#i don't usually write but i wanted to participate in this this year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

michaellangdonswhore · 1 year

Text

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

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You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

#jonathan crane #dc scarecrow #scarecrow #the scarecrow #batman imagine #the batman #batman #the dark knight #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillain murphy #jonathan crane smut

3K notes · View notes

darcylindbergh · 2 months

Note

I’m a queer minor with an unsupportive Republican family and I feel so fucking helpless about the election. What can I do or at least how can I stay safe?

listen to me. i am taking your face in my hands. i am looking into your eyes. listen. your second question is the right one. your safety is your priority. have you ever been on a plane? and they do the little safety routine? and when the masks fall down, they say, "put your own oxygen mask on before helping others?"

as a queer kid, this is a put your own mask on before helping others situation.

there are things you can do to get involved but first and foremost, you gotta be safe. if that means you don't come out and you don't talk about politics and you don't get involved in activism until you can be independent, that's what it means. i know it sucks to hear. it really sucks saying it, tbh. i want you to be big and out and loud and proud, and i never want you to have to make yourself small, but more than anything i want you to be safe.

so everything i'm about to say is with this caveat. safety first. your own mask before helping others.

here's a link to the lgbt national youth talkline. this service won't call outside agencies (like 911) on your behalf, unless you're making a credible threat to someone else.

the Trevor Project also has a hotline and chat services. they do call outside agencies on your behalf to report imminent harm to yourself or others as well as reporting child abuse. i'm not saying one is better than the other. i just want you to know what each service does.

the Trevor Project also has trevorspace, which i guess is like social media for lgbt youth? i am not a youth so i didn't sign up to check it out but it could be a good place to find folks to talk and connect with. connections are so good.

here's some things you can do. i tried to include a bunch of things with different amounts of involvement so you can pick your safety level.

read. read so much. read about people who are like you and who are not like you. read fiction that celebrates queer joy and read nonfiction books about antiracism and intersectionality and the history of queer people in the US. do you know who has a cool amount of information on queer history in the US? the national park service. watch queer movies, even (especially, tbh) old ~problematic stuff, look up what people say about it now. read through the articles on decolonizepalestine.com. watch interviews about Black joy. know your rights. read banned books. if you can't do, learn. read. just because it's happening inside your head doesn't mean it's real work.

check out scarleteen, which is a fantastic resource for queer sex ed and relationship information. a lot of their articles are older now, but still 100% great reads.

watch what your family is watching - debates, news stories, whatever - and ask yourself how would i respond to that? look up how to respond to that. you can use this time to start learning how to dissect political speech and how to respond to it. both sides do this! read news from both sides and see how it compares.

make your daily 5 calls. they give you scripts and everything. if you don't want to talk to a real human person, calling in the evening will usually get you a voicemail. talking on the phone is a hugely important social skill - if you don't have it, the 5 calls are a great way to start and to start addressing your discomfort with phones.

20 states allow 17-year-olds to vote in the primaries.

Pre-register to vote if you're eligible.

Vote Forward puts on a letter writing campaign you can participate in.

NextGen America has in-person volunteer opportunities in 8 states, and virtual opportunities globally. Although they target voters 18-35, volunteers can be any age. (hey adults - you listening?)

here's even more information on phone or text banking! for most of these, you don't have to be 18.

Organize a voter registration drive at your high school. the Civics Center has a free, one-hour online workshop that will walk you through how to host a drive and they'll even send you swag for it. check out their "for students" tab - they have sharable graphics, workshops, lots of stuff.

in some states, people under 18 can sign up to be poll workers. (hey adults - we can do this too)

CIRCLE is a civic engagement center that focuses on getting youth out to vote, but also educating folks. check their website out. listen. politics are so boring like, 99.9% of the time. the more you know about how it works, the more effective you can be when you want to get involved.

look up your local political body, find out when they meet. attend the meetings. in my county we have a board of commissioners that meet once a month, and a couple of committees as well. i don't go every time but now that i can log into the meetings via Zoom, I do about every other month or so. did you see that video of violet affleck speaking at the LA board of supervisors meeting? that could be you, babe.

so there's a lot you can do actually! here's some more stuff you can do!!

know, with 100% certainty, in your heart of hearts, that there are so many people who want you to be out and proud and loud and yourself. and there are so many people who are fighting for you to be able to do that. there are so many adults, queer and non-queer, rooting for you, standing up for you, putting ourselves between you and a future where you have to keep making yourself small. and you will get older and i know it's trite but THINGS REALLY DO GET BETTER, and someday you will be the queer adult on this side of the screen protecting kids like you. you gotta keep on keeping on and keeping yourself safe so you can do that someday.

log off. LOG OFF. doomscrolling is a form of self-harm. deliberately seeking out endless articles and tiktoks and whatever about news and information that will upset you is not activism, babe! it's harm! you aren't helping anyone by being hurt. there's a difference between being informed and hurting yourself. find the line. hold yourself to it.

stop using chat gpt. it's terrible. forget you ever knew about it. that's not related to activism its just like, general health, and also climate change. while i'm here, switch to firefox and duckduckgo.

go outside. it turns out touching grass is actually important for our mental health. go find some.

pick up a hobby that does something with your hands, if you're able to. i cross-stitch and play piano (badly). pick up drawing. cooking. embroidery. underwater basket weaving. it's important to find something that shows you what YOU can do with YOUR two hands. you can do so much.

find your people. online, in person. find your people. when i got this ask, i - not a parent - threw it to my people and they helped me find some resources. we're doing this together.

this is kind of silly but i love doing it. find the marriage license announcements in your county or township or whatever and look for gay people. you'll be guessing by names, so watch out - we love trans people who have and haven't made the legal name change! - but GOD. i've looked at the marriage license announcements literally every two weeks (which is how often they're published in my county) since Obergefell v Hodges 9 years ago, which is when we got gay marriage in my state, and it's so fucking healing. in the last 9 years, i have seen hundreds of gay people make this announcement. every two weeks, there are four or five gay couples in my community out of maybe 15, 20 (i live in a pretty small county). look up why marriage rights have mattered so much to our community. these marriage license announcements are just such a small, bright spot of joy and seeing the names - real people! in my real community! - cradles my heart. find what cradles your heart.

this has gotten long enough so i'm going to set it free. i'm sure there will be people in the notes adding things. for you parents out there, leave your love in the comments. for the rest of us extremely cool and suave adults, pick something off the list and volunteer too, and look at this anon and think yes, this is why we do it. kids like us who are kids now, who will be us later. for you Youth out there, put your oxygen mask on first and then help others.

i love you.

it gets better.

#darcy answers

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lampmeeting · 14 days

Text

Just a couple weeks until the end of September, so you know what that means!

Kloktober is almost upon us! 🎃🦇

What is Kloktober?: An incredibly zazzy event taking place in October where we celebrate all things Metalocalypse. There’s a prompt for every day of the month to interpret as you see fit! Draw, write, cosplay, make memes, whatever you like - all forms of participation are welcome!

How do I participate?: Make your totally brutal creation inspired by the day’s prompt and post it using the tag #kloktober2024 - it’s just that simple! Post it here, post it to Twitter, post it to AO3, post it to Instagram, wherever you usually post your creative stuff!

But am I allowed to–YUP, ANYTHING GOES! There are no wrong answers during Kloktober! ✨ However you decide to interpret a prompt, it's valid! If you only want to do a few days, or even just manage to do one, that’s also completely valid. Please don't burn yourself out or stress, this is for fun!

What if I don't vibe with one of the prompts? No worries! If there's a prompt that doesn't suit you, please feel free to reach back in time and choose a prompt from a previous year's Kloktober (2023, 2022, 2021, or 2020). And as always, if you have any questions about anything, hit me up!

(plain text version of the prompts are below for anyone who needs them!)

your favorite character

your favorite relationship

horror movie crossover

dressed to kill

use a self-insert or OC

road trip or drug trip

furryklok or demonklok

a favorite headcanon

use someone's parents

bravery or cowardice

inspired by your culture

tattoos or piercings

create-a-skwigelf

use a Halloween treat

one year after AOTD

costume party or sleepover party

use the ghost of a dead character

palling around with another band

what if they never got famous?

Abigail Appreciation Day!

use two character who never met

too much booze or too much sugar

Dethklok as a different music genre

fix them or make them worse

inspired by a metal song

post-apocalypse or cyberpunk

bring back a one-off character

conspiracy theory or propaganda

birthday or funeral

HALLOWEEN!!!

YOUR choice!

#metalocalypse #dethklok #kloktober #kloktober2024

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libraryraccoon · 7 months

Note

OMG I SAW YOU WERE TAKING REQUESTS!!!! If you don’t mind, could I request Alastor, Vox, (Any other overlord or any character you’d like to add!) with a reader whose just as unhinged and crazy like Floyd from Twst!!! Please and thank you 🙏

Gender : GN

Pronouns : No pronouns really used ('They' one time')

Character(s) : Alastor, Vox, Lucifer

Info : Reader is tall (6'3), Reader like to bite in Lucifer' part, Reader is from the Mafia. I write this thinking of a before/pre relationship.

Message from Raccoon : I try to write a Floyd!reader, but I won't lie, it was hard and I probably failed- sorry.

Alastor

You met him at the time when he was killing overlords.

He went into an alley to find his next victim, when he saw you, in a bad mood, beating the overlord's skull against a wall.

When you noticed him, more specifically noticing his deer ears, you ran towards him, stopping in front of him before starting to stroke his ears…

He asked you to stop 3 times, did you do it ? No.

Although he didn't like it, he didn't do anything because he didn't want to end up like the other Overlord that you have killed.

On the other hand, he really almost killed you when you noticed his deer tail and touched it.

Even you don't know how you survived, not that you care..

He, over time, learned to manage your mood.

And your nickname that you give to everyone, his being Sharky because of his pointy teeth and his smile.

The best thing to get you back in a good mood was for him to let you touch his ears or let you participate in the usual chaos of the underworld.

He quickly learned to hide his deer tail from you. When you found out, you almost ended a third of hell if he hadn't stopped you.

The Overlords are afraid of you. It’s said, it’s a fact.

People always run 20km away when they see you and Alastor, or kill themselves.

It always makes you laugh.

When he left for 7 years, no demon knew how to manage your temper, so they entrusted it to the only person other than Alastor who knows how to manage them.. Husk.

Husk had to stay with you at all times because otherwise you would burn and kill any demon that you see, even the Overlords.

When Husk was teleported to the hotel and saw Alastor, his first reaction was to cry with joy, because yes, finally he can stop being with you everydays.

...Then he saw you weren't there.

"Shit."

“A bit vulgar my friend for a welcome.”

“Y/N isn’t here, they are alone.”

…

“Ah.”

That 'ah' said it all.

When Alastor and Husk saw you, a minute after that, you were at the hotel door, in a bad mood, with the hell behind you burning.

Alastor said nothing when you touched his deer ears and tail, preferring to focus on the well-being and survival of the hotel.

There was something Alastor did NOT miss, it was your 'hugs'.

More like your attempts to break his ribs if he's honest.

As much as he loves you, he prefers to keep his ribs intact. So STOP SQUEEZING HIM IN A WAY THAT BREAKS HIS RIBS-

It happens that you have moments where you are both together and calm, a rare thing.

The most often when this happened was when Alastor was reading while you were in bed, trying to sleep.

Ah, the bed, the only place where you are calm and tired.

Sometimes, when you couldn't sleep, you talked about what your life was like before, how your father was a Mafia boss and how you and your twin were part of it.

And Alastor didn't doubt about it, especially when you talked about your twin and how much you missed them.

These were Alastor's favorite moments.

Although he also liked when you made some sort of potions or poisons.. He never knew what you did exactly, but it kept you in a good mood without having to touch him or destroy hell.

Good thing.

Vox

You have heard a conversation between Husk and Angel Dust about what Valentino did to him.

You didn't like it.

And what do we do when we don't like something ?

We're destroying it !

Vox found you at the same time as Velvette and Valentino.

You were destroying Val's entire studio.

“WHERE IS THE ASSHOLE NAMED VALENTINO ?!”

Valentino has never been so afraid to say it was him.

Vox tried to calm you down, but he failed…

You broke half of his screen.

It started off very badly.

You left only 20 minutes later, when Angel Dust and Charlie put you back in a good mood by promising you that you could play with Alastor's deer tail, before taking you back to the hotel.

I'm not going to let go of Alastor and his fucking deer tail.

Valentino didn't go near Angel Dust for a month after he found out you destroyed everything just because he slapped him.

You didn't see Vox again until three days later, when you were in a good enough mood again to apologize.

You went there, alone, without anyone to accompany you or who knew where you were..

Worrying thing when you are supposed to be monitored 24/7.

You just thought to yourself, “How about I go squeeze electric eel as an apology.” and thought that was a good idea.

When he saw you, he almost gave in.

You didn't say anything, you just squeeze him super tight and called him "electric eel".

You almost broke his ribs in the 'hug' by the way.

And it lasted an hour, you released him because you were starting to get bored.

It was after that, that began a friendship that would soon become more.

Vox didn't have a way to put you in a good mood except squeezing him, letting you beat up Valentino, or letting you create chaos in Hell.

Did he use that to his advantage ? Of course !

Whenever you were in a bad mood, he took you to devils he didn't like/rivals and told you to destroy everything.

Which you were more than happy to do.

People, following this, avoided messing with Vox, afraid of the monster behind him.

The only one he can't do that to is Alastor.

You find him too interesting with his deer characteristics to even think about doing it.

Vox's favorite moment is when he either sees you protecting him,

It's something simple, but something he loves. Seeing you beat the shit out of a demon for touching him or looking the wrong way was always a sight for him.

He always fell more and more when you did it, especially when it was Val-

His other favorite time was when you were in a good mood and you couldn't stop talking about something you liked/something random.

Like this time you told him that you were part of the mafia when you were alive with your twin..

Wait-

"WHAT ?!"

Lucifer

The first time you saw him was during his visit to the hotel.

You ran towards him before jumping on him.

I'll let you imagine a 6'3 person jumping on a 5'3/5'4 person…

He swears he saw death at that moment.

You crushed him in your arms.

Yes, crush. There are no other words.

A minute of silence for his ribs which were almost broken here.

“It’s Y/N, a resident of the hotel. We’re 50% sure he’s not dangerous !” Charlie said, trying to get you to let go of his father.

50% seemed way too generous as you tightened your grip on him.

If it wasn't for Husk who manages, one way or another, to make him let go, Lucifer is convinced that some of his ribs would be broken.

Lucifer has since considered you dangerous. And your mood swings didn't help.

The first time he saw you go from a good mood to a bad mood, just because he refused to let you squeeze him to death, he was quite surprised but also he was a little scared.

"No." "> :(" *go destroy a part of hell.*

How Hell still exists is a mystery-

He finds your size imposing.

It's your personal armrest. You always lean on him, you know how some tall people put their arms on a short person's head and lean on them and act like everything is normal ? It's you and Lucifer.

Apart from how terrifying you are in a bad mood, in a good mood you get along pretty well.

You're both energetic little shits who like to play pranks and build ducks.

Yes, you build ducks with Lucifer when you're in a good mood.

Why ? Because it's one of the only things that keeps you busy and in a good mood without the need to create chaos or squeeze people to death.

One day you made a duck that looked like him and you say "Duck that look like duckling."

He may have cry of joy at that moment.

You call him Duckling and Sea Bunny.

Let me just- *headcanon that he let you bite his wings when you're in a bad mood*

When you told him about your past, it wouldn't surprise him.

He had meet many demons, including some from the mafia.

That you were part of a mafia that was controlled by you're father was therefore not so surprising, but can also explains your violent behavior.

Also, to prevent you from destroying hell, he discovered that taking you flying with him put you directly in a good mood.

It was not uncommon to see Lucifer flying through Hell while carrying you. Flying always puts you in a good mood, even in your worst mood.

How he fell for someone so unstable is a mystery still unsolved.

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 year

Note

I think Hobie brown is the one character I've seen written completely out of character the most

Like, he would NOT say that

He definitely is. I see people write Miles and Gwen as spot on (pun unintended). Miguel and Pavitr are usually butchered for linguistics reasons

But with Hobie, him being a punk - one from a very specific time - adds a whole new layer of difficultly and honestly. At this point, I can't even blame people.

I think Hobie's mischaracterization is caused by two primary things, one purposeful, and one not. Please allow me to rant.

Hobie Brown, Mischaracterization, and the Sanitization of Punk Culture

I think Hobie's characterization is the perfect example of the way media purposely deminished and trivialized the punk identity in order to erase it's political connotations.

In other words, people misunderstanding Hobie shows how the media warped and censored the definition of 'punk' in the last 50 years.

And that's on purpose.

Let's take the hippies for an example. When you think of them, what beliefs comes to mind?

Peacefulness, usually. Pot smoking. Music loving. And Anti-war. They love peace. The phrase 'Make Love, Not War' make come to mind.

But it's easier for the media to historically display hippies as people who were opposed to war - rather than people who were openly oppossed to the Vietnamese War.

As in, they weren't just opposed to war - which they were. They were also specifically opposed to the United States government crossing borders in order to push a capitalist agenda in Vietnam.

It's easy to say hippes loved communes - then to say 'Hippies were Communist'. With a couple words switched around - sanitization.

Punk is just like that.

It's easier to focus on the response rather than the source. It's easier to look at Hobie singing than to consider what he'd be singing about in those songs.

I feel like in the past 50 years the media has purposely centered the outrage of punk around music - as a targeted distraction, and a method of silencing. This goes from the outward hatred of Sex Pistols - to a President's wife literally taking a metal band to court in order to get the 'Explicit Content label' instated for the first time.(crazyyyy long story- crazy interesting. Google 'Mary Gore vs Twister Sister' - the videos of the band in court is hilarious)

But anyway the outrage of punk music in specific and the silencing of the message behind it kinda changed the way people viewed punks.

Media very much wanted to make punk something about senseless rebellion towards everything, the same way they tried to turn anarchy into 'unending chaos that never stops', when neither of those things are true.

Basically saying 'Oh, those people over there? They aren't angry oppressed people screaming and forming a community based around resilience, those are teeennagerrs. theyre just screaming cause theyre mad at their dads or something PLEASE dont look at them PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT CHECK IF WE'RE TELLING THE TRUTH'

And so people are presented with someone like Hobie, they see the loud music, but not picking up what he's saying if you get my drift.

And the other thing I'll try to keep short.

It's not purposeful, but I think it matters.

The Internet - Subculture vs Aesthetic

I don't think this is something that's been talked about yet.

But I feel like a lot of people misunderstand what a subculture is. So when they see Hobie, they see fashion, and music taste, and attitude. They instead perceive him as an aesthetic. Not someone who participates in subculture.

Subculture is a way of life. It encompasses not only your fashion and music tastes, but it can and usually extends to things like your morals, your behaviors, the spaces you exist in, etc.

Goth, Punk, Vegans, hell - even Nudists - are all subcultures. Because they effects the persons lifestyle. Subcultures are lifestyles.

Aesthetics are not.

An aesthetic is a (usually) visual ambience that is meant to evoke a specific emotion.

Aesthetics can extend to fashion, decor, and music taste - but not your morality or behavior.

E-girls, Emos, Hipsters, what have you - all aesthetics as they do not encompass morals, or behaviors.

And because of that - there are things that do or don't make you a punk. But there aren't really things that do or don't 'make you emo'.

Aesthetics don't have conditions, but subcultures do.

You have to be anti-government to be punk. You don't have to hate your life to be emo.

(Which is why when people bring this up, people are quick to call 'gatekeeping!' Because in the context of aethetics gatekeeping is seen as unneccesary, whereas in subcultures 'gatekeping' is more so protecting the underlying beliefs and motivations of the movement. People who see Hobie as an aesthetic will find these conditions odd because they're not seeing his punkness as a subculture.)

Today on the internet, it's a lot more common and easy to engage in an aesthetic. It's not uncommon for someone to purposefully pick an aesthetic - and go all out - simply because they like it. It's great. I engage with an aesthetic all the time.

But because of that, when people see Hobie it's easy to immediately be like 'oh okay hes doing it out of fashion hes doing it because he vibes with it cool.'

They look at Hobie the way they would look at an eboy (do those still exist).

______________________________________________

Sooo mixing the censored image of a punk along with the modern-day instinct to perceive something as an aesthetic rather than a way of life kinda causes.....this.

A Hobie tag were a lot of people completely misunderstand who he is as a person and his motivations as a superhero outside of 'I hate the establishment'.

Plus add in a dash of people just being totally blank on 70's politics. The Vietnam War, Margaret Thatcher coming to power, the IRA, etc. - all of those things I think tells us a lot about Hobie. I'm currently on a piece about that and an explainer of most of those events. Or if you want a brief rundown please feel free to ask, I'll do my best.

If you wanna know Hobie more - don't listen to punk music. Go read the lyrics, if you get what I mean. They truly do have something to say.

Hope this made some sense, thanks for reading if you made it this far :) also no proofread we die like kings but ill most likely do it later and delete this note.

#atsv anaylsis #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spider man

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maplebellsmods · 2 months

Text

Country Club: Debutante Ball Mod

The Debutante Ball feature is finally here! This version is a bit different from the previous one I made. It will still consist mostly of rabbit hole events, but this time I did more research about debutante balls, how they work, and what makes them unique compared to other balls.

Introducing the Debutante Ball mod! You do need the Country Club Mod to use this mod.

How does this mod work?

Your Sim needs to be a member of the Cedar Creek Country Club and a teenager.

If these requirements are met, you can use your computer to apply to be a debutante ball participant. All of the interactions are located in the Country Club Pie Menu, under Debutante Ball. This is just a formality; all members will generally be invited to apply.

Written Approval from Parent/Guardian: Your parent/guardian can use the computer to write an approval for you. Once this step is complete, it will be greyed out.

Interview with Program Director: Your Sim will have a thirty-minute to one-hour phone call with the program director to get to know the applicant.

Debutante Committee Subscription/Donation: Your Sim will pay $3,750 as a contribution to the Debutante Ball Committee.

Once you have completed all of the steps, your Sim can submit the application. They will receive a call a few hours later, letting them know they have been invited to participate in the ball. If you do not receive a call, check the computer; you might have missed the call, but the invite was still received.

Once your Sim has been invited to apply, they better get started with the prep! It is long and requires a lot of work, especially if you want the best possible outcome for the ball.

There are a few activities the debutante is expected to participate in to prepare. They are not mandatory but are highly recommended. These activities are also TIMED, so if you don't attend during the specified time, you will miss them.

There are two versions of this mod: a long version and a short version. I created this mod with the long version in mind. Based on my research, preparation for debutante balls takes a lot of time. I wanted this to be a "year-long" event. Each week, your Sim will have some activities they should partake in before the final event.

This means that once your Sim is invited to participate in the ball, they have about a week to partake in that week's activities. These activities will no longer be available after a week, and new activities will be available for your Sim. I hope it doesn't sound too complicated, but once you play, it will be pretty simple.

For those of you who do not play long games, there is a short version. The short version has 3-day intervals, so you have less time for activities, but the event will happen faster.

Week 1

First Dance Rehearsal

First Etiquette Class

Week 2

Second Dance Rehearsal

Gown Fittings Begin

Second Etiquette Class

Week 3

Third Dance Rehearsal

Hair and Makeup Trials

Third Etiquette Class

Week 4

Final Dance Rehearsal

Final Gown Fitting

Photo Sessions

Event Briefing

Attend Ball

There are also a few social interactions available. You can find them under the Debutante Ball pie menu category.

Debutantes are usually accompanied by an escort. You can ask any Sim to be your escort, whether romantically or platonically.

You also have the opportunity to invite any Sim. When sending out the invites, make sure to include your escort. Regular tables allow for four seats, but your Sim can purchase a larger table with six additional seats, allowing your Sim to attend the ball with a total of ten guests.

Once you are in the fourth week you do need to make sure you complete the events before time runs out because the interactions will dissapear.

A couple of buffs from the mod.

If your sim performs exceptionally well at the ball, they have the chance to win a few awards. Depending on skills, traits, and life skills, they can win different awards.

Debutante of the Year: Award for the debutante who performed exceptionally well.

Best Dressed: Award for the debutante with the best gown.

Most Graceful: Award for the most graceful dancer.

Your sim will earn the Debutante Trait after the ball. This will give a boost in a lot of things in life. Include social skills. They will also be able to talk to current Debutantes by giving them advice.

Important

The long version's "Attend Ball" event is only available from Friday to Saturday.

Both the long and short versions start at 4 PM and last for 5 hours.

If you want to go the extra mile with planning. Your sim can book extra lessons, which will increase their charisma and manners. It can also be helpful for more prep if your sim missed certain activities. (Also helps towards winning Deb of the Year Award)

The final gown rehearsal will bring your Sim into CAS. You can use this opportunity to edit your Sim's formal outfit for the event.

That is all I can think of for now. The mod is pretty streamlined though so it should be pretty easy to use. Let me know if you have questions.

Does this mod require any DLC?

No, it does not.

Public Aug 4

Download:Here

#the sims 4 cc #ts4cc #the sims 4 #ts4 mods #ts4 #the sims 4 mods #ts4 cc #the sims #simblr #sims 4 edit #the sims cc #ts4 download #ts4 mod #sims 4 mods #thesims4 #ts4countryclub #ts4oldmoney #ts4 royalty

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jedi-hawkins · 4 months

Text

Flower Sniping

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

Written for an event with

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Chosen Flower: Lilies, Forever Lily

Word count: 8.1k (don't look at me like that)

Warnings: Brief mentions of war struggles and death, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, frienemies (briefly) to friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, Crosshair is somewhat bad at expressing emotions

Beta-read by @photogirl894

"So, why are you putting me on babysitting duty, Argus?" You grumble, rolling your fingers over a knot in your shoulder.

"You're one of my best agents, Lieutenant, and this is important. I need your eyes on it." Your commandant says plainly, glancing over a few things on the holotable in front of you.

You cock an eyebrow. "Seriously? The war has been going on for a year and a half. What's so important that the Republic is taking an interest in Scarif now?"

Argus rolls his eyes. "Look. I didn't ask. It's some sort of deal that the Prime Minister struck. In exchange for food and medical supplies, he's letting a single squad come and scout Western Sector 14."

"You've got to be kidding me." You scoff. "Sector 14? There's nothing out there, I would know, it's where I spent most my childhood."

"Another reason why you're the perfect person for the job." Argus says with a smirk. "You know as well as I do, Scarif has been struggling. The trade routes rarely reach all the way out here to us. If the Republic wants to send some supplies our way for showing a few tourists around, why not?"

You fold your arms across your chest. "How can I argue with something as logical as that?"

Argus lets out a chuckle. "Then get ready to play nice, they'll be here soon."

"When do I ever not play nice?" You tease back. "How long are they staying?"

"Six weeks."

A laugh escapes your lips. "The Republic better be sending the good stuff, then."

"They're some elite team, Squad 99, I think. I've been told they're one of the best." Argus retorts.

Smiling, you roll your eyes. "That's not what I meant. If they don't have a bottle of Corelian whiskey, this won't be worth it."

Argus just shakes his head at you and exits the command center. "Outside. Ten minutes."

The squad's ship touches down gently and you adjust your rifle on your shoulder slightly, sinking your weight into one hip. As much of a front as you put up for Argus, you really didn't mind this assignment. It was pretty cut and dry; serve as an escort for Squad 99 while they sniff around the western sector for a few weeks. It would give you a break from the frequent relief missions you were usually running.

Scarif hadn't seen any true action from the war so far, but the effects still reached the outer rim. Argus was right, the steady trade that once flowed from the core worlds had weakened to a trickle and now many of Scarif's provinces were riddled with conflict over the little resources the planet had left. That meant you were more often out running supplies, assisting in makeshift medical camps, or dissolving scuffles than anything else.

Your interest in this squad increases as you realize their ship is a heavily-modified Omicron-Class attack shuttle. The ramp lowers and four men stride down, coming to a stop in front of Argus. The man in front removes his helmet, revealing a mess of long dark hair pulled back by a bandana. He holds his hand out to Argus. "Commandant, I presume?"

Argus takes the man's hand. "Yes sir. Welcome to Scarif." Your commander turns and waves his spare hand to you. "This is my First Lieutenant, and the one who will be hosting you on your mission."

"Sir." The soldier acknowledges you with a curt nod. "I'm Sergeant Hunter, Galactic Army of the Republic." He looks to the man on his right, who removes his helmet to reveal striking silver hair. "This is Crosshair, our sharpshooting specialist and my right hand."

The Sergeant turns to his left, "This is Tech, engineering and data analytics." The soldier with goggles barely glances up when his sergeant claps a hand to his shoulder. "And Wrecker, weapons and demolitions." Hunter finishes, jerking a thumb behind him to the soldier towering over his comrades.

"Right. Well, good to meet you all. The command center is right this way" Argus says, turning to lead the group deeper into the yard.

"So, Lieutenant. How are the military operations going here? The Prime Minister easy to work with?" Sergeant Hunter asks you in a husky voice.

"Hm," You have to stifle a chuckle. "I wouldn't really call us a military, Sergeant. We operate as a Coalition dedicated to the service of Scarif's people. The Prime Minister has his own division of special forces for ‘keeping order.’ We work with him, not for him."

The soldier in goggles, Tech, takes a few quick steps forward to get level with your shoulder. "You use military ranks, do you not?"

Argus steps aside to let you lead the group into the Command Center. "Mainly for ease of identifying our hierarchy of command."

You gesture for the soldiers to circle the main holotable. "Argus is our main point of coordination and connection to the Prime Minister-"

"And the Lieutenant here is my first pair of boots on the ground." Argus says proudly. "You boys are in good hands."

A fond smile crosses your face at Argus' praise as you flip the holotable on, but you could swear the silver-haired sniper muttered something under his breath. Straightening up, a red pin highlights the command yard.

"Alright. We're here." You say, pointing before motioning for the map to rotate and zoom. "Western Sector 14, where you all have requested to scout, is here. The base camp will be a few hours’ ride."

"We can't just fly in?" Tech asks pointedly.

"If you want to jump out of the ship and drop in with chutes, sure.” you say, shaking your head. ��The jungle is too dense to make a landing with anything bigger than a one-man fighter anywhere near where you want to be."

Sergeant Hunter glances at his men. "Alright then. Thank you, Commandant." He says pointedly at Argus. "The first wave of supply ships will come in tomorrow."

"Fantastic, thank you." Argus replies. He moves to lead the group out the door and back out into the yard, but falters when he notices the squad's sharpshooter, Crosshair, sizing you up. "Is there a problem?" Argus asks, tentatively.

The soldier smirks, swishing a toothpick between his lips. "I just don't want to have to pull a civvy out of danger. We were told this planet was hostile."

Argus' brow furrows. "I already told you, the Lieutenant is my best agent, and you'll respect them as such-"

"No, Argus, it's fine." You cut him off, keeping eye contact with Crosshair. "If the soldier doesn't trust me, he doesn't trust me and nothing you say will change that." You take a few steps around the table to stand in front of the sniper. "By definition, yes, the planet is hostile, but they're bandits, raiders; people that have been driven to desperation. I can assure you, soldier, I've had my fair share of run-ins with them and I'm just fine." A smirk spreads across Crosshair's face and you narrow your eyes. "What?"

"You called me 'soldier,'" he responds.

You tilt your head to the side. "That's not what you are? Soldiers of the Galactic Army of the Republic?"

His comrade with the goggles, Tech steps forward. "Technically, you are correct, but not many refer to us as such."

"Well, what do they call you?" You ask, curiously.

Wrecker, the tallest soldier is the one who answers this time. "Eh... Most people just call us 'clone.'"

You run your eyes back over the squad, each of them so different from the others. "You're- you're clones?"

"You know we're GAR, but you don't know what we are?" Crosshair remarks.

"I didn't want to assume, the GAR does have a few divisions of enlisted nat-borns." You say simply with a shrug. "It’s not like you’re carbon copies of each other. Besides, it doesn’t matter how you came into this galaxy, you’re men, soldiers first before anything else."

With that, you step past the sniper and back out into the yard.

"We're packed and ready to go, Sergeant,'' you say to Hunter, gesturing to the group of gorsets standing tied nearby.

Tech adjusts his goggles. "We're using equine species?"

You shrug again, moving over to yours and stroking its face. "Only the rich can afford speeders out here. Plus, who can say no to a friend. Get your stuff loaded on the spare cart and we can head out."

Hunter leads his brothers back over to their ship and before you know it, they have their supplies all packed up.

Argus grasps your forearm just before you mount up. “Be careful, okay?”

You give him a reassuring smile, “You worry too much, Argus. My job here is easy. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

With that you slip your foot into your saddle’s stirrup and throw your leg over your gorset’s back. With a click of your tongue, it moves to the front, Hunter’s following closely behind.

The first part of the ride goes pretty smoothly. You make small talk with the soldiers, or three of them, at least. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker regale you with stories of their life and training as soldiers of the Republic and in return, you tell them your story as a nat-born.

About an hour in, you come to a stop at a stream and let your mounts rest. You watch intently as the four brothers, take in their surroundings. You’ve always liked Scarif. You’d certainly seen a few other planets in your line of work, but Scarif and its dense forests always meant home. Crosshair settles on a fallen log while Hunter checks over their gear on the carts and Wrecker begins making friends with the gorsets. Tech, however, is wandering around with his face buried in his datapad.

“Find anything interesting?” You say, approaching him.

He looks up at you, his wide inquisitive brown eyes filled with excitement. “All the flora on this planet is fascinating. So many native species are unique to this biome. Of course, I researched them before our arrival, but to get to document them personally is a wonderful opportunity.”

You smile at his curiosity. The clones’ homeworld, Kamino, probably left much to be desired. “Those ones are my favorite,” you say, motioning your chin towards some striking burgundy-orange blooms nestled in the undergrowth.

“Ah yes,” Tech remarks. “Liliaceae Lilium Asiata. A fairly ordinary species though, not that remarkable.”

You smile. “Their common name here is the ‘forever lily’ and while they’re not a rare species, they are special.”

“What makes them so special?” Wrecker asks loudly.

“Here on Scarif, they’re often given as a sign of admiration or partnership. They bloom in early summer and also represent new beginnings. My father actually gifted my mother one when he asked her to dinner for the first time.”

“That’s…actually quite romantic,” Tech replies.

“And obviously it went well,” Hunter adds.

A laugh escapes your lips. “Oh no, the date apparently went horribly wrong. My father made a complete fool of himself and accidentally tripped, knocking my mother into the fountain in the center of the village. There were probably thirty witnesses to the whole thing. My father’s family never let him live it down. When he asked my mother for a second chance, he brought two lilies. For their third date, he brought three. By the time they got married, he decorated the entire gathering hall with them.”

Crosshair hops up off his perch. “So why are you out here and not with them picking flowers, sweetheart?” He jeers.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “They’re dead.”

Crosshair stiffens at your response, but doesn’t retort. His brothers look at you with wide eyes.

“Bandit raid,” you say plainly. “I was seventeen. Took less than a day for our village to be cleared out. Those who tried to hide food or resist were laid out in the street. A number of us survived and we made our way to the capital for refuge. That’s where I met Argus, and he gave me a chance to do more with my life.”

Silence settles among you, the brothers unsure of what to say.

You clear your throat, breaking their stupor. “Ready to move out?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Hunter says, jerking his head at his brothers.

As you swing your leg over and settle into your saddle, Hunter catches your eye. “The color. I like it.”

A soft smile crosses your face. “Thanks. I do too.”

Once again, you take the lead, but this time your group travels in silence. The next couple hours are uneventful. Occasionally, Tech or Wrecker would point something out and you’d give a few words on it. A couple times, Hunter called for the group to stop, and you reassured him whatever noise he heard was probably just a kybuck. ‘Bandits haven’t been spotted in this sector for years.’

As you round a bend in the trail, your mount slows out of instinct. You can hear Tech mutter under his breath when the old buildings make their appearance.

“Fascinating… Did you know this was here?” he asks.

You glance around at the familiar ruins of your past life. “This used to be my home.”

You pull your mount to a halt outside the largest building. “And it will be our base camp for the duration of your stay here.”

“Do you come back often?” Wrecker asks hesitantly.

“Mm-hmm,” you answer as you dismount. “Once every few moons. It’s quite peaceful out here.”

Crosshair’s brow furrows. According to your story, you all are currently standing at the center of the greatest tragedy of your life. He’s drawn to ask about your response, but his twin beats him to it.

“You said raiders destroyed your village, yet you continue to return. That’s very brave.”

You smile at Tech’s words, pulling your bags off your gorset. “I wouldn’t say brave. It took me a while to be able to come back, but look at this place,” you say, gesturing to the buildings overgrown with flora. “You can’t even see the scars of the raid any more. No people, no conflict, no pain. With a little bit of time, nature came back and healed, same as I did.”

Your response hits Crosshair in a peculiar way, but if you had asked him to describe it, he wouldn’t have had the words. Instead, he moves over beside you and gently takes a few bags from your shoulders before moving inside.

The next few weeks pass with little fuss. The boys tend to leave at 0700 to go about their scouting missions and return around 1800 for dinner. Every few days, you’ll go along to lead them to a new part of the sector or provide information on the area. Most days you’re left to your own devices. You spent your first few free days setting a trap line along you r well-known foraging routes. Hunter had protested your hunting and gathering. He tried to explain they had brought enough GAR rations for everyone, but you were happy enough to prepare warm meals for the team.

It didn’t take them long to crumble to your mouth-watering camp cooking, leaving the rations to be quick dinner solutions after long days. Hunter offered his talents once or twice to help you get a nice score, or Wrecker would help haul firewood back to camp. Tech even provided you with some new recipes you fused with Scarif-style dishes.

Hunter took quickly to you, as did Tech and Wrecker, but the fourth member of the team always kept his distance. Any words exchanged between the two of you were more often than not snarky comments. Hunter would chastise him for it, tell him to stow the attitude, but you knew Crosshair didn’t mean it. And it’s not like you didn’t dish it back.

On this particular day, you were on your own. Crosshair had been particularly grouchy the last couple rotations, so Hunter had benched him for the day. Crosshair’s excuse had been a migraine, so you left him sleeping at base camp with a blanket gently draped over him and a canteen of water within reach when you started out on your own hike.

It doesn’t take long to reach your shooting range. Your sniper’s roost is up on the crest of a hill that looks over a small hollow. Wooden targets are scattered from the undergrowth up into the branches of the dense forest around you.

After taking a few practice shots in a crouched position, you lower yourself down onto your stomach. Just as you shift your weight onto your side to pull an extra mag out of your belt pocket, something catches your ear. A twig snapping, and it was from something much bigger than a kybuck.

You freeze, waiting. After a couple seconds, you start creeping your hand down your thigh and gently grasp one of the throwing knives strapped there. The wind changes and something hits your nose, a scent - the camp soap. Smirking, you roll back onto your stomach like normal, keeping the knife tucked underneath you. You act like you're checking over your rifle, still intently listening. A couple seconds more and another twig snaps. Fast as lightning you roll over and send the knife flying. It buries itself into a tree - right next to his head.

“Are you karking crazy?!”

You sit up, a cheeky smile on your face. “That’s what you get, trying to sneak up on me, soldier.”

He rolls his eyes. “You did pretty good, sweetheart, but Hunter would’ve noticed sooner.”

“Hunter has been engineered with enhanced senses, that’s cheating,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off yourself. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “I would’ve noticed sooner.”

You smirk. “You are also enhanced, that’s still cheating. When do you think I noticed?”

“Right before you threw the knife, when I snapped that twig on purpose,” he says, crossing his arms. “They’re stashed in your chestplate, you acted on instinct.”

“Wrong. I heard you when you stepped on that first twig, but I knew it was you when I smelled the camp soap. Very distinct,” you say with a wink.

Crosshair gives you a look, maybe one of awe, but he glosses over the moment, looking out onto the shooting range. “What is this place?”

“A shooting range. Never seen one of those, Crosshair?” You tease back, bending down to pick up your rifle..

He scoffs.

“My father built it and taught me to shoot here,” you explain. “Part of the reason why I come back every so often. Here the rest of the world just melts away.”

Crosshair steps closer to the crest of the hill. “Where are the targets?”

Gently, you heft your rifle up off the ground and hold it out to him. “Have a look.”

He hesitates. “Oh no, I-” Crosshair knows a sniper’s rifle is sacred. In the similar way as the Jedi and their lightsabers.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I trust you.”

Crosshair’s eyes stay latched to yours as he gingerly lets you place your rifle in his waiting hands. “Not as fancy as your firepuncher, but I've made a few modifications,” you say proudly.

Crosshair turns your weapon over in his hands with a sense of reverence before taking his stance. His form is perfect, though that’s no surprise. Hunter and the others had told you all about their enhancements. You watch as Crosshair sweeps the scope over the range, taking inventory of the targets camouflaged in the greenery. One particular mark catches his eye.

“That one down there, how do you get to it?” He asks, pointing to one suspended in a tree and swaying gently in the wind.

You smile, that target in particular is placed at an odd angle relative to the sniper’s nest. “Take the shot and you’ll see.”

The sniper braces in his standing position and lets a blaster bolt fly. He nearly growls in frustration when the bolt barely hits the edge of the target. “What the-”

“Good shot,” you say, impressed.

“That’s not the center.” Crosshair sneers, lowering your rifle.

“You still hit it. I don’t think anyone else could have made it at that angle,” you reply.

“You show me then if you’re so good, sweetheart.”

Paying no mind to his snappy remark, you take your weapon back from him and lower into your crouched position. You center your sights on the target in question and wait a moment for it to stop bouncing as much. Once you’ve got its steady bouncing rhythm down, you move to focus on a shiny chunk of quartz sticking out of the hillside. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Your shot flies perfectly, hitting the quartz and ricochetting up into the dead center of the target. You look up at the Crosshair, making no effort to try to hide the smug look on your face.

“Tricky girl,” he says, his eyes narrowing.

“Got to consider all the angles,” you tease as you straighten back up.

Crosshair reaches to his belt and holds up a couple shiny discs. “I prefer these.”

“Smart,” you respond, shifting your weight into one hip. “And yet you still took the straight-on approach.”

He smirks at you as you stand up. “Thought it’d be best to be direct with you.”

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“I don’t get you,” he says plainly.

Your brow scrunches as you lean your rifle against a nearby tree. “What’s there to get?”

“Everything about you.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his silver hair. “I saw you when those scavengers came up on us scouting last week. You stared down the barrel of their weapons and tried to negotiate our way out. Then when they turned, you didn’t even flinch. You’re a good hunter, you’ve been feeding us this entire trip; yet you cleaned the wound on that kybuck’s flank and let it go instead of taking the easy score. Even with me, I- I can’t figure you out, nothing gets to you.”

It takes you a second to realize that’s the most words Crosshair has ever spoken to you, and they didn’t even come with a childish jab. You just shrug. “I learned it's best to make the most you can with what you’ve got. I try to give everyone a chance, no matter how we meet and I don’t take more than what I need. I don’t have time to let things get to me; there are much more important, more worthwhile things to be taken care of. And if I can’t let something go, I bring it here,” you finish, glancing out at your shooting range.

Crosshair looks you up and down a couple times, then turns his back to you to face the range. Then he speaks, so softly you barely catch it, “Do you mind if I let some things go here?”

A soft smile crosses your face. “Of course. Here.” You reach back over and hold your rifle out to him, which he takes without looking at you.

You can see his muscles shift as he lowers himself to the ground. Not wanting to intrude, you take a few steps back up the trail.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, uh I was just going to go get some water from the stream, check my snares,” you respond, covering your true intentions.

“You won’t have your rifle,” Crosshair mutters.

“I have my side arm, I’ll be fine,” you reassure him.

A soft sigh drifts from his figure laying on the forest floor. “Please… stay. I can check the snares with you later.”

You try to hide your smile as you gently lower yourself to the ground, resting your back against a tree as Crosshair brings the scope of your rifle into position. And there you stay.

At first, Crosshair doesn’t say much. He just takes his shots at your range, adjusting things here and there. After a while, you lean your head against the tree trunk behind you and let your eyes close. The sun is filtering through the trees as it rises higher in the sky, and birds are softly chirping. It’s peaceful, like always, and the rhythmic pattern of Crosshair’s shots roll through the forest like a heartbeat.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear him shift.

“Here.”

Straightening up, you open your eyes and see he’s sitting cross legged, holding your rifle out.

You take it back from him and move to stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, still sitting on the ground.

You tilt your head at him, for him saying he couldn’t figure you out, he seems to be the odd one. “The snares?”

“It’s your turn to shoot.”

“Oh it’s fine,” you say, waving your hand.

You shift your weight again to stand, but this time Crosshair reaches out and grasps your bracer. “That’s what you were coming out here to do anyway, right? I interrupted you.”

His words are so different from the ones that normally pass between the two of you. Not gentle, necessarily, but less defensive. You take a breath before nodding your head, just barely. Crosshair scoots out of your way. If you weren’t so focused on making the space between you a place where he could be open, you might have giggled at the way he moved, still in his cross-legged position.

You slowly lower yourself onto your belly and bring your scope to your eye. Crosshair had adjusted things slightly, but strangely you didn’t mind. Usually it would irk you if someone had moved things on your rifle, but you had handed him your weapon of your own volition. It was nice to know that he felt so comfortable with you and had handled your rifle with such care and reverence. You take a few shots, aiming at various targets over the range.

As you sit up to replace the mag, you notice Crosshair is studying you intently. You smile. “What?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re a skilled sharpshooter. You even pace with your breath, impressive.”

You rock back on your heels. “Took me some time to get it, but practice makes perfect.”

Crosshair smirks at you, but not unkindly. “And that you are, nearly. Perfect- I mean…” He trails off. Again, You might have giggled at this newfound temperament, but you simply dust off your rifle a bit.

“Oh yeah? Got any pointers for me?” you reply.

The sniper moves closer to you. “If you’ll actually listen,” he jabs.

You chuckle. “I’m always listening.”

He gestures for you to take your prone position again and makes a few adjustments to your limbs. The time flies away from you as the two of you pass your rifle back and forth along with small conversation and stories. Crosshair doesn’t exactly soften, but he does open up to you a bit more.

In giving you some pointers, he’s the most comfortable you’ve seen him the whole mission. Instruction and leadership are clearly his elements. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, continuously checking in that the adjustments he makes feel correct for your body.

‘Every marksman is different.’ He had said. ‘Even if it’s the ‘correct’ way, if it doesn’t feel natural for you, then you’ll be tense or unstable and then it’s all pointless.’

You learn more than just that. Before you know it, Crosshair is telling you about his brothers, more than even Tech had told you. ‘Hunter’s helmet is specially modified to dampen his senses when needed.’ - ‘Although Tech is the smartest at basically everything, Wrecker beats him with weapons and explosives.’ - ‘Tech and I came from the same tube.’ - ‘Wrecker can tell you every ingredient in a ration pack just by tasting it.’

Some facts surprise you, like the fact that while Hunter has enhanced eyesight across the whole spectrum, Crosshair is actually farsighted and he has his holopad on the biggest text size to avoid wearing the reading glasses Tech made him. Other facts aren’t as much of a surprise, like the scar on Hunter’s chin was a gift from Crosshair when they were roughhousing as cadets.

Crosshair even tells you what it was like growing up as ‘special’ clones on Kamino. ‘Clones are outsiders among the nat-borns of the galaxy. We were outsiders even among the clones.’ - ‘The advanced growth rate meant that for a few years from bio age 7-18 our joints always hurt. The bumps and bruises from training just blended it all together.’

You had no idea Crosshair could be so much of a talker, and he even chuckles a few times at his own stories or your side remarks. The conversation was far from annoying, though. You sat and listened intently, basking in his sudden willingness to share. Without warning, your chrono beeps, cutting one of his sentences short. You glance down and gasp at the time.

“Everything okay?” Crosshair asks, his brow furrowing.

“We’ve been here all day.” You say. “We have to hurry if we’re going to walk the traps and get back to camp to meet the others.”

Crosshair shoots to his feet, his jaw tense.

Guilt settles in your stomach. “I’m sorry.” You look up at him, but he refuses to meet your eyes. “I was enjoying it here, but-”

“We have to go.” He says in a gruff voice. The walls are back up.

You solemnly gather your gear and the two of you walk your snare lines in silence. You’re tempted to respark the conversation you two had been sharing, but you can tell the moment is lost, and pushing would be futile.

When you arrive back at base camp, the others are already milling about preparing the dinner rations. Hunter glances between you and Crosshair as you enter the camp, but says nothing. Not even when he notices Crosshair is the one carrying the score from your traps.

Dinner is served as normal, but Crosshair takes his into the building serving as your bunk house rather than eating around the fire with the rest of you. You try to keep that sinking feeling out of your stomach to no avail. Had you pushed him? He was opening up to you, being receptive. Why did your chrono have to bring you crashing back to reality?

Your thoughts continue to swirl in your head as you wash up after dinner and you barely notice when Hunter appears beside you at the basin.

“You okay?” He mutters, picking up a dish and swirling it in the water.

“Mm, yeah,” you mutter.

A chuckle rumbles deep in Hunter’s chest. “I saw you two today.”

You can feel the Sergeant’s implication pressing in on you. “Oh yeah, he just got bored and wanted something to do.”

Hunter shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. He likes you.”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you jab back, shoving the memory of your day at the range deep into the back of your mind.

“He’s just...” Hunter sighs. “Figuring it out on his own terms. He takes patience. You’ve been doing well so far, just hold out a little longer and he’ll open up to you.”

‘He was…’ You think to yourself. Instead you finish wiping the last dish and flick the water off your hands. “Well I don’t have forever,” you say shortly, turning to walk into the bunks.

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you turn the corner to your room and your breath catches in your throat. On your bed lies a single item.

A bright orange and maroon lily.

After that day at your shooting range, little changes in your interactions with Crosshair. His snarky comments return, but his demeanor towards you does begin to shift. His morning jab was now accompanied by a cup of caf complete with a splash of milk, just the way you liked it. His hand was now the first to reach out when unloading gear to lighten your load, though it still came with some iteration of a sly ‘sweetheart’. There was even a time you had fallen asleep by the campfire and you woke with a blanket draped over you. Hunter swore up and down that Crosshair had been the last one to bed that night.

With two weeks left in the squad’s mission, you make your way to the range alone, lost in thought. At 0400, your comm had beeped with a message from Argus: you would be immediately moving on to your next assignment upon your return to the Coalition Command Base. A scuffle on Scarif’s opposite pole needed your attention, and reportedly the territory was still severely hostile.

Though you didn’t want to admit it, your time hosting Squad 99 had been little short of a vacation. Just last night, Hunter had pulled you aside and offered you a spot on the team as a ‘Civilian Consultant.’

‘Even though we’re supposed to be a clone squad, it’s a way of skirting the rules.’ He had said with a wink. ‘It wouldn’t pay much, but you’d be taken care of.’

You had told him you’d think about it, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Scarif. Your people need you. As your thoughts tumble in your head, you nearly step on something as you break the treeline into your sniper’s nest. Not something - someone.

“You’re very observant today,” Crosshair groans as he stands up.

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head trying to clear it.

Crosshair looks down at you, his brow furrowed. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “What is it?”

The moment your eyes meet his, the words start tumbling from your mouth. You tell him everything. The comm from Argus that arrived before the boys rose that morning. The stress that’s been on your shoulders as the First Lieutenant of the Coalition.

You tell him about the pit in your stomach that grows every time you see a starving child, or a family ripped apart by raiders. Even about the pity you feel for the dying light in the eyes of bandits you arrest. How your homeworld was dying and there was little you could do about it.

You find yourself telling him about Hunter’s offer, and your temptation to take it. How the allure of staying with the squad you’d grown fond of was near irresistible, but the guilt at your eagerness to leave your homeworld behind was clawing at your chest.

Before you know it your breath is rising in your throat, your pulse quickening, your head beginning to spin, when suddenly your world becomes dark. It takes you a second to realize that you didn’t pass out, but your face is pressed to something… warm. Something solid and stable.

The scent of the camp soap surrounds you as Crosshair presses you to his chest, one arm curling around you, the other cradling the back of your head. Your breathing begins to steady and your heartbeat slows to match the steady beating of his heart under your cheek.

After a while you find it in yourself to mutter “Cross-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, ruffling your hair slightly. “Don’t speak, just breathe for a second.”

Another couple minutes like that and you feel your body begin to relax. Crosshair releases you from his grip and you feel your weight on your own two feet again. Again you try to speak. “I’m so-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” He cuts you off again. “You have a lot going on and a lot to think about. Let the rest of the galaxy melt away for a bit. That’s why you’re here, right?” He says with a smirk.

You let out a breath. “I suppose.” Then you realize. “Hey, speaking of - what are you doing here?”

Crosshair rubs the back of his neck. “Ehh. Needed some time to think?”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

He just shrugs. “I’ve never been… good with talking.”

You smile but take a step back from him. “You don’t have to be. We don’t have to talk at all.” You say, your words gentle.

Crosshair’s deep honey eyes look down at you. “The thing is… I want to. I just don’t…” He sighs, then leans over to pull something from his pack laying nearby. “Here.”

You look down at what he’s trying to hand you. It’s two maroon and orange lilies. Their bright colors stand out against his dark gear. You take them from him, delicately and look back up. His eyes are searching your face for any sign of caution.

His shoulders relax with relief when you take one of the flowers and tuck it behind your ear. “How’s the practice going?” you ask with a smile.

Crosshair’s face brightens a bit at the mention of sharpshooting. “Good. I was hoping you would be here today. I wanted to show you something new.”

Gingerly, he takes one of your hands in his and eases your rifle off your shoulder. Rather than handing you your weapon, however, he leans it up against a nearby tree.

“Cross, what-”

“Shh” He hushes you gently, taking the second lily from your other hand and dropping the stem into the barrel of your rifle. He guides you over to the sniper’s ridge and picks his own weapon up off the ground. “Here.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what his intentions are. He’s giving you his firepuncher.

Ever so carefully, you let him release his prized rifle into your grip. “Hmm,” you hum as your hands dip with its weight. “I assumed it would be heavy but… wow.”

“Start on the ground, then we’ll work you up to standing.” Crosshair says, his voice steady. “Adjust the scope how you need it.”

You get settled and with him crouched beside you, you bring the scope up to your view. The sounds of the forest start to melt away as you zone in on a target.

A little puff of air hits your ear as Crosshair leans close. "Be prepared for the recoil," he mutters in a low voice. "It’s strong, but don’t fight it. Whenever you’re ready."

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The blaster bolt is nearly silent as it flies home to the center of the target.

There your day melts away again as you and Crosshair pass a weapon back and forth. Fewer words accompany his rifle, but it feels as though more is said.

The last two weeks of Squad 99’s mission pass uneventfully, but there is another shift. There’s a shift in how Crosshair treats you. After your first day at the range, he had warmed more to you, but now he’s like a tooka always at your heels. He’s not overbearing, just always present.

You’re catching yourself smiling at his little quirks more and more. The way he can fall asleep almost anywhere, curled up in a tight ball. The way he claims he drinks his caf black, but you spot him sneaking sugar into it out of the corner of your eye. The way he’s always watching, even if his back is to you.

He also seems more physically drawn to you. Of course, he never crosses a line, but in subtle ways. He tends to brush against you more when moving about your daily routines. His hands seem to linger on your body when adjusting your sniping form, and you could feel the heat of his palm on your lower back when he steadied you after you stumbled on a trail. His voice seems to drop and soften when he speaks to you, he nearly sounds like Hunter - it’s definitely genetic.

Of course Hunter noticed too. After your second day with Crosshair at the shooting range, Hunter had pulled you aside again. You expected an ‘older brother talking to’ where he either would grill you about your intentions or warn you to stay away, but the first words out of Hunter’s mouth had shocked you.

“You’re good for him, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?” You had instinctively said back.

Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew it was a gesture of his affection. “You’re good for him. With you, he can just exist.”

“You’re imagining things, Hunter.”

“I promise you I’m not. I know he can be difficult, but it’s not because he’s apathetic. It’s just a challenge for him to put words to what’s going on in that head of his.”

“There are more ways to understand someone than with words.”

Hunter laughed at your remark. “Like I said, you’re a good match for him. In more ways than one.”

Hunter left the conversation at that. He didn’t push, but he would tease you under his breath about it. You hated to admit it, but Hunter was right, you had grown soft on the sniper and you would come to see the effect you had on him. His shoulders were less tense, his brow furrowed less, he turned his face to the sun more. Maybe there was something growing between you and him, maybe it was something worth exploring.

‘Karking Siths Hells. Collect yourself, woman.’ You scold yourself. You shake your head to clear your thoughts as your gorset moves around a group of trees.

Here you are. The day had finally come for Clone Force 99 to ship back out. You didn’t want to admit it but it was hitting you harder than you thought it would. You were trying to keep that armor up, but you were sadly failing.

When you reach the Coalition’s Command Base, the brothers immediately start moving their things back to their ship. Sadly, Argus had been called to the Capital so he wasn’t there to welcome you back. As you helped the brothers repack, each made sure to say their goodbyes.

Tech held his hand out, and you moved to return the handshake. Instead you found him grasping your forearm in a much more meaningful gesture. “It’s a physical form of farewell from our mother culture of Mandalore. It’s a symbol of respect and honor. You have been a wonderful host, and I will miss your company. You do not know how much it means that you not only answered my questions but returned them with some of your own.”

Wrecker was next. Your hands seemed to dance in the intricate handshake you two had created. “I’ll miss having ya around!” He boomed. “I think you ruined the ration packs for me forever with your camp cooking. And Lieutenant? Thank you, for seeing us as more than clones, it’s been refreshing.”

Hunter pulled you into a tight hug like many times before. “I know I don’t need to say it, but take care of yourself. Keep in touch, I need someone to chat with that hasn’t thrown up on me.”

This made you laugh for the first time today. “That could be arranged,” you tease back.

Before Hunter replies he looks at something behind you. Turning around you see it’s Crosshair walking towards you. You meet him halfway, searching his face for any sign of what mood he’s in.

“Where did you disappear off to?” You ask trying to ease into a goodbye.

“Nowhere important.” He curtly replies, shoving his helmet on his head.

You bite your lip. “Okay… Best of luck, Crosshair. Stay safe out there.”

“You too.” He holds his hand out, but unlike Tech he just gives you a simple, firm handshake. Only he doesn’t let go.

You want to say something, but what would be the right thing? The two of you always seemed to communicate through actions more than words. There you two stand for a moment, awkwardly holding your handshake, and your eyes drift for a moment.

When you look back at Crosshair he’s moving. Before you can register what’s happening his helmet is smacking you on the forehead, causing you to cry out and clap a hand to the sore spot.

Did he just headbutt you? Or was he trying to kiss you and forgot his helmet was on?

He lets go of your hand like he was shocked, standing straight as a pole. “I uh… I’ve got to go. Keep practicing, stay alive.”

Without another word he walks, more like runs, away from you and up the Marauder’s ramp.

Hunter appears at your side obviously trying to contain his laughter. “That was interesting.”

“What exactly just happened?” You grumble, rubbing your forehead.

“A very Crosshair farewell.” Hunter sighs. “Look, I know that we aren’t exactly built for relationships or even plain friendships outside of the GAR, but… don’t be a stranger. We’ve all come to like you and Crosshair, he won’t say it anytime soon, but he needs you.”

Hunter squeezes your shoulder and jogs up the Marauder’s ramp, leaving you standing alone in the ship yard.

Sighing and shaking your head, you turn and walk to the Command Center to gather the intel for your new deployment. After sitting through a painfully redundant briefing meeting with a couple squadron leaders with sticks up their asses, you stop by the cantina for dinner. The food weighs heavy on your tongue like glue. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as beans and rice Scarif stir fry around a campfire with a choice four troopers.

The supply depot is your next stop to restock your personal supplies and check that your shuttle was loaded correctly. You still have a half hour before your crew is due for deployment, so you head over to the base stables to see a friend.

Your gorset has his nose on the ground of his stall, snuffling around for remnants of his evening grain, but he raises his head at the sound of your footsteps.

“Hey there, boy.” You coo softly at him. “What are we gonna do, huh?”

As you scratch behind his ear, your gorset turns his head for you to get to the other side and a gasp leaves your lips when you see his mane.

Woven into your gorset’s thick locks are three bright orange lilies.

Your back aches as you make the hike from the ruins to your range. Your last assignment had been far from comfortable. The relief mission was supposed to be non combative, just transport of supplies and giving aid to the rebuilding effort in Northern Sector 7, but of course you weren’t that lucky. A band of storms blew through while you were there, sending refugees into the town you were based in.

Your forces were already spread thin and the influx of people hadn’t helped. Then of course the raiders came. You were able to deescalate the situation the first time they showed up, but the second time they stormed the town with ballistics. The stockpile was pretty depleted at that point so at the very least the Coalition didn’t lose much.

Argus had taken pity on you and said you had a week before he’d even think about shipping you out again, so you decided to go home for a few days. You hadn’t been back in months, much longer than usual, not since them.

The peaceful ruins of your village had felt emptier that morning when you’d arrived. You half-expected Wrecker to come barreling through the brush asking about dinner, or for Tech to appear beside you with some obscure question about your home world.

You had to admit you did miss Hunter, he had his way of knowing what was going on with you without even asking. Though the temptation was there to take his offer and join the squad, you just couldn’t leave Scarif and her people. Hunter didn’t blame you though, he knew the pressure you were under as the Coalition’s First Lieutenant. Who would’ve done the job if you left?

You had exchanged comm frequencies with Hunter, but hadn’t heard anything from them, about anything. Not that you were expecting to. The fourth member of Squad 99 lingered on your mind more than the others, but it’s not like you were pining after him.

Crosshair had made you no promises, nor had you him. You just wondered where he was, what his missions were. You wondered if he was okay, not just physically, but under the armor he put up around himself.

The sun is already high in the sky when you reach your range. You take a couple minutes to go over your rifle, then take your standing position.

Your sore muscles shift as you bring your rifle up to your view and set the barrel on the rest you added to your shoulder plate. You sweep the range, checking the status of your targets, but stutter when you notice something nestled in the foliage.

A bright orange lily.

Shaking your head, you keep sweeping the range, then you spot another lily. Then another, and another. Your mouth drops open as you lower your weapon. It couldn't be, could it?

The undergrowth behind you rustles and you know it’s him before he speaks. "Good to see you're practicing. We need you again. I need you again."

#cloneflowerficevent #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair #bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb #bad batch #the bad batch #ct 9904 #crosshair bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #crosshair tbb #forever lilies #lilies

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tossawary · 4 months

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This is a very niche fic idea that I have no solid intention of actually writing, but... "Naruto" has more than a few self-insert fics and some of them are transmigrations into canon characters. Some of them are about OCs who do not want to be a ninja and are desperately trying to get out of it. There's usually some deliciously frustrating tragedy and horror about the brutal and inescapable military system of Konoha.

So, I thought that it would be kind of interesting to do an OC-insert into Sasuke, probably ultimately more comedic than angsty, as the OC tries to fail out of having to become a ninja, but then has to struggle against the fact that a civilian Sasuke would probably be expected to start a new Uchiha clan ASAP. (They probably have to concede to at least becoming a genin for the benefits of legal adulthood of some kind at 12 years old, even if it means being a part of the damn military.)

But even if the OC would personally love to be a parent someday, they cannot condone participating in what's essentially a breeding program for a new generation of Sharingan-wielding super-soldiers. Children who are probably going to be chewed up and spat out by Konoha someday too.

I think it would be neat to have a character treat the Sharingan like a genetic disorder that they don't want a child to suffer. I think it would have been interesting if canon Sasuke had also wrestled with the idea of letting the Sharingan die out. Fuck it, he'll adopt if he wants to be a dad someday. I also think it would be funny to have an OC-insert whose goal is to get a secret vasectomy (body autonomy!) without the leadership of Konoha finding out.

Sasuke, as soon as Sakura becomes a medical nin: "I need you to do me a huge secret favor and NOT be weird about it."

Sakura, also still currently a teenager: "You're asking me to CASTRATE YOU, AT HOME, IN SECRET, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO NOT BE WEIRD ABOUT THIS?!"

(And there's the whole fucking issue of the "Naruto" universe having cloning, so, no, a vasectomy isn't a solid guarantee of getting out of this. But it might buy Sasuke a few years to figure out how to avoid the mad science route too if anyone tries to force marriage on him at any point.)

Even throwing aside the issue of children, even in an AU where the OC-Insert is cool with having bio children, I think it would be really funny to have a Transmigrator Sasuke announcing outright in the first Team 7 meeting that his dream is to retire super early and become a shinobi tradwife to a super strong ninja.

Kakashi: "...What?"

Sasuke, possibly talking out of his ass to troll his team and because he's already spitefully exhausted: "I said what I said. I'm the only Uchiha left to pass on my clan's techniques, so my dream is to be a stay-at-home ninja, supported by a super strong spouse who can protect my family."

I think this would break Naruto and Sakura's brains. ("Marry Hokage Naruto" is not the worst plan that a transmigrator could come up with, probably.) I think that this would be a super funny start to a Team 7 OT3 in which Naruto and Sakura become rivals for the position of Sasuke's shinobi sugar daddy/mommy. (Naruto doesn't consciously realize that he's competing for Sasuke's hand in marriage at first, but he gets it after a few years or so.)

Kakashi is... So Tired. Obito, are you seeing this shit??? What the fuck.

I know some OC-insert / SI-insert into Sasuke fics exist, I just think the funniest plot direction for a transmigrator in this situation would be to completely bail on both the "take revenge on Itachi" and "rebuild the Uchiha clan" dreams in the least macho ways available.

Also, what WOULD Itachi think of Sasuke abruptly deciding to give up on revenge and to become a house husband instead?

#tossawary naruto #fic ideas #uchiha sasuke #house husband sasuke au

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actual-changeling · 9 months

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A small 'this is how you use tumblr' for the people that haven't been here very long. These are in no particular order, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask them!

Since I probably did not mention a lot of things, you are welcome to add to this post with your own advice.

a) Reblog posts. if you like it, reblog it. even if you have zero followers and ESPECIALLY if it's art or writing of any kind. We will see the reblog in our notifications and that alone brings joy. One reblog can start a chain and push the post onto many people's dashes.

b) Tumblr is not a very functional website, if you want to survive without losing your mind, there are two things you need: xkit rewritten and dashboard unfucker. Play around with the settings until it is to your liking. Additionally, change to firefox if you haven't already and install ublock origin to get rid of ads, tracking etc.

c) If you go to your settings (account! not blog) you can find this under dashboard at the bottom. Turn off at the very least 'best stuff first' since that will fuck up your dash and not give you posts in chronological order.

The rest are a perfonal preference but it will keep your dash tidy and easy to control if you turn them off, too.

d) Apropos settings—get a profile picture, a header, write something human in your bio, anything. Otherwise people will assume you are a bot and block you on sight.

e) Blocking! Do it generously and whenever you want, this is how you keep whatever remains of your sanity. It's not a lethal offense, it is (usually) not even seen as rude or anything along those lines. You block people and they block you and everyone is happy.

f) Under account settings you will find this:

Just like with blocking, use both options to your heart's content.

g) Tumblr is not like other social media platforms, spam liking & reblogging and going three years deep into someone's account is NORMAL and encouraged. You can search a blog by post type, tags, or even go to the archive and scroll through the posts there.

h) Lastly—interaction. We already went over reblogging (I mean it, REBLOG), but there are also replies and asks. If you add something to someone else's post please behave like a kind human being and don't be an asshole; based on my experience, that's easier said than done. On top of that, the tags are ALSO used for communication, go unhinged, ramble, leave your thoughts, or simply use them for organisational purposes. Everyone loves a good insane tag wall.

An open inbox (either anonymously or with your blog attached) is to be used! Please send people asks if they have them active, use it like DMs or a comment section, use it to recommend something, ask questions, participate in an ask or prompt game—we love asks here.

(We do not like harassment in our inboxes, same rules as above.)

#alex yells at the void #tumblr culture #fandom culture #tumblr in a nutshell #how tf do I tag this. anyway #i know a lot of new people followed me after good omens 2 and still are #so this is for y'all!

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xanasaurusrex · 9 months

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I was wondering if you would write Clarisse larue x daughter of Hecate headcannons??

⇢ ˗ˏˋ clarisse la rue x hecate!daughter ࿐ྂ

a/n: okay so there is a full fledged fic coming of this but i just thought this would be cute for some general clarisse x hecate!daughter!reader content bc i love writing headcanons

okay so first thing's first, this pairing is the definition of opposite's attract

clarisse is just such an intense person, and hecate kiddos are like, famously chill

you probably fell for clarisse first, from afar, because hecate kids and ares kids don't generally run in the same circles

like there's no bad blood or anything, they just aren't very alike so they don't usually hangout

once clarisse did notice you, the two of you started hanging out pretty frequently

there was a period where you both had heart eyes whenever you were near each other, but were both convinced that the other would never like one, and so you were both just practically prancing around each other, doing your best to hide your feelings

(and not really succeeding)

this period was pretty much hell for all of your friends

because the two of you would rave to your mutual friends when the other wasn't there about how much you like each other, and they would just have to sit there and internally scream and hope that you two get together soon

you probably found out when someone accidentally let it slip that you two like each other

after a very long, heartfelt conversation, the two of you were officially dating!

now for the dynamic of your relationship!

clarisse is extremely protective over you

if anyone even looks at you wrong, she's there defending you

you find this really romantic, but sometimes it can get overwhelming because you don't love confrontation, and she does, so sometimes you just want her to leave the situation alone

she can usually tell when you're in this mood, so the two of you just leave the situation before clarisse can get more heated

you're one of the only people that can really calm clarisse down

as previously aforementioned, she's a very intense person, and gets really intense emotions that she doesn't really know how to deal with them, which is something you can help with

just being in your presence calms clarisse down

going back to the protectiveness thing randomly, clarisse always makes sure that hecate cabin is on the same team as ares cabin, and even though everyone knows it's so she can protect you, everyone pretends they don't know

hecate kids obviously participate in capture the flag but they're not the most helpful

so you're not all that bothered when clarisse takes you to a nice, safe place in the woods where she hunts around you to make sure that nobody gets close to you

one time someone from the blue team managed to snag you as a prisoner for the red team, and when clarisse found out she went on a literal rampage

chiron had to step in and tell clarisse to calm down

when blue team finally released you, clarisse just held onto your hand with a really angry look on her face

when you two were alone she finally expressed how nervous she'd been

another big thing to mention: you are clarisse's biggest weakness

she loves and cares about you so much, and as much as she tries to hide it, she kinda can't, so she knows that if anyone were ever trying to get to her, they would go to you first, and she really hates that

there was a time in the beginning of your relationship when clarisse tried to break it off, saying that it wouldn't be safe

and you reminded her that you are also a demigod, and just existing as a demigod isn't safe, so she'd better just get over it

she did, and now the two of you are still together and happy!

clarisse tries to pretend like she has some independence from you, but everyone knows that she doesn't

clarisse gets even more irritable during the winter months because she can't see you everyday like she can during the summer when you're both at camp

clarisse is a year rounder camper, but you aren't, so she always tries to get you to come back for weekends and school breaks

you're always giving clarisse different crystals to help with different things

one of the first things you gave her was a rose quartz necklace, and she practically never takes it off

she rarely ever takes it out from under her shirt because again, she's paranoid about the whole thing of you being her biggest weakness

but it's always there, and she sometimes can be seen holding tightly to it when in tense situations and/or nervous about something

she thinks of it as somewhat of a tether to your love

which sounds cheesy, so don't ever tell anyone clarisse told you that

or else

(she says jokingly)

clarisse is a very touchy partner

she likes to act like she isn't, because she's all tough or whatever

and wanting to be hugged and cuddled every once in a while means that she isn't tough apparently

you've told her a million times this isn't true, but she doesn't believe you

sometimes the two of you will cuddle in front of the campfire, and clarisse is always hesitant because there's so many people around, but all you have to do is bat your eyelashes (and occasionally make grabby hands if she's feeling more stubborn) and then she's there, cuddling with you

when the two of you are alone though... oh my god she will not stop touching you

if you like get up to go to the bathroom she starts complaining immediately about how the two of you were all warm and comfortable and then you had to go and ruin it

she shuts up when you come back though

when you brought clarisse home to meet your mortal parent... let's just say it was an entertaining day

clarisse likes to present herself as a very put together person, and that not much can shake her

but oh dear gods

you're sure that you've never seen her look more nervous than on the way to your mortal parent's house

like sweating and stammering and acting soooo nervous

she wants to make a really good impression, but kinda believes that she can't

it doesn't help that you kiss her in front of your front door to help calm her down, and THAT'S when your parent opens the door

she actually does end up making a good impression, but she still leaves thinking it went horribly

it probably would take a lot of convincing for clarisse to introduce you to her mom, if she ever does, because the two of them aren't on the best terms

basically, the two of you are so freaking in love it kinda disgusts your friends, but it's better now than it was when the two of you were pretending you didn't like each other

thank you so much for reading! there wasn't a lot in this abt the hecate!daughter thing it was basically just dating clarisse headcanons so i apologize for that but i am open to doing a part 2!

#percy jackson #clarisse la rue #clarisse larue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse larue x reader #clarisse la rue fluff #hecate!daughter #hecate!daughter!reader #hecate #pjo #hoo #headcanons #xanasaurusrex #xan's anons #xan's requests

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syoddeye · 4 months

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the lift

gaz x f!reader | 1.4k words cw: alcohol a/n: received a powerlifter x kyle prompt from an anon. i don't normally take requests, but i've been itching to write something sweet for him. influenced by a recent thing i wrote up about gaz flubbing a flirt. i'm a normie/casual weightlifter. apologies to actual powerlifters. 🏋️

“Fuck me running.”

“Sounds difficult.”

“Get a load of her.”

“Pick your jaw off the floor, and stop staring, lech.”

“You’d be no better if you just looked.”

Gaz rolls his eyes at Soap’s stupefied expression, watching him miss his mouth with his pint glass. Foam spills over onto his shirt, causing the Scot to jerk in his seat and stare at his own appendage in offense.

View must be good for Soap to make himself more of a fool than usual. Kyle adjusts his cap, turns his head to the side in a feigned stretch, and immediately clocks the distraction in question.

A woman in a backless top sits alone at the bar with something fruity in hand. No bra band in sight, no tan lines either. That’s not what glues his eyes to her, though. It’s the rippling muscle the cut of fabric shows off, defined and apparent as she lifts her glass to drink. It continues south, too, her thick thighs spilling over the narrow stool. She looks like she’d give Ghost a run for his money. Like she’d rip him in half like a phone book.

He needs to talk to her.

Kyle turns back to Soap, dabbing at himself with a fistful of napkins. He downs the rest of his beer and then stands.

“I’ll get us fresh drinks.”

Before the lout can breathe a word, he beelines to the bar. Only. When he gets there, it occurs to him he doesn’t know what to say. Any other pretty face, he’d toss out one of his corny but winning lines. Send over a drink. With her, her muscles more impressive up close and wholly focused on a women’s football match, he’s tongue-tied. And that doesn’t happen often. Must be the moon’s position or something.

He bides his time, staring through the screen like he’s watching, thinking of what to say. Avoids the bartender’s curious gaze.

Then, an elbow knocks his arm very gently.

“Fishlock’s a beast, right?”

Kyle’s head swivels, eyebrows to his hairline. The target of his ill-planned op glances between him and the television.

“Yeah,” he sputters out a second too late. “She’s…feisty.” He could break his glass over his head. Feisty? What was he, eighty years old?

To his delight, she laughs, and a rush of heat flares in his stomach at the sound.

“Understatement of the century.”

He chuckles in disbelief at his luck. She gives him another smile. Fuck, he is done for.

“You want to join me? Had a friend cancel, and I hate watching alone.”

“I’d love to,” he says, dropping into the empty stool probably too quickly. Their knees touch, but she doesn’t pull away. He fixes his eyes on the screen after placing an order. He watches the Welsh battle the Ukrainians, absorbing as many names and numbers as possible. His phone burns a hole in his pocket, and he can’t help but wonder how soon he can excuse himself to the toilet to read ten articles on women’s football for a refresher.

When she chimes in with a comment or a jeer, he does his best to reciprocate. Using talents he’s cultivated for infiltration and interrogation to string along a conversation in which he has no business participating.

It goes swimmingly until—

“There y’are, thought I’d have to find a bloodhound.”

Soap.

Kyle shifts in his seat, leveling a stare he hopes both contain whatever bullshit Soap’s preparing to spew—heaps, judging by his awful smirk—and communicates an unsubtle do not fuck this up for me.

“Who’s this?”

Kyle opens his mouth, apparently in preparation to insert his own foot. He hasn’t gotten around to the name bit yet. Too busy learning about women’s football in real time. He looks sidelong at his would-be companion, another soft smile coming to his rescue.

She introduces herself, and he tries not to tack on a silent Garrick at the end of it, just to feel how it sounds. Christ, beyond done for.

“Pleasure to meet you.” She says.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. Name’s John, and this is–”

“Kyle. Like he said. Pleasure’s mine.” He offers a hand without hesitation, grinning when she takes it. Nearly groans at the calluses on her palms and fingers. Didn’t know he was into that. He smirks inwardly. Hm. Learning several new things today, Gaz.

“Are you…also here to watch the match?” She asks, gaze flitting between them.

He stares hard at Soap again and witnesses the devil himself whispering into the Scot’s ear. It’s truly an act of divine intervention when the other man shakes his head.

“‘Fraid not. I’ve got to run along, but Garrick’s all yours tonight.” He winks unctuously, waggling a brow to really sell it. “If you don’t mind watchin’ him.”

She smirks and pats his knee. “I’m sure I can handle him.”

Soap looks downright rakish. “Oh, I bet you can. See you in the morn, Kyle.”

He’s torn in two: she’s touched his leg and Soap’s cheek about tomorrow. The idiot lives a door down. They’re both on for PT at 0500. Dickhead.

“He’s friendly.” She muses as they return to the match.

“Too friendly. Like a failed police dog.” He mutters.

“Hmm. Does that make him a bad soldier?”

It takes effort not to choke. Their career, generally speaking, isn’t a secret, only their activities. Still. “Smart guess.”

“Despite his creative haircut, you’re both decently cut and we’re, what, twenty minutes from a base? Plus,” she shrugs. “His tattoo. Giveaway. I would’ve said ‘reenactor wannabe’, but your reaction confirms it.”

Kyle’s tongue swipes behind his teeth. She gets better by the minute. “Yeah? And, uh, what do you do for work?” Something physical, he bets silently. Something that necessitates her kind of build or creates it.

“I’m a tailor.”

Or…not at all.

He can’t stop himself from blurting out. “So the muscles are—“ He abruptly stops, fingers gripping his drink tightly. Sweet Freddie Mercury. Forget smashing a glass over his scalp, he’ll vault through the front door headfirst.

“Powerlifting,” she proudly shares, setting her cocktail down to flex. Her muscles jump beneath her skin, straining into a mesmerizing landscape of strength and power. “My main hobby. If I could make money off it, believe me, I would,” she swings her frame forward and twists, showing off her traps. “But I learned how to sew and alter clothes when I, uh, outgrew conventional sizes.” Disdain paints the word. “Everything I’m wearing I customized to fit me, and me specifically.”

“Genius.” he says simply, mind half-blank when she turns forward again, flexing her biceps and forearms toward her lap. So she’s good with her hands.

A fist uncurls, and a finger crooks up. His face lifts to a smug smile.

“Impressed?”

“Thoroughly.” He swallows.

Her eyes drag over him, slowly and methodically. Picking him apart like a piece of meat. He suppresses a shudder. Yet another thing he didn’t know he liked.

“How much do you weigh?”

A simple enough question. One he’s asked every so often, especially in medical, in between formal physicals. Coming from her, however, it’s an invitation.

And it is.

Straight into her arms.

Half the pub’s watching when she hoists him parallel to the ground, overhead, and squats. For a brief moment, arms crossed over his chest and back rigid, he swears he hears The Time of My Life. When she returns him to solid ground, to the cheers and toasts from the small crowd, he might as well still be in the air. Heavenbound. Preparing to meet Peter.

Eventually, the atmosphere calms, and he finds himself thigh-to-thigh with his strongwoman. They watch the remainder of the match, chatting—mostly about sports and work, but a bit about the little things—he’s not too thick when she offhandedly mentions knowing the neighborhood well. That her place is a few streets over.

He needs to be back on base before sunrise. He tells her as much outside the bar after the Welsh suffer defeat in penalties. He can relate to the feeling, knowing Soap’s gonna give him hell and Price will ream him out if he’s hungover.

“Kyle, you’re cute, but we’re not at the sleepover stage yet,” she teases, picking invisible dust off his shirt. “I can give you a lift when you’re ready to leave.”

Strong. Witty. Confident. Can absolutely rip him in half. There is nothing he doesn’t like about her. So, so fucked.

He grins stupidly when she beckons with a finger, beginning to walk toward her place.

“Premium?” He jokes, following. “I don’t settle for anything less than top-tier car service.”

“Not that kind of lift,” She answers, looking over a sculpted shoulder. “Fireman or princess?”

Kyle almost stumbles.

“Yes.”

#gaz x reader #gaz x f!reader #kyle gaz garrick x f!reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz feeling flustered over a muscular and strong woman is Very Important to me #may or may not have channeled my *own* feelings about meeting women that could shot put me to the moon

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eydi-andrius · 4 months

Text

Soldier Down (Harvey x Reader)

Synopsis: After the heart wrenching experience of rejection from the last flower dance, you decided to skip it on year 2 making your newfound friends worried

a/n: the idea is all over the place... maybe. i just wanted to write something for my husband of two years, which was Harvey the town doctor. sorry, i got is so bad for him 😭

tw/cw: badly edited... it's 3AM, i wrote it after some idea boost, fluff, mild angst, happy ending

divider: @/cafekitsune

“What do you mean you're not going to participate in this year's flower dance?” Emily almost flipped the sewing machine over when out of the blue you confessed your desire to not join the spring flower dance, an event in which everyone was looking forward to participating, except George who hates the look and smell of the flowers.

Meanwhile, beyond Emily’s shoulder, you watched as Haley, who was in the kitchen, minding her own business, turned her head slowly, frown plastered on her forehead, as she stared at you. Are you for real?, was written all over her pretty face. Haley loves the flower dance. In fact, you know she makes an effort to look the prettiest on that special day. The look of disbelief is so strong, that you found yourself clenching the glass of orange juice you're holding, trying to look small behind it. Wishing that it can hide you from the shame that's slowly creeping in.

Gulping the sweet and sour orange liquid in one go, you prayed that even without alcohol, the citrus would give you courage not to stutter and look like an idiot trying to explain your plan to skip an important event in the valley after experiencing a silly little rejection. Everyone gets rejected here and there. There is no way one rejection left you that traumatized……right?

“Well…..Uhmmm…. I just don't want to. I- I don't feel like joining.” Great. What a plan. And you practiced the reason in front of the mirror way too many times before finally having courage to share this big decision.

Palm sweaty, you tried clenching the evidence of fear on your denim pants, rubbing and squeezing, in hopes that it will help dry your hands. But, it did nothing to calm your nerves, absentmindedly, your right leg started shaking. Head hot from a million thoughts running inside your mind, scared that Emily and Haley will judge you the moment they found out that even after a year, you still can't get over how Harvey declined your offer to dance with him. At that time, when he mentioned that he was working on his courage to ask someone out, it gave you false hope that he may be referring to you. It may sound like a stretch but you thought there was something blooming with your relationship with him. It seems that way….. or so you’ve thought.

In your first year, as an early riser, you always meet the doctor at his clinic. Most of the time, you just see him by his window, sitting in front of the reception, waiting for any of the townsfolk to ask for his assistance. Your interaction started off with shy glances, which turned into a curt nod of acknowledgement, a nod turned into small smiles, smiles became hesitant waves of your hand, and a wave evolved into a morning routine of exchanging pleasantries and coffee before you two start your long day at work and doing your respective responsibilities.

You were so happy, and you admit at that time, you're grateful that despite the doctor being a bit awkward and shy, you two clicked and are forming a bond, and you usually don't admit your feelings easily, but you know deep down that you're starting to like him. He was so sweet and caring afterall. How could you resist him?

So when the rejection came on the day of the event, when you asked him politely to be your partner, then he awkwardly looked away and kindly said no. It felt like a bucket of ice cold water was splashed on your face. Your body went rigid, a chill ran down your spine, until it turned into a scorching fire of shame. After a mess of mumbling apologies, wishing that a hole would open up and swallow you down, you half walk and run as you left the forest and did not watch the whole event unfold. You were so glad that at that time, your tanned skin, after days of being under the sun farming, had hidden your embarrassment well from their naked eyes.

You involuntary flinched, when a firm hand held your shaking leg and effectively stopped the movement. Blurry eyes start focusing on Emily’s face, her eyes reflecting your ashen appearance, pity and worry were mixed on her gaze, and you admit that you feel small and vulnerable in front of her……and Haley, who held your shoulder and squeezed it to give you comfort. You did not notice her coming close at all. It says a lot on how you must have looked in their eyes. They must have been worried sick.

“Sorry. We don't want you to remember anything awful that may have happened that day. But maybe the doctor has his own reasons when he rejected you. It was your first month after all. Doctor Harvey is known to be very awkward and shy. Maybe he was just shy???” Your blue haired friend shrugged as she tried her best to reason out and make you feel better. A scoff was heard from Haley as she disapproves of what Emily said, or so you thought.

“I can't believe I am defending a man but my sister is right. Doctor Harvey is far too much of a softie to purposely play with your heart and reject you after giving you motives.” She tuts. “I bet he was feeling a bit overwhelmed that someone asked him for a dance. You know…. Choosing to dance with him, while the other younger bachelors were around.” She continued as a matter of fact.

You watched as Emily glared at Haley’s sharp tongue and the blonde just shook her shoulders with no care. Chuckling nervously, you twiddle with your thumbs as you process what they’ve said. It is easier said than done. You have been in this headspace for a year, that despite their words being reasonable, you just can't believe it to be true. Doctor Harvey probably has his eyes set on someone smarter. You are quite bright but not as smart as Maru.

“I- I don't know.” Unsure, you look at them, lip on a thin line. Now that you're on the hotseat and being grilled about it, you hope to steer away from the conversation. It's just childish to you, even though the sisters never called you anything similar to that. You felt childish. You were grateful when your phone alarm went off, screaming and screeching, signaling that the gold bars you processed are ready for harvest. After that, you have to go to Jodi and give it to her to finish her request and get some gold coins, which you have to use to save up for summer crops. Still far away per say but better saved up than use your dwindling savings again if something disastrous happens. Just like the last time where your crops suddenly died despite being taken care of.

Also, you just don't want to bawled your eyes out. Knowing Emily and Haley, they will try their best to cheer you up. You know you can't stay here with them trying to boost your confidence without crying. And you don't want to cry. It's too cliché. So with an obvious rush on your steps, you almost jump out of their door and run towards the nearest way to your home, which was near Marnie’s barn.

“Do you really think the doctor is not playing with her heart?” Emily sighed as she watched the door, you almost closed way too loudly, as you obviously rushed towards it, with an intent to run away from the conversation you started. She would lie if she says she’s not worried. Despite the farmer being known to be strong-willed, both physical and mentally, she's also an empath and a softie. You feel things way too strongly. This is why Emily likes you a lot. She can be vulnerable towards you because she knows you’ll understand better than anyone in Pelican Town. And with that, she hopes that only good things come your way.

“Remember the story Abigail told you on your shift? After the accident with the farmer fainting inside the mines, Abigail rushed her to his clinic, barely alive, and he was waiting and ready. Remember that before that, he would often be seen to have his lights on at night, way past his usual bedtime, especially, on days wherein he knew that the farmer was inside the mines. If that isn't love, I don't know what that is?” Haley sighed as she flopped herself on the nearby couch.

“He is the only town doctor, Haley. That's to be expected.” She doesn't want to be the party pooper but that needs to be addressed as well.

“Emily…..usually, it would be you defending someone. But weirdly enough, I am doing it this time. So okay, let's make it our mission to help the doctor and the farmer to choose each other in this year’s flower dance. Doctor Harvey is a man of routine, however, when the farmer is included in the equation, he would go out of his way to accommodate her. I just have a good feeling about this. I bet they'll get married this year.” Haley shrugged before she pulled out her phone texting for reinforcements.

“Luckily, this Thursday is my annual check-up.”

“Remind me again why you two are at my farm?” You blinked as you watched Sebastian and Sam sit at your porch after they showed up earlier while you’re tending to your livestocks.

“How many times do we have to say that we came here to practice? You’re not sensitive to loud sounds. Your farm is huge. We can all jam here together.” He explained.

See…that's the thing. Sebastian, you would understand he’ll come here. He loves the quiet of the farm and would often help you out as a thank you for letting him stay and relax, here and there. But Sam? Sam hates the smell of animal manure. He also hates ducks because as per his story, he was chased down by them when he was a kid. Something is not right but you can't quite pinpoint where it was coming from.

Your suspicion may be written all over your face because Seb shrugged and sighed at his best friend's awful excuse.

“Sam just wants to see Helios.” Seb spoke.

As if on cue, upon hearing his name, a loud bark was heard from afar, and you heard his paws hitting the soft soil before you saw a brown dog, wearing a red collar, rushing towards where you three were standing. Like a giddy kid, Sam's eyes widened and he excitedly kneel and open his arms, waiting for Helios to go towards him. Helios, the smartest pup, went towards Sam without hesitation, knowing he’ll get good treats and pets from him.

You don't want to spoil Sam’s delusion that he was your pup’s favorite, but you and Helios know that it was Harvey he liked the most. Even your old rescue, Helga, the big orange grumpy cat, purrs at the doctor when he visits the farm. Helga isn't nice just to anyone. Even Seb took a long time before Helga finally purred at him. Yet, Harvey was loved at first sight. It was obvious that it was because he is very gentle towards them. You also witnessed a time where he was talking to them. Retelling stories of his childhood where his parents hated pets because they are dirty and a source of diseases. Their obsession and hatred towards the baby animals made Harvey anxious and avoided adopting any pet, not because he thinks they were a handful, but he feels conscience, that he wasn't able to do anything to save the cats and dogs his parents threw away after trespassing in their property.

You bite your lip when you realize that you're thinking about him again. The pang in your chest grows more painful as the day passes by, and the spring flower dance is getting closer, and no action was taken on your end. You want to dance with him. You want your intention towards him to be clear. However, the fear and doubt takes over and you crumple like a coward.

“Hey, you should ask the doctor about this upcoming flower dance.” Out of nowhere, Seb suggested. And there was something that clicked in your head.

So that….was the reason why they are here.

“Oh god no!” You grimaced and shook your head in refusal. Emily or Haley must have told him about what you’ve talked about last time.

“Emily told you?!” You asked, exasperated.

“She doesn't need to. It's a small town. Eventually, everyone will know.” He corrected your assumption and leaned towards the armrest of his seat. Your response was only a sigh, as you focused your attention on Sam and Helios, who was now playing fetch with a ball.

“Sam didn't know about this?” Putting your arm around your chest, you clarified.

“Nah. He does. He got distracted.” He shrugged. Internally, you heavily sighed.

“Then tell me how you found out?” You pry him some more.

“Should I tell you? I mean…it seems like you told Emily and Haley, and not me, your best friend. It kind of sucks.” He pouted.

You playfully slapped his shoulder at that and he only rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll spill!” He raised his hand in surrender.

“Haley texted me.” He admitted with a grin.

“You are the worst!” You slap him again, but this time, you made sure it will hurt.

“I’m sorry! Hey! I said I’m sorry! Hahahaha!” Sebastian used his arms to shield himself from your attacks, and he had the audacity to laugh out loud from your hits.

When his laughter annoyed you more, shame and frustration mixed together, you made sure that some of the playful punches actually hit him quite hard. He yelped when he finally felt that you meant it, and used his strength to stop you from your continuous onslaught of him. He grabbed your hands and chuckled at your pouting lips and frowning brows.

There was a pause and you watched as something flashed in his eyes before he smiled.

“Don’t be scared. There is nothing wrong inviting and asking him again. The fifty percent chance of him saying no, is still a fifty percent chance of him saying yes. I mean….if he ever said no” He paused, his face morphed thoughtfully.

“I can always dance with you to the flower dance.” He continued.

You felt warmth from that, and you cannot help but smile.

Sebastian was like a brother to you. It was weird. But the moment you two met each other, there was this bond, that was akin to being siblings that was created.

He always looked out for you, and you always looked out for him. Robin being fond of you was probably one of the main reasons why your sibling-like relationship with him strengthened.

He is like a baby brother that you never had. However, you know that Sebastian always thinks he is the eldest brother which was a lie because you are two years older than him.

Seb’s sincere smile suddenly changed into a cheshire one, and you kind of got a hint that he will make fun of you.

But before you two could banter, a loud, intentional coughing was heard behind you and you froze when the source spoke.

“I- Hi! Sorry for interrupting.” He started with a stutter.

You suddenly realized the position you were at. Sebastian holding both of your hands, your faces inched closer from arguing. Embarrassed, you pulled your hand away from his hold, and like the speed of the lightning, moved farther from Seb, clenching both of your fists. Your face and ears, hot to the tips.

“Hey, doc! What are you up to?” Sebastian casually asked. And you gave him a deadly glare. He only smirked at your reaction.

You panicked as you watched Harvey look in between the both of you, and was about to open your mouth to explain, when the doctor smiled, although forcefully, as he continued.

“Well…uhnnnnm..I replenished the tonics I have at the clinic. I was wondering if you would like to buy some?” He asked, but he was looking down while offering.

“Didn't know you’re selling house to house now, Doctor Harvey?” Seb teased.

Your eyes widened at that, and you mouthed a threat at him, in which Sebastian only replied with a shrug.

“I-I usually don't. But the farmer was always in the mines so..I thought…uhm…I” Harvey’s face turned into a tomato, and his eyes were wide, as he stammered, and tried to explain why he was at your farm. He was caught off guard from the younger man’s question. He felt awfully shameful, the red was even creeping up to his neck.

“Harvey, it's okay. Seb was just teasing you.” You tried to deescalate the situation, and you stepped down from your porch, to come closer to the reddened Harvey.

Deep inside you are panicking for him. His red face, and embarrassed stammer, makes your heart beat faster, infected by his shame. You feel like your heart will jump out of your ribs.

Out of nowhere, Sam suddenly came into view, and tapped the doctor on his shoulder to say Hi.

As if the action woke him up, Harvey flinched, and he suddenly bid his farewell but with reminding you to come to his clinic if you ever needed a tonic when you mine and combat monsters.

You watched his back, as he rode his bicycle away from your farm, watching him slowly going away left a pang on your chest.

When he was out of view, your attention however, was now back to the culprit. With no person to stop you, you removed one of your slippers and threw it at Sebastian, who crouched down to hide, but was still hit straight to his head. He yelped in pain, but soon you heard his laughter.

Sam was oblivious and frowning, when Sebastian’s laugh boomed and he tried his best to apologize and breathe at the same time.

You cannot sleep.

Yoda, forgive you for picturing Harvey’s downcast face when he saw you with Sebastian.

It was an image you do not wish to see. But every time you close your eyes, you see it oh so perfectly.

You don't wish to see Harvey sad or misinterpreting your relationship with Sebastian.

Yet, you have no strength to stand and go to him to explain or clarify.

Because….what if you're just assuming things? What if he wasn't really sad but just surprised? What if? Yoda! Too many what ifs!

You ruffled your hair from frustration, and you kind of forgot that Helga was sleeping beside your head. You profusely apologize when the old cat hissed at you, before jumping down, and comfortably sitting on the jacket Harvey lent for you to use. It was raining, and you were soaking when you visited him at his clinic.

At that time, you insisted that you are okay. That the rain will make your farmer body stronger. But he only pouted at that reasoning, and you cannot help but accept his offer anyways, because he looks so cute when he cares. Technically, he looks so cute in everything he does.

Those memories are precious to you. And you have this feeling that if you let this go, it will be the end of your relationship with him.

You have to make it up to Harvey. Whether he likes you or not. You cannot live knowing he misunderstood. Out of all the people in Pelican Town, you don't want to be perceived wrongfully by Harvey.

After yelling on your pillow, for courage, you stood up, wore your scarf, and started walking towards the clinic. With renewed vigor, you did not think things through, and you found yourself just standing in front of his door. Not knowing what to do.

Thoughts were on a haywire, you were breathing heavily, trying to force yourself, remind your head, why you were here in front of his door at 12 AM.

The courage that gave you strength earlier, slowly diminishes, and you realize how cold it was. Your teeth were chattering and you were shaking involuntarily from the bone chilling wind. You hugged the scarf tighter hoping it gives you enough warmth ... .as you walk back to the farm again. Feeling cowardly when it hit you how stupid you must have looked walking on an unmarried man’s house way past midnight.

You looked one last time at his mahogany door, deciding that whatever good idea you had was probably bad, as you stepped back, retrieved your hand, that was ready to knock, finally ready to just go back home and forget this…

When his door opened, revealing a disbehelved Harvey, glasses crook, hair was everywhere, white shirt soaked from sweat and breathing heavily from probably running from upstairs to downstairs just to meet you.

You were about to open your mouth, was about to ask him how did he know that you were in front of his door, when he explained himself after he was able to breathe.

“Your glow rings. It was only you who wore glow rings in Pelican Town.” Your cheeks heated at that and you involuntarily looked down on your fingers and in there, you were indeed wearing one of your glow rings you use for the mines. It was an automatic response. Wearing your glow rings at night, to see the dimmed pathways better.

“Oh Yoda! I’m so sorry for waking you up!” You panicked, and apologized profusely when you understood that you interrupted someone’s sleep again due to your glow rings. You remembered how the Mayor scolded you to make sure to remove or darken your ring once you walked past the town, on your way home to the farm.

“You didn't wake me!” He countered. “I cannot sleep.” He admitted face was red.

“Oh.”

Was your only response before there was a pregnant pause that swallowed the whole conversation to a full stop. You bite your lip, thinking of many things to say to change the awkward silence. But truthfully, you don't know how. You watch him as he just stands there, cheeks red, hands on his neck, and shyly looking away. The crickets were loud, and you watched as the moths danced around the light post. Although the silence was loud…..it was weirdly comfortable.

“Would you like some tea?” He offered. Breaking the ice.

You nodded, not trusting to open your mouth, afraid to say anything that may sabotage whatever was starting.

You followed him up to his room upstairs, and he guided you to sit on his two person dining table. He apologized for how small his place was and you assured him it was okay, and it was you who was imposing.

While his back was turned on the kitchen preparing the tea, you looked around, and you cannot help but smile on seeing the familiar wallpaper of his room, and the posters of different planes plastered on his wall. You swore, it looks fuller now. It seems like the space for his planes are bigger than the ones for his medical profession. You chuckled at that.

“Care to share?” He playfully asked as he sat the steaming mug of chamomile tea in front of you, its aroma filling a sense of calm and familiarity, which you liked.

“You're building a new model plane again? Looks fun.” You nodded on the new wooden pieces on his work bench. He followed your eyes and smiled sheepishly at your attention and observation.

“Ah..yes. I was hoping to show it to you. Invite you over earlier when…” He paused and looked at you. When you felt his eyes on you, you stared back at him.

You felt like that was the perfect moment to say something.

“Sebastian is like a brother to me. Nothing more.” You explained, gripping the warm and comfortable tea cup, nervous of what he may tell you.

Maybe it was the warm cup, or the shift of energy in the air, that made you feel vulnerable and open as you blurted out a confession.

“Harvey…it was only you I like.”

At that moment, you have forgotten your dilemma that maybe he doesn't like you the same. At that time, you just felt that it was the right time to confess. You thought it was now or never.

You watched as his brown eyes widened, his mouth agape, he looked surprised, face blank from any emotions of rejection or happiness.

You were hopeful until you weren't. His none response jarring your confidence.

It took a couple of seconds before you felt the shame coming back, he was just staring at you, quiet, surprised, not saying a word.

You feel so bad, ashamed, that when he doesn't say anything, you started rapping, telling him he is not required to respond right away, that it wasn't your intention to drop a bomb to him late at night, that it was just you being silly, or probably just from the lack of sleep.

You were mouthing off a hundred and thousand of reasons and explanations, to get yourself out of the embarrassing moment, when you suddenly felt soft lips enveloping yours, warm calloused hands caging your face, moving in the direction in sync with his lips.

It was gentle and soft. Like a warm breeze in the field of flowers. Trees swaying, fallen leaves dancing, and air sweet as a honey.

You were never kissed like this before.

Most kisses you had were inexperienced, aggressive, and wild. This one…you liked it.

No, you love it.

You never thought that kisses could be felt like this. A warmth pooling in your stomach as you place your hand atop his, deepening the kiss, lost in the feeling.

There was only you and Harvey. And you think…. that wasn't such an awful idea to have. You feel lucky and blessed.

You slowly opened your eyes when Harvey let go of your lips, hands still in your face.

“Would you dance with me? This spring flower dance?” He asked. His whole demeanor changed. He felt much relaxed.

“I cannot think of anyone dancing with me that day.” You smiled, leaning closer to his hand. Happy that everything feels like it is in place.

The moment was beautiful and solemn, until a flash was directed on the window where you and Harvey were standing. Both of your heads snapped from its source and you cannot help but guffaw when your friends push against each other, as they fight off getting away first from being caught after they took a photo of you together.

#eydi andrius #fic: soldier down #sdv harvey #stardew harvey #harvey stardew valley #harvey stardew imagine #stardew valley #harvey fanfic #harvey x reader #harvey x farmer #harvey x you #harvey x y/n

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