's relationship and even before you and Steve got together, they made it pretty clear that Steve is the mom and you're the dad. Plain and simple

Warning: playfully bullying Steve, mentions of season 2, mentions of the upside down, reader pronouns she/her, y/n used a couple times

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With everything that the party member went through at a young age, you and Steve always cared and protected them with any chance y'all get. With that being said, Steve made it a monthly thing to have the kids (including Robin and Eddie) sleepover for at least a night just so they can enjoy themselves young and to also ease Steve's paranoia of not knowing when another type of monster will appear out of the blue. You didn't have a problem with the idea of course mostly since you loved the kids as if they were your own kids but it gets tiring after a while, mostly when it's in your own home.

Tossing and turning in bed while hearing loud chatters in the distance. Moving around to grab a hold of Steve and hopefully cuddle back to sleep but you feel the other side of the bed empty.

Is it the 24th already?

Groggily getting out of bed still half asleep and walking to the bathroom to freshen up and get ready for one hell of a day. After wearing something more appropriate and becoming wide awake, you mentally prepare yourself to walk out into the chaos. When you open the door, everything suddenly becomes clearer and louder. You see Erica and Dustin arguing about what channel to put on. Max and Robin are practically attacking Lucas for his poor taste in comics. Eddie, Mike, and Will try explaining d&d to El (who clearly is not interested). Then you see the main person that you wanted to spend your morning with, but they were clearly occupied and busy. Already heading to the kitchen to your lover to say good morning while giving a peck on the lips.

"Every month...every month, I don't even know why I'm surprised anymore" you say while looking at the hoard of people in the living room talking over each other. "I swear they're little geniuses but when it comes to being on time, they're rather late or too early and today is one of those days." Steve says while mixing a bowl of pancakes batter. "Remember you wanted this, so you can't fully blame them." You say while warming up a cup of coffee, "oh no no no, you can't partially blame me for this, don't act as if you didnt want them around either" Steve says while looking from the pancake batter then to you with a small smile. Okay maybe you also found comfort in having the kids around including Robin and Eddie, it feels more home warming but it's the mess they leave after. "Well...I'm not sure what I can say to that other than calling dibs to drop off the kids" you say frantically before leaving the kitchen and into the living room while hearing Steve trying to call you back in the kitchen.

Once you step in the living room, you weren't sure if you wanted to go back and continue the conversation that you just had with Steve or try to at least have the kids calm down and lower their voices. "Jesus I don't know how you deal with this nerd, all he does is shove facts down your throat!" Erica practically yells at you before walking away from Dustin who is hot on her tail. "Oh IM THE NERD, you practically have the whole pony lore merged in your girly little brain" Dustin yells back at Erica while also passing by you and saying a quiet good morning (which you say good morning back).

"okay well let's leave that to Steve.." you say under your breath before walking to the little closet room in yours and Steve's house to pull out blankets and more pillows already preparing for tonight and maybe for a game that will last till night out. "Hey!" Will said pretty loudly in your ear which had you flinching a little, "Oh my God, what happened, I thought you were with Eddie and Mike? Did you forget your toothbrush again? Or was it your underwear again? You know Steve doesn't really mind besides he barley knows." You ramble and ask multiple questions to Will and whispering the last part knowing that it happened once and he trusted in only telling you. "WHAT no I'm fine, everything's fine, I just wanted to help out a little you know since it's the least we can do" Will says in a soft tone. "Oh no it's okay honey... Well you know what, maybe a little help wouldn't hurt right?" You say hesitantly, knowing how Steve gets when the kids actually help around. He tends to take control but not in a mean way more of a 'just rest my child and I'll take care of you' typa way. "Okay I need you to carry this... And this, and hold this one for me please....oh can't forget Max's..." You say while stacking pillows and blankets in Will's arms which slowly starts piling up to the point that his face is no longer able to be seen.

"is that it?..." Will asks while trying to peep his head out a little just to see if there are any more blankets, "umm....no you know what that's about it, good job buddy" you say before patting Will's shoulder indicating that he should follow you. Both you and Will walk to the living room to find everyone gone then you hear a faint voice counting. "Okay that's 2,4,6,8....8?" Steve says after counting heads to make sure everyone was sat at the table ready to eat although with so much noise and talking going around he can't seem to know if he counted wrong. But just as Steve suspected, he did count wrong as 2 more people walked into the dining room. "Ah there you guys are, okay so that's 10 in total" Steve says with a relief but his cheery tone went away as he saw Will's bottom half since the other half was covered with piles of blankets and pillows. "Babe we talked about this, if you need help call me, now look what you have done to the boy, I can't even see him" Steve says dramatically. You let out a sigh as you take the pillows and blankets from Will and told him to sit down and eat, "it's fine babe he offered and I took it, it's not gonna hurt him. And besides you seemed a little busy so I didn't want to disturb you." You say trying to calm a dramatic Steve down since you always are the one to just take things with a flow while Steve is the one to control the flow.

"I'm not gonna tell you again, if you ever need help just call me over and I'll be there, okay?" Steve says while looking down at you waiting for a response, "sure." You say just to please Steve, "good, now sit down and eat before it gets cold" Steve says with a more cheery tone as he presses a kiss on your lips.

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"UNOOO!!" Eddie exclaims very loudly which caused the kids to groan since they know that Eddie's cheating but they just can't prove it. Everyone was currently sitting on the floor around the little coffee table in the middle of the living room. Everyone decided to play uno after a long argument on how we should play it due to Dustin being competitive and wanting a specific way to play like whether or not we can jump in or pair up with someone. Everyone told him that we're just gonna play uno for the fun of it with no arguments and no competition, which never happened. Steve and you ended up teaming up and showing each other y'all's cards, Erica started becoming aggressive towards Lucas who kept +4 her. "Is there a problem between you and me cause last time I checked, we're blood related and BLOOD RELATED PEOPLE DONT BETRAY EACHOTHER!" Erica screams in Lucas's face while Lucas laughs at her overreacting. "Woah okay Erica calm down, here take my +4 and you'll get him next time when we reverse." Steve says to Erica while passing the card across the table to Erica who simply denied it and said that she didn't want his pity. "Let her fuss it out babe, she'll get over it" you say while laughing a little since you were Erica's babysitter at some point of time, so you knew how long Erica's little tantrums would last.

As the game ended with Robin somehow winning and multiple arguments breaking out. We all went out separate ways as it was almost time for dinner. You and Steve both walk into the kitchen just to finally enjoy y'all's personal time (even though y'all live together). With you deciding that you don't wanna cook, and Steve not knowing what to cook, you both agreed to order Chinese food. It was cheap and the most agreeable among the party members. Pizza was always complicated for the party, Lucas liked olives while Robin was allergic, and El liked pineapple on hers which Eddie completely despised to be in sight of pineapple pizza. Everyone had their own pizza preference that was just too much to order all together but Chinese food is what got everyone to enjoy (although you weren't a fan of Chinese food but you'll eat it for the kids).

Steve finished the order for Chinese food that we will soon have to pick up but in the mean time it was just you and Steve. Steve and you. Both embracing and enjoying each other's company even when yall aren't doing anything but it just felt so comfortable and loving. You sat on the counter with your feet dangling and Steve between your thighs while looking up at you and admiring you as if you were an angel. "You ever think about having kids" Steve asks with a foolish grin across his face, "woah, a very unexpected question at the moment" you say giggling but slowly stopped when you saw Steve still waiting for an answer, "I don't know, maybe,...actually yeah but as long as it's your kids" you say also with a foolish grin which made Steve blush "you know I actually want 6 kids, I don't remember telling you that" Steve says looking deep in your eyes, "oh trust me I remember you specifically telling me how many and what their names would be" you exclaim while rolling your eyes playfully since you have indeed heard multiple times and it's not like your complaining, infact you loved the idea of Steve also seeing his future with you and you guys are only 20 years old. "Let's get married" Steve says with a straight face and you let out a laugh but stop and clear your throat when Steve still looks at you with a straight face, "you're serious? Okay umm listen Steve I love you, I really do and I don't even want to imagine a life without you but we're 20 and we both work at a minimum wage job that barley pays for rent." You say rambling a little, "but trust me when I tell you this, I wanna get married with you so bad and specifically only you but just not right now or at least where we're at right now" you try to say with a little bit of a cheery voice so you don't totally break Steve's heart, "I promise" you say while holding out your pinky Infront of Steve's pouty face, "okay but is it okay if we have kids before we get married?" Steve asks before he even locks both of y'all's pinkies together "whatever makes you happy babe" you tell Steve with a toothy grin knowing that it would cheer Steve up, he then locks both of y'all's pinkies together and gives you a very passionate kiss that caused you to let out a little giggle in the middle of it.

"oh dude, I thought Robin said no public pda" Mike exclaims with a face of disgust before walking and purposely bumping into Steve's back to get a cold water bottle from the fridge. "Dude we're trying our best to keep it private", Steve says in a very judging tone, "you know Mike, me and Steve have seen you and El kiss but you don't see us making a big scene, have you tried growing up a little?" You say to Mike cause this isn't the first time that you and Mike have had this conversation about pda. "if it requires me growing up and becoming anything like y'all, I'd rather stay young and immature" Mike says before walking off but not before steve tells him to watch his tone. "I'm pretty sure he just called us old in so many different ways" you say to Steve, "he just doesn't get it cause he doesn't know what REAL love is, all he knows is young love....and I'm not old, trust I'm never gonna look old either" Steve says before fixing his hair with a pouty face which you laugh at cause you know how dramatic Steve gets when it comes to his age and specifically his looks.

"oh stop whining, we all know that you're gonna get grey hairs by soon mostly with all the stress the kids keep giving you" Robin suddenly comes in the kitchen startling you both just a little. "Okay first of all shut up and don't jinx it, and second who was talking to you?" Steve says in a very sassy tone since his hair is "his best feature" so God forbid anything happens to it. You let out a breathy laugh as Robin kept adding more gas into the fire. "Oh what's so funny huh, you do know you're gonna end up with grey hairs too so we'll both look 50 in our 30s" Steve says which causes you to stop laughing and before you can say anything Robin practically speaks for you, "uh no she won't, cause the kids are scared of her so they always act right around her but with you Steve, oh boy do they give you hell. In fact I'm pretty sure they only listen to y/n" Robin says with a small smirk on her lips. "Oh that's so not true!" Steve says raising his voice a little to state that he completely disagrees with Robin, "yea it is, remember at Byers house during fall, when you know the whole incident happened." You say trying to get Steve to recall what exactly happened that night, "yea what about it?" Steve says still not remembering how that night has anything to do with what they were walking about.

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Fall night 1984:

You and Steve were trusted to take care of the kids. It wasn't anything new to you when it came to having full responsibility of the kids. It practically came as a free side job for you since you protected the kids without any questions asked or needed. For Steve on the other hand, his first time taking care of 5 kids at once and he felt like there was so much responsibility in his hands. He just felt the need to take full control due to the fear of not being able to know what the kids are doing 24/7 at the moment.

With Mike and Lucas arguing about Mike panicking and Dustin having Steve shove a demo-dog in ms.byers fridge it all felt hectic to you but nothing that you couldn't handle. The only calm one that was there was max due to it being her first rodeo and completely confused about the whole situation. Suddenly all the kids start making up a plan on how to help El and everyone else that's heading towards the lab that's filled with deadly creatures. While hearing this plan Steve completely shuts it down. "Yea and then we all die" Steve says making it clear that he totally disapproves of their idea, "well that's one point of view" you say in a sarcastic way, "no y/n that's not one point of view, that's a fact" Steve says with an attitude mostly since you're the other adult that's supposed to help him out but isn't even backing him up. You then raise your hands in surrender and give Steve a mocking face before going back to sweeping up glass with max. Mike then walks off with everyone following right behind him, you and Max decide to forget about the glass pieces since there're definitely way more important things to focus on.

With Mike making a master plan of setting up the underground base on fire and having Dustin,max, and Lucas add onto the idea Steve finally attempts to put his foot down. "We're staying here, ON THE BENCH, and we're waiting for the starting team to do their job, does everybody understand that" Steve says in a demanding tone, "THIS ISN'T A STUPID SPORTS GAME?!" Mike complains to Steve but Steve still stood his ground "I said does everybody understand that, I need a yes.." Steve says pointing his fingers at the kids waiting for a response. "We don't need to listen to you" Mike says still annoyed at Steve, "okay you know what, that's enough...y/n control your kids" steve finally starts talking to you but all you did was respond with crossing your arms and shrugging your shoulders as a sign that there's really not much to say. "Oh seriously you're in on this too!?" Steve exclaims in a flabbergasted tone, "I don't know what to say Steve, it sounds like a really good plan". "Yea a good plan to get us killed". "We're not gonna die okay they know what they're doing!". "Yes imma let a bunch of kids guide me into saving the world, yea sure why not jump off a cliff while I'm at it!",

you and Steve bicker back and forth till you finally give in just to calm Steve down and to get him to shut up, "alright kids you heard him, this plan just might get us killed, steve and only steve thinks its best for us to stay put here" you say in a very rude tone to show that you also dont approved of steves idea, "but-" lucas wanted to say something but went completely quiet when you gave him a look to not talk back "we understand". "fine". "Sure". "Whatever" was the only response you got from the kids as they all got up from the floor but completely halted in their steps when they heard a very loud engine outside...

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"okay that doesn't even count, they kids were getting used to me at that time so they just don't understand how scary I can get, they listen to me. I know they do it's just y'all aren't around or y'all don't remember" Steve says still trying to defend himself which causes you and Robin to laugh at Steve's attempt. "You're right that's one of the many times that the kids listened to y/n but if you want I can go on and on and on" Robin says trying to rile Steve up and laughing through her sentence, "okay you know what I think it's time for us to pick up the food" Steve says before walking into the living room filled with many people that just seem to be in their own world, "alright who wants to come with me and get the food?.." steve says loud enough for then to hear but there still was no response given to him, you weren't even sure if they heard him. "HEY! Who wants to go with Steve and pick up the food!?" You say loudly which caused everyone's attention on you and still no response but instead everyone is looking at each other to see who's willing to volunteer and go with Steve, "no one? Okay... Dustin go with Steve" you say short and simple which caused Dustin to let out a dramatic groan, "why do I gotta go, make Mike go or max go" Dustin whines to you, "no complaints now get up and get the food. NOW!?" you reply to Dustin's complaints and say the last part loudly since you didn't see him move until you raised your voice.

You then walked up to Steve giving him a pat on the shoulder and a kiss on the cheek before walking to the bathroom. Everyone goes back to their own world again and Steve still is a little mad at the fact that the kids do only listen to you and never Steve.

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Everyone's back at the dining table and there is not a single moment that's silent. Everything is everywhere. Things being passed around in front of everyone, people calling other people's attention from across the table and loud laughter filling the air. It didn't bother you at all, okay maybe a little but you also don't know how else you would prefer the kids to be.

You suddenly snap out of your little thoughts when max mentions your name. "Y/n literally wears the pants of the relationship" max tells Steve, who is still flabbergasted at the fact that the kids listen to only you, "no she doesn't, I think that me and her both are equal in our relationship, right babe" Steve then turns to you asking for your input and opinion, "max we're equal there's no one that wears the pants okay...but I do have to take the lead sometimes" you say the last part quietly but not quite enough for Steve to not hear. "Okay first of all you don't take the lead ALL the time and I wouldn't even put it as you taking the lead, more like you knowing what's better" Steve says defending himself, "oh so she does take the lead I knew it" Eddie then chimes in the conversation out of nowhere, "no she doesn't are you guys even listening to what I'm saying?!" Steve says in a frantic way since he feels as if he's being attacked.

"Wait you're telling me that throughout all the shit we've been through, y/n has always been the decision maker?!" Eddie says in a shocked tone from connecting dots in his mind, "what no of course I make decisions too, you guys act as if I don't do anything!?" Steve raises his voice slightly which causes max and Eddie to laugh out loudly which also causes everyone else's conversation to cut off and wanting to know what's so funny. "We didn't say you don't do anything, we're just saying that you mostly listen to y/n. It honestly seems as if she wears the pants in the relationship" Eddie says while still laughing, this causes others who have been listening to laugh too. "I think we all made it clear that y/n wears the pants, I mean like look at them" max says while gesturing her hands toward me and Steve which causes us to look at each other up and down.

"It's like Steve is the mom and y/n is the dad can we all make that clear" Robin says and everyone else agrees with a small response. "Wait what?" You say a little confused on how the subject can change fast but not the topic which was y'all two, you and Steve being the target and center of the conversation. "Yea I mean you guys are like an old married couple that love each other, I think that's pretty obvious right?" Lucas says that also has everyone else agreeing with him. "Steve is so strict and paranoid like a mom and y/n is so chill and a floater like a dad." Mike adds to Lucas's statement that causes Erica to butt in, "Steve yells at me for not taking my shoes off when I walk in, y/n doesn't even bat an eye about it" Erica's comment left Steve flabbergasted. This had Steve more aware of how motherly he's been acting through the past years. "So I'm the lame, no fun boring mom while y/n is the cool fun dad?!?" Steve asks as if clarification to make sure that what they're saying to him is correct. "Pretty much". "Yea honestly". "if the show fits". "Yea" was the response Steve gets from the kids, "that's so not true I can be fun. Matter in fact I'm totally fun it's just not with y'all. I'm so fun that you guys wouldn't be able to handle me." Steve rants about how fun he is just to prove that he's not a boring mom but that doesn't seem to get to the kids, "that's exactly what a mom would say" Dustin then says to stop Steve from going on and on about "how fun he is", and this time it left Steve silent, infact it left the whole table silent waiting to see what else Steve has left to say but clearly he had nothing.

The silence caused you to let out a little snort of laughter which caused everyone to look at you. Seeing Steve get terrorized by a bunch of kids was too funny to hold in that Steve himself laughed. With you and Steve laughing this caused everyone else to laugh along. Everyone then went back to their regular conversation as if nothing happened.

You then looked at Steve with a cocky grin, "I'm their favorite parent" you say while smirking at him, "don't start" Steve says while rolling his eyes playfully and chuckling.

-----------------------------∆-------------------------------

With everything that has happened in the last 15 hours, the party members calmly agreed to end the day off with a movie. Robin, max, Erica, and El had the couch while everyone else had the floor. The girls wanted you to be on the couch with them but you wanted to end the day with you being in Steve's arms. "Okay everyone brushed their teeth?" Steve asks before he gets himself comfortable and sitting on the floor next to you, "yes MOM" Will says in a joking way which caused Steve to let out a huff then laugh a little. "Come on guys leave him alone, lord knows how many grey hairs you're going to give him by 30" you say in a teasing tone that caused everyone to laugh. "Oooo you're lucky I love you" Steve says after turning off all the light and putting the movie on and laying next to you.

The movie goes on for a while until everyone is out cold. All the junk they ate today completely drained them out. "You know I don't mind being the mom anymore" Steve says all of a sudden, "really? Why's that?" You say a little curious about the sudden change of opinion, "it lets me know that the kids know that I care for them even if it means I'm not fun." Steve says in a low voice trying not to wake everyone up, "I think they already know that you care for them. They just say that to get a rise out of you", you say letting out a breathy laugh that you covered with your mouth. "At least they aren't scared of me" Steve says trying to make himself feel better, "well at least they think I'm fun" you reply back in an instant to Steve's remark. "At least we're viewed as their parents" Steve says looking into your eyes with a boyish grin. "You know what, you're right, at least they look up to us" you reply back to Steve before leaning in to kiss him which Steve kissed back in an instant.

"WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?!?!" Mike exclaims in a loud tone since he just caught you and Steve making out AGAIN.

-----------------------------∆-------------------------------

Pls don't be a silent reader and I hope u enjoyed

[sailor-aviator]

Singing in the Sanctuary: Prologue

Singing in the Sanctuary: Prologue

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is a simple man. Well, as simple as one can be while living a life of crime. The notorious outlaw has never been interested in settling down and having a family, but will that all change when he meets a shy, new teacher who just moved into town?

Warnings: Pressure from parents, use of y/n, other than that I don't think there are any, really.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I am equally excited to be writing this one as I am my Hangman series. I think y'all will like this one too. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. You can find this and my other works on AO3 under sailor_aviator. 18+ only!!!

Series Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

Women weren’t meant to have careers. Woman were meant to cook, clean, have babies, and make sure their husbands were taken care of. Then you became an old woman and one day you’d be buried next to said husband. At least, that’s what your parents had always told you. When they found out that you were pursuing a career as a teacher, they tried everything in their power to convince you otherwise.

“It’s just not proper for a young lady of your background to have a career, y/n” said your mother.

“I’ve had suitors asking for you hand for years now. Why don’t you get married and then think about continuing your education?” your father had coaxed. You couldn’t be swayed, however.

It had been your dream from a young age to become a teacher. You had always admired the ones you had growing up, and learning had always come easy to you. You wanted others to experience the joys of learning like you had, and that’s how you found yourself ignoring your parents’ wishes.

It had certainly been hard work, but it was work you were proud of. When you graduated, your parents had been more relieved than proud.

“Surely you’ll find a husband now, darling,” your father had said hopefully. Your mother nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, sweetheart! My friends have the most dashing sons who would just love-”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Mama, Papa, please-”

“We just want what’s best for you,” your father said hurriedly. You grimaced, but in the end you had allowed your mother to set up several luncheons with your would-be suitors. They hadn’t been horrible. No, in another life, perhaps you would have even been excited at the idea of marrying one of them. Settling down in a spacious, white house with blue shutters. A white picket fence encompassing the yard, and little ones running around joyfully while your husband and you looked on. And it’s not like that wasn’t your dream. No, in fact, you wanted all of that. But your dream also included teaching.

It was hard finding a job in your hometown in Missouri. And that’s why you had jumped at the chance to move west. You hadn’t told your parents about the opportunity, and for good reason. They would have stopped at nothing to keep you from going. You had stumbled upon this chance of fate when you had stopped by the general store to by ingredients for supper that evening.

“Maverick’s not a city, mind you,” said the old man as he dropped the box of fresh produce onto the counter by the clerk. “But it’s got character, and it’s growin’ every day! The mayor is even talkin’ bout buildin’ a school here soon. Told me to spread the word that we’re lookin’ for a new teacher.”

“Excuse me,” you had interrupted. Both men turned to look at you. “Could you tell me more about this job?”

“Well, it’s a real good opportunity, now, miss,” grinned the old man. “The town ain’t that old, and like I said, it’s gettin’ bigger every day. The townsfolk is all friendly and the mayor is offerin’ up a fair wage.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “And where is this town? Is it far?”

“It’s located out in the territory they’re callin’ New Mexico. It’s ‘bout a week’s ride from here to there.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling giddy at the thought of trekking west.

“How long will you be in town, sir?” you ask. The man scratches his chin thoughtfully before leveling you with a look.

“I’ll tell you what,” he began, “I’ll stick around for another day. If you decide you wanna catch a ride with me back to Maverick, you jus’ meet me by the gate leadin’ outta town ‘round noon. How’s that?”

You grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

You had packed your bags quickly, waiting until both of your parents had left the house the following day. You wrote a note explaining why you were leaving and where you were going, and then gave one last look at the house you’d called home your entire life. Taking a steadying breath, you made your way down to the gate the man had mentioned.

“Good timin’!” he hollered upon seeing you. “Was jus’ about to head on out.”

“Thank you for waiting!” you called breathlessly, setting your bags on the back of the cart and rounding to the front. The man offered you a hand as you clambered up onto the seat, and once he had made himself comfortable, the two of you were on your way.

The days passed quickly as you and the man, Hondo you would come to find out is his name, made your way to your new beginning. The heat became more intense the further south you traveled, and luscious green gave way to arid desert. On your second day of being in the desert, you saw the outlines of a town in the distance.

“There she is!” grinned Hondo. “Ol’ Maverick herself!”

“How exciting!” you smiled. About a half hour later, the two of you were riding along the streets of said town. People bustled up and down the streets and went about their business as usual. Joel stopped the cart just outside of a large, wooden building.

“This here is town hall,” he said. “I’ll getcha in to see Maverick, and he’ll getcha situated.”

Your brows furrowed. “Maverick?”

“Pete Mitchell is his name, but most folks ‘round here just call him Maverick or Mav. He founded the town, and it’s named after him.”

“I see,” you breathed, taking Hondo’s hand as he helped you down onto the ground. He walked with you up the steps and through the door of town hall.

“Hondo!” cried a man as you both entered. The man was handsome with dark hair that greyed around his temples. His skin was golden from what you could only assume was hours spent in the desert sun, and his blue eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of your companion.

“Maverick,” smiled Hondo. The man, Maverick, stopped before you two and his eyes glanced over you.

“And who is this here with you?”

“Mav,” started Hondo, stepping back to gesture at you, “allow me to introduce Miss y/n. She’s here to be our town’s new teacher.”

“Excellent!” grinned Maverick, taking your hand and giving it a firm shake. “You’re really helping us out here. I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you smiled. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

“Nonsense! Now, I’m assuming you don’t have a place to stay at the moment?”

“No,” you blushed, looking down sheepishly. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Maverick beamed. “Well, until we can get the school and a house for you built, you’ll just have to stay with me and my wife, Penny.”

“Oh, Mr. Mitchell, I couldn’t!” You exclaimed. Maverick raises a hand to stop you.

“Please, call me Maverick or Mav. And I insist. It’s the least we can offer considering you came all this way.”

You smiled gratefully. “I appreciate that, Maverick. In the meantime, where am I to teach the children?”

“For now, why don’t you teach our little rascals in the sanctuary of the church? I’m sure the Reverend won’t mind.”

“That sounds lovely,” you gushed. You couldn’t wait for the start of your new life.

[gimmethatagustd]

✨ important blog update ✨

Dear esteemed colleagues,

Please read the entirety of this post. 😭 Or at least the TLDR at the end.

You may have noticed that there has been a shift in the type of fics I've been writing (mxm). You also may have noticed that I've been fairly open lately about how I've struggled with writing reader-inserts for a long time for various reasons, and I want to be upfront with y'all about how I'm doing. Thus, I have an important update about the future of this blog:

I'm opening requests indefinitely because I will only write reader-insert fics if they're submitted as requests, if they're part of my 100 Drabble Challenge, or if I randomly find inspiration.

For now, I don't want to completely stop writing reader-inserts because I really enjoy sharing my stories with those of you who prefer them. Unfortunately, every cool idea I come up with only inspires me to write mxm fics. That's why I'm reopening my requests. I want to continue exploring reader-insert fics based on what you're interested in (assuming I'm comfortable with the request).

Of course this means I’ll write the fics y'all requested for my "part 2 when?" anniversary game, so don't worry! I'm actually very excited about those. However, I won't be finishing any incomplete reader-insert series.

This blog and my moots/followers have brought me so much joy over the past 2 years. It's my safe space and, hopefully, a safe space for y'all. Some of you will probably be disappointed by my decision, but please don't see it as the end of anything. I'll still write reader-inserts; they'll just be more infrequent. If you want to be notified whenever I write a reader-insert, you can join my taglist(s) and/or subscribe to my reader-insert AO3 account (daddytaehyungie).

That's all I have to share for now. If anything changes, I'll let y'all know, of course. I just want to be honest about my struggles and the solution I hope will help me enjoy writing again.

💜 your bestie, jai

TLDR: Jai is opening up their requests forever because they can't find inspiration to write reader-insert fics anymore, but they still want to write them for you if you have any ideas for fics you'd like to read.

[ofdinosanddais1]

Heartbreak High Season 2 Spoilers

So... lots of shit happened in the finale.

1): I like that they're setting up a redemption for Sasha and Spider. Both have done such horrible things on complete opposite ends of the spectrum but it's nice to see they could have a path to growth.

2): For Spider, I'm hoping to see more of his home life. I am thinking his father abused both him and his mom and his mom had a traumatic response which made her fear men including her own son. I think she pushed him away when she should've helped him because that's her kid and he reacted in his own way. And that does not absolve him of his wrongdoings, it means he has to sort through this shit in order to grow and prevent further harm to others. I would love to see more discussion on that in the third season. I would love for Spider to have a retribution and closure arc not for his own wellbeing (although it's a factor) but because there are boys watching this show who might have experienced things like him who might want to know it's okay to feel emotions and to see the damage that his actions did to show that it's not a healthy thing to do and it hurts a lot of people. I said redemption arc because that's probably what the show is setting up for but I think "redemption" should be left ambiguously like he's trying to be better but his actions have lasting consequences on the people he's hurt and he will always be making up for that. Changing for other people is not about being seen as the good guy but doing your best to prevent further harm. It's a complicated thing to deal with but I think showing that complexity like they have before is so important for kids watching this show.

3): I would fucking adore to see a Sasha redemption arc mostly for my own experience with other people who behaved like her who never learned from their mistakes for treating me differently because I'm autistic. Some of y'all might not want a redemption arc for her but like, I would fucking love to see her apologize and acknowledge what she did wrong and show change. Even if it's hard to do at first because no one will be perfect on the first try. After the lack of a genuine apology from Sia and her actions to the autistic community and how she continues to victimize herself, I just really want an allistic person to apologize and do better and I think the set-up for that in season 3 is PERFECT. Hopefully, there's a way for Quinni to still be school captain with Sasha as her co-captain because I think a message of uplifting people in communities you are not a part of is an EXCELLENT message. Sasha could step back with being the leading voice in this and allow Quinni to be a voice in her life as being autistic. Then this could expand to Sasha stepping back and uplifting other people's voices and learn that activism is about bringing people together and allowing space to share ideas and not trying to call out every single action she thinks is wrong. Overall though, I don't want them back in a relationship. I think the captain/vice-captain friendship could be fucking GREAT.

4): My heart fucking hurts for Cash. During that whole episode where he was on that boat with Chook, I was so fucking scared it was gonna be a jumping out situation but I fucking hope Chook doesn't mess with Cash or Harper anymore. He fucking had a deal and I don't want any redemption for Chook whatsoever. Crime and recidivism reduction is a special interest of mine and I fucking hated that Cash was in that situation to begin with and it's a perfect example of how vulnerable people join gangs. I am so fucking elated that this show is doing a great job of representing crime, recidivism, and police brutality. I'll have to research the prison system in Australia because I wanna see the similarities between Australia and the US's prison system. But YES. NAIL ON HEAD. A lot of teenagers and children join gangs because they are vulnerable whether that be an abusive home life such as Cash being in a group home then in Chook's gang before his grandma brought him to her home. How your family, your friends, your loved ones are all in danger when you are trying to leave a gang. I'm so fucking relieved that hopefully Cash can be free. I don't trust Chook's word though and that stuff always haunts people who often have no choice. I just want him to be safe and loved and cared for. He deserves so much better.

5): Kinda disappointed that Harper and Amerie didn't have a conversation on how Harper treated her but I think I still like their arc. I don't think that they're in anyway on the best terms they could be but I think it's because that Amerie views relationships transactionally in the way that she thinks she has to give every cent of her self to make other people accept her and I wanna see more of Amerie's story. For one, we know she has a sorta strict mom. For two, I've never seen anything about her dad. I'm wondering if there was an incident in her peer group in the earlier days or a situation in her home life where she feels like she constantly has to give 200% just to feel like she deserves even 5% of something. I really want the showrunners to tackle that kind of stuff in the third season. I want Harper and Amerie to have some kind of realization that their friendship is more complicated and I want Amerie to just have a god damn break for once. Have like a filler episode or gods just a fucking nap. I want Amerie to get like a cold where Harper or Darren or someone just helps her out while a bunch of crazy shit happens at school. Give my girl a break.

6): I fucking hate Rowan. He's manipulative but also traumatized. BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW GREAT SAM RECHNER DID PORTRAYING HIM??? It's like he woke up one day as Rowan like his acting was fucking PHENOMENAL. If Rowan is in the third season, I'm not going to be mad because I fucking love Sam Rechner's portrayal of a teenager that is aggressive and touchy and just... how tf do I put this... a sort of trauma-touched angry that is not the typical portrayal of "I'm angry because I'm traumatized" but just representative of people who are like him if that makes any fucking sense??? Idk how to describe his attitude and mannerisms because there us definitely trauma laced with his actions but you can also tell through his backstory that this shit didn't start with his trauma or at least not the one we saw in the beginning. It's kinda like the signs of a serial killer but (hopefully) those signs are recognized and he is placed in a treatment that can focus on protecting himself and others. I don't think his behaviors will go away and I would not be surprised if he's not in the second season because he was institutionalized because that seems like a natural progression.

It's weird to talk about Rowan because there are signs that his trauma has influence on his behavior but is not the sole cause of his behavior. I don't want to put some kind of diagnostic label on him and I encourage everyone else to also not put a diagnostic label on him because I think most people watching (including myself) have the psychological knowledge to put a label on him without demonizing other mental illnesses because I see a lot of behaviors that can be attributed to some psychological problems but I'm not educated enough to talk about that without demonizing people with those mental illnesses who act so far from his other behaviors. So, I don't recommend other people putting a label on him because, even with good intentions, there are people who would want to use Rowan as a reason to demonize real life mentally ill people. But, I do not fucking like him as a person. I love the characterization. But fuck him to the sun, man. He was manipulative of Amerie and he was trying to forget Amerie but his thoughts did result in harmful actions and I think the best retribution would be deep psychiatric help but knowing the mental health industry, the kind of help he needs does not currently exist and that fucking sucks. If he is in the next season, I'm not going to complain because holy fuck I loved the character in the realm of his writing like the writer room for Heartbreak High deserves a fucking award.

Overall, my thoughts on the season were that I love how complicated everyone is. The characters feel like actual people that exist in real life. They feel loved and cared for and I hope netflix greenlights a third season. I've seen a LOT of people recently who hadn't watched the first season come out but got a netflix account specifically to watch Heartbreak High and that kind of thing is what netflix WANTS so I'm a little more hopeful that a third season might get greenlit. I'm excited to see what the showrunners do next.

Again, gonna say that, whatever behaviors that Rowan has that can be attributed to certain mental health disorders, let's just consider what fuel we're adding to the fire.

And because some people did this, remember that the actors are not the characters. A lot of people bullied Gemma for Sasha's actions but Gemma is the actor playing Sasha, she is not actually Sasha. She did a fantastic job so it might be confusing but she is not Sasha and does not deserve the hate she gets for her wonderful portrayal. This goes for EVERY actor.

[random-writer-23]

The Mechanic (Poe Dameron x reader)

Summary: Reader is a rebellion mechanic for ships and droids, and on repeated occasions is sought out by Poe.

Word count: 7,239

Warnings: Poe being a desperate loser but in an affectionate way, Mentions of injuries, probably canonical inaccuracies, star wars cursing, X-wing crash.

Edit: wow this fic has gotten over 100 interactions y’all are amazing ily!!!

A/N: I hope you like this one shot, this is my first time writing for Poe so hopefully I get better at writing for him. Also fun fact this is my 70th post so thats cool. Also I am looking for beta readers to read my works before I publish them to the rest of y'all so if that's something that you are interested in see the pinned post on my profile for more information. Anyway enjoy my lovelies, and as usual, any and all comments, likes, Follows, and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Happy reading!

My workshop, my own personal safe haven, and the place where I'm currently making some small changes to a device prototype that would hopefully allow better cloaking for our rebellion ships. All I needed was a few more tweaks and then I'd be able to run some diagnostic tests to see if it works. I hum a random tune to myself while I unscrew the cover so I can tweak it. The door to my workshop slides open with a loud woosh, and I'm ambushed by the electronic beeping of one of my favorite droids.

"bee po woooip" BB-8 screams entering my shop and rolling to a stop at my feet.

"Hey BB" I respond putting my cloaking device aside so I could focus on BB-8. "what's up buddy" he responds with a couple of beeps and my eyebrows furrowed giving him a once-over look. "Kriffing hell, BB I just did your matinence upkeep last week what happened?!" I groaned guiding the droid over to a ramp he could roll up to get to my eye level. I put the screwdriver I was holding in my tool belt and walked over to my tool chest to get the tools I'd need to fix BB-8's problem. "Alright BB let's see what the problem is," I said and he chirped happily in response. I pulled my magnifying goggles over my eyes so I could see him closely.

"ooh BB okay, I think I see the problem, some of the wires over here got crossed, and then your gyroscopic regulators are all out of sync, no wonder you're not moving as smoothly as usual. and OH BB! This whole plate over here is broken, and these circuits over here are completely fried! How'd this happen!" I exclaimed continuing to examine the damage done to my favourite droid.

"weoop" He said dejectedly, and I chuckled buckling myself in for a long story.

--Time skip--

It turns out that BB-8 got all his so-called injuries, on a classified mission transporting valuable and delicate information to another rebellion base. However, he and his companions ran into some trouble with the empire. After his long-winded explanation about everything that went wrong, I cut him some slack and forgave him for ruining all the things I fixed last time.

I worked on BB-8 for more than an hour before finally fixing all his problems and getting him back to perfect working condition, then even after I fixed his issue, I sat and spoke to him about some of the upgrades I was developing for him, and for some of the other droids on the base.

"ooh, you know what I can do for you BB?" I asked flitting around my workshop quickly rummaging around to find the newest prototype I was working on for the droids on base. I brought it excitedly back to BB-8, and began explaining some of the upgrades I was giving him. 

"Now BB this signal booster I made will allow you to transmit signals to the next planet over, depending on how far away it is. I'll work on distancing issues soon"

"Waaaaaaaooopp" BB-8 chittered excitedly and I blushed.

"Oh BB you flatter me, but anyone could've done it, it wasn't that difficult," I replied with a smile as I installed the amplifier to his antennae. But was interrupted by the door of my workshop once again opening with a loud woosh. But instead of a droid or one of my fellow mechanics coming in for a chat, it was a voice I was unfamiliar with.

"Hey BB you in here?" The voice of a man called and I turned around to face him. I looked at him blinking in surprise as I forgot my magnifying goggles were still on my face, I took them off my eyes and put them on my head.

"who's asking," I asked taking my glasses off and laying them on the table next to me, so I could get a good look at the man who'd invaded my safe haven. 

"uh, Poe... Poe Dameron?" He replied as if it was a question, looking around my workshop in wonder. I turned in my chair to look at BB-8 who beeped happily and gave a little spin. The man, Poe, walked further into my workshop, glancing at all the gadgets and tools scattered around.

"yeah, uh sure come on in" I mumbled disgruntled by this man coming into my workshop uninvited, but I turned back to BB-8 with a smile on my face. "Almost done, BB" I mumbled putting my goggles back on and finishing installing the amplifier. "Alright BB, my new signal amplifier is still a prototype so you come back to me right away if you detect any problems okay?" I told him guiding him down the ramp, and over to Poe, who stood at attention when I turned to face him. "Now Poe, it's Poe right?"

"uh, y-yeah, ahem, yeah it's Poe" He stumbled over his words before clearing his throat, I threw him a small smile before giving him care instructions for BB. In the low light of my workshop, I saw his face flush.

"Well, then Poe" I put extra emphasis on his name, "I fixed all of the problems BB came in with, so he's as good as new, however, I did install a prototype signal amplifier that if it works as it should, will allow him to transmit across planets." I watched his eyebrows raise.

"impressive" He murmured

"I know" I responded with a smile. "But I just need you to watch over BB and ensure he takes things easy so he won't have to come back in for repairs too soon. And also bring him in immediately if you notice him malfunctioning" I instructed grabbing a towel and wiping the grease off my hands. BB rolled down the ramp from my table and rolled next to us. I looked back up at Poe, who had a dopey half-smile on his face, and even though the light in my workshop was dim, I could tell he was handsome. I'd heard about Poe Dameron, I'd just never run into him or introduced myself. Surprising considering he was the commander of an x-wing squadron and I was a mechanic, who fixed x-wings. But it was neither here nor there, I'd simply never had any reason to talk to him. I ushered BB and Poe towards the doors in an effort to get them out of my workshop. 

"So what you're saying is I'm invited to come see you again?" He asked leaning against my doorframe and swatting at BB-8 who was trying to usher him out of the room.

"Only If BB is with you... and if you don't track mud into my workshop again" I said looking at the trail of mud he brought inside, before kneeling down and placing a kiss on BB's head and ushering them out, quickly closing the door behind them before Poe could speak again. I heard BB-8's accusatory chittering through the door.

"No BB I'm not into her, I just met her, I just..." BB-8 interrupted him with more beeps and I chuckled. "no you know what, shut up, I've been looking for you for hours and you were there the whole time? Told me you were going to get repaired but didn't tell me you were going to get repaired by a cute girl. Conveniently left that part out" He replied their voices fading away. 

I laughed walking back to my desk picking scraps up as I walked, trying to clean up and put stuff away. 

--Time skip--

I was still trying to perfect my cloaking prototype when I got a buzz on my radio and simultaneously heard the woosh of my door open, and BB-8's electronic shrieking entered the room.

"Huh, Slow BB I can't understand you." I spun in my chair taking my goggles off my head to look at the droid. BB shrieked and beeped a little slower this time and I finally understood what he was trying to tell me. "They need me at the landing dock?" I clarified and he spun in a circle beeping his agreement. "For emergency repairs!?!" Why didn't you say so!" I explained jumping out of my seat. BB shrieked exasperated, as I hurried around my workshop grabbing tools I'd possibly need for the repairs. Once I grabbed everything I could possibly need I rushed out of my workshop and BB-8 rolled along behind me as fast as he could. Once we got to the landing bay I was completely out of breath from my sprinting, I mean running was hard enough on its own but running while towing a bunch of tools forget about it. I stopped in front of General Leia trying to calm my racing heart and catch my breath.

"Ah (y/n)! You're here! Perfect" General Leia said calmly and by her tone of voice if I wasn't previously made aware of the Emergency I wouldn't even know we had one.

"Reporting for duty General" I smiled having finally caught my breath "where do I start?" I adjusted my grip on my toolbox while she filled me in on what happened. I nodded along as she explained trying to contain my excitement at the number of repairs that were needed considering this was a somber occasion. As she came to the end of her explanation, I saw Poe walking by out of the corner of my eye, and I silently prayed that he would simply walk by. However the force was not on my side at the moment and he noticed the general and I. His face lit up when he made eye contact with me, and he turned around so he was walking towards us.

"Now I've divided up the repair tasks with you and the other mechanics but you're the only one I trust to make all the major repairs, you are my best mechanic you know this" General Leia explained and I beamed with pride.

"Thank you General, I'll get to work right away!" I replied trying to escape the conversation before Poe made it to us.

"I told you, you can call me Leia" She insisted at my formal manner, and I nodded with a smile.

"Ooh hoo on a first-name basis with the general?" Poe asked stopping next to us, as Leia and I Rolled our eyes in sync.

"I am... aren't you?"  I shot back and I saw the corner of Leia's mouth twitch upward. "Actually don't answer that, I have work to do" I nodded goodbye at Leia and spun around whipping my hair in Poe's face walking towards my first ship.

"Doing repairs are you?" Poe asked trailing behind me and I didn't answer him hopefully he'll get the hint and leave me alone. Thankfully I didn't have to answer him cause Leia did it for me. 

"Yes she is, so leave her alone! That's an order, Dameron!" Leia yelled after us and Poe spun around to face her walking backwards so he was still following me.

"Nice try general but we both know I don't listen to orders!" He shot back and I scoffed, "Besides she's got so much work to do she's gonna need an assistant" He saluted the general and ran to catch up with me. Which wasn't very hard considering I was weighed down by a giant toolbox. I tried to speed up as I heard his footsteps closing in but it was no use. He caught up and slowed his pace to walk next to me, and I felt the weight of my toolbox lighten as he lifted it and took it from my hand. I didn't argue with him carrying my toolbox considering it was quite heavy and he carried it all the way to the ship I was supposed to repair first. I pointed to an area on the ground where Poe could set my toolbox down.

"You can put my toolbox down over there" I mumbled walking to the side of the ship that has the most damage.

"So she speaks!" He grinned setting my toolbox down where I instructed, walking over to where I stood. I huffed my displeasure at his presence and ran my fingers over the damaged hull and cringed. Muttering to myself and making a mental note of things I need to fix. "Soo how long have you been working for the rebellion?" Poe asked leaning against the ship.

"Don't lean on that" I instructed and he stood up putting his hands in the air. "And pretty much as long as I can remember" I replied to his question pulling a wrench out of my belt and unscrewing one of the damaged plates on the ship's hull. Pulling it off with a huff I tossed it to the side causing Poe to have to jump out of the way to avoid it. I wiped some sweat off my face effectively smearing dirt and grease on my face.

"Woah watch it" he chuckled "you uh got some dirt on your face" he commented and I scoffed.

"Yeah it kind of comes with the job description" I shot back pulling another damaged plate off the hull. Smiling at the satisfying clank of metal on metal when I threw it with the other plate.

"She jokes too! By the way, you never gave me your name" He said trailing his sentence off purposely.

"Maybe I don't want to" I replied putting my magnifying goggles over my eyes so I could take a look at the engine.

"And why not?" He asked incredulously.

"Because you'll take that as an invitation to keep bothering me" I sighed, what the hell did the pilot do to this engine?

"Yeah you're right, but even without your name I'll just bother you more until I get it" he smirked.

"Listen Dameron-"

"Poe" he corrected.

"Listen Poe, I've got a lot of repairs to get done, and I like to work in peace and quiet so If you're going to sit here and bug me, you can at least make yourself useful and help" I huffed turning towards him with a frown.

"Fine fine, I know when I'm not wanted" He muttered surrendering and backing away from the ship.

"Obviously you don't" 

"I'll just catch you when you're not so busy next time" he grinned and I shook my head.

"Please don't," I said hurriedly but he turned a blind ear as he walked away.

"See you soon gorgeous!" He shouted picking his pace into a slow jog as he walked away. My face flushed at the compliment. 

I turned back to the ship in desperate need of repairs and cracked my knuckles anxious to get started on repairs and make actual progress. However even while I started getting into the ship repairs Poe stayed on my mind. I had to admit he was funny, funny and very handsome. But he was annoying, and he's a squadron commander, and I'm just a mechanic. So he's way out of my league not that I was thinking about Poe like that he was annoying, and kept bothering me, but he was very sweet. But I had to stop thinking about him, it was interferring with my work, and I had a ton more repairs to do by the end of the day. 

--Time skip--

I had finally managed to carve out a section of time for me to just sit in my workshop play some music and work on my cloaking prototype I had fixed all the visible bugs and was ready to run diagnostics on it. I stood up from my chair and scurried over to my computer trying not to giggle in excitement. Hooking up my prototype to my computer I loaded up my diagnostics program and attached the prototype to a piece of scrap metal so I could test it. I input the dimensions of the scrap metal and hovered my finger over the run diagnostic button when the door of my workshop opened with a loud whoosh. I audibly groaned and hoped for whoever was there that they had an excellent reason for interrupting me. Cause if they didn't I'd skin them alive and use them as a doormat. I heard BB-8s panicked beeps as he searched my workshop for me.

"Over here BB" I signaled him over to where I was and he started over to me. I was always happy to see BB-8, so I didn't mind him interrupting my diagnostic test.  "What's u-" I was interrupted by another person entering my shop.

"Kriff, BB you were going so fast I couldn't keep up" the now all too familiar voice of Poe Dameron accosted my ears as he entered my workshop. I audibly groaned looking at BB-8 my eyes full of betrayal. "Alright don't be too excited to see me now" he joked coming over to where I was with BB-8, I schooled my features into one of mock annoyance. 

"Don't worry I'm not" I mumbled, throwing a meaningful glance at my computer, I shut down my diagnostic program turning it off. It would have to wait till later. "So what can I do for you boys" I spoke mostly to BB-8 but it was Poe who spoke.

"So I wouldn't bother you unless I really needed to"

"That's a lie"

"Yeah that's a lie, but my ship got damaged on its last flight" Poe explained rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. My face lit up at the prospect of being able to fix something.

"And you want me to fix it" I clarified

"Of course! The general said it herself you're the best mechanic the rebellion has at its disposal" I blushed at his words. "Besides none of the other mechanics are half as cute as you are" he flirted and I was rendered speechless for a moment, my face starting to heat up.

"And here I was thinking that old Bolban was your type" I shot back turning away from him under the disguise of gathering my tools in my toolbox so he didn't see my face flushing. Maker, Poe has a way of weaseling his way into your heart, just the way you don't want him to. 

"Oh please Bolban is way out of my league" he replied and I laughed, covering my face with my hand in a lame attempt at hiding it. "Aha she laughs" he pointed out victoriously as I picked up my toolbox so I could go fix his ship. He pushed my hand away picking it up for me and walking out of my workshop without another word. My eyes followed him out of the workshop and I gave BB-8 a sideways glance. BB beeped a response and rolled after Poe. 

"He is not growing on me!" I whispered loudly at BB-8 as I ran to catch up with the two. I caught up to them and started asking Poe about his ship. "So what exactly is wrong with your ship?" I asked as he continued leading me towards where he landed it.

"Well it just wasn't running as smoothly as normal, the controls were jerky and I couldn't stabilize properly" he replied offhandedly "My turn for a question so what's your name?" He asked hurriedly. I squinted my eyes at him.

"This isn't a ask questions back and forth game Poe I'm trying to fix your ship" I insisted furrowing my eyebrows, in mock annoyance.

"But it could be a question game, think about it" He winked and put my toolbox on the ground next to his ship. 

"But it's not, so I'll take a look at it and let you know what I find" I informed him double checking my tool belt to make sure I had most of my main tools in there. Waving him off. 

"Uh no, it's my ship, I'm staying" he insisted crossing his arms stubbornly. I almost started protesting but there really was nothing I could do about it. It was his fighter jet after all.

"Fine, you can stay, but you better make yourself useful" I mumble dreading spending time with Poe significantly less than normal. 

"Yes ma'am" He saluted sarcastically giving me a wink, and I turned my face away from him, to hide my flush. Maker what's wrong with me? I'm supposed to find him annoying, he's done nothing but bother me for the past couple weeks. 

—time skip—

I spent over an hour checking on Poe's x-wing trying to find any evidence that something was wrong with it. But no matter where I looked his ship was in perfect condition as far as I could tell. I climbed down from the hull of his jet and turned to Poe once I got to the ground. "I just don't know what to tell you, Poe, your ship seems to be in perfect condition" I informed him and he furrowed his eyebrows. He opened his mouth about to respond when Finn walked by.

"(Y/N), Poe! hey guys!" He shouted happily, giving me and Poe a hug. I looked at Poe to see if he had caught Finn's use of my name and it took him a minute but it finally sunk into his thick skull that Finn had used my name.

"(Y/N)" he pointed accusingly at me "your name is (y/n)" he insisted.

"Yes fine my name is (y/n) don't wear it out" I huffed crossing my arms and sending a frown toward Finn, who looked between the two of us confused. "Thanks a lot Finn" I mumbled. 

"what what'd I do?" he asked, confused, and Poe answered him

"I've been trying to get her name for the past 3 weeks, and she hasn't been giving it to me, but now thanks to you Finn, I have it" He beamed proudly, and my heart fluttered a little at the sight. How could he get so happy over just learning my name. 

"Yeah that was for a reason, but as I was saying Poe, I can't seem to find anything wrong with your ship" I changed the topic quickly, and Finn looked at me confused. 

"Of course, there's nothing wrong with his fighter" He looked between the two of us, and I watched Poe's eyes widen, and he cleared his throat repeatedly. "Shut up Poe, but yeah I saw him getting his ship diagnostic when he came in earlier" He looked at me with a shrug. 

"Pft Finn doesn't know what he's talking about that wasn't my fighter diagnostic" Poe tried to explain, but Finn interupted him. 

"Uh yes it was, I heard his diagnostic guy say yeah everything's good as usual Poe, and then you said perfect flying as usual, and then you-" Finn faltered off in his sentence as Poe elbowed him in the stomach. 

"Alright, Finn she gets it" He hissed pushing Finn away who hunched over cluching his stomach. I looked at Poe, an unemused expression on my face, my hand on my hip and my wrench clutched tightly in my other. Poe laughed nervously. "Haha well you uh see, um so I y'know," he trailed off as I narrowed my eyes at him. "Alright fine! My x-wing is in perfect condition, I lied so you'd be forced to talk to me" he admitted.

"Are you Kidding me, Dameron? I could have been in my workshop the whole time testing my prototype!" I fumed poking him in the chest. "But noooo you just had to come bother me and make up a story so I'd waste hours trying to fix a ship that DIDN'T NEED FIXING!" I screamed and Finn backed away slowly.

"Yeah I'm just- I'm gonna" He pointed off in another direction and ran that way leaving Poe to be the sole bearer of my fury.

"Hey hey hey (y/n)" he held his hands out in front of him. "The day wasn't a total waste..." he trailed off seeing my foot tap on the floor quickly. " I mean come on... I know your name now." He finished speaking a goofy half smile on I his face as I screamed my frustrations. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down pointing an accusatory finger at Poe.

"If you ever, and I mean EVER step foot into my workshop, or approach me to talk to me without having either an actual proper emergency. Or strict orders from a superior to come to get me, I will murder you in your sleep. Do you understand me, Dameron?" I threatened him my voice lowered to a deadly calm, and for once he had no snarky remark. He simply nodded and I watched his shoulders deflate as I smiled satisfied with his agreement. "Good" I announced turning sharply on my heel and walking back to my workshop.

"She's even hotter when she's angry BB" I heard Poe sigh wistfully behind me and BB-8 beeped sarcastically in response. I resisted the urge to turn back to look at him, and continued to stomp away leaving him behind me. What was it that made him keep seeking me out, not that I was complaining, a hot, funny guy persistently trying to get my attention? It's not the worst thing that could happen to me. As I entered my workshop I caught myself smiling over thoughts of Poe, in all his annoyingness, the pilot was kind of growing on me. But I'd rather be shot dead by a stormtrooper than let him know that.  

--Time skip-- 

It worked! My cloaking prototype worked! After having to postpone my diagnostic tests for weeks, I was finally able to block out all distractions and test it and it worked! I laughed pumping my fist in the air and doing a little happy dance around my workshop. The best feeling in the world was knowing something I created and worked hard on worked to perfection. Of course, I'd still have to test my prototype on a bigger subject before presenting it to Leia. I sat down in my chair and started writing down things I could test my device on before presenting it to the general. I knew she'd be ecstatic to see what I've come up with. I was in the middle of making my list of things I could test it on when the door to my workshop wooshed open. And the beeps of my favorite droid were heard.

"Oh BB! You're just in time!" I swiveled in my chair turning to face him a grin spread wide on my face. "My prototype is done and it works BB! Can you believe it! It actually works! A few more tests and we might be seeing this bad boy on every ship in our fleet!" I sighed wistfully talking over the little droids' beeps. It was only when he ran himself repeatedly into my leg that I snapped out of my own head and listened to what he was saying.

"What? What about Poe?" I asked in too good of a mood because of my prototype to be annoyed or even pretend to be annoyed at the mention of his name. "HE CRASHED HIS X-WING?!?" I shot up from my chair panicked. Poe is the best pilot in our whole operation if he crashed his fighter something must have gone very wrong. I grabbed as many tools as my belt could hold and ran out to the landing bay as fast as I could. I arrived in record time and searched the area for Poe's X-wing and found it quickly. Everyone was gathered around it and Finn was helping Poe climb out of the pilot's seat. Poe leaned on him heavily until his gaze caught mine and then he swatted his friend away insisting he was fine. I approached him and he smiled wincing and clutching his ribs in pain.

"Wow (y/n) if I didn't know you better I'd say you look concerned for me" he grinned masking how painful it was to simply stand there in front of me, once again swatting Finn away when he went to support Poe.

"You may annoy me Dame- Poe but believe it or not I care" I huffed watching him try to suppress a smile on his face.

"Awe you hear that Finn she cares!" He looked at Finn who gave him a grimace. "I can die a happy man" He put his hand to his forehead miming a faint, and I rushed to support him.

"Don't even joke about that you idiot" I stood him up straight. "Now what happened?" I asked trying to move out of Poe's hold, but even being injured, he sure kept a tight grip on me.

"Oh you know the usual x-wing crashes, caught in a blaster battle with some empire tie fighters and, my engine went down during hyperspace travel, luckily I managed to touch down at the launch bay, relatively safely." He retold his story animatedly, as I unknowingly held my breath.

"Dank Farrik, Poe, alright well you get to the med bay while I get started on repairing your ship," I told him trying to pass him off to Finn, who reached out to loop Poe's arm around his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, you're with me (Y/n), you're not working on my ship without me." he protested clinging onto me like a koala. Finn and I gave each other a look.

"But Poe, you have to get to the med bay, and your fighter should start undergoing repairs as soon as possible" My reasoning fell on deaf ears as Poe turned his head away. 

"my ship my rules" he insisted stubbornly. 

"Oh you- I- Kriffing hell Dameron you're stubborn! Let's get you to the med bay. Your ship will have to wait" I rolled my eyes at Poe's smug expression as he threw his arm over my shoulder keeping his other hand pressed against his ribs. 

-Time skip because I'm not a doctor- 

I sat in the waiting room of the med bay fiddling with the tools on my belt pacing back and forth. Finn watched me from where he sat. 

"You really do, care for him don't you," He remarked after a long silence, and it stunned me enough to stop my pacing. 

"I mean I barely know him..." I insisted knawing on my bottom lip. Finn raised his eyebrow. "I only met him a couple of weeks ago, but he's got a way of weaseling into your head," I mumbled laughing lightly. 

"Yeah he does... he really likes you y'know?" Finn remarked, and I turned towards him. "for real, he tells a lot of jokes and brushes a lot of things off with a laugh, but he hasn't stopped talking about the cute mechanic who made him his droid's second favorite person" Finn laughed, and my face softened. 

"I didn't know he liked me" I messed with the tools in my belt nervously. "I just thought- Kriff, I don't know what I thought" I mumbled sitting down next to Finn. 

"Just, give him a chance, or at the very least hear him out. You don't even know the crazy ideas he came to me with to try and get your attention." Finn nudged me making me look at him and laugh. I went to respond but was interrupted by the med bay nurse, she looked at us her gaze not telling.  

"We've diagnosed him and have done everything we can, now he just needs to rest and heal" she instructed, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding in. "you guys can go in and see him now" She turned and walked back through the door. Finn and I stood up at the same time and he gestured for me to go ahead. We walked through the door and found Poe's room. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him in the bed. He was going to be the death of me, His wounds wrapped up with gauze and a lazy smile on his face. 

"you stayed" he murmured and I almost didn't hear him.

"of course I did, I was" I glanced at Finn for a brief second and took a deep breath. "I was worried about you Poe" I walked closer to him and sat on the edge of his bed. 

"you were worried about me" he reached for my hand then, and I didn't pull it away. 

"Yeah but don't let it go to your head" I chuckled sniffling. Finn stepped forward. 

"How are you feeling," He asked. 

"like shit" Poe laughed, wincing and bringing his hand up to his ribs. 

"Careful man" Finn replied, and Poe waved him off. 

"I'm fine" He hissed in pain trying to sit up. 

"you're obviously not" I cut in, trying to coax Poe back to a lying down position, he refused and sat up. 

"I'm gonna go check in with the nurse and see what's wrong with him," Finn announced, giving me a meaningful glance. He walked out of the room and I listened to his footsteps fade. Poe and I sat in silence before I snuck a look at him, he was already looking at me. I took a deep breath and spoke. 

"So... Finn told me you came up with all sorts of crazy plans to get my attention" I watched his eyes widen a little before he schooled his features. 

"Yeah, well y'know" He replied nonchalantly but I heard the waver in his voice. 

"I don't actually" I giggled, and he smiled a bit as I moved closer to him. 

"I didn't have to use any of them anyway, turns out all I needed to do to get your attention was end up in med bay" He smiled. "hurts like hell but I think it's worth it to get you to care" My face flushed as I tried to hide the smile blooming on my face. "So, when I get out of this prison will you let me take you for dinner." He asked, I contemplated my answer for a moment, I nodded slightly, and he grinned widely. "Wooooo" He cheered enthusiastically, and I laughed, we fell into silence, and I fiddled with my hands. I looked back up at him, but he was already looking at me with a smile on his face. I flushed and tucked my hair behind my ear. "Can I kiss you?" He asked and I looked at him my eyes widened slightly. "Please?" He added quieter than I've ever heard him before. He sounded almost nervous. He quickly regained his composure. "I mean I'm just so wounded, and it would make me feel better." He pleaded jokingly. I chewed on my bottom lip fighting a smile, he was so handsome, I leaned forward my mouth next to his ear.

"you're so pretty, Dameron" I whispered, leaning back slightly, smiling at the awestruck look on his face, I committed it to memory and closed my eyes leaning in and pressing my lips against his. It lasted no more than a couple of seconds before I pulled away, and when I did I watched him take a deep breath. "speechless for once?" I asked teasingly, and he smiled bashfully.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while" He admitted bringing his hand up to brush some hair out of my face. I leaned into his touch, and he moved his hand to the back of my neck and pulled me in for another kiss. I leaned into it, letting him lead, moving my lips in sync with his. He pushed against me eagerly deepening the kiss. I ran my hand through his hair tugging gently, he groaned and I smiled. His hand made its way to my thigh rubbing circles with his thumb. We only broke apart from each other at the sound of a throat clearing from the doorway. 

"got a little excited there Poe?" Finn chuckled motioning to the heart monitor by his bed which was beeping quickly. Finn and I laughed,  "the doctor said they're gonna keep you here a couple more days, just to keep an eye on you." Finn announced, and Poe groaned at the thought of spending more time in the med bay bed. 

"Hey I'll come visit you" I smiled tucking my hand under his chin and giving him a kiss on his forehead, I moved back so I could leave the room with Finn. Poe didn't let me back away before giving me another kiss. He finally let me go, and I moved away from his bed. "Get some rest Poe" I smiled. 

"Come back soon!" He told me, "I'll be sure to get better fast so I can take you on that date." He smiled slyly and I rolled my eyes. 

"Alright, bye Poe" I walked out the door. Finn followed behind me. I smiled, as Finn and I walked alongside each other leaving the med bay. 

"soo... took my advice I see" He teased elbowing me, gently. 

"Oh, shut up Finn" I rolled my eyes. We walked down across the grass to get back to my workshop. We walked in silence, for half the way there, when Finn cleared his throat and spoke up again. 

"He did it on purpose, y'know" Finn said hesitantly, and I looked at him confused. 

"did what," I asked. 

"uh, crashed his x-wing... he did it on purpose..." Finn mumbled, and I looked at him my mouth falling open. "it was one of the crazy plans he came up with to get your attention after you told him not to bug you anymore when he lied about having problems with his ship. So he figured if he had an actual emergency..." Finn trailed off and I clenched my fists at my side. I. was. fuming. 

"Kriffing hell, you mean to tell me he purposefully put himself in danger just so I would give him the time of day?!?!" I shouted. "Maker, of all the stupid, recklessly idiotic, ways he could have gotten my attention he had to go and get himself hurt, and put in the med bay" I fumed, ooh when I got my hands on Dameron. I looked at Finn really quick, and he gave me a questioning look. Before I bolted running back the way we came to the med bay. 

"(Y/N)" Finn shouted after me and I heard him running to catch up with me, I sprinted into the med bay building and arrived at Poe's door right as I saw Finn turn the corner barrelling towards me. I kicked open Poe's door. 

"DAMERON" I yelled and he turned towards me a smile on his face, the smile quickly vanishing when he saw the anger displayed on my face. His expression morphed quickly into one of fear, Finn stepped into the door frame, reaching forward to grab me and hold me back. "You're an idiot Dameron, of all the ways you could've gotten my attention you had to go and injure yourself! Do you know how worried I was? What if you had died huh? What if you got so hurt you could never fly again huh?" I tried to peel Finn's hands off of me, as I yelled at Poe. "when you get out of here ooh you're gonna be in so much trouble" I yelled Finn finally being able to drag me out of the room kicking and yelling at Poe the whole time. 

"I'll see you when I'm out!" Poe yelled.

--Time skip-- 

I didn't go visit him in the med bay, I was still fuming at him for purposefully crashing his x-wing just to get my attention. It was stupid and irresponsible, but I suppose it was kind of sweet that he was so desperate to get my attention. I sighed, I should go apologize for yelling at him. It wasn't fair for me to yell at him after he'd gotten in an accident, especially since it was on my account. I sat at my desk fiddling with a bit of scrap metal, and wiring. I had to find him and apologize. I was about to get my jacket and head out to find him and apologize to him when I heard a knock at my door. I guess his apology would have to wait.

"(Y/n)" A voice called out from the other side of the door. I tried to make it out. " I know you're in there" It was Poe, he must have been released from the med bay. I walked to my workshop door and unlocked it using the keypad I had installed, the door immediately wooshed open, revealing him on the other side of the door.  "(y/n) Hey," he said earnestly when he saw me standing there.

"hey, Dameron" I mumbled, not making eye contact with him.

"back to Dameron am I?" He joked halfheartedly, "listen um" I finally looked at him and he looked back at me with these big puppy dog eyes. My throat dried up, wow he was handsome, handsome but oh so stupid. "I um, I just wanted to apologize for making you worry like that, I was just so desperate for your attention, and you just wouldn't give me the time of day, but it was no reason for me to go and risk my life like that, it was reckless and irresponsible, I'm sorry" He rambled, and I smiled, here he was after spending days in the med bay cause he purposefully crashed his x-wing to get my attention, and he was apologizing for making me worry. I looked at him with a smile and pulled him in towards me for a kiss, I pulled away from him. And he looked at me with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

"Poe, Poe, Poe, it's okay" I interrupted him, sparing him from rambling any longer. "it's okay, I overreacted" I gripped his shirt tightly. "I was just so upset 'cause it really was irresponsible and dumb of you to crash an x-wing just for my attention, I didn't like seeing you hurt, especially when there were other ways for you to get my attention" I mumbled smiling slightly. 

"I know, I know, I'm sorry" He replied pulling me in for another kiss. I smiled into the kiss, feeling his hands drift to my waist. He pulled away not going very far. "Can you ever forgive me?" He asked teasingly. 

"I guess I can" I wrapped my arms around his neck. "As long as you promise never to do it again." He nodded excitedly, "good" I gave him another soft kiss on the lips. 

"Alright, cool cool" he smiled, "So if you're not busy, Finn, Rey and I are going down for dinner at the canteen, if you want to join us." He asked and I chuckled, "yeah I know not exactly the dinner date you probably had in mind but I'll take you out, for real this week." I nodded. 

"yeah, I've got some time" I answered. I walked back into my workshop to grab my jacket slipping it on. Walking back to the door I gestured for Poe to move out of the way, and I stepped to the other side turning to lock the door with the control panel. "alright I'm ready to go" I smiled, and we made our way to the canteen his hand slipping into mine.

--Fin--

QOTD: Who's your favorite star wars character?

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[inkblot-inc]

RCD: NYFW, FYI

Summary: Now introducing the first part of what I would like to call The Fashion Week Incident. You know something's gotta happen when you have what's supposed to be a "relatively lighthearted and enjoyable event", right?; For Your Information AKA Forget Your Intentions

Pairing: Jeweler!Wanda Maximoff x Metalworker!Reader

[Everything Else in The RCD Universe] This is part 1

Warning(s): it's pretty tame actually, but I'll do a quick disclaimer- I've never attended fashion week anywhere, so don't begrudge any inaccuracies about what goes on here alright? This is all fiction for funsies, we can let that go.

Note(s): Welcome to the miniseries inside an alternate universe! This storytelling is going to look a little different bud; I was going to write this in a traditional story narrative, but in my ever-evolving ways of writing shit, I've just let the brainrot take over and wrote things as they played out in my head...Not unlike the way I write my headcanons, except this is actually in the AU timeline. I hope y'all get ✨the vision✨ and enjoy :3

Word Count: Just shy of 500

ALSO: *squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

Concerning New York Fashion Week, Wanda is attending for the majority of the week because she is looking at all the designers' new releases and fashion trends that they're introducing for the season. It would make sense that Wanda takes notes on that in regard to her own designs. Skitch is attending as Wanda's plus one, but they are also just genuinely interested in seeing more of what Wanda does as part of her job.

The first few days are a little overstimulating for Skitch, but enjoyable nonetheless. being introduced to some of the people Wanda works with and just entering into a different circle of people was both nerve wracking and exciting at the same time. Though both Wanda and Skitch were happy when they made their way back to their room at the Greenwich hotel to unwind and just decompress from the days full of networking and social and vehicular traffic.

It was on their second to last day attending the runway show for fashion week. One of the designers that was called up next was called Romanova. Skitch freezes before turning to Wanda and asking, "Who's presenting next?" And Wanda responds with "Romanova, it's Natasha Romanoff's brand."

Romanoff.

It's like your head was in a fishbowl as that info sunk in. You suddenly felt much younger; the nineteen-year-old you were the last time you saw the person with that name.

Wanda was little distracted since she was taking her notes, but she later realizes that Skitch isn't nearly as vocal for the rest of the show (since they usually make smaller comments like about the clothes as they're being modeled). They aren't even as responsive to Wanda's own small comments, and she notices that.

Wanda doesn't know what's wrong, but Skitch definitely looks a little stiffer and the smallest bit uncomfortable watching the rest of the show. Wanda keeps a hand on Stitch's thigh for the rest of the showcase in a form of comfort to hopefully ease whatever feelings came about.

The mingling after the show starts up again and Wanda is talking to designers and Skitch sees the person that made them react so perfectly: Natasha Romanoff.

Skitch separates themselves from Wanda so they won't have to be around while she and Natasha talk. Again, Wanda senses their discomfort, but Skitch goes off on their own before Wanda can articulate her concern, so Wanda just keeps a concerned eye on them as Skitch drifts off to talk to other people they met earlier in the week, away from her and Natasha.

Wanda continues her conversation with Natasha as usual; they're not the closest of friends, but they are familiar acquaintances in the industry. Let's be clear though: Wanda's not daft. It's when Skitch walks away from the approaching woman that Wanda puts two and two together that Natasha was the reason skitch became uncomfortable. Though she's more concerned as to why now...

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass Chapter 5 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley - Elvis (2022)

Read More Here - Broken Glass Masterlist! 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

TW: Allusions/emotional flashbacks to previous sexual assault/abuse. AGNSTY TENSION. Affection 'rehearsals' hehehe.The Colonel. Some historical inaccuracies.

Tags: Fake relationship. Slow burn. Angst. (Sort of) enemies to lovers. Hurt/Comfort.

Rating: PG-13? (but this story will eventually be Mature/NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)   ||     Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: Oh, my darlin's, I'm sorry this took so long, but the next installment is FINALLY HERE! And it's hefty! Hopefully the ridiculous amount of angsty, yearning, slow-burny tension makes up for the delay. 😏 I think (hope) you're really gonna like this one cuz things start to get a tad steamier between our little Dolores and our handsome Elvis. Teehee 🤭 I honestly can't wait to see what y'all think of this chapter!

And thank you SO MUCH for the encouraging comments and asks coming in about this work. I was really afraid no one was interested in this one because it's such a slow burn, but y'all are giving it some love and that makes my heart sing! ❤️ Thank you for continuing to reblog, like, comment, and ask!

(BTW, I'm still working on fixing my masterlists and hope to have that done soon! Until then, you might want to visit my Wattpad or AO3, to catch up or reread...)

The physical pressure of hundreds of screaming and crying fans coupled with reporters shouting garbled questions has you feeling as though your head might burst. You don’t know how anyone could ever get used to this or find any semblance of safety in what seems like a riot waiting to happen, but even in his weakened state, Elvis smiles charmingly at the crowd. He seems unfazed by the way these girls reach for him with wild eyes, with a fervor unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Even more, the way he hesitates tells you he wants to stop in the throng to speak to them and sign autographs. You have to squeeze his hand and pull him towards the waiting train to remind him it’s not possible, not today anyway.

For the first time, you are grateful for the way his long, slender fingers wrap around yours, his hand tight around you. You fear if he lets go you will be lost and trampled by the crowd, unable to get on the train that will take you away from the hell that awaits if you stay. You try not to think too hard about the looks the fans give you, ranging between abject curiosity to outright jealousy from the way their idol grips you.

Finally, you all make it up into the large coach, and you let out the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. You assume that Elvis will release you the moment you step into the relative quiet of the passenger carriage, but instead he wraps his arm around your waist in an intimate way that almost shocks you. It’s then, when you turn to shoot him a warning look, that you realize how pale he looks, sweat beading at his temples. He is using you to stay upright, to save face in front of everyone. Concern rolls through you. Looking over at him, your heart skips with anxiety of how to get him alone to check him out. But subterfuge is not your specialty and you falter.

Somehow, even in his illness, Elvis picks up on your dilemma. “Hey, we’re both tuckered out and are gonna get some rest,” he slurs out with a chuckle, emphasizing tuckered out and rest as though implying something completely unrelated to sleep. Normally, you would be appalled at the suggestive nature of the statement, but by the way he grips your waist as if his life depends on it, you know this has nothing at all to do with sex. He’s covering, giving you both an excuse to be alone.

Lamar gives Elvis what he thinks is a knowing grin, while the Colonel and Vernon try to hide the worry in their eyes.  

Elvis clings close to you, leaning on you as he guides you towards the next train car. You suppose to anyone looking, his weakness is confused with affection for the way he places his head on yours and holds you tight. And all this might make you uncomfortable if not for the fact that you know he’s in distress of some kind. Your mind is already whirring with what you need to do, which takes away from the fact that you’ve allowed more physical contact from Elvis in the last few days than you would have liked.

But such is the job, you think. This incredibly bizarre and unbelievable job.

In the next car, you both stumble into the narrow hallway on one side as Elvis looks through the little windows and into the private compartments until he sees his things, along with yours, on the floor. You are a little surprised at the size of the room as you both lurch through the doorway, it being equipped with everything from two larger-sized beds, a sink, and what you assume is a small toilet behind another door. You’ve never seen anything like it, considering your experience of train travel is limited to the subway and the Long Island Railroad. If you weren’t so preoccupied with helping Elvis, you might stop to admire how the other half lives.

Thankfully, someone had already retrieved your luggage, along with your medical bag, from the car and hauled it onto the train. You are suddenly mortified at the assumption that you are staying in the same quarters as Elvis. And, worse, by the looks of it, it’s true. A sick feeling churns in your stomach when you realize this won’t likely be the only time people jump to that conclusion; in fact, it’s what the Colonel and Elvis want people to think. In your haste to get out of New York, you didn’t have time to think about how such things might tarnish your reputation.

What reputation? I’m already damaged goods.

You think you might vomit at that.

Elvis plops down on the edge of one of the beds, with a sigh of what you think might be relief. “You look a little green in the gills there, honey…you all right?” he gasps out.

His words yank you from your dismal thoughts. “I’m fine,” you snap, pulling the curtains closed. Covering your embarrassment with ire, you know he shouldn’t be worrying about you anyway, not in his condition. Then you rifle through your bag for your thermometer, stethoscope, and blood pressure cuff, placing them on the bed next to him.

“Sorry I asked.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

“How are you feeling?” you ask quietly, changing the subject. “How’s your breathing?”

“I feel pretty damn awful, but I ain’t breathin’ too bad,” he responds, breathless, looking up at you with glassy, innocent eyes. Going through your mental checklist, you feel his forehead and his cheeks with your wrist. He’s cold and clammy, and a little too pale for your liking.

“You’ve got to be honest with me, Elvis, or else I can’t help you. I can hear you wheezing,” you say, popping the thermometer in his mouth before he can rebut. He shrugs instead, batting those infuriatingly long lashes at you.

You place your fingers at his pulse point and watch the second hand on your watch. Doing the math in your head, you realize his pulse is faster and more thready than you’d like.

“Can you…?” you motion towards his necktie and shirt. He nods, gleaning your meaning, and shrugs out of his heavy coat and uniform jacket, throwing them off to the side. In the meantime, you remove your own winter coat. Luckily, the coach is warm enough that you feel comfortable but not stifled by the heat.

You pluck the thermometer from his mouth. “No fever, though your temperature is slightly elevated,” you tick off, shaking the mercury in the glass out of habit.

Elvis unties his tie, pulling it off unceremoniously. “That’s good, right?” he asks, while undoing the buttons on his shirt. You notice his hands are shaking slightly and his shirt is soaked through with sweat.

“Well, based on the state of you, I’m thinking you had a fever at the base,” you say with concern, “but, yes, it’s better that you don’t have one now.”

He pauses, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his white undershirt.

“All the way off, please,” you command, and he raises a perfect eyebrow at you suggestively.

“Usually, girls are a little more excited when asking me to undress,” he says coyly, his lip raising in that smirk of his.

You roll your eyes, trying not to think about that, and hold up the blood pressure cuff instead.

“Ooh, one of those kinky types, huh?” he winks with a chuckle, which quickly turns into a hacking cough.

“Is it possible for you to be serious for more than two seconds?” you scoff, annoyed at the heat that’s risen to your cheeks despite yourself.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with faux seriousness, saluting you. He bites his lips together to hide his smile as you wrap the cuff around his bicep.

You try to temper your annoyance with the fact that he’s going through a lot and managed to put on a performance of a lifetime in front of all those reporters and fans, considering how awful he must be feeling physically.

It’s actually rather remarkable, you think, that he has that kind of commitment and fortitude. The man could barely stand a day ago and has somehow managed, through sheer willpower, to get himself out of the hospital. The hospital he should still be in.

A wave of unease washes over you when you realize you are the only one managing his care for the time being. If something happens to him on my watch…The pressure of that responsibility feels almost untenable after seeing the hordes of fans outside. Your stomach rolls again.

Distracted, you are reaching for the stethoscope when you hear the sliding door begin to move. Your heart skips a beat with panic because no one is supposed to know what you are actually here for and with your medical supplies out, it will be quite obvious to anyone looking in. Frozen and wide-eyed, there is only a second to look at Elvis before he is springing into action.

A little yelp escapes you as he yanks you down sideways into his lap and wastes no time in pulling your head towards him. When you realize he fully intends to kiss you, your entire body tenses because Gianni suddenly flashes in your mind. Fear courses through you—not again, please, not again—and you cannot seem to grasp what and why this is currently happening. Gasping, you turn your head just in time for Elvis’ pillowy lips to meet your cheek.

His large hands grip your waist tight to him, not allowing you to jump away as you attempt to flee his lap. But when his soft lips travel down your cheek and continue downward, your body suddenly lights up as though he’s set you on fire, and not at all in a way you expect. Tingles alight under your skin, circumventing your fear as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, lips pressed into your sensitive skin. Your pulse throttles ahead, a welp escaping your lips, and you freeze.

“Hey, EP, do ya want me to—” Lamar says opening the door all the way. Upon seeing the scene in front of him, he exclaims, “Oh, shit, sorry, sorry!”

“Jesus, Lamar! What have I told you ‘bout knockin’ before enterin’?!” Elvis growls, ceasing his barrage on your neck and lifting his head to glare at his friend.

You are flushing with embarrassment and confusion. But it only takes a moment for your addled brain to finally catch up to what is happening, and as to why Elvis deemed it appropriate to start necking you with no warning in front of his friend.

“I’m sorry, man, it won’t happen again! Go ahead and go back to…whatever y’all are doin’,” Lamar fumbles with a chuckle, then makes a hasty exit, the door sliding shut behind him.

The moment the latch clicks, you launch yourself out of Elvis’ lap, pushing him back as you do so. You have no doubt that not even your olive skin tone can hide the furious blush blotching your cheeks.

“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?!” you hiss at him indignantly, straightening your dress.

His voice comes out low and rumbling in a way you’ve not heard before. “Little bird, you cannot go tensing up like that every time I gotta kiss on ya. Makes it look like I was forcin’ myself on ya, and I can’t have that,” he says firmly, chastising you, his accent thick.

“Wh-what?” you sputter in disbelief. “You—you, there was no warning! How was I supposed to know what you were thinking as you…” you wave your arm at him, as though that is enough to express your jumbled thoughts, “…did whatever that was?”

Elvis rises from the edge of the bed, his eyes darkening with what you think is frustration. Your breath catches in your throat when he crosses the small space towards you, and you desperately want to counter by stepping backwards, but you force yourself to hold steady.

“I did what was necessary to hide that you are in fact my nurse and not my girlfriend.” He holds his arm, the blood pressure cuff dangling from it. “I didn’t have many options.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, your mind putting all the pieces together. It was clever, really, how he managed to conceal the cuff and all your medical supplies by the way he’d pulled you into his lap. You’re not so sure the kissing and the necking was entirely required, though he was trying to sell the ruse in the best way he knew how. No one was likely to question Elvis Presley kissing on a girl in his lap.

“I know I surprised you but being my girl in front of others is part of the job. And if you can’t do the job you were hired to do, there’s still time to get off this train,” he says, deadly serious, pointing to the door, those seemingly endless eyes never leaving yours.

“No!” you squeak. The fear pouring through your veins reminds you of the fact that Elvis holds your fate in his hands. You clear your throat before quickly following up, “No, I can…I can do it.” You force yourself to hold his gaze, to show him you are serious, too, because you cannot go back. You’ll do anything not to go back.

Elvis’ eyes search yours for a moment, and he nods. Then he looks over you almost quizzically, eyes softening.

That is when you realize you are shaking, badly. Frantically, you clasp your hands together behind your back, hiding as much as much as you can, willing your body to stop showing such weakness. You close your eyes, mortified at your behavior in front of the man you now work for. Because, as he made perfectly clear, this is your job.

Heart still pounding against your ribcage, you know the forced encounter on Elvis’ lap triggered a cascade of terror bottled up from your sickening experience with Gianni only a few days ago. Feelings you are usually able to compartmentalize are running rampant inside you and you feel upside down with fear that Elvis will unknowingly send you back into the viper’s nest you are desperate to escape.

A gentle finger under your chin lifts it, compelling your eyes up and open. Elvis’ oceanic eyes churn with concern and lock onto yours.

“I will never hurt you, Dolores,” he says, voice calm but firm.

The intuition behind his words startles you and flays you open. Your wounds are still far too fresh for this, which can be the only reason, you think, that your usual carefully walled-off exterior begins to crack.

Men have always hurt you. This one should be no different. The man is a consummate performer, a master of manipulating the masses. You have no reason to trust him, not yet.

Other than the fact that I hold his life and reputation in my hands, a quiet inner voice whispers.

But for the first time, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, it could be true.

It’s hard to look into his soulful eyes and not believe that he is good.

He holds you there a moment longer, then releases you. Your breath shudders out and you turn away quickly, swiping away the tears welling in your eyes with your still shaking hands. You force a deep breath, then another, composing yourself before you straighten and turn back to him.

Walls back up, you nod and point to the bed. “Settle, so I can take your blood pressure,” you order.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiles.

*

The more miles that are put between you and New York, the less constricted you start to feel, and that tension that Gianni or your father will magically appear and drag you back home starts to dissipate slightly. Watching the wintery landscapes race by out the window, you still can’t completely shake the feeling that danger is lurking around every corner though.

In this, you are incredibly grateful for the private coaches reserved for Elvis. It’s relieving that you don’t have to worry about Lamar or Vernon, or even the Colonel, a man you still don’t trust but you feel will not undermine you when he has nothing to gain by doing so.

Now that there is time to think, the hectic frenzy surrounding Elvis on pause for the moment, jumbled feelings about last couple of days creep up on you. After you’d quickly read and signed the Colonel’s contract, Lamar had driven you home mid-morning when you knew no one would be there to stop you from packing up your meager belongings.

You can’t help but wonder at your father’s reaction when you never came home from work, what he must have done when he found the letter you left on your dressing table, along with Gianni’s ridiculous engagement ring. The letter stated that you’d found a good job elsewhere and couldn’t in good conscience marry a man you didn’t love. There were no specifics—nothing about Elvis or even mentioning Tennessee. You figure it’s only a matter of time before someone gets wind through the press of where you’ve gone off to, but until then, you hope to put as much distance between you and your old life as possible.

Something tells you your room had probably been destroyed in a fit of rage.

You’d left notes and a little bit of money for your brothers in their rooms. There is an ache twisting in your heart that you didn’t get to tell them goodbye in person. You try not to be worried about them, as the twins are all but grown men and will protect Paul, if need be, though your father has never shown them the violence he’d aimed at you and your mother.

It’s unlikely anything will change for them anyway. After all, they’ve been groomed to serve in the famiglia since they were children. Tony is the only one who’d expressed a desire, other than you, to get out. But as much as it pains you to leave them, your little consolation is that the money might help if they wanted to go themselves. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach, but the need to survive pushes you forward regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, little Lo’?” Elvis plops down next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulders to pull you close into his side. He surprises you out of your thoughts and you jump a little in your seat. You are grateful to see that he seems better now, his color returned and his breathing normal. Your immediate instinct is to shrink away from his touch, but Lamar is sitting across from you both, watching closely enough that Elvis pulls you back towards him and grips you in the way that reminds you of the façade your job entails.

You let him hold you close, forcing a tight-lipped smile in lieu of the grimace that attempts to grace your features. “Oh, just thinking about how I’ve never been this far away from New York before,” you say, thinking on your feet. “I suppose I’m a little nervous about it.” It’s not a lie, you think, and it might explain your anxious behavior to Lamar. But after “catching” you and Elvis earlier, you don’t think Lamar even considers another option for your presence.

*

As the day and a half train ride to Memphis drags on, Elvis’ restlessness is concerning. You’ve told him he needs to sleep, or at least lie down away from the others, but he brushes you off at every turn. It’s not as though you haven’t worked your share of 24-hour shifts, but you don’t feel like you can truly rest until Elvis does—and he seems to interrupt you with conversation or bursting into song any moment your eyes begin to drift closed—that and his insistence to make an appearance at every train stop and his bouncing nerves have you irritable.

You are more than a little curious at the fact that he seemed to rebound so quickly after getting on the train and somewhat concerned that perhaps there is something more at play than you are aware of. Something behavioral? Pharmaceutical? you wonder. Or maybe he’s just excited to be going home. But you don’t know Elvis well enough yet to go throwing accusations and assumptions around. It doesn’t stop your analytical mind from trying to solve the puzzle, however.

This, coupled with your worry of what you’ve gotten yourself into and the need to keep your exhaustion at bay, has you distracted, to say the least.

So, when the Colonel corners you in the hallway of the sleeper car, your guard is down and you are not quite as prepared as you might usually be.

“Young lady, you are gonna need to improve your attitude towards our boy or else no one is gonna be convinced as to why you are travelling home with him! You think we don’t notice that every time speaks to you, you roll your eyes and when he touches you, you jump away like a startled cat?” the Colonel hisses at you. Gone is the silver-tongued man sympathetic to the plight of you completely changing your life in an instant.

Your heart catches in your throat. You didn’t think you were being that obvious. “I-I’m sorry. I am working on it, sir. I’m just not used to his-his type of affections,” you say, hating that a sliver of your fear shows in your voice because you know a man like the Colonel will use your weakness to his advantage at some point or another.

“Well, I suggest you get used to it and quick, or else we’re all gonna be in a world of trouble.” The way he looks at you suggests it is you who will bear the brunt of that trouble and your eyes go wide. “Do you understand me?”

“Oh, I’m sure she understands ya just fine, Colonel,” Elvis’ drawling voice comes from behind. You both whip around to look at him. “Don’t ya worry about a thing. I’ll get her situated before Memphis.” He seems so calm and sure of himself that you almost believe it.

The Colonel looks from Elvis to you and back again before he nods. “I’m sure you will, my boy,” he says with a warm smile, his demeanor changing on a dime. Elvis just looks at him expectantly. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He shoots you a warning glance before heading back down the tiny corridor.

Once he’s gone, you close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, praying silently, Please, God, give me the patience and ability to do what needs to be done.

“Now, Little Bird, you need to come with me,” Elvis says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the private compartment you share.

You jerk your hand out of his. “Elvis, you really need to get some rest before we reach Memphis, and so do I. You’ve been up for more than a day, and you can’t do that anymore, not in your condition. We can talk about everything else later,” you say, worn. You point to his bed as though that will be enough to mollify him while you try desperately not to think about the fact that your bed is in the same room as his.

He looks at you as though you’ve grown horns. “I ain’t sleepin’ right now, and no, this can’t wait till later cuz unfortunately, the Colonel is right. You’re as skittish as a cat and look like you want nothin’ to do with me, and everyone’s gonna get savvy to that real quick if we don’t fix it,” he says pointedly.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, your fatigue and insecurity gets the better of you. “And how exactly do you think we can fix this, Elvis? I’ve known you all of, what, three days? I’m not—I haven’t been the kind of girl who…” you trail off, stopping before you reveal too much of yourself.

He’s right, and you know it. You need to be better at this. You need to do better, for everyone’s sake. And you hate that you are the weakest link when you need to be strong. Elvis just looks at you expectantly.

Something finally snaps inside you. “I don’t know how to do this! I’m not an actress—I’m just a nurse! And I’m completely exhausted, a-and you—you! You’re like a little child who won’t go down for a nap, running yourself ragged, and you’re not making my job any easier!” you ramble into a shout, heart pounding and stomping your foot.

Silent, Elvis cocks his head at you, taking you in from head to toe. “Okay, then, you do this with me, and then I’ll try to sleep, no arguments.”

At this point, you’ll do almost anything to get the both of you some much needed rest. “Fine. But not just 30 minutes, Elvis. You need real sleep, and so do I, at least a couple of hours—no trying to get out of it to—to wave at fans.”  

He huffs. He knows you’ve caught him out, but finally, he relents. “Alright.”

“Good. Now what exactly do you want me to do to fix this?” you ask, trepidatious but relieved that sleep is in your near future. You cross your arms over your chest.

“Alright, so, I remembered something an experienced actor helped me with when my costar and I got real nervous about sharing our first on-screen kiss. We was all stiff and awkward cuz we didn’t really know each other and were both a little shy and had never done anything like that before, and I kinda liked her a little…anyways, it was real weird,” he bumbles out excitedly.

You have no idea where he’s going with this, but you’re already feeling heady with the exhaustion and nerves, your patience thin.

“I was thinkin’, well, this is like a brand-new acting job for you, right? You ain’t never done this before and you’re not comfortable with me yet, but we gotta get you there cuz we’re shooting the scene real soon, ya know what I mean?” His blue eyes are bright and excited, and you think that, yes, maybe what he’s saying is starting to make sense.

You nod slowly.

“See, all we need is some rehearsal. A way to get to know each other without everyone watchin’,” he says. His body does that thing you’ve noticed—the one where energy seems to pulse through him and he has to move. His leg is going a mile a minute. Part of you wonders if he, too, is nervous about whatever this plan of his is, and you’re not sure if that is comforting or not. For a man as worldly as you assume him to be, he shouldn’t be nervous with you, of all people. Not when he’s been with movie starlets and models.

“Little Lo’, you’re gonna have to trust me on this…can you do that for me?” he says, stepping in close to you.

You can’t help the way you counter his proximity by stepping back, your eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. What are we doing?”

Elvis looks at you with a raised brow, waiting.

“Fine. I-I guess I’ll try my best,” you finally relent.

“Okay, good,” he says softly, stepping into your space. “Now you’re gonna touch me, nice and slow.”

“Excuse me?” you yelp nearly falling backwards in your haste to move away from him.

“No! No, not like that! Maybe I didn’t phrase that so good,” he says a little bashfully, and the pink on his cheeks tells you he didn’t mean it quite the way you took it.

“What exactly did you mean, then?” You hold your breath waiting for his answer.

“Well, you do have to get used to me being in your space, honey, but I realize it’s always me pushing in on you. So, I want you to get used to being in my space, to get used to touching me before I try to touch you. But not like what you was thinkin’ before, just affectionate like,” he scrambles to explain.

You aren’t used to affectionate touches. Touch of any kind, unless it’s related to your work, is usually uninvited and without good intentions. But he’s right, this is your job now, and maybe thinking of it as such will help you. And he’s being kind and thoughtful enough to try and give you a modicum of control over this strange situation.

Your heart begins to race. “How—I mean, what should I do?” you ask hesitantly, not at all sure where to begin.

“Well, maybe start with my hands, since you’ve held them before?” he says, quietly, as though he doesn’t want to spook you. His eyes are open and honest, and nothing about him conveys aggressiveness.

I’m safe. He won’t hurt me, you chant in your head. This is just part of my job.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, stepping towards him.

“Okay.” It comes out of your mouth as a whisper. Reaching out for him, you start to take both of his larger hands in yours but stop abruptly.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you blurt out self-consciously, “or even been on many dates. That’s part of the reason why I’m not used to being touched by, or—or touching, a man.” You don’t know why you say it, only that maybe it’ll be enough of an explanation of why you are just so bad at this.

Elvis’ eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Really? A pretty girl like you hasn’t had one boyfriend?”

A flash of heat blazes your face at his compliment, which you push away. You scoff instead, “No boyfriends, and I-I can count the number of dates on one hand.”

“Your family religious? Or you just have strict parents or somethin’?” he asks, nodding, as if he knows all about girls and their strict, religious parents. But you are quite sure he knows nothing about la famiglia or the kinds of fathers who make men disappear for a living.

“Or something…and I didn’t really have time to date in nursing school. But the one man I went out with a couple of times, the one my father approves of, well…he’s not a good man,” you say quietly. Wringing your hands, you look away.

It’s all the truth you are willing to provide for now, and only because you think if you are going to try and trust Elvis, he needs to have some idea of why this is hard for you.

You look back to find his azure eyes narrowed, processing through what you’ve said, maybe putting some pieces together of why you act the way you do. There’s something almost protective in them, which shocks you, and then his eyes fill with concern.

“O-okay, then. I-I-I’m glad you told me. I-It, uh, makes more sense w-why you’re not used to this kind of thing,” he stutters. “Just take it slow. Get comfortable w-with me. I-I w-w-won’t hurt you, I promise.”

He seems more nervous than you now, and somehow that makes you feel better approaching him. You reach for his hands again, and they feel warm against your perpetually cold ones. Taking a deep breath, you settle into the feeling of his skin against yours.

This is fine. I can do this. This is easier than cleaning bed pans, you encourage yourself, your heart still pounding in your ears.

But now you don’t know what to do next and you look at him with panicked eyes.

His response is to bring his hands up, gently lacing his fingers in between yours.

Oh. Oh. This is feels more intimate than it should, but your logical mind tells you this is precisely the point of this exercise, for you to get used to it now and then outwardly show that you like it later. It doesn’t stop the other part of you from wanting to bolt from the room, however.

I’m okay. He’s not going to hurt me. Every woman I know would be clamoring at this chance to touch Elvis Presley. I can do this. I will do this, your inner voice chants at you.

After a moment, in this awkward position, Elvis clears his throat. “Um, maybe up the arms now?” he suggests softly. “Almost like you’re blind, sort of, like you’re trying to map out what I look like.”

Nodding because this actually makes sense to you, you begin trailing your fingers and hands up his long arms over his shirt. As you reach his shoulders, you realize you’ve done something similar when you helped him dress at the hospital. A moment where you had control and felt it part of your job. That gives you some confidence, knowing that you’ve done this before and it was fine, so normal you’d barely even thought of it at the time.

But now, hands on his shoulders, you’re not sure where to go. Down his chest feels very intimate and up around his neck feels even worse. You are breathing too fast, and then you feel it near your wrist—a steady thrumming. His heartbeat.

You are trained to feel and listen to heartbeats, and this focuses you, ripping you from all the terrible ‘what if’s’ of the situation: what if he hurts me? what if I can’t do this? what if he sends me back? You drag your palms from his broad shoulders and down his clavicle, seeking that solid touchstone of life. Thump, thump, thump.

It’s beating slower than your own anxious heart but a little faster than you’d like it to be from a clinical perspective. But the moment you look up into his eyes, you remember, this is not for clinical purposes. And you realize it’s not likely that the blush on his cheeks and the racing of his heart is related to his illness, but more so the fact that a woman is touching him in such a way.

Blinking rapidly, you look away from his openly dreamy eyes, forcing yourself to home in on that pounding beneath your palm. You take a deep breath, then another, trying to sync your heart to his. It staves off that brewing panic, enough to keep pushing forward past your comfort zone.

You remind yourself that when you started nursing, it was similar. You had to push through the fear of potentially hurting someone, despite your good intentions, especially in the beginning when you hadn’t known what you were doing. You’d had to push yourself to clean up disgusting messes without gagging. There were so many things you’d had to get used to that at the start felt insurmountable. This was the same, you reason, you just had to push through your fears.

Really? You’re going to compare cleaning up blood and vomit to touching Elvis Presley? your inner voice chides you.

It seems awfully silly when you think of it like that.

And perhaps that is what forges you ahead and makes you bolder. You guide your hands down his chest, feeling the heat of him under your palms, the slight ridges of his ribs on his decidedly lean frame. Without looking in his eyes, you circle your arms around to his back and step in as close as you can. The embrace is tentative at first, and you feel the way his breath hitches in surprise. It is only a second of hesitation before he wraps his arms around you in turn.

It’s foreign, this feeling of being held. You suddenly realize that it has been since your mother died that anyone has hugged you, truly hugged you, for more than a moment at most. Breathing in a shaky breath, you are enveloped by Elvis’ unique scent—a masculine but subtle, warm smell that is a far cry from the heavy, suffocating colognes of the Italian men in your life.

You close your eyes, pressing your ear to his chest, that thump, thump, thump a comforting lull to your overactive nerves.

Elvis is achingly gentle, barely touching you at first, until he realizes you are not scurrying away in your usual manner. Then he holds you a little tighter, a little closer, if only to steady you in this unforeseen moment of vulnerability.

He just feels so solid and steadfast in a time when you are feeling completely unmoored. An unlikely anchor in the hurricane of the past few days. For a moment, you allow yourself this small comfort. You are not sure how long you stay like that, timing your breaths to the beat of his heart. Probably longer than what is proper. But you are quickly coming to accept that this situation is far from proper.

You finally bring yourself to pull back from the embrace, knowing there is more work to do here, more ways in which you must launch yourself into the uncomfortable.

Seems like you were quite comfortable holding him, and with him holding you, your inner voice coos.

This is part of the job. It’s not like that.

Mhmm.

Ignoring that, you’re not quite sure what to do next, only that you feel a strange mixture of relaxation weaving its way through your anxiety. Elvis’ hands rest lightly at your waist, making no moves one way or another, as if knowing it could frighten you away.

I won’t be frightened. He will not hurt me.

It feels truer now, though it doesn’t stop the flutter in your chest when you loop your hands back around and up his regally long neck. Oh, it feels too intimate, the way your trembling hands trace up his chiseled jaw, his stubble rough under your fingertips. You can’t look at him, you just can’t face those handsome bedroom eyes while touching him like this, opting for examining him blind like he’d suggested. Your fingers flit over his impossibly high cheekbones, up the perfectly straight edge of his nose, mapping him in your mind.

He's safe. He’s safe. I’m safe. The mantra repeats in your head.

Of their own accord, your fingers cart gently into his wonderfully thick, soft hair, up and through, and it’s then that you hear the sigh escape his lips, the one you now suspect was held back this whole time. It ratchets up your heart rate, not because of your fear of what he could do to you, but because the sound sends a tendril of warmth down your spine.

The instinctive part of you wants to yank your hands away, but you don’t. Instead, you lean into the fear. While your fingers run through his hair, your thumbs fall down his cheeks until you are cupping his long face in your hands.

This is the moment you decide to open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are closed, the look on his beautiful face serene. You are in awe of how gentle and trusting he is, and maybe that’s why you impulsively move a thumb up and over the soft bow of his upper lip.

His sapphire eyes flutter open in surprise at that, sending a shockwave of heat through you. As he catches you in his otherworldly gaze, your thumb snags on the fullness of his lower lip, dragging it down and opening his mouth.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but the feel of his hot breath on your fingertip has butterflies brewing in your belly in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s like a terrifying freefall and you pull back, almost ashamed, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Your first instinct is to run, but Elvis catches your wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“It’s good,” he breathes. “You’re doing great, honey.”

The praise is genuine, and a shaky wave of pride rolls through you at being able to face your fears about this.

“Now it’s my turn, darlin’. We gotta get you used to the other way around,” he says quietly, as if knowing this part will be even harder for you. As if knowing that your heart begins to race even faster than before.

All you can do is nod. Keep going forward.

“Okay. I’m a very affectionate guy, Little Bird, and I’m gonna be real clear for you what I’m gonna do here,” he says, looking into your eyes in a seriously. “I’m fixin’ to act like I would with a girlfriend, but I ain’t out to molest you.”

You’re not exactly sure what he means to do, but you forge onward, trying to relax. “A-Alright.”

He’s still holding you by the wrist. “I’m gonna kiss your hand now.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach at the drawled words, and not from fear.

Then he is pressing those soft lips in an innocent gesture, first kissing the top of your hand, then the palm, then the inside of your wrist. It’s sweet, the way he does it, the way he checks in with you with his eyes after each peck.

You forget to breathe. You expected fear, the need to escape that which feels foreign or threatening, but you did not expect any part of you to enjoy this.

Running his hands up your arms, he reminds you of the obvious. “Breathe, honey,” he whispers.

You do. In. Out. In. Out. It gives you something to focus on as your mind goes blank.

“Gonna move down now,” he narrates. His hands move one of your arms, then the other, up over his shoulders and around his neck, as if you might start dancing. As if you might lean up to kiss him. Your heart knocks against your ribcage and you just know he can feel it as his hands splay slowly down your sides, fingers around your back, tracing your curves. Thankfully, he doesn’t touch your breasts, just brushes past them on the way down, but it sends shivers down to your toes regardless.

You feel utterly exposed, that familiar panic blooming amongst the unfamiliar feeling in your belly. Elvis seems to sense your tension and steps into you, embracing you once more. You feel that anchor again as his tall frame engulfs you. It should make you more uncomfortable, pressed up against him like this, but it doesn’t. Then, his left hand brings your right over his shoulder and holds it there, directly over his heart.

Thump, thump, thump.

Somehow he knows that steady rhythm calms you. He holds you there for as long as it takes for your breathing to level off, which is a while because you feel dizzy with the scent of him, the warmth of him, with the feeling of being touched in a way that doesn’t make you want to run for the hills.

You don’t understand these feelings. You should be afraid. Your history has taught you to be afraid of men. But for some strange reason, this near stranger, this idol to the masses, makes you feel safe and that scares you on a whole different level.

“Doing so well, Little Bird,” he says, pressing his forehead against your own. The pet name you loathed a few days ago sits differently with you now since you’ve come to understand that he has nicknames for everyone in his life, some that make sense only to him. It sits differently now that he’s holding you like this.

Oh, Madone, he is so close now. You force yourself to keep your eyes open, to remind you this is not the man who hurt you. That Elvis is nothing like Gianni.

It’s alright, I’m alright.

You do not expect this battle between fear and arousal in your body and your mind when Elvis whispers he’s going to kiss your face and then he does, carefully pressing into your forehead like you might break under his touch.

You do not expect to feel angry at the fact he’s showing you how men can be so unlike what you’ve experienced, that not every one of their gender is filled with hatred and violence.

And you certainly don’t expect the sigh that escapes your lips when he kisses your cheek, or when he then follows with light kisses down your jaw.

He freezes at that. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Y-yes. I’m fine. It’s, uh, fine,” you stammer out breathlessly, feeling the way his lips turn up slightly into a smile.

It’s an act. You are both playing a role. This is a rehearsal, you recite desperately in your head as your body flames with a nearly unbearable heat. And as his almost-too-gentle lips light little fires on your neck, you know that you shouldn’t like anything about this, and not just because it’s part of your new job. But your body bends to his will of its own accord.

Elvis pulls back slightly, his face hovering close to yours, and pauses. Your hands are fisted in his shirt and the only thing that cuts through the pregnant silence of the room is the near-panting of your collective breaths.

“I am going to kiss you now, Little Bird,” he says quietly, so close to you that you can feel the puffs of warm air from his mouth. His voice rumbles down deep into your belly, coiling there.

You can’t even begin to respond, because the way his words send shooting warmth blooming out from your chest seems to clamp off any ability to speak.

Then his warm hand cups your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek. He hardly has to move to reach your lips, and when he finally does, it is so chaste and tender you barely feel it.

You expect to freeze or flee, for your heart to be filled with icy, dark fear.

And yet…

And yet you don’t and it isn’t because it’s nothing like what you’ve experienced before. It’s not the clumsy teenage kiss on prom night. And it certainly isn’t anything like the harsh, horrible kisses Gianni subjected you to. No, this is soft and something else entirely, something you can’t piece through in this strange little moment.

You let him kiss you, giving in easily, and while you don’t know if you truly kiss him back, you don’t push him away.

Then it’s over. Elvis pulls away slowly. You look up at him, dazed, topsy-turvy from the multitude of feelings washing over you, all at once. For a second, you see what you think is a similar look stirring in his eyes.

But then it is gone, replaced with the neutral surety and confidence of a performer after the director yells cut.

“You’re a natural, baby! Didn’t even run away from me once!” he ribs you with a stunning, wide smile, then he turns more serious. “Did it help? Do you feel better, like you can do that in front of everyone else without jumpin’ out your skin?”

It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying. “I, uh, I’m not sure? I-I think so, maybe?” you finally manage to get out. You are honestly not sure about anything right now, the ghost of his lips still haunting on yours.

Elvis furrows his brow a little, unsure of your reaction. “Well, it’ll get better with practice, don’tcha worry, lil’ Lo’,” he says encouragingly.

Practice? This is going to happen again?

Of course. Because this is a rehearsal. This is part of your job. The part of your job that now involves kissing Elvis Presley and pretending to be his girlfriend.

Coming back into yourself, you try sliding your walls back into place, willing yourself to be professional and unphased. “I’m sure it will,” you nod, stepping back and smoothing your skirt. “Now, time to rest. You promised,” you say, changing the subject and gesturing to his bed, praying your hand won’t shake.

He looks like he might try to fight you on it, but then seems to think better of it. “Fine. A deal’s a deal,” he shrugs, casually throwing himself onto his bed.

With a silent sigh of relief, you slip off your shoes and climb into your bed and under the covers on the other side of the room. There is no way you are undressing into your nightgown, not with Elvis just feet away, so this will have to do.

“At least a couple of hours,” you remind him before turning your back to him.

“Yes, ma’am, I hear you,” he grumbles.

Taking a deep breath, then another, you keep yourself from looking back over at Elvis. Despite your overwhelming fatigue, your body is buzzing like you’ve had one too many cups of coffee. You force your eyes closed, but you are hyperaware of the man being so close.

You’ve never slept in the same room as a man before.

It’s a day of all kinds of firsts, now isn’t it? you think sardonically.

You try to even out your breathing, the memory of Elvis’ steady heartbeat thundering in your ears. The spicy scent of him lingers on your skin. You can feel the way his solid warmth pressed against you in a comforting embrace. And all you can see behind your closed eyes is the how he looked right before he kissed you.

You think you may have liked it, liked all of it.

But it’s not real, you silly girl.

Praying for much needed rest, you bury your head in your pillow.

A sudden, stabbing guilt then slices its way into your heart as a hideous thought threatens to drown you:

What kind of woman am I if liked that so soon after Gianni hurt me?

It’s your father’s voice that answers…

Puttana. Whore.

Tears pour down your cheeks until sleep finally takes you.

*

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[super-ion]

So I've spent quite a bit of mental energy the last couple days on character creation for an upcoming Pathfinder game (as I do). So of course, in true Char fashion I had to throw a drabble together to get into her head (directly inspired by a scene by @the-sword-lesbian for her character).

She's a half orc inventor with a fighter flavor. She's 6'6" and built like a tank. She's a nerd with special interests. Her dump stats are wis and cha.

***

They spot her in the back of the seedy tavern. She's hunched over a table surrounded by an array of incomprehensible tools. Half a meal sits forgotten on the edge of the table. Her brow is furrowed in concentration and she chews on her bottom lip as her fingers work at the clockwork before her.

The lead bounty hunter casts a look at the barkeep, who frowns and disappears into the kitchen. A few of the more observant patrons clear out and the remainder soon follow.

Not her though, she's too busy. She is absolutely completely focused at the task at hand.

She's big, she is half orc after all, but she has a roundness to her cheeks, a softness in her shoulders. She has a few faint scars, maybe broke her nose once, but that all might just be from lab accidents. She gives off the air of an academic type, some well fed student who got too many ideas about adventure in her head.

“Akhana Greystone?”

“Huh?” she replies, jumping slightly at the interruption.

She peers at them through light brown eyes, almost golden. One of the hunters, the newbie, decides the color reminds him of when there are storms high in the mountains and the river is fully saturated with the high desert silt.

Another of the hunters notes the ribbons woven into the messy braid of dark hair, bright pink and purple. She's brought in a few marks in her career and has never seen anything so frivolous.

This job is guaranteed easy money.

The mark makes an awkward smile at the three of them, not entirely sure who to address.

“Uh… yeah, Akhana. That's me,” she replies. “Y'all need any tinker work done or anythin? I'm kind of between jobs right now, but I'm not above a little bit o’ freelance if it keeps my belly full.”

She looks at them hopefully for a moment before her smile slips at their expressions.

The leader glances back at his more seasoned companion with a raised eyebrow, silently asking if this is the right person. She frowns dubiously as she nods.

“I had a pretty good gig goin’ for a spell there,” she nervously continues, starting to ramble as she returns her attention to her work. “Gunrunning and all that. Lotta time to be alone in my head to think about designs and it pays a might bit better’n working the forges. Hurts a lot less than the fightin’ ring too. But of course, somebody had ta go and ruin it. Jerk wanted a cut of the money, like we're some kind of criminal enterprise, if you can believe that! Okay, I mean, yeah, it's technically illegal and everything, but it's not like we we're doing anything wrong, ya know? Just gettin’ supplies out to good honest folk tryin’ ta eek out a living out in the wild. So what if some of those supplies just happened to be black powder weapons of dubious provenance? I tell ya what though, Ma ain't to happy about my face being on a wanted poster, her bein’ a former marshal ‘n all that…”

She trails off, perhaps realizing that she effectively just offered a confession to a trio of strangers. She looks around the room and seems surprised to find it empty. She squints at the three of the bounty hunters in turn, sizing them up.

“Aw heck,” she says. “You fella’s are here about the bounty, ain't ya?”

The leader gives a curt nod.

“Come in quietly,” he says. “Nobody has to get hurt. It'll be easier for all of us.”

She runs her tongue along one of her tusks, considering for a moment.

“Nah,” she says finally and returns to her work, slipping the last few gears and pieces of wires into the gauntlet.

The bounty hunters exchange a baffled glance.

“Ma'am-”

She holds up a finger to silence him. She clicks a mechanism shut and spins a dial, listening intently to some unknown response. She gives a quick nod, apparently satisfied, she starts packing up her tools.

The leader clears his throat.

“Ma'am, we're here for the bounty on your head-”

“Yeah, I know,” she interrupts. “I heard ya. Answer’s still no.”

Only after the last tool is carefully placed in its place does she uncurl herself from her hunched posture. As she squares her shoulders and cracks her neck, the hunters realize that what they mistook for softness is actually a healthy layer of padding over solid muscle.

The hunter on the left, the newbie, takes a nervous step back.

She slips the gauntlet on her wrists. Something clicks and whirrs. There's a spark and a tiny puff of blue smoke from the gauntlet.

She grins, her eyes filling with a manic sort of delight.

[quickspinner]

What about an AU with Mari's Nona Gina actually being old friends with Anarka? Maybe Anarka was a younger member on one of the exploring/travel groups that Gina was in, they hit it off, & lost track of each other over the years Gina leaving for Italy again & Anarka's thing with a young Jagged. Maybe during Mari's birthday party Gina notices Juleka, a resemblance of an old friend, & it prompts her to stay longer while also reuniting with an old friend and Luka and Mari finally meeting?

Not only is this ask hella old (see I told y'all I always keep them if I don't get to them right away) but I took it in a slighty different direction. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Always Have a Designated Driver

“Oh, my fairy, it is so good of you to come with me tonight. You know I could have taken a cab home.” Gina slipped her arm through Marinette’s and patted her hand. 

“I know, Grandma,” Marinette said, and left it at that. She knew Gina wouldn’t take well to any intimation that Marinette was worried about her in any way. Gina had been handling herself quite fine across multiple countries and it was stupid for Marinette to worry, but—well. Marinette worried anyway.

“I hope you will not be too bored,” Gina continued as they went into the karaoke bar. There were restaurant tables set up around the perimeter, as well as the bar along one side, and the stage was set up and ready but not active yet. Marinette felt a bit of a nervous flutter; she wasn’t completely naive but she was too busy to hang out in places like this on a regular basis. “Though I suspect that my pretty Marinetta will not have any trouble once the boys get a look at you, eh?” She cupped Marinette’s chin and wiggled it a bit while Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Grandma.” 

“Ah, your Nona loves you, my fairy.”

***

“You’ll like Gina,” Anarka declared, and Luka rolled his eyes as he got out of the car and followed his mother into the karaoke bar where they were supposed to meet up with some of Anarka’s old pals. 

She had been telling him about one of her old motorcycle buddies all week, who was finally going to be in town to join in the reunion night, and from her stories, Luka thought he probably actually would like Gina. She sounded like an interesting lady, who’d been to a lot of places. However, he doubted he would manage to say more than “hello” to any of Anarka's friends before the drinking and shenanigans started. He was really only here to make sure his mother got home safely. Most of the time, Anarka was pretty responsible with her drinking, but things always got out of hand when she had these get-togethers with her old crew, so he and Juleka took turns being her designated driver. 

At least karaoke had the potential to be entertaining. Hopefully. In his experience, entertaining and excruciating were the only two options. Usually a mix of both. 

He caught the door Anarka banged open and made sure it shut quietly, and a shriek went up from the bar almost as soon as Anarka entered. An older woman in a motorcycle jacket came barreling towards them. 

“Anarka, amica mia!” she exclaimed, and Luka took a step back as his mother embraced her friend. Both of them spoke over each other, and between that and their clashing accents, Luka had no idea what they were saying until they both turned to face him. Assuming he was being introduced, Luka offered his hand to the white-haired lady who looked at him over the rim of pink shades. She slid the sunglasses off and shook his hand. “Luka, so nice to meet you,” she said in slightly accented French. “I’m so glad you are here, you can keep my Marinetta company while we old ladies catch up.”

“Who ye be callin’ old now?” Anarka demanded, but Gina ignored her, gesturing for someone at the bar to come and join them.

“Anarka, this is my granddaughter. Marinetta, this is my dear old friend” Luka’s mouth twitched at the emphasis and Anarka’s indignant snort, “—Anarka, and this is her son, Luka.”

The petite young lady that had arrived at Gina’s side greeted Anarka and then turned huge blue eyes on him, pink lips curving up in a polite smile. 

Luka swallowed reflexively, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you, Marinetta.” 

She giggled nervously as she took his hand. “Grandma's the only one who calls me that. I'm Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It's nice to meet you too, Luka.” She was dressed simply, in well-fitting (very well-fitting) jeans and a black shirt with a wide ribbon collar that tied in a bow near her shoulder, soft makeup and her hair done in two tails. Not dressed for a night on the town, but it suited her, and Luka found himself enchanted. 

Gina saved him from doing anything stupid by grabbing Marinette’s hand and shoving a small wad of cash into her palm. “Good, good,” she proclaimed, ignoring Marinette’s protests at taking the money. “Now, Marinetta, you and Luka go and get yourselves some food.” Marinette tried to say something, but Gina cut her off. “No, no, my fairy, I know you only came to make sure your Nona gets home safely, but there is no need to hover. Go away so that you will not be scandalized and hear things you wish you didn't know!”

Marinette looked somewhat horrified. “You mean there’s worse than what I’ve already heard?” 

Luka grinned, and Anarka's booming laugh rang out. Gina turned Marinette around and gave her a little push towards the restaurant section. 

“Go on, go on, my dear, you can keep an eye on me perfectly fine while you eat. Besides, it is this one you must watch out for—” She indicated Anarka with a tilt of her head, and Luka snorted in amusement.

“She’s not wrong,” he teased his mother, and Anarka put a hand on his face and shoved him good naturedly away. 

“Off wi’ ye boy,” she declared, her accent getting thicker already. “An be ye a gentleman, ye hear?”

Luka rolled his eyes and turned to Marinette. 

“Shall we grab a table?” he asked Marinette, who still looked a little stunned, and at her nod, he gently took her elbow and steered her to a booth that was likely to be quieter, at least until the real entertainment got started. 

“I don't have to stay,” Luka said, gesturing for Marinette to sit as he glanced at a table of guys whose heads had turned as they walked past. “Or you don't, if you'd rather—”

“Oh, no, please don't leave,” Marinette said, catching hold of his sleeve. “I mean, unless you want to—” Luka was already sliding into the booth next to her. 

“I don't come to this kind of place very often,” Marinette admitted. “I don't usually have the time, so…I guess I don't really know how to act.”

Luka smiled. “Act like yourself. Everybody’s here to have a good time. I won’t say no one’s watching,” he indicated the interested table with a nod of his head, “but I doubt the people who are, are looking to criticize.”

Marinette blushed, and picked up the menu that was laying on the table, hiding her face. Luka opted to give her a little space, picking up his own.

“Do you come here often?” she asked, fidgeting with her menu.

“Not here, specifically,” Luka replied, glancing around. “But I’ve been in and out of these kinds of places practically my whole life. First because of mom, and then performing myself.”

Marinette looked out from behind her menu, curious. “Performing?”

“I’m a musician,” he said, trying not to sound too proud of it. “Guitar mostly but I do vocals sometimes too. I play with a couple local bands at different places.”

“Oh,” Marinette looked impressed, and Luka felt his face heat a little. “You must be pretty good.”

Luka chuckled. “I’ll let you judge that for yourself sometime.” 

Marinette’s eyes widened and she hid behind her menu again. Luka cringed; he hadn’t meant that to come off like it had. 

“What do you feel like?” he asked. “Is there something in particular or should we just order some appetizers so we can try a few things?”

They worked out what they wanted to order, flagged down a waiter, and then fell into awkward silence. 

Marinette felt ridiculous; like her feet were too big and she didn’t know what to do with her hands, and she felt sure Luka must think she was some naive little pixie who hardly ever left the house except to go out with her grandma. Why had she said that? She just felt so uncomfortable and she needed to explain, and now it turned out he was in a band and went to these kinds of places all the time and probably hated that he was stuck here babysitting her instead of out there dancing with all the girls darting him appreciative looks as they milled around with their drinks in their hands. She should have let him go earlier when he offered to leave; she hadn’t wanted him to think she didn’t want his company but now he was—maybe she should—but they’d already ordered food and—

“Marinette?” Luka touched her shoulder and she jumped. 

“Everything okay?” he asked. 

Marinette nodded quickly and then blurted, “I like your hair.” 

She did like his hair. It was probably weird to say it though. Was it weird? Oh God she was so weird and she should know better than to try and talk to a hot guy like a totally normal not-weird—

“Thanks,” Luka said, running a hand through his hair with a smile that looked…a little self-conscious actually. It was…cute. “It’s not fancy but it’s easy to maintain at least.”

“Oh—I meant the color, I mean—I mean I like the way you wear it, too, it suits you, the ruffled look with your sharp facial features, it comes off really well—but the color is so pretty, and your hair’s still so shiny. I’ve always wanted to dye my hair but I was afraid I would ruin it trying to bleach it, since it’s so dark…”

“Oh, mine’s black too underneath all this.” Luka grinned. “It can be done, it just takes a little patience so you don’t fry it. You’d be cute with dyed hair. I mean, you look great just like this, but if it’s something you want, I think it’d look great on you. Not that my opinion should matter.” He closed his mouth abruptly and looked away, and Marinette simultaneously felt tortured and comforted. At least she wasn’t the only one who babbled. 

Mercifully, the food came shortly after, and that gave them something to focus on and a chance for mostly safe conversation. The karaoke stage lit up and an MC came up to announce that the mic was now open, and started calling names of people who had signed up. 

The plates were empty and the conversation had lagged. Marinette was desperately trying to think of something to say, and sneaking looks at Luka out of the corner of her eye. He had the most striking profile, all sharp angles, but when he looked straight at her, his expression softened, and he leaned in just a bit, as if to be sure and catch whatever she said. 

She wished she were more interesting. She wished she had something to say. She’d bore him silly talking about fashion, she was sure. 

“They look like they’re having fun,” she said finally, as a pair of clearly tipsy girls in very short skirts screamed the lyrics to “Material Girl,” into their microphones.

Luka agreed, laughing. Then he looked at her, and then away, and then he leaned towards her, tilting his head towards the stage. “You wanna have a go?” 

“Me?” Marinette sat up straight, face flaming. Luka, sure, he was used to performing on stage, and he was cool and handsome and he looked like a microphone belonged in his hand, but—

“Well, us.” Luka laughed, straightening a little and turning his glass on the table. “I thought maybe we could go do one together.”

“I’m probably terrible compared to you,” Marinette protested. “You should go on yourself. You’re a performer, right?” 

Luka grinned. “Marinette, look around. Nobody’s here to listen to the next great star.” 

Marinette did look around, and he was right. Everyone was too absorbed in their own party or too buzzed to do anything other than roar support for anyone brave enough to take the stage, and most of the ones who did were…creative in their interpretation of the music. 

“I’ll grab a book,” Luka said, sliding out of the booth. “You can think about it while we look through the songs.” He winked at her. “I’ll check on Mom and Gina while I’m at it.”

Marinette nodded, toying with one of her pigtails. It couldn’t hurt to look, right? And while he was gone she could come up with an excuse to say no.

“Hey, wanna dance?”

Marinette jumped and looked up. There was a man leaning his elbows on her table, grinning at her. She could smell smoke and alcohol all the way across the table. She put on her best social smile. “No, thank you, I’m waiting for someone.” 

“Ah, ‘course you are,” he drawled, stepping back and sliding off the table. “Worth a shot.” He winked at her and wandered off. 

Luka returned just as the other man drifted off. Watching the stranger go, Luka sat down and said, “Would you rather go dance?” 

“Maybe later. But not with him,” Marinette said, making a face. Then she blushed. “I mean—”

Luka grinned. “Let’s pick a song.” 

Marinette bent over the catalog with him, as he slowly flipped through pages. 

“Let me know if you see something you like,” he said, and Marinette murmured assent. Luka didn’t smell like smoke or alcohol. Well, maybe alcohol a little, but anyone would in here. Mostly he just smelled…clean. And vaguely beachy? Interesting. 

Songs. She was supposed to be looking at the songs. 

“Okay, I know this one’s a little old, but it’s a lot of fun.” Luka pointed to a song, grinning. 

“You can’t be serious,” Marinette laughed. 

“Do you know it?” Luka repeated, still grinning.

“Well…yes.” 

“Come on, we’re the only ones sober enough to do it, and if we mess it up, it’ll be hilarious. Win-win.” 

Marinette still hesitated, but looking up at Luka’s face, something about the sparkle in his eyes made her say, “Okay.”

Luka raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? If you don’t want to, it’s really fine.” 

Marinette’s smile turned a little more genuine. “Really. I want to. You’ll cover for me if I lose it, right?”

“Of course,” he promised, and…she believed him. 

He left her again to go sign them up, and Marinette took a breath, wondering what on earth she was doing. Still, he was right, it could be a lot of fun, and…what was the worst that could happen.

She shut that thought down before it could go any further—it was always a dangerous line of thought for her—and stood up to peer across the room to where Gina’s white hair was visible in a knot of older people around the bar. They were loud, but not out of control. Satisfied, Marinette sat back down. Luka reappeared shortly after, and apparently guessed what she had been looking for.

“They’re fine,” he said, as he slid back into the booth. “Still at the 'telling stories loudly' stage. We’ve still got time.” He winked at her. “When she starts yelling insults at randos I know it’s time to take Ma home before someone calls the cops.” Marinette giggled, but Luka seemed entirely serious. “It’ll be a while before our turn,” he continued, and then hesitated. 

“We could, um. We could go dance?” Marinette suggested. The panic that welled up was quelled by Luka’s broad smile. 

“I’d love that,” he said, and stood up, offering his hand. Marinette took it, and let him help her out of the booth, her eyes suddenly locked on his. 

“I’m not a very good dancer,” she warned, and stumbled a little on the step down from the booth. 

“Me neither,” he said, and though Marinette didn’t believe him, it made her smile. 

***

Luka was having the time of his life with Marinette on the dance floor. She wasn’t very coordinated, as she had warned him—or at least, her mind seemed to get in the way of her limbs, because once she had completely relaxed and stopped overthinking every little move she made…wow. 

She sparkled. Not because of the way she danced, but just with pure joy and energy. She sang along with the music, and though he couldn’t really hear her over the speakers, he couldn’t stop watching her lips move. 

They were briefly joined by Gina and Anarka and a couple of their pals, which was…embarrassing. Marinette got all stiff and awkward again, and let out a little shriek when one of the old men grabbed her around the waist and swung her in a spin. Gina was immediately in his face, clearly telling him off, and Marinette had to catch her arm and persuade her not to personally throw the man out of the club. Fortunately, Gina had had enough to drink to be easily distracted, 

“I see where your eyes be lookin’, boy,” Anarka bellowed near his ear. “Mind yerself, ye hear?” 

“I always do,” Luka replied drily. 

“Aye, that ye do,” Anarka said with unexpected affection, hugging him tightly. “I know I need have no worries fer ye. Just be sure ye don’t be makin’ babies yer not ready for, aye?” 

Luka reddened. “ Ma!”

Mercifully, Anarka let him go, and hollered that she was ready for another drink. Their group departed, leaving Luka and Marinette standing on the dance floor. Marinette leaned on his arm, and Luka took her hand without thinking. “Are you okay?” he asked, and she smiled up at him.

“Fine. They’re just…a lot.” She sighed, and Luka fervently agreed. 

Then Marinette straightened and her eyes popped wide as their names were announced. 

Luka leaned toward her. “Not too late to back out if you need to.” 

Marinette looked for a moment like she might take him up that, but then she looked straight at him, squared her shoulders, and gave him a smile that made his knees weak. “Let’s do this,” she said firmly. 

Oh muses help him, he was in love.

***

Marinette let Luka lead her to the crowd to the stage, her hand still clasped tightly in his. Predictably, a whoop went up from the bar as soon as they were under the lights. Luka let go of her long enough to pull the microphones from the stands and hand one to Marinette. 

“I’ll start?” he murmured, and Marinette nodded. He took her hand again and walked them both to the front of the stage, flashing a grin at the crowd as those iconic first notes went up over the speakers, and the onlookers cheered. 

Luka’s head bobbed to the beat as he watched her with a grin on his face. Marinette couldn’t help smiling back even though she was a little terrified and felt very strange on the stage. 

Luka faced the crowd when the lyrics popped up and sang the quick-paced words of the verse with comfortable ease. 

He looked at Marinette and she joined him on the chorus. Singing alongside Luka’s powerful voice made it impossible for Marinette to be timid as they belted together, “We didn’t start the fire! It was always burning since the world’s been turning! No we didn’t light it but we’re trying to fight it.” 

Luka raised his eyebrows at her in question as they neared the end of the chorus, and though her hands were shaking, Marinette nodded. She took a deep breath, eyes on Luka, and launched into the next verse. By some miracle, she didn’t trip over the words once, and when she ran out of breath, Luka took up the next piece. They traded back and forth through the song after that, occasionally joining to sing some parts together, and always coming together on the chorus. If she made a slip, Luka covered it easily, and at some point their hands met and joined as they got more and more into the song. 

Marinette knew that people must be watching; Luka was too good, too magnetic on stage, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The crowd didn’t matter; she was having too much fun with Luka to care whether the audience was paying attention or not. 

“WE DIDN’T START THE FIRE,” they bellowed together, crowd practically forgotten as they faced each other. By the end of the song they were dancing around the stage together, and when the music finally ended, Luka threw up his hands with Mari’s still in his. 

Everyone cheered, and for the first time Marinette looked away from Luka and into the crowd. Marinette could see (and hear, even over the music) that Gina and Anarka were losing their minds. She let Luka lead her down off the stage, grateful for his hand still holding hers. Her knees felt a bit wobbly. Luka wrapped her in a hug at the bottom of the stairs. 

“That was awesome ,” he enthused, laughing with his chin on her head, and then he stepped back. “You okay?” he asked, and Marinette nodded shakily. Luka’s expression turned to concern, but before he could say anything else, Gina and Anarka were on them—literally. 

It took a little time to fend off their respective relatives, but eventually Luka managed to get them redirected with a suggestion that Anarka and Gina should try a duet. They disappeared into the crowd, and Luka breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to Marinette. She was still shaking, and Luka took her elbow and led her back to their table.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, once they were there, and Marinette again nodded, this time managing a smile for him. 

“I’m fine, really,” she promised. “I had fun, it—it was just intense .” She curled her still shaking fingers on the table.

Luka smiled and wrapped his hands around hers, rubbing some warmth back into them. “Sorry, I guess I’m used to the stage rush. You did amazing, though. You did have fun?”

“Totally,” Marinette said, squeezing his hand back. His hands were so much bigger than hers, she realized, and they felt good, moving over hers. Somehow, her eyes found Luka’s, and his hands slowly stopped moving. 

They both jumped as the server stopped at their table and plunked a plate on the table with a hefty slice of chocolate cake and two spoons. “On the house,” was all he said, and then he was gone again.

Luka and Marinette looked at each other in surprise, and then giggled. 

“Guess we impressed somebody,” Luka chuckled. 

“Hmm.” Marinette picked up her spoon. “Well, it looks delicious.” 

Luka gestured with his spoon. “After you.” 

They ate the sweet dessert, murmuring appreciation, and then drifted into easy conversation, despite the increasingly raucous crowd around them. Neither of them minded having to lean a little closer to hear. Even with the noise, they felt apart from the crowd, in their own little bubble, until—

“Uh-oh,” Luka said, getting up from the table. “I think that’s my cue.” He took off through the crowd, and Marinette automatically grabbed her bag and followed him. She lost him for a moment in the crowd, and then found him holding his mother by the shoulders, talking soothingly to her while Anarka shouted over his shoulder. 

“All right, Ma,” Luka said, linking his arm firmly through his mother’s. “I think it’s time to go.”

“We should probably go too, my fairy,” Gina’s voice, only slightly slurred, came from Marinette’s shoulder. She put an arm around her grandmother as Gina leaned heavily on her. “It is past your bedtime.” 

Marinette rolled her eyes, but didn’t object, steering Gina after Luka and Anarka. Anarka had clearly had more to drink, and once Marinette got Gina in the car, she went to help Luka, who was struggling to get his more combative relative to their car. Between the slurred speech and the brogue Marinette couldn’t understand much of what Anarka was saying, but when she slipped under the Captain’s other arm, the tirade cut off.

“Ah, yer such a nice lass,” Anarka drawled. 

“Please don’t embarrass me, Ma,” Luka sighed, as Marinette helped him get Anarka going in the right direction. 

“Embarrass ye!” Anarka snorted. “Son I got years of humiliation to heap back on ye, after all the pranks ye and yer sister pulled!” 

Marinette giggled, and Luka shot her a longsuffering look.

“Please ignore anything she says,” he begged, and looked relieved when they managed to get Anarka in the car. Luka buckled her in, and then dug around in the center console while Anarka yelled at him to “gerroff already ye landlubbin’ swine!” 

Luka straightened up and closed the passenger door with more force than was probably necessary. “Thank you,” he said, turning to Marinette. He rubbed a hand through his hair. “It was really nice to meet you, Marinette.”

“You too, Luka,” Marinette agreed. “I had a lot more fun than I expected to tonight.” 

Luka grinned. “Me too. Listen, um,” he offered her a folded piece of paper he had been toying with. “This is my number. If you feel like using it, I’d love to talk to you more.” 

Blushing, Marinette reached for it. Luka didn’t let go right away. “I’d really like you to use it,” he said softly, before opening his fingers and letting her take the paper. “Goodnight, Marinette.” He seemed to hesitate despite the words, and in a burst of courage, Marinette went up on her toes and kissed him lightly. Luka’s arm wound around her waist and pulled her back in, kissing her much more firmly. Marinette’s hands clasped behind his neck before she knew what she was doing, and the parking lot around them disappeared for a long moment. When Marinette’s feet were finally back on the ground, and there was room to breathe between their lips, she smiled at him. Her hands slid down his shoulders as she whispered, “Good night, Luka.” Then she turned and jogged back to her car, clutching the paper with his number. Luka watched her for a moment, and then went around the car and got in

Anarka was already asleep in the passenger seat.

Marinette ran all the way back to her car and jumped in, slamming the door behind her. She buried her face in her hands, panting from the run and the kiss and the—everything.

“Well my fairy.” 

Marinette jumped half out of her skin with a little shriek, and lowered her hands to turn mortified eyes on her grandmother. Gina smirked at her. “I told you there would be no trouble once the boys noticed you, eh?” 

“Just one,” Marinette protested weakly, and Gina grinned, reaching over to pat her hand. 

“My Marinetta could captivate anyone with such a smile on her face as she had tonight. He is a good one, I think, but ugh, to have such a relative!” She laughed. Marinette blushed and shoved the piece of paper she was still clinging to into her purse.

“Nobody’s talking about marriage, Grandma,” she said a bit tartly as she started the car. 

“It will not be long, my dear,” Gina drawled, leaning back into her seat. “It will not be long at all.”

Marinette shook her head and concentrated on getting them both home. She made sure Gina got to bed without passing out on the doorstep, and went to the guest room, where her things were already laid out neatly. She sat on the bed, and pulled the bit of paper with Luka's number on it out of her purse.

It didn’t say anything except Luka Couffaine and his number. She programmed it into her phone, and then folded the paper and put it carefully in her purse, just in case. 

Before she could chicken out, she wrote a text and sent it to him, letting him know who it was and that she and Gina had made it home safely, and wishing him good night. 

Her phone pinged before she’d even finished washing her face. 

Glad you’re safe. We are too. I had a great time tonight. Is it too soon to ask you out?

AO3 Works | Fiction Master Post 

[victoriacoffee]

Hey guys! Uh I felt like I should say something about the fandom

// mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation

This is gonna be long, sorry!

Heyyyy, sorry I've been so uhhh hardly active online...I've been trying to come back to posting online and stuff just idk it's been a pretty rough several months and every time I think my motivation is back enough it disappears. I'm currently tryna work things out in therapy as a result of how bad certain things have gotten in the last few months, I'm not gonna say what it was but based on my writing with a lot of focus on self harm and suicidal ideation, you can probably guess.

At this point I think I'm about to just not even bother logging into twitter anymore and pretty much use this and ao3 and pinterest and stuff (maybe occasionally instagram idk tho that place kinda sucks). It would probably help me be more active on here tbh since yall seem not really do a lot of the things that make my mh worst XD

Alright, anyway I'm currently editing a few different fics I've been working on for a while, several of them decided to be in the 50-100 page on google docs range whether I liked it or not, so that and my current disasterous working situation is why it's taking a ridiculous amount of time. If I had a functional posting schedule, ig I wouldn't be an ao3 user. I was gonna include a statement in one of them about this, but I decided this needed to be said here first

So I don't think I plan on leaving the dsmp fandom no matter what happens at this point. The average length of interest in a fandom is like what 10 years? Idk I heard that from some yt. If so, I'm approaching the halfway mark with the dsmp, which is insane to think about, and I don't plan on jumping off that train any time soon. The stories were intriguing and the cc's and their characters and music and stuff have gotten me through the lowest points of my life, so it's very hard to forget that.

Even if the cc's turn out to not be great, I still have their characters, and I'm not willing to give up this coping mechanism just yet because I feel like not having one when everything else in my life seems to be going to shit wouldn't be that great

I see it like if you liked a character in a movie and the actor that played them turned out to be bad, would you still like the character? I would.

cc!Wilbur turned out to be a shitty person. His song about being a wanker and a fucking waste of time was in fact spot on. Fuck that guy. I'm done with his stuff but I'm still gonna write his character

There are a lot of things erupting on twitter right now, I'm not sure what's going on and I do Not have the mental fortitude to find out at this point. I can't say I believe everything because after the Dream situation last fall...I'm just holding off my judgement for now. I'll probably go looking once the dust starts to settle but right now it's all a huge mess and everything is up in the air

I can't guarantee anything at this point, but I will most likely continue to write c! stagedduo and most likely draw and crochet them. I do not have another coping mechanism and the brainrot over the story of the dsmp will likely not go away

Uhhh really sorry I keep falling off the face of the earth, but I think I'm back now. I don't know what the future holds, but this is probably gonna become about the only social media i use now and I think i might just make an alt account or something for my other art so i can stop posting on instagram all together hopefully. Everytime i open that app it makes me more sad and then I never get around to opening this

Due to the severity of what I mentioned earlier, I'm just going to say that I'm not feeling like *that* right now, I feel like I'm actually very gradually starting to get out of the not great mental state I've been in for basically since high school, but I'm not gonna let twitter and the potential of social media harassment fuck that up, so from now on y'all are gonna be like 90% of my social media interactions most likely and I'm not gonna let whatever the hell twitter does in the next few weeks take my favorite characters from me.

I love c!Dream and c!Punz. Their dynamic is excellent be it drunz or stageduo. I'm gonna keep writing them.

They look like the cc's but they still very much exist separately of them (irl Dream isn't getting tortured by irl Quackity and Sam or anything lol).

So whatever ends up happening, imma be here most likely. So for those of you who'd like to join me, hey! For those of you who can't take it anymore, I understand.

Oh and for those of you who've been drawing/writing/whatever any cc's who are currently accused or exposed or anything, I encourage you not to delete or destroy your work, you worked hard on it! If you don't wanna look at it rn, put it away for now. If it's character based especially! Don't let the actions of others or the vitriol of twitter take away your favorite characters!

[bunnywritesjunk]

Ruusaan | Captain Rex x Reader

Series summary: You missed your tropical planet, but coruscant had more to offer. You are a field medic in the 501st. you work closely with the captain in hopes of not losing your job. But how close is too close.

Chapter summary: Rex hasn't spoken to you in days. Hopefully this mission will give you guys some time to talk.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Warnings: Slavery, Suicide (Canon typical suicide), Rated R

Word count: 3k

Series Masterlist

Genre: Fluff and angst

A/n: Hello everyone, this is the start of a next arc. Rexy boy is getting a little serious ooooh. I'm gonna try to post chapter 9 really soon. I think after this chap or the next one y'all will finally get what you've been waiting for.

Chapter 8

Rex hasn't you in days. He needed time to process his newfound feelings. There’s only one person that could give him proper advice on how to continue. Rex hadn’t thought about relationships with anyone, especially before the war ended. Did he want a relationship? Would it get in the way of his duties? Before he could overthink he found General Skywalker. He was in the hangar speaking to a trooper and General Kenobi. Rex nodded at them in a small greeting.

“General, Trooper.” Rex said to the group.

“Morning Rex.” Skywalker greeted him back.

“General Skywalker, can we speak in private?”

“Sure.”

Obi-wan and the soldier left promptly.

“What is it, Rex?” Anakin asked.

Rex looked around, troops were buzzing around the hangar going in all directions.

“Uh, maybe somewhere more private.”

Anakin nodded and started leading him away to an empty hangar control room.

“Is there something I should be worried about?” Anakin asked the Captain.

“No sir”

Once they got to the control room, Anakin closed the door behind them and stood next to it looking at Rex.

“Well, I had a question for you. A hypothetical question.”

“Go on.” Said Anakin.

“Well say hypothetically, there’s a soldier who has taken a liking to someone on their team. Hypothetically the teammate is showing interest as well, but the soldier has not had any form of a real relationship before and has important duties to attend to. Should the soldier pursue the teammate or keep their distance?”

“Huh, and this is all hypothetical?”

Rex nodded.

Anakin smirked at the Captain.

“Well, I think the soldier should have as many experiences as possible.

Relationships with teammates can be complicated. Just keep doing your- I mean he should keep doing his job and keep the relationship quiet. I don’t think many people will mind.”

Rex looked down at his feet, thinking about what was said.

“This is all hypothetical of course.” Anakin winked at him and left the control room.

Rex replayed the questions that has been plaguing his mind for the past few days. He knew his body yearned for you. His mind was even more fond of the medic. He managed to control his urges but that didn’t stop his dreams from reminding him of his current issue.

What the General said did strike a chord with him. To have more experiences. Rex walked out of the control room and headed down through the hangar. He needed to talk to you, just not today. He was still reeling from the last time he saw you. He needed time to think about what he wanted to say to you. You worked with him, Rex wanted to be careful about how he went about explaining his feelings to you. He walked back to his bunk to check his holo-pad. There was an upcoming mission briefing soon. He made his way to the bridge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slipping into your battle gear was no easy feat but you managed. You were being called to a special assignment. You weren't given the details yet but you were excited to get back into the field. After the Umbara incident, you got benched to make sure you're ok to go back into battle. Na'wi has been getting all the fun assignments, meanwhile, you're stuck on the ship. She even got called early to the mission you were getting ready for. Someone was supposed to contact you soon to brief you on the mission. You went through your pack to make sure you had all your supplies fully cleaned and stocked. You were a little nervous but you knew this mission would be better this time. Your holoprojector beeped in your pocket. You pulled it quickly and answered it. The holo materialized onto the device showing Na'wi and Anakin. You greeted them warmly.

“Hey girl, we're briefing you on the mission.” Na'wi said.

“Alright, hit me.” You responded. Anakin spoke.

“Well, This one is a little bit different from what you would normally do. But you can help us a lot.” You nodded waiting for him to continue.

“The people of the planet Shili have been kidnapped. We suspect it was Zygerrian Slavers with the help of Dooku.”

“Zygerrians?!” You exclaimed.

“Yeah, we figured that might strike a chord with you. We are going to Zygerria to infiltrate the system and get the Togruta people back to their home planet. Believe me, I have no desire to be civil with that scum. But, given your planetary history, you could prove useful.”

You looked down at your feet, processing the information you were given. Your planet has had issues with the Zygerrians for centuries. They saw your people as nothing but prizes to be won. Despite your planet remaining peaceful for all these years they still try to kidnap and enslave your people. They are a cunning and money-hungry planet.

“So you're going to use me as bait?” You asked.

“Not exactly. We need someone the Zygerrians will stop at nothing to have. You won't be sold, and you'll be with Rex, Ahsoka and I the whole time. Listen, you don't have to take this mission if it's too much.”

You knew the General wasn't trying to make you sound weak for turning the mission down but it bothered you anyway. You haven't seen action in weeks, not taking it would mean at least another few weeks benched.

“Alright, I'll help.”

“Great, you won't need your gear or armor, and wear something more...Traditional if you know what I mean.” Anakin said.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, ok I can do that.”

“Hey, that wasn't my idea it was her's” He pointed to Na'wi.

“Well, the plan will work better if she doesn't look like a Republic nurse. The rest of the Squadron will be holding down the fort on Shili waiting for you guys to return.” Na'wi said.

“Don't worry, we'll be in costume too. Our shuttle will arrive in the hangar in about thirty minutes. Be ready by then.” Anakin said.

“Yes sir.”

You severed the connection and put your holoprojector back in your pocket. You stared at the wall for a second before making your way to your closet. You saved a few outfits from your planet for when you visit home. You picked an outfit that you didn't care if it got ruined. It was a long orange skirt with embroidery and beading on it. It came with a matching one-shoulder crop top. You also grabbed a pair of simple brown sandals. It was considered a casual piece of clothing for your family despite the hours it took to make. You remember the shop you got it from, a kind old woman sized and fit it for you. You're sure she wouldn't mind making you another one. You took off your field nurse uniform and slipped into the outfit.

You set the clothes aside and went back into your closet and pulled out a large jewelry box. Jewelry is a status symbol on your planet. The more beads, shells, and gems you wore, the more important you are. You chose pieces that had little sentimental value as they would probably be lost during the mission. The Zygerrians would know that. You placed gold cuffs on your pointed ears, making sure your hair was done in a way they were very visible. You placed gold bands on your arms and rings into your nostrils. Some had beads dangling from them. You fastened some shells into your hair as well. Lastly, you placed a gold cuff onto your tail, it has a band of red crystal running through it, a crystal that can only be found on your planet.

You pulled out a black cloak to hide your clothing while you walked to the hangar. Not that you were embarrassed by your culture, but more embarrassed by what you were about to do on this mission. You wanted to draw as little attention to yourself as possible.

You walked quickly to the hangar, luckily avoiding most people on your way. When you got there you saw a small ship that didn't look like a republic ship. Ahsoka, Anakin, and R2-D2 were standing near the entrance. Ahsoka noticed you first, giving you a small wave as you approached. Anakin turned towards you, He was wearing a typical Zygerrian slavers uniform. You grimaced slightly at the sight.

“Alright, we're all here. Let's get this over with.” The general said.

You followed them inside the ship and saw Rex and Obi-wan dressed similarly to Anakin. Anakin sat in the pilot's seat, Rex his co-pilot. Rex looked over his shoulder at you and nodded. You didn't acknowledge him back as you were still a little sore from your last encounter with him. He turned his attention back to the ship and started to take off. The flight would only be a few minutes long so you leaned on the wall as the other spoke. As the ship drew closer to Zygerria, more ships appeared trying to enter the planet's atmosphere.

“Looks like Zygerria is a popular place these days.” Anakin said.

“Whatever is happening is attracting plenty of high-class scum.” Obi-wan added.

As the ship lowered onto the planet your nerves heightened. You didn't know what you were in for, but you had to trust your Generals and your Captain. Ahsoka placed a hand on your shoulder as if she could feel your emotions.

“Hey, don't worry. I'm in the same boat as you are. I'll be right with you.” She said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I'm also gonna be a bargaining chip for the Zygerrians.”

You hummed. “I see, well I don't know if that makes me feel better but at least I'm not alone in that.”

Ahsoka smiled and went to the back of the ship. You felt the ship land with a thud. When Ahsoka emerged she was cloaked head to toe. You pulled the hood of your cloak up to match her a bit more. The group left the ship, The Generals and Captain leading while you and Ahsoka followed behind. The planet was warm and sunny, a contrast to what you were about to experience. Walking towards the capital you kept your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. The city was...less than hospitable. There were slave auctions and animal fights. It disgusts you. As you were walking a Twi'lek man fell onto the walking path. A Zygerrian told him to get up.

“Get up, you useless skug.” The Zygerrian spat.

“Master, the bonds, they're too heavy.” The Twi'lek said.

The Zygerrian growled. “Tell it to my whip.”

He unsheathed his weapon, about to lash the man. A hand grabbed the Zygerrians arm.

“You don't want to do that.” Ahsoka stopped the Slaver.

You helped the Twi'lek up onto his feet silently.

“You dare touch me?!” The Zygerrian said to Ahsoka.

“Excuse my slave, friend. She is freshly caught” Anakin interjected.

Two more guards approached.

“Hmm, what have we here? You wear Zygerrian armor but are not one of us. Who are you?” The Zygerrian asked.

“I've come for an audience with the queen.”

“Then you have an invitation. We cannot just let anyone in to speak with her majesty.”

“No invitation, but I do bring news. News the queen will be eager to hear.” Anakin said with a smirk.

“I doubt that you're nothing more than a Brigand.”

“I wouldn't say that, especially when the queen learns you prevented her from hearing the news about Bruno Denturri.”

An observation droid floats in between Anakin and the Zygerrian.

“Halt, cease all hostilities. This man is to be escorted to the palace by order of the queen.” The droid said.

While the standoff was happening, Obi-wan and Rex snuck off unnoticed. The walk to the palace was short. Standing in the throne room was nerve-inducing, knowing what the Zygerrians would do to get their hands on your people. And here you are on a silver platter. The Queen had a few pet birds around her.

“Make sure all preparations are complete for this evening.” The Queen said to one of her servants.

When she glanced down at Anakin her face lit up.

“And fetch refreshments.” She called to them.

The Zygerrian that escorted you introduced Anakin.

“My Queen, I present, Lars Quell.”

“Hmm so, you're the man who claims to be acquainted with Bruno Denturri?” She asked Anakin or Lars.

“Yes, your Highness. however, when I spoke with him, he failed to describe your beauty.”

You sighed. This was the plan huh?

The Queen chuckled. “Really? And did Bruno speak of my intense hatred of him? Or did that escape his memory as well?” The Queen asked with a scowl.

The Zygerrian guard raised his blaster at Anakin. Anakin gently pushed the blaster tip away from his face.

“He needed not speak of it, your majesty. In fact, Bruno Denturri will not be speaking...Ever again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bruno Denturri's dead by my hand. Here are two slaves from his palace, compensation for my efforts.”

Anakin grabbed Ahsoka's cloak and revealed her beautiful blue slave outfit. You would've wanted to know where she got it if it weren't for the circumstances.

“Unhand me, Brigand!” Ahsoka exclaimed.

“And this one I think you'll especially take a liking to.” Anakin walked up to you and took your cloak off.

The Queen gasped and stood up.

“An Igbo woman, she is rare. You impress me, Lars Quell, they are quite a prize. And to have defeated Bruno Denturri in combat? Well, you must be quite the warrior.” The Queen approached.

The servants bowed to her so you and Ahsoka followed suit. She circled you slowly, inspecting. She grabbed your tail and you fought the urge to pull away and hiss. She let go but replaced her grip on your face. Turning your head side to side and opening your mouth to see your teeth.

“What region are you from?” The Queen asked you.

“Yoruba.” You responded. Your tail flicked back and forth in annoyance.

The Queen hummed. “These slaves are certainly of fine stock. Bruno always knew how to choose a beautiful female.”

The Queen stalked over to Ahsoka and gripped her arm.

“Don't you dare touch me.” Ahsoka ripped out of the Queen's grasp.

The queen scowled “Though she will have to be processed. Her demeanor leaves much to be desired. I will bring in a friend of mine for the Igbo woman, he will pay nicely for her. What is your price for the Togruta?”

“With respect, how can I price the beauty of these slaves when I look upon the magnificence of your Highness, whose beauty would make the brightest star seem dull by comparison?” Anakin said.

Ahsoka looked at you and rolled her eyes. You shrugged in response.

“Lars Quell, you flatter me.” The Queen chuckled.

“No your majesty, however...” Anakin started whispering in the Queen's ear. She giggled.

“Lars, stop it, stop it! Hmm you are a bold one aren't you?”

“My reputation precedes me then.”

“Perhaps we can find a way to put a price on your slaves. Come walk with me.” Anakin and the queen linked arms and walked up the throne room steps.

You and Ahsoka followed. Beyond the throne room was a large balcony. The Queen's Twi'lek slave followed her with a tray of beverages. The queen took one and continued to speak to Anakin.

“Slavery is the natural order of things. The weak deserve nothing more than to kneel before the strong, bound to our service.” She continued.

“I will need men with your talents to spread our ways across the galaxy.”

Suddenly, The Twi'lek girl lunged at the queen with a knife. Anakin grabbed her forearm stopping her assault.

“Ah, let me go!” She screamed at Anakin. He released her and she fell back.

“You dare raise a hand against your master? Clearly, you require further processing.” The Queen said with venom.

The girl backed up to the balcony wall.

“No! I won't go back there!.” She said while climbing onto the wall.

“Wait, Stop!” Anakin lunged for the girl, but it was too late. She jumped.

You gasped and covered your mouth as you heard her body hit the ground. That poor girl was driven to kill herself because of these people.

The Queen sat on the balcony edge and sighed.

“Such a waste, but perhaps she was more trouble than she's worth.”

“But you Lars, you are proving quite resourceful, very well I will pay your price for this slave girl. It seems I am in need of a new servant.” She gestured to Ahsoka.

Anakin glanced once more at the body below. “She is my gift to you, your Highness.”

“You are a man of many surprises, it pleases me. My friend should be here shortly for the Igbo woman. Also, I wish you to be my guest at the slave auction, and to sit at my side.” The queen held her hand out for Anakin to take. He took it gently and led her away. Back inside the throne room, another Zygerrian guard entered.

“Your majesty, your guest is here.” He said.

Your heart pounded. You took a deep breath willing yourself to calm down. The man that entered was huge. He towered over the other Zygerrian guards and held authority. The Queen went to greet him.

“Ah, Jarok. Welcome, I have a wonderful surprise for you.” The Queen beckoned you over. You walked up to them calmly not looking him in the eye.

“Where did you catch her.” The Zygerrian now known as Jarok asked not taking her gaze off of you.

“She was acquired at Bruno Denturri's palace.” Anakin said.

Jarok placed a finger under your chin, lifting your head. You looked into his eyes.

“For years, I have been searching for one such as you.” His voice was firm and quiet.

“What is your price?”

[voidscarredadjudicator]

Hey guys. Sorry for being quiet for a month. Hopping on here to let y'all know that I do still have a pulse. Things have been... fine? I guess? Here's a bit of a wordy update on my situation right now, but the tl;dr is, I'm good, HE is still on hiatus, but I'll get back into the groove soon hopefully. Also happy holidays!

The mysterious and vague 'personal life stuff' is still ongoing, and I really don't know how long it'll be something that I have to deal with. I'm continuing to not elaborate because it is very much a personal life thing, but I can assure you that nobody's dying or anything grim like that.

On an only somewhat related note, my expendable income has shrank dramatically in the past few months, so I've been having to get a lot more stingy with what I spend money on. I'm not poverty stricken; I can still afford rent and bills and groceries and whatnot, I just gotta cut corners where I can so I can actually build up my savings.

What does this mean for Humanity's Endling? Well, it's... still on hiatus, technically. But really it just means I'm picking up more shifts than I'd usually care to, which means less time to actually work on it. If work were being done on it to begin with. I'm also cutting out my NSO subscription, which unfortunately means I will not be playing Splatoon 3 much at all anymore. Granted, I was kinda taking a break from it already, so it's not like I've been getting my money's worth of the subscription anyways. So if you were curious about my absence during this most recent Big Run, or the lack of a lengthy season observation/headcanon post like last time, that is why.

All of that said, it's not like I haven't been writing at all - just been hard focusing what creative juices I'm still able to generate given my situation on the accursed TTRPG I've mentioned in prior rambles, as that's an actively running thing that I kinda need to constantly pump stuff out for.

Speaking of which, I pulled a Super Mario Galaxy and wrote a whole ass children's book for the players to find as a lore thing. It was written with the intention of just being a normal children's book in a bubble, but when viewed with the context of the entire campaign thus far, takes on a completely different meaning. Which is to say, you don't need to know a damn thing about the campaign to appreciate the story - a theory I tested by having two people who aren't players read it.

One almost cried. The other actually cried. And when the players found it in our most recent session, one of them also cried, and we had to take a breather after the fact.

Not to pat myself on the back or anything, but I feel like that's one hell of an achievement. So I am pretty proud of myself for that. If you guys are interested, I might clean it up a bit and post it either on Ao3 as an original work or just straight onto this tumblr. It's only about 2k words, so it should fit nicely in a single post.

That's all I can really think of to say at the moment. Again, even though I might seem a bit quiet, I am still here. I take a peek at tumblr at least once a day to see if anyone's sent any asks or anything like that, so don't be afraid to toss something into my inbox if you have a question.

Oh, and for the anon who sent an ask suggesting me to upload what I have of Act II done already - I don't exactly plan my stories in a linear fashion, nor do I write them as such either. It's closer to me thinking of the major moments I wanna do, plotting out how to connect them, refining, refining, refining, rearranging, refining, scrap half of what I have done, rearranging, suddenly having an epiphany, scrapping another chunk... yeah, it's a bit chaotic. I see what you're trying to say though, and I do appreciate the suggestion, but it can't really be done with the way I go about writing.

That's it from me. Happy Holidays. Play Cyberpunk 2077. It's a good game, I swear. Or Undertale Yellow if you own a toaster. It's me, I own a toaster. I played Cyberpunk on my brother's computer. Thanks, bro. Love you.

[bellaxgiornata]

hi!! i really hope i don’t stress you out AT ALL with this (i know you have a lot of fics and new ones coming out) but i was just wondering if your older matt fics have been discontinued? i know you are still actively working on ATY and FFTD so i am truly just curious as to whether or not to look out for new updates on any others! i love your work and i hope you have an amazing day!!

Hi friend! You're not stressing me out at all! Thank you for the question!

Are you meaning the Matt Murdock x OFC fics I have? If so, those are not discontinued, they're just on a very long hiatus 😅 And there's more chapters for both than what I have posted on tumblr at the moment. Caught in the Undertow was about finished when I sort of hit a really difficult situation that made it hard for me to continue that story (it's the only long fic I have that's a bit close to home for me) and Life Worth Living has two chapters written that I need to edit, but honestly that one is SO in depth with little hints and details hidden in there that I need to sort of reread some of that story myself to be able to properly edit and share those other chapters and to continue working on it. Which I keep meaning to do, but I'll be honest, I go where the obvious interest is for fics. When y'all get excited about updates, I get excited to keep working on that fic. That's probably true for most if not all writers. So if it feels like the interest is on other things (usually Reader fics and not OCs), then that's what I'll be working on. Without the feedback I just assume y'all just aren't as interested so I focus my time elsewhere unfortunately.

As for Keep Coming Back to You, I, ironically enough, keep intending to come back to it 🤣 The next chapter for that was almost written but I started ATY shortly after and that one got way more interest so I focused my attention on that series. The feedback truly does let me know what y'all want to read--though sometimes I'm just feeling a particular story and can't stop writing it 😅

Hopefully that answered your question! I always intend to come back to those others, LWL and KCBTY for sure. Especially KCBTY when I hit the angst because I'm craving angst lately 🤣But I'm so glad you enjoy my writing so much!! Honestly, I've been in my head about my writing this week and reading that definitely gave me the warm fuzzies, so thank you! And I hope you have an amazing day as well! ❤

[emimaki]

Naruto's secret

I really don't know how this will do, if anyone's going to be interested, but lately I've been over-analyzing Naruto and read a lot of takes on the ending. I wrote this short little snippet with Naruto's true feelings in mind regarding his ending. Mind that I incorporated my original characters, Daichi and Kasumi Uzumaki, who is Naruto's older sister. They're not the main point of the story but if anyone's interested in them, I could share some infos about them later on. Disclaimer: This is a HEAVY anti-Naruto ending, anti-NaruHina, anti-Naruto The Last, slight anti-SasuSaku. NH shippers DNI. _____________________________________________________________

"You think I could stay the whole week?" Naruto asked his brother-in-law who was draping a blanket over his slerping wife's shoulders.

"Mh? Sure, I don't think Kasumi would mind but dont you have your family to return to?" Daichi questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah right..." A small sigh left Naruto's lips as they twitched into a sad smile. "Is... something wrong between you and Hinata?" Daichi sat across from Naruto, looking at him worriedly. Naruto pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled through his nostrils. "Can I be honest with you, Daichi? From a man to another."

Daichi nodded without second thought, "Of course Naruto. We're brothers, aren't we?" He grinned at the blonde in front of him, causing a warm smile to spread across his lips but it quickly turned into a frown. "I never loved Hinata." He finally admitted, causing Daichi's eyes to widen in shock

"What?! What do you mean you never loved Hinata?" He asked, standing up from his seat and slamming his hands on the table. "Not so loud!" Naruto whisper-yelled, putting a finger in front of his mouth as he glanced at his sleeping sister worriedly. When he saw that she was still fast asleep, he let out another sigh before continuing. "Look. I know this sounds awful but hear me out. When we went on that mission to prevent the Moon from falling on the Earth, I got caught into a genjutsu."

Daichi's eyebrows knitted in confusion, "Wait, I thought perfect jinchurikis couldn't get caught into genjutsus." "I know, I was confused to but... It happened. And in this genjutsu, I got to see Hinata's memories. How she spent her whole life pining after me, yearning for me to acknowledge her. I felt bad. Because I never noticed it. I didn't know she loved me. I thought what was doing was merely camaraderie because I knew I'd do the same for any of my friends. Then I remembered Neji's last words. How my life wasn’t just my own anymore. And then- I talked with Sakura. She said that a girl’s feelings don’t change that easily. So I understood that she’d never love me like I love her, and that Hinata will always keep loving me. That’s why I decided to return her feelings. So I could hopefully grant Neji's last wish and make her happy." Naruto finally admitted, after 13 years of repressed emotions.

____________________________________________________________

Lemme know if y'all want to see the rest, cuz I wrote more, just wanted to see how this do.

[b-a-pigeon]

My Nanowrimo project this year is just a rewrite of the same story I was writing last year, which is... hard to explain, kind of!

It takes place in an industrial-era, vaguely-fantasy-steampunk setting (taking very loose inspiration from 19th-20th century Central & West Asia) in the midst of widespread political change.

The protagonist is an amnesiac vampire named Ara, who is traveling across the continent by hopping trains in order to get his old journals & some lost memories back. He gets stuck at the border, where he meets an academic who offers to employ him while studying his case—but what Ara learns from the people he meets here raises more questions about his past than answers, and he has to choose between continuing his journey or staying long enough to unravel the truth. (I need to figure out a less vague way to describe this plot but there's like. a lot going on lol!)

Worldbuilding for this project has been so interesting because Ara is experiencing a lot of the world for the first time in his memory, so he has this outsider perspective on recent developments that everyone else takes for granted. Like, all the recent industrialization and urbanization and mass migration and the creation of nation-states with policed borders are all normal for the people he interacts with, but the notes he has (dating from decades earlier) depict a completely different world and he doesn't know how to navigate or make sense of any of it.

It also has me thinking a lot about how a predominately human world would impact nonhumans in a political sense. There are elves here who live in remote rural locations now suddenly contending with border police in their territories, and the reality that humans have claimed every bit of land as theirs; nomadic vampires who have never had or needed documentation in their lives suddenly unable to travel legally between the places they split their time. Fantasy racism is like, broadly very corny but it stands to reason that a world with a human majority would end up trampling on nonhuman minorities as their states scramble for power and wealth so... I'm trying to do this in a way that is actually thoughtful and not corny but we'll see!

Anyway this kind of turned into a rambling infodump but I wanna post about this project more, so I'm resisting the urge to stay silent until I have a clean and pretty intro post lol. I'm making it a vague goal to post regular updates (with excerpts maybe??) all month so hopefully y'all will learn more soon!