#university is 2 hours away from where i live so i go there by train three times a week and it's not even that fun

[happy74827]

No Ordinary Life

[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)

WC: 1,179

Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst

We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.

Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here

『••✎••』

As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.

All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.

His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.

Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.

It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.

If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.

He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.

Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.

“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.

But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.

Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.

“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”

“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”

Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.

Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.

After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.

Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.

The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.

“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.

Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.

Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.

You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.

Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.

Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.

“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”

You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.

The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.

You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.

You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.

Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.

Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.

Then it was just him that was left.

He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.

His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.

But he couldn’t.

So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.

You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.

He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.

The damage had been done.

Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.

But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.

No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.

Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.

The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.

Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.

It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.

Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.

The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.

You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.

"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"

Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.

Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.

Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.

Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.

Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.

Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.

Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.

It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.

Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.

The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.

They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.

Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.

Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.

Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.

"What the hell was that?"

[vipower001]

DP & DC prompt 2:

We all know that there are countless brother/twin au’s with Danny and Damien. There’s ones where they become friends and/or shipped together. But what I don’t see a lot of with these two are mentor au’s or like “adoption” au’s. So here is my idea for this au.

Danny has become almost like an apprentice to clockwork and since that is he has to learn about different dimensions and universes. But since Danny doesn’t have the same ghostly powers as clockwork (he can’t see into time and realities) he has to go the said realities/universes/dimensions and learn about them in person. (Also Danny is in his early 30’s in this).

So one of the dimensions he goes to is the the one that has Gotham in it. Clockwork tells him that he has a job here and will be staying here for a while (though he tells him in a very cryptic way). So Danny stated and sets up shop there, literally. He buys a store that has living quarters in the upstairs and makes a shop for electronic repairs and also a lil book shop where he sells books that are hard to obtain, such as old books or books that were classics but can’t be found anywhere. He technically is an librarian that fixes electronic stuff (bc he totally learned how to creat and fix his parents inventions).

So he has been there for about 3 months waiting for the job clockwork said was for him when he ran into a wounded Robin. He was just walking home when he stumbled across Robin passed out in an alleyway. Danny instantly is concerned about the child’s well being bc holy sh** Robin is so small and just a lil kid. So Danny takes him back to his home and patches him up. It’s a few hours later that Damien wakes up and is instantly alert bc he woke up in a strange place. As he jumps to his feet to prepare for an attack or something, a huge wave of pain makes it way across his body bc obviously your gonna be in pain if you were shot!

Danny, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, catches him before he can crumble to the ground and scolds him for getting out of bed with his injuries. Damien goes on the defensive and started asking where he is? And who are you? And Danny just smiles at him and says his name is Danny and that he is at his shop/home. He tells Damien to get some rest and leaves him on the bed.

Damien keeps thinking that he should leave but something tells him he shouldn’t so he stays. After he is all healed and is given good Danny asks him if there’s anyone that can come pick him up. Damien says he can just leave on his own but Danny says he will not allow that. He offers to drop him off somewhere and Damien accepts.

From then on Damien keeps going to Dannys shop/house whenever he needs to be patched up or just to get away from the Batfam for a while. I kinda lost my train of thought bc this has been in my drafts for almost two years now but if anyone wants to take this idea pls do and tag me in whatever you write. Have fun!

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

No Pain, No Gain | Part 3 |PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem! reader

A/N: you guys are absolutely feral for this and I love it, thank you legitimately for all the love. Once again 😘 @ewanmitchellcrumbs ​, hope you luv uwu

Series Masterlist

warnings:  EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

When Baela messaged you with this screenshot.

   You thought, hell fucking yes.

 What better way to take your mind off thinking about your personal trainer’s dick, undo about an hour’s worth of cardio and feel like shit afterwards?

 2 for 1 cocktails.

 Storm’s End was pretty popular so Baela, being the legend she is, booked for four of you to go. Baela, her twin, Rhaena, you and a mutual friend from university, Maris Baratheon. Her Uncle owned the pub/club so she used her connections to get a further 50% off on friends and family discounts.

 God it was going to be a long night.

 After getting ready in the living room, Rhaena absolutely hogging the Spotify playlist, all three of you buzzed on a glass of Prosecco hobble to Storm’s End.

 “Rhaena, take those stupid shoes off” you nudge her shoulder a bit, which takes her off balance. She’s wearing heels that are far too big and far too high for her. Tottling around like a newborn giraffe.

 She yelps a bit but glares at you, “At least I’m taller than you now, short-ass”

 Hand on heart, you feign offense, “Who put 50p in you?”

 Baela nudges you from your other shoulder, “Children, stop it”

 Maris pipes up from behind, playfully squeezing your butt, “Where did you get this from?”

 “Ow! Maris!”

 Rhaena laughs, “Our creepy cousin is giving her personal training”

 “Hey, you” Baela glares at her twin, “He’s not ‘creepy’, just misunderstood. And be nice, his dad just died!”

 “Oh yeah cos everyone loved Viserys” Rhaena mused.

 You give an awkward look to Maris as you enter Storm’s End, giving a name as they lead you to a booked table.

 “He didn’t seem that bothered about it” you shrug as you huff off your coat.

 Maris, sat next to you in the booth, hangs her jaw open, “Fuck you, look at these!” she says squeezing your biceps, “I’m jealous I don’t get to see you in the bikini”

 Rhaena snorts, “Maris, your bisexual is showing”

 “Sorry, sorry”

 You must admit that when you were getting ready to go out with the girls tonight, you’d made the effort. The black cocktail dress hanging in the back of your wardrobe, that probably hasn’t been touched since the graduation party a few years ago, looked tempting. So imagine your surprise to find that it still fit, snug in all the right places. It wasn’t quite warm enough to go out in just that, so you pulled a coat over it. Even here, in the darkened part of Storm’s End, a sort of anxiety prickled at you at how low cut it was. You were usually not so brave.

 It had been a while since Maris came to visit all of you, so the drinks came easily. And effectively being as cheap as water, it was easy to put all the cocktails away. One particular cocktail had you constantly sneezing from the ginger in it, but you were nicely drunk now, engaged in conversation.

 Maris was swooning over a girl she’d met on a night out.

 “You know when you see a woman and you’re just like ‘yes’ she is perfect” Maris swoons, slurring her words.

 Almost in unison you all say, “No”

 “Maris, we are hetero beyond hetero” you laugh, sipping the cocktail and leaning against Baela on your other side. She leans in as well, partially, if not more drunk than you right now.

 “Okay fine, I’m not having this conversation with you virgins”

 “Whoa whoa whoa! Who said virgin?” Rhaena furrows her brows, angry and you genuinely have to hold back a laugh with how loud she’s being as several people turn around, hearing what she’s said.

 “Rhaena, I am willing to bet yours has grown back it’s been so long”

 “Nuh-uh” you point to yourself, head wavy from all the drinks, “that’s me~”

 Maris orders more, “Didn’t you and what’s-his-face break up like two months ago?”

 “Yesss, but we didn’t have sex for ages before that. So if anything it’s me who’s the sad little virgin of the group” you say, polishing off your cocktail to go in for another.

 Baela snorts, “At least until she gets a mouthful of Aemond”

 You almost spit out your drink, glaring at Baela. The alcohol has made you more…morally loose, yes. But you didn’t expect Baela to say that.

 “What the fuck Baela!”

 “Oh come on, she’s been cracking out the vibrator everytime I even say his name”

 Maris sees your bright red face, “Don’t” you warn.

 “Oh my god, as if you have a thing for creepy Aemond?!”

 You raise your eyebrows, “Okay, describe him”

 “Tall, lanky, skinny…I guess?”

 Stalking time.

 You raise a finger, putting your cocktail down to get your phone. You quickly bring up his instagram and show her the one photo where his whole body is in shot.

 Pretty much as soon as the screen lights her face, her jaw drops.

 “Oh my god”

 “Can you two please stop thirsting over our cousin, please” Rhaena rolls her eyes,

 Maris zooms in, “Hold on, I want to see what all the fuss is about”

 She zooms in, really taking him in and the both of you fawn over the photo for a bit too long. Describing everything. His legs, arms that poke out of the shirt he’s wearing with veins. Ugh. His neck, his chest, his shoulders. How tall and broad he is. Just everything.

 “Would you not let that man destroy you?” you ask Maris, snatching your phone out her hand,

In your drunken haze, you freeze as your finger slips and double-taps the screen, liking the photo.

 “Oh shit”

 Rhaena raises her eyebrows, “what”

 “I just fucking liked the photo” you drop the phone and put your head in your hands, vision spinning from the alcohol as well as the embarrassment.

 The girls erupt in laughter, which isn’t helping.

 You find the courage to look and see that the photo is a good ten or so months old. And the little dot next to his profile shows he’s suddenly active. He’s definitely noticed.

 Fuckfuckfuck.

 “Hey, you never know, it might be a good ‘in’ to get him to bang you”  Maris chimes.

 You’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life. And yet, you can’t help your mind wander at the possibility of it.

 Would he?

 He was pretty handsy last time.

 But he’s a personal trainer, surely it’s wrong for you to pay him and bang him when he’s on the job.

 No you can’t.

 You can’t imagine…him bare chested pressed against you, hot, sticky and sweaty from the efforts, broad shoulders closing you into the mattress, large hands splayed across your waist, teeth biting at your neck, prying your thighs apart, rutting into yo-

 “Hello! Earth to y/n!”

 Fuck, you’ve got to stop doing this.

 “Do us all a favour and fuck him” Maris muses, “You’re like in heat or something”

 Despite the embarrassment of it all, the night continues on and Baela is far too drunk to carry on. So being the good friend you were and mother of the group, you pull her hand around your shoulder and escort her home. She’s wobbly at best and seems to laugh at the smallest thing, and even though you’re drunk as well, the situation earlier sobered you up considerably.

 “I have a headahceee….” Baela moans.

 “I heard you the first three times you said it”

 “Can we get some painkillers, we don’t have any hic back at the flat..”

 With an annoyed groan you drag her into the nearest corner shop, it’s close-ish to home, so hopefully she swallows the painkillers, shuts the fuck up and you can tuck her in on the sofa.

 She waits at the entrance while you pay, talking absent-mindedly to a stranger.

 “Baela, don’t talk to strangers please” you say as you shove the box of painkillers in her hand. The man she’s talking to smirks amused at the situation.

 “This isn’t a stranger, it’s my other cousin!” she says, her drunkenness making her far too loud.

 “Oh yeah?” you crack open the bottle of water you bought, taking a swig before passing to Baela, “Is that true?” you ask the other man.

 It could be true. He’s got platinum hair, a smile that spells trouble and that weird cockiness all Targaryen men seem to have. He gives you a bit of a wink, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 “Unfortunately, yes. Aegon” he extends his hand and you tentatively shake it, still a bit weary. He looks at you like he already knows you, it’s very weird.

 “Yeah that sound like a Targaryen name”

 “He’s Aemond’s older brother” Baela says while taking a sip of water, accidentally letting it fall over her face and down her neck,

 “Unfortunately, also yes” Aegon smirks, “She looks a bit worse for wear”

 “We can thank Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails for that, can’t we Bae?” you smile, hooking an arm around her waist to steady her, she just grunts in response, “what are you doing here anyway?” you ask Aegon as he’s now found some interest in walking alongside you both.

 He shrugs, “Just came out to get a few bits, do you guys want a lift home? Aemond’s parked around the corner”

 “Yeah actu-” your mind works before your mouth does and your face pales a bit, embarrassment working its way into your belly.

 Baela has that stupid fucking smirk on her face again, wide and giddy like a child, “Yes please! Y/n, this is your chance to get Aemond to ram-”

 “Enough of that” you warn sternly, slapping a hand over mouth, but Aegon gives an amused grin, seemingly catching onto the subject of the conversation, “We’re fine getting home thanks”

 “Don’t be stubborn, come on” Aegon says, helping Baela down the road.

 A gnawing embarrassment curls in your gut. The last thing you want is to see him. And this is reinforced when you round the corner and Aemond is in the driver’s seat, looking up when he sees three figures. His eyes dart between Aegon and Baela for a moment before landing firmly on you, shamelessly looking down and then back up again.

 You take a deep breath. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

 Try as you might, you make for the back seat, but with a shit-eating grin, Aegon makes it there first, under the guise of helping Baela in the backseat and making sure she’s okay. And you want lightning to strike him down right now with how fucking smug he looks.

 A family trait, you see.

 With an annoyed huff and without looking at the smug blonde in the driver’s seat, you get in the passenger seat, quickly pulling the seatbelt around you. Aemond doesn’t say anything either, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

 Oh God, his thighs.

 Stopstopstop.

 You can almost see in your peripheral the way he’s smirking to himself, thinking it’s all very amusing.

 “Aem!” Baela shrieks drunkenly from the backseat, luckily cutting the already existing tension, “Where did you come from?”

 Aem chuckles lowly and it might be the first proper time you’ve heard him laugh, he turns to his cousin in the back seat, “I could ask you the same thing”

 “I found them in the shop, what was it, Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails?” Aegon laughs.

 Aemond huffs a laugh in response, raising an eyebrow in your direction, “Training going well then?”

 You only have to turn your head a little to face him and when you do, you regret it immediately. In the proximity of the car, with you in the front seat, it’s achingly close. You try to muster up an indifferent look.

 “Don’t live in the gym like you do”

 He smirks, poking his cheek with his tongue, and turns back to the road, putting the car in gear to drive off. And now his gaze is averted, you briefly let your eyes go over him. It was only fair, he did the same to you. And you turn away quickly with a sigh when you see he’s wearing fucking dark grey sweatpants. All those thoughts return at breakneck speed, the sinful, lustful ones you only think of when you’re alone with your vibrator and it makes you squeeze your thighs together harshly, and you swear you see a flicker of Aemond’s head move in your direction when you do it. Not that he shows it on his face.

 Aegon’s playlist is in full swing and it’s not a long car journey, but it certainly fucking feels like it.

 You’re just thankful that Baela is quietly drunk in the backseat, half asleep, so she can’t say anything incriminating about the desires you’d divulged in female confidence.

 “Stop the car” Baela says hurriedly, undoing her seatbelt.

 Aemond brakes, looking back at her in the rearview mirror.

 “Oh shit” Aegon curses as Baela gets out the car like a bat out of hell to run behind the closest tree, halfway across the park. Aegon follows with the bottle of water you’d bought her.

 In any other situation, you’d be glad to have a borderline sick and vomiting Baela out of the car. But right now, left alone with Aemond after the sheer stupidity of the night so far, you want her to come back as soon as possible.

 Aemond sighs, at least glad Baela had the decency to get out of the car before being sick. He reaches for the gearstick to move the car out of the way of the middle of the road. And the smug bastard completely misses and his large hand makes contact with your knee instead. You can do nothing but gasp when he does it.

 “Sorry” he murmurs without moving his hand.

 When you look at him, he stays eerily still, his eyes flitting across your face to take in the dazed, stunned and impassioned look on your face. Your mouth seems to go dry, brain made of cotton, desperately trying to come up with something to say, but failing.

 Aemond withdraws his hand back to the gearstick, but not before giving the flesh above your knee a firm squeeze, burning his touch into them, leaving behind prickling heat on your skin. Seeing that you’ve been caught staring at him for too long, you flick back, pushing your legs together impossibly tighter.

 He seems to delight in the reaction.

 “Have fun on instagram earlier?”

 Oh fuck my life.

 You turn to him, embarrassed, but his eyes are on the road just as Aegon and Baela get back in the car with a few rough and tumbles. You hate how easy it is for him to get a rise out of you like this, so you turn away and just watch the night life go by as Aemond drives the 5 minute route back to your flat.

 Almost as soon as he pulls up, Aegon’s helping Baela out and you follow, just about to shut the passenger side door when-

 “See you at our session tomorrow” Aemond muses smugly. His eyes glimmering with mischief.

 Not knowing what to say and far too horny to even form a thought, you take Baela back into your arms and make for the flat, but not before looking over your shoulder to see Aemond’s dark gaze over the steering wheel.

 Once in the flat, Baela collapses on the sofa, murmuring incoherently. Like a good mother, you put a glass of water and painkillers on the side table, pulling the blanket over her.

“Did you get railed?...” Baela groans, to which you bite your lip.

“No Baela”

 With a disappointed groan, she turns and almost instantly falls asleep, aided by the dizzying effect of the alcohol creeping in. You smile at her, she’s always been like this when she’s drunk. Always the wingman. Or wingwoman, you supposed.

 Halfway through taking off your makeup, your phone pings with a notification.

Absolute.

Bastard.

You wake up the next day shockingly kind of okay. Baela on the other hand is milking this for all it’s worth. Being a Saturday, you supposed she’s allowed some time to recover.

 But when you use the blender to make a smoothie, she groans, “Are you doing this on purpose...” she groans, with a wet cloth on her forehead.

 Forcing the urge to laugh at her away, “Sorry hun”

 She lifts the cloth to glare at you, “Why are you in gym gear, it’s Saturday”

 Your mind races a bit, a blush making its way up your neck and a familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

 “Last session today before the holiday” you say, leaning against the counter to sip the smoothie, “only day free was Saturday”

 Baela pulls a face, as if amused.

 “What”

“Nothing”

 You scoff, “Fuck you, I told you all that under the influence, it doesn’t count”

 “Oh yes it does~”

 She goes on and on and on it feels like, about how badly you said you wanted Aemond to destroy you last night. She seemingly doesn’t remember the finer details about how you got home. You wished you could forget. You can still feel the way his hand gripped your leg so tightly, the bare skin prickling up.

 Ping.

The dreaded ring of a notification. And it’s like he can fucking sense when people are talking about him.

   Dramatically, you flop on the sofa, showing Baela the text.

 “I don’t know how many more signs you need” she reaches for her go to hangover cure, the biggest bar of chocolate you’ve ever seen and a diet pepsi, “I don’t want to hear anything about it, if you do though because that’s gross. Tell Maris or something”

 “Nothing is going to happen”

 “Uh huh, whatever you say hoe”

 With even Baela’s belief in you dwindling by the second, with a heaving sigh you manage to plop into your car, prop your phone on the mount for directions to the address Aemond sent you and drive. Something curls in your gut all the way there. Nerves? Excitement? Nausea? Was it the Indian food…

 You know the answer already but it doesn’t make it any better.

 The car that picked you up with Baela the previous day is parked on a driveway, a black Mercedes.

 Twat.

 With a breath to stable yourself, you trudge with your gym bag to the front door. The front garden is curiously and meticulously tidy, grass mowed and in general looked beautiful. A stark contrast, you think, to the guy inside. For a moment, you honestly think why the hell you’re here. Or maybe it’s just scary how easy it was for you to just…go with it and come to his house.

 He appears in the doorway mere seconds after you press the doorbell, making you think he had seen your car pull up, but this notion is quickly dashed when you see him. He leans against the doorframe on his forearm, having to look down at you with a bottle of something in one hand.

 “Didn’t get lost then” he says with a smug smile. The embarrassment and those thoughts that were loud the night before come back at breakneck speed, making the heat flood your cheeks uncontrollably. You just hope that he doesn’t see it, but by the amused look on his face, he totally does.

 You roll your eyes a bit and his smile seems to drop for a second. He removes his arm from the doorframe, your eyes drag over what he’s wearing briefly. It’s not the black shirt he usually has on, but a grey one with patches of dark  at the neckline and middle, you surmise he’s probably already been working out before you got here. The image of his taut stomach sticking to his grey shirt will forever be seared into your memory.

 Walking through his home is like walking through a show-home, as in, it doesn’t look like it’s been lived in. It’s weirdly pristine, smells like air freshener and detergent. And as you follow him to the back of the house, where you assume the home gym is, you can’t help but stare at the dark grey patch in the middle of his back and the way his shoulders move when he takes a drink.

 There’s some stairs that lead down and you quirk a brow, “a basement gym?”

 He stops at the stairs, looking up, his eyes somewhere else before he meets yours. His hair is up in a bun again, like the first time, with stray pieces falling out, “Yes?”

 “How very serial killer of you” you muse, following him down the stairs, “Should I share my location with someone”

 He huffs a laugh, opening the door and leading you inside with the smallest of touches to the small of your back, “Unless you want to”

 Even the borderline ghostly touch against the small of your back through your coat is enough to make your brain feel like it’s mush.

 What if he’d ventured down, using his large hand to squeeze your flesh between his fingers? Moulding the skin to shape of his palms?

 “Drink?” he asks, strangely more chirpy.

 Pulling off your coat you reply, “No, got my water, thanks”, you try and make your voice as stable as possible.

 His home gym is actually quite big, lit by several spotlights since there’s no natural light. It hasn’t got any machines, but several weights and sit up benches, perhaps he brings some clients here sometimes? Your body shudders inconsolably at the thought of being laid on the sit up benches, flat with him looming over.

 He’s filling up his own water bottle from the cooler in the corner, back to you, “So what were you doing on instagram?” he asks, and you think you can hear the smile on his face.

 Taking advantage of him not looking your way, you adjust your sports bra. It’s a different set this time, since the other is in the wash, a dark rusty orange two-piece. He turns just as you’re pulling your hair up into a bun, eyes hooded and trained on you before briefly flitting across the new outfit.

 “Stalking your creepy profile” you answer, disinterested.

 He raises an eyebrow, “Creepy?”

 “That’s what Rhaena said”

 “Ah” he responds, “she would”

 “Why’s that?”

 He motions loosely to his eye that you supposed he was blind in, “Freaks people out”

 You furrow your brows, “Why would it freak people out?”. You ask it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against his water bottle in thought.

 “Does it not freak you out?”

 You shake your head softly, “No”

 He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he takes a sip of water and it makes your thighs feel somewhat like jelly.

 “Right, stretches”

 Oh boy.

 It’s almost as bad as the first time you’ve done them together, except he’s extra handsy, smirking with the knowledge that you were talking about him in your spare time. This time, when you’re doing the 60 second planks on the mat, his hand stays there on your back, moving every now and then slowly between your shoulders, to the nape of your neck. And there’s no mirror in his home gym, so you’re only hoping and praying that he’s not taking this opportunity to look at you in the skin tight leggings too closely.

 Although secretly, you kind of hope he is.

 “That’s it...” he praises lowly, and it takes you so off guard that you think you might just crack. But you resort to just biting your lip, trapping the skin between your teeth painfully.

 Squats are genuinely no better. He stays behind you the entire time, achingly close with his hands on his hips and everytime you go down to do one, you can’t help the desperate thrum of anticipation in your belly as you make contact only very slightly with his leg.

 Once you’re done with stretching and core, with the lack of windows in the room you’re in, it’s very hot and you wipe your forehead a little, slightly out of breath as you take a sip of water. Feeling as if you are being watched you turn your head slightly and see him sat on the sit-up bench watching you intensely.

 “Shit” you curse as some water leaks out of the bottle onto your chest and right down your sports bra. You try and wipe it away quickly, your chest already glistening with sweat. But when you look up, you see his eyes quickly flit from there to your eyes, darkened. One of his thighs jitters as he bounces his leg, as if aggravated.

 “Sorry” you breathe, grounding yourself, “what next” you ask, desperately trying to lighten the tension.

 “Bench press” he responds, and there’s that same tone he used last time. The tone that he used after literally scaring your ex away. But you swallow thickly and nod and sit where he once was.

 He explains how to do it and you take it all in a bit until you realise he’s going to be standing right behind you and your cheeks flood with heat again, tingling down the back of your neck. He just stands there as he usually does, but from this angle (and it’s very difficult to not look at this point) your head is right at his waistline and had there not been 30kg combined in your arms right now, you probably would have given more of a reaction to it.

 But you do your reps, with him watching in silence, seeing you break a sweat. As far as you are aware, his eyes forever on your form, but really it’s zoned in on that shadow that disappears down your sports bra and at the exposed bit of midriff beneath that to your leggings.

 As you’re doing the last few, he rounds the side and places his hand flat on your ribs, right under your sports bra’s hem and you freeze, an involuntary gasp escapes.

 When you meet eyes, he’s already regarding you.

 “Relax”

 Licking your lips nervously, you nod and breathe in and out deeply. But he never takes his hand off you, almost making sure you’re doing what he says.

 The next few reps are probably the most difficult. Never being able to stop thinking about his fingers on your bare skin, his thumbs drawing very very small circles on the hot flesh there. The air feels charged, as if one wrong move could ignite something, like striking a flame near gas.

 He moves his hand lower to your abdomen, making you freeze and look at him again. There’s no smug smile on his face, just a hooded, promiscuous expression, one that makes a deep, blurry thrum right where his hand is.

 “Push here”

 You try and do as he says for the last few, but it’s hard with the way he’s staring at you. And when you let out a huff and put the weights back where they belong on the rack, he nods slightly.

 “Good girl”

 He sees the way your face flushes this time, but makes no comment on it. Instead he rights himself to stand, extending his toned arm to you to help you up, not breaking the intensity of his look.

 It really does happen too quickly to know who did it. All you remember is taking his hand to pull yourself up. The next. Both his hands are around your waist, nearly encompassing them with how big they are, and the way they slide against your glistening skin rouses you in places you didn’t even know existed.

 There’s not even time to say anything when he locks his lips with yours, pushing you harshly against the wall with a thud that makes you gasp into his hot mouth. It’s messy, chaotic, a clashing of desperate lips and when he brushes your lower lip with his tongue it’s embarrassing how good it feels. He pushes you against the wall so harshly by your waist that you think he’s trying to embed you into it, hands clasped tightly around you in frustration, his fingertips creating marks where they are fixed.

 Amongst all this, he presses his firm, lithe body against yours and you let out the quietest of moans with the realisation that he is desperately hard beneath the sweatpants he’s wearing, pressing it into your thigh.

 “Fuck…” he breathes as his hand snakes up your front to take hold of your jaw, kissing with such need that it almost feels like too much.

 All this time your hands have had no idea what to do, but one slides to the nape of his neck, gripping harshly and completely destroying the style his hair had been in. The other runs over the slick skin of his forearm, tracing the veins there, and how they seem to thrum with every beat of his heart, faster with the desire that courses through them.

 “Fucking perfect…”

 Words fail you at this point, his fingers digging into the sides of your face make you realise he’s keeping you right where he wants you, attacking your mouth with his in a way that’s not really happened to you before. And that little breathy moan escapes once again when his teeth nip at your lip as he pulls away, immediately dipping to your neck to kiss and suck the delicate skin there, his hips pushing against yours with hunger.

 You wonder what his hands would feel like wrapped around your neck, squeezing gently, or maybe not so gently. If his hands would just go that bit lower…if your hands just dipped beneath the hem of his shirt…down the sweatpants…

 Buzz buzz.

 Snapped out of this hot, heavy trance, Aemond steps back a little and you duck underneath his arm, not daring to look back at him at the fear you might stay and fuck up this entirely professional relationship. You desperately look at your phone, a missed call from Baela.

 But that’s all the excuse you need, you hurriedly pack up your stuff, “S-sorry…I..” you start but with no vocabulary to actually finish. Your core is still spurring with delight with what you’ve just done, taking all the power from your brain.

 Looking back briefly, he looks a bit dishevelled but still ridiculously too good, flushed in the face and his chest gently heaving, and with that ghost of a smile on his face. Not smug this time, to your delight.

 “Um, sorry I have to go…thanks, Aemond” you excuse promptly. Even the very swift walk back to the car is a blur. It’s only when you’re in the driver’s seat, intensely gripping the steering wheel that it all slots into place.

 Your fingers go to your lips and all the places his hands had touched you. They’re on fire. Begging for more. And you feel your breath in your lungs stutter at the memory of it. Aemond stands at his window, watching with acute amusement that you’re still sat there, absolutely dumbstruck by what’s happened.

 Baela pings you in the wake of her missed call.

taglist (sorry if I missed anyone, I’m crap, bold means I couldn’t tag)

@mrsgrwy​ @lovelykhaleesiii​@urmomsgirlfriend1@iiamthehybrid​ @namelesslosers​  @chainsawsangel​ @warmfieldofgrass​ @mynameisbaby9​ @afro-hispwriter​ @tempo-rary-fix​ @toodlesxcuddles @definitelynotsatans​ @svtansdaddyx​ @tssf-imagines​ @darkenchantress​ @vrtualfairy​ @fan-goddess​ @skikikikiikhhjuuh​ @helaenaluvr​ @sarahkimtae​ @blackxisxmyxcolour​ @castellomargot​ @girlwith-thepearlearring​ @julczimozart​ @amazingdisneyfansblog​ @slutforaemond@thedamewithabook@Iiamthehybrid@sahvlren@Whoknows333@cosmoeticss​

[goosewriting]

Wherever you go, I go

summary: after reader and Cal are rescued from Bracca, reader questions whether they know him at all.

relationship: Cal Kestisx GN reader

warnings: none!, a tiny bit of angst sprinkled in there but mainly fluff

word count: 4.4k

A/N: i have the Cal Kestis Brain WormsTM and they will not leave me alone sdfsdfd this follows the first part of the game on Bogano pretty closely but not to 100% 

Navigation: Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 | Part 3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

You breathe in Bogano’s humid air deeply into your lungs as you stretch your back, stepping out of the ship onto the soft grass. The last 24 hours have been wild.

Around two years ago, you had ended up on Bracca, where you met Cal. You were both around the same age and Prauf had taken a liking to you both, so he had ended up introducing you to the redhead when you were new. They showed you the ropes of the place, how to properly use the machinery and tools, and pretty much everything you needed to know to be a scrapper. 

You had been dealt a bad hand early in life; it wasn’t without reason that you ended up on a planet like Bracca after all. You were on your own, needed a job, and the bounty on your head didn’t make it easy to hide, so you had to disappear. 

And yet, after everything that happened, you can’t help but think that it wasn’t all so bad, in hindsight at least. Because after leaving behind everything you knew, adopting a new name and taking the first ship to “as far as way as possible” from your homeplanet, it was like the universe dropped you right into Cal’s arms. Or at least that’s how you liked to think about it.

Ever since then, Cal and you became pretty much inseparable. In each other you found the friend and peer you needed right then. You were both pretty secretive about your lives thus far, but you knew that if there was anyone you’d trust on that heap of scraps, it was Cal for sure.

As time went on, you grew ever closer. You ended up telling him about how you had been on the run and needed to lay low for some time. Even if he didn’t tell you much about where he was from, you knew that if he wanted to tell you, he would, on his own time. And you were okay with that. You tried not to make up your own stories about him in your head, yet sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder. Whatever backstory your mind came up with though, never in a thousand years would you have believed the truth if he had told you, which you learned later and saw with your own eyes.

You think back to how that day had started and gone by normally, everyone working on their own thing. It was only on the train ride home that you noticed how weird Prauf was acting, and he and Cal were having a talk in hushed whispers, looking around nervously. You had made a mental note then to ask the readhead what happened later on, but you’d never get to that. 

From the moment the train stopped and Stormtroopers escorted you all out to line up, everything happened so fast; the Inquisitors talking about a Jedi traitor in your rows, Cal suddenly taking out a lightsaber, Prauf being killed, the whole train chase… Your memories are foggy, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re having a hard time wrapping your mind around everything that’s happened, or if it’s because you understand exactly what trespassed, but are unwilling to accept it. For now, at least.

Cal had somehow managed to get you out of there, falling onto moving wagons, and ushering you to go on. He fought off the scary Inquisitor lady while you cowered away. Then a mysterious ship came to your aid, bringing Cal and you to safety. 

And now it turns out this Cere person needs Cal to go to a… vault of sorts? Because he is actually a Jedi, and needs to pass a test to help her on a mission.

Truly, what a wild 24 hours it has been.

Now on the swampy planet, you somehow convinced Cal to let you tag along. You really don’t want to leave him on his own right now, and to be honest, you also don’t want to be left alone with Cere and the Latero. You aren’t even sure yet if you can trust them. This whole situation is just… too much right now.

So off you go with Cal, making your way towards the first cliff in silence, breathing in the clean air and taking in the sight. Little creatures with big eyes hop around and out of your way, looking at you curiously. As you reach a drop, Cal jumps first, helping you down. 

When your feet meet the ground, you don’t let go of his gloved hand just yet. He gives you a questioning look.

“It’s the first time in a while that I’ve been off-planet,” you remark with a smile. “It’s so silent out here. I had almost forgotten what that’s like.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while for me too,” Cal says. “It’s nice out here.”

You two just look at each other for a moment, suddenly aware that it’s the first time in a long time that you’re alone, hidden from prying eyes. And there’s also the bantha in the room of Cal being a Jedi. 

“Thank you, by the way,” you speak genuinely. “For… taking me with you, and not leaving me behind.”

“I already lost a friend,” Cal says, and you see the hurt cross his face for a moment. “I wasn’t gonna let them take you too.”

‘Friend,’ you think, and bitterly smile to yourself as Cal turns and keeps walking, without letting go of your hand though. You look at where he holds you, heat starting to spread on your cheeks. You’re painfully aware that your feelings for him have developed into more. You’re not quite sure when it started, but they were solid. And as strange as it was, Cal being a Jedi suddenly seems like the last piece to a puzzle. Everything falls into place, finally making sense. It actually suits him, somehow. And you understand why he didn’t tell you. The memory comes back of how he fought with his lightsaber, and how good he looked while doing that. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts. You were actually planning on confessing at some point, but that just got pushed way further into the future. There’s more pressing matters right now.

You don’t want to force Cal to talk about his past or his abilities, but you do have to talk about what your plan is. Not entirely sure how to approach the subject, you start formulating some questions in your mind, trying to find the best way to word them. You don’t get to ask him though because Cal stops at the base of another cliff, removing his hand from yours, which you miss immediately. 

“This seems like a good place to meditate,” he remarks, more to himself than to him.

“Meditate?” you ask.

“Ah, yeah,” Cal says and kneels down onto the ground. “To, you know, connect with the Force. It’ll take just a minute.” 

And with that, he closes his eyes and starts evening out his breathing. You look at him for a moment, then decide to sit on a rock a couple steps to the side. It doesn't take long and Cal’s face starts twitching lightly, his brows furrowing. Wherever he is, you hope he’s alright. 

You watch him a little longer, then avert your gaze as you realise you’re just shamelessly staring at this point. Taking in your surroundings a little better, you take note of the rocks and their curious colouration, with several shades of reds and browns between the white layers.

Suddenly you hear little, mechanical steps approaching, so you stand up and turn around, your body getting tense in a fight or flight moment. But you immediately relax as you see a curious little droid approaching the two of you. It looks at you, then at Cal, and stands in front of him, seemingly waiting for the redhead to come out of his meditation.

Cal’s breathing starts growing shallow, with the slightest of whimpers, and you want to reach out to him, asking if he’s okay, but you’re not sure if it’s safe to interrupt his meditation. So you just sit next to the droid, who gives you a look and a beep you can’t quite understand; you’ve never been fluent in binary. 

With one last pant Cal finally opens his eyes and is met with your worried gaze and the droid. 

“You good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he answers, and gestures to the droid with his chin. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, he joined in earlier. Looks like he was waiting for you to react,” you explain and the beeps sound like agreement to you.

“He says his name is BD-1,” Cal translates, then introduces you both to the little droid. BD gives another series of beep-boops.

“We’re looking for someone,” Cal answers, and BD beeps excitedly. “No, not you,” Cal says with a chuckle. “We’re searching for a Jedi. I think.”

BD jumps with a series of quick beeps, and hurries off.

“Hold on, you know the Jedi?” Cal asks and stands up. “Hold on!” he calls after the droid who is running ahead, and tells you to follow him.

You two navigate through the landscape of floating rocks and cliffs, following BD. He brings you to what seems to be a long abandoned hiding place. As you have to walk over a big pipe to get there, BD arrives first, and gets attacked by a rather ugly, maggot looking creature that was burrowing underground, and you see some sparks fly. Cal rushes to his help, getting rid of the creature and its friends with his lightsaber.

“BD! Are you okay?” you ask the droid, picking him up to inspect his leg, which is pretty busted. He beeps sadly. 

Cal joins you, taking a look at the droid to check out the damage, and you can’t help your heart skipping a beat at how he’s standing behind you, looking over your shoulder, and you feel the warmth radiating off of him. BD tilts his head at you for a second but you choose to ignore it, trying to convince yourself that droids can’t pick up on that kinda thing. 

“That was pretty brave,” Cal says to BD as he takes the droid from your arms. “And hey, I can help you with that…”

He brings BD over to a workbench, quickly fixing up the mechanical leg. BD seems to run some damage analysis as he stares straight ahead, then beeps at Cal.

“The vault?” he asks. “Yeah, that’s where we’re headed, too. Let’s go.”

“Uhm, what’s happening?” you ask, following behind the other two.

“BD says we have to go to the vault. He said he knows a Jedi, so, I’m guessing that’s where we’ll find them.”

“So… BD is a friend, yes?” you question further, lowering your voice so the droid doesn’t hear you.

“Yeah,” Cal answers, looking after BD that is rushing ahead to show the way. “I hope so…”

Trying to find a way out of the place, you two squeeze through a barely open door. There’s a hallway that could be your exit, but it’s blocked by some thick cables. You’re too late to notice Cal swinging his lightsaber at them; they’re clearly sparking. Before you’re able to stop him, he gets zapped and thrown back. You rush to his side.

“By the Maker, Cal, are you okay?” you ask, checking him for injuries. 

“I- I’m okay,” he groans, as he sits up. 

You’re about to give him an earful about being reckless when BD rushes to Cal’s side, offering a healing stim canister from a little slot on his cubic head. 

“A stim?” Cal asks as he inspects the vial. Looking up at you, he offers you the object with a lopsided smile; you’ve always been the one to patch him up. 

You playfully roll your eyes at him, taking the stim and stabbing it into his upper arm. 

“That’s better,” Cal sighs, and you help him get back to his feet.

“Thanks, little droid,” you say to BD, and he beeps happily.

“Let’s try that again,” Cal mutters, and you give his shoulder a squeeze.

“Without getting hurt this time, please,” you instruct, to which he chuckles, and you let him go. But BD is now holding onto his leg, beeping. Cal lifts him up and swings him over his shoulder, where the droid settles, and you see the happy little shimmy, which internally makes you go “aaw”. It really is an adorable sight. 

The three of you continue your journey to the vault mainly in silence. Cal makes a little conversation with the droid from time to time. You can’t understand everything but it seems that BD doesn’t remember how he got here.

At one point you get to what seems to be the last stretch towards the vault. You wonder how you will get across that narrow space, which essentially is just vertical, rough walls, in mid-air. You turn to Cal, about to voice your concerns, when you see that he touches the wall, and his eyes glaze over, staring beyond the walls into nothingness.

Is he… meditating again? 

You wait a couple of seconds, but he remains unmoving. Reaching up, you give his arm a gentle squeeze. 

“With persistence…” he mumbles, shaking his head slightly, seemingly coming back from wherever he was.

“Hey, you okay?” you ask him, stepping in front of him to have him meet your eyes.

“Yeah, all good. Just remembering old tricks…” he replies.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I just saw my… my old Master,” Cal explains with a slight shudder. “I was remembering my training, as a Padawan.”

Padawans. Jedi Masters. The Force. Those are all names you’ve heard growing up, but you never got to see one for yourself. You were too young to understand what was going on when the Clone Wars ended, but you did hear the stories. Some fantastical, others straight out of a horror holomovie.  

“Listen,” Cal speaks softly, taking both your hands in his, and your heart flutters as you look up at him. “I know this must be all so weird to you, and I promise I will explain everything. Just… I have to do this.”

“Do you though?” you counter. “What happened was awful but it was our ticket off of Bracca.” ‘We can start over again. Together’ is what you want to say, but it doesn’t seem like the appropriate time. “Why are you listening to a stranger?”

Cal hesitates for a second.

“It’s hard to explain,” he starts. “There’s just something coming from that vault, it’s like it’s calling out to me. I know you probably don’t understand, but please, trust me on this,” he almost pleads. “If anything is off, we’re leaving, I promise. But if there’s another Jedi… I need to know.”

You don’t trust Cere, or Greez. Maybe even BD, not yet at least. But you trust Cal. So you nod. 

“Just promise me one thing,” you insist. “Warn me when you’re about to meditate or think about your old Master. It’s a bit scary when you’re just… gone like that.”

“I will,” he promises with a smile, giving your hands one last squeeze before letting go.

“So,” you say after a while, looking at the vault which is so close, yet so far. “How are we getting there?”

Cal gives BD a sly glance, then looks back at you with that stupid grin you’ve grown to love so much. 

“Heads-up: you won’t like this,” he says and suddenly leans in, and you freeze. His arms snake around your back and under your legs, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing. “Hold on!” he quips. 

And with that he runs towards the cliff end, and you do hold on, for dear life. Cal skillfully runs along the walls, jumping from one side to the other, until he reaches the far end and hops onto safe ground once more.

He chuckles as he sets you back onto the grass, but you have to hold onto his shoulders a little longer until you feel safe on your legs again.

“Please never do that again,” you mutter under your breath, and Cal laughs. 

“C’mon, we’re almost there,” he remarks, gesturing towards the large structure with his chin. BD beeps happily. 

You walk next to Cal as you climb the rather steep mud path towards the vault. Up close, it is much taller than what it looked like from a distance. Still, you’re not sure what you expected it to be, but there really isn’t much… It’s just a giant tower surrounding a smaller column. That’s it.

“Huh, such a fuss over this?” you ask no one in particular.

“Hold on, I think I can get it open,” Cal says, and reaches up to touch the front panel. Closing his eyes, he focuses, and you can feel a shift around you as well as under you, as the ground shakes slightly, and the panel opens, revealing a dark and narrow passage. 

You inspect the passage, but you can’t see anything through it; it’s just a black void, and it’s rather unsettling. 

“I think you should wait here,” Cal states, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.”

“But–” 

Cal walks into the void, BD still on his shoulders, and you circle around the column to catch him coming back on the other side to make fun of him thinking that would lead anywhere, but he doesn’t come out.

“Cal?” you call, but there isn’t even an echo of your own voice to answer you. 

With a sigh, you walk back to the side where the redhead left in, and you lean onto the opposite wall, waiting for him to come back. The wait grows longer and your patience thinner, and for a second, you think that you just got ditched on this swamp planet, and you hug yourself. No, you tell yourself, Cal wouldn't do that.

…Right?

After what feels like an eternity, but probably was just a couple of minutes, Cal and BD finally emerge from the void again. You all but throw yourself onto him, hugging his torso. 

“What took you so long!” you say into his chest. 

“Sorry, I…” he hesitantly hugs you back, and you can feel he wants to say something but is holding back. So you look up at him.

“What is it?” you ask. “Did you meet the Jedi?” 

Cal just looks down at you, studying your face with an unreadable expression, and if you weren’t so worried by his silence, you would probably be very flustered by his gaze and how close his face is to yours. 

“Things just got a lot more complicated,” is all Cal offers as an explanation as he takes your hand, pulling you with him, out of the vault. “C’mon.”

“Wait, what?” you ask confused, trying to keep up with his hurried pace. “What happened in there?” 

“This is bigger than we could have imagined, I need to tell Cere immediately.”

That’s all you got out of him all the way back to the ship. BD kept looking back at you with questioning beeps, but Cal either didn’t hear or ignored him.

When you finally make it back to the Mantis, you’re out of breath. Cal’s pace was relentless when he was in a hurry, and he did carry you across some of the walls like before without warning, so you were looking forward to getting in there and sitting down for a moment.

“You passed the test,” Cere calls from the entrance of the ship as you approach it. 

You beeline for the corner bench behind the round table, where BD hops on as well, and is immediately scolded by Greez. Cal introduces everyone to BD, telling the other two that he’s “with us” now. 

Sitting down, Cal starts explaining what he learned in the vault. Some guy called Cordova hid a Holocron with a list of force sensitive children in the vault. The only way to get it though is by following his path, and the next leads are on the planets Zeffo and Dathomir. 

You’re still trying to wrap your head around this whole ordeal, when Cal asks Cere why she’s no longer a Jedi. She explains that an experience changed her perspective (vague much?) and she cut herself off from the Force. But she believes that with the holocron they can rebuild the Jedi Order, and in that way fight against the Empire.

When Cere asks Cal if he’s on board with the plan, he’s about to answer, but then looks at you, and you can see in his eyes that he wants to do this. So you give a short nod.

They come up with a plan, deciding what’s the next step, and Cere and Greeze disappear in the cockpit. You find an empty cot at the back of the ship and take a seat.

Your chest tightens at the realisation that Cal isn’t who you thought he was at all. That maybe you don’t know him at all, actually. But Jedi or not, he’s the guy you fell for. Behind whatever it was he’s been trying to hide all these years, there was a personality that was just unmistakably and often unapologetically Cal. And he’s become too important for you to lose. 

And now there’s this mission. A mission where, if you got things right, the weight of the universe will be placed on his shoulders. And it makes you angry, because that’s just not fair. There must be other Jedis out there that could do it, right? To make it worse, and you’re aware this might be a selfish thought, it makes you feel inadequate. Was Cal gonna drop you off on the next pit stop? You aren’t exactly an experienced fighter. You doubt they’d have a need for a thief on the run from the Empire. Would you be just a burden to him? 

Cal, who survived the Purge of the Jedis, and will now attempt to restore the Order. And you, helplessly in love with him, probably holding him back, because you’re too scared to lose him.

Just as there’s a voice echoing in your mind, telling you that you’re not enough, you feel a dip in the cot beside you. Looking up, you’re met with Cal’s worried gaze.

“You okay?” he asks softly. 

You slowly nod, but it quickly turns into a shake of your head instead. 

“I just…” You hope your voice doesn’t betray you, giving away the tears threatening to spill. “Everything happened so fast, so much all at once. And now I’m left feeling like I don’t know who you are.”

Cal is about to retort but you quickly add, “Wait, I didn’t word that right.”

So he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“What I mean is, we’ve known each other for some time now. And I understand why you hid who you are. I just can’t help but wonder if the Cal I know is the real Cal or not?”

You dare bring your gaze up to meet his, and your chest tightens at the hurt look in his face.

“Because I like the Cal I know,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “A lot.”

He gives you a smile, and you swear you can see the slightest shade of pink spreading on his ears and cheeks. 

“There’s only one Cal,” he says, leaning slightly to the side, softly bumping his shoulder into yours. “And he likes you too. A lot.”

For a second, you simply watch your hands in your lap, replaying his words in your mind. You see how his hand gets into your field of vision, folding over yours, and now your brain short-circuits for real. You look up to him, searching for regret or teasing in his eyes, yet you find nothing but affection and warmth. A warmth that spreads through your whole body, and has you taking a shuddering breath.

“So what’s the plan now?” you ask him after a while, giving his hand a squeeze that he returns. 

“Telling you the truth,” Cal answers. “And then you can decide if you want to actually be a part of this.”

“And if I say no, you’re just gonna ditch me?” you say with a playful scoff, but a slight panic still sneaks itself into your voice. 

“What? No, of course not,” he assures you. “I already talked to Greez. You can stay on the Mantis as long as you need. What I mean is… I want you to stay by my side. But I won’t force you to. We have a pretty ambitious mission, after all.”

“Fighting the Empire?” you ask rhetorically. “Been there, done that.”

“Wait, what?”

“Why do you think I have a bounty on my head, Master Jedi?” you say with a playful tone.

“What did you do?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“Hmm,” you stroke your chin as if considering his question. “I’ll tell you after you tell me about your training and how you escaped.”

“Deal,” Cal says with a smile. “And I’m not a Master Jedi, actually. I only ever was a Padawan, an apprentice.” 

“Well you have some nice moves for an apprentice,” you chuckle. “And Master or not, you look good with a lightsaber.”

Cal lets out a strangled sound at your comment, face now several shades darker. 

You both turn when you hear steps approaching, seeing that it’s Greez. You instinctively want to remove your hand from Cal’s, feeling like you just got caught, but he doesn’t let you go. 

“Ah, I see you’ve found the bed,” Greez says. “It’s the only extra we have. We were counting with just one Jedi, after all.”

“Technically you’re not wrong,” you say, unable to meet anyone’s eyes and looking down at the floor instead. “We’ll figure it out.” 

“You’ll have to,” Greez answers with a smile as he doesn’t miss your joined hands, and turns to leave. “Come get some dinner, kids.”

Cal wants to stand up but you pull him back. He turns to look at you with a raised brow and you take the chance to plant a kiss on his cheek. You almost laugh at the surprise on his face.

“Wherever you go, I’ll go,” you tell him as you rise to your feet with a smile. “At least it won’t be boring, right?”

— — —

A/N: this may have the potential for a second part? if you'd like that let me know! ♥ // (screenshot is mine)

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings (sorry for the late tag!)

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.21

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Smut! Short chapter my b.

IM NOT DEAD!!! woooo! Sorry there's been such a big break from my posting but I'm going to get back into finishing up this story and getting our precious pip back to her pack. Don't worry! And thanks to everyone sending messages and commenting you make my day and really help me stay encouraged to write. So thank you!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, gazing at the somewhat hollow figure of yourself. 

The monstrous silver collar weighed heavily on your spirit and collarbones. 

You traced your fingers over the indents where you had used a butter knife in a futile attempt to pry it off. Stolen from the mess, of course—it had been confiscated immediately. (Imperials are no fun.)

This followed the explosive outburst after that dreadful meeting in Tarkin’s office. 

The fight you put up required multiple troopers to pin you down, with the help of Crosshair to calm you as they forced this constricting collar onto you. Your screams had echoed throughout the entire base like the roar of a Zillo beast.

That was two days ago.

You didn’t even have the strength to get out of bed. It was so dehumanizing to be reduced to this… breeding stock? 

You didn’t know. 

You couldn’t think about it without feeling sick to your stomach. It made you itch with rage. The fantasies of murdering Tarkin were becoming more gruesome by the hour.

The 104th tried to visit, but you just curled up in bed, trying not to cry. Their voices and concern only reminded you of the 501st. You did your best to stifle your grief. They left with forlorn expressions and a curt shrug from Crosshair when they asked when you’d come out again.

Crosshair tried to nudge you out of bed, but you just burrowed deeper into the blankets, determined to remain in solitude. He sighed and left you be, feeling your despair through the bond.

Now, here you stood in your apartment bathroom, wearing Crosshair’s clothing, poking at the reminder of your purpose here. 

Your neck was raw from tugging at the collar; Crosshair had smeared bacta on the open sores that morning, and you looked at the red healing lines. 

You were suddenly overcome with the need for your other alphas. You craved the security they provided. Even when you were on the run, doing strange jobs for Cid, you felt secure with them. 

You missed their warmth, their hands, their pleasure… your home. You just wanted to scent them again, curl up in your nest, and never leave.

You looked back in the mirror and ran your fingers over the Aurebesh engraved in the metal:

“Property of CT-9904.”

You stared into your own empty eyes and decided enough was enough. The Imperials were winning if they could break you.

Fascist fucks. 

You took a deep breath and steadied yourself, willing your spirit to lift. 

Enough moping. 

It’s time to fight.

Grabbing the leather tie belt from the counter, you wrapped it around the large shirt, tying it at the waist to resemble Jedi robes. Then you pushed yourself away from the sink and turned toward the main living space. You grabbed a pair of slippers, hit the door lock, and stepped out into the hallway, making your way to the training center.

Crosshair had been ordered to track down your pack and had to pretend nothing was different. His new team of stormtroopers were inexperienced and desperately needed Crosshair’s knowledge if they were going after the Bad Batch. He had been working with them for the past few days, preparing them for this high-risk mission.

It wasn’t long before the security detail filed in behind you, following Tarkin’s orders. Two 104th infantry men flanked both sides, keeping a respectful distance but serving as a reminder that you couldn’t run far without being caught. You chose to ignore that last detail, but whatever.

Omegas and Alphas pressed themselves against the walls to let you pass. This was the one change you noticed drastically since your little show in the cafeteria and your grand escape from the facility. You were not an omega to be trifled with. You noticed the other omegas didn’t dare meet your gaze. Good. Stay away.

You had a reputation to uphold.

Descending the metal stairs, you floated down the corridor to the training rooms. Inside were endless rows of workout equipment for the regs, but more importantly, the open training mat where Crosshair was running drills with his new squadron. He sensed you immediately and gave you a discerning glance before turning his attention back to his men. However, you scented the alpha you were looking for. On the viewing platform, Wolffe sat watching Crosshair in silence. You filed in next to him, sitting down in acknowledgment.

“It’s good you’re up,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

You sighed. “Can’t let them win. Not even the small things.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

You nodded in return. “Did it work?” he asked.

You nodded again. “Light turned green. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Good.” He smirked. “I heard all about it from my men.”

You stifled a laugh.

“You would have made a remarkable Republic spy,” Wolffe joked. “Missed opportunity.”

You hummed.

“So, you really had a thing with a reg?” Wolffe asked, turning to face you and leaning back on the bench.

“It was a long time ago,” you said, giving him a sidelong glance.

“Didn’t think regs were your type,” he gestured toward Crosshair with his chin.

“It wasn’t a relationship. Just an… understanding,” you explained.

“I get it.” Wolffe smirked, clearly remembering something fondly. “We may be clones, but we’re still men. Alphas at that… The Republic had a pretty big budget for bunker bunnies.”

You whipped your head around, wide-eyed.

“What?” he laughed. “Your boys didn’t tell you?”

You gawked. “No!”

He snorted. “Yeah, every permanent base, and sometimes they’d bring in a ship for extended encampments.”

You were floored. You had no idea. Then you looked at Crosshair, trying to picture shiny Cross, Hunter, Wrek, Tech, and Echo experiencing that for the first time. You giggled, knowing there was probably some trauma related to that topic.

“What?” Wolffe was amused with your musing. 

“I’m just thinking about my pack. Oh god. I can’t believe all of the 501st was getting down like that and I had no idea.” You buried your face in your hands and laughed. 

Wolffe laughed too, “You really didn’t know?” 

“No!” You shook your head, “I thought quarterlies was like random people!” 

Wolffe snorted, “No darling, there was a special sector just for the girls back in Coruscant. They had the whole floor to themselves. Hundreds of omegas.” 

You squealed, “Oh my god.” 

“Ya know, I recall seeing Echo and Crosshair there a lot now that I think about it. Even your Sergeant a few times I think.” 

If your jaw could hit the floor it would. 

“Yeah. They liked to pop the shinys early. Get them accustomed to being around omegas at an early stage. Nothing worse than the first rut ya know?” 

“And Kamino?” You scrunched your brows. 

“Yeah thats where the first ruts happen.” Wolffe said like it was obvious. 

“Maker.” You shook your head. Images of your pack loosing their virginity flooded your mind. You felt Crosshair’s curiosity spike the bond. He was probably wondering what had you feeling like that. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room.

“Is that not common for nat borns?” He asked curiously. 

“No Commander, it’s not.” You shook your head, “You usually just have it happen naturally, most go through the first heat alone. Then when you’re an adult you might find a partner.” 

“Hmm.” He pondered. 

You were overcome with images of a young Tech trying to understand his alpha instincts. Probably fumbling around confused… poor baby. You shook your head. 

Oh god… Hunter… poor thing with his hyperdrive senses. That must have been so overwhelming the first few times. 

Then you thought of Crosshair. There was no way young Crosshair was ever awkward. He probably knew exactly what to do from the start… that man was too cocky to be anything else. 

You knew he was a whore from the get go… you giggled to yourself.

You’ll never forget that time on one of your first missions with the batch, you saw the way he finessed an omega into banging in a bar bathroom with such ease. It had your mind reeling for days after that. 

You remembered having to rub one out in the marauder fresher to take the edge off after imagining him with that omega for hours. He had come back looking throughly fucked. His hair was mused, his skin glowing from sweat, and the strong alpha scent radiating off of him made the whole ship reek of Crosshair. The others carried on with dinner as usual but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. That’s when your thoughts about your squad had started, actually. 

The thought made your body suddenly warm. 

Wolffe must have sensed your smell change as he peered at you softly. 

“Excuse me.” You said standing and walking towards the mat directly at your mate. Your guards stayed behind with their Commander while Crosshair ordered his squad to keep practicing their drills while he tailed after you. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked as you lead him over between a row of punching bags. 

You just grabbed this hand and slapped the door panel dragging him into the nearest supply closet and shutting the door behind you. 

The lights fluttered on as he peered down at you, confused by your sudden behavior. 

You felt your heart quicken seeing him in his all matte black imperial amor. It felt so wrong to be turned on by it but, damn did he look good. So tall, so masculine. So… Alpha. 

“What, omega?” His voice dropped an octave sensing your becoming flustered through the bond.

You looked up at him meeting his steely gaze. You felt your core pulse, “Echo said you all had developed feelings for me when I first transferred, but I never told you when it happened for me.” You felt your chest starting to heave trying to keep up with your sudden rush of arousal. 

His smell was crowding you in a delicious way, like a warm embrace. 

He narrowed his eyes at you and backed you slowly into the near by shelves feeling your pulsing through the bond. He could feel your desperation to cum. He could almost smell it. 

He raised a brow playfully. 

“Remember when we were on Nal Hutta picking up that weapons supply from that shady dealer?” You recounted feeling the steel shelving pressing up against your spine. 

“And you had tripped and fell into the baby sarlac hole?” His memory clearly differs from yours. 

You nodded, “My shoe had been chewed up and the others left you and me in that bar while they hunted down a pair of new boots for me?” 

“Always loosing your shoes huh ad’ika?” He smirked and joked.

“You picked up that omega at the bar.” 

He narrowed his eyes not sure where this was going but listened regardless. 

You panted feeling the heat radiating through the bond and the wetness growing in your panties, “When you finally found your way back to the marauder, I had finished up dinner with the others… You smelled so good and you looked so different. And after knowing what you were doing…”  You remembered the rush of heat that had flooded your cheeks that night. 

Crosshair ran a finger lightly along your jaw making you shudder against the shelves. 

“What about it, omega?” He trailed his fingers to your cheek where he rubbed your skin softly. He could feel the heat in your cheeks now. It made his trousers tighten. 

“Something had changed. I couldn’t get your scent out of my mind. I had to finger myself in the fresher just to get to sleep.” You admitted with a whisper. 

He flashed you his teeth in a wicked smile, “That wasn’t even two weeks after you transferred.” 

“I know.” You sighed as his hands ran down your sides spreading their strong warmth making you purr and flex into his touch. 

“You’ve been imagining me fucking you for all that time?” He asked reaching around to squeeze your bum. You mewled and reached for his breast plate. He slotted his leg between yours pinning your hips to the shelf. 

You nodded. 

“Poor thing.” He whispered. 

“I didn’t ever take advantage of quarterlies because I didn’t want anyone else.” You sighed into his lips. 

“You already knew you belonged to us ad’ika.” He claimed. 

You nodded pathetically. 

“Every mission. Every time you’d come back covered in mud or blaster residue.” You whimpered grinding yourself down onto his leg, “I felt bad hoping you’d need me to patch you up. I just liked being able to scent you.” 

He guided your hips up and down his thigh. You bit your bottom lip holding back your moans. 

“Why did you tell me this now?” He asked adding more pressure to your core watching your face scrunch up as the pleasure was bleeding into your system. 

“I just remembered.” You whimpered, “Then it made me horny again.” 

He chuckled, “It’s your heat coming love.” 

You groaned as a particularly nice ridge rubbed up against you, “Fuck.” Your head slumped against his shoulder. He used a hand to grab your hip helping to guide you along his thigh. 

“Why do you have to look so good in that?” You mumbled. 

“In what, love?” 

“The armor.” You whimpered leaning up to look at him with bleary eyes. 

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you. You moaned deepening the kiss desperately feeling your orgasm starting to approach. 

“You like it, huh?” He smirked pressing kisses to your forehead while he pushed your hips down harder against him. He loved the way you twitched and squirmed under his hands.

You nodded suddenly feel the crest of your orgasm. 

Then it all stopped. You whined as Crosshair pulled away only for a moment before flipping you around harshly and bending you over a stack of near by shipping crates. You gripped onto the cool steel as he flipped up the bottom of his shirt you were wearing and yanked your panties to the side before shoving his joggers down and pulling out his leaking cock. 

You bucked up against him feeling his tip rub through your folds. You let out a pathetic whimper as he continued to gather your slick… too slow for your liking. 

“Alp-“ you were cut off as he surged forwards filling you to the absolute brim. 

You both sighed feeling each other so closely and you tried your best to grind back against him but he continued on pinning you to the crates to create a steady rhythm with his hips. 

“You were always such a good little medic, cyar’ika.” He praised, “I also would be a little reckless sometimes just so I could feel your hands on me.” He ran his hand up your spine to your neck where he fisted the hair at your nape, “We all did.” 

He chuckled thrusting a little harder making you yelp, “Our little omega.” 

“Cross.” You whined pushing back against him. The need to come was all consuming and he, like the good alpha he is, could seem to feel it through the bond. He reached down between your legs and starting making circles against your clit making you jump from the pleasure. 

“Fuck.” You moaned barking down feeling the crest approaching. You also felt Crosshair start to tense up letting you know he was close. His energy was thrumming through the bond intensifying your own sensations making it nearly unbearable. 

Then finally, with a pinched yelp, you bit your lip harshly as you came. 

“Good girl.” He praised into your ear. 

You slumped against the shelves, letting him hold you up as you regained your footing. With the urge to mate now abated, you began to return to normal.

“It’s coming soon,” you said, looking up at Crosshair with worried eyes.

“I’d be lying if I said I wished we had more time,” he sighed, nuzzling your head. “My brothers will need enough time to make a plan.”

“They can do it, though, right?” You wondered, suddenly feeling skeptical.

“They can do it,” he said confidently. “I just don’t know how we can be ready.”

You nodded, understanding his concern. It was frustrating being on the inside and having no idea what was going on.

A ping broke the silence, making both you and Crosshair look down at his com.

“Nala Se wants you in her lab,” Crosshair said, sounding resigned.

You took a deep breath. This couldn’t be good.

“Try not to fight her,” Crosshair sighed, petting your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

“You’re not coming?” you asked, suddenly filled with anxiety.

“Only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

He nodded and then tilted his head toward the door.

You exited first, grabbing onto Crosshair’s arm as he walked the two of you to the lab. Fortunately, the walk was quick and short. Nala Se’s office was just inside the infirmary, where a few regs were getting their check-ups. A couple of mating bites were being cleaned and treated, while others had come in for deep scratches down their backs. Clearly, the regs had been busy.

It didn’t escape your notice that every single one of them turned to look as you passed by. Crosshair’s presence was intimidating enough, but they couldn’t help but be curious about his mate. You could smell their scents spike as you walked past, clearly intrigued by your unique smell. Some even tipped their noses up to get a better whiff.

Crosshair approached the private lab and opened the door, allowing you to step inside and leave the room of wandering eyes behind you.

“Y/N,” Nala Se’s floating voice made you tense.

You stared at her, keeping your grip on Crosshair.

Crosshair looked down at you before addressing Nala Se. “What did you need my mate for?”

“She’s been ordered to have her remaining birth control dissolved in anticipation of her upcoming heat.”

You couldn’t help but lean a little closer to your mate, feeling your anxiety increase.

“Shouldn’t it just dissolve on its own?” Crosshair questioned. “I’d like to avoid putting her through more stress than she’s already had.”

“While I would normally agree, these orders have come from the Admiral,” Nala Se explained. “He wants to be certain she’s fertile.”

Crosshair looked down at you again. Knowing you both had to go through with this, he gently nudged you forward, and you climbed up onto the exam table. Crosshair stayed close, while Nala Se prepared the injector.

You nuzzled into Crosshair’s chest, and he soothed you with gentle back rubs. You felt Nala Se approach and press the injector to the implant site. With a quick jab, the dissolver was administered, and you felt the cooling medication spread under your skin. You flinched slightly when she pulled away, and Crosshair quickly nuzzled your cheek to keep you still. A small badge was applied, and then you were effectively dismissed.

“Once her heat begins, we will need to be informed,” Nala Se reminded you as you practically yanked Crosshair out of the lab.

In mere seconds, your scenting abilities came to life. Everything around you seemed to brighten. Crosshair’s heady scent enveloped you, followed by the unmistakable smell of regs. It was overstimulating.

You winced as you entered the infirmary. Crosshair noticed and knelt down to get a good look at your wild eyes, sensing your panic through the bond.

“Is it happening?” he asked, looking worried.

You shook your head. “No, no. I just… I can smell everything.”

“Let’s get you back,” Crosshair said, standing.

“Actually, I require your mate for one other test,” Nala Se said, appearing with her holo pad.

“It can’t wait?” Crosshair snarled.

You patted him gently on the shoulder, reminding him to stay calm and that you were okay.

You followed the long-necked alien back into her office, letting Crosshair remain at the door like a glorified bodyguard.

“I require a sample of your DNA,” Nala Se explained, leaving you to stand in the middle of the sterile white office.

“Blood?” you asked.

“Yes,” she blinked before grabbing her tool.

You held out your hand, letting her draw blood from your palm.

“Why are you doing this, Nala Se?” you questioned, watching her take your sample and not the sequencer. “Why would you help these people?”

“The Empire destroyed my home, and they’re threatening my loved ones,” she deadpanned. “I’m not here of my own volition.”

You were shocked she answered at all. You had always thought she agreed to help because of the money promised to the Kaminoans by the Republic. You had no idea they had destroyed everything. You didn’t know she was a prisoner herself.

You nodded. “Then that makes two of us.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Sorry this chapter is so short. I'm getting back into the swing of writing with my schedule, and according to my outline this was going to be a short/filler chapter anyways. Buttttt don't worry I'll be posting more regularly again.

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

@sxftiebee

@booksandtitts-blog

@subbing-for-clones

[simpywriter]

Flames (Bonus Chapter - 2)

Hot fire

Pairing: Zuko x Reader Universe: Canon Words: 3.2k

Flames - Main

Summary: With his new position of Fire Lord, Zuko is so stressed that not even you can calm him. After a big fight with him you both need to reconcile, what a perfect opportunity to finally take that step. (This is a bonus chapter for my three-chapters fic ‘Flames’, but you can also read it separatly)

Warnings: emotional sex, kinda bossy Zuko, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

‘I’ll kick his ass’ You kept thinking as your clenched fists were surrounded by flames, crankling your toes to get rid of the sand between them caused you to constantly lose balance, losing control over every technique you tried. Frustration and anger stiffened your arms, making your movements clumsy and unsuccessful.

This all started a little less than a week ago, when you and Zuko moved to Ember Island together with Katara and Aang, in order to have a quiet and calm place to discuss some matters about the four nations; Sokka and Suki caught up with you a day later, Toph shortly following. The first days were peaceful, you spent your mornings on the beach, writing down ideas you discussed over lunch and in the afternoon, while the evenings passed while sitting in front of a bonfire, telling each other about your lives now that you weren’t all together anymore.

But then the topics became heavier and more complicated. And Zuko started to freak out. Every word, every doubt you tried to bring into conversation was an excuse to get mad and lash out on you or the others; his role was difficult and his father left on his shoulder a big burden, but it couldn’t be an excuse to treat poorly the friends trying to help him. So, you decided to hang out more with Katara and Suki, train your bending on the beach and ask Sokka for help in hand-to-hand combat. But avoiding him seemed to make the situation worse, Zuko started sending you digs whenever he could, the little gestures he usually reserved for you, like pouring your tea first or intertwining your fingers under the table, were gone, replaced by huffs and clenched fists when you stood up to get away from a discussion.

«You know what? Tonight you stay alone», you once bust out during dinner after yet another contemptuous comment about your laziness. «I’m done with you for the next twelve hours» «Oh yeah? And where would you like to sleep?», the others were looking between you two without a word, their eyes scanning rapidly your expressions in turn. You were almost embarrassed to be fighting with your boyfriend in front of all your friends. Almost. «It’s not of your business. And you made clear that you don’t care about me. That wouldn’t be the first time either», you could see a glimpse of pain in his eyes and immediately regret saying those words. However, you didn’t had time to go back on what you said because Zuko quickly got up, sending you and icy glare. «Then I won’t care» He stormed out of the door without a second thought.

«So… are we still going to the theatre tomorrow?». Katara quickly summoned a wave from her cup, showering her brother’s head.

You tried to convince Toph to let you stay with her since she was the only one with a free spot in her room, but the little girl was strict about sleeping alone; after nearly an hour of prayers and promises, you found yourself forced to knock on the door of your and Zuko’s shared room. ‘Spirits, that girl is so bossy. Ugh.’ «I don’t want to talk Aang. Just leave me alo-» «It’s me».

You could sense him freezing just from the soft gasp he let out. You impatiently waited for him to open the door, dreading the thought of sleeping on the little couch in the living room. Just as you were preparing yourself to relight the fireplace, Zuko opened the door, leaning against the frame with a tired expression. You regretted your previous words even more: his hair was a tousled mess, the robe asymmetrically tied on his waist. «I…», you couldn’t look at him in the eyes «Toph wouldn’t let me stay…». Without a word he moved away, letting you in. You nodded in gratitude and quickly found yourself climbing into the bed next to him, facing the other side. At first both of you remained silent, listening to the waves shattering on the beach; then, you sensed him moving on the mattress, leaning closer to you «Y/N… Can we talk?», he brought his arm around your side, squeezing you lightly against him, but you moved away, standing up quickly to prevent him from trying again (also because you knew you would give in easily, especially when he was giving you the puppy eyes… Focus).

«I’m still mad, Zuko. You’ve been awful to me these days» «Excuse me??» He got up, harshly throwing the blankets away «I may have treated you badly, but you told me that I don’t give a damn about you. Even though you know how bad I feel about everything that happened!» «Don’t scream» «I know», he took long steps in your direction «And then it’s you who is… well…». «I what?» «You know it…» «No, I don’t», you said, crossing arms against your chest.

You could see his cheeks flush even with just the little light coming from outside «It’s not important» «Evidently it is!» «Don’t scream» «I know», you sighed «Tell me» «No» «Zuko» «You’re… You’re always clinging to Sokka» «It’s not… huh?»

You blinked, replaying his words in your mind two or three times more before you really understood what he was saying. And when you did you had to turn to all your self-control to not start laughing right there in front of him, Sokka came here with Suki, they were like glue and the water tribe boy always looked at her with heart-shaped eyes. You couldn’t believe what your boyfriend just said. «Oh Spirits… you’re jealous». Zuko felt even more ashamed hearing the amusement in your voice «I’m not jealous! It’s just… you’re mine», he muttered the last part, face twisted in a pouting frown.

«You just… always ran to him and… ask to practice together, on the beach. And that happen every single time I can’t stay with you because of the work or after a fight, a-and… maybe you think I’m not enough and-» The words died in his throat as you took his face in your head, delicately holding his gaze «Just calm down». His golden eyes stared into yours, the pupils were shaking in a whirlwind of self-doubt. When he saw the corners of your lips curl up, his ragged breath calmed. «I’m not going anywhere», thumbs traced gentle circles on his cheekbones «I know it’s hard for you, but don’t you ever think that you might not be enough. Okay?», Zuko nodded shyly, never making a move to distance himself from your grip. «Even if sometimes you piss me off a lot», you stifled your laughter as you saw his skin turning crimson, from neck to ears. «You’re so cute~», you teased him, giggling even louder when his eyes widened and he hurriedly hid his face sinking it into your neck, muttering a ‘Stop’ against your skin. The boy felt the vibrations of your laughter across his chest, making his heartbeat even faster; but along with that familiar feeling that came over him when he heard you laugh he felt something else, something heavier.

«I’m sorry», he whispered, and you closed your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your sides. «I’m really sorry for everything I said to you», his voice trembled and you could feel him seeking refuge in the warmth of your body, just like you had done with him years before, when your family abandoned you: «It’s ok», you reassured him «I’m sorry too, I know you care.». His hands moved from your hips to both your cheeks as he rested his forehead against yours with shaky breaths. He gave you a little peck and you couldn’t contain a soft smile, «I love you», he whispered before kissing you again, and again, and again until your lips were glued together; you could feel the passion Zuko was conveying in his kiss, the previous softness left space for something warmer. His hands moved from your cheeks down your neck, caressing you back until encircling your waist. His naked forearms were hot against the soft fabric of your nightgown.

Before you knew it you were pressed against a wall, Zuko’s finger kneading the skin of your hips, moving awfully close to your butt. You ran your nails through his hair, shivering at the sound the boy made when you scratched his nape. He muttered your name, being quickly silenced by your tongue on his. A leg found its way between yours and you let out a trembling moan, a warmth in the pit of your stomach, forcing you to clasp a hand on his shoulder. «Are you alright?», he slightly pulled away, just enough to leave your lips touching. Your mind took a bit to regain control over your body, the way his breath grazed your skin didn’t help. At all. «More than okay». Your hand traveled across his robe, moving the hem to expose his skin, the soft light from outside highlighted the muscles of the chest, tensing under your lingering touch. Zuko had to summon all his willpower to hold your gaze; he was sure he was red all the way to the tips of his ears but at least your cheeks looked flushed too (he just didn’t know it was because of his sudden exposure).

He was gathering his thoughts when you spoke, fingers timidly going their way through his hair. «You know all those times we… we kiss» «Yes» «And we kind of… kiss really…», you moved a hand between your two bodies, trying to push the concept out of you without words. But you just got a quizzical look from your boyfriend, making you let out an exasperated sigh «We kiss hard, Zuko» To this the Fire Lord’s face burst out in flames «O-Oh yes. Yes! We kiss h-hard», the way his stuttering was interrupted by an embarrassed cough was nearly enough to make you forget your own uneasiness. Nearly.

«We’ve never gone further than… your hands» «M-my…», he gulped «Hands» «On my body» «On your body» «Over the clothes» «Over your clothes» «I think I might want them under» «You think you might want th- what?! Oh Spirits». He tried to escape, turning his head toward the wall, the bed, the window, anywhere but you. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if you saw smoke coming out of his ears; his lips moved hysterically, but you couldn’t really get what he was trying to say. With a small chuckle you cupped his face. 

«Is it because of Mai?», you asked, as gently as you could. Zuko opened the mouth to contradict you but was quickly silenced by your soft look, he just couldn’t lie to your sweet gaze. With a sigh he leaned forward, pecking your lips, and caressing your cheekbone he whispered «Yes. I know you’ve never done anything and I don’t want you to feel forced by the fact that Mai and I…» «I don’t feel forced», it was your turn to kiss him «I appreciate your caring and I love how thoughtful you are. But if I’m telling you this it’s because I want this». It was as his golden eyes lit up for a second, the warmth from his body completely overwhelming yours. «Are you sure?», he asked, lips grazing yours with every word. «Yes»

And the same heat from before was back in a second. It was back in his kisses, in his touches around your body, in the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth. It was back in the way you two stumbled across the room, trying to find the bed without distancing from one another, as both of you pulled on your night clothes. When you finally felt the blankets under your back Zuko’s robe was completely off, the hem of your gown rose as the boy moved his leg between yours, straps sliding down your shoulders. Both your hands explored his body, drawing imaginary patterns on his exposed skin; the goosebumps raised with your touch made him shiver with a sigh, hot fingers tracing your sides, playing with the silky fabric, lifting it until you helped him taking the piece of clothing off. You always thought that on this occasion you would’ve been ashamed as hell, that you would’ve wanted to grab the sheets and hide from every gaze. But you were proved wrong. You didn’t feel the need to cover yourself, you let his eyes scan every inch of you that was uncovered.

«You are beautiful», Zuko wasted no time before kissing you again, taking your breath away before trailing his lips down your neck; a surprised moan left your lips as his teeth and tongue played with your skin and his hand kneaded your left breast. The lower part of both your bodies began to move in unison, making the desire of both of you evident, «Can you feel what you’re doing to me?», you heard the boy whisper and you couldn’t respond with anything other than another moan. You could feel how much he needed you against your thigh, his erection pressing to be freed from the boxers; your skin was on fire, you could feel the heat that spread from his hand as it traveled down the valley between your breasts, tracing the curve of your abdomen until he hooked two fingers inside the hem of your panties.

You could feel only the warm and pleasure he was giving to you, trying to let out only whimpers and soft moans, not willing to risk the others hearing you. «You’re so wet…», Zuko’s fingers traced your slit under the panties, his mouth glued to your neck. The others might not even hear you but certainly the marks the boy was intent on leaving on you would be very visible the next day. It would’ve been difficult to hide even those on your chest, considering the hunger with which the boy sucked the skin of your breasts. He inserted two fingers inside you and another moan, higher than the others, left your lips. «Zuko…», you whimpered, hips moving on their own to follow his pace «I need you» «I know». He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow and giggling breathlessly when he saw the look of frustration on your face when he pulled his fingers out.

You kicked off your underwear as he slipped off his boxers, stroking his shaft before aligning it to your entrance.

Zuko bent down to kiss your neck, moving up your cheek, towards your temple, the heated passion temporarily replaced by his usual sweetness as he intertwined the fingers of one hand with yours «It'll hurt a little… tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”, he whispered against your skin. You nodded, bringing a hand to stroke his hair, grazing the back of his neck with your nails «I trust you Zuko». He pulled away just enough to peer into your eyes, leaving his body on yours, careful not to weigh on you but close enough for you to feel all the comfort that the warmth of his body gave you. He smiled and immediately entered you, leaning in to kiss your temple as you let out a pained moan. He continued to enter, slowly, feeling your walls tighten around him with every inch.

«Zuko…!» you breathed out, clawing at his back almost in panic, torn between pleasure and pain. The boy squinted, cursing «Fuck, Y/N… you’re tight» The way his expression changed made your cheeks heat up. His mouth was half open, neck muscles tense and eyebrows furrowed in a pleasured expression, your whole body reacted to the idea of being the cause of what he felt and you immediately warmed up. The burning you felt between your legs began to ease and when Zuko narrowed his eyes to look at you, his breath caught in his throat. «You’re beautiful», he whispered. His lips assaulted your neck, leaving a trail of rosy hickeys up to the front. «Zuko…», you moaned, scratching his shoulders with your nails «Move». «Yes», he smirked before starting to rock into you.

It was like something exploded into your chest, the pain disappeared almost completely, just a small hint that made the pleasure stronger. You were overwhelmed by him, by Zuko. He was on top of you, inside you, all over you… His hands were grabbing the pillow next to your head, tightening at each thrust of his hips inside of you. He moaned against your ear, making the tightness you felt in the pit of your stomach even tighter; you felt the need to feel him deeper and before you knew it you had wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him with your heels to go deeper. Zuko let out a surprised noise, immediately broken by a more pleasured one, his knuckles turning white as he bent down to take a nipple between his lips. «F-Fuck! You’re… mh… good», you murmured, causing a chuckle from him that vibrated against your skin. «Thanks, love», he whispered flicking his tongue and making your walls tighten around him.

His hands left the pillow to grip you thighs in a way that would surely leave visible bruises the next day, but you would worry tomorrow about which bathing suit to wear to cover them, what was occupying your mind at the moment was the way Zuko spread your legs, holding your pelvis up and starting to rock again leaving you to appreciate the new angle. His thrusts hand become erratic, his labored breaths sent shivers across your skin. He leant into your neck again, hiding in the crook of your shoulder. «I’m close» he whispered trembling against you, his tone was enough for your entire body to shake with a jolt of pleasure. «Me too», you panted «Please Zuko, I need you.. ah!» You were interrupted buy your own moan when he brought two fingers between your bodies, rubbing against your clit. The combination of his thrusts and fingers sent you over the edge, soon followed by Zuko, who moaned your name before pulling out and coming right away.

You fell into bed next to each other after cleaning yourself up, letting each other’s bodies warm you. You had a happy smile as you absentmindedly caressed Zuko’s chest, cheek resting on his collarbone. He had an arm embracing your waist, two fingers grazing your skin. «How was it?», he asked in a whisper and you felt yourself blush, instinctively snuggling into him. «Perfect. I didn’t think you had such a dominant side inside. You’re usually so shy…» This time it was his turn tu blush, you could tell simply by how he held his breath for just an instant, it wasn’t necessary for you to look at him. After a few more seconds of silence Zuko called your name, softly, his grip on your hip tightening almost imperceptibly. «What» «Let’s not fight anymore for these things»

You turned slowly, lifting your head to get a good look at him. The boy had a few strands stuck to his forehead and reddish cheeks. But you stopped with your gaze on his eyes, shiny and insecure. You immediately leaned towards him, kissing him slowly but deeply; he kissed you back, flicking his tongue against yours and stroking your cheek with his free hand. When you pulled away it was only a few inches. «Let’s not fight anymore for these things »

| The End |

Heyyy, so sorry for the late late late late so-much-late update but you know... things. Hope you liked this juicy bonus chapter! See you next fic!

[sserajeans]

you are in love | 4. sob sesh? (written)

hanni was outside y/n's house by 6:30 on the dot. the shorter sent a text instead of honking the horn and potentially disturbing the household's dinner, but the windows in the living room made the car's headlights visible to hyein who was on her phone inside the house.

hyein was familiar with hanni's car and took a deep inhale before yelling, her voice echoing throughout every corner of the house.

"Y/N-UNNIE! HANNI-UNNIE'S OUTSIDE!"

"I KNOW!"

y/n ran down the stairs in a crop top and loose jeans, stuffing her phone and wallet in her pockets while shoving her feet in her sneakers.

"wow... what's the rush?"

"it's bad to keep people waiting, hyein." y/n replied back in a snarky tone, referencing a time a few months ago where the younger lee made y/n wait in the car for a solid 30 minutes, causing the two to receive tardy slips in school.

"well move on unnie omg?” hyein shrugged and headed to the kitchen. "you'll be gone for dinner?"

"yeah. are there leftovers in the fridge or do you want me to bring home takeout?" y/n opened the front door, one foot in and the other out as she waited for her sister's response. "i'll be back in like 2 hours though."

"i can probably cook something don’t worry."

"you're cooking? okay, yeah no, now i'm worried."

"shut up?"

"lock the front!" y/n chuckled as she skipped down the three steps connected to the house’s porch.

she hopped in the passenger seat of hanni’s car, reaching for the seatbelt before finally greeting her friend. "look at you reaching the pedals and all!”

"i could just drop you in the middle of the road.”

"nevermind… don’t do that..”

a comfortable silence filled the car, only the soft music from the radio playing as the two passed by the familiar houses in their neighborhood.

“hey… do you know where you’re going for university?

"no not really.. but kaist is on top for me. i’ve gotten a few recruitment offers as well but i haven’t thought much about them... i’m kinda more focused on the aquatic games so my rank gets a good chance to try out for the national team."

"the national team? that's huge y/n! don't forget me when you get an olympic gold."

"hm.. maybe i might.. never know how bu- OUCH?" hanni swiftly delivered a sharp pinch on y/n’s side, causing the latter to bend over with her arms around her waist.

"deserved.” hanni let out an evil laugh before braking at the red traffic light.

"but yeah even if i move to the national training center i'll still be attending whatever university, but for minimum attendance and whatnot.”

"i see... isn’t the NTC far from here?"

"5 hour plane, yeah. we’re still thinking about who’s gonna be staying with hyein while my parents and i are away.” y/n turned to her right, noticing the lit logo of the diner meters away. “what about you? any plans?”

"probably knua for music? still trying to convince my dad it's a good idea and that i won't starve with a music degree."

“that's very in-character for mr. pham... you’ll have zuha around too though, right?"

"yeah!” hanni sighed as she pulled the car over to one of the diner’s diagonal parking spaces. she switched off the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt before looking over in y/n's direction. "we’re getting old.”

"well if you call 19 old.." the two shared a quick laugh, hanni playfully punching y/n’s shoulder, y/n muttering a quick “ow there goes my career.”

"you know what i mean. it's like it was yesterday when i moved down the street, now we're all going off?" hanni took a deep breath before opening the car door on her side. “okay we can’t sit here all night.”

y/n spoke nothing of the glistening that formed in hanni's eyes, and instead followed the shorter out of the car.

hanni was right, things will be different this year. kazuha's getting busier and the 04ers have college to worry about. it saddened y/n to imagine what jiwoo could possibly be feeling on that note.

the two entered the diner, hanni first with y/n poking her shoulders right behind.

"there they are!"

"took you guys long enough."

"there wasn't even any traffic on the way!"

y/n slid in one of the booth's couches beside jiwoo and minji, kazuha and hanni across her. "sorry guys, hanni was having a sob session."

"I WAS NOT!"

y/n started giggling as she gave minji a high five, kazuha on the other hand, was busy holding hanni back from beating the lee up.

"my god how did you guys not kill each other in the car?" jiwoo shook her head as she reached passed down menus that sat on her side of the table. hanni and kazuha shared one, minji and y/n shared another, and jiwoo had the last for herself.

y/n and minji frowned at the sight of a large vegetable dish on the front page and immediately flipped the menu to the next page. "like i said, sob sesh."

minji chuckled, taking note of a burger set she was thinking of ordering.

"what's so funny, kim?"

jiwoo, unfazed (knowing it wasn't her anyways), showed kazuha the menu page and pointed at an appetizer platter, to which the eldest nodded in agreement.

"nothing..." minji softly elbowed the girl on her right as they flipped through another page of the menu. "maybe you should tone it down y/n, our pham hanni is seeing red."

y/n rolled her eyes as they reached the end of the menu and closed it, placing it down on the table. "we all ready to order?"

a chorus of "yeah" and "yup" was heard from the girls as kazuha waved down a waiter. the eldest of the five accurately dictated each one's order before jiwoo brought up her latest piece of gossip.

"so the new student, i think his name was sungjin..."

the girls shared laughter and stories they experienced during the summer when the others weren't present. an irreplaceable warmth surrounds their booth, and if it had a color, perhaps it'd be golden.

things will be different this year.

masterlist. next.

taglist: @yyeonmis @lostamoeba @jisooftme @yoontoonwhs @awkwardtoafault @kvnii @lcv3lies @limbforalimb @spritin @kaypanaq @i06kkura @manooffline @kimsgayness @justme-idle @jenaissantex @mightymyo @sewiouslyz @txtbrainrot @li0ilthecxnt @captivq @paranoxic @sofakingwoso @daniellobers @pandafuriosa60 @haerinkisser @staryujinnie @wowowowcake @lesleepyyy @haechansbbg

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Leaning against Scott Monument in a park, view of the castle, passing time before Mark Watson starts. Some good performer could probably create a routine about my thought on this is "It's like Google Earth come to life" is indicative of a certain relationship to technology. Of course, the fact that I thought of an observation about the meaning of my own thoughts, and my idea for how to convey it was by saying: this is how it would be described by a performer in a show, might be indicative of my relationship to live entertainment at the moment.

Anyway the Olympics are on right now, which is so weird. All week I keep coming out of shows to find 100 or more new messages after not checking my phone for an hour, because all my group chats are going. Coaches, larger team chat, my old university team, my old coach group chat with people who've moved away.

This is the first year since 2004 when the Olympics have happened and I haven't spent the whole time glued to the wrestling livestreams and results. Usually with my teammates, though not always. In 2016, my old high school teammate won a gold medal, and I was out of town visiting my grandparents. I watched her win her semi-finals on the stream, realized the biggest moment in the career of anyone I know might be happening that night and I can't be alone to experience that, so I called an old university friend who lives 2 hours from my grandparents and drove to spend the night with her. We drank a bunch of whiskey while I told too many stories of hanging out with this athlete at old high school tournaments (many of those stories involved me playing Pokemon in a hotel lobby until whatever guy from some other team she'd met vacated our hotel room, it was always just her and I sharing rooms because we were the only girls on the team) and how I couldn't believe where she was. I called into the watch party that my team was having back home and watched the finals on the phone with them, when she won I heard my best friend's living room burst into loud screaming cheers from the 30 people he'd crammed in there, I burst into tears and hugged my one friend who was with me, my best friend back back home took his phone into another room for a bit so we could just remember stuff together.

I remember saying to him, on the phone, that maybe she'd done enough finally. Whenever anyone does anything, everyone in the community says "Well it's not like they did [other bigger thing]." The silver wasn't a gold, the gold wasn't in a tough year, the national win wasn't international, the international tournament wasn't that great. But this was it, gold medal at the Olympics. Maybe she, for the first time of anyone I know, gets to be good enough, and gets to be done trying to meet ever-increasing expectations. It's a gold medal at the Olympics. You can't move the goalposts any higher.

When she came home frpm Rio I was part of a whole crowd greeting her at the airport, she pushed past people to give me a hug and tell me she remembered training with me in the early days and that big high school tournament that I won and she didn't and she let me be the first person to hold her medal.

Of course it didn't work the way I imagined it would. For the next 4 years, every time she lost a match, which was rarely but sometimes, everyone in the community said she was overrated and her Olympic win was a fluke. At the 2021 Olympics, she competed again, my best friend and I snuck out of a friend's birthday party to watch the stream on his phone. She made one big mistake and lost her first match, and then everyone we knew said "Sure she won it once, but she couldn't defend her title." Fuck off.

That's not the only person I've known whom I've watched compete at the Olympics, of course. In 2016, I also had a chat going with my old university roommates, as we watched our old university teammate get beaten up in Rio. I mean, all the group chats were going about him, but we had a private chat just for making fun of all the press that made him sound so great. Calling him a warrior, a man with the grit and determination to fight his way to the top. When in fact we knew he was a man with the word "tits" tattooed on his foot and an alcohol problem, who liked to sexually harass 17-year-olds and cheat on his wife at tournaments (everyone does that but most at least do it in hotel rooms, he frequently did it in venue bathrooms).

Anyway I don't think I've made my point very well, which was just trying to illustrate that the Olympics are normally when everyone I know gets together to watch and talk shit and make bets and get back in touch. None of my old teammates are competing there this year, but some people I know are. Some I like and some I don't. Everyone I know is talking about it. And I couldn't give a fuck.

If I were back home, I'd be probably feeling quite depressed about that, watching while not being part of the community anymore. But instead I'm swiping the notifications of 100+ messages away as I run between Edinburgh shows. I don't have time to worry about how many upsets there have been. I haven't even stopped to think about it at all, until I sat down in a park and had an hour to do nothing before Mark Watson. And then did start thinking about it, started feeling vaguely depressed about that, wrote it down in a Tumblr post, and that actually helped me feel quite a bit better.

Okay, I'm now off to see a man who does have an alcohol problem and has cheated on his wife on trips, but probably doesn't have the word "tits" tattooed on his foot, and I hope to God has never sexually harassed any 17-year-olds. Let me believe in something.

[mousydentist]

More KPTS fics <10k words that altered my brain chemistry

PART 2: Misc Relationships

here we go again! this time, these are all fics that fit somewhere outside the big three pairings (kp, vp, kc). more (WAY more) than a few deal with sensitive topics, so the back button is your friend! enjoy <3

One Bright Moment by sparkly_butthole @sparkly-butthole-on-ao3

Rated E. Creator chose not to use warnings. Summary:

“Okay,” Porsche says slowly, “who is the smartest person we know? We should start there.” “Arm,” Pete responds immediately. “He’s a scientist. A tech geek.” “As opposed to?” “A magician? I don’t know.” Or: Porsche and Pete swap bodies. No one knows what to do about it.

this fic is ssooooo conceptually amazing, i'm absolutely obsessed with the interactions between the characters and the smangst gives it extra bonus points too. god VEGAS in this fic is literally spectacular, stunning, perfection

Complicated by Dumpster_Fire_x @dumpster-fire-x

Rated M. Creator chose not to use warnings. Summary:

Chay was in trouble. There was no way to put it. He knew that what he felt was far from normal nor the conventional way relationships work. He was in love, not with one person but two. Kim and Macau. It didn’t begin that way.

COMPLICATED!!!! this fic sent me into a kimchaymacau rabbit hole that i have yet to find my way out of but tbh i like it down here. soooo sweet and cute and just all around a very delightful read. angsty with a lovely helping of hurt/comfort that makes me 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

an hour glass glued to the table by IsleofSolitude @emberfaye

(+ associated series: time is a wheel in constant motion)

Rated G. No archive warnings apply. Summary:

"He’s immature, of course he is–he didn’t get to have his cousins and his parents give him attention and time. He knows how hard Vegas works–doing triple the work of anyone so that Macau is allowed to be carefree and attend classes at his school and not the type of training that strips away at your soul." Macau and Kim are the youngest sons, only four years apart in age.

i fucking LOVE this series so much, giving me that sweet sweet kim&macau goodness. i dont normally see/read gen fics or macau-centric fics and this really set my standards high for both of those things because its so well done

I don't need a parachute, baby, if I've got you by sabrina_il (marina) @pitchercries

Rated E. No archive warnings apply. Summary:

“We can do this,” Kinn insisted, between one kiss and the next, lying on top of Tay on the massive bed in his suite. “It’s totally doable.” Tay had to laugh. Kinn was very sexy and very heavy on top of him, and Kinn’s shirt was barely buttoned anymore and Tay appreciated all of it, but Kinn was an absolute idiot when it came to being an omega. Tay had known that even before they’d gotten together, almost six months ago. He’d known it for most of the time they’d spent as friends. “We absolutely cannot,” Tay countered, kissing Kinn again. An AU where Tay and Kinn are both omegas who get together (after breaking up with Time and Tawan respectively) and due to Reasons both go into heat at the same time. Porsche is the alpha they hire to solve all their problems. Suffice it to say, everyone gets way more than they bargained for.

oh WOW what to say about this fic. the PLOT in this bad boy, and in the rest of the series, is absolutely unmatched. SUCH a creative universe and made me fall in love with tropes/relationships id never considered before. 10/10 no notes

Ain't No Sunshine by Dumpster_Fire_x @dumpster-fire-x

Rated M. Major Character Death. Summary:

"Sometimes, death can bring the living together, and death can cause the living to find solace in one another." - C. JoyBell C.

🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲 ow. just. ow. short and sweet, painful, heart wrenching, lovely, and all the other adjectives that mean "hurt in a beautiful and poetic way"

Kinn the Stud by IsleofSolitude @emberfaye

Rated E. Rape/Non-con. Summary:

It’s not often that Kinn is put out to stud. Most of the time, the two ruts he gets a year are treated with a mix of pills, vetted escorts, and schedule rearranging. Yet, every few years, people are allowed to pay for the honor of having a Theerapanyakul alpha stud for their fertile omegas. Korn had promised that this time, in honor of his birthday, he would be allowed to pick one omega personally. Of course Kinn had chosen his boyfriend.

genuinely dont care if im biased cause this was a gift for me, this fic aaaaaaactually rocked my fucking world like oh my GOD my jaw was on the floor the whole fucking time and then went i went to pick it back up the fic slapped it out of my hand god this FIC.

Chan's 7 Step Method for Making Good Boys by JynxedOracle @jynxed13

Rated E. Creator chose not to use warnings. Summary:

After being assigned to train Kim by Korn, Chan decides to use the opportunity to work on Kim's disrespectful attitude. Luckily he's devised a 7 step method to make Kim a good boy, regardless of Kim's feelings on the matter.

i was present for this fic being written through discord messages and it was a religious experience. i reread it twice on discord and then a third time when it got put on ao3 and then like six times since then. if you have EVER considered the possibility of chankim you HAVE to read this fic

adrenaline by loveliuess @the-innefable-idiot

(+ associated series angsty and horny KimVegas au by popular demand)

Rated E. Graphic depictions of violence. Summary:

Tomorrow Kim would blame everything on the adrenaline rush.

hi um. this fic. this FIC. this entire series actually, because you HAVE to read the whole thing. "angsty and horny kimvegas" is 100% accurate and LORD HAVE MERCY. i read the first fic as like a little treat before i went to bed and then i stayed up til 3am to finish the rest of the series and then i cried and didnt sleep at all :) GO READ IT

a night worthy of 200kbaht by Anonymous

Rated E. Creator chose not to use archive warnings. Summary:

Tuition is due and his brother is running himself ragged with three jobs already after Uncle Thee's latest gambling debts, so Porchay does what he has to in order to take care of things himself; selling the only thing he has worth something. He just didn't expect the highest bidder to be so... classy, and lowkey impressive.

oh if you know me you know about my obsession with this fic. ive bonded with close friends over how much we love this fic. this fic drastically changed my life its SO FUCKING GOOD. im a kinnchay hoe all the way and this is just *chefs kiss*

Performance Review by iffervescent @iffervescent

Rated E. No archive warnings apply. Summary:

Big wants to be good. Chan wants him to earn it.

this! fucking! series!!! i dont think i need to sell anyone on how amazing iffervescent is but goddamnit im gonna do it anyway. i very very rarely read bigchan but when i read the rest of the series i was like oh my god i HAVE to read this one and i DID. NOT. REGRET IT.

[pkg4mumtown]

Through Glass (Ch. 7)

Chapter 7: The Distance

Rating: T

Summary: Stephen and Strange finally go head to head.

A/N: Uhhhhhhhh, remember when I apologized last chapter for up and disappearing? Yea…SORRY. Life has been very very busy. Sorry for this being relatively short.

Strange = Dr. Strange in reader’s universe

Stephen = Strange-Supreme

Warnings: Feelings of being watched, Multiversal Stalking, Possessive!Stephen, Eventual body horror, Gender Neutral Pronouns for Reader, No Y/N, First Person POV, What If AU where Reader dies instead of Christine, Strange-Supreme just needs a hug honestly, Stephen in Reader’s universe is a big dummy, Stephen is touch starved, consentacles (ch.6), smut (ch.6), reader/monster romance

Catch up with Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

I've seen this yearning take on a frightening form The memory of you will make sure my past lingers on And I still love how you say my name I still taste you kissing my pain away Still see your tears through the rain

After Wong had left to prepare the Kamar-Taj and the other sanctums for yet another attack—despite still recovering from Wanda, Strange hit the ground running on a solution. He logically expected pushback in the form of a fight but without Wong to help with preparing a heavy-duty protection spell, it took him a lot longer to prepare. Between that and coming up with a game plan that Wong would approve, Strange took a little longer than he’d like for such a pressing matter. Once he was ready, however, he wasn’t going to be stopped by any coyness or front doors. He was getting straight to the point and finally finishing this drawn-out incident.

—

The next twelve (or so) hours that Stephen and I shared together were pure domesticated bliss. But, with bliss eventually comes hunger.

I spread the last of the cream cheese on a toasted bagel, tossing the knife in the sink and grabbing both plates to head to the living room.

“Here’s your—shit!” I started, just about jumping out of my skin as I saw Strange stepping through a portal with his eyes trained on me. I was able to keep the bagels from an untimely meeting with the floor. “Hungry?” I pushed the plate toward Strange, glad Stephen was nowhere in sight. He had probably sensed him incoming and had no time to warn me.

“Two bagels?” Strange asked with an unimpressed raise of an eyebrow.

“I’m glad you can count. Bagel?”

“Where is he?” Strange demanded.

“Who?”

“I’m really not in the mood for you to play dumb,” Strange groaned, using magic to remove the plates from my hands. Thankfully, they reappeared elsewhere. “The person who was going to eat the other bagel, your dog, whatever you’re calling him. Where. Is. He?”

“Are you saying I can’t eat two bagels by myself? Because I totally could and I’m prepared to prove you wrong.”

I didn’t realize I’d been shuffling backwards until my shoulder hit the edge of the hallway. It was stupid really, attempting to rush into my room and close the door knowing full well Strange could just wiggle his fingers and make something happen. But I attempted it anyway and now I was locked inside of my, now doorless, room with him.

“Now…” Strange sighed at my minor inconveniences, “…the faster you give him up, the faster this gets over with. Youasked me for help, remember? So, if he’s threatening you, I can help with that.” Strange continued walking toward me until I was backed against the wall with no way out, “However, if you’re protecting him…”

My eyes flicked over Strange’s shoulder, spying Stephen’s murderous reflection in the mirror, “Step back, please.”

“Why? Is your dog going to come take a bite out of me?” Strange huffed, glancing over his shoulder but not seeing the reflection that I had.

“You’re going to piss him off!”

“Who?!” He shouted.

“You! Okay!?” I snapped.

Strange’s face fell as Wong’s assessment was confirmed by my confession. Strange mumbled a curse and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Hey, asshole!” Strange turned and yelled into the room, arms spread open. He walked to the middle of the room, monitoring any reflections he could. After a beat of silence, he locked eyes with me again, “I’m assuming he got spooked and went back in when I arrived?”

I rolled my eyes at “spooked” and shrugged, “Most likely.”

“Good,” he smirked, moving his arms in wide motions, creating a complex sigil before my eyes. “I’m locking him out for good, this time.”

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach despite knowing my Stephen was stronger. What if Strange could pull it off? Then what?

“No!” I lurched forward, stupidly grabbing his arm mid-cast. “You can’t! He’s not a bad person!”

Strange stepped away from me, pausing the casting so I didn’t hurt myself, “I’m trying to protect you! Just like you asked!”

“You don’t even know me!”

“That didn’t matter before. And anyway, it’s for the best. Knowing me would put you in danger that you couldn’t handle,” Strange snarled grimly, drawing his brows together.

“According to you, I already am.”

Strange huffed as his concentration broke, moving away from me and stomping over to the large mirror where most of the energy had been concentrated before.

“Strange, dammit!” I shoved his shoulder as he began to cast the spell again.

“You are pushing every last button I have,” he growled, shaking me off his shoulder.

Facing the mirror again, Strange quickly shuffled back a few steps as Stephen appeared, fully decked out in his menacing creature form.

Shit.

“Oh, he’s not bad, huh?” Strange stressed, waving an arm out to the mirror. “Look at him!”

Strange restarted the spell again only for me to shove him harder. I had barely made contact when I was pushed by an invisible force, landing hard on the floor with a groan. I stood back up, no injuries to speak of other than a bruised ego and a bruised ass.

“Uh, ow?”

“If you’d’ve stayed back, I wouldn’t hav—,” Strange was cut off as tentacles suddenly pushed through the mirror, wrapping around Strange’s neck, wrists, and torso. He was lifted off the ground, bringing him eye level to Stephen, while keeping his hands apart.

Stephen leaned out of the mirror, snarling and growling filling up the room instantly, “Don’t you dare bring harm to them again! You know how important they are to us, coward!”

“They’re not—gah—yours to protect,” Strange choked out. “What happened—to—yours, hmm?”

“They’re gone,” Stephen brought his face even closer to Strange’s then glanced slightly upwards to Strange’s forehead. “Oh…,” Stephen chuckled, “…how precious.”

Strange’s fists were clenched, wrists contorting as he tried to over power Stephen as violet magic emanated from his fists. It was only then that I noticed the third eye on Strange’s face. Not that more than two eyes was strange to me at this point, I just wasn’t aware that Strange had some of that funk going on, too.

“The Darkhold, Doctor? What a hypocrite!” Stephen spat.

“I—did what I—had to do,” Strange gurgled.

“To save the girl, yes. I’m aware America Chavez resides here. Great kid. Anyway,” Stephen brought Strange’s hand in between them with a tentacle, “Here’s the difference between you and me, Doc.” With some effort, Stephen managed to force one of his arms back to his human form from the elbow down to his fingers. He put their hands side by side, one heavily scarred and shaking while the other stood unmarred and perfectly still, and snarled, “You didn’t have to lose them to follow your fate into the Mystic Arts. I did!”

As Stephen said his piece, I felt for Strange as I watched his face grow a deeper red—borderline purple—and worryingly so as the tentacles seemed to squeeze harder the more Stephen raged on. Hesitantly, I approached, making sure Shumi was able to sense my presence amidst all the emotion before laying a hand on the tentacle wrapped around Strange’s neck.

“Stephen, please,” I asked softly.

“Get back,” Strange wheezed, more air than noise escaping.

Stephen snarled at Strange before glancing at me from the corner of a few of his eyes, while the others stayed trained on Strange.

“Put him down before something bad happens. This universe still needs its Doctor Strange.”

Stephen responded with something akin to a grumble and loosened up the tentacles, letting Strange drop to his feet with a not-so-gentle thud.

“Wha—?” Strange wheezed, clutching his neck and his face only donning two eyes once more, but still staring at Stephen’s bare arm. “Ah—How?”

“The car accident,” Stephen’s voice distorted midway through speaking as he calmed the beings inside him and switched back to his human form; his body going back behind the mirror. His red and purple robes sat heavily on his shoulders contrasting his gaunt, pale features with his light brown hair contrasting Strange’s deep, black hair. “They died in the car accident. In my accident.”

“Y—you knew them…before?” Strange cleared his throat, eyes squinting as he tried to piece together Stephen’s timeline.

Stephen’s head nodded silently, eyes cast downward at the mention of his past; clearly still feeling the weight of the guilt of his actions.

“So, you joined the Mystic Arts and turned yourself in to this? Do I even want to know what you did?!” Strange berated him. “You could have gone back to work but you chose this instead?”

Stephen’s face snapped up, a snarl marring his human features. He charged toward the mirror with fists balled and fury in his eyes, “They meant more to me than work! That’s the difference between you and me.”

Strange responded in kind, bringing up huge orange runes to shield himself in case Stephen did anything.

“Stop!” I snapped. “Look, Strange, he’s been here for months and hasn’t done anything bad. Those aren’t his intentions.”

“He’s still dangerous,” Doctor Strange stated matter of factly.

“He’s no—.”

“You have no idea what just his presence could do here, okay? Just his being here destabilizes the multiverse and could cause far more harm than he may intend,” Strange raised his voice, just on the edge of condescending despite the glare from Stephen.

“I—is that true?” I stalled thickly, looking over at Stephen for answers.

“It’s hypothetica—.”

“It’s actually very real, thank you,” Strange interrupted. “Incursions are not to be trifled with.”

Stephen scoffed, “Please, I’ve hopped around the multiverse plenty and nev—.”

“Oh my fu…,” Strange trailed off, running a hand over his tired face.

“For good reason! There have been plenty of multiversal disasters prevented thanks to me, your highness. So, you’re welcome for dealing with them before they reached your universe.”

“Coming from someone who has had to rectify his own incursion, they are still not to be brushed off as hypothetical!” Strange stressed.

“I jus—.”

“—Haven’t you ruined enough!?” Strange nearly shouted.

Stephen stopped speaking immediately, suddenly feeling very small despite the power inside him.

“From the looks of it, your universe isn’t doing too hot,” Strange made a show of peering around Stephen. “Then you drove erratically with them in the car and had the audacity to think you could…what? Fix it? Without consequences? Am I on the right track?”

Stephen was still silent.

“Stephen…” I murmured.

“No,” he whispered back. “He’s right.”

“No...,” my eyes widened.

“I’ll leave,” Stephen nodded, finally picking his eyes up and looking at me. “I just wanted more time.”

“Please don’t go,” I pushed forward to the mirror, feeling my throat tightening with every word.

“I have to,” Stephen looked away, the sight of tears pooling in my eyes suddenly too much for him to watch. “You were never mine to have anyway. You’re his.”

Overwhelmed with anger, I hit the wall next to the mirror with my palm and ignored the pain thereafter, “No one owns me! He doesn’t even know me! Not like you do!” I blew up at the mirror. My chest heaved with furious breathing and hitched breaths underneath the sight of tears making their way down my cheeks.

“I know, hey…” Stephen pushed himself part way through the mirror, not caring if Strange protested or not. He pressed his forehead against mine and settled his hands on the outside of my upper arms, rubbing his hands up and down to calm me. “…I know. And I don’t agree with him but…”

“I’m right here,” Strange scoffed distantly.

“…I’m sorry,” Stephen murmured.

I was barely able to brush my lips against his before he was pulling away completely, looking completely dejected and defeated without Strange even having to lift a finger to accomplish it. I slowly stepped back out of shock that this was happening.

“Whatever Multiversal saving you’ve been doing aside…I’m going to need you to respect this for this universe at least,” Strange sighed. “I really don’t want to drag Wong here to help me seal the place up.”

Stephen nodded solemnly.

“You can't make him go!” I suddenly blurted out, grabbing onto Strange’s forearm. “You can’t do this! He just wants to feel again!” Strange kept his arm strong to keep me back from the mirror as my words slowly disintegrated into sobs. My weight shifted ominously making Strange shift to catch me and help lower me to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“Don’t touch me! Get the fuck out of my house!” I pushed him away and used my feet to scoot myself away from him. I pressed my back against the wall, bringing my palms to my eyes and refusing to see Stephen drift away like a dream.

“Doc…” Stephen murmured over my sobs.

Strange closed his eyes and straightened himself up, giving his attention over to the pale face in the mirror.

“You don’t need to do this self-sacrificing stunt that we always pull,” Stephen muttered. “You can still fix things with them.”

“You’re the last person who should be giving advice,” Strange rolled his eyes.

“On the contrary, and don’t look at me like that. I am you. I clocked your idiotic plan a few weeks into being here,” Stephen snapped and then sighed again, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Look, I’ve made a lot of mistakes but them? They were never a mistake.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Strange flicked his eyes over to my curled up ball of a form.

“You’re allowed to feel and be human. You do deserve to be loved and happy.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to love someone or to have them love me,” Strange’s voice wavered. “I’m scared to lose them.”

“So, you keep them at a distance before anything can begin, I get it. But, as much as you think they’re not, they are safer with you. And despite what you’ve pulled so far, they’re forgiving to a fault—given some time. You have a chance still. Take it from me…Don’t. Waste. It. It could be your last one.”

Strange watched as his darker self turned around and walked away, slowly fading out into Strange’s own reflection. With my sobs still filling the suddenly quiet room, Strange stepped carefully out of the room. He waved his hand, making my bedroom door appear again and disappeared through a circle of sparks. The crackling sparks fizzled out moments later, leaving only me to fill the silence.

-

Don't you worry There'll be a time when our hearts beat the same Let life carry Across the distance I still see your flame

The Distance - Poets of the Fall (x)

-

Chapter 8 - Coming Soon

[quackquackcey]

More Than Enough

Rated E, 8k words, 2 chs. Tags: season 2 canon rewrite, 5+1 things, hurt/comfort, fluff & smut, idk. Read on AO3.

Summary:

A story about how Derek managed to find peace in his life amidst the chaos of a murdering reptilian creature, war with the Argents, and his own mind in the arms of a bambi-eyed, pain in the ass boy.~ 🐺

OR

Five times the word ‘prove’ haunted Derek, and the one person who changed it all.~ ✨

“The only way to prove yourself is through blood. Fear. Remember that.”

Peter’s voice ran through his head as he stood over Isaac, Erica, and Boyd groaning in pain on the floor, fear in their eyes as their broken bones mended.

“You think I’m teaching you to fight?” said Derek, voice hard. “I’m teaching you to survive, and you all need to learn everything that I know. As fast as I can teach you.”

And then he disappeared into the abandoned subway train car where he lived, seething, before he broke more bones.

That night, he dreamed of fires, of burnt ash and empty graves.

Of drowning guilt and searing agony.

“Naive, foolish boy.”

A warm laugh, now cold.

“You haven’t changed a bit. When will you prove that you can do more than destroy things?”

He woke up in a sweat, even more tired than before he’d fallen asleep.

Both Peter and his mom’s words echoed in his head throughout the rest of the night, as they had for the past six years, along with his own churning thoughts.

‘Prove yourself.’

Prove that he wasn’t a colossal failure. Prove that he wasn’t a walking harbinger of death. Prove that he was a Hale, that he was stronger now, that no one and nothing would stand in his way any longer.

Prove that he was an alpha.

But god, the exhaustion wore at him. He acted like he knew what he was doing, but he knew nothing, and that chipped away at him bit by bit, just as his family dying had, just as finding Laura ripped in half had, just as killing her murderer and the last surviving member of his family had—and he knew this was only the beginning.

The creature that killed Isaac’s dad, the Argents, and soon, other alphas.

He needed power.

He needed…more.

Not these high schoolers on a power trip who couldn’t even land a single hit on him.

To top it all off, as if things weren’t already beginning to spiral out of his control, of course he got himself paralyzed and near drowning in a pool when he’d gone to get details on what the creature looked like from Stiles.

“I don’t trust you. You don’t trust me,” he’d told Stiles. “You need me to survive, which is why you are not letting me go.”

Stiles let him go, pulled him back up, and got absolutely zero results from trying to call Scott.

An hour passed, or maybe it was two. Derek incrementally sank lower by the minute, but he didn’t say anything because Stiles was sinking, too—at this point, Stiles did not need him to survive if it meant dying in this damn pool.

“Hey, so since it’s looking like we might drown here, I was wondering about something that I read the other day,” spluttered Stiles, because apparently now was a great time for a discussion. “Have you heard of ‘Twilight’? It’s a book series? Has movies?”

Derek just looked at him.

“Okay, well, it’s some fictional universe where there are, like, vampires and werewolves, so I was wondering how true some of the stuff was,” said Stiles.

“…We’re drowning, and you want me to tell you how true a fictional universe is.”

“Hey, tone! I’m the one holding you up here! And if we’re drowning, then it doesn’t really matter how much sense it makes, now does it?”

“If we’re drowning, it doesn’t really matter if you know or not, now does it?”

“Don’t be such a sourwolf.” Stiles nearly sank underwater before kicking harder back up. “Oh god, I can’t keep this up, I need something to hold onto.”

Except there was nothing to hold onto, because it was a fucking swimming pool.

“Just drop me.”

“What?” Stiles spit out water as he struggled to keep their mouths and noses above the surface.

“Just drop me,” repeated Derek, because there were quite literally zero benefits to Stiles continuing to hold him up.

“What, no! What happened to all the bullshit you were spouting about me needing you to survive?”

“We’re both going to die.”

“Has anyone told you what a downer you are?”

They both dipped underwater for a heartstopping second, then up they bobbed once again, coughing up water.

“I thought that’s what ‘sourwolf’ meant.”

A pause.

Stiles spluttered out a laugh. “Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke? Now we really can’t die here so we can celebrate this occasion.” He looked around, breaths coming out heavy. “Okay. Okay, I’m going to try to get to the diving boards.”

Except they floundered and slowed down the nearer they got, and by the time Stiles made it there, he didn’t have enough strength to hold onto the diving board, so down they both sank to their certain deaths until two hands grabbed the both of them and quite literally threw them out of the water.

Continue on AO3!

[yippeecahier]

AITA for insisting on my husband moving his stuff?

This is the kind of thing I'd put on Reddit but with all thats going on, I'm sticking to Tumblr. So I (25 NB) got married to my husband (25 M) on June 24th this year and havent even been married a whole month. We'd talked about boundaries and communication and have had multiple sessions with a premarital and now marital counselor since we got engaged in March. Before that, we dated for 2 years and have known each other and been friends off and on since the 6th grade.

When it comes to boundaries, we have two that are pretty much unshakeable: I need consistent 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the dark (with either white noise or relative silence) and going to bed before midnight, and my husband needs alone time to play games for a few hours a day where no one will walk in (he has scopophobia from childhood trauma where his parents and siblings would barge in and even remove the door and fistfight him so now he interprets pairs of eyes as threats and wont use the university library for this reason; I wish I was joking, but I'm not, and my MIL confirmed this is true because she had my husband as an unstable teen and did, in fact, fist fight him in her 20s). I always thought these were both reasonable boundaries and could be worked with given compromise, but this is somehow more contentious than I thought.

I'm currently living in his 1 bed, 1 bath apartment. I was living out of my suitcase up to and a week after our wedding until our counselor told him he had to make space for me; much to his chagrin, I invited my mom over to help me because I was so overwhelmed by all the boxes from wedding gifts and overwhelmed from the wedding (which is why we didn't leave on a honeymoon right away). Our counselor, and now my parents (who are medical professionals), and two of our friends, say he needs to move his computer out of the bedroom.

I have autism, IBS, and a history of mental illnesses. He will lock the door to the bedroom that contains the only bathroom for hours at a time and take a long time to respond to texts. I will not be able to sleep in the bedroom or use the toilet for long periods of time. I'm exhausted and overwhelming from having to walk to the local stores to use the bathroom, and none of them are 24 hours so after 11pm I'm exhausted and having a really bad time. I live in the downtown area of a big city with him, so I cannot simply find a bush to pee/poo in. On one very humiliating occasion I used an empty food container to eliminate, and threw my waste in the trash because he wouldn't respond to his phone or unlock the door despite my panicked banging.

The stress of it, and being deprived of sleep past 1am every night only to be woken up by our neighbors at 9am is making my IBS worse and has triggered multiple meltdowns and psych episodes the likes of which I haven't seen for >2 years (including trying to walk to the train tracks to kms to escape the hell my brain was putting me through because I wasnt giving it the sleep it needs).

On one particularly bad incident, I was tired and took a nap in the morning after having a meltdown over seeing a dead cockroach in the kitchen during breakfast when my husband set multiple blaring alarms at 5am because he is a deep sleeper even though we went to bed at 2am (I did blow the situation out of proportion, but I was also sleep deprived and actively psychotic as a result). When my husband came back, he came in guns blazing and pulled me out of bed demanding to see the roaches, and expressed frustration that I went back to bed when I was freaking out about the roach over the phone some 15 minutes prior. We got in an argument about if we need to put in a request for pest control, and at one point, I yelled, "FINE, YOU’RE RIGHT AND I'M WRONG," and put my hands on his throat because I got triggered into an episode. I was shaking and asked to leave the conversation multiple times before it got to that point, but he wouldn't let me leave the kitchen - and pulled me back by my arm - until I'd heard a piece of his mind; that combined with waking up suddenly in the middle of my nap to an angry spouse after another successive night of sleep deprivation caused me to become violent whereas I'd never been violent to others in any episode before.

I regret it and apologized fervently and am trying everything I can to prevent that from happening again. I am not a typically violent person, and previous psychotic episodes only resulted in self-harm, not putting my hands on others. However, him not getting with the program I need to stay sane isn't helping. I started screaming and hitting myself during this last meltdown today over coming to a locked bathroom/bedroom door for the 3rd time after being out of the house for him to play games for 6 hours despite having another stress induced IBS episode, and immediately got back in my car to drive to my parent's house without any of my stuff.

I was deprived of sleep for the 3rd night in a row because I'm doing all the housework so he can have his games alone. His gaming computer is in the bedroom, which is locked, and he refuses to listen to requests to move the computer out of the bedroom or unlock the door because of his scopophobia. I can technically sleep on the futon, but I cannot brush my teeth or go to the bathroom because the bathroom is in the bedroom, and sleeping on the futon is interrupted because he refuses to sleep alone and will come out of the bedroom, wake me, and take me to bed with him at 3am.

Yesterday he got crabby because he "didn't get a break," and I told him I felt "hurt because it sounds to me like [he was] not grateful for the two hours I spent cleaning the apartment and dishes" the latter of which is his job, "to give [him] 2 hours to play games," to which he responded that he needs "at least 4 hours," "with the door closed and locked," and "complete silence," and my housework is "too noisy." This does not make sense to me because he cannot hear his phone notifications when I call or text to use the bathroom, and he is playing music. Moreover, knowing that the vacuum cleaner sets us both off, my parents gifted me a Roomba for cleaning that is much quieter, but he won't help to set it up.

He keeps suggesting compromises with my mom, our friends, and our marital counselor. None of them have worked, and none of them he has kept up.

1) My mom offered to buy him an L-shaped desk for him when she comes over next, but now he refuses to have her come over and doesn't want to spend money on an L-shaped desk. He also wants to use the L-shaped desk for everything BUT the tower.

2) We bought an IKEA desk for $10 at Goodwill and got cables for him to move his keyboard, screen, and mouse out of the room, but he refuses to move the tower (which has RGB that won't turn off while he's using it) out of the bedroom. Then, the door will not completely close because of all the cables running through it and I hear his music, games, and keyboard. His reason for not moving the tower? His dad (my FIL) cut the ethernet cable to the exact length for it to be in the bedroom and my husband wants to be able to lock the door to the bedroom and bathroom during the day (which he can stay there and play games all day, but don't lock the door to the only bathroom, I have literal IBS that will NOT wait. I already soiled a pair of shorts.)

3. My friend stayed with us for a bit while in transitory housing, which is how he justified locking the door (to masturbate without being walked in on). But even after our friend showed him how to turn on notifications from favorite contacts when he puts his phone on Do Not Disturb, he still silences his phone and locks the door.

4. We negotiated together with the marital counselor a possible compromise where I "own" the bedroom for 12 hours at night and he "owns" the bedroom for 12 hours during the day so that he can play games during the day at noon instead of at, say, 2am. He suggested implementing this the week after our wedding. It didn't happen, I brought it up with the counselor. He says it's because he's "on vacation" but we'll implement come July. It's a week into July and it still hasn't happened. I told him I need a functioning sleep schedule for my job two weeks BEFORE I start or I'll have a psych episode at work and get fired, and he agreed, and I still came home to a locked bedroom/bathroom door TODAY.

5) We talked about getting a two bedroom condo that's a walking distance from his university. His assets plus my salary (I'm the breadwinner right now while he's in college but he was in the military and has $40k in savings and $50k in stocks), and we qualify for up to $400k on our mortgage. He refuses to close on the 2 bedroom/2 bathroom condo I requested that's a 5 minute walk from his classes because it's "too expensive" at $375k, and he insists on a 2 bedroom/1 bathroom place for $315k that's a 15 minute walk from his campus. Even though I told him my IBS requires I have access to a bathroom at all times, he still will spend over an hour on the toilet watching YouTube even if he's not "sequestering" to play games. I won't hear a peep from him about sharing a bathroom to save $60k unless he changes his behavior. This also is the driving force behind why I want to try to move into a two bedroom condo ASAP, even though our lease ends in mid-November. He refuses because he doesn't want to pay rent for the apartment while we have a mortgage OR sublease/AirBnB it OR break the lease. I have argued with support from our realtor, mortgage broker, and my parents, that now is the time to find and close on a home because it's a several months long process, especially since we're using VA loans.

Moreover, his ass has the audacity to repeatedly twist my arm about having a baby. When we first got married, I said, "Sure, we can have kids; but first I have to find a way to be mentally stable without medications for a year straight while living with you before I can carry a viable pregnancy. I've been stable and unmedicated before, but that stability requires consistent sleep, a regular and highly regimented schedule, and consistent vigorous exercise to work." We're nowhere near that, (I fucking put my hands on him during an episode and even my OBGYN said given my medical history its not a question of if I'll get postpartum depression but when,) and he keeps asking me to schedule an appointment to change my birth control to something other than an IUD.

I'm an adult, I can leave my husband alone for 4 hours in complete silence with some effort and some frustration, but A BABY fucking won't, because it can't. It needs your attention every 2 hours to eat or poop or what have you. His kid cannot find something else to do like I can to leave him in silence most of the day unless they're in school (by age 5 and only during the schoolyear) or can drive (by age 16), but definitely not all night at any point between their birth and them moving out (given current economic trends, this wont be economically feasible until our kid is 30). Plus, the kid would occupy our 2nd bedroom in the condo and then I'd have to figure out how to get sleep in my husband's room and (share a bathroom if we go with his insisitence on a 1 bathroom cheaper condo) despite my IBS with TWO human beings, when sharing with one is hard enough.

We agreed to getting me a service animal from a program in Canada I'd been on the waiting list for since 2019, and the animal is available for me to take home this summer. I am going to Canada by myself because my husband doesn't have a passport, but we're meeting in New York to drive home together in a rental car with the animal. My parents understandably think this is an additional stressor since now I'm taking care of not only me and my husband, but also an animal. But I need something to step in and perform tasks to mitigate/alert to psych episodes.

Today he hugged me and told me he loved me and was so glad he "married [me]" because I "enhance [his] life every moment," but it feels like lip service when he won't move the computer or implement any of the possible solutions we came up with above. I wish I could say the same. I feel like my life is actually worse since I moved in. I'm contemplating quitting the new job, going back to my old one, and living with my parents until he can get his shit together enough that I can actually sleep and use the bathroom like a normal person.

I can't live with him like this, or one of us will get very badly hurt. I start work in two weeks, and need to be at work by 7am every day, so I cannot be stable enoigh to keep a job if I'm having psych episodes because I'm going to bed after midnight whenever he's feeling kind enough to remember me and unlock the bedroom door. I need two weeks to reset my sleep schedule. He says he understands after I scared him when I put my hands on him, and after each and every sleep-deprivation induced meltdown, but I feel like he really doesn't because none of his behavior has changed.

You are welcome to reblog to give an in-depth response if it doesn't fit in replies or DM me if you want it to be private. I'm desperate for help. He's not a bad guy. Everyone says that it's very apparent he loves me. He's my best friend, and I love him, but my health, sanity, and, in turn, our marriage are at stake if this doesn't get solved and soon.

[flowersarefreetherapy]

Fever

For @whumpawoman’s Whump Girl Summer: Day 2, Fever

CW: Fever, lightly implied past violence, bbu universe

“Jenna?”

Ash walks into the living room, hands still damp from using the bathroom. She sighs in relief when she sees them. It’s been long enough for her to start worrying. They’ve been strangely silent all day and the piano has remained unplayed in the sunroom. 

“Yes, Ash?” She asks. It’s still weird, even after all this time, to be using their name instead of a title. But they rejected all titles from the moment she was given to them and told her to only use their name. 

“My head hurts.”

“Was your hair up for a long time?”

They shake their head. “No, I’ve had it down all day. But my head hurts and I’m really hot.”

“May I touch your forehead?”

They nod and she presses the back of her head to their forehead, then cheek. The heat coming off their skin twists her stomach. Master and Mistress aren’t coming back from the gala for several hours. She doesn’t know who to call. Their grandparents live six hours away, and she doesn’t think this is bad enough for an ambulance. 

Think, Jenna, think. You’ve been trained for this. What did you do there? When someone was sick?

They trained them, back in the white walls and twisting corridors, on how to help someone with a high fever. Practicing on Guards with their skin torn from their bones and Romantics exhausted with nothing but plastic smiles and other Domestics whose bodies can’t keep up with the strain of working. 

Jenna forces herself to take a deep breath and smile. “It’ll be okay. I think you just have a bad fever.”

Ash shakes their head. “No, I can’t be sick! I have a recital in two days and I have to practice!”

“I know, but you have to rest. Otherwise, you’re going to make it a lot worse.”

Ash sharply turns away, focusing their gaze on the far wall. Jenna waves her hand in their peripheral vision, but they don’t turn to look at her. With a sigh, she stands and waits. Ultimately it’s their decision. She can only offer so much of her opinion. 

You are not their friend. You are not their parent. You are their tool, to help them connect with the world. You shouldn’t even be speaking to them like this.

Jenna flinches, expecting a blow, but Ash has never hit her. Not out of anger at her, at least. There were several times when they were younger and frustrated over the world, but that was understandable. She feels the same anger, hidden far down in her heart where it can eat away at the resentment buried there too. 

Finally, Ash turns back to her and says, “Fine. I’ll rest.”

Their signs are sharp and fast, but the glassy sheen of their eyes tells a different story. Jenna smiles and dips her head. 

“Thank you.”

“I want to rest out here, though. Can you get my computer and blankets?”

Jenna nods. “Would you like something to drink? You also need to stay hydrated.”

“I suppose Dr. Pepper isn’t an option?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

Ash rolls their eyes. “Fine. Then I’ll take some apple juice. I think we still have some left over from Christmas. And a glass of water too. I’m going to be the most hydrated you’ve ever seen.” 

“That’s a good choice. I don’t want the fever to get worse.”

“Yeah, that would be bad for you,” Ash laughs. They walk towards the couch, already focused on the television remote. 

Jenna watches them, a heavy weight dragging her heart down. Right. Ash is her owner. Not a friend, never a friend. 

“Yes,” she whispers. “That would be.”

[antigonenikk]

do i dare // disturb the universe?

chapter 1/2/?

pairing: john “bucky” egan/eugene sledge

summary: Eugene Sledge and John Egan are both adrift in the wake of the War. They find each other in a small bar in a small corner of Chinatown. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Chapter 2: april is the cruelest month

“April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

A little life with dried tubers.

Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee

With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,

And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,

And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.”

——————————————————————

New York isn’t what he was expecting. He’d never been of course. He’d been to San Diego technically, for all that being stuck inside the barracks for two days before shipping out again to Alabama counter as “being in a city.” But the only real city he’d ever lived in had been Peking. He’d developed an idea subconsciously that New York would be the same. That the streets would smell of wood burning coal and fry-oil, that there would be streets crowded with sprawling marketplaces. That there would be labyrinthian alleyways and war torn buildings and giant palace complexes.

New York was not the same. The people seemed alien to him. Just as alien as the ones back home in Alabama. Their faces looked through him, leaving him a deep sense of panic that he had turned invisible. That he was a ghost. The streets smelled of baking bread and wet asphalt, and the noise of thousands of people all speaking English at once overlapped and brought him back to Pavuvu. When they’d all been living on top of one another, trying to pretend the world wasn’t ending.

It was unfamiliar. But it wasn’t all bad. He’d quickly found a place near Times Square, lured in by the neon lights and the friendly crossdressers prowling for rough trade. It felt liberating, to be here, to be alive and not in hiding. He’d remember what Shelton had told him. About the Red Light District down in New Orleans. How boys would cruise by the dockyards. He hadn’t believed it, not really. But it was true. There were people like him. Hundreds of them.

He didn’t dare touch anybody. Didn’t go out at night with desire on his mind. The wound of waking up cold and alone on that overnight train still stung a bit too deep. And besides, he’d always been a bit of a hopeless romantic at heart. The idea of cruising made him feel uncomfortable. Akin to jumping into the line of fire just to feel something. Instead he spent his days trying to figure out how to spend his unemployment. He had six more months of it left. And then it was pick a college or get a job. The possibility that he would choose wrong. That he’d waste the sum he’d earned through unwilling murder made him sweat. So he distracted himself. Spent hours at the bookstore, wandered the streets of lower Manhattan. Always somehow made his way to Chinatown by nightfall. And wasn’t that a gas. He thought he’d find something familiar there, but instead of Mandarin everyone was speaking Cantonese. And there were no families in sight. Just worn down men like himself. He’d found a bar though. A little place that reminded him of where he, Shelton and Burgie would go when they got Rec Passes. A hole in the wall with cheap beer and soft music. He’d sit in the corner sipping on drink after drink until it hit midnight. Then he’d drift over to the streets, empty as they could be, and try to clear his mind. Replace it with the sound of his feet moving one two three four. Marching easy like at base camp when they got far enough away from the huts. It didn’t seem to matter at night that you were lonely. With the sun gone down there was no one left to see. Almost like it never had happened at all. None of it.

That night he was feeling sorer than usual. He’d been at the butcher’s earlier when a car backfired. And he recalled with humiliation how he’d dropped to the floor like a sack of bricks, hands reaching for a sidearm that wasn’t there anymore. It had felt like eyes were on him. Like the whole store was staring. And so he’d ran out, kept running until his lungs started to ache. And spent the next hour curled in an alleyway for better cover, packing and repacking his pipe, not seeing much of anything at all. Now he was trying to return to normalcy. Beat down the shame. A glass of bitter Tsingtao in front of him. The place was filling up quick for a weeknight. And suddenly it just wasn’t worth it. Didn’t feel right. He wanted to be alone and to wallow and to curse at fucking everything that had led him to this point. He felt the inner lining of his jacket for his little Bible and tried to breathe. Getting up he strode towards the door, going for calm, hand on the book the entire time gripping.

And then his feet were knocked from underneath him and he landed hard onto his palms, hard. Groaning, he felt rage growing quick inside of him, begging for a release. He turned his head and felt himself torn between completely annoyance and unwilling attraction at the blue eyes and smiling face that stared down at him. He settled for an unimpressed scoff.

——————————————————————

New York was….well. It was. In a lot of ways it was like London. The only real city he’d had time to experience. The buildings were just as tall. Although these ones weren’t bombed out. Destroyed by the hand of some dumbass kid playing God, little toy soldiers collapsing into coffins. The buildings in New York were tall, and filled with pomposity. Just like the people. At first he barely noticed it. Off from Port Authority he’d made his way to Manhattan. Everyone was getting hitched and moving to the damn suburbs, so it hadn’t been hard to find a studio in a less than glamorous spot of town. After finally finding a place (a whole fucking week of living in a dirty ass hotel was starting to get to him) he holed up. Bought half a liquor store’s worth of booze, a carton of cigarettes and a month’s worth of canned food and just did nothing. Slept with a blanket on the cold floor, unable to bear the thought of buying a mattress. He checked the taps every few hours to make sure he still had water. He checked the cupboards four times a day to make sure he had enough food. And he let the panic run its course. Let it flood into and through him. He was all on his own now for the first time in five years. It felt alien. To not have someone lying beside you. To have enough to eat and drink. To be able to hear yourself really think. The silence rang heavy and weighed on him. And after two weeks he decided being a hermit wasn’t for him after all. And so he set out on the town. But man, he couldn’t stand most of the people.

He knew people now. Knew of people at least. Knew which bars were cheap, which folks were generous and would let him mooch. Knew the name of the baker and the grocer and the butcher and knew the price of a loaf of bread to the letter. But friends were off the table. It felt like everyone in the city was looking down on him. Looking at his sunken cheeks and his dead eyes and his twitching arm. Couldn’t stand it. So he rode the subway instead. The novelty of it hadn’t warn off. And even though his feet ached like a bitch he’d make a game of picking a random direction and just walking. Up the subway steps and through the alleyways, the long meandering streets. It felt a bit like the March. A bit like home. But that thought made him feel….But he didn’t think about the March, so it was fine. He played darts at bars all over the city. Got drunk as all hell and made a fool of himself. Listened to enough jazz to make his ears bleed. God. The jazz. Really that was the only time he was happy. He’d pick a spot. Any club in town. And fuck were there a lot of them. He’d sit and he’d watch the bands play. Good bands. Bad bands. God awful bands. It didn’t matter. The music sang through him. Made him want to bust up and dance and laugh and cry that he was alive at all. He lived for the nights. Lived for the music. That was reason enough to while away the days. Even if he didn’t have Buck anymore. Even if he was a shell of the man who was once a respected Major, he had the music.

That night he’d made a detour. Figured it would be funny to head down to Chinatown. See if Chinese drink had anything on Irish Whiskey. See if Chinese music had anything on American. He picked a small place, lit up with quaint little red lanterns that reminded him of the fireflies back home in Wisconsin. Except he didn’t think about Wisconsin. So he sat and smoked half a pack of cigarettes. One by one. Sipping on the oddly bitter beer the bartender had handed him, the name of which he couldn’t pronounce.

He could feel himself relaxing finally, a hazy buzz coming over him, when he turned and saw the Little Doll. Didn’t know how else to describe him. The kid, couldn’t be older than twenty one, was hunched over in the corner. His hair gleaming bright red beneath the lights. His face was an unearthly sort of white. The kind of white that reminded him of his sister’s dolls. He used to touch their cheeks when he was little. Amazed at how pure and clean the porcelain looked. Amazed that anything could be so untouched by living. The boy didn’t look untouched by living. His eyes were big and downturned and achingly empty. Cow’s eyes. Doll’s eyes. Sad little things. John heard him talking to another patron briefly and had to do a double take. The kid could actually speak Chinese. After that he tried to not look at all. But the buzz was gone. All that was left was a restless feeling. The need to constantly look over his shoulder and check that the Little Doll was still there. He felt giddy and stupid and old.

He got up to leave, drowning the rest of his piss poor drink in one go, and stumbled on the next step, watching as if in slow motion as the Doll tripped over his foot and went sprawling. Fuck. That had to have hurt. John felt himself grinning for a reason he couldn’t explain. For a moment he was a kid back on the school yard, getting ready to pull at some girl’s pigtails. He cleared his throat and reached his hand out determined to help, maybe. And then Doll turned around and he was met with the nastiest little look he’d ever gotten outside of when he’d dumped a whole bucket of ice-water over Buck’s head their second week into Basic. And he couldn’t help it. Really. He started to laugh.

He felt his hand shoved away with more power than he would have expected as Doll sprung up, glare still fixed to his pretty face, sneering out in a deep southern drawl, “Get outta my way, puhlease.”

He could feel the patented John Egan grin, the one that annoyed Buck to hell and back, making its way across his face as if it belonged there, even though it had been MIA for two years now. There was no way in hell he was about to do that.

[skoff-the-artist]

Hi :)

Since it's New Year, I wanted to share my story with you. This post is pretty personal to me. Just beware. It's heavy. I will be telling you some important stuff in the end tho :)

TW for everything (I tried to avoid graphic details but my life is graphic, so) but this is a story with a happy ending!

2022 was rough. My English knowledge wouldn't be enough to describe how rough it was. This year started off..not good. I was depressed and tired after a really heavy December of 2021 during which I was preparing for the finals and supporting my grandma while my mom was in the hospital (she was suspected of having cancer but everything ended well).

The only hope I had was for the spring to come and sun to shine and let me enjoy things. I dreamt of green, of blue, of warmth of the future and it was the only thing that got me through January and almost the entirety of February.

Maybe you know, maybe you don't, but I'm Ukrainian. So the happy 2022 spring never happened. I live in the eastern region, 40km from the border with russia. 24.02.2022 I woke up at 5AM from the explosions that have shaken the glass in my windows. My mom told me "Pack up your things, the war has started". Good thing I prepared everything few days before. It wasn't shocking. I just accepted it as the logical continuation of all the shit I've been through.

We moved downtown to grandma's flat from the outskirts where we lived. First night I slept in the cold underground train with many people just like me. Scared. Artillery shelling didn't stop. I moved to live with my friend's family few blocks away from my grandma's flat, where my mom stayed. Our city was getting destroyed. We've seen it, heard it, felt it. The ground shook nonstop. It was terrifying. It was dark at night: light in houses wasn't allowed so the enemy bombers won't see the city from the sky. They saw. We heard bombs fall on us every night. We couldn't sleep, so we slept 1-2 hours between shellings during the day. On the floor, of course, so the glass from the windows won't hurt us if it was to blow up from the blast wave.

We (me and two of my best friends) quickly accepted our deaths, so we made jokes all the time. We were laughing hysterically when the bombers flew over the house bc "what, you have no hobbies? Fly away and dо something, bitch!". When it was artillery, we covered our ears up and sang, laying face down on the floor. I turned the music on my phone up. We hoped that if someone has to die today, it wouldn't be us.

Dozens of civilians died daily. In their own houses, in their beds, under the rubble.

My grandma died of stress on March 1. Our small family became even smaller. I felt numb. Me and my mom fled to another city on March 4. Two of my friends stayed in our hometown and third one fled to Poland.

It was snowing when we left.

And so the spring began.

I can't remember much from that time. In the new city it was.. quiet. Bright at night. Peaceful (almost, as there still were some rocket hits during my half year stay). I didn't feel like I belonged. Kids were laughing on the streets, grocery shops were full with food. And there was I. Alone. It didn't felt like my soul was in pieces, it felt like it was dust.

I read news. Seen horrific photos of familiar buildings turned to some stone and dirt overnight. It was so so painful. It changed me as a person, really. I didn't notice passing of time, just existed from day to day. Tried to keep up with school, did some assignments on autopilot. I didn't even cry.

And I still had to finish school and go to university.

Somewhere around April, when I started to catch up on life again, I got back into Transformers. Now I had plenty of time to watch, read, draw and think so I did just that. And it brought me comfort. During May I finished reading Lost Light, created my first Tumblr blog, graduated in fcking Zoom celebrated my 17th birthday. I allowed myself some hope. As funny as it sounds, Transformers healed me in a way! I heavily associate myself with the characters, who had to go through war, who saw their home getting destroyed but still value morals and their friends. Summer was calm, although my hometown suffered from shellings everyday. When attacks stopped for a bit, I visited my home twice. During my first visit I met my friends and went to school to greet my teachers while my mom collected some stuff from our flat. During my second visit I cried in my own room for the first time in months and nearly died an hour later when our bus got under the shelling but despite this I was happy because it still was MY city, familiar views and familiar people.

Back into our temporary flat in another city, I often went to feed the seagulls on the cost of the river Dnipro. I stargazed at night, looking for constellations. I found peace in those little moments. I also drew A LOT. And loved every second of it. Really helps to get that heaviness of your chest. You helped me, too. Your support of my work surprised me! Many people were interested in my AU, it was unexpected, but quite nice :)

And during the summer I learned how to genuinely smile again. I lacked one thing – my home.

I got accepted into the academy's of arts and design! I found two new friends! In September our troops cleared the area around my city, so the artillery shellings stopped entirely. And closer to the October I MOVED BACK BABY. It was my own choice and I don't regret it. My mom supported me, saying that life can't be put on hold, and if you have to be at home in order to live, then so be it.

I CAN FINALLY REST ON MY OWN BED, SIT IN MY OWN CHAIR, LOOK OUT OF MY WINDOWS (one of which was broken bc our apartment building got hit twice during shellings) AND MEET MY FRIENDS FREQUENTLY. And, what's important, I still can draw. I'm so grateful for this.

Learning process started. I am constantly tired, not of drawing but of the quantity of the assignments I have to finish. My sleep schedule got fucked up really bad. I suffer from PTSD, I'm scared of loud noises, I developed a deep hatred inside of me during this year, my life is one huge reminder of what I have to live through daily, missile strikes never stopped, and because of that we often have no electricity nor water, I wake up from distant explosions at least once a week, war still rages just around the corner.

But.

I'm a fighter, bitch!

And IDC. My city is actively getting rebuilt, shops reopen, public transportation works as good as ever, streets are clean. I still enjoy things, laugh, meet my friends, colour my hair (I'm a redhead rn!), sleep with plushies, listen to music, read comics, think about something new I could draw and post, go outside, cry reading optiratch fanfiction, do my nails and LIVE. Maybe I'm not as happy as I could be but I'm still here, with you. I'm alive.

Transformers grew close to me because there's so much I have to tell you through the characters that I love. I understand them and I feel like they could understand me if they were real. And if you understand them that means you can understand me, too! I value it over anything else.

Before 2023 starts I want you to know. Not everything means to be restored. But if something is to be restored, it will be. Wounds heal. There always will be people who'd understand you and love you for who you are. Bad things will end eventually, even longest wars always ended. Value everything you have, every breath is precious, every quiet night is priceless. Look at the night sky more often. Unite with others, spend time with your family and friends. Keep living!

As you reading this, I'm celebrating New Year with my friends.

Google "Kharkiv", it's a beautiful place.

[hannshines]

Hunger Games x FlintWood Au

Hi if you're new, a long time ago I came up with an idea of a FlintWood Au set in the hunger games and I made two posts with images just to give this Au a face, I also started a fic called "Dream Brother" which I posted in Ao3 trying to follow this idea (which got stranded in chapter 8 with a very bad English).

But you know what, screw my fic hahahahahahahahahahaha, no matter how much I've done to get free time, nothing comes out of my head, not because I don't even know how to continue it, no, in my head I put together a three part plot of that fic to save me all that planning time because I'm a little stressed and burned out because my university and my only problem is that I don't know how to develop it.

And after surviving a category 5 hurricane, where my life passed in a span of 3 hours and I went without electricity for more than two weeks after that, I don't want to stay without telling you the thread of this story or even without telling you the ideas I had.

So Welcome to a post explaining all the plot I had for this story.

Starting in my idea about a three parts plot for Dream Brother was to focus in each part on one of the three main characters of the story having clearly still the focus on FlintWood and his development

Part.1: Marcus (his first games and how he met Oliver as well as their development while participating in the games for his sister) - here

Part 2: Daphne (On her attempt to get out as a district escort in the ministry)

Part 3: Adrian (In his development in the last games that i had planned for the story, before the fall of the ministry)

Part 1.

If you come from my fic you know very well what the thing was about, if not, Marcus Flint is 24 years old is from district seven and lives with his mother (who is a winner) and his younger sister in the winner's village, in Marcus's last reaping his sister is chosen to participate in the games, so in an attempt to try to be a good brother he applies the "I offer myself as a tribute" so that his sister does not go because she is only 14 years old, but it does not work out so well since being sections of women and men separated he has no choice but to also participate in the games as a partner of his sister, obviously after this, he travels to the ministry (tribute parade and training sessions) and he begins to meet the other important characters for the part.

Daphne Greengrass: The girl escort of district 6 which particularly is 21 years old and for Marcus is strange that someone so young is escort, has been working in the games for 6 years and has been the youngest to start.

Adrian Pucey: His mentor in the games which Marcus knows relatively well as they are almost "neighbors", he won his games when he was 16 years old and since he started being a mentor has not led anyone to victory.

Oliver Wood: The aforementioned Oliver Wood the boy from district 4 whom Marcus finds particularly attractive and good at fighting but stupidly sentimental and that he has his moral code of not killing anyone in the games.

Percy Weasley: The mentor of district 4, Oliver's best friend since childhood and who always seems to be about to die of stress because no one listens to him, bad at fighting but stupidly smart.

Demelza Robinson: Oliver's district partner and Oliver's childhood friend, good fighter who seems to look down on everyone with hatred and has a thing against Marcus' sister.

Cassius Warrington: The tribute from district 6, who ends up creating a friendship with Marcus and he is afraid of heights.

Sally Ann Perks: The girl from district 2 who should be part of the prefects but hates her district partner and preferred to stay away, good at animal trapping

Lucian Bole and Astoria Greengrass: The two stylists of his district.

Katie Bell: The escort of district 4 that Marcus doesn't consider a ministry girl as with Daphne since there seems to be something different with her.

The prefects: The alliance of the first two districts consisting of Perengrine Derrick (District 1), Millicent Bulstrode (District 1), Miles Bletchey (District 2).

Leanne Moore: Warrington's District partner, whom Marcus considers the most unnoticed of all, Warrington says he doesn't know her very well but Leanne knows Cass very well.

Colin Creevey: The youngest of the District 8 tributes, bad at fighting but seems to know everything about everyone.

Lavander Brown: Colin Creevey's district mate, not a blunt threat.

Theodore Nott: District 1 stylist, friend? Of Daphne, it's his third year working at the games.

Blaise Zabini: District 1 Escort, one of Daphne's best friends who started working for the games long after she did, this is his second year working for the games.

For the interviews the plan that Adrian and Daphne put together for Marcus and Amelia is to follow a game of brothers who would kill for each other being a team, but thanks to the interview of Demelza and Oliver (who were going to invent a romance to look for a minimal chance of both surviving) which goes wrong, Rita Skeeter (the host) end up making a broken phone and making the public believe that who Oliver is really possibly in love with is Marcus and not his partner, this plan changes.

Percy trying to save Oliver's reputation (and without either of his two tributes knowing it) asks Adrian to play along with the idea, Daphne refuses to go along, possibly endangering Amelia, but Adrian sees it as an opportunity to get sponsors and convinces Marcus to play along.

A fight between Marcus and Oliver after the interview because of the way Marcus talked about Oliver, who although he managed to follow the game and get involved in a rumor of a love trio between Demelza, Oliver and him, Oliver is annoyed by the way he referred to him, making him look like a "girl" and Marcus is also angry with him because according to him he is doing him a favor and the other one doesn't thank him.

When the games start they have no choice but to continue with the facade of the lovers, a lot of context about Amelia and Marcus's past, the death of his father, blah blah sentimental stuff.

Development between Marcus and Oliver's relationship that they end up taking being alone a lot of the time.

Sally Anne asks Marcus for an alliance with the only condition that he helps her to kill Miles Bletchey and she would also help in "protecting" her sister if the occasion arises, Warrigton joins them and puts the condition that they do not kill Leanne if she is found and promises that neither she nor Warrigton will do anything to her sister as well as she will help to get rid of Bletchey and the prefects, friendship is friend that cute the ones from Slytherin and AJA.

And here starts to be the thing, the prefects are always 4 or more, never of the never are less, so to Sally Anne not being with them, the rumor was armed that possibly someone else is the four prefect but nobody knows who can be, Marcus really does not trust anyone in the games, the only ones he trusts apart from his sister is Warrington, a little Sally Anne and obviously Oliver.

Because of Oliver, who clearly tells him about Demelza and how they've known each other for years and how he promises him that he can trust her too, Marcus starts to trust Demelza but Amelia doesn't, siblings fight, doesn't matter much because in the end they see that Demelza after being alone with the two of them hasn't done anything and the thing goes on.

Marcus after Cassius is killed starts to doubt that someone is telling his plans, but for him that doesn't make sense either because in reality NOBODY has seen them enough and the only person that Marcus told a little of their plans of where they were going to go or what they were going to do is Oliver, Sally Anne is killed after she killed Millicent in her tried to killed Bletchey (yes she left him whitouts a part of his arm) and the thing started to get more suspicious towards Oliver, because none of the two remaining male prefects went.

When the games advance a little more the news that two tributes from the same district can survive realese, because of some problems and traps Amelia was with Oliver and Marcus just trying to find her in the most desperate way after that news, Amelia panics to be alone with Oliver and although the other tells him not to worry that he will help her to find Marcus and each one will be for his side after that, Demelza arrives and tries to attack Amelia but she manages to escape.

There is a fight between Oliver and Demelza because that was not part of his plan and he was not going to let her kill Marcus' sister, Demelza is angry because if it is not Amelia and Marcus it will be some of them who will end up dead and both of them end up going their separate ways.

Just when Marcus finds Amelia she is killed by Derrick turning Marcus endless feelings and changing his plans.

No, he still has the idea that he won't win, but if people are unfair he will be unfair too and literally now he starts looking to kill any of the tributes he comes across (there were about 8 counting Marcus) and mostly the perfect ones, with the exception of Oliver and Demelza who are the only couple left as tributes and literally the only chance for two of them to survive.

He is doing them the favor just to get even for the prefects killed his sister, a fight between Oliver and Demelza, because Oliver starts to question how they knew where Amelia had gone if the last ones to see her were the two of them and the cannon sounded in less than an hour, and Demelza tells him to stop fooling around and from now on they better stay together, since they are the only pair of tributes left alive.

Marcus in his hunt for the prefects meets Bletchey who ends up being afraid and tells him the whole truth that the fourth prefect all this time had been Demelza who promised them to finish with Marcus in exchange for leaving Oliver alive until the end and if there are no more tributes left than them because clearly it was going to be combat only between them.

Marcus gets angry with Demelza but most of all with Oliver because in all this time he only trusted her because of Oliver and he thinks that Oliver surely knew all that too.

Most of the remaining ones die, Marcus finally meets Demelza at a time when Oliver was not there, difficult fight in which Oliver arrives later and obviously on Demelza's side, because he won't let them kill his friend (And he doesn't understand what's going on) quidditch symbolism between the guardian and a chaser, because Oliver's fight style is not to kill but to protect and protect himself while Marcus is a direct attack.

He leaves Oliver badly wounded and out of the fight and Marcus finally manages to kill Demelza (with a very iconic phrase that he had in his mind because the story is called Dream Brother for a reason) BUT he doesn't kill Oliver, literally Oliver almost almost asks him to kill him, because he doesn't know at what moment they got to that point but Marcus doesn't listen to him and literally tells him a furtive threat that he will live with everything that happened there and leaves.

Marcus is left bad after that fight so when he meets Drerrick who is the last one left, the fight gets a little complicated, he leaves Marcus almost dead but Oliver arrives to save him.

Drerrick dies and here the show begins, it's easy for Marcus to say that simply if Oliver isn't going to kill him he can leave him to bleed out and likewise he's going to die leaving Oliver the winner, but Oliver does neither, a drama because Oliver out of nowhere starts crying and Marcus is confused because he doesn't know what the hell is going on and why the other is crying.

Oliver is the really pretty when you cry

And Oliver says loudly that if Marcus dies he dies too, still going on with the lovers drama (which escalated because everyone in the ministry thought the whole Marcus sister dying is was actually the love triangle and Demelz trying to get Oliver) Marcus tells him what the hell he's doing and to cut the crap, the most forced kiss of life and the only one they give each other in all this time, a slight fight and a struggle between the two because Oliver literally tries to kill himself to manipulate the ministry because not being from the same obvious district the one winner rule came back.

Oliver my less suicidal friend almost bleeds to death because he didn't lie that if there weren't two winners there wouldn't be any and finally they decree them both winners despite being from different districts and obviously before Marcus faints bleeding to death Oliver informs him that he is also going to live with everything he did there.

And end of the story with the first part.

This is just from everything that happened in the games but I was also going to add the lives of the people in the ministry, Adrian and Daphne trying to get sponsors which didn't seem to be difficult because Marcus is a favorite, which is weird to Daphne.

An existential feud between Daphne and in her life because obviously Daphne is not just an escort if not being used for other things, all the bullshit involved in being called a Hallow.

In my story I put that Hallows, are certain winners who do their little jobs with people from the ministry (the favorites), the term is supposed to be used only with the winners but they also started to use it with Daphne as she is Tom Riddle's favorite, which is like an insult to her because she is not from the districts if not a citizen of the ministry, and Daphne actually can almost influence for many things in the games because of her closeness with Riddle.

My less depressive friend Adrian positing after Amelia is killed that this is the precise reason he never wants to return to the ministry every year.

How it really affected both Adrian and most of all Daphne the death of Amelia even though the latter only knew her less than a week, parallels between Daphne/Astoria and Marcus/Amelia.

A rumor starts to spread within the ministry as apparently the Flint surname has been heard since before Marcus arrived, which is the reason why Daphne start to investigaste that part an that.

I really regret not being able to finish that fic, I really wanted to finish it but I don't want to do something ugly either hahahaha, because I'm not the best writer, I had thought about everything else but let's go in parts and relax, anyway hahahahahaha if there are curiosities I'm open to questions, I never refuse.

I even have a saved pinterest pin of costumes, I really liked the image I had of Oliver's costume in they interviews, 10/10 looks in my head, i probably post that later.