#it was difficult to find the right angles for this shoot

[pucksandpower]

Fixer Upper

Max Verstappen x interior designer!Reader

Summary: Max Verstappen is the most frustrating client you’ve ever dealt with … but maybe he can make it up to you

“How about some pops of color in here?” You suggest brightly, gesturing around the stark white walls of Max Verstappen’s new Monaco penthouse.

The Dutch driver sniffs, glancing up briefly from his phone. “No thanks. I like it plain.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he does. You’ve been working with Max for two weeks now trying to decorate his new home, but so far he’s shot down every single idea you’ve proposed.

As an interior designer based in a principality known for catering to the rich and famous, you’re used to difficult clients, but Max may just take the cake. Still, you’re determined to give him the space he desires … if you can only figure out what that is.

“Alright, plain it is,” you say evenly. “But we should at least add some artwork, don’t you think? Something modern and sleek could look fantastic against these walls.”

Max doesn’t even glance up this time. “No art. Don’t like it.”

You inhale slowly. “Okay, no problem. We’ll keep it artless.” Time to switch gears. You gesture to the expansive bank of windows along one wall. “These floor-to-ceiling windows are incredible, some of the best views in Monaco. We could do some fabulous seating here to take advantage of the natural light. Maybe a chaise lounge or two angled toward the harbor ...”

“Don’t need seating.” Max is focused on his phone, thumbs flying. “I’ll just put my sim rig there.”

Your eye twitches involuntarily. His racing simulator setup — in front of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the most coveted views in the principality? Absolutely not.

“Well,” you begin delicately, “Perhaps we could find another place for your sim, one that doesn’t obstruct the views quite so much. I’m sure we could-”

“No, I want it there,” Max interrupts flatly. “I like seeing the water while I drive.” His attention doesn’t waver from the screen in his hands.

You close your eyes briefly and take a calming breath. Alright. No color, no art, and a sim smack in front of priceless views. So much for design aesthetics. Time for a new tactic.

“You must do a lot of cooking,” you say brightly, turning towards the kitchen. “This is an amazing culinary space. We could do some open shelving with sleek finishes to highlight the quartz countertops.”

Silence. Max just gives a non-committal grunt, still absorbed by his phone.

You soldier on. “Or maybe some nice warm wood cabinetry for contrast? I have some fantastic artisan contacts who could do handmade custom designs.”

“Don’t cook much,” he mutters.

Your smile tightens. “Not to worry, we can keep the kitchen minimal too.” Is there anything, anything at all, you can propose that he won’t immediately shoot down? You’re starting to doubt it.

Switching to the living area, you smooth down your dress and try again. “For the living room, I was thinking we could do built-in bookcases along the back wall there, and maybe expose some of the original brick behind for an industrial chic look ...”

Max glances up from his phone to level an unimpressed look at you. “But we’re inside. Brick would make no sense.”

You close your eyes briefly. Of course not. “My mistake, you’re absolutely right,” you say through gritted teeth. Enough pussyfooting around. Time to be direct.

You plant yourself in front of where Max sits on the couch and place your hands on your hips. “Max, I’m going to be honest. I’m having trouble getting a sense of your style and vision for this space. You’ve rejected all my ideas so far.”

He blinks up at you blandly. “I don’t like any of your ideas. This is my place and I want to do what I want.”

You resist the urge to tear your hair out in frustration. “Of course, and I want you to have exactly what you want. But in order to do that, I need you to communicate with me. Tell me what kind of look and feel you envision for your home. Modern, traditional, minimalist? What colors and textures appeal to you?”

Max just shrugs, his attention already drifting back to his phone. “I don’t know. Just make it nice.”

Oh for god’s sake. You inhale slowly through your nose. “Perhaps you could show me some inspiration photos of interiors you like?”

“Nah, don’t feel like it.”

That’s it. You’ve had it with this infuriating man. You know you shouldn’t lose your cool with a client, but you’re at the end of your rope.

“Well, I’m afraid ‘make it nice’ doesn’t give me much to go on,” you snap sarcastically. “I can’t read your mind, Max. So unless you start providing concrete input on what you actually want, I’m resigning from this job.”

You expect anger, or at least surprise at your outburst. But Max just regards you evenly for a moment, then nods. “Okay, fair enough. The truth is ...” He pauses, looking faintly embarrassed. “I just wanted an excuse to spend more time around you.”

You blink, blindsided. “I’m sorry, what?”

A slight flush rises in Max’s cheeks. “I didn’t actually care about the decor that much. I just thought if I kept saying no to all your ideas, you’d have to stay involved with the project longer.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “Guess I took the stubborn client thing too far.”

You’re dumbfounded. And, if you’re being honest, a little charmed. “Let me get this straight — you’ve been wasting my time and driving me crazy for two weeks because you … have a crush on me?”

Max winces. “When you put it like that, I sound like an idiot.”

You have to laugh. “A bit, yeah.” But you can’t help but feel a warm flutter in your stomach too. You’ve always thought Max was cute in a boyish way. Knowing he orchestrated this whole thing just to spend time with you is, admittedly, very flattering. And more than a little endearing.

Max rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be difficult on purpose. I just ...” He trails off with a helpless little shrug.

You take pity on him. Yes, leading you on a wild goose chase of rejected designs was unprofessional. But the hesitant smile he’s giving you now tugs at your heartstrings anyway.

“Well, I appreciate you coming clean,” you say gently. “How about we start fresh? I’d love to actually get your real input now on what you want.”

His smile widens, grey eyes lighting up. “Yeah?”

You can’t help but smile back. “On one condition.”

He nods eagerly. “Name it.”

“You take me to dinner.” You arch an eyebrow. “To make up for the stress you caused me over the past two weeks.”

Max lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “Deal.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I really made a mess of this, didn’t I?”

“Little bit, yeah.” You grin to soften the reproach. “Next time just ask me out for a drink. It’s a much more straightforward approach.”

“Duly noted.” He smiles sheepishly.

You move to sit next to him on the couch. “So tell me honestly, what kind of look are you picturing for this place?”

Max considers the blank canvas of a space. “Honestly, I’m open to anything you suggest. I trust your taste — I’ve seen your work before and it’s amazing.” His eyes meet yours. “But I do definitely want my sim rig with a view. That part wasn’t a lie.”

You laugh. “We can make that work.” Your gaze travels over the strong lines of his face, the mussed brown hair, the wry curve of his smile that makes your heart beat faster.

As you begin sketching possible layout options, you make a mental note to clear your schedule for dinner soon. Very soon.

***

“Well, this is … quite a space,” you say diplomatically as the hostess leads you and Max to your table.

You’re immediately assaulted by a riot of clashing colors and patterns as your gaze darts around the trendy restaurant he’s brought you to for dinner. Your trained designer’s eye picks out aesthetic atrocities everywhere you look.

An art deco mirror topped by an incongruous ultra-modern light fixture. Fussy rococo chairs paired with sleek metal tables. And dear god, is that shag carpeting?

“Yes, Le Chat Noir is very popular right now,” Max agrees, seemingly oblivious to the decor travesties surrounding you.

You hold your tongue as the hostess seats you. The haphazard decor choices are an assault on your senses, but you don’t want to seem rude on your first date with Max.

A server appears to take your drink orders. You welcome the distraction, busying yourself with the wine list. But as soon as he departs, Max leans forward, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Alright, I know that look. Out with it — what do you really think?”

You bite your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gestures broadly around. “Of all this.”

You hesitate. “The decor is certainly … interesting.”

Max grins. “I can tell you absolutely hate it.”

You wince. Damn, he’s perceptive. And here you were trying so hard to remain poker-faced.

“Sorry,” you say with an embarrassed laugh. “I was attempting to refrain from judgment, but it appears I failed.”

“No need to apologize.” He settles back in his chair. “Please, critique away. I want to hear your professional opinion.” His eyes dance with humor. “Don’t hold back.”

Well, far be it from you to turn down an invitation like that. As your drinks arrive, you take a fortifying sip of wine before launching in.

“Alright, you asked for it.” You set the glass down firmly. “This space is an absolute disaster from a design perspective. It’s like the interior decorator was blindfolded and threw darts at a wall covered in paint swatches and fabric samples. Nothing goes together at all.”

You point above your table. “That light fixture up there? Ultrasmack modern against 19th century crown molding? Make it make sense.”

Max chuckles. “Quite the mashup.”

You lean forward, on a roll now. “And this carpet!” You gesture in horror to the shag beneath your feet. “This trend needs to retire immediately. It looks like an avocado fucked a bear.”

Max nearly chokes on his drink. “A what now?”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean. Just tragic.”

Sitting back, you take in the rest of the garish space. “The artwork over there is just hideous. And that tufted velvet on the booths makes me want to scream. Who decided olive green was an accent color that pairs well with anything?”

You turn back to Max, on a tirade now. “Honestly, nothing works. The proportions are bad, the color palette is an atrocity, the mixture of styles is absurd. It’s like the designer threw every conceivable element at the wall to see what would stick. I could have done a better job blindfolded after downing a bottle of tequila.” You finally stop for breath, cheeks flushed.

Max has an enormous grin on his face. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling too. “Sorry for the outburst. Like I said, feel free to tell me to zip it.”

“Are you kidding? I could listen to you shred this place all night.” Max shakes his head, looking delighted. “I’ve never seen you so worked up. It’s adorable.”

You blush, smoothing your hair self-consciously. “Oh hush. I just have … strong opinions when it comes to interior design choices.”

“Clearly.” Max’s eyes positively dance with affection. “I love how passionate you are. And your criticisms are spot on. This place really is horrendously designed.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait, you actually agree? You’re not just humoring me?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not. My knowledge doesn’t come remotely close to yours, but even I can tell everything in here clashes hideously.” He gestures at the table. “I mean, a wooden chair back with a metal seat? Just pick one material!”

You grin, happiness blossoming in your chest. It’s such a treat to have him validate your expert opinions instead of just patronizing them like many dates would. You launch eagerly back into listing all the ways the restaurant decor offends you, with Max chiming in occasional agreement or egging you on for more.

By the time your food arrives, you’ve dissected the lighting, furniture, textiles, and color schemes within an inch of their lives. Max watches you intently the whole time, blatantly enraptured by your critiques. Your wine glass is nearly empty from all the gesticulating.

“Well, I think that covers all the ways this interior design should be illegal,” you conclude, taking a bite of your meal. “Thanks for indulging me. I know I can get carried away analyzing spaces.”

“I could listen to you trash talk bad design forever.” Max can’t seem to rip his eyes away from yours. “I love how opinionated you are. And you look so damn sexy getting all fired up about it.”

A pleasurable shiver runs through you at his heated look. Maybe ripping this restaurant to shreds wasn’t the most conventional date conversation, but it clearly impressed Max. Nothing like a shared hatred of garish decor to bring two people together.

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoys these tirades,” you laugh. You cock your head coyly. “Maybe I could come over sometime outside of work and critique your place again now that it’s shaping up. I’m sure I can find a few more things to complain about.”

Max’s eyes darken. “I’d like that.” He leans forward with a roguish smile. “Maybe we can get out of here and you can tell me all the ways you’d redesign the bedroom in my current apartment. You know, so we can avoid making those mistakes again while you help decorate my bedroom in the penthouse.”

You nearly choke on your wine, heat flooding your face. And lower regions. Goodness, Max’s flirty side really brings out your inner vixen.

You recover and stroke his ankle lightly with your heel under the table. “I’d be happy to provide any hands-on design consultation you require.”

Max sucks in a sharp breath, eyes blazing. The temperature between you two has risen about fifty degrees in the last few seconds. Suddenly you want nothing more than to leave this horribly designed restaurant and get him alone.

Immediately.

***

“A good mattress is crucial for proper sleep and recovery,” Max declares as you walk into the upscale furniture store together. “We need to test them thoroughly.”

You allow him to lead you to the mattress section, hiding a smile. When Max asked you to come mattress shopping with him for his new bedroom, you’d naively thought it would be a quick errand. But knowing Max, you should have guessed he’d take the task of “testing” mattresses very seriously.

An eager salesperson appears. “Welcome! Are we looking for any mattress in particular today?”

“We want to try them all,” Max announces, eyeing the rows of display beds keenly.

The salesperson falters. “Er, all of them?”

“How else will we know which is best?” Max shrugs as if this is obvious.

You squeeze his arm, charmed by his matter-of-fact logic. The salesperson forces a professional smile.

“Of course, take all the time you need.” He gestures expansively at the floor models. “I’ll be right here if you have any questions.”

“Excellent.” Max wastes no time striding over to the nearest bed. He sits, then lies back experimentally. “Hmm, decent firmness.” He pats the empty space beside him. “Come try it out.”

You curl up next to him, hiding your smile at the salesperson’s raised eyebrows. When you said you’d help Max pick out a mattress, this wasn’t what you pictured. But you have to admit, lying here with him is fun.

Max frowns. “Too much motion transfer when you move.” He sits up abruptly. “Next!”

You have to smother a laugh as you follow him to the next display. This no-nonsense methodism is peak Max. Systematic and entertainingly stubborn.

At the second bed, Max immediately starfishes spread-eagle. “Well? Get over here and test it with me. It’s the only way we’ll know.” He pats the mattress insistently.

You note the salesperson observing this display with thinly veiled disapproval. But Max just looks so irresistibly eager, you can’t help but indulge him.

You crawl onto the bed and cuddle up to him happily. “Mmm, this one’s nice. Great hugability.” You pretend to grab Max in a koala hold.

He laughs. “Agreed, good hugging potential.” Wrapping his arms around you, he shifts experimentally. “But the bounce is all wrong.” He releases you and sits up. “Next!”

And so it goes for the next hour as you enthusiastically demo mattress after mattress with Max. You try them on your backs, sides, fronts, analyzing the firmness levels and motion transfer. At one point you even test out the edge support — whatever that is — with Max insisting you sit together on the very side of the mattress frame.

“Considerable sag here,” Max murmurs against your ear, his arm firmly around your waist. You have to hide your shiver at his warm breath so close. “Could be problematic.”

The salesperson looks like he’s one demo away from throwing you both out. But Max either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He cheerfully drags you from bed to bed, ticking off pros and cons on his fingers.

“Decent lumbar support, but it sleeps too hot.”

“Great responsiveness, but poor motion isolation.”

You’re having the time of your life. Testing mattresses was benign enough, but the excuse to crawl into bed with Max over and over has you both giddy. Each demo seems to involve increasingly creative configurations of your interlocked bodies as you evaluate firmness and ergonomics.

“I’m just not sure this is a good fit,” Max eventually concludes, frowning up at you from where you straddle his hips. His hands rest casually on your thighs, as if finding yourself atop a handsome man in a public place is perfectly routine mattress research.

You smother a laugh and climb off. “Valid analysis. Though some of the testing scenarios still need more data, I’d say.” You shoot him a coy look.

Max grins. “Agreed. Further testing required.”

The salesperson pointedly avoids looking at you both. “Perhaps you’d like to narrow down your top choices? I’m sure you have plenty of notes by now.” There’s a tautness to his professionalism that suggests you’ve stretched his patience to its limit.

But Max seems oblivious. “We’re not done yet! There are still at least half a dozen models we haven’t tried.” He takes your hand, pulling you toward a plush, pillow-topped display. “Now this one looks perfect for spooning. You little spoon first this time ...”

Mattress testing with Max, you’ve learned, is a delightful mix of structured analysis and shameless flirtation. You can’t remember ever having so much fun shopping. And based on Max’s boyish smile and lingering touches, the feeling is mutual.

“Too much dip in the middle,” Max tuts later, rolling you both gently across yet another mattress surface. “Though the close contact isn’t terrible.” His low voice in your ear makes you shiver.

You grin up at him coyly. “We should do an in-depth pressure point analysis next.”

Max smirks. “Crucial data to collect.”

Eventually, however, even Max’s enthusiasm starts to wane. “I think we have sufficient consumer testing results now,” he decides, pulling you up to sit beside him on the edge of a low platform bed.

You laugh. “That poor salesperson was ready to toss us out an hour ago.”

“Hey, we were conducting necessary R&D!” Max’s grey eyes twinkle. “But I am rather tired now ...”

He lies back, resting his head in your lap. You automatically begin stroking his hair and he sighs, eyes slipping closed. You take the opportunity to admire how sweet he looks, lips slightly parted and lashes fanned on his cheeks. Testing mattresses all afternoon seems to have worn him out.

You lean down to murmur in his ear. “Ready to take this mattress research home to really compare notes?”

One grey eye peeks open. “Mmm, home analysis does sound optimal.” His voice is raspy with fatigue in a way that melts you. “Wake me when it’s time to go?”

You brush a soft kiss to his forehead. “Of course.”

He nuzzles into your lap with a contented noise. Watching his breath deepen into sleep, you feel your heart overflow. There are a thousand reasons you adore Max, but these unexpectedly tender moments might top them all.

The salesperson reappears, offering you a pained smile. “So were you able to decide on a mattress today?”

You grin, fingers still carding through Max’s hair. “You know, I think we need to sleep on it a little longer.”

***

“Well, what do you think?” Max gestures with pride around his freshly competed penthouse.

You take it all in — the sleek but cozy furniture, the warm lighting, the pops of color — and smile. “It’s perfect. You have an incredible home now.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, gazing around. “I really couldn’t have done it without you. This place was a disaster before you came along.”

You lean into him happily. It’s been months since you first met Max and began working with him on decorating his new space. It was a battle at times, but you’re immensely proud of the final result.

“I’m honored I could help bring your vision to life,” you say sincerely. Though if you’re honest, the best part of this project was getting to know Max himself. The way his smile makes your heart flutter hasn’t diminished one bit.

Max turns you to face him, his expression soft. “I didn’t just get a beautifully designed home out of this. I got you.”

Your breath catches at the open affection in his eyes. Before you can respond, he dips his head and kisses you tenderly. You melt against him, the feel of his lips erasing any coherent thought.

When he finally draws back, his eyes are darker. “You know, there’s still one part of the place we haven’t officially christened yet.” He cocks his head toward the bedroom.

You bite your lip, pulse already quickening. “Is that so? Well, we should definitely perform a final inspection to confirm everything meets our standards.”

Max grins wolfishly, pulling you toward the bedroom. “Thorough testing is required.”

You laugh as he tugs you down onto the plush king mattress you’d finally agreed on after extensive “research.” The two of you bounce slightly from the momentum, causing you both to dissolve into giggles.

“Well, motion transfer still seems acceptable,” you quip. Max chuckles and silences you with another heated kiss.

You hum approvingly as his hands begin to roam your body. “Mmm, responsiveness is excellent too ...”

Clothes are quickly shed as you reacquaint yourselves with each other’s forms. When you’re finally skin-to-skin, Max sighs in satisfaction.

“I’ve been waiting months to get you in this bed.” His voice is low and gravelly in a way that makes you shiver.

“It was the longest mattress testing phase ever,” you breathe as his lips kiss down your neck.

Max laughs against your shoulder. “Worth it though, right?”

In answer, you flip him onto his back, straddling his hips. “Absolutely.”

You take your time exploring each other, hands and mouths worshiping every inch. Until late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, bathing the room in an almost ethereal glow.

When Max finally sinks into you, you moan softly at the exquisite fullness. “Oh yes, this mattress has great ergonomics,” you sigh dreamily.

Max huffs a laugh, his chest vibrating against yours. “I’ll be sure to mention that in my product review.”

You grin and shift your hips experimentally, making him groan. “The responsiveness really is top-notch.”

“We should still test a few more positions though,” Max murmurs. “Just to be thorough.”

You happily comply, indulging in acrobatic mattress testing that leaves you both blissfully satisfied and out of breath. As you lay tangled together afterwards, endorphins still flooding your systems, Max presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Well, I’d say the new bed passes inspection with flying colors,” he declares with sleepy satisfaction.

You laugh and stroke his hair. “Agreed. You chose an excellent mattress.” You snuggle closer. “Though the company in it is what I really enjoy.”

Max tightens his arms around you. “Think you can put up with me and my high-maintenance decor demands a while longer?” His voice holds a vulnerable note beneath the teasing.

Your heart swells and you cup his face. “Max Verstappen, I’ll critique mattresses and furniture with you any day. As long as at the end of it, I get to fall asleep next to you.”

His smile outshines the lowering sun. “Deal.”

***

“You know what I love most about how our place looks now?” Max murmurs, his arms wrapped around you on the couch.

You tear your eyes from the awful reality show you’re watching to glance up at him. “Hmm?”

His gaze sweeps over the living room, a small smile on his lips. “All the little touches that are just so you.”

You follow his look around the penthouse that over the past year has transformed from Max’s bachelor pad to your shared home. It’s still sleek and modern overall, but with warm accents reflecting both your styles.

And yes, you realize, your personal influence shows in the decor now that you live here full time. The mugs hung on hooks in the kitchen, the plush blankets tossed artfully on the chairs, the bowls of sea glass collected from beach walks that adorn the tables.

Your heart swells looking at the traces of yourself woven into Max’s space. “It does feel more like home now, doesn’t it?”

Max nods, dropping a kiss to your hair. “It’s perfect. I love coming back after a race and being surrounded by reminders of you.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace, incredibly touched. “Well, I promise to keep leaving my clutter around to make you feel at home.”

He chuckles. “Please do. It’s my favorite kind of clutter.”

Smiling softly, you think back to when you first started dating Max after working on his penthouse makeover. Who could have guessed that would lead to sharing this life together?

Your gaze lands on a shelf displaying photos of the two of you, and your throat grows tight. There’s you and Max laughing on vacation, kissing right after he won his fourth world championship, curled up with hot chocolate on a ski trip. So many beautiful memories.

“It’s hard to remember what this place even looked like before,” you murmur. And not just the decor — it’s hard to recall your life before Max.

He rubs your shoulder idly, eyes faraway. “I know what you mean. It’s like you’ve always been here.” His voice holds a note of wonder.

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Max’s eyes shine. He bends to kiss you, soft and heartfelt. Your lips curve against his.

When you reluctantly draw back, the television screen catches your eye. You cringe at the fake drama unfolding.

“Ugh, this show is terrible,” you groan. “Can we watch something else?”

Max grins and grabs the remote, flipping through channels. He eventually lands on a home renovation program you both enjoy analyzing and critiquing together. Some things never change.

You settle in eagerly as the show starts, scrutinizing the design choices. Max wraps an arm around you, idly playing with your hair as you watch.

Despite the show’s flaws, being curled up with Max like this fills you with utter contentment. You can’t imagine anything better than coming home to his smile and laugh each day.

During commercials, you fetch snacks from the kitchen, navigating the space with ease. Max trails behind to steal bites, ever drawn to food.

You swat his hand away from the chocolate you’re preparing and laugh. “Get your paws off, those are for sharing!”

Max just tugs you close and kisses the protest from your lips. You happily let him devour the sweetness from your mouth instead, the chocolate forgotten.

Finally you collapse back on the couch together, munching and critiquing the show’s poor tile work. Max throws popcorn for you to catch, his aim as impressive as his racing lines.

Your eyes droop as the evening wears on. The cozy penthouse, tasty snacks, and Max’s warmth — it’s the perfect recipe for relaxation.

When your head nods against Max’s shoulder for the third time, he chuckles and clicks the tv off. “Alright sleepyhead, time for bed.”

You make a half-hearted noise of protest but let him pull you up. Max keeps an arm securely around you as he leads the way to the bedroom, knowing you’re prone to stumbling when tired. It makes you feel so cared for.

He even helps you change into your nightgown, his hands impossibly gentle. As you finally crawl under the blankets, you let out a massive yawn.

“Night Maxie,” you mumble, already mostly asleep. He gathers you close and presses a kiss to your hair.

“Sweet dreams, liefje.” His voice is impossibly soft. You float away cradled in his warmth and the knowledge you’re home.

The next morning, you wake slowly to sunlight streaming in the windows and the smell of coffee. Stretching languorously, you take a moment just to soak it in.

Muffled sounds drift in from the kitchen signaling Max is already up and at ‘em. You smile sleepily. The man has the energy of a hyper puppy.

Before you can muster the will to leave bed, Max appears holding two mugs. “Morning schatje,” he greets with a smile. “Thought you might need some caffeine.”

You beam and make grabby hands until he passes you a mug. The rich aroma instantly perks you up.

Max slides in next to you, sipping his own coffee. His hair is adorably mussed and you gently smooth it down before cupping his face and bringing him in for a long, thorough good morning kiss.

When you finally separate, Max looks pleasingly dazed. “Well, that’s certainly one way to wake up.”

You grin cheekily and go back to your coffee. Max wraps an arm around you and you lean into his solid warmth, trading occasional lazy kisses between sips.

Sun streams over your entwined forms as you bask in contented silence. Eventually you stretch and make your way to the bathroom to start the day, dropping a kiss to Max’s hair as you pass.

You smile seeing your hairbrush by the sink, pink toothbrush next to Max’s blue one. Such small signs of your merged lives, but they mean the world.

Refreshed, you return to Max sprawled on the bed with his phone. He immediately opens his arms in clear demand for more cuddles. Laughing, you collapse into them happily.

Nuzzling into his chest, you sigh. “I know I was practically unconscious last night, but just wanted to say again how special it is having pieces of us both around the place now.”

Max’s arms tighten around you. “You being here makes it a home, not just an apartment.” His voice catches slightly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your own suddenly misty. No words can encapsulate what it means to build a life and home with this incredible man.

So you tell him silently instead, with a kiss overflowing with love and promise: I’ll stay by your side as long as I’m welcome.

Judging by Max’s arm anchoring you fiercely to him, that will be a good long while. You melt into his embrace, spirits soaring.

No fancy penthouse or perfect decor could compare to what you’ve found with Max — a home rooted in love, laughter, and devotion.

One look at his tender smile and you know he feels it too. This is everything.

So you’ll happily leave your mugs around the sink and blankets on the chairs, weaving threads of yourself into his space. With each passing day, it matters less whose belongings lie where.

Because home isn’t things — it’s the man gazing at you like you’re his whole world. And you know as long as you’re together, any place will feel just right.

[blindbeta]

Exploring How Toph Beifong Could Be Played By A Blind Actress and Refuting Reasons Some People Believe She Couldn’t

[Image Description: Toph Beifong from Avatar: The Last Airbender. She is waving her hand in front of her face after joking that she spotted the great library, tricking the Gaang only to remind them that she is blind. She rides on Appa who is flying above a desert landscape. End I.D.]

The live-action adaptation of season 2 of Avatar: The Last Airbender is underway. This means people are discussing Toph again, much like they did during pre-production of season 1. I have seen and even participated in promoting the idea of Toph being portrayed by a blind actress. Similarly, I have come across push-back against the idea.

Instead of if Toph Should Be Portrayed by a Blind Actress, Let’s Focus on How She Could

(should and could are bolded for emphasis)

This post will address common misconceptions that serve as barriers to the idea of a blind actress portraying Toph.

A Few Notes Before We Start

These points come from posts on online forums, YouTube comments on videos related to the casting of Toph, and tumblr posts. No one will be specifically called out here, as while these points may be attributed to certain individuals online, they represent much wider views that are shared by many, even without malicious intent. These common misconceptions stem from unchecked ableism and general lack of information. Keep in mind that my intention is not to call out any individual person, as ableism is a widespread, collective problem. The reasons I refuted in this post showed up repeatedly and were not isolated opinions of one or two people.

1. No, it would not be too difficult to find an actress who is Asian, blind, and the right age

[Image Description: Toph as The Blind Bandit uses earthbending to create three pillars of rock that shoot at an angle from the ground and smash into her opponent, throwing him against the arena wall. End I.D.]

This point suggests that it is difficult to find candidates fitting Toph’s description. I suspect this is due to racism and ableism, in that a white and abled person is considered default and therefore believed to be more common, especially by Western studio standards. This is not truly the case. People of color and disabled people are auditioning, especially for the comparatively few roles that seek them out specifically, such as Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Blind Asian people exist. Some of these people are also actresses. Some have backgrounds in dance or martial arts, especially because many actors do similar activities to increase endurance and versatility. Finding a pre-teen or teenager to play Toph would not be as challenging as many people believe, especially those who already underestimate the amount of blind people in the world and their abilities.

Those who argue this point may be under the impression that a blind actress would be out of reach due to low numbers and lack of interest in auditioning. Blind people are auditioning. The reason you don’t see them on screen is because most of them are ignored in favor of abled actors. For example, in this video, Molly Burke discusses not being chosen to play a blind character whom she was told was based on her own life. The actress chosen to play the character was not blind. You can watch it here.

Additionally, Netflix has the ability to hold a widespread casting call. They are not a tiny studio doing productions in someone’s backyard. They have access to a wider pool of actresses than the average person might think, particularly if said person is not familiar with the resources big studios often have at their disposal.

In fact, Netflix is doing just that. Below is a link to their casting call, which encourages blind and low vision actresses to audition.

Link to casting call here with alt text.

2. Some people believe Toph isn’t really blind and therefore the actress who plays her needs to be able to see

[Image Description: Toph as The Blind Bandit using bending, with shots showing her hands and feet. As her bare foot slides sideways across the ground, the camera zooms out to show her sensing vibrations. The image turns greyscale, with circles of white vibrations emanating from around Toph’s body, where they expand and flow outward. End I.D.]

The rationale behind this is probably the same as it is for Daredevil, meaning some don’t consider Toph to be blind because of the way she uses her bending.

An argument could be made that Toph’s powers erase her blindness or that her powerful abilities make her less relatable to the average blind person. However, I suspect that many sighted people engaging with these discussions of Toph’s casting are not also concerned with questions of erasure or relatability. In discussions questioning her blindness, the evidence given mostly centers on Toph’s physical abilities rather than relatability to real blind people.

Her bending aside, Toph is certainly blind. She experiences ableism from her parents and general community. Blindness shaped her life in a lot of ways, even with her bending, which is also influenced by her disability.

We see Toph being guided while running on the airship, needing assistance while walking on ice, and struggling to travel in a desert. She uses her other senses, including hearing and tactile senses. She has limitations regarding how she is able to interact with an unaccommodating world, such as inaccessible reading and writing systems.

There are also lifestyle and cultural implications of blindness extending beyond the inability to see. Being blind is not only about what one can and cannot do, which is true of Toph’s experience as well. Blind people may have different values, experiences with family and friends, different senses of humor, or may place higher value on other sensory experiences compared to sighted peers.

Whether or not Toph is good blindness representation can be argued. However, she is still a blind character. Her blindness influences her whole life, even as she is more than her blindness at the same time. Her life as a blind person is about more than limitations and abilities. Reducing her, and any blind person, for that matter, to only these facets of her experience oversimplifies what it is like to be a blind person.

Claiming that she isn’t a blind character because of her ability to do x, y, and z can be incorrect for a lot of reasons.

Blind people are more than what we can do or what we produce. Our experiences are rich and varied. Our lives are inherently meaningful no matter our abilities or limitations. It is both ableist and inaccurate for sighted people to attempt to put us all into boxes.

Additionally, blindness is a spectrum. [Bolded for emphasis.] You can read about it at the following posts on my blog:

here

here

here

and here.

Here is a good list of legally blind YouTubers with various types of visual experiences.

According to various sources on the blindness spectrum, about 85% to 95% of blind people have some remaining vision:

93% according to RNIB

This Perkins School For the Blind fact sheet estimates about 90 to 95% of blind have some remaining vision

American Foundation for the Blind estimates about 15% of blind people are totally blind and discusses the spectrum of blindness here

The spectrum of blindness is important because our experiences become even more diverse when the spectrum is considered. This means that assumptions about what we can and cannot do become even harder for sighted folks to guess accurately.

This accuracy is important if sighted people are going to try to put limitations on blind people, which they have no business doing anyway. They are not the authority on what blind people can do, what we cannot do, or what is good for us. Only blind people can answer that for themselves.

Lastly, blind people are already used to navigating and interacting with their surroundings. They have had anywhere from months to a lifetime of experience, which would translate better to Toph’s ease with her blindness and confidence in her bending.

While an actor wearing contacts to obscure their vision might stumble around and have difficulty on set, someone who is actually blind could lend Toph’s character a much more relaxed, confident attitude in addition to possessing experience navigating in a way that works for her. She is used to being blind. Therefore, an actress who is also used to being blind brings a lot to the performance in terms of physicality, attitude, and the ability to focus on portraying the character, rather than simulating blindness.

Which leads me into the next point.

3. The idea that Toph doesn’t move like a blind person relies on stereotypes of blind people

[Image Description: A GIF from the episode “The Runaway”. Toph, Sokka, and Aang all con some con artists and cheer after their victory, Toph raising her arms high before snatching the prizes. They all run away. End I.D.]

There is no specific way of moving like a blind person. Like sighted people, the way blind people move may be influenced by many factors, such as level of vision, how long they have been blind, their mobility aid, navigation techniques, familiarity with their environment, level of confidence, feelings of safety, other disabilities, energy levels, cultural factors, and more.

While there are mannerisms that are recognizable to blind communities, there is no one way to move like a blind person. Just as there is no one way to look blind.

The ideas of “not moving like a blind person” or “not looking blind” come from stereotypes of blindness. In fact, these ideas can be so pervasive that blind people who don’t fit stereotypes may be accused of faking. I explore this subject here.

In this video, Sam from The Blind Life discusses the experience of performing blindness or being pressured to act more blind than he is. Link here. He explains while he has some vision, he uses his cane to indicate to others that he is blind. This is one of the main functions of a cane. Sam explains feeling pressure to adhere to certain stereotypes about blindness or risk being accused of faking.

Similarly, in this video linked here, Molly Burke discusses the stereotype that blind people’s eyes look noticeably different from sighted eyes. This includes the inaccurate belief that all blind people have cloudy eyes, blank eyes, eyes that are always closed, or eyes that simply must be covered in dark sunglasses to protect the sensibilities of sighted people. Molly explains that while blind people can certainly have these attributes, not all of us do. Molly laments that the phrase, “You don’t look blind,” is either used to invalidate her or to praise her for passing as a sighted person, which is ableist.

Just as blind people don’t look the same way, we don’t move the exact same ways either. That applies to Toph as well. For example, she prefers to keep her feet on solid ground for bending purposes, orientation, and possibly due to cultural factors valuing stability and connection to the earth.

4. The idea that accommodations would be impossible to provide is rooted in ableism

[Image description: A GIF of Toph and Zuko sitting beside each other on the floor at the Ember Island theatre episode. Toph punches Zuko’s arm. Metaphorically for the purposes of this post, she is punching ableist ideas that have nothing to do with Zuko. End I.D]

Here is a thread I shared in the early days of this blog, wherein the topics of blind actors and accommodations are discussed. The entire thread might also be helpful for this post, as I explore the same points, which shows how common these misconceptions are. While this may seem to be an isolated online disagreement, none of these arguments are new. That is why I believe this topic is important— these arguments about accommodations being too difficult or a burden on others also pop up in conversations about other workforces and other disabilities.

A blind character not being played by a blind actor is one thing. A blind person not being hired for a job they are qualified for due to resistance to providing accommodations is not so easy to ignore, not so seemingly isolated a concern. These barriers don’t only apply to blind actors looking for work. They apply to all blind people looking for work.

That means most of this isn’t really about Toph, nor the opinions of random people online. Instead, I hope to highlight common patterns in ableist thinking and dispel these ideas using a character people care about. This is, of course, in addition to my own desire to have a blind actress play Toph.

With that said, let’s explore what work accommodations might look like using examples of blind actors.

Dionne Quan is a blind actress who has an extensive filmography for voiceover work, including popular characters such as Kimi from Rugrats. In this article from when the character was first introduced, she discusses how she performs. Link.

Quote from the article: “Most of the recording was done in a studio with just a mike and a stand for the script. I had the lines in braille, and I would read them on the way over to get into character. You have to have your bag of tricks ready to go.”

Most of the work Quan discusses involves typical acting stuff. The accommodations given to her are similar to adaptations that might be made in an office setting. Additionally, with all the technology available now, it is easy to make a script accessible through large print, VoiceOver and memorization, Word document instead of a PDF, a Braille display, etc.

And as of August 2024, Quan can add adult Toph Beifong to her list of characters. Which is super exciting and, I thought, an appropriate fact to include in this post. You can read more here.

To continue the discussion of accommodations for actors, I would like to discuss Ellie Wallwork. Wallwork is a blind actress who has performed on Doctor Who.

She describes her experiences on set, such as blocking scenes and using tactile accommodations in this short video from the SeeSaw podcast. Link here.

Transcript:

Elie Wallwork speaking:

“Obviously, markers are just normally flat bits of tape on the floor. I had to have some sort of tactile ones so I knew where I was stepping onto. And it takes longer. It definitely takes a bit longer. I guess the thing that frustrates me about the industry is that sometimes casting directors will think, ‘Well, how could a blind person possibly do this, do that? How could they do stunts? How could they even navigate around set?’ But it’s perfectly possible if you— for example, with the crew that I had on all the productions I’ve been on, they’ve all been really kind, really patient with me and able to understand that, yeah, okay, it might take me five minutes longer to block a scene, but that’s fine because it means it’s authentic.”

End transcript.

You can listen to the full episode here.

Lastly, I find that many sighted people are not generally knowledgeable when it pertains to what blind people can or cannot do. Examples of this lack of knowledge include frequent questions about how blind people read, exist in online spaces, cook, etc—and these are simply from posts on my own blog.

Here is a link to a discussion thread that explores ableist assumptions people often make what blind people are or are not able to do. It particularly relevant for this topic. Link can be found here. Please remember that while I did respond to some folks who expressed opinions colored by ableist assumptions, that post is not about them. Just as this post is about addressing ableism in general rather than from a specific source.

The point is: consider why abled people are so comfortable stating what blind people can and cannot do, when one of the most common questions about blindness is still “how do you use a phone or the internet?”

People who aren’t blind often fail to grasp what our limitations actually are. Many people are still surprised to learn that technology or accommodations exist for us, despite having access to various forms of technology themselves. They struggle to understand that we can live our daily lives, possibly because they personally cannot imagine themselves without the vision they rely on, such as that time a professor asked blind content creator Stephanie Renburg [quote] “How do you live?” when the conversation was supposed to be about school accommodations [Link here].

This brings me to an assertion that is often made when sighted actors obscure their vision in order to play blind characters. It is often noted that it was too hard for them emotionally, mentally, and physically. Because of this reaction, the assumption is made that a blind person cannot possibly perform the role.

For example, in the article linked here, this is stated about Jamie Foxx in his role as Ray Charles. “Some actors, including Jamie Foxx as Ray Charles in “Ray” (2004, best actor) and Blake Lively in “All I See Is You” (2017), have chosen to wear ocular prosthetics, rendering them literally blind during their performances. But this creates a new problem: Unlike real blind people, who can spend years honing their orientation and mobility skills, the blindfolded sighted person becomes lost, confused and frightened with the sudden loss of sight — Foxx told interviewers he began hyperventilating as soon as his eyes were glued shut with the custom prosthetic eyelids that the filmmakers affixed over his eyes.”

Being blind is different from a sighted person temporarily obscuring their vision. Blind people have a better handle on being blind because we’ve been doing it longer. Blindness is part of our lives. Of course blind people are going to have an easier time portraying blind characters. This means most of the concerns people bring up when discussing sighted actors struggling with being unable to see won’t actually apply to blind people who have been at this for far longer.

I also wanted to address the idea that hiring blind actors would cost more, according to the assertion made in that thread about hiring blind actors, which you can read here if you haven’t already. While I can understand why someone might believe hiring a blind actor would cost more, I believe it would actually cost less.

Blind actors can use their own canes or other assistive devices used by the character, which saves money on expensive materials

Blind actors likely already have experience with O&M training, saving money and time that would otherwise be spent training a sighted actor, such as described here

Blind actors don’t need contacts or prosthetics, which may otherwise be used help an actor simulate blindness

And blind actors would have an easier time navigating sets, dancing, or doing required physical activities while blind, which reduces the learning curve that sighted actors with obscured vision need

A few Disclaimers:

1) Blind people learn from our communities and through life experience. While we naturally have more experience being blind, our knowledge is enhanced through learning from other blind people and participating in training designed to improve our life skills. I maintain that a sighted person obscuring their vision for a few hours will not have the same level of experience.

2) Reminder that blindness is a spectrum that a blindfold cannot replicate.

and 3) This post is not to say that sighted actors cannot do well or cannot put effort into their performance. According to the article above, Charlie Cox won an award from the AFB for his commitment to portraying Daredevil. However, just because there are sighted actors willing to put in the work does not mean blind actors can’t. I wanted to include this disclaimer in case someone sees the AFB article I shared and worried I’m trying to disparage actors who have already portrayed blind characters and happened to do a good job. After all, I love the original performance we received from Michaela Murphy, who originally voiced Toph. That doesn’t mean studios should not make an effort to cast more blind actors moving forward, nor does it justify any of the silly or explicitly ableist reasons people give for why sighted actors must be chosen over blind ones.

Let us return to refuting those excuses with the last thing I wanted to address.

5. Some people are concerned that a blind person might get hurt doing martial arts, but so can literally anyone else

[Image description: GIF of Toph dressed in Fire Nation attire. She punches through a rock.]

Kids can get hurt in any kind of sport, yet society doesn’t try to keep children from these activities for their own safety. However, disabled kids—and adults for that matter—are often reminded that we are being kept out of spaces for our own protection. Which we didn’t need, nor ask for.

This need to protect disabled people can be not only infantilizing, but hypocritical as well. For example, a blind person might be discouraged from playing recreational sports in a misguided attempt to protect them. Conversely, structures that keep blind people at risk are allowed to stay firmly in place, such as discrimination around transportation, inaccessible infrastructure, and poverty.

Blind people play sports anyway. Often, these sports carry their own risks of injury, as most sports do. Blind people have the agency to understand this and consent to it. Examples include blind football [link] and goalball [link].

Here is a video of Sadi the Blind Lady discussing goalball with Eliana Mason, a Paralympic athlete who plays goalball professionally.

Transcript: “Goalball is sport for blind and visually impaired athletes. It was created after World War II for blinded veterans and is now a Paralympic sport. The coolest thing about it is that everyone wears eyeshades so no matter what your level of vision loss is—because blindness is a spectrum— it equalizes it. The ball has bells in it and the court is straight with tape over it. It’s on a volleyball sized court. It’s three on three. And basically in offense, we are throwing the ball as hard as we can with a lot of technique involved, about 30 to 45 miles an hour to have it hit the ground and roll and hit the other players on their bodies. And on defense, you are throwing your body out and diving in front of this 3 pound ball and blocking it. So essentially you want to get hit with the ball.”

End transcript.

Getting hit with a ball, especially in the face or stomach area, is going to hurt. That is okay, because as long as safety precautions are taken, pain might be part of the experience depending on the rules and anticipated possibility of injury.

Martial arts and dance, which are backgrounds sought specifically in the Netflix Toph casting call, can also lead to accepted forms of pain or discomfort. While one could argue that sports injuries could and should be preventable, this post is more concerned with the expectation of pain, injuries, and what steps are taken to prevent them, such as protective gear or an experienced coach / teacher.

A blind person auditioning for Toph knows that martial arts will be involved. She will spend time learning choreography, building trust with co-actors, and figuring out works best for her. This structure is similar for blind people playing football or goalball or tennis or fencing or whatever else they want to do.

Lastly, people who aren’t blind also experience pain or injury during sports. Same with martial arts or dance.

The actress who plays Toph might get hurt. She might not. Some pain might even be an expected part of training. That is no reason to exclude a blind person from participating. That is no reason to say Toph couldn’t be played by a blind actress. [Bolded for emphasis]

Lastly, anyone training actors on fight choreography already knows how to do so safely. That fact that this is choreography is also helpful, allowing for memorization of actions and reactions. Conversely, the sports and physical activities I listed above are not choreographed, with the exception of dance, and are therefore less predictable. Therefore, if blind people can get head injuries playing on a recreational blind football team, a blind actress can handle fight choreography.

Closing

Thank you for reading all of this. My points still stand whether or not a blind person is actually cast for Toph.

Too Long, Didn’t Read:

Unchecked ableism can lead to oppression even if it is unintentional

Blind actors exist

A blind actor would better capture Toph’s ease and confidence with her blindness

Blind people can do a lot more than sighted people usually think they can

Blind people also face discrimination and limitations that sighted people may not have considered

Blindness is a spectrum and most blind people can still see something

There is no one way to look or move like a blind person

Accommodations are not that difficult to provide

Hiring a blind person would actually cost less money

Most of the popular reasons people believe Toph cannot be played by a blind actress are rooted in ableism

This post is not only about Toph or actors, but an example of how unchecked ableism can be harmful

For example, low employment rates for blind people, inaccessible online resources, or Toph-related posts shared without image descriptions

Toph Beifong could totally be played by a blind actress

[issysh3ll]

Noises ♡ Chris Sturniolo

Summary: Chris knows how much you love his noises Warnings: SMUT, masturbation, recording, moaning

Chris's phone slips in his left hand. His nervous, sweaty palm is making everything more difficult. Readjusting his grip on the device his thumb awkwardly fumbles with the buttons on his screen.

Ordinarily he would use his right hand when scrolling on his phone but that's not possible right now. His right hand is pre-occupied, gripping around something else. When his thumb finally finds the record button he angles the phone towards himself, the speaker of his phone pointing towards his face.

Wet sounds fill the room from where his right hand is moving steadily over his aching cock. The second this idea had crossed his mind, he had found himself hard and straining against his pants. Now he lies naked in bed with one hand wrapped around his cock and the other recording the sweet noises of his reactions as he begins to pump himself. His strokes are slow, controlled, trying to replicate the perfect rhythm you had given him the last time he saw you.

As his stroke rises along the length of his cock, he stops just below the tip and flicks his thumb up to brush over the sensitive area. A soft moan breaks through his lips, causing a spike on the audio recording in his other hand. Quickly, he moves the phone closer to his face.

"mm—ah" another whine breaks free as he repeats his action. His thumb moving over his tip and swirling through the pre-cum leaking over the pink skin.

As his grip moves down his length again, a heavy breath escapes. A desperate, heavy breath, coated with lust.

"aahh, mhmm"

The microphone in his hand continues to catch more heavy breathing as his right hand moves over his cock. The panting is broken by the occasional groan as he draws too close to his tip. But he's trying his best to hold back.

"Ah— yeah, j-just like that..."

He knows how much you love his noises. Each time your hand is wrapped around his cock your voice is always cooing to him, encouraging him to let out those pretty little noises that make you want to do this for him. He loves it.

So as he records himself, he wants give you as much of this as he can. As many of his sweet noises as he can manage in this special recording. And that's what he tells the recording.

"mmpfh— wan' make my noises for you..."

As the slow strokes on his length continue, he grows more desperate, struggling to maintain the teasingly slow pace he's set for himself. Each breath he releases is punctuated by an eager whimper, begging for more.

"Ah— sh-shit."

His tip is aching for contact as his hand continues to ignore it, stroking only along the length. Chris's eyes screw shut, willing himself to maintain control. But his hips lift off the mattress, thrusting to meet his hand as the desperation grows too much.

"Oh, fuck. I can't..." He pants through broken moans. He can't control himself. It's too good.

The pleasure shooting through his body is overwhelming. The grip around his phone tightens, hand shaking slightly as he loses himself in the feeling.

"Oh my g— ffuuckkk" The curse rips through his open mouth as his hand brushes over his tip. The aching nerves so desperate for attention cause a jolt of pleasure to tear through him almost painfully and a loud groan leaves his lips.

"ngh— aahh"

Tears well up in his eyes as the overwhelming pleasure grows even more. A knot forming in his lower abdomen pulls tight, threatening to snap and he gasps, quickly stuttering out a warning.

"sh-shit. Gonna cum, ohh"

With one final flick of his thumb over his aching tip, a stream of hot cum erupts from his cock. Spraying over his chest in spurts as he whines helplessly with each pump.

"Oh... ahh.. fuck... s'good"

After a few seconds to catch his breath, he fumbles with the screen of his phone and clicks end on the recording. Quickly sending it to you before collapsing back to the bed, exhausted.

Masterlist

[ijustwanttoreadfanfictionplease]

Imaging each Akatsuki member eating out y/n 😊

• Have you ever been eaten out by someone with peircings? That shit can hurt but pain is pein is pain. He will grab your thighs rough commenting about how it's obscene to be participating in this but will still give it his all. Or, his version of all 👀

• "It's only a slight pinch, no? Surely, you can handle the pain prior to pleasure"

• Definitely a clit nibbler and will try his damnest to make sure to edge you until you're crying with snot dripping down your face and drooling

• She knows what to do and how to do it well. Start off with long broad strokes that will turn into whatever she sees you're into. Fast paced and flexed tongue? Done. Slow and heavy soft kitten licks? Done. She's going to get you to cum.

• "It's okay, baby. See? You're enjoying this right? Much better then those /men/. Let a woman show you pleasure."

• Takes a small break to check up on you to see how you're doing. Otherwise she won't stop. She'll want to hear you /beg/ her to stop. Oh please you'll cry, I can't take it! Yes! You! Can! Just one more for Kon-mommy?

• Those long slender fingers are definitely trying to find your g-spot as his nose rubs against your clit, hot panting against your vulva "Please darling, I want to see you cum"

• Lots of praise, will ask you point blank what you like. Will not stop or change pace until you cum undone. He'll lower his tone and you'll hear the appreciation in his voice as he whispers "Beautiful."

• You're cumming once with him and it feels somehow even more intimate than having someone's face in your genitals can be.

• You're riding tonight baby. This man will make you sit there no matter what. Worried about your weight? Worried about looks? Fuck, stop, don't even. This man is pussy hungry. He will spread your lips and burrow in that bitch until he is sloppily making out with your hole.

• There's no talking, just his strong arms wrapped around your legs to hold you in place. If you start rocking against his nose as has his tongue deep in your pussy he'll feel obliged to lend a hand and place his hands on your hips to grip them bitches and rock them harder.

• Will make you cum at minimum twice. He won't stop until then.

• Okay he's like super inexperienced and you'd think the mouths on hands would give him some points.. but they don't. They bite too hard or lick to soft and fingering you I'd difficult as the mouths are, well.. bitey. Regardless, he's excited and thinks he'll win.

• "Gunna give you the best head, hm. Get that vagina so wet and tight for me!" He has the spirit I suppose. It's not going well and you're not really feeling it until he accidently discovers licking your clit at juuuuust the right angle got you a quiet gasp. From there it's go time.

• It'll feel nice but you probably won't cum still. He tried to spread your lips at the end to get a better angle but his hand bit the lip. Youre furious, in pain now, and didn't cum.

• "I won't be partaking in this." Atleast that what he says. As he watches you squirm confused. Why would he be here if he wasn't going to -- oh! A toy!

• He's a little cheater and uses a clit ducking machine along with a vibrating dildo. Will fuck you over and over and over and over and ov - "Ah, how many times is it? 10? We'll shoot for 15 my precious doll."

• You can't walk. You can't talk. Sasori has wrecked you. Ruined you. You may be begging for more next week who knows

• "Come on old man, 100 bucks says I make her cum faster." Hidan makes it a bet with Kakuzu almost immediately. He rushes in a bit too much but god damn is he really doing a number on you.

• He is sweating and panting like a dog in heat while making out with your clit. He wants you to cum now!! There's a bet in place!! But, he gets too cocky when you start ti really get into it and hold his head in place with your thighs. You're about to cum aaaaand "You gonna cum baby?" He stopped . He stopped and asked you a question ; hes not even fingering you anymore fuck!!!

• Takes 10 minutes to come since he keeps moving and stopping when the going gets good. Takes no hints and is just being annoying with it

• Looks you in the eyes while towering over you, "Make it 200." It looks like he's going to eat you and not the way you'd like! Eep! He will absolutely lay you flat on your back and grab your thighs so hard as he pulled you to his mouth.

• This man is CONCENTRATING! Daddy Kakuzu has been around he know what to do and gets down to it. His thick fingers pumping inside you hitting that g-spot, the lewd wet noises as he is liking and sucking in your clit. You can barely contain yourself as your toes curl and your moans get louder. You hear him grunt as he pushes his face somehow more into you.

• You cum within 3 minutes. World record baby. Well, akatsuki record I guess

• This is Tobi everyone, say hi tobi! Tobi is tobi as tobi is no one but Tobi! That's right! He wants to play a game too! Everyone else is playing with you, why can't he? "MY TURN!!"

• Will not take off the mask. Will not finger you. But god damn the sight if your naked pussy is going into the spank bank. Maybe it's time to rethink who knows about obit-- Whats that? You're trying to tell him it's not a game? Oh, this is fun.

• Is thoroughly enjoying the misery of you trying to explain you're being tongue fucked by the others. Wants a thorough explanation. Wants you to talk about what you liked and didn't. His cock is weeping and you will be too if you keep blushing asking if it's really okay for someone like him to hear this from you.

[deansbeer]

hi idk if your requests are open, but if they are could you do vinnie with breeding kink, maybe like semi public

vinnie drags you to a balcony during a party because he’s that desperate have you where anyone could catch you <3

warnings 𓏵 smut | semi-public sex | breeding kink | dirty talk | possessiveness | unprotected sex (don’t be stupid, use the damn rubber) | mentions of alcohol | dom!vinnie.

sticky notes 𓏵 i just realized his bday is coming up soon in july and i have no idea what i’ll do for him :(

the bass from the party thrums through the floorboards as vinnie pulls you up another flight of stairs, his hand warm and insistent around yours. you can barely think straight — haven’t been able to since he cornered you in the kitchen twenty minutes ago, pressing you against the counter while people milled around pretending not to notice. “need you,” he’d whispered against your ear, and that was all it took.

“vinnie, someone’s gonna see,” you protest weakly as he pushes open a door to what looks like a balcony on the third floor. the music is muffled up here, distant laughter and shouting from below feeling miles away. the cool night air hits your flushed skin, making you shiver. or maybe that’s just the way he's looking at you, eyes dark and desperate like he might die if he doesn’t touch you right now.

“don’t care,” he mutters, already crowding you against the railing. his hands are everywhere — tangling in your hair, gripping your waist, sliding under the hem of your top. “been thinking about fucking you all night. watching you dance, seeing everyone else look at you...” his voice drops to that dangerous register that makes your knees weak. “need to put you in your place, baby.”

you should protest more. should remind him that this is his friend’s house, that there are literally dozens of people just two floors down, that anyone could come looking for the bathroom and find you instead. but vinnie’s mouth is on your neck now, sucking what will definitely be a hickey on your skin, and coherent thought is becoming increasingly difficult. “someone could come up here,” you manage to gasp out.

“let them,” he growls against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “let them see how good i make you feel. how perfect you look when i stretch you out with just my cock.” his hands are already working at the button of your jeans, movements desperate and slightly clumsy from whatever he’s been drinking tonight. “fuck, need to be inside you. needa fill you up.”

the words shoot straight to your core, making you clench around nothing. vinnie’s breeding kink is something you discovered early in your relationship — the way he gets possessive and primal, how he loves the idea of marking you from the inside out. usually you at least make it to a bedroom, but tonight he seems past the point of caring about propriety. “vin,” you whimper as he spins you around, pressing your chest against the cool metal railing.

“shhh, baby, i got you,” he soothes, but his hands are anything but gentle as they yank your jeans down just far enough. you hear his belt buckle, the sound of his zipper, and then he’s pressing against you, hot and hard and ready. “gonna make you feel so good, baby. yeah… gonna fuck you so deep you’ll feel me for days.”

you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning too loudly when he pushes in, the stretch perfect and overwhelming all at once. your knuckles are white where they grip the railing, the city lights blurring below as vinnie sets a punishing pace immediately. “mhm, that’s it,” he pants against your ear, one hand braced beside yours on the railing while the other holds your hip in a bruising grip. “take it just like that. such a good girl for me.”

“vinnie,” you gasp, trying to keep your voice down but failing miserably. the angle is devastating, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “someone’s gonna—”

“i don’t give a shit,” he cuts you off, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust. “let everyone know you’re mine. let them hear how good i fuck you.” his hand slides from your hip to your stomach, pressing down slightly. “gonna fill this pretty pussy up. gonna pump you so full of my cum it’ll be dripping you down your thighs when we go back downstairs.”

the filthy words combined with the public setting and the perfect angle have you racing toward the edge fast. “mm, i’m close,” you warn, voice high and desperate. “shit, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“never stopping,” he promises, his rhythm getting sloppier as he chases his own release. “gonna keep you full all night. take you home and fuck you again, make sure it takes. wanna see you swollen with my baby.” the hand on your stomach presses harder, like he’s imagining it already. “everyone would know that you’re mine, that i bred you so good.”

“vinnie!” you cry out, orgasm crashing over you in waves. you clench around him desperately, whole body shaking as pleasure overwhelms your senses. dimly, you hear voices from somewhere below, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“fuuuck, babygirl,” he groans, hips stuttering as your orgasm triggers his. “gonna give you everything.” he buries himself to the hilt as he comes, holding you tight against him as he empties himself inside you. “all mine,” he pants against your neck. “my perfect girl, taking my cum so well.”

you stay like that for a moment, both catching your breath while the party continues below, oblivious to what just happened. when vinnie finally pulls out, you whimper at the loss, already missing the feeling of him inside you. he’s gentle as he helps you fix your clothes, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“we should get back,” you say eventually, though your legs still feel shaky. “people will wonder where we went.”

“again i don’t give a shit, babe,” vinnie says, but he’s already leading you toward the door, his warm palm on your lower back. “just remember what i said. this was just round one.” the promise in his voice makes you shiver again, already anticipating what the rest of the night will bring.

[kxsagi]

hii, hope ur alright! some1 recently requested a rin ff, the one with the calvin klein briefs and i wanted to ask if u could write one like that again but with isagi if thats okay!! thank you <3

“𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞?”

a/n: i loved the rin one so i am happy i can write an isagi one! however, i did make it a little different, with reader and isagi not dating in this one, but rather, just finding each other attractive + isagi def asks for your number after the shoot

listened to sativa while writing this so the title was def inspired by that song

(artist is louvbon on twitter)

you pride yourself on being a professional. you’ve worked in high-pressure sets, shot campaigns for big-name brands, captured images of people whose faces are plastered across billboards and subway walls. but nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared you for this shoot. 

because standing in front of your lens right now, stretching his arms behind his head in a way that makes his abs flex on purpose, is isagi yoichi, japan’s soccer golden boy, international heartthrob, and apparently, the newest face of calvin klein. 

in nothing but boxer briefs. 

you’re holding your camera like it might catch fire, blinking furiously as if that’ll reboot your brain. maybe if you hit yourself hard enough with the lens, you’ll stop staring at the way the light hits his chest. or the subtle line that dips down past his hips. or how the calvin kleins are hanging just an inch lower than necessary to make your job very, very difficult. 

“lighting okay?” he asks casually, running a hand through his already-messy hair. like this is any regular day. like he’s not the problem here. 

you attempt to sound composed, professional. “yeah. uh. yeah, lighting’s great. very… lighty.” 

lighty? 

just kill me, you think. let the studio lights crash down on my head. 

isagi’s lips twitch. “lighty, huh?” 

you don’t answer. instead, you bury your face behind the camera and pretend to fiddle with settings you already fixed twenty minutes ago. you don’t need him knowing he’s throwing you off. he probably already suspects it, but you don’t need to confirm it. 

but of course, he doesn’t let it go. 

he steps closer, slow and easy, like a predator in no rush. “you sure you’re good? you look kinda… flustered.” 

you scoff, stepping back with practiced nonchalance. “i’m not flustered. i’m just trying to work.” 

“you’re blushing.” 

“it’s hot in here.” 

“it’s a temperature-controlled studio. with AC.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. “isagi, can you please just go lean against the wall and look vaguely mysterious? brood. smolder. whatever it is models do.” 

he laughs, laughs, like this is all a joke to him. “i’m not a model.” 

“no, you’re worse,” you mutter under your breath. “you’re an athlete with no business being this good-looking.” 

his eyebrows shoot up. “what was that?” 

“nothing,” you say quickly, lifting your camera again. “pose, pretty boy.” 

he does, finally, pressing his back to the wall, gaze smoldering (probably on purpose), muscles tensing in a way that makes you want to look away and also never stop looking. it’s unfair. he’s not even trying. how is that fair? 

you adjust your angle, trying to stay in work mode. this is your job. you are here to take photos, not to mentally rank how kissable your subject’s lips look from this distance. 

“you know,” he says suddenly, tone light, “you’re the first photographer i’ve worked with who can’t look me in the eye.” 

you freeze, mid-shot. “… i can look you in the eye.” 

“can you?” 

you lower the camera slowly. meet his gaze. mistake. big mistake. 

his eyes are stupidly dark blue. bright and playful and cocky as hell. and there’s a glint in them that tells you he knows. he knows exactly the effect he has on you. 

you click your tongue, stepping back. “you’re distracting.” 

he grins. “is that a compliment?” 

“no. it’s a problem.” 

“is it the abs?” 

“it’s the ego.” 

he laughs again, and it sounds like victory. “okay, okay. serious mode. what do you want me to do next?” 

you inhale slowly, resisting the urge to throw your clipboard at him. “keep the shirt off. lean forward. hands behind your head.” 

he raises a brow but follows your direction. you focus the lens. try to ignore the way his muscles move as he shifts. he looks like a damn sculpture. and somehow, despite being practically half-naked, he still looks so clean-cut, so isagi yoichi. the boy-next-door who just happens to be on the cover of every major sports magazine and now, your camera roll. 

“so,” he says, voice low, “if this wasn’t a photoshoot, would you still be staring?” 

you nearly choke. 

“i– excuse me?” 

“just curious.” 

you lower the camera. “if this wasn’t a photoshoot, you’d be wearing a shirt.” 

“and that would make it easier for you, huh?” 

you blink. “you’re ridiculous.” 

“you’re the one blushing.” 

“you’re the one half-naked!” 

he grins, utterly shameless. “you’re the one who told me to pose like this.” 

you groan, covering your face with your hand. “this is the worst day of my professional career.” 

“nah,” he says, smug, “i think it’s the best.” 

you peek at him through your fingers. he winks. 

you’re so doomed. 

BONUS: 

the shoot finally wraps, and you’re desperately trying to look like a person who wasn’t just mentally derailed for two hours straight. the assistants are packing up, the stylist’s asking isagi about his next match, and you're pretending to be very interested in organizing your memory cards even though you’ve already labeled them. 

isagi walks over with that same relaxed confidence that’s been driving you insane since the moment he stepped on set. he’s dressed now, jeans and a hoodie, thank gosh, but somehow, that almost makes it worse. he looks too normal. too boyfriend-coded. the kind of guy you’d see in a café and immediately text your best friend about. 

“hey,” he says, hands tucked in his pockets. “thanks for today. you made it fun.” 

you glance up from your equipment, doing your best to keep it casual. “oh? you mean despite me almost combusting on the spot every five minutes?” 

he chuckles, leaning slightly toward you. “i thought it was charming.” 

you roll your eyes, lips twitching. “you would.” 

there’s a beat. a quiet moment between you, tucked in the noise of the studio tear-down. and then he scratches the back of his neck, almost shy for once. 

“listen… if you’re not already seeing someone, maybe you could text me some of the shots when they’re ready?” he says, almost too smoothly, then adds, “and maybe, like… something that’s not work-related too.” 

you stare at him, blinking. “are you seriously using the ‘send me the photos’ line to get my number?” 

he shrugs, grinning. “i figured i’d keep it on theme.” 

you hesitate… then pull your phone from your pocket and hand it to him. “fine. but if you send me shirtless mirror selfies, i’m blocking you.” 

“no promises,” he says, typing quickly before handing it back. “i’m more of a candid guy, anyway.” 

you glance at your screen. yoichi isagi ⚽📸 

he even added a little camera emoji. 

you groan. “you’re the worst.” 

“but i’m still getting a text, right?” 

“we’ll see,” you say, walking away. 

and you don’t see it, but he’s smiling the whole way out. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[skyahri]

And Suddenly |BNHA Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Shouta Aizawa, Dabi/Touya Todoroki, and Katsuki Bakugou

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: NSFW themes. Straight up fucking, leading to sex, foul language, you get it. Reader in Dabi's is NOT of sound mind lol.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Shouta Aizawa

He doesn't know what prompted this line of thinking. Nothing had happened, no one had mentioned anything. No, this was all 100% his own doing, and that almost made it worse.

Over the years, you'd occasionally claim to have something called 'baby fever'. There would be days when you'd send him videos of babies babbling, playing, wearing silly outfits, whatever of the sort. You'd tell him your ovaries were aching, that you wanted nothing more in that moment than to have one of your own.

Being the man of reason he is, he'd always tell you that now wasn't the time. Hero work was grueling and your studies kept you busy. You'd assure him that the feelings were always (mostly) fleeting, hormones and all that, and the conversation would end there.

It had always been one-sided, that is, until a few weeks ago when he'd finally gotten a taste of said fever. Let's just say he was not a fan.

Nothing had changed, yet he found himself hyperaware of every little human in his vicinity. It's like his brain did a complete turn around. Brief glances quickly turned into longing stares. He'd internally coo over their tiny socks and bright smiles. Hell, he'd even caught himself waving at a little girl in her stroller the other day and was still living off the high he felt when she giggled and waved back.

He'd only been getting by on the idea that this was temporary. That like you, it'd be all better soon and he can go back to enjoying the simple things in life without his brain badgering him.

But that was weeks ago, and the feeling had only solidified further into his mind.

He tried to reason himself back to normal, but was finding it increasingly difficult to do so. You graduated two years ago and have a great job in your field. He had long surpassed the rookie stage of his career and was thriving. You lived in a decent apartment in a good neighborhood. Money was no longer tight and you'd built quite the safety cushion.

And then there was you. Again, nothing had changed overnight, but he was suddenly plagued by vivid visions of you. How easily he could get you pregnant. How you'd look so sinfully pretty with a round belly. How he'd love nothing more than to take care of you while you gave him the greatest gift he could ever hope to receive.

And he knew you'd love nothing more.

Honestly, he was having a hard time finding reasons not to cave into his desires. Which is how he suddenly found himself in such a position.

He's hovering above you, his red tinted face illuminated by the moonlight. He has your hand pinned to the mattress at an awkward angle, but neither of you are willing to move to fix it. He's darting between your eyes, words caught in his throat and no way to get them out.

Thinking and doing are two very different things, and he hadn't planned on bringing this up at all, let alone right now.

"Don't."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, not quite understanding what's going on. One moment he's rolling on top of you, kissing down your neck and over your collarbones. You're fumbling around, trying to reach for the top drawer of the nightstand when his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

"Shouta, what-"

"Don't bother with it."

He leans down to recapture your lips, but you use your free hand to stop him in his tracks. Your eyes narrow a bit as you try to get a read on him. He usually has little tells that give away how he's feeling, but right now you can't decipher any of them. He looks just as lost as you feel.

"I haven't been taking any kind of birth control."

"I know."

"Then why are you-"

"I want a baby."

Your eyes widen and breath falters. Your hand falls from his shoulder to lay flush against your chest.

"I don't understand. You said we weren't ready."

"That was then, and this is now."

"Shou."

Despite the serious look you give him, your insides are on fire. Sure, the intense and urgent feelings associated with baby fever were always fleeting, but that didn't mean that was the only time you'd felt the desire. You always wanted a family- a husband and kids to love and cherish- and Shouta knew that.

Now here he was, telling you that after a lifetime of friendship, four years of dating, and four more years of marriage, you could finally have what you've always wanted.

He leans back enough to sit on his calves and stare down at you. He seems more sure of himself now. Whatever turmoil he had been going through earlier had subsided, and he was left more confident in his decision. He swallowed hard and fiddles with his hand a bit before deciding to rest both of them on your open thighs.

"I can't stop thinking about it. I thought it would pass, but it just got stronger. I tried talking myself down, but there's nothing stopping us anymore. We're both willing and wanting, so just..."

He's leaning back down, and this time, you don't stop him. You let him kiss you, let him trace his rough hands up your sides, let him claim you with no reservations, all while the condoms sit untouched in the nightstand.

Touya Todoroki / Dabi

Dabi had a tendency to ramble. Sometimes to himself, sometimes to whoever would listen, and sometimes he didn't even realize he was doing it.

Sex was no different.

What he says all boils down to the kind of mood he's in. If he's angry or frustrated, he'll degrade you. He'll call you a whore, tell you that you're desperate and whiney, and will shove your face into the pillow in an attempt to shut you up so he can hear himself speak. If he's in a decent mood (or being generous, as he puts it), he'll praise you. He'll mumble sweet nothings in your ear, tell you how pretty you are, how lucky he is to have you.

All of that is fine. You're more than willing to take whatever he wants to give, but lately he'd taken on an entirely different type of rant.

The first time he mumbled something about getting you pregnant, you didn't think much of it. All men succumb to their instincts at one point or another, and Dabi wasn't excluded from that. But then he mentioned it again a few days later, this time with a little more heat behind it.

You didn't say anything, instead deciding to live in your own little fantasies as long as he wasn't being reckless. Maybe that was a mistake on your part, because it's only a few weeks later that he's completely invested in the idea.

Knees pressed firmly to your chest, he's drilling into you with a new kind of passion. His forehead is against yours, his eyes screwed shut as he clutches at the backs of your thighs. You can't hear all of what he's saying over the sound of skin on skin, but it's enough to have you slightly worried.

"Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up so full."

"Bet I could get you pregnant on the first try."

"I'd take such good care of you."

"I'd be everything he wasn't, give my kids the life they deserve."

Desires to fuck you full have quickly become promises to succeed. Your fucked out brain is urging you to stop him, that he sounds a little too serious right now, but you can't find it in yourself to comply. Dabi is, without a single doubt, completely fucked in the head. This is something you're entirely too aware of and should be the thing willing you to fucking stop him, but it's not.

So you let your mind relax. You throw yourself full force into the feeling of him hitting that spongey spot deep inside. You let him kiss you and touch you and listen to all the little promises he makes.

It's no surprise when he doesn't pull out. You don't say anything when he moves to lay beside you and he doesn't bring it up. Maybe it's some kind of unspoken agreement, or maybe you were thinking too far into what very well may just be a kink. Only time will tell.

Katsuki Bakugou

"Did you seriously not pack any condoms?"

"Why the Hell would I?"

"Is that a serious question?"

You shoot him an incredulous look. He ignores you as he enters the bathroom and begins to strip out of his suit. You follow him, careful not to snag your dress on any of the luggage stacked against the wall.

You glare at him, even as he motions for you to turn around and unzips you. The white fabric bunches at your ankles and he's quick to pick it up and hang it inside the plastic dry-cleaning bag.

"Is that a serious question? You're my wife now, I'm not wearing any more fucking condoms."

"Well, you should've said that before we got here so I could've prepared something else!"

"Why the Hell would you need to do that?"

He scoffs at you and continues hanging his suit up, folding it as nicely as possible to avoid damaging the expensive material. Any sort of frustration you're feeling has been replaced by confusion. You feel like you're having two entirely different conversations.

When he finally turns back around to face you, he's staring down at you like you're the one being unreasonable. Like he doesn't understand why any of this could possibly be an issue.

"So, what? You planned on hitting raw for the next two weeks and just praying for the best?"

"No. I planned on hitting raw for the next two weeks and prayed we'd go home pregnant."

Your mouth snaps shut. Any fighting spirit you possessed is gone in an instant and you're left at his mercy. He places one hand on the wall near your head and sets the other on the counter. He's looming over you, using his size to intimidate you.

"That's what we agreed on all those years ago, right?"

At first, you don't know what he's talking about. You racked your brain for any semblance of the topic, but when you came up short, you couldn't help but think he might be bullshitting you. Just as you're about to ask him for clarification, you remember a conversation you had not long after graduation.

You'd both had sidekick positions lined up right out of high school. Your careers were up and coming and your relationship was strong. While you were happy with the pace things were going, it didn't stop his parents from pestering you about next steps.

It was probably the hundredth time Mitsuki had asked you about grandkids. You'd given her plenty of reasonable reasons why kids were most definitely not in the cards right now- career opportunities, money, not to mention the fact that you were both nineteen and not even married yet- but none of that seemed to deter her.

"If not now, when can I expect some grand-babies, hm? I'm not getting any younger and neither are you."

"How about we focus on getting engaged and married first, then we can start talking kids."

She accepted the answer, albeit reluctantly, and backed off a bit. Later that night Katsuki had cornered you, asking how you had finally managed to get his mother off his back.

"I told we'd have to get married first."

The memory is foggy after so many years, but it's there. It was a passing conversation, an unimportant day, but it's the only time either of you had mentioned a 'when' regarding kids.

"You know, when I said we'd have to get married first, I didn't mean we'd start the same day."

He scowls and closes in on you further. He adjusts his position so you're pushed against the bathroom counter and you're suddenly very aware of just how little clothing you're both wearing. His hands land on your thighs and slowly make their way up. He grips your waist and lifts you onto the cool marble so he can stand between your legs.

"I think I've waited long enough."

Let's just say you end up with two very bold, very pink lines on the pregnancy test a few weeks after you return home.

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Thirteen

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben.

Warnings: Female masturbation, female fantasy, language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, cheesy euphemisms.

W/C: 1,596

A/N: I can only apologise for how long it took me to get this chapter out. I don't really have any excuses, except for the fact that I had a bit of a break, wrote some other ideas knocking around, and then had another break. I wish I could keep a schedule, but they don't work for me. I struggled with this chapter, struggled to push the story forward to get to where it needed to be.

A/N 2: I can't believe it's only day three! As a writer, I, too, forget the concept of time within the story. And it's not until I read past chapters that I realised how slowly time goes by.

The hot water splashed down, and you leaned your head back, getting a face full of the spray.

Was Ben right? Was Dean jealous? Or perhaps he had just been mad. He slept in the next room. A wall was shared, after all. He had to have heard everything. But Dean had no reason to be jealous. He hadn’t shown any inkling that he wanted anything more than platonicness.

Ben knew how you felt about Dean. About Beau. He’d seen all your interactions with the hunter and nearly bitten your head off in Walmart when he found them ‘impersonating’ him. Ben was an enigma. One moment he was flirty and casual, bantering with you, and the next, he was aggressive and damn near violent, threatening anyone that gets on the wrong side of him. And it was him you had fooled around with first. Not Dean. Not that you initially intended to mess around with any of them.

Water ran down your body in rivulets, and your hands followed the flow. Again, Dean, in complete ecstasy, slipped into your mind. Would he grip the shaft tightly? Would he squeeze to feel the intensity of pleasure? Would he stroke his thumb across the slit, rubbing pre-cum across the mushroomy head of his cock?

Below, you throbbed, and again, your mind turned to comparisons. Would Dean be as wide? Would the head of his cock feel so pillowy against your entrance? Would it pulse as strongly? Would he feel as heavy and as thick as Ben?

You shuddered, arousal burning through your body as you tried to wipe those thoughts from your mind. It didn’t feel fair. Dean was his own person. But…Jensen…Jensen was the man who played them all.

Your hand reached for the shower head. It unhooked from the wall attachment, and you changed the head settings. The water sprayed out powerfully in a more concentrated manner.

You gripped the shower head and the shower bar with your other hand. And before you could think yourself out of it, you turned the shower head upside down.

You gasped. A sharp inhale of air. Your hand tightened, gripping the shower bar. The jet of water shooting up from the shower head pelted your clit with intensity.

You bowed your head, hair dripping into the shower floor, pulse spiking as Dean masturbating occupied your mind.

You changed the angle of the shower head, and your knees almost buckled. Your toes curled, and you shook as you fought to contain yourself.

Your pussy clenched.

Your eyes squeezed shut. Dean, touching himself, left your mind, and Ben replaced him. You shook your head, trying to get Dean back. But Ben stayed. And he stood in all his glory, shameless, hand wrapped around his cock and giving lazy strokes, wearing that damn smirk.

Then, his words from yesterday came to mind.

“Would you suck me off as prettily as you suck my fingers?”

And in your mind’s eye, you were on your knees, pleasing Ben, wrapping your lips around his cock. You saw yourself sucking, could feel the weight of him on your tongue, could taste the saltiness of him.

In your mind, you watched as the rapture completely took over Ben. His head leant back, eyes closed, and his fingers fisting your hair. He cursed under his breath as you slowly dragged the man’s soul from him.

Would Dean react the same way? Or would he watch?

Heat swamped your gut at the thought of Dean watching you suck him off. Your body shook, edging closer to that inevitable brink.

You’d please him. Who? All of them.

Ben.

Dean.

Beau.

Beau. With his cheeks tinted pink, and looking at you hungrily sent you hurtling over the edge and crying out, your legs almost buckling from the strength of your orgasm.

The shower head clattered to the floor, continuing to spray upwards. You leant against the steamed-up shower wall.

You hadn’t done that in a while. Not with a showerhead.

*

The TV played in the background. Some football game Ben had put on that Beau was absorbed in. With three men living with you, sports were perpetually on.

After breakfast, Dean excused himself and headed upstairs with a coffee, claiming he needed to decipher the language on the frame’s box, reinforcing the idea that maybe he was mad at you. He’d asked to use your laptop to aid him in his research, and you were compliant, handing him the device and the cable. You had written the password on his hand, desperately trying to ignore the sparks rushing up your arm.

Trying to read with Ben glancing at you occasionally was nigh-on impossible. All you wanted was to relax with a steamy romance between a Rugby player and a sassy fan. At least this one wouldn’t come to life.

Ben nudged you from where he was sitting beside you. You glared at him as he rudely pulled you out of the world where fans have hot instances with insanely built Rugby men.

“What?”

He leaned his head closer.

“If you needed help installing a pipe in your bathroom, you could have come to me.”

What the shit?

You tilted your head in confusion. What the Hell was he going on about?

“You know….”

He kept his voice low so as not to capture Beau’s attention. This was something he wanted to keep between you both.

“I’m just saying you could have come to me.”

You shook your head.

I shake my head and try to get back into my book.

“You need installations in your bathroom? Y’know I’m a dab hand at DIY.” Beau asked, finally turning away from the TV.

“What, no.”

Ben snorted and shook his head.

“Ya hear that, Y/N? Beau is a dab hand at installing pipes in a bathroom.”

Ben’s tone was a little sarcastic for your liking. And whatever he was alluding to, you just weren’t getting. Ben wasn’t one to mince his words, so why was he being so elusive? It didn’t make sense.

You sighed, closing the book you’d barely read anything of.  You placed it down and stood up.

“Ben, could I see you in the kitchen, please?”

You saw Beau’s quirk of his eyebrows in your peripheral vision as you started walking out of the living room.

 Ben followed you into the kitchen. He closed the door behind him, a smirk on his face. You stood there, leaning on one hip, arms folded against your chest.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s gotta stop.”

Ben’s smirk grew wider as he stepped closer.

“Aw, c’mon. I’m only messing. Besides, maybe next time you have a solo flick fest in the bathroom, you should remember that some ears are far more acute than others.”

You stood stock still. Shit. He’d heard everything. That’s why he was teasing the Hell outta you.

“So, c’mon, what prompted this solo session?”

Your cheeks burned. Could you tell him? Probably should. He was only gonna bug you otherwise.

“It was what you said about Dean…”

He grinned wickedly.

“Doll, if a man beating his meat has you wetter than the Pacific Ocean, then baby, I don’t mind doing a little corn shucking just for you.”

You blushed. You actually blushed. Maybe it was the cheesy euphemisms, but Hell, they made you redder than a tomato.

“You gunna listen to him?”

You scratched the back of your neck, unsure. Honestly, you didn’t know what you were gonna do. The thing was, Dean wasn’t the only one concerned. Beau was, too. That meant that Beau thought the same as Dean. Or similar. Beau had mentioned intentions, and it was such a dad thing to say.

“Because, if you did, it’d be real shitty of you.”

Fuck. This was all you needed. Ben would hold a grudge. You knew that. But Dean. Dean had your heart. It was stupid. And yeah, you wanted to make him happy. But the real question was: what would make you happy? And that you didn’t know.

Sighing and easing yourself in a seat, you rested your head in your hands. Your phone buzzed. You slipped the gadget from your pocket. Your brow furrowed upon seeing a message. It was from your mother. Wondering what she wanted, you clicked it open.

Mom: Dear Y/N, Mark mentioned to your father and me that he saw you in Walmart with a man. He thinks it's your boyfriend. Is he? Why haven’t you said anything to me? I’m your mother. Your father and I insist on your presence at dinner tonight, 7:30 PM. Don’t be late. Dinner will be at 8. Your father said texting you was more likely to get your attention. He also said to bring your man. Sincerely, Mom.

Fuuuuuuuuck. You didn’t need this right now. You groaned, letting the phone clatter to the table.

Fucking Hell.

“She can fuck off.” You muttered.

Ben snorted, taking a seat beside you.

“Problem?”

Yeah. At this moment in time, you had too many problems. You were not bringing Ben around your mother and her partner. However, it made you smile at the thought of her clutching her pearls when Ben cussed like a sailor as he spoke with his mouth full. Then it faltered. Ben, behaving as he does, would double down her efforts to get you with Cole. No. It would be best to pick someone else. But who? And would Ben understand? Probably not.

You faced him.

“Yeah. My mother’s invited me to dinner and wants to bring my so-called boyfriend.”

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @freefallthoughts, @realityshifter111, @slvtforhotchner, @hobby27, @grxyveins, @emily-roberts, @jamerlynn, @mimaria420, @kr804573, @just-levyy, @leigh70, @eexphoria

If for some reason you aren't tagged, or I've missed you as I went through to update my tags, lemme know. And A, we'll grumble about Tumblr together, or B, I'll chide myself and update the tagsheet.

[miss-musings]

Crosshair's 10 Most Impressive Shots in "Star Wars: The Bad Batch"

We're now officially three weeks removed from the series finale, so I thought it'd be a fun time to look back at our favorite sniper and review some of his most impressive shots.

Note, I'll be ranking items from "The Bad Batch" TV show only, so there won't be any entries from "The Clone Wars" S7.

I did get a lot of input from folks here and on Twitter, and a lot of people ended up saying the same ones. I put them on here along with a few of my own.

As for how I determined the order, I judged based on a combination of: the distance of the shot, the size of the target, the speed of the target (if applicable), other external factors like light conditions and weather, and "internal" factors like Crosshair's physical and mental state.

You're free to disagree with which ones I picked and how I ordered them. It's all subjective.

Also, I don't proclaim to be an expert in marksmanship nor am I a military sniper. But, I do have a general baseline for how difficult Crosshair's shots would be IRL. I used to go shooting with my dad a lot at both indoor and outdoor ranges, and I was pretty decent at both pistol- and rifle-shooting. So, that's what I'm using to judge Crosshair's shots.

With that out of the way, let's dive in with #10:

10. Killing Lt. Nolan in 2.12 "The Outpost"

I probably wouldn't have put this one on the list for myself, but I had multiple people suggest it should make the cut.

While this shot is very important narratively, it's not very impressive from a purely technical perspective.

I mean, hitting a relatively stationary human-sized target from a few meters away... It's definitely not the most impressive shot on Crosshair's resume.

However, I did feel it was worth adding to the list for the simple fact that Crosshair is physically exhausted and mentally broken in this scene. He basically uses the last of his strength to kill Lt. Nolan, because he immediately collapses right afterward.

Also, Crosshair might be right-handed, but he's pretty good at shooting his pistol leftie. We don't really see the shot hit Nolan, but if you zoom in after his body hits the ground, you can see that Crosshair shot him straight through the heart. He wasn't leaving that bastard alive after everything he and Mayday went through.

9. Lunch tray ricochet in 1.01 "Aftermath"

Even though this isn't a shot in the traditional sense -- considering there aren't any firearms involved -- I had to put this on the list for two reasons.

One, I had multiple people suggest it; and two, because I've watched this scene dozens of times and only recently found out that Crosshair actually hits two clones with his lunch tray.

He initially throws it at the clone Tech was fighting, presumably knocking him down. But then it ricochets so hard that it basically clotheslines another clone who's just standing there, minding his own business. Dude was hit so hard, he was like floating in midair for a split second.

Also, this plays into my headcanon that Crosshair would be excellent at any sports that require excellent aim and coordination. If he was on a basketball team, he'd be a three-point specialist for sure!!

8. Plan 55 ricochet in 3.12 "Juggernaut"

This is the closest thing we get to a trickshot in S3, so I had to include it on the list.

Here, we see Crosshair's quick-thinking and perfect aim take out several troopers at once by purposely ricocheting his shot off the magnetically sealed doors.

As we know from “A New Hope,” magnetically sealed doors/surfaces are no joke. You really have to know what you're doing or someone's gonna get hurt. Thankfully, Crosshair is a freakin' pro at this!

It honestly reminds me of all those crazy pool shots where you have to plan out four or five bounces/angles ahead to get the angle you really want.

7. Downing a spaceship on Ryloth in 1.11 "Devil's Deal"

NOTE: This is the only clip I couldn't readily find on YT. So I included the clip of Crosshair killing Orn Free Taa from the same episode to maintain symmetry in this Top 10 list.

Don't let the clip fool you. The shot I'm actually talking about takes place before this, when Crosshair -- from like 300 meters away, mind you -- takes down a fast-moving ship by shooting one of the engines.

Look, I love S3 Crosshair with all my heart, but his shooting abilities were severely diminished after his time on Tantiss. When I was doing my S1 rewatch and got to this scene in 1.11, I was like "Oh yeah, I forgot Crosshair used to be able pull off crazy shit like this."

It's actually sad how many of his made shots in 1.11 are like an inverse of his missed shots in 3.11. Here, Crosshair easily shoots a tracker onto Hera & company's ship, and later shoots the engine with no problem, despite the speed and distance.

In 3.11, though, he misses CX-2's ship and fails to track Omega back to Tantiss. 😭

6. Shooting Wrecker's knife in 1.01 "Aftermath"

Now we're getting into the really impressive shit! Most of these remaining entries have Crosshair shooting small targets and/or fast-moving ones.

In this instance, it's both. Wrecker throws the knife like this is skeet-shooting or something, and Crosshair just very casually shoots it into a droid.

Have you ever seen someone who was so good at their job/hobby that they make it look effortless? Like they're not even trying? This happens to me sometimes when I watch the Olympics. I'm like, "That's not so hard. I could probably do that." And then I try it for like half a second, and I'm like, "Oh no, those people are insane."

That's how good S1-2 Crosshair is. He makes shooting a fast-moving knife look effortless.

5. His four-kill trickshot in 1.15 "Return to Kamino"

These next three are all no-brainer entries. I think the biggest question will be why I went with the order I did.

Here, we have Crosshair displaying two very important elements of marksmanship/sniping: patience and careful aim.

Crosshair evidently set up at least four mirrors (I counted the ricochets in the shot) well in advance in the exact spots he needed to take down his Imperial squad, if need be. That's some serious foresight and preparation -- to know exactly where everyone would be standing, and have all the mirrors ready to go ahead of time.

He must've set them up even before he brought Hunter into the training room, or Hunter would've seen them and probably signaled his teammates.

He's also hitting a target that seems to be somewhere between the size of a golf ball and baseball from like 10-20 meters. And with his sidearm.

I know everyone loves the hallway mirror ricochet to kill the squadron of battle droids in TCW Season 7, but it didn't qualify. But, honestly, I think this one is more impressive anyway. He hit the first 1.15 mirror from farther away than he does in TCW S7, and he's using his pistol in 1.15 rather than his rifle and scope.

Talk about accuracy!

4. Sniping the tank in 2.03 "The Solitary Clone"

Oh man! I think we all love this one, right? It's just one of my favorite sequences in the entire show -- the framing, the colors, the effects of the dirt flying up behind him.

I love how Crosshair baits the droids to get the exact angle he needs, and the dude clearly has nerves of steel for staring down the barrel of a tank without flinching. I wonder how many times he's done it, considering he seemed to know exactly how to beat them. I'm guessing at least a dozen.

This is another example of "expert making their expertise look effortless," when in reality, we'd all shit ourselves if we attempted to do the same.

Honestly, sometimes I wish we could've had this version of Crosshair face off against Hemlock in 3.15 -- the dude who stared down the barrel of a tank and didn't flinch at the most literal version of "kill or be killed."

3. Stairwell trickshot in 2.03 "The Solitary Clone"

While I love the tank sequence more for the aesthetics, I have to rank the 2.03 stairwell trickshot above it.

That's partly because Crosshair's still physically and mentally recovering from nearly getting choked to death. But, it's also partly because -- just like with Wrecker's knife -- Crosshair is shooting a target that someone else is throwing.

That means he has to adjust to whatever trajectory and speed they throw it at and compensate accordingly, which can understandably be very hard to do in a split-second.

And, in this situation, Crosshair can't even see the puck directly. He's looking at it through at least one or two layers of reflective mirrors. Dude's reaction time is insane!

He also manages to take down at least four or five droids with a single shot, including the tactical droid, which is several meters up the stairwell and into the next room.

I'm not sure if the clones learned any advanced mathematics during their training on Kamino. But if they did, I think Crosshair would've loved geometry and maybe trigonometry too! He would also absolutely kill in a game of pool. I wanna see him go to the SW equivalent of a pool hall, and show Omega that he can hustle people too! He just needed to find a game that would better suit his strengths. LOL

Anyway, as insane as this shot is, Crosshair has two others on his resume that are even more impressive:

2. Saving Omega & AZI in 1.16 "Kamino Lost"

This is one of three entries on this list that *no one* mentioned when I asked for suggestions, but I had to include it. That's because it is -- without a doubt -- the most bafflingly impressive shot Crosshair makes in the entire show.

I have watched this scene dozens of times, and I still have no idea how he knows where Omega and AZI are.

Initially, I thought -- as others did -- that he's using an infrared scope to see their body heat in the water. But, that doesn't appear to be the case.

The only times I can recall Crosshair activating an infrared capability is when he has his rangefinder, which is attached to his helmet. As we see in episodes like 1.01 "Aftermath" and in 3.07 "Extraction," he specifically has to put the rangefinder down in front of his eye to use the infrared option.

No, his scope is just that -- a regular scope. The infrared capability is only attached to his helmet's rangefinder, which he doesn't have in this scene.

Thus, I have no idea how Crosshair is using a regular-ass scope to find Omega and AZI in the dark ocean. The point of a scope is to see better, and I don't know what he might see beside more darkness. AZI's eyes aren't active and, even if Crosshair spots Omega's flashlight, Omega dropped it when she went after AZI, so it's not exactly on her.

I'm willing to believe that Crosshair has better eyesight than the average human in the Star Wars universe or IRL, but his eyesight must be insane if he can see them in the water, even with a scope.

But, whether it's eyesight, some other enhanced sense or just plain luck, Crosshair knows where in the vast, dark ocean they are — not just the angle but the depth too!

It's really hard to tell how far down they are, but I'd say at least 20 meters. And if he is able to see them somehow, he might have to adjust the shot for refraction in the water too.

Plus, unlike the other entries on this list, Crosshair isn't shooting a blaster bolt. He's shooting a cable, meaning he'd have to adjust his shot to accommodate its weight and trajectory once it hits the water. Additionally, with how Omega and AZI are situated, he needs to have the cable hit and latch onto AZI, without hitting Omega in the process, and get the exact angle needed to drag both of them to the surface.

Like I said: I have absolutely no idea how he made this shot. It's definitely the most impressive one he makes in the entire show based solely on external technical factors.

But of course, there is a parallel shot later in the series that's his most impressive one of all...

1. Freeing Omega in 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

I will never shut up about this scene. It's been living in my head rent-free for three weeks already, and will continue to for several months.

This is undoubtedly the most important shot in Crosshair's life: the shot to save his kid and free his family from Hemlock once and for all.

And everything is working against him: It's dark. It's raining. Omega and Hemlock are like ~40 meters away. The target is the binders between their hands, which is like 3-5 centimeters wide, and won't exactly be stationary. Oh, he's using CX-2's stolen blaster, which doesn't even have a scope on it!!!

We the audience get a POV of what Crosshair sees from over his shoulder, and I can barely see Omega's face, let alone her hands!! I said in the previous entry that Crosshair's eyesight has to be better than the average person's because, holy hell, how can he see that?!?

And, even worse, Crosshair is physically and mentally spent in this scene. He had to return to his own personal hell -- the place where he was tortured and traumatized for months -- then got beaten in a fight and had his dominant hand chopped off.

He and Hunter are running on pure adrenaline at this point. They are absolutely hellbent on getting their kid back, even if they die or collapse in the process. They were practically hobbling out of the CX lab together, and when they crouch down on the bridge, Crosshair has to steady himself against Hunter because he doesn't have his other hand.

And, as the final cherry on top of this proverbially shitty sundae, Crosshair absolutely terrified of missing.

A few episodes ago, the guy couldn't hit stationary fruit from like ~15 meters away with a scope in daylight and in a controlled environment. He even tells Omega: "Close doesn't count. It's either a hit or a miss." Because in a high-stakes situation like this, missing your shot could mean death for you or someone else.

Crosshair already feels like he failed Omega because he missed the shot on Pabu. And now, he has to make an even tougher one with every disadvantage stacked against him and her life literally in his hand.

I don't blame the guy for doubting himself.

Thankfully, Hunter and Omega have complete faith in him, and despite everything he's been through in S3, he has faith in himself.

And so, in the shot to end all shots in "The Bad Batch," Crosshair hits his target and frees Omega.

He and Hunter then subsequently turn Hemlock into Swiss cheese before Omega gives Crosshair a much-needed hug, causing me to cry for the 100th time.

I'll admit: as much as I would've loved seeing another mirror trickshot or some other crazy ricochet in the finale (or just S3 in general), this scene is basically perfect.

It also makes for a nice little parallel to the S1 finale, where Crosshair saved Omega's life after she saved his. Here, as he says himself, he goes back to Tantiss to free her because she freed him first.

As someone said on Twitter when I asked for ideas about this list:

"(Crosshair) put his whole heart and soul in this shot, and he didn't miss. He couldn't afford to."

Like I said: this was the shot that freed the entire Bad Batch family from Hemlock forever. So, I think by default, it had to be No. 1 on this list.

*******

Anyway, thanks for reading! It'd be fun to put together another TBB list like this. I guess I'll have to pick a subject first, though, because I don't have any ideas. If you have any, send them my way!

(EDIT: For anyone who’s also on Twitter, give me a follow. @CatchingClassic )

[tehrevving]

Vincent Week Day 3 - Trauma

The last 2 days have been cute and this one isn't lol.

Warning for graphic mentions of human experimentation, and this one is slightly suggestive too.

You awake with a start, heart pounding, body completely wired. The air is thick, stifling, hot and impossible to breathe. The covers have been pulled off completely but you’re still covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You’re groggy. It takes too long to work out what’s happening. Vincent is having a nightmare. A bad one. Fuck.

He’s tangled up in the sheets, thrashing and ripping them. His face is tense, teeth gritted and eyes scrunched up tight. Energy surrounds him, crackling and flickering around his form. A shadow of horns crest over his brow. 

“Vincent,” you call out his name, over and over, as loudly as you can, but he doesn’t respond. You don’t want to have to touch him, it’s better not to, but he doesn’t wake up. Shit. The energy around him grows stronger, hot to the touch. You don’t have much time. You shake him roughly, calling his name out right by his ear, trying everything that you can as the air in the room grows thin, harder to breathe. 

You dig your nails into the scar over his heart, ignoring the scorching heat against your palms. You press harder and all of the energy in the room suddenly fades away as his eyes shoot open. 

You back away from him as quickly as you can, pulling your hands from his body. “You’re safe,” you call out. “You’re here. With me.”

He blinks at you for a moment, eyes glowing and flickering between yellow and red. He shoots immediately out of bed, body almost a blur, collapsing to his knees on the floor. He breathes heavily, curling over himself, shoulders shuddering and body shaking. 

You climb out of bed carefully, kneeling down next to him on the floor, still trying to keep your distance. “It was just a dream. You’re safe, with me.”

He turns to look at you, head cocked at an animalistic angle, glowing gaze peeking out from between wild, dark hair. His eyes are bloodshot and wet, tight with anguish. He looks at you and his face softens slightly, the set of his jaw growing less tense. He straightens out his body slightly, sitting up on his knees. 

“Do you want to be touched?” you ask softly, letting him lead. 

He nods slowly and falls into your outstretched arms. His head buries into your shoulder, arms crushing you to his chest. You kiss his cheek and rub your hands across his back, trying to soothe him. He sobs, chest shuddering against your body. You comfort him the best that you can, but it’s difficult, his trauma running so deep it’s impossible to untangle.

You hold him until his body stops shaking, clinging tightly to his shoulders as he suddenly lifts you up. He carries you to the bed and lays you down, propped up against the headboard. He collapses onto you, face pressed to your chest, ear over your heartbeat. He curls around you, legs tangled with yours and his arms against your skin. 

You kiss his hair and run your hands through it, gently working out the tangles from his thrashing. You rub his back gently, telegraphing all of your movements. He relaxes against you with a shudder, his weight pressing you into the pillows. 

Eventually he speaks and you’re surprised, usually he doesn’t tell you about his nightmares. His words are muffled, mumbled against your skin, but you can still make them out. “Reeve showed me the scan today,” he says softly. 

You freeze. Vincent is immune to geostigma, of course, and Reeve, well the WRO, have been desperately trying to find a cure. Vincent had offered to help, but you’re not exactly sure how. You’d been worried it might dredge up some of Vincent’s buried trauma, but he’d wanted to help and you both trust Reeve to be understanding. You know that Reeve had given Vincent some sort of full body scan, to see exactly what’s underneath his skin, but you haven’t seen it, you didn’t know that it was ready. 

“It was revolting. I am disgusting, an abomination,” Vincent murmurs into your skin, the distaste in his voice clear. 

You press your hands to his shoulders in the best attempt at a hug that you can in this position. Vincent turns and looks up at you, making eye contact. You hold his gaze, whatever he’s about to say is important. 

“I was awake when he cut me open and took out my organs,” he whispers, voice haunted. “I listened as he weighed them and took notes. I felt them grow back, slippery, uneven and wrong. I was awake each time he took them out, listening to the weights reduce until there was nothing resembling humanity left.”

You hold him silently, trying not to react. Tears prick behind your eyes but you hold them back. He’s staring right at you and you know that letting them fall would just make him feel worse, stop him from continuing to open up to you. 

He raises up from your chest. You can’t quite read the look in his eyes. “This body is abhorrent, repulsive,” he shudders. “It is good only for one thing.” His hand finds your cheek, the curl of his fingers brushing your jaw. He leans in, warm breath ghosting over your throat. “Allow me to bring you pleasure,” he begs, clawed hand sliding to your waist. 

It’s wrong, you know that, but you don’t know what you should do. It can’t be wrong to let him do whatever he wants, whatever might make him feel better. You nod uncertainly as his body sinks lower.

[actual-changeling]

some early fluffy msr featuring once again a very tired scully and a worried mulder. if i end up writing more vignettes like these i might start posting them on ao3. this is set a few days after the first pfaster incident.

—

Mulder should really wake her up.

Not only is sleeping on the desk incredibly uncomfortable—speaking from a lot of experience—but he also knows that her first reaction to realising she fell asleep at work will be shame. She is slumped over in her usual chair, angled towards him and with her back to the door; every now and then she makes a little noise and buries her face deeper into the cradle of her arms.

Her blazer has ridden up her back and her blouse with it, revealing not soft skin but a deep-blue, slowly healing bruise. There are several more littering her entire body, and Mulder has caught her wincing or hissing in pain more times than he can count, swallowing the needle of guilt that comes with it. The memory of her sobbing into his chest is at the forefront of his mind, impermeable and achingly bright, and he regrets not shooting Pfaster dead right where he stood.

Scully had insisted on going back to work and shrugged off any and all attempts at getting her medical attention, eventually telling him to 'leave her alone or so help me god'. Not wanting to push, he had, and yet, seeing the shadows under her eyes match her bruises more and more, he wishes he had said something—anything—if just to make sure she is not hurting more than can be avoided.

It is not difficult to guess what exactly is keeping her up at night, and this is not the first or the last time a harrowing experience haunted them all the way home. Nightmares are as much part of the job as paperwork, and he would carry it all for her if he could.

Mulder watches her lips part for a sigh, a week's worth of fatigue finally catching up with her, and his indecision disappears entirely. He quietly pushes back his chair and tiptoes around their office, first taking the phones off the hook, then switching off their cellphones too. If anyone wanted something from them (and 'anyone' was almost exclusively Skinner), they were going to have to wait.

After locking the door, he turns off the ceiling light, picks up his coat, and gently drapes it over her shoulders; the heavy fabric wraps around her like a cocoon, making her appear even smaller than she already was. Shifting for a few seconds, Scully seems to adjust to the new weight and influx of warmth, but she quickly settles again with sleep softening her features. Hesitantly, Mulder reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, disproportionately endeared by the content noise he gets in response.

In the late afternoon twilight, her red hair is littered with specks of gold, and he cannot resist the urge to run a palm over the back of her head to smooth it down further. Leaning in, he presses a tender kiss on her temple, murmuring "_sweet dreams"_ before he can second-guess himself.

Mulder knows he cannot change what happened or the lingering trauma she is inevitably struggling with, but he can allow her to get the rest she needs, if just for a little while, his gaze never straying far from her. No uninvited visitors disturb her peace, and he busies himself with expense reports and filing while she naps. 

The sun sets, the moon rises, and a handful of hours later, he catches her lashes fluttering and fingers twitching as she finds her way back to consciousness.

Contrary to his initial assumption, Scully doesn't seem to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable, but rather leans back and pulls his coat tighter around herself. Her eyes are clear, and he can spot the beginning of a smile tugging on her lips. He breathes against the sudden wave of anxiety washing over him, worried that he somehow overstepped.

"Better?"

Scully nods, letting out a puff of air and looking away as a blush rises to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she whispers, extending her arm to take his hand, which was starting to make a mess of the files without him noticing. Mulder squeezes it in return, his thumb unconsciously drawing circles along her knuckles. Unsure of how to deal with the emotions surging between them, he bites back the joke on his tongue and settles for honesty instead.

"If you ever—you can call. Anytime. Odds are I'm probably up anyway, and if-" he stumbles, mentally preparing himself to see her walls slot back into place, but she is meeting his gaze with steady, familiar affection. 

"If that's something I can do, please. Let me."

Scully squeezes his hand one more time before pulling back, carefully pushing herself upright. His coat is swallowing her, merging her with the creeping shadows on the wall, and her hair is a flame, drawing him in like a moth to the light. His light. 

"Dinner? Your choice."

Mulder smiles, recognising the offer for what it is: gratitude and affirmation wrapped in one.

"Let's go."

(When Scully calls him later in the early morning hours, they end up falling asleep together, and seeing her lively and infinitely less tired at work is worth the phone bills he continues to amass over the next few weeks.)

[mcrdvcks]

Down Bad - Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: Amina finds herself meeting The Bad Batch as she accompanies Rex to Ord Mantell. After deciding to watch the group for any adverse effects after removing their chips, circumstances cause her to overstay her welcome.

Word Count: 9.0k+

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Jedi Original Character

Notes: hello! so this is my first time using tumblr (at least, posting on tumblr), but i decided i wanted to try my hand at posting on here instead of just ao3. i have a few other series that haven't been transferred from ao3 yet, but if you would like to check it out, you can find the link on my masterlist! <3

Series Masterlist → Chapter 2

AO3 Link For Chapter

Times were tough, tougher than they had been in the last 3 years. With the empire taking over, and the Jedi being hunted down, now was certainly not the best time to be alive.

Amina got out of the ship, making sure it was properly locked and secured before making her way to where Rex was, at Cid’s place.

She was finishing up a few mechanical issues and damages they sustained, and it was a relaxing activity. But it also made her think about Anakin and Tatooine. Life was easier when they were slave children, and while she’s glad to have made it off of that planet all those years ago, maybe life wouldn’t be so difficult now.

Or so depressing.

She pulled the hood over her head, her dark brown hair now dyed an auburn color to try to hide who she was.

Amina Skywalker, a Jedi- formal Jedi.

She walked into the small rundown shop, watching as Rex kneeled down in front of a small girl. “I’ve met many clones in my time, but never one like you.”

The girl stepped forward, moving closer to Rex. “You’re a generation one.”

“Now how’d you know that?”

“From the lines on your face.” The girl stated.

Rex chuckled, and looked back to the other 4 clones, “yeah, I guess I’ve been around.”

“You got that right.” the larger clone said, before groaning and holding the right side of his head. “Tech, I need one of those med patches.

Tech responded, “you used the last one.”

Rex stood up as Amina walked further into the room, “what’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing. It’s just a headache.”

“Which are becoming more frequent.” One of the 4 other clones said.

Amina tilted her head, realizing that it was Echo, one of the 501’s clones, who Anakin, Rex, and some other clones had rescued.

“Is that so?” Rex said slowly, his hand slowly reaching down to his holster.

“If you’re concerned about the so-called inhibitor chips, don’t be. Our deviant nature appears to have impeded their functionality. Except in Crosshair.

Amina reached for her gun underneath her poncho, as Rex became more cautious, “you’re telling me you haven’t removed your chips?”

“No, not yet.”

Rex moved his poncho away from his holster, his hand hovering over his blaster.

The clone in the bandana stood up from the stool, “Rex?”

“Those chips make you a threat to everyone around you. Even her. You’re all ticking time bombs.” Rex said, angling himself into an attack position.

“Take it easy, Captain.” Bandana said, holding his hand out.

“What’s in your head is more dangerous than you can imagine. I’ve seen what happens when the chip activates, and I don’t want to bury any more of our brothers. Trust me. It is not something you can control. I couldn’t. It’s a risk you do not want to take.”

Bandana’s eyes widened, before looking down at the young girl. “How do you suggest we get them out?”

Rex moved his hand away from his holster, “good question. I’ll be in touch.” He walked out of the place while Amina followed silently. Better to not say anything now to those clones, just in case they recognize her and try to shoot her down.

---

Amina tapped her foot on the ground as they waited for the Bad Batch to arrive. She didn’t like this, didn’t want to risk getting shot again by clones who want to kill her.

But Rex said he trusted them, and that only helped relieve her tension slightly.

Soon, the Bad Batch’s ship landed as Rex and Amina walked over, with Rex wearing his armor and holding his helmet underneath his left arm, and Amina still wearing her black poncho.

Bandana, or Hunter as Rex told her, walked up to Rex first, shaking his hand.

“Right on time.” Rex said.

“How’s a junk planet gonna help us?” Wrecker asked.

The young girl came up to Amina and looked up at her. Amina kneeled down to the girl’s height. “Are you a friend of Rex?” She asked.

Amina nodded, and slowly pulled her hood off her head, revealing her face to the young girl. "I am," she confirmed, offering a warm smile.

The girl's eyes widened in surprise, and she took a step back. "You're... Amina Skywalker?" she whispered, awe evident in her voice.

Amina’s eyes widened, “Yes. And you are Omega.”

Omega nodded slowly, still processing the revelation. "I've heard stories about you. About your brother, too." Her gaze flickered between Amina and Rex, curiosity and uncertainty mingling in her expression.

Amina offered Omega a reassuring smile. "Well, not all stories are true, but I'm here now. And it's nice to finally meet you, Omega."

Omega returned the smile tentatively before glancing at Rex. "Why didn't you tell us she was coming?" she asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and accusation.

Rex sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It was... complicated," he admitted. "But she's here to help."

Hunter, the leader of the Bad Batch, approached the group, his sharp gaze assessing Amina with caution. "I hope you know what you're doing, Rex," he said gruffly.

Rex nodded solemnly. "I do. And I trust her."

Amina crossed her arms, “I should be asking you all that question. Because as far as I’m concerned you might just shoot me at any time.”

Rex looked over at her, “well, that’s what we’re here to take care of.”

Amina slowly brought her gaze away from the 4 clones and over to Rex, stiffly nodding. Rex nodded back, “follow me.” he said, putting on his helmet.

They walked on an abandoned starship as Rex spoke up as they got to the edge of it, “Bracca may not be much to look at, but it has exactly what we need. I had my inhibitor chip taken out on a Jedi cruiser just like that. That’s where we’re heading.”

Wrecker spoke up loudly, “then why’d we land all the way over here?”

Hunter motioned quickly, “everyone down.”

Everyone got down, watching a small ship in the distance, “that’s why.” Rex said.

“It’s the Scrapper Guild.” Tech said.

“They control this entire planet. We need to keep out of sight from their patrols.” Rex gestured with two fingers, “let’s move.”

The group made their way into the destroyed cruiser, with Amina staying in the back of the group, and Rex and Echo at the front.

They made their way through the wreckage and jumped up onto one of the intact starship’s ledges.

“Whoa.” Omega whispered. “It’s much bigger up close.”

They started walking over a piece of metal that acted as a bridge over a small pool of water. “This is an original Venator-class ship from the first batch off the line.” Rex told Omega.

“First off the line, huh? Just like you, Rex.” Wrecker added.

Amina followed behind Hunter and Tech as the two of them stopped. Hunter looked at the water.

“What is it?” Tech asked.

Hunter looked at the water for a few moments more before continuing on, “stay above the waterline.”

The group walked over a small bar of metal before finally entering the damaged starship.

“The last time I was aboard one of these it didn’t end so well.” Rex said, shining his flashlight as they walked through the crowded hallway, filled with damaged pieces of the ship.

“If the inhibitor chip isn’t something you can control, how’d you get yours out?” Echo asked.

“I… had help.” Rex replied.

Amina nodded to herself, Rex told her how Ahsoka was the one who practically saved Rex, taking out his inhibitor chip after Order 66 went through.

She shuddered to herself, telling herself to stop thinking about it otherwise she’d go down a rabbit hole of emotions and memories.

Rex suddenly stopped as a splashing sound was heard. “The medical bay’s at the other end. Wrecker, grab that cable.”

Wrecker kneeled down and held part of the cable, “this? W-why? W-w-what are you gonna do with it?”

They set up the cable as Rex, Echo, Tech, Hunter, and now Omega climbed the line. “Nicely done.” Rex told Omega, as she landed on her feet.

“You’re up, Wrecker.” Hunter said into the comms.

“Uh… yeah, my head doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m fine. You guys go without me.” Wrecker said, backing up slowly from the ledge.

“You can do it. Just keep your eyes on the cable.” Omega called out.

Wrecker groaned, before finally grabbing onto the cable and crawling underneath it. The line clicked, as it dipped down. The line clicked again. “That was close.” Wrecker said, before the line broke off, and fell straight down.

“Wrecker!” Rex yelled.

Everyone looked down, as Wrecker hung from the line, only because his foot got tangled.

“Are you all right?” Rex called.

“No! Smells awful down here!” Wrecker yelled back.

The light Omega was shining helped them see a large moving figure in the green water. “What’s that?” Omega asked.

“Wrecker, start climbing.” Hunter said.

“Why?” Wrecker nervously asked.

“Hurry!” Omega yelled.

A tentacle grabbed Wrecker’s body, bringing the line further down, until Wrecker was quickly brought into the water.

“Wrecker!” Omega yelled once again.

“Grab the cable. Get him up.” Hunter said.

Wrecker got pulled out of the water slightly as he cut the tentacle that held him. Wrecker slowly started to climb as Rex, Hunter, and Tech started to pull the line. “Faster! Pull faster!” Wrecker yelled.

The creature got ahold of Wrecker once more, with one tentacle on each of his legs. “Whoa, whoa!” Wrecker yelled.

Wrecker was pulled underneath the water as the three fell to the ground, since Wrecker wasn’t holding onto the cable anymore.

“Wrecker!” Rex called out, as they looked at the water, searching for bubbles or any sign of life. The water slowly bubbled as Wrecker grabbed onto the cable.

“Pull!” Omega yelled.

They started to pull up as Echo started to shoot the creature. Soon, the creature went back into the water and Wrecker was pulled up, with Rex helping him onto the ledge.

“Makes you miss battling clankers, doesn’t it?” Rex asked.

Wrecker groaned, “yeah.” He slowly got up as the group made their way down the hall and Amina finally jumped across the water and caught up.

Rex and Tech lifted the door as everyone entered and looked around the med bay. “This will do nicely.” Rex said.

“I would no longer call this medical bay a sterile environment.” Tech stated.

“Do you prefer to use the facility on Kamino?” Rex asked.

“This will do nicely.” Tech said.

Echo set down his helmet, “I’ll calibrate the surgical pod.” The power turned on, the pod lighting up.

“Time to get scanned, Wrecker.” Tech said.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Tech placed the metal piece on Wrecker’s head as he looked at his datapad. Hunter and Omega walked to the other side of the room as Hunter put some of their things on the ground.

Amina stood next to Echo as he worked with the surgical pod. He shortly glanced up at her and then back down, “how are you doing? With… everything?”

She sighed, “fine, I guess.”

“Do you know what happened to your brother?”

Amina quickly turned her head to face him before trying to put on a neutral face. “As far as I know, he died on Coruscant.”

The memories of the burning Jedi temple, along with the 501st attacking her, leading up to her and Padmé going to Mustafar as she watched Anakin burn on the shore with Obi-Wan standing over him. She lost her brother that day, even if he’s still alive, wreaking havoc on the galaxy.

Amina only knows he’s alive due to a few of her sources and a gut feeling. He’s out there somewhere, a pawn in Palpatine’s game.

Echo nodded, sensing she didn’t want to talk about her brother before moving on, “what about Blu?”

She looked down, “I don’t know.” Blu was her clone commando, and since she worked frequently with Anakin and Obi-Wan during the Clone War, most of their clones knew each other. “I was on Coruscant when Order 66 went through. I think Blu was on Pluvekk.”

Amina softly nudged him, “I’m sorry that you had to go through what you did. I never saw you after what happened at the Citadel.”

Echo looked down for a moment, his expression somber. "It was a difficult time for all of us," he admitted quietly. "After the Citadel, I... well, I wasn't the same. It took a lot to come to terms with everything that happened."

Amina nodded, understanding all too well the weight of the past. "It changed us all," she said softly. "But we're still here, aren't we? Trying to make sense of it all."

Echo glanced up at her, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. "Yeah, we are," he agreed. "And we're lucky to have each other."

Before Amina could respond, Tech’s data pad beeped, “I think I found something. Ninety degrees from his right orbital floor, below the parietal and temporal intersection- ”

Wrecker growled, as he took off the metal piece from his head, shoving it into Tech’s chest, “get that away from me.”

Omega leaned in closer to Wrecker before looking back towards everyone else, “something’s not right.”

“We need to speed this up.” Rex said.

Echo tapped a few more buttons on the control panel as it turned on.

“You boys got lucky. Very few clones were immune to the effects of Order 66. It’s… rare.”

Hunter looked over at Rex, “when the regs attacked the Jedi on Kaller, we didn’t understand why.” Hunter, Rex, Omega, and Amina walked to the back of the room, “we couldn’t save the general, but at least we helped the Padawan escape.”

Amina felt the energy in the room shift as Wrecker started to pick Tech off the ground, “you’re in direct violation of Order 66.” He threw Tech into a wall and picked up a blaster.

“Wrecker?” Omega cautiously asked.

Rex quickly took his blaster out of his holster, shooting a stun blast. But Wrecker hit the gun out of Rex’s hand before it hit him.

Rex, Amina, Hunter, and Omega ducked behind a crate as Echo grabbed a sheet of metal and ducked with them.

“He’ll destroy the equipment if we don’t get him out of here.” Echo said.

“You’re all traitors.” Wrecker yelled, still shooting his blaster in their direction.

“We’ll draw him out. Omega, stay with Tech.” Hunter said. He quickly stood up and threw a large container at Wrecker.

Hunter, Echo, Rex, and Amina ran out of the med bay. Her and Rex hid behind a piece of metal sticking out of the walls of the corridor. They waited for Wrecker to come out when Rex turned to her, “you need to get out of here.”

Amina whispered, “are you insane?”

“Go, general. I’ll contact you on comms when he’s subdued.” Amina glared at him as he continued, “do you even have your lightsaber.”

“No. I left it on the ship. It’s a hazard to have it on me.”

“More than enough reason for you to go.”

Amina looked at Rex before sighing, “fine. But you owe me Captain.” she said, quietly walking off and finding a place to hide. She knows Rex means well, so for now she’ll stay hidden.

From her vantage point, she could hear the echoes of blaster fire and the distant shouts of her comrades. Rex had insisted she leave, but every fiber of her being screamed at her to stay, to fight alongside him. But she knew he was right. Her presence would only complicate things further. So, she gritted her teeth and waited, her hand trembling as she clutched her blaster tightly.

Minutes felt like hours as she strained to pick up any sound that might indicate the outcome of the confrontation. She felt a wave of fear come over her, the source of it close by. Amina rounded the corner hearing distant talking.

“But, Wrecker, I’m your friend.”

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

Amina lifted her blaster and shot a stun bolt at Wrecker as he fell to the ground. Rex quickly came to Amina’s side.

She shrugged in response, “when have I ever followed orders, Captain?” Rex shook his head as she walked into the room and kneeled down next to Omega, “hey, are you alright?”

Omega nodded slowly, “I… think so.”

Amina helped Omega to her feet, offering her a reassuring smile. "Let's get you out of here," she said gently.

Omega nodded, her eyes still wide with fear. "Thank you," she whispered, clinging to Amina's hand as they walked towards the med bay.

---

Wrecker was placed in the pod as Tech worked on the control pad to take out his inhibitor chip.

“Is it supposed to take this long?” Echo asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been on this end of it.” Rex replied.

A few seconds later Tech announced that the procedure was complete. The bed was moved out of the pod as Omega walked over and lightly pushed Wrecker. “Wrecker.” She moved him again, “Wrecker! He should be awake by now.” Omega looked over at Tech.

“He is alive, but his vitals have not stabilized. We won’t know more until he regains consciousness.”

Everyone glanced at each other as Rex and Hunter walked to the back of the room. “This could be a while. Why don’t you take Omega topside and get some air?” Rex asked Hunter.

“No.” Omega said firmly, as the two turned towards her, “I’m staying until he wakes up.”

Amina raised an eyebrow at Omega, impressed by her firm stance as Omega pulled a chair closer to the pod and sat down.

Everyone found a place to sit as they waited for Wrecker to wake up. Amina sat outside in the hall, force levitating a small metal ball she kept with her.

It was something Padmé had gifted to her, saying it would help with her anxiety and boredom. She remembered scoffing at Padmé telling her about anxiety, she was a Jedi, and a Jedi cannot have emotions clouding their judgement.

But, she and Anakin never followed along with the rules and customs of the Jedi.

“He’s awake!” Omega yelled.

Amina walked into the med bay as did Rex who was leaning against the door frame. “Oh. You made it.” Tech said.

“Welcome back.” Hunter told Wrecker, his hand on his shoulder.

“One chip down. Three to go. Who’s next?” Rex held the metal headpiece as he looked at the rest of the guys.

---

Amina and Rex decided it was best for her to stay with the Bad Batch for a little while longer, only until they are alright from the procedure. But, in the time they conducted it, Amina quietly made her way back to Rex’s ship and retrieved her lightsaber.

She held it in her hand, its weight familiar. She let out a sigh, before hooking it to her belt and making her way back.

“Stay out of trouble.”

“Funny. I was gonna say the same to you.”

Amina hopped on the cruiser ledge, both Hunter and Rex glancing over at her. “Where did you go?” Rex asked.

She shrugged, “getting my lightsaber. Don’t worry about me Captain, I’ve made it this far.”

Rex rolled his eyes before putting his helmet on, “yeah, that’s a surprise.”

Amina shook her head and patted Rex’s shoulder before going back into the cruiser and to the med bay.

---

"It's going to be alright, Padme," Amina said, her voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them. She shared a glance with Obi-Wan, their eyes communicating a mixture of concern and determination as Padme let out another agonized scream.

Obi-Wan placed a reassuring hand on Padme's forehead, his expression focused. "Just a little longer, Padme. You're doing great," he encouraged.

Padme's grip on Amina's hand tightened, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fought through the pain. "I can't do this," she whispered, her voice laced with exhaustion and fear.

Amina squeezed Padme's hand gently, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "Yes, you can," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "You're the strongest person I know, Padme. You can do anything."

Padme smiled at her, barely recognizable because she started to scream once again. Soon, a baby started to cry as the medical droid briefly showed the baby to Padme.

“Luke.” Padme said, as the medical droid handed the baby to Obi-Wan and he held the young boy closer to Padme. She brushed a finger on his cheek, “oh, Luke.”

The labor continued, and a few moments later, the droid held another baby.

“It’s a girl.” Obi-Wan said.

“Leia.” Padme said, almost sadly.

Amina grabbed the baby from the medical droid, holding the girl and moving to Padme’s left side.

Padme glanced at Amina, and then back at Obi-Wan, “there’s good in him.” She took multiple deep breaths, “I know. I know there’s… still- ” Padme took one last breath before her head tilted to the side. Luke started to cry louder, as if sensing his mother died right in front of him.

Amina took a shaky breath, willing the tears to stay back as she looked down at Leia. She knew, deep down, that she may never see them again. The twins were her only connection to Anakin, and she just knew that they would be taken away from her for their safety.

And she was right.

---

Her comm beeped, taking Amina out of her mediation, “Hunter, we’ve got company.” Tech said.

“Is it more scrappers?” Hunter replied.

“No, it’s the Empire.”

Amina made her way to the deck, where Tech, Hunter, and Omega were. Hunter looked out the window with a pair of binoculars and sighed, “it’s Crosshair, all right.”

“He won’t be able to detect us. I’m blocking their scanners.” Tech replied, waving his data pad.

“That won’t stop him. Come on.” They ran out of the deck and to Echo and Wrecker, who had old bombs and weapons.

“How many troopers we talking about?” Echo asked.

“Three attack shuttles’ worth.” Tech replied quickly.

“We already got what we came for. Let’s get to the Marauder.” Wrecker said, holding two large items on his back.

“They’re already on board the cruiser. We need a covert way out.” Hunter said.

“They’ll do a forward-to-aft sweep. We can alternate corridors. Come on.” Echo replied.

They made their way through the corridors, with Hunter and Echo at the head of the group. “Talk to me, Tech.” Hunter said.

“I’m trying to tap into the regs’ comms so we can monitor their movements.” They heard faint banging as Hunter closed his fist, turning to the left.

“Someone’s coming.” Hunter said quickly, as they walked backwards to hide behind the wall. They waited as the troopers passed right in front of them, walking away without noticing the group.

Tech’s data pad beeped, “I’m in.”

“All squads.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Push the targets towards the hangar. We’ll pin them down.”

“Roger that.”

Omega stepped forward, “aren’t we headed to the hangar?”

“Not anymore.” Hunter responded, “we’ll cut through the artillery deck.”

They made their way to the artillery deck, void of any life. Tech and Wrecker looked out of the open spot in the wall. Outside where they were was only a large pit filled with the wreckage of other ships.

“Uh… Okay, I’m not going out that way.” Wrecker said.

The door banged open, “there they are.”

Hunter was at the ready quickly, pointing his blaster at the troopers as everyone else followed along. Amina quickly pulled her hood over her head and pointed her blaster as well.

“Stand down.” A trooper in grey gear said, holding a large automatic blaster.

Another door opened from the other side of them, showing more troopers in grey gear. “Tapping our comms to track our movements? So predictable.” Crosshair said.

Wrecker scoffed, “nice to see you too, Crosshair.”

Tech spoke quietly to Echo, “Echo, scomp in and reroute reserve power to the cannons.”

“If these cannons fire, this whole deck will collapse.”

“Exactly.” Tech responded.

“Look at you all, scavenging like rats. How pathetic.” Crosshair hissed.

“Why come after us?” Hunter inquired.

“You’re traitors.” Crosshair motioned for a few troopers to move into position.

Hunter, Omega, and Amina took a quick glance behind them as Amina gently placed a hand on Omega’s shoulder, guiding her to behind her on her left side.

“Done.” Echo said.

“Crosshair, wake up. You’re being controlled by an inhibitor chip.” Hunter said.

Omega moved in front of Amina and spoke loudly, “he’s telling the truth. The Kaminoans put chips in all the clones. Remember what I told you in the brig? You can’t help it.”

Crosshair took a small step in response, as Hunter moved in front of Omega. “Aim for the kid.” Crosshair ordered.

Hunter pushed Omega into Amina as Amina guided Omega back behind her. “Your issue’s with me, not her.”

“Hurry up.” Wrecker whispered.

“Systems online in three, two, one.” Tech said.

“I suggest you drop your weapon.” Crosshair spoke, at the same time as Tech.

A cannon fired causing troopers to fall backwards. Hunter shot at the troopers behind them, “go!”

Metal started to fall from the ceiling as Amina and Hunter shot at as many as they could, with Omega joining in with her energy crossbow.

“Look out!” Hunter yelled, as he grabbed Omega and brought them to the ground.

Tech, Wrecker, Echo, and Amina ran out of the way before metal fell on top of them. They all got up and started to run to the door, when a trooper with a flamethrower stood in front of them. The group pointed their blasters as the trooper turned on the flamethrower.

“Whoa!” Wrecker said, before grunting and throwing one of the large bombs at the trooper, knocking them out. “Direct hit. Yeah!”

They made their way out of the artillery deck and to the ion engine chamber, getting onto the small ledges on the wall.

Hunter went out first, followed by Echo, Tech, Omega, Amina, and then Wrecker, who stood in the doorway. “The ion engine chamber? Why’d you bring us here?” Wrecker asked Tech.

“Because this is our alternate egress off the cruiser.”

Wrecker groaned, “I don’t even know what that means.”

They all kept their backs to the wall, in order to not fall down into the chamber as Omega turned to Amina. “Why don’t you use your lightsaber?”

Amina glanced over at Tech, who was a bit further ahead of the two of them, and Wrecker, who was a little bit behind since he was carrying the carton of explosives. "Because it makes me and everyone else a risk," she replied to Omega's question, her voice calm but firm.

Omega nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "But you're a Jedi. Shouldn't you use it to protect us?"

Amina sighed, her gaze drifting to the floor briefly before returning to Omega's earnest expression. "Being a Jedi isn't just about using a lightsaber. It's about knowing when not to use it, too. Sometimes, the best way to protect others is by not drawing attention to yourself."

Omega nodded slowly, absorbing Amina's words. "So, it's like being invisible, but still being there to help when needed?"

Amina smiled, impressed by Omega's insight. "Exactly. It's about finding the balance between action and restraint. And since I’m skilled in other areas, using my lightsaber is the last resort.”

They made it to a part of the engine chamber where they had to slide down a circular path. Hunter went down first, followed by Echo, and Tech.

“We’re almost there. A little further.” Hunter said, as Omega and then Amina slid down.

“I didn’t think you meant we’d be escaping through the engine.” Echo looked over at Tech.

“I could not have been clearer.” Tech retorted.

“Whoa, I’ve never been inside an ion engine before.” Omega said, looking around the engine shining her flashlight around.

“It’d be weirder if you had.” Wrecker panted out, still carrying the crate of explosives.

“These chambers are quite the engineering marvel.” Tech said, as they climbed up part of the engine, “this blast primer coating is capable of withstand- ”

Wrecker shoved Tech off the ledge, “no one cares! Keep movin’.”

The group had made it to the end of the engine, the darkness of the outside shrouding them.

“Well? Now what?” Wrecker asked.

Tech climbed onto the ledge Hunter was on to get a better look outside when a blaster shot hit right next to him.

“Try again, Hunter.” Crosshair yelled. “I told you before, you’re surrounded.”

“Double back.” Hunter ordered, as they made their way down the engine. Then, a loud rumbling was heard all around them, making them stop.

“What is that?” Omega asked.

“Sounds like the engine’s coming online.” Hunter replied from above. “But that’s not possible, right?”

Tech took out his data pad, “technically, it is. I restored the ship’s main power core when I accessed the central system, which means the engines can be activated.

Another loud rumble was heard the engine starting to shake, “Crosshair wouldn’t do that, would he?” Omega asked.

Echo placed his hand on one of the pieces of metal, “how much time do we have?”

“I estimate less than two minutes.” Tech answered.

A blue light started to emerge from the ion engine as Omega looked around, “what do we do?”

Wrecker turned around excitedly, “uh, what about Plan 7?”

Echo shared a look with Hunter, “Plan 7 has nothing to do with this situation whatsoever.”

“Well- well you think of something?” Wrecker said, taking the crate of explosives off of his back.

“Can we use the explosives from the armory to disable the engine?” Hunter asked.

“It won’t cause a large enough reaction to affect the thermal chamber. But if we place a series of charges around this cone, we may be able to break away from the cylinder while destabilizing the core.” Tech responded.

“Break away? You mean fall? All the way down?” Omega asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

“It’s that or be incinerated.” Echo looked over at Omega.

“Everyone take an explosive. Tech, Omega, we’ll do the middle, Amina can do the top.”

She nodded, as everyone grabbed one explosive and Amina grabbed two, force jumping to the top to place each one.

The engine came on, “everybody, get down!” Wrecker said, before pressing the detonator.

As the explosive charges detonated, sending shockwaves reverberating through the engine, the Bad Batch braced themselves for the impending chaos. Metal groaned and screeched as the cylinder housing the ion engine began to break away from the rest of the ship.

Everyone fell down, as Tech yelled out, “hold on!” Then, once they had separated from the engine, they began to fall, as everyone grabbed onto something. The part of the engine hit the ground, before tipping and falling again, breaking in half.

“Hunter, we landed on the port side. What’s your status?” Echo asked Hunter through comms.

“We’re by the engine, and we’ve got company. Meet back at the Marauder.”

Echo nodded, as he looked around. Wrecker and Tech were next to him, but Amina was nowhere to be seen.

“Amina!?” Echo called out.

“Over here!” She yelled out. Somehow, whether luck or karma, a piece of metal landed through her right ankle, leaving her trapped on the ground.

It didn't feel bad right now, but it could just be the adrenaline. Or, the fact that she's had much worse injuries. Amina gritted her teeth, trying to push past the initial shock of having a piece of metal pinning her ankle to the ground. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. The wreckage of the engine was strewn all around her, metal debris and sparks filling the air.

"Echo, I'm pinned down!" Amina called out, her voice strained with pain.

Echo hurried over, followed closely by Wrecker and Tech. They skidded to a stop beside her, their eyes widening at the sight of the metal impaling her ankle.

"We need to get her out of there," Echo said, his voice urgent.

Wrecker moved forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over Amina. "Hold still, kid. This is gonna hurt."

Amina nodded, bracing herself as Wrecker reached down and gripped the piece of metal. With a grunt of effort, he pulled it free. Echo and Tech quickly moved in to support her as Wrecker tossed the metal aside.

“Ouch.” She responded, as the two helped her stand up. Amina looked up at Tech and Wrecker who stood by each other, as she leaned on Echo. “It’s honestly not that bad.”

"You sure you're okay?" Echo asked, his voice soft.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Amina replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She didn't want to worry Echo or anyone else unnecessarily. "Just a scratch."

Echo didn't look convinced, but he nodded, choosing not to push the issue for now. Instead, he turned his attention to their surroundings.

"We need to find a way back to the Marauder," he said, scanning the wreckage of the engine. "Tech, any idea how far we are from it?"

Tech pulled out his datapad and began analyzing their location. "It's about a kilometer to the west," he reported after a moment. "We'll have to navigate through the wreckage to get there."

Wrecker cracked his knuckles, a grin spreading across his face. "Sounds like fun."

Amina couldn't help but roll her eyes at Wrecker's enthusiasm for danger. "Let's just get moving before Crosshair and his goons show up again."

With Tech leading the way, they started picking their way through the twisted metal and debris of the engine wreckage. Amina winced as she put weight on her injured ankle, but she pushed through the pain, determined not to slow them down.

As they made their way through the wreckage, Amina found herself falling into step beside Echo. He glanced down at her, his expression still worried.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again, his voice low.

Amina nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I told you, I'm fine. Just a little sore." She shook her head, reminiscing. “One time, me and Blu were flying to Hecaya and Separatists shot us down. I ended up with two pieces of metal to the gut.” She let out a small laugh, “Anakin wasn’t happy.”

She trailed off, gulping. The smell of burning skin, Anakin’s cries of pain, and his yellow eyes burned into her mind.

Amina wanted to remember the good parts, how whenever she and Anakin had a rotation off, they would go flying around Coruscant. Then, they would go to Padme’s apartment and eat dinner together, finishing the night with tea.

She would end up going back to her room in the Temple, but usually Anakin would stay with Padme.

She wanted, more than anything, to remember those good times, and not Anakin looking at her with thinly veiled anger. He was her older brother, they grew up together, were slaves together, then brought to the Jedi together.

But she couldn’t get his last day out of her head, no matter how hard she tried.

And it’s not like she could talk to anyone, the only people who know are Padme, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and herself.

Padme’s dead, and Obi-Wan and Yoda are in hiding, leaving her with brewing emotions she doesn’t not what to do with. She was trained to bury them inside of her because that’s the Jedi way.

But the Jedi were flawed, so how can she still abide by their rules and teachings?

Now, as she walked beside Echo, she couldn't help but wonder if she was destined to follow in Anakin's footsteps. Was she doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past, to let her emotions consume her until there was nothing left but darkness?

She knew Master Windu and even Master Yoda were as wary of her as they were of Anakin. She was reckless, headstrong, and had too many emotions. At least, that’s what they said.

But yet, out of all of the Jedi out there, she was one of the few survivors. At least she had that on Master Windu.

They made their way up the ledge, the Marauder right in front of them when they saw Hunter laying on the ground.

Amina made her way on the ship as Echo leaned down over Hunter, “Hunter. Wake up.”

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker asked, holding his own blaster and Omega’s crossbow.

“He was shot in the chest plate.” Echo added.

“We have to get him on board.” Tech said, looking through Hunter’s visor.

“Incoming!” Wrecker announced, shooting at the troopers.

“Got him. Let’s get out of here!” Echo said.

“Go, go, go!” Wrecker kept shooting at the troopers as Echo helped Hunter onto the ship.

Amina powered up the ship and once the doors closed, flew up and away. Tech glanced over at Amina, who sat in the pilot’s chair. She gestured for Tech to sit in the co-pilot’s chair as blasts flew nearby.

One similarity between her and her brother was that they were both great pilots. Or, as Obi-Wan said, reckless pilots who might give him a heart attack one day.

As she maneuvered the Marauder through the chaos of the battle, Amina couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Flying was where she felt most alive, where she could forget about her troubles and just focus on the moment.

Tech glanced over at Amina from the co-pilot's chair, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure you're up for this? Your ankle- "

“I don’t need my feet to fly.” She said, as Hunter and Echo came into the cockpit.

“Any sign of that bounty hunter?” Hunter asked.

“The only vessel in our scanner is Crosshair’s and he is right on top of us.” Tech responded.

“It’s getting hot back here!” Wrecker yelled from the back as he manned the guns.

“Prepping to jump.” Amina said.

“Not without Omega.” Hunter said, turning to face her and Tech.

“The bounty hunter who took her is long gone. We’ll have no chance of finding them if Crosshair shoots us down.” Echo responded.

“Rear deflector shields are failing.” Tech said, as Amina continued to fly the ship.

Hunter let out a sigh before giving in. “Make the jump.”

Amina pressed a few buttons before pushing the lever up, as the Marauder went into hyperspace. After a few moments, she let Tech take over as she went to find a med kit on the ship.

Her patch work wouldn’t be great, but she had to stop the bleeding somehow. This is the one time she wishes it was a blaster shot or a lightsaber injury since it cauterizes the wound, but she’s found herself to be unlucky since everything went down.

Echo went through the computer they had on the ship, “your description of the bounty hunter is a match to one from the Republic’s files.”

“That’s him.” Hunter said, coming up behind the chair Echo was seated at.

“Cad Bane.”

Amina’s head snapped up, as she shakily stood up and walked over to the computer where Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker were.

She looked at his picture, “we had a lot of run-ins with him during the war.”

Echo continued, “he was responsible for attempting to abduct Chancellor Palpatine.”

Amina felt her blood run cold. She never wanted to hear his name again, but that was impossible since he was the Emperor and a Sith lord.

“First the bounty hunter on Pantora and now this guy? Why are they after the kid?” Wrecker asked.

“Because she is more valuable than we realized.” Tech announced, coming out of the cockpit.

“What do you mean?” Hunter looked over at Tech, who was looking at his data pad.

“I further analyzed Omega’s genetic profile and discovered she has pure, first-generation DNA.”

“Whoa!” Wrecker said, as Echo stood up. “Wait. W-w-what does that mean?”

“All clones were created from a host named Jango Fett. While our genetic structure was modified for growth acceleration and obedience, Omega is a pure genetic replication.”

“How many clones like that exist?” Hunter asked.

“To my knowledge there’s only one other. A male clone code-named Alpha, later referred to as Boba. Since he disappeared at the start of the war, that makes Omega the sole living source of Fett’s raw genetic material.”

“If she’s vital to the Kaminoans’ cloning operation, they must have put the bounty on her.” Echo added, looking over at Hunter.

“So how do we find this bounty hunter?” Wrecker asked.

“Tech, check with Cid. See if her contacts know anything. We’ll keep monitoring comms.” Hunter said.

---

Amina took off the bandages she put on not too long ago and grabbed new ones. She didn’t want to waste the bacta patches the group had, so settled for bandages around her ankle, hoping that eventually, the bleeding would stop.

Echo walked through the hall and into the cockpit, “yeah. Cid knows all about Bane but not how to find him. She said we’re on our own.”

Hunter pressed a few more buttons when a faint voice sounded out.

“Come in. Come in.”

Hunter and Echo turned their chairs to face each other, “Anyone?” Omega’s voice asked again.

Wrecker got up quickly, “Omega!”

“Omega, are you there? Omega!” Hunter asked quickly.

“It’s long-range. I’ll try to boost the signal.” Echo answered.

“Is anyone there?”

“Omega, do you copy?” Hunter asked.

“Hunter? I’m here. I got away, but you have to hurry.”

“Where are you?”

“I… I-I don’t know where I am.”

“Hang on, kid. We’re coming for ya!” Wrecker yelled out.

Echo sighed, “the signal’s too weak to establish a direct connection trace.”

Tech stepped closer to Echo, “Omega, we need a relay of your position. Try to create a power surge. Can you find a panel nearby?”

“There’s one by a door. It looks like the ones on Tipoca City.”

“That’s good. First, see if you can activate it.”

“It worked. Now what should I do?”

“Next you will need to reroute the circuits to overload the main grid.” After a few seconds of no response, Tech called Omega’s name, “Omega? Do you copy?”

“Let me go!”

“I still can’t get a good read.”

“Hunter, I need you!”

Hunter pushed Tech as he stepped closer to Echo, “Omega! Omega!”

They looked around, suspecting that something happened to Omega’s comms. A few moments later, Echo looked behind him, “I think I’ve got her. She’s in the Lido system.”

“Where in the Lido system?” Wrecker asked.

“I’m pinpointing the exact coordinates. Hang on!” They flew downwards until going back into hyperspace.

Quickly, they flew onto the planet and searched the skies until finding an escape pod flying. Tech and Echo quickly connected the pod to the Marauder. Wrecker opened the hatch, “Omega! Are you in there?”

“Wrecker!” Omega climbed up the ladder with her handcuffed hands until Wrecker pulled her up.

“Aw! Good to have you back, kid.” Wrecker said, holding her up in the air before setting her down and hugging her.

After Wrecker let her go, she took a quick glance at Hunter before leaning into him. Hunter hissed quietly, his chest bandaged from the shot, before kneeling down and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay, Omega? Are you hurt?”

Omega sniffled, “why is this happening? Why are the Kaminoans after me?”

Echo rubbed the side of his neck, “Hunter, you have to tell her.”

Omega glanced back at Echo before turning back to Hunter. “You’re valuable to them. More than all the other clones. Even more than us. You’re different.”

“Different? How?”

---

She held her lightsaber up, her blue contrasting with the red of Vader’s. She grunted, “An- Anakin!”

Vader's mechanical breathing filled the air, a haunting reminder of the man he once was. Amina's heart pounded in her chest as she faced him, the weight of their shared past hanging heavy between them.

“Anakin is dead.” Vader said, swinging his lightsaber as Amina blocked it with hers.

“I know you’re in there, Ani. I know there’s still good in you.”

He swung his lightsaber again, as Amina blocked up, turning around and backing up.

"You were a Jedi, Anakin. You wer- are my brother," she said, her voice breaking with emotion. "And I refuse to believe that you're lost to me forever."

An intense energy crackled in the air as Vader raised his lightsaber, the crimson blade humming with malevolence. Amina held her own lightsaber steady, the familiar weight of it grounding her in the midst of her turmoil.

"I am no longer Anakin Skywalker," Vader replied, his voice cold and detached. "That name holds no meaning for me now."

Amina's heart sank at his words, but she refused to back down. She knew there was still goodness buried deep within him, waiting to be reignited.

"Anakin, please," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know you're still in there. I can feel it."

Vader's masked visage betrayed no emotion as he advanced towards her, his every step echoing with the weight of their shared history.

"You cling to false hope, sister," he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "The Jedi are gone, and so is the man you once knew."

Amina's grip tightened on her lightsaber, her resolve steeling against the onslaught of doubt and despair. She refused to believe that her brother was lost to her forever, no matter how dire the circumstances seemed.

“And soon, you will be gone too.”

As Vader swung his blade towards her, Amina met it with her own, before he pushed her to the ground, her lightsaber rolling away from her and his at her neck.

He raised his hand as she closed her eyes and heard the swing of a mechanical arm-

Amina rose up from the floor of the Marauder, wincing at the pressure she put on her ankle. She tried to calm her breathing and her racing heart as she leaned against the wall.

Was Anakin really Darth Vader? Were her assumptions right?

She ran a hand down her face and clutched her right wrist where a bracelet sat. Her and Anakin made matching ones when they were first brought to the Temple. It was a simple rope bracelet with a small japor snippet.

As she pondered the implications of her dream, a soft voice broke through the silence, pulling her back to the present moment. Hunter and Omega stood before her, concern etched into their features as Hunter watched her with gentle eyes.

"General, are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft and soothing.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, though her voice held a hint of uncertainty. "Just... had a bad dream, is all." Amina toyed with her bracelet, holding the japor snippet.

Hunter's brow furrowed slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he nodded. "Nightmares can be rough," he said softly, his tone understanding. "If you need to talk about it, I'm here."

Amina's smile softened at his offer of support. Despite only knowing him for a short time, she found herself appreciating his kindness and empathy. "Thanks, Sergeant," she murmured, grateful for his presence.

Omega, standing beside Hunter, looked between the two of them, a curious expression on her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

Amina gave her a small smile, “yeah, why?”

“You have… red on your ankle.”

Amina leaned over her legs, looking at her ankle, the bandages seeped with blood once again. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just need to put more bandages on it.”

She took off the bandages as Omega hissed quietly, since the rest of the group was asleep, “that doesn’t look okay.”

Amina shrugged, “it’ll be fine, a piece of metal with through it. Looks worse than what it is.”

Omega looked up at Hunter, “can you look at it?”

Amina opened her mouth when Omega looked back at her with big wide eyes. She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine,” she relented, her voice resigned.

Hunter nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Of course, Omega. Let’s take a look at it.”

Omega’s face lit up with relief as she stepped aside to give Hunter space to examine Amina’s ankle. She sat down next to Amina as Hunter quickly went away to get the med kit.

Amina sighed, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. She wasn't used to letting others take care of her, especially not someone she had only just met like Hunter. But her ankle was throbbing, and she knew she needed help if she wanted to be able to walk properly again.

Hunter returned with the med kit, kneeling down beside Amina and Omega. He opened the kit and began to clean the wound gently, his movements careful and precise. Amina tried to suppress a flinch as he touched the tender skin around her ankle, but Hunter noticed her discomfort.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice low. "I'll try to be more gentle."

Amina shook her head, offering him a small smile. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

Omega looked over at Amina, lightly tugging her arm. “Are you going to be staying with us now? Or are you going to go back with Rex?”

Omega's question hung in the air, drawing Amina out of her thoughts. She glanced down at the young girl, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered her response.

"I... I'm not sure yet," Amina admitted, her voice quiet. "I haven't really thought about it."

Omega's eyes widened in surprise, her expression hopeful. "But you could stay with us, right?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Amina's heart clenched at the earnestness in Omega's voice. She wasn’t quite sure where she belonged anymore. Before it was with Anakin and Shmi on Tatooine, then the Jedi and her master Be Pa'dor, and now no one.

"I... I'll think about it," Amina said finally, offering Omega a small smile. "But for now, I'll stick around. At least until I figure out what to do next."

Omega's eyes brightened with relief at Amina's words, a grateful smile spreading across her face. "That's great!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "I'm glad you're staying with us." Omega wrapped her arms around Amina’s waist as she hugged the young girl back.

“Looks like that metal rod went completely through the ankle.” Hunter spoke up.

Amina winced as she glanced down at her injured ankle, the throbbing pain intensifying with Hunter's observation. She took a deep breath, trying to push aside the discomfort as she focused on the task at hand.

Hunter rummaged through the med kit, his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched for the necessary supplies. "We'll need to clean the wound thoroughly and apply some bacta patches to promote healing," he said, his voice matter-of-fact.

“You don’t have to use the bacta patches. I know they’re hard to come by now and I don’t want to waste them on this.”

Hunter paused, considering Amina's words. He glanced down at the med kit in his hands, the bacta patches glinting in the dim light of the Marauder. Amina's concern for conserving their limited medical supplies touched something within him, a reminder of the harsh realities they faced in their line of work.

"Are you sure?" Hunter asked, his voice gentle as he looked up at Amina. "Your ankle looks pretty bad. We don't want it to get infected."

Amina nodded, her expression resolute despite the pain etched on her features. "I'm sure. We need to save those bacta patches for emergencies. This... this isn't an emergency."

Hunter studied her for a moment, his gaze searching her face for any sign of hesitation. But Amina met his eyes steadily, her determination unwavering.

"Alright," Hunter said finally, his tone conceding to Amina's wishes. "We'll clean the wound as best we can and bandage it up. But if it starts to get worse, you let me know, understood?"

Amina nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Got it, Sergeant."

With that settled, Hunter set to work, carefully cleaning and bandaging Amina's injured ankle. Amina gritted her teeth against the pain, her jaw clenched as she fought to keep still. But Hunter's touch was gentle, his movements precise as he tended to her injury.

Once he had finished bandaging her ankle, Hunter sat back on his heels, a satisfied expression on his face. "There," he said, his voice soft. "All done."

Amina flexed her ankle experimentally, testing the range of motion. The pain had dulled to a throbbing ache, but she could tell that Hunter's ministrations had helped.

"Thank you, Hunter," she said, meeting his eyes with a grateful smile. "I appreciate it."

Hunter returned her smile, “anytime," he replied, his voice quiet. "Just... take it easy on that ankle, alright? We don't want you making it worse."

Amina nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "Don't worry, Sergeant. I'll try not to do any more acrobatics for a while."

Hunter chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. "Good. We wouldn't want to have to carry you around everywhere."

As they shared a laugh, Amina felt a sense of camaraderie settle between them, a bond forged in the midst of danger and uncertainty.

She looked over at Omega, who had fallen asleep leaning against her, her head resting on her shoulder. It reminded her of when she would lean against Anakin when they were younger, or even when her and Ahsoka would sleep with their heads on each other’s shoulders during battles.

As Hunter put the medical supplies back into the box and into the compartment on the ship, he came back to Omega still sleeping on Amina’s shoulder and Amina’s head on the young girl’s.

[allnightstay]

Day 3 - Prank

Prank Gone Wrong

Summary: Naruto thinks he's gotten to the point where he can prank Kakashi but little does he know...

Lee: Naruto

Ler: Kakashi

** I love a little sensei/student moment. Hope you enjoy!

Naruto spent the entire morning, bright and early, setting up a ground-based booby trap that he would eventually lure his Sensei into during their upcoming practice. He was very confident in his trickery as the day had been April 1st, the all-well-knowing April Fools Day.

The goal of this practice was for Naruto to evade Kakashi for a total of 10 minutes, using whatever means necessary for him to accomplish the task.

Kakashi gave him a head start, counting to ten before going after Naruto, knowing his level should make this quite an easy mission. Kakashi counts to ten, and heads into the forest.

Naruto on the other hand, went straight for the location he placed his trap, thinking he'd be laughing at his Sensei being trapped for ten whole minutes before letting him go.

Within moments, Naruto found himself hiding for what felt like way too long. Deciding to move, Naruto shoots up for a higher branch to try and spot Kakashi.

Meanwhile, Kakashi had been right behind him the entire time.

"Boo." Kakashi said rather bluntly, scaring the ever living sh*t out of Naruto, who screams and jumps down, running at full speed.

"Crap." he thought, "How long was he even behind me for??" Naruto felt even more determined to lead his Sensei into his trap. He circles around, knowing Kakashi was right on his tail, and moves in a way that he wouldn't get caught but maybe Kakashi will.

Kakashi does the same move.

"Dammit!" Naruto says to himself, finding another maneuver to reattempt his trap.

Kakashi is suddenly out of sight, making Naruto feel uneasy. Where did he go?

Boom!

"What the??" Before Naruto even realized what happened, he found himself dangling upside, feet tied up and... awww man. He'd been caught in his own trap.

"How!?" he yells, they weren't even that close to the trap when he was struck.

"You really think I didn't notice your trap from the beginning? Come on Naruto, I'm much more perceptive than you think apparently." Kakashi says, sitting next to Naruto with the latest edition of Make Out Paradise.

"Nawww man!! I had everything planned out perfectly!" yelled Naruto, "This is totally unfair!!"

Kakashi closed his book and stands in front of Naruto.

"Unfair? What's unfair is you thinking you could ask for a training session only to think you'd be fooling me. It is April Fools, Naruto. You of all people would be the one to try something like this." Kakashi says, poking Naruto's stomach.

Naruto shudders and squeals a sound Kakashi has never heard before.

"Hmm. How much time do we have left? About 7 minutes. Naruto, you do realize you have 7 minutes to get away right?"

"Seriously?? Kakashi Sensei can't you just untie me? The knot is too complicated from this angle." Naruto asks. Technically his hands are free. He could just untie himself but he did set up the trap to have a rather difficult knot tie.

"Try it yourself. This is the training you asked for." Kakashi says, poking him in the ribs this time, thinking of something rather funny to try instead.

Naruto laughs and moves his arms to block himself, "Aha Kakashi Sensei, I can't get out if you keep on poking meheheAHAHAHA!! KAKASHI SENSEIHAHAHAY!!"

At this point, Kakashi has full blown started tickling Naruto's upper body, deciding this would be his punishment for what he tried to pull on him.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get yourself out." Kakashi says in a voice that's as though nothing is happening.

"AHAHAHA I CAHAHAHAN'T!!!"

"Hmmm... I'm pretty sure you can though. Your hands are free afterall."

"KAHAHAHASHII AHAHHA SENSEIIHEHEHEY!!"

"Yes?"

"PLEHEHEHEHEASE LET ME GOHOHO!!"

"Mmnoooo, I think that's what you're supposed to do, not me."

Kakashi vibrates his ribs, switching to prodding his hips, squeezing his knees, all while holding him still with his other hand as Naruto has begun swinging a bit.

Naruto moves his hands and arms attempting to block Kakashi as much as possible, occasionally bending upward to try and untie his feet but failing every time due to Kakashi's brutal punishment.

"You have about ... 3 more minutes Naruto. You can still pass this training if you get out quick enough."

"OHOHO STOP IHIHIHIT!! I CAHAHAHAN'T!!" AHAHAHHAHA PLEHEHEAHAHAH!!"

It was too difficult to even bend upward from hanging that way in the first place, but being mercilessly tickled at the same time was mission impossible.

The timer goes off, and Kakashi comes to a halt.

"Awww look at that Naruto. I guess you didn't make it in time."

"YEAH WELL I WONDER WHY!!" Shouts Naruto whose now breathing heavily to catch his breath, still hanging there slightly swinging.

"Now whose fault is that?" Kakashi states, moving to sit back down and read his book.

"Are you going to get me out of this??"

"Nope. That's your problem Naruto. I'll give you 5 more minutes before we start up again."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN START UP AGAIN??" Naruto shouts, frantically attempting to untie himself.

Let's just say the end result is up to you 😉

Ahhh I'm so behind!! Hope you enjoyed!!

[agerefandomstuff]

Can you do more Little Homelander? It is my newest hyper obsession. 🥰

Title: "Daddy" isn't too different from "Mommy"

Word count: 1503

Description: Butcher comes back to his dingy little apartment to find the only guest that always comes unannounced has seemingly set up shop in his bedroom while he was away.

CW: cursing, cannon typical dislike and love for each other but like... toned down, brief mentions of violence and guns

Chapter 1: Oh! William!

It had been a long day and Butcher was looking forward to kicking up his feet, drinking a cheap whiskey, and watching a game. But of course he wouldn’t be allowed that would he? The moment he unlocked his apartment door he knew something was off. 

As he moved in, gun in hand, the open balcony door confirmed his suspicion. The handle was broke off and even the glass was cracked. The front door had been fine so it had to have been some idiot athletic enough to climb up a few stories or someone who could… fly. 

Ugh.

He should’ve known instantly. The only bastard he knew that regularly came into his apartment through that damn patio was Homelander. 

With the off chance that it wasn’t the annoying blonde, Butcher keeps his gun raised as he sweeps the small apartment. Really there were only two spaces he couldn’t see straight from the front door, his bedroom and the bathroom. 

He stalks over to his bedroom, the door was open but the bed and part of the floor were obscured at this angle. He turns in suddenly pointing the gun forward as he hears a surprised… squeak?

Homelander whips around from his place on the floor, surrounded by toy cars, little army people, and crayons. He doesn’t flinch at the sight of the gun but anxiety shoots through him at getting caught. 

He nervously laughs and tries to put on one of his trained smiles. “William!” He greets his eyes struggling to stay on Butcher’s face. “You… ah.. you’re back! Early! Y..you weren’t supposed to be back for another week!”

Butcher lowered his gun, he should’ve been more perplexed at the sight before him but his general hatred towards Homelander tended to dull his surprise for the things he did. He sets the gun on his dresser, thinking about how cathartic it would be to just shoot off a  few rounds at the prick's face even if it wouldn't do anything but bounce right off. He crosses his arms, looking down at the supe trying so hard to portray himself as in control and not embarrassed. 

Kind of hard to take him seriously however when he was dressed in one of Butcher’s shirts and… is he seriously wearing his briefs as well? God damn there was something wrong with this man’s brain. Who steals their arch enemy’s dirty boxers? And to wear at that!

“So you thought, what? You could just pop in? Make a mess and steal my knickers?”

Homelander’s face grew red and he quickly tugged the front of the shirt down in an attempt to cover himself more. It wasn’t too difficult considering Butcher’s shirt nearly engulfed him like a dress. 

“You weren’t here to use them.” He argued, his usual arrogance making him feel like he somehow had the moral high ground here while the deeper part of him that he usually only sees in mirrors berated him with shame. 

“That’s the best excuse you’ve got?” Butcher could’ve laughed, this was the most pathetic he’d ever seen the bastard before yet he hadn’t even had to do anything but leave for a mission for a few days. “Well daddy’s home now so git.”

Homelander’s heart raced, he didn’t want to leave yet, it wasn’t fair. He had this all planned out. He specifically dropped hints about some low level supe’s drug ring a month ago knowing they would make it to Butcher’s silly team so he would leave for a few weeks. Weeks for him to have some time to himself in the one place he would get some privacy. Get some time to relax! He only ever got that at Butcher’s crummy apartment! Even.. when he was here… and they would spend the time vaguely threatening each other. It was a part of the game! And this was the middle ground!

Why did the Brit have to be so good at his job?? Couldn’t he suck a little more like everyone around Vought? Take his sweet time killing idiots for a few weeks instead of coming back so early??

“No!” He flinched slightly at his own shout, embarrassed he was begging but desperate to stay. He dropped his hold on the shirt instead leaning forward on his hands like he was moments from crawling over to the other’s feet. “Please. William.. I— Please don’t make me leave.”

Butcher raised an eyebrow at the scene before him, he wasn’t against hearing Homelander beg but it was certainly… unexpected. He wasn’t acting as tyrannical as usual. Perhaps it had to do with the children’s toys on the floor he had yet to address. 

Homelander could see the cogs turning in his mind as he stared down at him on the floor, his usual grumpy demeanor unchanging. He wasn’t even saying anything! It was driving him nuts!

“Please? Your apartment is the only place I can go without being watched or tracked.” With great hesitance he awkwardly crawls forward, looking up at him like he was putting his life on the line. “You’re like a ghost those idiot’s can’t track. I only know about your place because of how amazing I am.”

Butcher rolled his eyes, he couldn’t stop being cocky even when giving some backwards compliment while begging. “And how’s that’s my problem, sweetheart? Fer all I care they *should* be watchin yer ass all the time. Somethin to keep you accountable.”

Homelander grit his teeth at the comment, frustrated that he had no sympathy for him. Couldn’t he see he was being vulnerable?

“We have a bond, William. You can’t deny that.” Butcher scoffed which made Homelander glare up at him for a moment before forcing his expression to relax and look more inviting as he continued before the asshole could make some snarky comment. “This is our place. Only we know about it. We’re equals here.”

“Our place? I don’t think so.”

“It's common ground. No man’s land for everyone but us. We can walk freely here without being bothered.” Homelander reached out almost shaking hand–not shaking, he was stronger than steel he would never shake–his fingers brushing Butcher’s pant leg first but hesitating to actually touch his body. The brush of the cheap fabric against the pads of his fingers was enough to send electricity up his arm, he was concerned that touching him while on his knees would be truly crossing a line he wouldn't be able to come back from.

But he pushed past that shaming inside voice and ran his hand up over Butcher’s ridiculously meaty thigh then grasped his shirt, tugging on it at first like a needy toddler who hadn't given up trying for its mum’s poor tit then he reached up for one of his hands. 

He didn't react, didn't uncross his arms to make it easier for the pitiful little blond’s reach, he simply stared down at him while his mind started to race and panic with the way things were going. Why couldn't he give him this? He was on his knees for godsake! Doesn't he know that he could just use his powers and force Butcher to give him what he wants? But he isn't because he's following the rules of– it hit him. Madelyn had always asked him to follow the rules. Be a good boy for her and she’ll do things for him. Whatever he wanted as long as he followed the rules and was a good boy.

“I’ll be good.” he tries, grabbing Butcher’s forearm lightly since he couldn't grab his hand without forcing his stupid arms apart, “I’ll be such a good boy here. You can… can.. ah.. make rules? For here. And I'll follow them. If I can stay.”

Now that piqued Butcher’s interest. He didn't necessarily believe someone as self centered and hostile as Homelander could or would follow any rules set anywhere but it would certainly be interesting to test. And either way he would end up kicking the snivelling creep out. So what was the harm in having some fun whilst he was at it? A little bullying his worst enemy to relax after a tiring mission doesn't sound too bad to him.

“First off: y’ain’t gonna be snaggin my dirties anymore. Second,” Butcher grinned slightly seeing Homelander’s face turn from relief that he wasn't silently glaring down at him anymore to a mix of embarrassed discontentment learning he would actually have to follow rules. “You’ll call me Daddy from here out.”

There it is, Champ! There’s your lesson in how to royally fuck up and lose all your dignity in a few convoluted steps! Mirrorlander’s voice rang out in his mind as his hand dropped from Butcher–ahem.. Daddy’s arms. (Mirrorlander gags)

But he was also in too deep at this point. He couldn't simply let Butcher win with this. He would rise to his challenge as he did every single one the man brought him and take it head on.

Besides… ‘daddy’ wasn't too different from ‘mommy,’ right?

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Late Night

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~700

Summary: Your routine for sleepless nights. 

A/N: Random fluff piece. Y’all it’s 107 today and if I never post again, it’s because I melted. 

Warnings: Fluff

You had it down to science at this point. Every night before going to sleep, you would put your Bluetooth earbuds and phone right at the edge of the bedside table just in case you need them. Usually before going to bed, you’ll know if it will be a night of restlessness. Depending on what was going on in your life, stress would keep you up and if you don’t find a way to distract yourself, you’ll be up all night.

The first few times it happened you’d just stare at the ceiling in stiff silence. You didn’t want to wake Wanda up by moving too much, and since she was more often than not cuddled into your side or sleeping on top of you, moving at all was enough to cause her to stir. For this reason, at first you started keeping your phone as close as possible to you in case sleep evaded you. You’d scroll through your two social media apps before trying to find things to read. Eventually you started to watch things, but you couldn’t have the sound on which limited your choices.

Tonight, you fell asleep with your phone by your head, and when you woke up at 1am and couldn’t fall back to sleep, you carefully grab your phone and start scrolling. You glance to your wife who’s sleeping with her head on your shoulder and an arm around your waist. You lower the brightness of your phone and angle it so it’s not pointed near your wife’s face. You put in your earbuds one by one before picking a movie that you’d been meaning to watch for a while. You feel your eyes growing heavy as you get about an hour in, and you’re thinking about trying to fall back asleep when Wanda shifts against you. You wait until you’re sure she’s not awake before you take out your earbuds and set your phone down on the table beside you.

You’re able to fall asleep a few minutes later, and the next morning, you don’t think that Wanda noticed you hadn’t slept well.

One month later you’re watching a horror movie that you’ve seen a hundred times. You’re just listening to it as background noise as you shift slightly to get more comfortable. Wanda’s clinging to you like usual, and you just lie still and listen to the familiar movie as you close your eyes and try to relax. You know this movie so well that you can picture every scene as easily if you were watching it.

“You know, maybe it’s the horrifying movies you watch that keep you awake at night, detka.”

You hear her voice easily over the quiet movie, and you quickly pause it before turning to her with a sheepish look. This is the first time that Wanda’s woken up during your sleepless nights. At least that’s what you’d thought, but looking at Wanda now, she doesn’t seem surprised that you’re awake. She’s shooting you a curious look, and you put your things away quickly before trying to get resituated to sleep.

“Maybe, but I’ve seen this so many times, it’s just background noise at this point.”

Wanda can’t help but smile regardless of how ridiculous that sounds, and she squeezes you tightly before kissing your cheek. She’d picked up on your late-night restlessness fairly quickly. It was difficult for her not to notice how her wife became tense or moved beside her. She was a very light sleeper which she blamed on her occupation, so she was usually aware of when you weren’t able to sleep.

This is the first time that she’s said something about it because she honestly was hoping that this wouldn’t be a habit of yours. She was hoping for a one off so she didn’t have to admit that you might have trouble sleeping. She wanted to figure out what was bothering you, but maybe she could wait until a more appropriate time.

“We’ll talk about your sleep habits when it’s light out, okay?”

You nod in agreement before yawning again and deciding that you should try to go back to sleep now. Hopefully you won’t have nightmares.

Masterlist

[archoneddzs15]

Sega Dreamcast - PSYVARIAR 2 The Will to Fabricate

Title: PSYVARIAR 2 The Will to Fabricate / サイヴァリア2 ザ・ウィル・トゥ・ファブリケート

Developer/Publisher: SKONEC / Success Corp.

Release date: 26 February 2004

Catalogue No.: T-9907M

Genre: Shooting

PSYVARIAR 2 The Will to Fabricate is 2004's best offering for Dreamcast shooting fans and is certainly not to be sniffed at. Developed by the Korean company Skonec and released in the arcades by Success, this shooter has got to be one of the most original ones out there alongside Treasure's Ikaruga.

At first glance, Psyvariar 2 looks to be a blatant rip-off of Ikuraga with its flashy camera angles, fast fast-moving backgrounds with multiple layers of clouds but that's where the similarities end. Psyvariar 2 has NO power-ups nor Speed-ups to collect. The only way to power and speed up your craft (robot) is by using the BUZZ system. This is achieved by skimming your craft against the sides of the thousands of oncoming bullets. The more BUZZ chains you can achieve, the more powerful your craft will become. This system doesn't feel so good at first since your craft moves so slow with such a lousy firing rate. But after a little experimenting, I found that if you "shake" your craft from side to side a few times, it will start to roll. Enabling it to fire out bullets at a much faster rate whilst allowing you to move quicker to dodge the enemies' oncoming attacks.

Psyvariar 2 takes place over 6 (even though I can only access 5 for some odd reason) short but action-packed stages. Each stage is as beautiful as the last with each featuring a giant boss at the end that takes no mercy in throwing everything it has at you. Whilst some of the backgrounds could do with a much further draw distance. They make up for it in detail. The first-level boss is a prime example of sheer beauty by the way it fires 5 beams down to the earth resulting in one of the most beautiful (If an explosion can be called beautiful) explosions ever seen in a video game.

The Dreamcast title, Boarder Down, was criticized greatly for its music. Whilst I liked it, it could have been better. Well, being Asian I love the music in Psyvariar 2 with its Eurodance-style tracks (think Cascada's 'Everytime We Touch'). Try to imagine a Marc Snow track mixed with a bit of Euro rave with a tiny bit of Taito's Zuntata Team's music and that would probably be a pretty close comparison to what we have in Psyvariar 2. All in all, great stuff (^v^)

Earlier I wrote that there are 6 stages, but I can only access 5 of them. How the 6th stage is accessed I've yet to find out. I've finished the game with the woman character on ALL level settings including Very Hard but still, there is no 6th stage. If you look at the ranking tables, you'll notice that the top scores all have AREA 6 next to the score. Could this be some hidden level that will be revealed after playing for so long? Or must the game be complete with both characters? If so, you'll be in for a hard time since the male character's game is far more difficult than the woman's. The guy's bomb is next to useless, and his weapon seems to be far weaker than the woman's too. Maybe there's a point to this that I'm missing. All will be revealed once I've read or struggled through the instruction book.

So, is Psyvariar 2 The Will to Fabricate worth getting? In short, YES!! It's far better looking than Border Down. It's far more original than Ikuraga in my opinion but it is quite short. Then again, completing the game with the male character will keep you busy for quite some time. I've only had Psyvariar 2 for two days now but have already played it 8 times while Puyo Puyo Fever has only been on twice. So, it's certainly got that addictiveness to it.

My copy came with this cool Psyvariar 2 dog tag courtesies of Sega Direct. (photo from a discontinued website) I don't have a dog right now but if I did, it'd be cool.