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leslovesfatties · 7 months

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Pt. 1: first flight

Idk I was feeling super mushy so I wrote this in like 3 hours lol soft BHM/FFA fiction…should I continue it?

First time flying in two years…and back then it was a squeeze. Determined not to embarrass myself, I called ahead.

“TWO tickets?”

“Yes, sir. But there’s no guarantee the second seat won’t be sold if it’s a particularly full flight.”

I gulped and hesitated. “Okay…so that means I’m paying for a seat I might not get?”

“That’s correct.” Not a hint of sympathy in her voice.

What other choice did I have? “Okay, then. I guess I’ll take the window and middle seat. Oh, and I’ll probably need a seatbelt extender.” Even saying the words made my face flush. I can’t believe I’d let myself get like this. The voice on the other end of the phone either sighed, coughed, or stifled a laugh. I couldn’t be sure which, and I didn’t exactly want to know.

My alarm fades out as I desperately want to hit snooze. I get up, wash my face, and try to keep my anxiety at bay. It’s going to be fine. I got TWO seats. I won’t bother anyone. I put on a little extra deodorant in between my folds and under my moobs. A little cologne for good measure and a crisp shirt. I don’t want people to think I’m some sort of lazy, unkempt slob. I actually really care about my appearance. My face stays neatly shaven, my hair styled, and clothes - when I can find them in my size - are reasonably tasteful. My glasses frames are updated each year in an attempt to elevate my look, or at least take people’s glances away from other parts.

At the airport, I grab a bagel and a coffee, then wait as close to the line as I can to board. Don’t panic. You’re going to fit. Everything’s going to be fine. It’s a short flight, anyways. A mantra I’ve begun to chant in my head as the boarding process begins. I offer a smile to the man who scans my barcode for two tickets and he looks up for the second passenger.

“Oh, uh, it’s just for me.” He acknowledges by nodding me over to continue boarding. I practically hold my breath as I wedge myself between the aisle. Most people brace their carry ons, but I have to brace myself.

Thankfully, no one is in my row, otherwise they’d have to get up to let me through. I plop down and immediately appreciate the forethought to buy two seats. I’m positively squished between the plane wall and armrest.

“Um, excuse me?” Fuck. I look up.

“Are those your bags? Do you want me to put them up here?

“Uh, I’m actually supposed to have this seat.” I try to speak just loud enough for her to hear and no other passengers. She glances down at her phone and back up.

“23 B?” My face flushes as I realize what’s happened. They’ve given up my seat.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I stutter, utterly embarrassed. “I was supposed to…They weren’t supposed to -“ The line behind her grew and we were drawing attention.

“That’s okay! Here,” she reached for my bag and in a daze, I handed it to her. She was so short she couldn’t get it in the overhead compartment all the way and I wanted to disappear. She scooted in and I tried leaning as far as I could into the wall, my side squishing into her armrest. At that moment, I realized I forgot to ask for the seatbelt extender. My ears started ringing and I desperately wanted to get off this flight.

“I’m so sorry…” I began, but she cut me off.

“For what? Don’t apologize.” She finished shoving her bag under her seat and smiled at me.

An older gentleman plopped down next to her and scowled at me. I looked down as he muttered something I was grateful I couldn’t understand. Fuck. How am I going to get the extender now?

“Um, excuse me?” I leaned over slightly to look at the man who’d just joined our row. I’d just about rather die than have to move. He looked up.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get up.”

The man scowled. “Ugh, shouldn’t they have weight limits on these things?” My heart dropped.

“Wow, that was rude.” The girl beside me said pointedly and the man scoffed. I tried to sink down and away into my chair, my face hot with embarrassment.

“I tried to buy two seats…” I began and the girl cut me off.

“You don’t owe him an explanation. He just wants an excuse to be miserable,” the girl turned and whispered to me. I tried to smile but felt like my lip might quiver, so I mouthed “thank you.”

“Everything okay over here?” A slim flight attendant asked, primarily to me.

“Uh, yeah. I-I think I need a…” I tried gesturing to the seatbelt so I wouldn’t have to say it out loud, but she looked puzzled. I gulped, feeling my heart rate rise and willing myself to stop sweating.

“An extender” it was barely audible, but the guy two seats away looked at me with disgust and shook his head. The flight attendant nodded and retreated to find one. I looked out the window so I could get my emotions in check.

“You okay?” The girl whispered. Thank God she was small, otherwise I’d be squishing her.

I nodded, fearing my voice might crack, and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“People can be so unkind.” The tenderness in her voice allowed me to look up and I offered her the best smile I could muster up.

The flight attendant came back with the extender and explained how to connect it. I did it as quickly as possible and willed the plane to take off.

The girl made polite conversation with me which calmed my nerves a bit.

“Are you on the connecting flight or stopping at Atlanta?”

“Connecting flight.”

“Cool. I’m sorry they gave up your seat.”

“It’s okay. It sucks that I’m out of the money, though.” I admitted.

“That’s so fucked up. Sorry, messed up. So you paid for two seats but only got one?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, if you get stuck in the same position next flight, I’d be happy to be your seat buddy again.”

I shook my head, “oh, no. That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable the whole trip.” Secretly, I was terrified of getting sat next to someone who wasn’t as kind as her.

“I’m not uncomfortable at all. Plus, you’d be doing me a favor. I get nervous on planes sometimes and it’s nice to talk to someone.” She smiled reassuringly and I almost believed her.

“Sorry, what was your name?”

“Oh, Leslie! Nice to meet you…?”

“Ian,” I smiled, a bit more sincerely this time.

We kept talking and I tried not making it obvious how squished I was between her armrest, but you could easily tell.

“Do you want to move that?” She asked after I’d wiggled around a bit.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.”

“It won’t bother me, but I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep on you.” I felt my face flush and let out a laugh.

“Are you sure?”

“Here,” she raised it for me and my fat immediately pooled out. I looked away, embarrassed. Thank God it still wasn’t touching her, by some miracle. I glanced at her and she had looked away as well. Fuck.

“Sorry” I muttered.

“It’s okay.” She placed her hand on my thigh just above my knee and I felt my breath hitch. She was just being nice.

“Thanks,” I looked out the window and she moved her hand away.

Several minutes later, she had fallen asleep on me. She wasn’t kidding. I tried not to move as I rummaged through my bag for my AirPods. She stirred and jerked up.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I was trying not to wake you.”

“I’m sure you don’t mind a random stranger sleeping on you,” she chuckled and I grinned in response. “If I fall asleep again, can you wake me when they come by with the snacks?”

“Of course.”

In about 30 minutes, the snack carts came out so I gently nudged Leslie who’d fallen asleep on me again.

“Sorry,” she yawned sleepily. “Thanks for waking me.”

“No problem.”

“Hey, want to get a wine with me?”

“Won’t that make you sleepier?”

“Maybe! Who knows?”

“Two cabernets, please.” She held out her card and I protested.

“No, I got it.” I fumbled for my wallet.

“I insist,” and she handed her card to the flight attendant.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I invited you to day drink with me. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

The plane lands and most people eagerly stand up. I wait behind, definitely not eager to bump into anyone. Leslie stands and asks if we can walk to the gate together so we can board the connecting flight together, and I’m extremely grateful.

“Sure.” When most of the people have left, Leslie scoots out and waits for me. I don’t want her to see me struggle to get out of my seat, but it’s inevitable. “I gotta lose some weight,” I try to laugh it off, but I must be a pretty pathetic sight, wobbling and shifting myself over the seats in order to get into the aisle.

She doesn’t respond and I regret pointing out my size, but she still waits as I reach for my bag. Before slinging it down, I notice her staring where my shirt should be covering my stomach, but considering the reaching, it might have ridden up. My face flushes and I throw my bag over my shoulder as quickly as I can, letting Leslie go first.

“Hungry?”

“Oh, no…I just had a bagel.” But I was hungry, and I would be before the next flight.

“We have about an hour before boarding. Maybe we should get something to go for the plane?”

I considered it. “Sure, whatever you want.”

The only respectable restaurant was a shitty Ruby Tuesdays and we decided to eat in. I was able to wedge myself into the booth but it was tight.

“Here, why don’t we move to the bar?” Leslie asked, noticing the tight space.

“Oh no, I don’t mind…”

“You don’t have to be uncomfortable.” She stated.

I thought over my words carefully and explained “I’m just not sure I’ll fit there, either.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Do you want to try? I’ll keep our seat here.”

“Um, sure.” I hefted my weight and tried to keep my cool. The bar stools didn’t have armrests which was a blessing. It was still difficult to fit, but it was better than the booth. I came back to grab our bags and she thanked me, following me to the bar.

“You know, you don’t have to do this. I really appreciate it but I’m okay.” She frowned.

“I like this. I like getting to know you. I’d rather hang out with you than wait alone.” She was so sweet. “Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

We continued talking and I forgot why I was ever anxious in the first place. We ordered another round and I could tell she was starting to feel it. I was getting a little uncomfortable when her glances started going towards my body, so I reached into my bag and pulled over a hoodie. Did she…frown?

“You’re really hard to read,” I confessed.

“How so?” She propped herself up on her elbow and looked at me quizzically.

“I don’t know,” I shook my head. “I just don’t get you.” She smiled coyly.

“I’m an enigma,” she stated with jazz hands for added flair.

“Well, I’m enjoying myself a lot more than I was earlier, so thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me and apologizing. I’m equally enjoying it.” She placed her hand on my thigh and I realized I’d been bouncing my leg anxiously for who knows how long. I didn’t know what to make of her. Friendly, sweet, kind, adorable. Now I have another reason for not wanting to get on the plane…I don’t want this to end.

Leslie orders some appetizers to share and an entree for herself. I try to choose something moderately healthy, so I stick to the grilled chicken sandwich.

“Here, try” she pushes over her appetizer plates to me and I take small bites.

“They’re good.”

“Have more,” she begins forking them onto my plate.

“Whoa, no, that’s okay,” I try to protest but she’s in the middle of loading up my plate.

“I won’t finish them,” she counters, and I oblige, trying not to make a pig of myself.

I try not to eat everything to save face, despite my obvious physique that says I likely have never turned down food before. I order another drink and Leslie is practically staring at me now. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and try sucking in my belly.

“You’re full?”

“Oh, um yeah.”

“We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

“You ordered them,” I remind her.

“Pleaseeeee,” she’s tipsy now and there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite pinpoint.

“Really?” I laugh. “Why do you want me to finish these? Why not just save them for later?”

“Because you’ll be hungry later, too.”

“Bold of you to assume.” I counter.

“Is it though?” I don’t think she intended malice, but the words sting a little.

“I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’m sorry, that was dumb.” She covered her face with her hands.

“It’s okay.“ I pause. She doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet besides her fork scraping against the plate.

“I just, I’m sorry I’m so awkward,” she sighed. “I think you’re really cute.”

I stop mid-bite. “What?” Garbled by the food in my mouth.

She covers her face with her hands again.

I finish swallowing, heart pounding in my chest. “Really?”

“Yes really. I thought I’d made it obvious. I was so nervous.” She confessed.

It took me a second to compute. It made sense. The quick glances, an excuse to put her hand on my leg, insisting on buying my wine.

“It’s so cute when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“You blush.” I could feel my cheeks burning even brighter. We were sitting so close to each other I could smell the sweet rosé on her breath.

She leaned in closer. “You’re seriously so handsome.” I think my heart leapt into my throat and I had to swallow it down. Was this happening?

The bartender interrupted and asked if we wanted to close out, which we did. It gave me a moment to gain my composure.

“You don’t think I’m too…big?” I was afraid to ask. She shook her head and barely audibly answered “I like bigger guys.” Holy shit.

We had to run to our gate and we were both giddy. I offered her my hand and she took it, two wildly different strangers running through an airport together. “I booked two seats…” I explained as they checked my boarding pass and Leslie chimed in “I don’t mind sitting next to him if it’s a full flight. I’m 18 A.”

“Thanks, looks like you might have to. Hang tight.”

“You can give my seat to someone else.” She insisted and the boarding director looked at me and I shrugged.

“Alright, miss,” and he scanned all three tickets.

“I’ll go first to make sure there’s enough room.” Wow. My anxiety was no match for her.

“Excuse me, ‘scuse us,” she’d loudly announce when people’s bags were in my way. I was beyond grateful. We took our seats and I thanked her.

“No more thanking me!” And she pulled her armrest up.

“I’m so cold.”

“Here,” I peeled off my hoodie and felt the cool air hit my stomach when my shirt rode up. “I’m sure it’s way too big, but -“

“Thank you.” She eagerly accepted it and draped it over her, cuddling into me. My heart thudded obnoxiously in my chest.

“Is this okay?” She asked timidly.

“Of course,” I placed an arm around her. Whoever gets sat next to us would probably think we’re a couple on vacation, and I loved that. It was an older, middle aged woman with a smug expression on her face. She first looked at me and practically grimaced. Leslie noticed and placed her arm around my stomach where my waistline would be if it wasn’t covered in fat. I got chills.

It was the tiny nuances that she noticed. How I could use some help maneuvering the aisle, when someone made a comment or just gave a look of disapproval. She was trying to offset it, remind me that I’m not as despicable as they act like I am. Like I’m not a huge waste of space, an eyesore, an inconvenience.

“This is nice.” She sighed into me, arm still wrapped around me.

“So nice,” I agree. She rhythmically rubs her thumb over my stomach and I get goosebumps. I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this. Sure, I’ve been in relationships and had a couple hookups, but no one ever wanted to touch my body. It was a foreign feeling to have someone actually want to. She looked so small, especially next to me.

“We barely know each other and look at us,” I whispered. She looked up at me excitedly.

“Let’s get to know each other. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue, yours?”

“Mine too! Favorite food?”

“Anything,” I snickered. “Can you tell?”

“Ha, ha. Alright, how tall are you?”

“Six foot, you?”

“Holy shit. Guess.”

“Hmm, 5’2?”

“Nope. Five foot.”

“Five feet?! That’s it?”

She nodded, stifling a laugh. We were quiet for a little, the hum of the plane and alcohol making us sleepy.

“I really like this.”

“Me too.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t want the plane to take off. I wanted to sit with her like this forever.

#ffa #female fat admirer #fat admirer #female feeder #feedist #weight gain encourager #intentional weight gain #feedist confessions #fat love #feedist fiction

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findingnemosworld · 8 months

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𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲 - 𝐫𝐮́𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐬

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬.

( 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐧 )

( 𝐎𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬! 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟?? 𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟?? 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 × 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞?? 𝐑𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 )

___

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐱 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

[ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 ]

( had to use this gif )

Rúben Dias did not like to talk.

Everyone that knew him, knew that he was a man of few words; he liked to work in silence, the less he spoke to the clients that hire him, the easier it would be for him to get the job done and move on to the next one, the rules he had set were simple and seemed to work for him as most - if not all of his clients were aware of how efficient he was in ensuring their safety above all while maintaining a high level of professionalism.

The only times you'd see a glimpse of him, the real him. Is when he's around his family and friends and even then; he doesn't like to be vulnerable, he views vulnerability as a liability; preferring to be cold, distant and detached - it's easier for him and easier for those that approach him, yet he had no idea of the storm that was lying ahead, a storm of sunshine, softness and the kind of joy that he faintly remembers experiencing as a child.

The storm that is international pop star, Yeliana Ladrón.

Rúben's perception of pop stars, actresses or anyone from the entertainment industry was that they're loud, talkative and spoilt hence why he had wanted to refuse the task almost immediately until his co-worker and good friend, John Stones advised him not to.

" Why not? " Rúben questions, " She's probably a spoilt princess who will spend the entire day talking my ear off with stupid and trivial matters "

" I worked with her once " John explains, " and I can assure you mate, she's far from the other ones, a sweetheart, grounded and humble too " he laughs, " she literally goes out of her way to ensure everyone around her is comfortable, plus she pays generously so if you take it from me, don't say no "

Despite his hesitance, Rúben ends up accepting which lead him to this current moment, he was lead by Yeliana's assistant inside the mansion, " Miss Ladrón is currently busy, so if you'll follow me I can show you where you'll be staying "

Before Rúben could respond, a tanned and petite brunette appears from the kitchen; dressed in a baby blue summer dress which stopped just below her ankles, her hair was tied up into a ponytail and her face, whilst bare of makeup was rather unique, doe eyes that shone as she smiled brightly, her assistant smiles. " Ah, there she is. Yeli, this is Rúben Dias, he was sent by the agency "

" It's nice to meet you " Yeliana extends her hand, expecting him to shake only for him to acknowledge her with nod which made her brows furrow in confusion, " you don't like physical contact, got it? "

" I was on my way to show him his bed room " Her assistant states.

" It's fine Renata, you can go home! the house is secured so nothing should happen. I'll show Rúben around " Yeliana smiles.

" Ok then! it was nice meeting you Mister Dias, and I'll see you later Yeli "

Rúben watches the woman whom he now knows her name walk out of the house before he turns to Yeliana, " Where's the room? " He asks, in a curt tone.

Yeliana ignores his tone, still maintaining the same smile. " Follow me then "

Rúben quietly walks behind her to the ends of the house where the rooms were, " You'll be staying here " he hears her say as she unlocks the door to the neatly furnished bedroom, " there's an en-suite bathroom, everything you need is in there and if there's anything missing you can let me know "

" Are your fences high? " Rúben asks, ignoring the last phrase.

" Yes, and they're secured " Yeliana nods.

" Are there security cameras installed? " Rúben asks.

" Yes " Yeliana nods.

" Locks? "

" Yes "

Rúben was about to ask again, however Yeliana rolls her eyes. " My house is fully secure, don't worry! I didn't want to burden anyone but my father insisted " she mutters.

Rúben was silent, before curiosity got the best of him causing him to ask. " What happened exactly? I was only informed of a supposed threat "

Yeliana visibly stiffened, " Yes "

" What is the threat? " Rúben asks, " If you don't mind me asking "

" My ex boyfriend " Yeliana mutters before mustering up the same smile he had seen earlier. " Are you hungry? "

Rúben shakes his head, " I'll be down in a minute however "

" Please " Yeliana said, " I don't like eating alone "

Rúben grows silent before nodding, " Alright "

They sit down in the dining room, Rúben maintained a safe distance away from her; Yeliana took the moment to study him, he was broad, well built, with features that reminded her of all the social media videos she sees of models people use as images of fictional characters, and when he looks up from his plate, she looks away and hopes he didn't notice her. " So, how long have you been working in the agency "

" Nearly four years " Rúben answers in the same curt tone.

" Oh, so you must know John " Yeliana deduces.

" Yes, I do " Rúben mutters.

Yeliana chews on her bottom lip, " You don't like to talk much huh? "

" I find it easier this way, to not be attached and ensure that I do my work at the highest level, besides I'm not here to befriend you, I'm here to protect you " Rúben responds, " So, the less we converse, the better "

Yeliana nods before smiling, " I get it, but ... I'm not going to stop "

Rúben's brows furrowed, " Pardon? "

" Listen, it took me a lot to get through John and while I'm sure you think I'm some spoilt singer but I'm not, so I give you my word that once these weeks end, we will be friends " Yeliana said with a smile, she stands up and grabs the dishes to go and wash them.

Rúben watches her from where he was sitting, still confused by her words, he shakes his head before walking up to the kitchen to tell her, " I'm going to look around the house, just to be safe "

" Ok " Yeliana nods with a smile.

_________

The only thing Rúben can think of that could describe the following weeks was one singular word, a rollercoaster -- he noticed just how much Yeliana loved performing, and how beautiful she sounded doing so, he was an avid listener of music yet never bothered to take a minute and truly listen to music until he heard her sing, she seemed to sing from a place of pain and an unexplainable sense of dejection.

One night, he was in the kitchen to grab a glass of water when he heard her voice outside in the balcony, coupled with the strumming of the guitar was enough to lure him out of the kitchen which overlooked the balcony.

" You said it was true love, but wouldn't that be hard?

You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart

I tried you help you out, now I know that I can't

'Cause how you think's the kind of thing I'll never understand "

Rúben stood there, allowing the words to sink in - they were charged, quite heavily; and he didn't know what came over him, however he decided to speak. " You sound great "

Yeliana gasps then looks up before smiling, " Thank you, I guess it helps when you have a deplorable ex boyfriend "

Rúben tentatively sat down on the other chair, keeping the same distance he did since the first day. " What did he do? "

" He cheated " Yeliana responds with a sad smile, " I gave him four years of my life, on and off, ups and downs, and I kept my mouth shut while he stuck his cock in everything that moves " she laughs.

" Why would you stay with him? " Rúben asks, " He sounds like an idiot "

" Because I'm a hopeless romantic " Yeliana responds, " When I care about someone, platonically or not! I tend to give my all to that person "

Rúben nods, " Hm "

" Have you ever felt that? " Yeliana asks him.

Rúben raised a brow, before shaking his head. " Emotions are a liability for me, I was engaged once but she never waited for me and since then, I made a promise never to love anyone again "

Despite his curt nod, and standoffish nature. Yeliana could see that behind of all that was someone so hurt, that he believed being like this was the right call. " For what it's worth, she's an idiot too "

And for the first time, in a really long time; Rúben smiled, he truly smiled which made Yeliana smile then say, " You have a beautiful smile "

Rúben's smile instantly vanishes the minute he hears her, this wasn't what he intended on happening; he stands up, " Listen, you need to sleep cause you have an early day tomorrow ok "

Yeliana nods, " Ok " she follows him fifteen minutes later, and was about to head to bed when she said. " Hey Rúben "

" Yes " Rúben responds curtly.

" Goodnight " Yeliana said then closed the door behind her.

Rúben did not respond, he walks into the guest bedroom; placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to calm his heartbeat. This wasn't what he planned, these past few weeks were a rollercoaster, while he may have been able to keep a neutral face, he couldn't help but admire Yeliana, she was kind, welcoming and indeed true to John's words, humble as when he had searched her up, he came to know that she hailed from humble backgrounds which surprised him given that most singers are blinded by fame, yet she wasn't - and against his own set of rules.

He was beginning to feel drawn to her.

Yeliana couldn't believe it, while she was out of Manchester with Rúben and her team to perform in Paris, her ex boyfriend had tried to break and enter her home; however thankfully he was arrested -- and as she returned, she had cooperated with the police to ensure that he goes away for life over the horrors and pain he had caused her and with his arrest, came the conclusion of Ruben's task, he was set to leave today.

" I really appreciate you staying with me Rúben " Yeliana smiles.

" It's my job " Rúben nods.

Yeliana fiddles with her bracelet, which caught Rúben's attention and caused him to ask, " What is it? "

" Well, since you won't be working to protect me anymore " Yeliana begins with a shaky voice, " And to be fair, I really liked spending time with you even though you hated my chats "

Rúben chuckles, " I did "

" And you disliked how I would hum while I'm making breakfast " Yeliana adds.

" I value silence " Rúben retorts.

" You were basically a grumpy person " Yeliana laughs, " I still think that we can be friends, right? "

Rúben looks away, unsure if he should tell her or not, she was this worldly angelic human being with so much popularity and love, and he was just ... a bodyguard, " I ... " he begins but falls silent again.

" What? " Yeliana tilts her head, with a confused expression.

" Yeliana " Rúben whispers, " These past few weeks have been enlightening and I loved every single moment, which is odd seeing as that I've always hailed myself as being able to keep my emotions buried and yet ... "

" Yet? " Yeliana prompts him to continue.

" Yet I've grown attached to you " Rúben murmurs, " While I initially hated everything you did and how you're always happy, I realized why you did it, and I .. " he licks his lips, " I know that there won't be any chance for us but, I - "

" You .. " Yeliana mutters, subconsciously leaning closer.

" I really like you Yeliana, like really like you " Rúben said.

Yeliana's eyes widened, cheeks turning pink. " You do? " she whispers.

" Yeah " Rúben nods, grabbing her hands. " I just, I want to know if you feel the same way "

Yeliana smiles, her tears brimming at the ends of her eyes; she stands on the tip of her toes to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. " I feel the same way " she giggles.

A big smile spreads across his lips and Rúben pulls Yeliana into an embrace, " You're my sweet melody " he whispers.

#ruben dias #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias fluff

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the-hinky-panda · 11 months

Note

something isn't right babe, I keep catching little words but the meaning is thin

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Four months later finds you and Chibs back in Ireland. You’re picking up three horses which means more tack boxes which means more guns. It worked well enough the first trip, so a second trip was quickly put into motion to return a few months later. He called you a few times to work out the travel dates. You met for drinks to discuss where you were with clients for the horses this trip. Chibs was grateful that a few of those business meetings quickly took a turn to an impromptu dinner where conversation turned to less business focused topics. It makes the second trip to Ireland that more enjoyable.

You must feel it too because the afternoon of your horse brokerage, you call him while still at the horse stable. The farm owner invited you to the weekly community gathering that is hosted on the property. And now you are extending the invitation to him. He knows what those gatherings are like, the local whiskey, live music, bonfire. They’re nothing like the loud nightclubs in Belfast or the rowdy times the MC tend to have. He wants to make sure you know what to expect from the farm owner’s invite.

“It’s not gonna be a wild time, luv,” he tells you.

“Yeah, I’m not really looking for a wild time.” You pause. “Would you like to join us anyway?”

He bites back a smile at your hesitation, the woman who charges headlong through life. “I’d love to.”

You text him the address and he arrives just as the first stars appear in the night sky. The barn is lit up, a makeshift bar set up in the tack room. He sees a couple familiar faces, those who are in the know about the gun smuggling but no one acknowledges each other. The farm owner introduces himself, Sean O’Malley, shakes his hand, and points him in the direction of the fire pit. That’s where you sit, a wool blanket draped around your shoulders as you talk animatedly with a couple other riders.

You’re beautiful, absolutely stunning. The flickering firelight dances across your face and hands, giving you an ethereal appearance. The two girls are listening in rapt attention to some story you’re telling about one of your competitions. You’re smiling, animated…happy. And it’s amazing to see.

He knows from your conversations you’ve been partying less and less. Your drug use is down to a periodic joint and nothing else. The drinking, that’s been a bit harder for you to get under control but you’re trying. He can see there’s something you’re going to war with, something that you can’t quite get over. He sees it come across your expression like a cloud, darkening that wildfire inside of you from time to time. That is why he’s so pleased to see you as happy as you are at this moment.

The story ends and the girls are called back to the barn by some hopeful local youths and you’re left alone by the fire. You start to stand up to follow them but you catch him moving towards you. Without fail, as soon as your eyes land on him, a wide smile breaks across your face. You always looks so fucking happy to see him and he has no idea why.

“Evening, luv,” he greets as he takes the seat next to you on the wooden bench and gives you a brief kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Filip,” you respond, your fingers gently brushing against the scar on his cheek.

He likes hearing his name fall from your lips. He likes feeling your hands on his skin. The way your fingers slip between his and fiddle with his rings. The feel of your skin under his thumb as he traces the tattoo of snaffle bits that circle your wrist like a bracelet. He likes you very, very much. So much in fact, he’s beginning to wonder if there’s something more to these feelings. He still thinks about that kiss from your last trip here, the desire and sheer want of it. There were a few other minor flirtations, hand holding and brief kisses on the cheek, but nothing had the heat of that first kiss.

You glance over your shoulder, making sure you’re alone, and laugh softly. “We’re getting pretty good at this little covert operation, aren’t we?”

“So far it’s working well.” He catches your eye, makes sure you’re looking at him, open to hearing what he’s not explicitly saying. “You’re a good partner.”

You process it for a moment, most likely catching on to his double meaning, and then scoff, giving a small shake of your head. “I don’t think anyone has made the mistake of calling me that before.”

“Well, that wild reputation of yours is starting to change a bit, now isn’t it?”

“Sort of,” you hold up your glass. “This is my fourth one.”

“Some habits are harder to quit than others.” He sighs, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and phrasing. He wants to know what this demon is that is driving you to drink. But you’re a business woman, you won’t give anything unless you get something. He needs to give you a piece of his history in order to get a piece of yours. “I’ve seen the bottom of many a whiskey bottle. Especially after I was exiled from here. Left a wife, a little girl, most of my heart. Life didn’t seem worth being conscious for anymore.”

“Let me guess, the MC saved you.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I saved myself. Woke up one morning tired of being so fucking numb. Couldn’t go back, couldn’t change anything, just move forward. So, I did.”

You’re staring down into the remnants of your drink, your thumb running along the edge of the glass. “So what if you don’t have anything to move forward towards?”

Once again, he sees that darkness cloud your face and shutter your eyes. “But you do, luv. You’re making money hand over fist right now. You’re going to purchase that farm, start your business. You’re going to-”

“I have MS, Filip.”

He thinks he misheard you. He plays it over again in his mind, keeps replaying it until it settles like a piece of barbed wire in his skin. “MS?”

“Yeah. I was sleeping all the time for no apparent reason. I had some tingling in my fingers, difficulty holding reins. They found a couple lesions on my spine, small enough to cause the symptoms. Started me on some experimental treatments. That was eight years ago and no new lesions have shown up. I have another scan next week though.”

Words completely fail him at the moment. He wanted an answer, and he fucking got one. Certainly not one that he wanted to hear, but it snaps everything into perspective. An acute painful perspective. He slips his hand into yours, his thumb running over that familiar tattoo on your wrist.

“I like you,” you say quietly. “I like you a lot, Filip. I figured you should know what damaged goods you’re handling. It’s only fair.”

Damaged goods. As if he’s not sitting there with two large facial scars and many more scattered across his body, his dark hair quickly growing more gray each day. He finishes his whiskey and sets the glass on the ground. “If anyone claims they’re not damaged, they’re just trying to sell something.”

You emit a small laugh. “True.”

He stares at your entwined hands, your slender fingers in between his. He’s never known anyone with MS but he knows the outcome of the disease. There’ll come a day when your grip won’t have much strength. Where there’ll be a tremor in your fingers. Time can’t be wasted, not when he knows it’s going to run out faster than normal. When he leans towards you with the intention of kissing you, you lean back slightly. He gives you a curious look, you’ve never moved away from him before.

“I don’t want your pity.” You state it simply, matter of fact.

A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Who’s to say you’re not showing this old Scot pity, huh? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in pristine condition either, luv.”

That seems to soften you a bit, dropping some of the protective walls you’ve grown used to throwing up with this particular confession. You bring a hand up to the side of his face, the pad of your thumb following the scar on his cheek. That shadow is still there behind your eyes, the weight of your condition now easily recognized. But there’s a soft smile curving your lips and he stares at that until you close the space between you and press those lips to his.

#chibs x you #chibs x reader #chibs telford x you #chibs telford x reader #filip chibs telford #chibs telford fic #chibs telford #chibs sons of anarchy

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tangibletechnomancy · 5 months

Text

The thing about AI art is, the skill ceiling is just as high as with any other art form - that is to say, infinitely high. It's a different skill set than other art forms, but there is skill involved. Someone can very easily spend just as much time and effort AI-generating a picture as an equally skilled conventional artist might take to paint it. What gets abused is the fact that the skill floor is lower - you can make something pretty to look at and/or get a general idea across with just a few words and a minimal amount of luck.

Now, I genuinely believe that lowering the skill floor to make visually appealing art, in its own right, is always going to be a good thing. No internal caveats whatsoever. We've seen people say otherwise with EVERYTHING that has lowered the skill floor of art in the past, from digital painting to photography to premixed paints; art survived all those developments, and...most of those people turned out to be remembered as anything from your standard obnoxious, self-centered "WELL IF I HAD TO WORK AT IT THEN SO SHOULD YOU, RAAHFKS KIDS THESE DAYS" stolen valor types, to outright fascists who WANT the world of art to remain closed off and inaccessible to anyone they deem ~undesirable~...

The latter of which makes it absolutely terrifying to me how the easily exploitable "respect for labor" argument...can come from a very real place right now, even more than usual, because we've BEEN AT a tipping point with late-stage capitalism since 2008 and the rich are STILL propping it up with sticks to keep it working for them and them alone while they laugh about likely soon being able to use automation of many types TO KILL PEOPLE THROUGH POVERTY, WITH THE CRUELTY BEING HALF OF THE POINT.

We already saw a bunch of trads try to recruit from young center-left types by pointing out how minimalism is often more of a corporate cost-saving method than it is an actual aesthetic choice (which it is, but also sometimes it is a legit choice for reasons other than being inoffensive-even-if-not-enjoyable; having things nice and open and airy and clean has its appeal - failure to acknowledge this can be part of that pathway to trad bullshit), and now we have this area as a vulnerability with "automation will steal your job just like immigrants and deny you your G-d-given place toiling away for the rich until your body falls apart and destroy the very concept of art and western civilization itself and flood the market with lesser work and let the unworthy have a voice just as loud as yours, we must destroy it at all costs!"

So. This post is a checkpoint. Stop. Evaluate your criticisms of AI art. I HOPE that you have them - as a mixed media artist with AIs in my toolbox, I CERTAINLY do. This is a call to "clean" those criticisms a bit. Look for any bullshit leaking in at the corners.

Yes, there is a huge problem with the cultural value of art being cruelly decoupled from the value of the work that made it. Yes, there is a Problem of creatively bankrupt AI artists who use this lower skill floor to, recklessly or even deliberately, harm conventional artists. This is true. It is important to criticize. It is a problem with the environment, NOT with AI art itself. Are you letting this fact convince you that gatekeeping self-expression will prevent it from getting worse? Are you letting this fact convince you that people who can't hold a paintbrush or tablet pen for extended periods, let alone those who can't hold one at all, SHOULD be barred from visual arts? Do you think that's just a made-up "gotcha" theoretical and not a description of actual living humans you're likely to meet several of if you poke your head into any space that gives a damn about ML ethics?

#not art #mission statement #cleaning out the drafts

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alolanrain · 1 year

Note

How would Professor Rowan and Ingo meet?

When? Post Sinnoh-Crisis, pre-Hisui? Or maybe Post-Hisui with Professor Rowan questioning him about what Ancient Sinnoh was like? How the Pokémon developed into today’s typing.

The Alphas would probably be a heavy debate piece. (In general or you could assume the Alphas featured in Ingo’s Paths are caught.)

Has Rowan had any relationships before this one? Were they merely flings or serious?

this is gonna be a long post so it's gonna be under the read more.

so technically they've met before. was in the past when Ingo and Emmet first started their Subway/battle combo thing. it was at a charity gala and Emmet was sick so Drayden, good old uncle Drayden, took Ingo with him as a plus one. they were were friendly when socializing but that's it. they know of each other over the passing years because of how popular Rowan gets not just in Sinnoh but around the entire world for his research of Pokémon Evolutions and Rowan and Drayden are old friends as well since Drayden is an Army Veteran in the TA!Au.

Ash meets Ingo, this is where he's really starting to figure out what he wants to continue doing with his life because it seems being a successful trainer wasn't being acknowledge by Delia, and realizes this man is an INL member as well. mostly just data and research gathering like I've mentioned in a past post but he's really good at the job. Ingo and Ash meld really well and Ash gets the thought in his head that he'd be a perfect fit for Rowan. Obviously Ash gets way over his head but thankfully calls Gary first for his opinion, since he's technically the older sibling by six measly months, who talks him down but that doesn't stop Ash from info dumping about the Marine Corp turned Professor.

*Ingo dissapears shortly before the Virtress Conference starts. so he's gone for about 6 years give or take some months.

Rowan and Ingo officially meet for the second time Post-Hisui. it's not a very good meeting as Ash basically begged on his hands and knees for the Sinnoh Professor to take the Unovian in. due to the increasingly mental and physical strain on Ingo as he's now surrounded by a lot of loud noises such as his train and his brother who's clinging onto him for what seems like every second of every day. Rowan hears Ash out and he's well aware of Hisui as both Ash and Dawn had come back together and it was all over the news as a rift over Mount. Coronet had opened in their time to spit the trio out.

it's a bit of a strain between Sinnoh and Unova because of this as Drayden and Emmet both insist that Ingo would be better with his family while the majority of the army of therapists the INL offers up, Ash, and Dawn return fire and say that Ingo would be better in a place where he can heal without anyone pressuring him. The INL makes the final decision for everyone after Ingo comes to the headquarters of both the Unova and Sinnoh council members to speak up about his own wants and needs. in the end taking up Ash's offer, only after Rowan officially extends it on his own after learning about everything that's going on. stating that it would be good to be more near Ash and Dawn since those two were the ones who were dropped into Hisui, helped him regain his memory, and bring Ingo back to the present time in the first place.

Rowan and Gary are a fresh of breath air and for once they willingly give Ingo the space he needs and the attention he requires when the silence gets to much. it's also really nice that Rowan is extremally careful with his wording and questions as he can't help himself but probe Ingo for information about the past since he's been gone for six bloody fucking years. it's far better then his entire family back in Unova avoiding the whole situation almost at all cost. it helps Ingo work through his trauma and the sudden walls he built around himself during the time.

I have yet to decide if Ingo's Hisui team gets brought into the future and I'm even debating if I should bringing Lady Sneasler into the future as well. if I do then Rowan and Ingo would bond over his team as Rowan and his team are absolutely floored by staunch difference between the past Pokémon and the now Pokémon. If not then Ingo and Rowan bond over the Pokémon under the Professor's care as it seems Ingo has gotten pretty good at caring for the Sinnoh native 'Mon's. They also share stories of Ash, even if Ingo only has so few, and it soon develops in them sharing a glass of scotch at night or coffee in the wee hours of the morning before the sun rises about Rowans 'kids'.

"It feel's like every time a turn my back I gain a new damn kid."

"I get the feeling."

Gary finally admits Ash is right and that both Rowan and Ingo fit almost unnaturally good. having almost the same taste in coffee, music, clothing brand, and most importantly dry and dark humor. it doesn't help that Ash and convinced Dawn while in Hisui after Ingo regained his memories before making the hike to the Cobalt Coastlands. so it's two against one.

*I've mentioned this also in a previous post but Irida brings Ingo around them much earlier on in the story since there's two of them and its not just Ash and Pikachu that fell from the rift.

Rowan's had unofficially two major relationships and a couple of flings. one of them being with a girl after a few years of him being a Trainer, so around 14-16, they break up and it's what cause Rowan to enroll into the marines. during the time he had flings and then had a HR-inducing headache relationship with the then Sinnoh Champion that originally held the title for the longest Sinnoh Champion before Cynthia took it. He play's an important part in Rowan's history that I also touched upon. where he takes Rowan after the Dragalge Hyper beam attack to get almost fully healed by the last few fully fledged Aura users. He actually uses that vulnerable moment to strengthen his bond with Ingo, letting him know that he's not alone and that PTSD is a fucking bitch and it sucks but he can survive.

the dude is still alive, bitter that Cynthia knocked him off his throne when she was just thirteen and even more bitter since Rowan's plate got increasingly full to the point that Rowan couldn't even find time to speak with his mentor. he still lives in Sinnoh and pretty close to Sandgem Town as well.

#rowan/ingo #hisui #ta!au #ash ketchum #gary oak #pokemon dawn #subway boss ingo #professor rowan #gym leader drayden #subway boss emmet #i love these old men so much ;a;

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starseneyes · 2 years

Text

Miggy - Magnum PI - S4 Ep 20

Those who read this blog know I love to break down ships and go in-depth with Metas. I’ve done the entirety of the first season of A Discovery of Witches. I’ve covered Theloise (Theo and Eloise) in Bridgerton Season 2, and today I want to do a MINI Meta of Thomas Magnum and Juliet Higgins in the Season Finale of Magnum PI.

SPOILER ALERT: This is a Meta, so I will spoil the entirety of this episode. Yes, I’m taking it from the Miggy point-of-view, and I’m obviously a fan. But, I’m also going to dive into the performances because I feel like Perdita Weeks and Jay Hernandez gave their all to this.

Considering his very vocal objections to this ship as anything other than a series finale send-off, I respect the heck outta him for not holding anything back from the performance.

Ready? Steady... Let’s Go!

“Juliet, do you want a romantic relationship with Magnum?”

Juliet starts her morning off running, her music turned up loud. But, despite the adrenaline rushing and the endorphins coursing through her body, she can’t distract her mind. There’s too much noise in there, considering the events of the day before.

Yes, it was one day earlier that Thomas Magnum stood nervously in the wine cellar, gathering his courage to extend a vague enough offer to gauge Juliet’s interest.

Yes, it was one day earlier that she shattered his heart with news that she had other plans.

Yes, it was one day earlier that she called up her therapist for an emergency session because she couldn’t shut out the feelings anymore.

Today is a new day... a day of action.

“It’s better than the alternative.” “Which is what?” “Saying no to what you really want.”

Juliet is at a standstill, which is so poetic. All season she’s been running... running from her thoughts. Running from her dreams. Running from the realization that Magnum, yes, THOMAS MAGNUM is the one she wants.

The words play back in her mind, and she comes to a terrifying decision... she’s going to do this.

Juliet takes a deep breath, then sets off-camera. She’s no longer running. She’s no longer drowning it all out. She’s ready.

Now, I want to pause for a moment to acknowledge that from what we’ve seen of Higgins and relationships, the early stages are not her forte. Even with Ethan, she was terrified of getting hurt, and even wanted to run a background check on him.

Thomas is not unknown in the same sense. She knows who he is at his best and his worst. She’s walked by his side when she could barely stand him, as they formed a functional partnership, and as they transitioned to best friends.

The unknown is what comes next.

If he wants to be with her, then they have to navigate their partnership, their friendship, their ohana, and their own emotions. If he doesn’t, then she will feel awkward and embarrassed for ever broaching the subject. If they try it and fail, they could lose everything.

But the noise is too loud for her to shut out any longer. She has to try.

“Thomas?” “Higgins.”

Juliet takes one more breath, then knocks before slipping into Magnum’s Guest House. It’s obvious from the get-go that she’s feeling extremely awkward. But, she’s committed to this. Let’s go.

“Uh, normally, you know and wait for a response.” “But some people use knocking as a heads-up.”

He smirks at this, but he can already tell something’s off. It’s not like the two of them seek each other out often without reason. The day before, it was him seeking her out to ask her out. Today, it’s her turn. Of course, he doesn’t know that, and she doesn’t know who he has in his bedroom.

Okay, I know that sounds more salacious than intended, but if you’ve seen the episode, you know it works out in the end.

“Are you okay?” “Me? I’m fine.”

Juliet feels completely awkward, here, but he’s also a little guarded. At first, we don’t know why, but a part of him must know that Higgy’s going to be caught off-guard to see Lia back in the Guest House.

“The reason I came over is... Well, I want to tell you something. I just want to make sure that I, that I get it right.”

She’s already avoiding his gaze, fiddling with her fingers. He’s intrigued, but guarded. There’s no way he can guess what she was about to say. In fact, he looks like he’s bracing for bad news.

“Thomas, have you seen my jacket?”

And every shipper shouted expletives in one voice, so loud the world briefly tremored with its power. Juliet, herself, feels the shock.

She backs away from the counter, putting distance between herself and the perceived couple on the other side.

“Excuse me for a second.”

Lia turns to get some coffee (and for those who were paying attention, Thomas did have two coffee mugs out at the very top of the scene... a little early warning system I know I missed the first viewing).

Thomas walks around the counter, separating himself from Lia and trying to reconnect with Higgy.

He doesn’t know what she was about to say, but he can tell that whatever it was, the walls that came down to open her up to whatever it was are going back up fast.

“Higgins, do you want to talk privately?”

She can’t even look at him. What she was about to do was so hard for her... to muster the courage to risk everything... and here he is... with Lia.

“No, no, no. It’s fine. Don’t worry. It’s not important.”

She’s deflecting. It really is important—and she knows it—but she can’t go there, now. She has to retreat, to refortify, to recover.

“Bye, Lia. It’s good to see you.”

She takes the out.

Higgins retreats outside the Guest House, giving herself a moment to catch her breath. As she does, reality sets in...

She was too late.

“Nothing happened. You know, the only reason why she spent the night is because she drank too much... I actually slept on the couch. So, like I said, nothing happened.”

Thomas is absolutely on the defensive. He knows that Higgy had a strong reaction to Lia, and he doesn’t know what it was.

“When Higgins saw her, uh, she had this look. It was, it was very subtle, but it was like she was disappointed. And I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

Thomas is perceptive. I remember at the beginning of the MI-6 story line I kept wondering when he’d sort the whole thing out. I was so happy when he did.

Thomas is capable. He’s not the world’s leader on emotions, no, but he’s a solid detective, and he knows Higgins better than anyone.

“I’d be thankful that you found out about Higgins and Cole before you said anything.”

The thing that stood out to me the first time I watched this scene was how casually the three of them were talking about his love life, even so far as Higgy was concerned. We all witnessed the confession to Rick, but at some point TC was looped in, as well.

It serves as a nice call-back to the end of Season 3 when TC and Rick were encouraging Magnum to shoot his shot with the newly-single Higgins.

Thomas nods to Rick’s declaration. So, he’s got it in his head that Higgins and Cole are definitely a thing. So, there’s no way he knows why she was really disappointed.

“Hey, um, about last night. I just wanted to say nothing happened. Between me and Lia. I know what it looked like. And, uh, yeah, nothing happened.”

Seizing his moment, Thomas wants desperately for Higgy to know that nothing happened between him and Lia. In the back of his mind, despite the “Cole” obstacle (that’s a non-obstacle), I think he’s still hopeful.

He’s hoping for some sign from Higgy that this is the source of her discomfort... some level of jealousy. But, she shuts him down with some nonsense about him being a grown adult.

“It just seemed like you were bothered or... maybe not bothered, but... something.”

Her defenses are on high alert. It took a lot for her to be vulnerable that morning, and her walls have snapped back into place. Firewalls upon firewalls. But, Magnum sees it as a brush off. He doesn’t understand the internal battle she’s experiencing. Instead, he thinks that she isn’t interested, so he lets it go.

“Good luck.” “You, too.”

It’s not that they don’t face dangerous situations all the time. They do. But most of them are spontaneously dangerous—being discovered mid-job by bad guys, getting ambushed, a situation turns on its head.

This time, they’re walking into danger headlong fully aware that none of them may make it out alive. It’s not the time for speeches. They’re both too professional for that. But this little exchange shows their headspace—they’re concerned for the other, but know they have a job to do.

And should we get a Season 5, I really think that’s the proper headspace for the pair of them going forward... but I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Go!”

Thomas finds Higgins and Whelan, and they tell him where Gordon’s gone.

There’s no hesitation on Higgins’ part. She’s a capable woman who can hold the position well no matter what comes at them. Gordon needs Magnum in that moment, and they both know it.

Again, there’s no hesitation on Magnum’s part because he knows Higgins has it handled. Their respect for one another is a huge component of what makes them work in a partnership. They’d hammered out a lot of the kinks in how they work together, and there’s a complete trust, now.

“Just... suddenly got a bit overwhelmed.”

Higgins has never been an overly emotional human. She tends to attack things in life with her head instead of her heart. We have seen before that it was hard for her to make friends, to make connections, to embrace her found family.

The events of the day have been overwhelming, and now everything is catching up to her. The walls that insulate her so well are feeling constricting, so she goes outside to catch a breath of air.

But Thomas is hyper aware of her right now, and he follows to ensure she’s okay.

“I’m lying. I’m not alright.”

This is always a huge admission for someone who usually brushes aside their emotions and keeps going. Even with MI-6, Higgins lied to Thomas and only told the truth when she was caught.

And she could have deflected, again, but in the emotional moment of reunion in the hospital between mother and child, and this ohana that has grown a little larger... the walls started to crumble.

Facing him, out here, alone, no interruptions, no other people, no reason to pretend... Juliet chooses to be vulnerable.

“I wanted to tell you something, but then I saw Lia there, and I just couldn’t.”

Higgy is avoiding eye contact during most of her confession. She feels uncomfortable and exposed.

It’s a terrifying thing, to open yourself up completely to another person, risking very personal injury in the process. He doesn’t know it, yet, but he is about to have the power to hurt her in a way that can never be erased. The fear of rejection is one of the most debilitating fears, I believe.

But, Higgins pushes through.

“So, uh, I came to tell you... that I have feelings for you.”

She meets his eyes long enough to try to read him, to gauge his reaction. Shock registers on his face, absolute surprise that that is what she wanted to say to him that morning. It’s not what he expected to hear.

“I tried to deny it, and I just can’t anymore.”

Thomas starts putting the pieces together in his mind, a sly smile crossing his lips. No doubt, he’s thinking about the day before when he asked her out, and how confused he was by her initial reaction, then the backpedaling to the picnic with Cole. It’s all starting to make sense.

He thought she was in deep with Cole, but now it’s apparent that was never the case. He has a shot. He freakin’ has a shot!

Higgins misreads the expression because she has no idea what’s going on inside his head. (and, heck, I don’t know, either... but it’s fun to try to figure it out, right?)

“Yeah, right. I bet this is just doing wonders for your ego.“

I love this line. It’s so Higgins that even in a vulnerable moment she’s going to call out his ego.

She evades her eyes, again, waiting for the pain to come. Waiting for the rejection. Waiting for the inevitable moment where her vulnerability doesn’t pay off, but proves a foolish venture.

But, that’s not what’s happening here.

“No, no. It’s... It’s not that.”

He’s stammering here, gathering his own thoughts before looking back up to meet her eyes. She instinctively meets his, genuinely confused... but too afraid to hope.

“When you were in the wine cellar yesterday, I wanted to spend the day with you... because I wanted to say the same thing.”

I love his read on this.

The emphasis on wanting to spend the day with her is so important, because in the previous episode he brushed it off when she asked... It was because everyone else had things to do... Right? Just two friends hanging because it was there, right?

Here he’s admitting there was intent. There was an active decision. There was a reason.

“Wait... what?”

Look at her face. She’s watching him intently, now, no longer evading his eyes. The “wait” registers confusion, but on the edge of “what” there’s pain. The pain of hope. The expectation that she’s wrong, but that tiny sliver of belief that she’s understanding him correctly... that he’s saying what she’s secretly wished he would say for months.

Higgy’s still unsure of what he’s saying. She want to think that what she thinks she is hearing is true... but maybe it’s not what he’s saying. Doubt is at play here. Higgins has had plenty of time to fill her head with it while weighing the many cons of even accepting her own feelings, let alone sharing them.

He registers her confusion, and realizes he can’t beat around the bush. He can’t talk in circles. He has to just... go for it.

“I have feelings for you.”

The emphasis on this is so fun. The emphasis is on “I”. It’s not about feelings. Feelings are already on the table. She put them on the table. The emphasis is on the “I” because this is reciprocal. This is shared. This is returned.

The empty vacuum of vulnerability fails to consume Juliet. Instead, she’s gobsmacked by the words she’s hearing.

“I think I have for a while. I just didn’t know it.”

Watch. Her. Face. Watch the words sink in. Watch her try to think of what to say besides, “Oh.” She can’t. In her wildest dreams she was terrified to think that this could happen, that he would be on the same page in the same chapter of the same story.

A moment passes, each of them regarding the other, wondering what the next move is.

Higgins is the first one to gather her thoughts, but she’s had a lot longer to consider this. Yes, she’s been fighting valiantly against her emotions, but it has given her plenty of time to process and consider. Plus, the conversations with Dr. Ogawa have no doubt illuminated all her possible fears. It’s her default position—I need to think of what could go wrong.

“I mean, of course I have my reservations.” “So do I, yeah.”

I love how she meets his eyes again, on that. It’s almost, “Okay, so you’re scared, too...” She goes through the possible things that can go wrong... all the things they’ve both expressed to others, but never each other.

“... Maybe we shouldn’t go there.” “I think you’re right.”

She nods, but she also looks away. There it is. There’s the pain and heartache she was expecting out of this conversation. It’s right there, cutting into her.

“We probably shouldn’t.” “Right. Yeah.”

The line is drawn. Higgins’ walls are going back up. Thomas watches her, completely aware that that isn’t what she wants, either. Sure, it’s easier to never go there—but is that the right call, here?

He looks to her lips, then to her eyes. His own eyes slightly narrow as the choice is made. And I LOVE her reverse shot, because I’m 90% sure it’s from a different part of the conversation (Jay Hernandez’ jaw is moving in the shot, suggesting talking), but it’s edited in beautifully.

Editors are magicians. And good editors can change the entire flow of a scene to bring it to its best point before airing. I love bringing her eyeline back to his before Thomas makes the move to close the distance between them.

He holds her gaze the whole way, waiting for her to give him a sign she doesn’t want this. But, she can’t. She’s wanted this for so long.

Lips meet, but this isn’t some thin-lined kiss. His lips part automatically, and hers part to meet him in response as they feel their way through their first kiss. It’s the magic of a first kiss that has a bit of awkwardness to it because, in real life you don’t know how another person kisses until you’re actually doing it.

Think about it... the WhiteBell kiss at the beginning of the season feels perfectly choreographed, complete with bare-chested manliness, his utter control of the situation by moving her head where he wanted it, and every tongue in place.

This isn’t that. This is the real Juliet and Thomas meeting mouths for the first time. This is learning how another person kisses, and feeling your way through. By the second kiss, they’re finding a rhythm, and her hands move, first to his jaw, then to his neck.

She’s not holding on, yet. She’s not committing, yet. She’s cautious... but she can’t keep her hands off of him.

He deepens the kiss, and she responds, matching him move for move.

We know from Higgins’ relationship with Ethan that she can take control when she wants to. But, right now, she doesn’t want to be in control. To be completely vulnerable means the release of control, to an extent.

Right now she’s letting him take the lead because she’s the one whose scared and he’s the one who dared.

They pull apart, and he’s quick to check her... to look for her reaction. To see her response. She looks to him, nerves on high alert. Was this a kiss to what might have been? Or is this the beginning? She has no idea.

Her fingers drop off his jawbone, her hand falling away from his neck. He pulls away from her, but as he does there’s a smile on his face—a satisfied, excited, celebratory smile.

Juliet glimpses his face and cannot help but smile herself. The light falls upon her, and I swear she glows in that moment, basking in it. All the dread and worry of their conversation is replaced with a cautious hope.

As his footing settles, he’s clearly given her space... but they are closer than they were through the duration of the scene. There’s no going back.

We end the season on Thomas, pressing his lips together as he looks at her anew—as though seeing her for the first time.

What’s next? Heck if I know! I don’t even know if we get another season, at this point. I do hope we do. This was one of my favorite episodes of the season all the way around. The teaser was sensational and getting to see Gordon unravel was played elegantly by Tim Kang.

I do believe these two can sustain a relationship and keep the show going. Like Brooklyn 99, the show is not about this ship. It’s about the ohana and the cases and how they navigate life as this found family.

So long as that’s kept in view, I think that Thomas and Juliet can exist in a romantic relationship while remembering that they are each capable, intelligent, bad*ss people.

I mean, they proved with that final scene that these characters can still be true to themselves and share a romantic moment. Higgy commenting on his ego was perfectly in-character. Magnum drawing a line in the sand only to immediately, trample it is so him! It’s possible to do this right, I believe.

But, again, this is all just my opinion. I’m one fan in this sea! But, I’ve loved being on this journey with each of you. Thanks for reading.

#magnum pi #magnum p.i.#Thomas Magnum #Juliet Higgens #Miggy #Magnum Season 4 #Perdita Weeks #Jay Hernandez #thomas x juliet #magnum x higgins

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moonstrider9904 · 2 years

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Spike

Chapter 5 of The Hunt

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Wolffe x Fem!OC, some Comet x Fem!OC

Series summary: The 104th battalion’s new medic Rose comes into the scene dazzling everyone, ready for anything life as a battalion medic will ofer to her after having spent much too long secluded in a medical station orbiting Rishi. While she forms close friendships with the troopers, she and commander Wolffe never seem to get along. As arguments between them heat up, Wolffe is challenged to make Rose fall in love with him, a game that by no means will end well for either of them.

Chapter summary: Rose and Comet have fostered their feelings for one another, but as Wolffe continues aching for her, a mission that leaves the two of them alone will turn out in disaster for Rose and Comet's relationship.

Warnings/tags: Explicit 18+. SMUT with two different troopers at two different times. Alcohol consumption, the idiots are drunk but not too drunk that they can't consent, i.e, everything is consented here. Hate fucking. Infidelity.

A/N: Ooooh yeah, the smut has arrived!!! For those of you who have read, maybe revisit this smutty smut! If it's your first time reading, enjoy ;)

YEAH RIGHT by Joji inspired this arc.

Word count: 8k

This fic is ongoing and posted to-date on AO3. Cross-posting on tumblr will be in progress over the next couple of weeks. After that, I’ll pick it up where I left off and post any new chapters on both platforms.

Anytime a shore leave extended for the wolf pack, they made sure to enjoy every second. The first three nights were all parties, mostly Rose and Comet having to take care of their drunken comrades and hearing the weirdest and funniest things they happened to say out loud due to the alcohol. It was quite the experience, but there were a few times in which Rose wished she could have a whole bottle to herself.

Whenever she was left alone with Wolffe, for instance.

She figured after saving Comet on Hoth, she and the commander would get along better—and then he tried to make a move on her in his own gruff manner. After that seemed to more or less improve, the two had made out at the lake where Rose had originally intended to take Comet—she still felt like shit about that. But despite having talked to Wolffe about it and deciding there weren’t any hard feelings between them, they still seemed to hate each other and drive the other insane.

It was a dodged bullet, Rose figured. She didn’t dare to imagine what it would be like if she chose to stay with Wolffe instead of Comet. That probably would have been over before a full rotation. Their battles, however, never ceased. Snarky comment after another, glare after growl. At one point, Rose even stuck her tongue out at the commander, certainly earning chuckles from her comrades who acknowledged her charisma, but only making Wolffe’s blood boil with more fervor.

It was obvious to Rose that Wolffe was beginning to despise her, and it always became far more notorious whenever Comet was around, as though he were warning his comrade to run away while he still could. The thought only made Rose want to barf.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Comet’s voice broke her off from her current train of thoughts.

Rose had been looking out the balcony of her room, separate from the clones’ barracks, silently admiring Theed’s landscape while fuming inside. Night had fallen not long before that, and stars were just beginning to gleam in the rich, royal blue sky, and the flickering lights of the city looked like stars on earth that could only have been brought down by the smooth breeze that kissed Rose’s skin, a lot of it exposed by the black silk tank top and panties she wore.

With a teasing smile, Rose turned around and leaned on one of the balcony’s pillars, adopting her best angle to enhance her chest and her legs as her eyes scanned Comet with playful whispers of desire, at least until she raised a brow at him when she noticed what he was wearing.

“Is that my sweater?” She asked him.

Comet chuckled and ran his hand over his chest, brushing the coral-colored yarn that made up Rose’s favorite oversized sweater, his lower half only covered by a pair of fitted black boxers. “I got cold waiting for you, fireball,” he’d gotten used to addressing her with a word for his own name.

“Sorry,” her smile was sincere and apologetic now as she took soft, barefoot paces towards the bed, her features readopting her spunk when she finally reached him. “Well, enlighten me. What was I thinking?”

Comet smirked at Rose as she sat on her bed, once again posing to purposefully make her breasts appear their best for him. His strong, calloused hands, those of a soldier, found her hips and ran up the sides of her torso and back down, the second time around underneath the thin silk blouse.

“Well, I watched you while you were out at the balcony—like I usually do, because you’re so damn hot—and I noticed your brow was furrowed and you were pinching your lower lip,” Comet said. “Which I wish you wouldn’t do, but I know you do it when you’re anxious or just thinking too much.”

Rose smiled softly at her man, heat rushing to her face at the sight of his unbelievably kind and soft smile.

“You know, I’m beginning to get why you like oversized sweaters so much,” Comet lightly tugged on the loose fabric. “They’re comfortable as fuck.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to take it off, sweetheart,” Rose chuckled. “That one’s mine.”

“You’ll have to rip it off me,” Comet smirked at her.

Rose’s laugh was rich, playful, sprinkled with a fine dash of seduction as she crawled on top of him, straddling his waist. She bent forward and rested her forearms on Comet’s chest, teeth flashing at him in a charming grin as she bit that full lower lip that Comet loved so much.

“I love that sweater too much to rip it, so here’s what’s going to happen,” Rose purred at him as her fingers danced on his chest. “I’m going to ask you nicely, and you’re going to take off my sweater.”

“An item for an item, then,” Comet replied, matching her tone. “I lose the sweater, you lose the panties.”

“Oh? Not my top?”

“I really like that top,” he bared his teeth seductively at her, his hands groping firmly at her ass. “Now take off the panties.”

Rose cooed, pleased by Comet’s sense of authority and dominance. He wasn’t the one in charge of things around the squad, but he surely had it in him to be a leader, and Rose welcomed that in the bedroom. She perched herself up on her knees and wiggled her hips softly as her fingers teased the rims of her panties, pulling them down painfully slowly. Comet’s eyes darkened at the sight of the beautiful woman in front of him, all but stripping for him. Swiftly, Rose shifted her weight to the side and she tossed the panties playfully on the ground, her gaze never leaving Comet’s for a second.

“Now take off the sweater,” Rose mimicked him with a hitch in her breath.

“Only ‘cuz you held your end of the deal,” Comet grinned, sitting up halfway to remove the sweater and toss it gently to the edge of the bed. He growled at Rose, beckoning her to come closer to him, and with her eyes scanning every line of his muscles and every scar that contrasted with his bronze skin, while his eyes remained fixed on her cleavage and the way her hair fell in graceful waves down her breasts, dangling softly as she bent over.

“Please, just kiss me,” Comet said, his eyes sparkling flames in front of her.

Without a second in between, Rose lowered herself down and crashed her lips on his, kissing him with hunger as both of their bodies ignited together. Comet ran his hands up and down her thighs, teasing the sensitive skin near her wetness but not touching her there just yet. Rose dug her fingers into his scalp and played with some of his curls, sending shivers down every inch of his skin. She rocked her hips against him, covering the black fabric of his boxers with her arousal and letting it bleed through, soaking his already throbbing length. A low growl formed in Comet’s chest, silently speaking his most sinful desires. He was so dazed that it took him a couple of seconds to come to his senses and realize Rose’s lips had left his and began their way down his neck.

She nipped at his sensitive skin, barely letting her teeth graze his warmth and she was already drawing out whimpers from him. He muttered how much he loved her, how utterly amazing she was; he thought he was only speaking to himself, but he said the words loud enough for Rose to hear, and she smirked into his skin as her kisses sailed down the middle of his chest. A string of curses in fluent Mando’a was spoken in his beautiful, deep voice as Rose softly trailed her tongue down his abdomen, perfectly marking out the comet tattoo he had on his belly that resembled the symbol on his helmet, all while her fingers delicately traced patterns on his hips and later his thighs as she got lower. Rose had barely done anything to him yet, but Comet felt his eyes wanting to roll back when he felt her breath fanning on his shaft over the fabric.

If there was anything Rose liked doing in bed, it was teasing. The tips of her fingers lightly tapped on Comet’s hipbones, approaching the rim of his boxers only to back away again. Comet grunted and looked down at her, his eyes pleading, pooled with fire; just having her there in front of his cock shot fire through his veins, and soon he was trembling under her touch.

“Please,” he choked out.

Rose chuckled, the sound sweet and seductive, his own femme fatale. “Such a nice boy you are, Comet.”

He shuddered at the mention of his name. “Rose…”

“Yes, Comet?” Rose knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his hand traveling to her hair to ball the wavy black locks into a tight fist.

The room was once again filled with Rose’s laughter, shocking Comet with how it could sound so playful and even innocent, yet so provocative, craving. But as he continued to process the delightful sound of Rose’s laughter, she finally wrapped her fingers around the hem of Comet’s boxers and pulled them down all the way, tossing them aside for them to land just beside her panties that rested on the floor.

Comet’s length stood proud, long, already dripping with precum merely caused by Rose’s kissing and teasing. She looked up at his eyes just as she inched closer to his cock, breath brushing over the tender skin. Comet’s chest heaved up and down, his hand still stroking at her hair, all while he waited for her to lick him, suck on him, do anything to him. Still in a manner of teasing, Rose grinned at him and let the very tip of her tongue lick from the base to his tip, savoring in the taste of his precum, taking in every groan and mutter let out by Comet.

She hit her own limit too. Comet looked delicious in front of her and, driven wild by his taste, she finally took in as much of Comet’s length as she could. Rose moaned softly at the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her mouth. She ran her tongue swiftly over the veins of his length, aided by her hands to massage his balls and have him writhing underneath her. He saw white, only feeling her mouth on his cock, her saliva dripping down his balls, and just when he rounded up the strength to look at her, Rose’s gaze met his and she parted from his cock, mouth parted and tongue hanging out ever so slightly to emphasize the string of saliva that still connected her to the tip of his cock.

“Kriff…” Comet muttered as he took his hand to stroke her cheek.

With lustful eyes, Rose lowered herself back on him, her red lips parted around his cock, cheeks hollowing as she sucked him raw. A long, sinful moan escaped Comet; he knew he was close. With his hand, he gently beckoned Rose to look at him again, buying him some time before he could form words again.

“Rose…” he said. “Come here, love… I want to cum inside you…”

She cooed with excitement, her mouth still stuffed with his length. She pulled out with a loud pop! as his cock was set free again, and with a large grin, Rose crawled up to Comet and lied back on the mattress, leaving for him to top her.

Comet brightly smiled at her, bewildered by the fact that he was finally sharing intimacy with Rose. He kissed her lips passionately, reveling in how soft and warm her lips felt against his, only embellished by the fruity taste of her lipstick. Comet softly massaged her breasts over the silk top she still wore, pinching her pebbled buds just enough to make her whimper.

Fuck, she was hot.

Comet kissed down her neck, sucking and nibbling at her tender skin to mark her with a prominent hickey to announce she was his. Still playing with her nibbles, leaving the hickey on her skin made Rose moan sweetly at him, her thighs clenching around his figure. He kissed along the edges of her top, along the cleavage and up the strap of her shoulder to take it between his teeth and growl playfully at her before kissing her lips again as he parted her thighs with his hands.

Rose nodded at him, grinning with a blend of love and thirst. Comet grinned back and inched himself into her tight walls, moaning at how hot and wet she was and how she squeezed around his cock. A brief explosion of pleasure burst in his chest the more he pushed himself in as he looked her in the eyes, and he pecked her lips when his tip reached her deepest corner.

Comet began with a sensual pace, always making sure to be looking at her. His hands held the sides of her head, fingers combing through strands of her hair. Rose watched as his figure swayed up and down with every rock of his hips. The fullness blew her away and drew moans from her she didn’t even know she could make. It had been a while since the last time she’d had sex with anyone, and to be doing it for the first time in a while, with Comet, it set her on fire in ways she couldn’t explain.

Heat and pressure bundled in her womb, liquid heat flowing down her body and filling every corner. Comet picked up his pace the more he felt himself getting closer. His eyes pierced into Rose’s; her hands traveled up and down his back, letting her feel every clench and release of his muscles. At last, Comet’s luscious pace had morphed into an unrelenting tempo, and the obscene sounds of skin slapping and Rose’s wetness squelching climbed above her moaning, They were both ready to release, ready to come undone in each other.

They were both moaning out each other’s names. Comet was the first one to hit the precipice, grunting and choking out Rose’s name as he lost complete control of his hips when the hot ropes of white shot inside her, his voice rendered to breathy moans just as Rose’s escalated when she hit her peak too. Her pussy gripped Comet’s cock even harder, and her body quaked with every wave of her orgasm. Comet took his thumb to lightly trace over her clit, only enhancing the pleasure and turning her moans into beautiful screams of bliss.

Comet pulled out of her just before he’d faint from overstimulation, and his body fell limp on top of hers. Despite his current physical weakness, he managed to wrap his arms around Rose and squeezer to him, lying beside her. He planted several kisses on her temple and her forehead, and as Rose caught her breath, her hands rested tenderly on his chest as she reveled in his warmth and the overall softness of his presence.

“You’re as amazing as I always dreamed you’d be,” Comet whispered.

Rose looked up at him. “You too, love.”

He smiled brightly, eyes closing gently as he drifted further into slumber. As she felt herself slipping off too, the gentle night breeze of Naboo pranced into the room and swirled around her body. Rose was sure that, as lovely as it felt, it would never feel better than lips on her skin, and with that thought she fell asleep too.

The sun rose over Naboo in yet another wonderful morning, with a shining blue sky, birds slinging, flowers in all their beauty and glory, sunlight reflecting of the lakes and rivers of the lovely city of Theed. Never had ordinary life seemed so beautiful to Rose, but of course, anything would so long as she held onto Comet’s hand.

So far, there were no plans for the day. No errands to run. Free as birds, Rose was ready to spend a whole day with Comet after the romantic night prior to that lovely morning. As she looked at him, she remembered the gleam in his eyes as they were molded into one, the sounds he made, the way his hands felt on her. And whenever he looked at her, he smiled widely, only fueling the flame between them. Their love was almost tangible, visible, obvious to anybody who saw it. A couple of lovers, glowing, each only belonging to the other—

“Why the fuck were you not at the barracks last night?”

Rose and Comet winced silently and turned around. While they were both dressed in civvies, commander Wolffe was fully armored, and he glared at them like they’d both just set off a bomb on a group of refugees.

“Hey, commander,” Comet chuckled. “Want me to lend you a shirt so you don’t have to wear that all day?”

“Answer the question, trooper,” Wolffe growled, not bothering to look at Rose, and trying his best not to look at their hands joined together.

Comet’s eyes quickly darted to Rose before he softly laughed again. “You want the short version or the long one?”

Rose blushed and couldn’t help a little laugh of her own. Only then did Wolffe’s gaze find her. It wasn’t like Wolffe didn’t know that Comet had spent the night wrapped in Rose’s arms, most likely after a very passionate session of loving. It only made the commander bare his teeth.

“If you must know, I was with this lovely lady right here,” Comet let go of Rose’s hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

“You have to report to the barracks.”

“We’re on shore leave,” Comet said as reasonably as he could. “You said yourself once we had a bit more freedom on shore leaves.”

“And I was in my official room,” Rose intervened. “Still, technically, part of our assigned barracks. Comet didn’t step a foot out of place.”

“I’m addressing my trooper,” Wolffe snarled.

“Okay, I think you can avoid talking like that to her for once,” Comet stopped him.

The two clone troopers, often on good terms, puffed at each other; the testosterone was nearly tangible as they bared their teeth to one another, Comet clearly challenging the alpha wolf.

“Stop,” Rose stepped in between them, her hands resting on Comet’s chest gently to get him to stand down, but the sight only made Wolffe feel worse, and he was getting pretty damn tired of feeling worse by seeing them together.

“You realize you don’t have the day off,” Wolffe evaded Rose and addressed Comet. “Neither of you do.”

“Excuse me?” Rose.

“Comet would know if he’d returned to the barracks,” Wolffe said.

“What about me? I don’t sleep in the same barracks, when was I supposed to know?” Rose challenged him too.

“Early in the morning, but you clearly slept in,” Wolffe dissed her. “Comet, you need to help out at the cafeteria for the refugees. Corvis took the night shift, it’s your turn. Sinker and Boost will be there to help you.”

“I assume you’re going to split us up again,” Comet caught onto Wolffe’s intentions.

“Yes,” the commander replied shamelessly. He looked at Rose, his gaze still tainted with all the bubbling anger he felt, but he sighed regretfully afterwards. “I hate to assign you on this mission because it’s far less dynamic, but the queen’s uncle is sick and he’s requested every medic on hand to be nearby.”

“So I have to go help him,” Rose’s on-duty voice came out.

“Yes, and no,” Wolffe said, his voice gruff, yet his eyes oddly displaying sincerity, shocking Rose. “He just wants you in the building. Just in case. He already has two nurses and a doctor formally looking after him, but he’s both paranoid and egotistical. He wants all available medics, that includes you.”

“So I’m just going to stand there?” Rose asked.

“If it helps, the queen protested,” Wolffe told her. “And we’ll be in a big house.”

“We?” Her lips curled in disgust.

“Because you’re part of a GAR squadron, at least one other trooper has to be there with you—”

“Send Comet with me,” Rose said, her tone final. “You go to the cafeteria.”

“Are you giving me an order?” Wolffe snarled.

“I’m offering you a kind suggestion that’ll clearly be better for everyone,” Rose replied with an arrogant smirk as her arm linked around Comet’s, right in the middle for the commander to see.

Wolffe sighed again. He hated that he had to pull rank. He hated that he had to—and he hated to admit—come between Rose and Comet. It wasn’t his plan for the day to go that way, but higher ups had given him those instructions, and he had no choice but to follow them. He wasn’t going to put his troopers’ personal relationships before their duties, and though Wolffe was glad for his vod and, detestably, for Rose, his most despicable corner was also glad they wouldn’t be together the whole day. That same corner was the same one that made him drink too much the first night at the bar and insisted he hold Rose in his arms again someday despite already having made out with her.

Yeah, not even Wolffe understood all those feelings. They disgusted him.

“Protocol calls for a commanding officer when it comes to the royal family,” Wolffe explained. “I had no control over this, and Comet cannot be the one to assist you.”

“Give him your kama, he’ll pass for you,” Rose said.

Wolffe rolled his eyes, about to snap. “Did you not hear me? It’s protocol for the royal family. Don’t make me tell you again, we’re going.”

Rose sighed in defeat. “Fine.”

She was about to kiss Comet goodbye when she remembered Wolffe was still there, and she glared at him. “You mind?”

With a grimace, Wolffe turned around. Behind him, Rose’s gaze softened when her eyes fell on Comet. He clearly wasn’t amused either, but he also softened as he looked at her and held her hands.

“See you tonight?” Rose asked.

“I’ll sneak out,” Comet smirked at her.

They smiled at each other, and Comet lowered down to kiss her softly, though it was more than obvious to Wolffe they were kissing even though his back was turned on them. He even picked up on an incredibly soft moan that escaped Rose, and his whole skin prickled with both anger and desire.

“Don’t have too much fun,” Rose whispered softly when they broke the kiss.

“Impossible,” Comet smiled. “You won’t be there. I won’t be having any fun.”

“Well, don’t tempt fate,” Rose chuckled.

“I’m not,” he said confidently, tapping her chin. “Love you.”

“Love you,” she reciprocated.

His hand brushed hers until the very last moment before he walked away, glaring subtly at Wolffe as he left. Rose was looking at the ground when Comet got out of sight and, reluctantly, her gaze finally landed on Wolffe.

She was oftentimes not too happy to see him, but at that moment, Wolffe knew how much she hated him.

“Big house, huh?” She spoke. “Is there gonna be booze?”

“Most likely,” Wolffe replied. “Though you taking any of it will be frowned upon, obviously.”

Rose feigned a smile at him. “I’ll share. Heavens know I’ll need it if I’m spending a whole day with you.”

“Rose—”

“Consider it the tax that pays for our armor,” Rose scoffed as she began walking off with a dignified sway of her hips. “Lead the way.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes, reminding himself constantly how downright infuriating that woman could be, as if it would help either of them.

Not two minutes had gone by after Rose and Wolffe arrived at the mansion of the queen’s uncle and she was already thinking of ways to sneak out the trash chute—she would have gone through it were it not for the compactor. If no one was talking to them, Rose would sneak an I hate you, this is all your fault glare at the commander, and it was clear to him she no longer had any respect for him.

Apologetically, a handmaiden with big eyes walked up to her and Wolffe. Just by laying gazes on her, Rose and Wolffe knew she was the one responding to all the confused medics there against their will.

“I’m really sorry for all of this,” said the handmaiden. “He might not be as sick as he thinks he is, but the queen’s uncle sure is a bit… demented.”

“We won’t tell, don’t worry,” Rose nodded. “I take it no one’s really doing anything?”

“No,” said she. “He has his two nurses with him and they’re doing more than enough. I’d let you all go, but protocol won’t let me. Not when it’s been his strict request to keep medics on alert until he’s better.”

“We understand,” Rose replied kindly. “So… we just stay here?”

The handmaiden nodded. “It’s a big house, so the least I can tell you is to make yourself at home. Several rooms are available, perhaps you’d like to spend some of your shore leave there?” She picked up on Rose’s civilian outfit. “It’s the least and most I can do.”

Rose was clearly annoyed by the whole thing, but her gaze was soft and understanding towards the handmaiden. Seeing her that way gave Wolffe an odd sense of hope, thinking perhaps they could spend the day peacefully, for once.

“I appreciate it,” Rose said. “You have my comm frequency. It might not happen, but if you do need me, hit me up.

The handmaiden nodded and smiled. “Thanks.”

Rose nodded off and went to find her way around the opulent mansion with Wolffe following closely after her. They had to look in a couple of rooms that were already occupied before finding one that was free. Rose waltzed herself in and immediately went towards the cupboards resting on the wall, fumbling around the cabinets and grinning once she finally found the one stuffed with bottles of liquor and whiskey.

“You’re not serious,” Wolffe scowled.

“You’re still here?” Rose stood up, bottle of whiskey in her hand, and carelessly, she rid it of its cap and drank directly from it, grimacing at the way it burned down her throat. “Damn, that’s good. Here,” She threw the bottle at Wolffe. He reacted quickly enough to catch it before disaster happened; with a cold rush over his body, he looked back up to meet Rose’s gaze, cold and unamused. She knew what she was doing, the message she wanted to get across.

Rose grabbed another bottle from the cabinet and opened it too, ready to keep it to herself as she stepped out onto the balcony, leaving Wolffe alone in the room to inevitably drink as well.

The hours dragged. Rose lowkey hoped everyone else would desert the mansion if only it would mean giving her something to do. But her comm didn’t ring a single time, and the day was just too quiet. She even tried calling Comet’s comm frequency a couple times, estimating more or less when he’d have a recess or a break, but he never picked up. On top of the day being excruciatingly slow, it was lonely. It reminded her of the occasions in which she’d have free time at the space station orbiting Rishi, and she didn’t like it. She was out on a balcony, a whole city in front of her, and she still felt boxed in.

The sun was beginning to set and Rose counted the minutes before she was officially allowed to go home. The whiskey had disappeared gradually, the bottle only about a quarter full now, sending that weird tingling sensation down her body. The wind felt cold on her cheeks, prompting her to go inside. Stepping in, she found Wolffe’s figure sitting on the couch, upright and with a datapad in his hands, but his bottle of whiskey was even more drained than hers was.

Rose looked at him with eyes that were both tired and annoyed. “You’re still here.”

Wolffe mirrored her gaze. “Of course I am.”

She scoffed. “I’m going back outside.”

“Will you stop behaving like a spoiled brat already?” Wolffe set the datapad aside and walked toward her, his broad figure already towering before her.

“Oh, I’m the brat?” Rose walked slowly closer to him. “You got your way! You ruined my day!”

Wolffe growled and bared his teeth slightly at Rose, who had to admit the tingling sensation went straight down between her legs when she saw Wolffe’s expression.

She shot him a snarky grin. “You’re such a bastard, you know that?”

“How much have you been drinking?” Wolffe stole a glance at the bottle she held at her side, but let his eyes linger at the cleavage of her little black blouse, and only then did he notice the size of her breasts and how perky they looked. His gaze wondered down her green and black plaid miniskirt that teased just enough around her hips and her inner thighs, the smooth skin exposed and looking invitingly soft. He knew she was hot, but damn, was he only realizing how sexy her legs were, how sexy she was as a whole.

“Less than you, thank you for your kind concern,” Rose curtsied as a mockery. “Now leave me alone.”

But Wolffe took just one more step closer to her, enough for his breath to fan over her. She looked up at him with unchanged eyes until she smiled with spite. The two locked eyes with one another, both full of whiskey, but still clear enough to think. When Wolffe growled at her, he knew what he was doing, and so did she.

“I hate you,” she said quietly.

Wolffe felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end and his trousers growing chafingly tight under his codpiece. He slammed his bottle down on the nearby caf table, took her bottle, and did the same, all while his eyes pierced hers. His hand slid up her chest, easily gliding over the curve of her breasts before it reached her neck. His slender fingers wrapped around her neck, and he pressed just barely enough to lightly cut air from her, drawing a short, choked, sinful moan from her.

The commander then leaned in dangerously close to her lips and whispered, “Say that again. I fucking dare you.”

Rose smirked again, not cowering down like she expected he thought she would.

“I hate you,” she repeated through gritted teeth.

Wolffe’s fingers squeezed a tad more around her throat, enough to draw a delicious chirp from her.

“Yeah? Well, fuck you,” Wolffe growled.

Rose chuckled, looking as if she were about to spit at him, her eyes alight with spunk and with lust, and she took her own hand up to his throat and squeezed just as lightly as he was.

“Fuck me yourself, you bastard.”

Wolffe’s lips then came crashing down on hers, locking them in a kiss bursting with raw craving and fire. Their hands on each other’s throats, both were groaning and grunting as their lips continued to eat each other. Wolffe used his spare hand to throw away bits of his armor and then ran it up and down Rose’s thigh. He released her throat only for a few seconds to remove his gloves, and immediately after, his hand returned to her neck while the other one slid up her skirt and pushed her panties aside to rub her clit, too wet for her to have any defense.

Rose bit her lip and moaned as she rocked her hips against Wolffe’s fingers, while his gaze continued prying into her. She could almost see the flames in his brown eyes, but her own little whimpers distracted her from that. Liquid fire darted through her body as she began pulling on the top of Wolffe’s blacks, rid of armor, and she got the fabric off him to reveal his strong torso, the bronze skin lined with muscles and scars. Unlike other troopers, Wolffe had prominent chest hair, and Rose couldn’t find a way not to moan at the sight of the thick layer that faded down his belly into a treasure trail that led to his hardening length.

“You like me, don’t you, bunny?” Wolffe growled, a smirk tainting his lips.

“I fucking hate you,” Rose whispered, her voice contradicted by tiny whines as his fingers didn’t cease teasing her clit. “I despise you, Wolffe.”

“You’re not a fucking bundle of joy yourself,” he bared his teeth as he slipped his middle finger down her dripping entrance and kept his thumb at the sensitive little bud. “You’re insufferable… arrogant…”

“And yet, you have a cute pet name for me,” Rose innocently pouted her lips at him and prided herself in riling him up further.

“You know what a bunny is to a wolf?” His hand squeezed her throat. “A prey. You’re mine, bunny… you’re all mine...”

“You’ve wanted me from the start,” she chuckled. “That explains a lot.”

Wolffe growled. “You’re aggravating.”

“You’re repulsive,” she panted in response.

“Nauseating,” he countered.

“Odious,” Rose whimpered out, her voice then strained by a long moan just as she neared her climax at Wolffe’s skillful fingering. Her nails dug into his back, making Wolffe writhe with a hungry groan, while her gaze lingered down his chest. She threw her head back against the wall, ready to feel her orgasm take over her body, when Wolffe pulled his hand away and walked over to the couch.

Rose laughed. “Get back here and finish the job, you coward.”

“You’re going to have to hop into my den, bunny,” Wolffe emphasized as he removed his belt and threw it aside followed by the armor on his thighs, and finally, his codpiece, making his large bulge visible.

Fervor exploded in Rose’s body as she walked up to Wolffe and threw her arms around his back, wiggling out of her clothes as Wolffe pulled her shirt off from her torso and took her panties off to throw them aside, leaving her with only her skirt and her adorable black lace bra.

“Fuck,” he grunted as his hands firmly grabbed her ass, lifting her up. She hopped onto him and wrapped her legs around his torso, and he finally lowered her down on his cock and guided her body for her to bounce on his shaft at a merciless rhythm that made Rose’s eyes roll back and moans drip from her lips.

“Be quiet, bunny,” Wolffe’s tone was deceptively caring. “Other people in the mansion are going to hear what a little slut you are.”

Her laughter was rich and provocative; heat pooled in every corner of her body and made her see stars all around her. She felt herself squeeze around his cock that throbbed inside her as he continued to fuck her, his balance never wavering in his standing position. His most primal instincts shone through when he noticed a hickey on her neck and, asserting his dominance, he growled and marked her neck with another two, nibbling and sucking at her skin and drawing obscene sounds from Rose.

One of her hands combed through his curls, tugging slightly on them. Wolffe only had to keep one of his hands on her hips, and the other one ruffled through Rose’s goddess-like wavy locks as his balls kept swinging, hips striking her ass, both engulfed in steamy, raw pleasure. Not long after, her walls squeezed around his pulsating member, and Rose finally hit the peak she desperately longed for. Her moans, strained in an effort to not be loud, danced into Wolffe’s ears, pushing him over his edge too. He growled, kneaded his fingers into her meaty flesh, kept her forehead on his to look into her eyes, moaning out the word bunny as he reminded her she’d always belonged to him.

Wolffe grunted as he spilled himself inside her, his essence painting her all-too-sensitive walls. He relished in the sweet, high-pitch whines Rose let out at the sensation of being stuffed by his cum, and then, their bodies relaxed. Wolffe kept carrying Rose, his head buried in the crook of her neck. Gently, he lowered down onto the couch, sitting down with her legs swung over him, her body cradled in his strong arms as his lips trailed kisses along her neck and jawline.

He simply held her. Her scent invaded his senses, bringing him from a state of lust to one of peace. She was finally in his arms, her body against his, where she belonged, with who she belonged. Oh, she felt perfect in his grip, small and sweet, soft, safe. Wolffe backed up from her neck and his eyes sought out hers before landing on her beautiful lips, tainted red, and he leaned down hoping to feel their full form against his.

But Rose backed away. Her eyes widened in horror and she squirmed out of his grip, her chest heaving up and down as she panted, taking in the full weight of what she’d done as the ecstasy died down.

What have I done?

She scrambled around the room to find her blouse and her panties, her hands shaking in the process. Wolffe got up from the couch and pulled his clothes over him too, holding out a hand to try and steady Rose.

“Rose,” he spoke. “Rose, it’s okay.”

“No,” she panted. “No, it isn’t.”

“Rose—”

“I just willingly cheated on Comet…” her broken voice said, more to herself than to Wolffe.

The commander sighed, ignoring his own wound. “Rose.”

“Listen to me,” she said. “You and I don’t like each other. This never happened, and if it did, it was meaningless, you hear me? It meant nothing.”

Rose gathered her things and exited the room without a second thought, without looking back, without letting Wolffe say it wasn’t meaningless to him.

Naboo was veiled in the night now. Rose snuck out of the mansion, tears staining her eyes, making them sting with the cool wind. She ran down the streets back to headquarters, careful not to find anyone, and she hid behind a pillar at headquarters’ fancy lobby, rummaging around her purse for her comm.

She had to tell Comet. Hiding it from him would only make it worse. She loved him. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore, and she knew he at the very least deserved to know. Hands shaking, Rose dialed his frequency again, desperately hoping he’d pick up this time.

“Hey,” Comet’s voice answered on the other end of the comm.

“Comet?” Rose couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. “Comet, where are you? I-I need to talk to you?”

“I’m just heading back to headquarters,” Comet sounded on alert, clearly having picked up on the note of her voice. “I’ll meet you at your room, alright?”

“Yeah,” she answered and hung up. She rushed to her room, not bothering to look around corners to recognize anybody, certainly hoping not to run into Wolffe again. Her room was empty and silent, and she hurried to sit at the bed after closing the door behind her, hands pressed together as her thumbs fiddled with each other, every second feeling eternal.

Finally, Comet arrived, and with him was a look of worry and something Rose picked up on to resemble regret. It pained her that he’d be the one to feel that way. Heavens knew she was the one stained with remorse.

Comet instantly picked up on her worried expression. He closed the door behind her and went to sit next to her on the bed, taking his hands in hers.

“I’m here,” he said. “What is it?”

“Comet, I—” Rose’s voice broke, against all her pride. “I—”

“Talk to me,” Comet scanned her with worry.

Ultimately, Rose broke into tears. “I got drunk and I slept with Wolffe!”

Comet gasped, overwhelmed with sensations. Rose’s revelation, her sobs, the feeling he already carried with him before even reaching headquarters. He watched as she broke down before him, and his first instinct was to hug her close to him and rest her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Comet!”

He held her in front of him again. “Hey, hey, listen to me. Rose, listen to me.”

Sniffling, Rose looked at him.

“Was it consensual?”

“Yes,” Rose answered without a doubt. “Yes, it was, but still… It’s worse, I—I let it happen, Comet, but it meant nothing! It meant nothing, I promise you…”

She hugged him again, sobbing loudly into his chest. “I’m so sorry, Comet… I love you, you know I do. I love you and only you.”

Every word hit Comet like a dagger, but he knew he had to be there for her now. Whatever happened throughout the day didn’t matter, he had to be there to help Rose.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “Rose, look at me.”

She lifted her gaze. Her crying had quieted down, but her eyes were still puffy and stained.

“We all make mistakes,” he said, gently rubbing her cheek. “We’re not perfect. And I believe you. I know it didn’t mean anything to you.”

She sniffled. “It really didn’t. I love you, Comet.”

He smiled sadly at her. “I love you too.”

“Can you please find a way to forgive me?” She asked him, voice full of hope and resentment at once.

His heart squeezed, thinking in any case, he had no right to claim anything of her.

“I forgive you,” he said. “Even though there’s nothing much to forgive.”

“There is,” Rose strained, threatening to become a mess of tears again.

“Well then, I forgive you,” he hugged her gently. “Come here… Don’t cry, please…”

Rose tried her best to quiet herself down, still sniffling into Comet’s chest.

“Thank you,” Rose said. At the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to say much more due to her voice, but she was eternally grateful. She’d screwed up big time, which was undeniable, but Comet had a heart of gold.

And that heart of gold was the only reason Comet’s heart ached with emotions, for as Rose hugged him, her hand hovered just over the pouch in his belt where the new girl’s comm frequency rested inside.

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circlecast · 7 months

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How To Forgive Yourself and Move On

Welcome to this episode of The Relaxed Male, where I, Brian, the host, will be diving into the topic of forgiveness. We all have those moments in life where we make terrible mistakes and feel a deep sense of regret. Today, I want to emphasize the importance of forgiving oneself for these screw-ups. As the host of The Relaxed Male, my mission is to help men remove the "nice guy" persona from their lives and live life on their own terms. As a certified men's coach, I work closely with men who are going through challenging times such as divorces or job losses. My goal is to assist them in finding clarity and relaxation amidst their suffering.

Each episode of the show focuses on changing one's perspective on life, identity, and thoughts to overcome pain and become victors instead of victims. In fact, I have some exciting plans coming up, including going live on YouTube and participating in a podcast posting challenge in November. But that's not all! I want to invite you, my listeners, to a try coaching event that I'll be hosting via Zoom. This is an opportunity for you to experience the power of coaching firsthand and learn how it can help you achieve your goals. You can sign up for the event and find all the details on the website.

I want to thank each and every one of you for your continued support. The show is experiencing steady growth, and it wouldn't be possible without your listenership. If this is your first time tuning in, welcome!

We have a lot to talk about, so let's dive into today's episode on how to forgive yourself. It's common to reflect on our past actions and realize that some choices were not the best. We may feel regret, self-shame, and start self-hating. But it's crucial to move past these feelings and give ourselves grace. We are human, and humans make mistakes.

Constantly beating ourselves up and dwelling on past mistakes is not productive. It's important to pay attention to our thoughts because our mind has a tendency to ruminate and go over the same scenario repeatedly without finding any solutions. We need to stop criticizing ourselves and others. The shoulda, woulda, coulda mentality is not helpful. Instead, let's be aware of our thoughts and where they track to.

Our mind tries to muddy the water by offering alternative scenarios, making it difficult to see the actual circumstance. Taking responsibility for our actions and not making excuses is crucial. Forgiveness starts with accepting that we made a mistake and taking responsibility for it. It's about recognizing that it was the wrong thought and replacing it with a better thought. We must voice our mistakes out loud, removing the shame and guilt associated with them. It's important to acknowledge and address whatever is eating away at us.

Granting ourselves grace and forgiveness is essential, especially when we find ourselves dwelling on past wrongdoings. While some crimes may have legal consequences, forgiving ourselves is essential for our mental well-being. Shame, often influenced by religion or societal norms, can cause severe harm if we don't forgive ourselves.

Misusing the power of our minds can be damaging, just like misapplying nutrition. Let's strive for moderation in all aspects of our lives and let go of past mistakes to maintain a healthy state of mind.

Bottling up secrets and not forgiving ourselves can lead to long-term adverse effects. I recently came across a book called "The Body Keeps the Score" and I'm curious to explore its content and see if it lives up to its praise. Being intentional with our thoughts and redirecting them away from self-criticism and shame is crucial. Granting ourselves grace and forgiveness is essential for personal growth and the ability to extend grace to others. If you're interested in taking your personal growth to the next level, I offer coaching services. Y

ou can find more information on my website and check out the upcoming "try coaching" event on October 14th. I encourage you to share this message with others if you found it helpful or insightful. The Relaxed Male community is focused on helping men improve themselves in all aspects, including their mind, body, soul, and community. By working on these pillars, men can become more balanced and masculine, which is crucial in today's society. Once again, thank you all for your support and for tuning in. I wish you well until the next episode.

https://www.relaxedmale.com/trycoaching

00:00:00 The Struggle of Forgiving Yourself for Mistakes

00:03:09 Announcement: Try Coaching Event on October 14th

00:06:17 Growing the podcast and encouraging listeners to subscribe

00:10:04 Overcoming self-doubt and shame

00:12:58 Breaking free from rumination and finding solutions

00:13:46 Building a Bridge to Forgiving Yourself

00:15:12 Muddying the Water and Breaking Free from Guilt

00:23:53 The power of our mind and religion

00:25:20 The impact of secrets and fibromyalgia

00:32:50 Introduction to Coaching and Try Coaching Event

Newest podcast episode to change your Mindset

#Mindset Anxiety RelaxedMale

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blackhistorychatgpt · 1 year

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President Kamala Harris

I got tired of commentators at the beginning of State of the Union talking about Kamala not being electable/popular so I wrote my own version of events. Don't know if ChatGPT is telling us something about 2024 we don't know....

ME: Write Kamala Harris' 2000 word acceptance speech to be the first female president of the United States after defeating Ron DeSantis in the 2024 election. She won on a platform of American jobs, police reform, Green technology investment, and passing the right to abortion.

Dear fellow Americans,

I stand before you today, humbled and grateful, as your elected President of the United States. It is with a heavy heart that I accept this mantle of leadership at a time of great division and uncertainty in our country. But it is also with a fierce determination to heal and unify our nation, to restore faith in our democracy, and to build a better future for all Americans.

I want to start by thanking the millions of voters who came out and cast their ballots, despite the challenges posed by a global pandemic. Your voice has been heard loud and clear, and I will work tirelessly to honor your trust and to deliver on the promises I made during this campaign.

I also want to acknowledge my opponent, Ron DeSantis, for running a hard-fought campaign. Regardless of our political differences, we must all come together to serve the American people. I extend my hand in friendship and cooperation, and I hope we can find common ground on the issues that matter most to our country.

Now, let me turn to the task at hand. As your President, I will work every day to create jobs and build a strong economy that works for everyone, not just the wealthy and powerful. I will work to reform our criminal justice system and to ensure that everyone is held accountable, regardless of their race or station in life. I will work to protect and expand access to affordable healthcare, to address the disparities that have left far too many communities behind.

I will also make it a priority to invest in green technology, to create new jobs and to address the existential threat of climate change. And I will work to defend a woman's right to choose, to ensure that every woman has the opportunity to make decisions about her own body and her own future.

But I want to be clear that these are not just policy priorities. They are moral imperatives. They are tests of our character as a nation. And they are challenges that we must rise to meet, if we are to be true to the ideals that have made our country great.

My fellow Americans, I know that we can do this. I know that we can heal the wounds of our past and build a brighter future for all of our children. I know that we can rise above the hatred and the fear that have divided us, and come together as one people, united in our quest for a better life.

So let us begin this journey, together. Let us show the world what it means to be American. Let us prove that we are a nation of hope and of courage, of resilience and of strength. Let us march forward, hand in hand, and build a future that is worthy of the sacrifice and the dreams of those who came before us.

Thank you, God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.

Me: Write Kamala Harris' acceptance speech to be the first female president of the United States after defeating Ron DeSantis in the 2024 election. She won on a platform of American jobs, police reform, Green technology investment, and passing the right to abortion.

ChatGPT:

My fellow Americans,

Today marks a historic moment in our nation's history. A moment when we shattered a glass ceiling and proved that anything is possible.

I stand here before you tonight, honored and humbled by the trust you have placed in me to lead this great nation as your first female president.

To those who supported my campaign, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your hard work and unwavering commitment has made this victory possible.

To my opponent, Ron DeSantis, I extend my hand in partnership. It is time for us to put aside our differences and work together for the betterment of all Americans.

My administration will prioritize the creation of American jobs, the reform of our law enforcement agencies, the investment in green technology, and the protection of women's reproductive rights. These issues impact all of us and it is our collective responsibility to address them.

We face many challenges, but I am confident that together we can overcome them. Let us work to build a better future for our children, a future where every person has an equal opportunity to succeed.

So let us start this new chapter, not with division and hatred, but with unity and love. Let us move forward, not as Democrats or Republicans, but as Americans.

Thank you, and God bless America.

#KamalaHarris #FirstFemalePresident #2024Election #AmericanJobs #PoliceReform #GreenTech #RightToAbortion #HistoricMoment #WomenInLeadership #ChangeIsHere #chatGPT #black history month

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dinasilvertongue · 1 year

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My total was actually about $50 less than the estimate cuz it didn't take as long in labor hours & the part they'd ordered was a little cheaper than the one they'd originally planned, which was out of stock... I mean, obviously, it's an adjustment for me because I'm used to paying $35-40/hr directly to the mechanic, instead of shelling out $143/hr to a shop (other places charge even more, though not much more)—but if I'm going to go to a shop, then these guys are worth it... And we know shit happens w/my fellow Eastern-European immigrant mechanic sort of guys—like, either they become personally unavailable for an extended period of time, or they install a fucking EGR valve that's cheaper than that water bottle I almost bought today & then refuse to acknowledge the possibility that they may have fucked up—I mean, that was *quite* a saga, which did eventually get much more expensively fixed by those same Earl's Garage guys... But those guys were just a delight today—they actually brought out that Jane dog right after 4 to hang out w/me in the lobby because Tim said to Jack (the mechanic who I think did work on Celestine & whose dog it is), "Yeah she wants to see her," even though he was just reading me, I wasn't requesting it out loud... And then Jack had a seat & was telling me how actually common it is for Huskies to have two differently colored eyes, one brown & one blue, though Jane's eyes are both brown because she's only half Husky, & the other half Lab... Then, he said, for a cat it's unusual to have two different eyes, after which he pointed out that Tim has that too—but Tim said, actually, his eyes are just two colors w/in the same eye, but not two differently colored eyes... "Oh that's right, I saw that," Jack said, "when I gazed deeply into your eyes"... And I was like, "Well, you guys do work at a place that's very conducive to male bonding"—and Jack goes, "Well, they don't call it Earl's Gay-rage for nothing"—which kind of blew me away (I mean, for a car shop), so I said, "Well, that's nice that you guys are comfortable talking that way"—because it was kind of a natural moment, you know—and they were both, like, totally nonchalantly, "Oh yeah, we don't care, we're totally cool with that"... It's just amazing how different work places that do the same sort of thing can have such different internal cultures (it's the same w/my job as well)—cuz at that other Ace shop it's a totally different vibe... I mean, I don't know how they feel about the whole "gay thing"—but I know that just handing my car keys to this one dude that one time when I had a flat tire (on Luca's birthday; and today is also my half-birthday) made me feel like he was condescendingly smirking at me for no other reason than that I must be female; I mean, I can't imagine any other reason he would look down on me in that context—sure, I did say "sorry about the mess" & grabbed a bag of groceries before I headed out, but that doesn't really warrant a look of condescension, does it?... It's like, seriously, man—get the fuck over it, a half of us are female & most of us do drive & own cars, and that has been the case for quite some time... There's nothing about what we just did that warrants that kind of attitude on your part... Yes, people get flat tires—that's not unusual; and plenty of us, both male & female, need other ppl's help to install new ones—so what exactly is it in this context that makes you feel you're so much better than me?... (I digress, but I just don't get people sometimes... Speaking of which, & on a totally different note—it's amazing how many people out there on the streets behave as if they're actually talking to someone when, in fact, they're not talking to anyone that anyone else can see—today I saw at least two very prominent examples of it... It's very Cittàgazze—but what really drives me nuts is that a person who's yelling at someone who's supposedly standing in front of them, never fucking shuts up to let that other invisible person talk; if I were that ghost, I'd be seriously annoyed...)

#one of them (Northgate Station) was actually quite well dressed & you would never think #but she was out of control #(also those other Ace guys would have just charged me what the estimate was #they would not have adjusted the final total according to the actual reality)

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cess-is-here · 1 year

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Stars Around My Scars

“Time is everything we have and don’t.”

My life amid this unprecedented pandemic is more like a roller coaster ride than anything else imaginable. Everything from elation to terror to shock to a host of other life-altering experiences. I would not alter any of these occurrences if given the opportunity to do so. If any of those things hadn't happened, I wouldn't be who I am now.

In all candor, I was rather pleased when the lockdown finally began. My academic year had ended early, classes were canceled, and the sun was beaming. I felt good and confident that I would be happy. Really, remaining at home can't be that challenging, can it? Imagine being able to skip chores and lie in bed all day. Given that we own a sari-sari store, I would probably spend most of my vacation there if the lockdown hadn’t happened. Obviously, then, I benefited from the advent of the pandemic. Nothing was done but lie in bed for the entirety of those days. I was thumbing through my phone, checking out various social media apps, and taking in an entire season of shows on Netflix. Just generally wasting time. After some time had passed, the reality of the situation started to sink in.

In those moments, I could only think of how wonderful life was without the burdens of home and classroom obligations. Looking back now, I see how self-absorbed and egocentric I was. It's like the world is ending, people are dying, many are losing their loved ones, and yet there I was, rejoicing in the fact that a pandemic has occurred. I didn't understand how mundane being at home would be until we started having issues as a family. The expected family drama has finally begun. In most cases, I think families have grown closer together during lockdowns. Since everyone is stuck at home, it's a great chance to spend quality time together as a family. But that is not the case with my family.

“The longer I stay at home, the more homeless I look.”

My lowest point in life. All the trauma, all the anxiety—I didn't even realize I was feeling them at the time. The connection that I had with my family began to show signs of strain. To this day, I have no idea what the root of the problem was that led to my alienation from them. But I suppose that one of the reasons was that we were not accustomed to being at home with the whole family at the same time for an extended period of time. Before the epidemic, my family and I didn't get to spend much time together because we were all so preoccupied with our individual lives. Therefore, it is really awkward for us to spend time together at home. At least, that's how I felt about it.

I found myself in several disagreements with both my parents and my siblings. It wasn't until then that I realized how little I actually know about my family, and the same goes for them for me. There are a great number of things that set us apart, and you should know that I am not the sort to just give in and back down. I have a theory that one of the reasons we get into disputes a lot is because neither one of us wants to acknowledge our own shortcomings. This was the mere similarity that we all have.

It even came to the point where one of my family members almost ran away from home. After that it was very hard to interact with that person. He was always in such a bad mood and what’s worse was it came to the point where he physically hurt me. I can still vividly recall the searing sensation that spread across my face where his hands had landed, as well as the buzzing sound that emanated from both of my ears. It seemed as if time had stopped moving, and all of a sudden he was so far apart from me. I believe that it was a depiction of how that one act had resulted in the severing of all of my ties with him.

Since that happened, I’ve been plagued by anxiety. My entire body would start trembling so badly whenever there would be loud noises or voices of people shouting with one another. Suddenly, it would be difficult to breathe, and going outside wouldn't be much of an option because of the lockdown. Being that my family isn't exactly the most open bunch, I had no choice but to keep everything to myself. Not until I figured out how to cope with my anxieties, anyway.

“Healing is not linear.”

There's a common belief that if someone in your family has wronged you in any manner, you must forgive them no matter what. “Pamilya mo pa ‘rin naman sila,” as the old Filipino proverb goes. It drives me crazy when people say things like this to me because it just doesn't make any sense. I stand my ground, and I have some good reasons why that adage is bunk. One thing to remember is that just because they are related to you does not absolve them of responsibility if they cause you emotional distress. Second, your mental and emotional health will suffer if you continue to be with toxic people. Finally, getting out of an abusive relationship is the only way to recover from it. These are the primary reasons why our family members do not have an excuse to dump their traumatic experiences on us. There are still a lot of other reasons why this is the case, but these are the most important ones.

I am not, however, advocating that people harbor resentment or refuse to forgive members of their own families. Despite having made peace with the past, one lesson I took away from this is that you may forgive someone without forgetting what they did. I'm to the point where I can have a regular conversation with that person, but there are still moments when it all comes crashing back in. That's fine, by the way. Healing is not linear.

Everyone has the option of forgiving, but forgetting might be challenging. To heal, it's fine to take things slowly and focus on one thing at a time. It's ultimately up to you to decide if you want to forgive, and if you don't, it doesn't make you a horrible person. Forgiving someone who has wronged you against your will isn't always the best way to heal from the hurt you've suffered.

After the horrible experience that I went through, I was never the same person again. Despite the fact that it had a positive and negative impact on me, I believe that such things are an inevitable part of life. Everything we've been through up to this point has contributed to making us who we are. Therefore, we shouldn't just stop there but should instead continue to shape ourselves in various ways. Let us not let our suffering be the defining factor of our entire lives, but rather let us use it as the impetus to get better. Sometimes we slip backwards in our recovery, and that's okay; relapses are a natural part of the process, and in no way undermines the progress that we have already made.

“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”

#CNFOutputs #KabataanEssay #StarsAroundMyScars

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themightyviking · 1 year

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Dateline: 1987-ish

Location: undisclosed submerged area of operations, North Atlantic. …ish

You can mess with a lot of things in a submariner’s life, and he will simply gripe about it and move along. Extend a run by two weeks. We already expected it. Commence field day? Already have a cleaning spot picked out, a plan for a nap. Want to send me up topside in a blizzard? Set fire to the galley? Fry electronics by taking a wave over the sail on the surface? Clog the sanitary systems? Poison the air requiring all hands use emergency air breathing masks plugged into a plumbed network of air lines? That’s what they pay us for. Bring it on.

But there’s some things they don’t pay enough for. High up on that list is bad or no movies.

This is how the rules read: If you don’t have a genuine emergency, mission, or better idea (read: liberty port) don’t mess with movie night. Do not break the machine. Do not break the film (or tape). Do not turn the mess decks lights on in the middle of the movie.

And above all, do not mess with the movie storage locker or contents. There’d better be a full loadout, functionally watchable, and preferably entertaining.

Now of course, there is a wicked little paradox here: the only thing worse you can do to a submariner than mess with movie night is to make the rule that you can’t mess with movie night.

See, here’s the thing: behind the swagger, lack of decorum, and general sacrilege that oozes from each submariner, and freely flows when there’s a crew of them, their general disregard and heathenish ways only seem faithless to others. The submariner’s creed, “we are the crew, we are the ship” completely excludes reverence for the silly decorum of others. That irreverence isn’t a byproduct. It is a critically functional facet of a mindset formed in an environment unimaginable to most people. “Nothing is sacred” is a sacred codex.

And so the deadly game of survival underwater inevitably requires shenanigans, just to get the irreverence flowing and all warmed up…

The run to our undisclosed location was slow. The operation was mind-numbingly boring to 90% of the crew. And so, the movies began once shakedown, drills, field day, and all the stuff we do getting settled into a deployment is under control.

I remember the exact moment this transition took place. I was basking in the downtime of taking my turn as aux operator in Sonar. We rotated in on the main sonar stack (listening post) periodically, then out to take a little while to rest the eyes and ears. The aux operator was the spare man, the guy free to move about the cabin. The one guy available to fetch coffee while he’s out of the shack. And in this capacity, I had just exited the shack headed toward the ladder down toward the mess decks. The predictable but loud thrum of the inside of the submarine was suddenly punctuated by a peculiarly angry voice.

“The Care Bears Movie?!”

Now at this point I want to acknowledge and guide the two types of people still reading this far: the first type will assume I have reported what was actually said, and that was that.

Why, bless your little ol’ hearts.

The second group will understand, to varying degrees based on experience, that more was said, that it was vulgar, and therefore either needlessly confusing to the uninitiated or fully implied and understood to those who are wise in the ways of sailors.

I’m not saying the feelings being emoted were unholy. I’m just saying I suspect the ensuing Cosmic Blush caused the 400-cycle bus to dip a few hertz in shame, heaving an acoustically-detectable electronic sigh into the Deep.

See, before every deployment, some young buck gets awarded the privilege of anonymously accompanying the Supply Officer to Squadron, where he could help choose the movies we’d take to sea. What was chosen was chosen, there was no arguing the titles once the hatch closed and we submerged into the Darkness of the Big Bathtub. By some sort of cosmic law probably related to penance for our vocabulary, it was understood to be also forbidden to just “not watch” a movie taken onboard for deployment. If one movie were to get watched, they all had to get watched ( you see how that “one crew-one screw theme keeps coming back?).

The outcry I heard was not one of disgust from a qualified Submariner, but one of qualified horror.

Sure enough, our mystery sailor had put the Care Bear Movie into the box with the others. Now, please don’t try to wrap your head around why Squadron had stocked Care Bears in their library. I’m 35 years deep into this bizarre case, and still got nuthin’. It was just there, alright?

And of course, that meant it HAD to be watched.

This couldn’t have happened even two years previous. Up till then, we used the old 16mm film projectors. In the Eighties, this meant a harsh demarcation of available movie titles. On film, we got older movies, lots of B-grade material. On the new VHS Format, suddenly Care Bears was possible.

And now, by virtue of its malevolent presence, required.

Dear friend, we had a term for something tested to extremes, that came from the mechanical type rates. We would say we “Hydro’d” a thing to indicate it had endured extreme testing conditions. In the spirit of what can only be described as rhapsodic resignation, we embraced this Care Bears. It was screened at least twice a day for two weeks.

In recounting this tale, it is at this moment that I suddenly hesitate to bring you, dear reader, further into the ebullient cesspool of Submarine humour. But I can’t leave you hanging either, now can I. I’m just saying Let it now be known that you have been warned.

Our uniform at sea is referred to as a “poopy-suit. A one-piece easy-in, easy-out garment with a single zipper from neck to the netherworld built especially to enable a sailor to quickly go from sleeping to fighting for survival, unhampered by the one thing he never had to begin with, modesty issues. It is equally conducive to the semi-conscious divestiture by an exhausted sailor who has spent the last 3 days in arduous testing, or nail-biting suspense. The last thing a bone-weary sailor needs is complicated clothing.

By the Official Manual of Uniform Regulations, beneath the poopy suit was to be worn a white tshirt and underwear. By the Eighties, the tshirt was often a printed shirt, a personal and as vulgar a message as the times allowed. Of course, no one knew whether you had a plain white tshirt or not unless you zipped down the poopy suit a bit.

As the hydro-testing of the Care Bears exuberantly continued, there came a point when things suddenly went from darkly hilarious to diabolically collaborative. And it all started with Pink Floyd.

As many qualified, off-duty submariners as could were lounging Conspiratorially on the mess decks for screening #45 of “A Care Bear Movie”, when someone up front suddenly had an epiphany. As behind him Care bears were glowing a rainbow beam at some evil-doer meany-doo-doo-head, he seductively unzipped his poopy suit in front of us down to his navel. He stretched it aside to reveal his Pink Floyd “Dark Side of the Moon” prism tshirt. It was perfect. How perfect? Well I’ll tell you. In two watches, a matter of 12 hours, we went from a boat-full of submariners obsessed with Care Bears to actually believing we WERE Care Bears.

We all had different names and powers though. In addition to “dark side of the moon” beam, there was AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell”, Rolling Stone’s giant Tongue, Cuervo Gold, Jack Daniels, Triumph motorcycle on a highway way… you get the idea. Things with a hint of being worthy of becoming a “Stare” came out from the woodwork. These became our mythical superpowers. We would unzip and expose our tummies at hilariously awkward conversational moments. Passing each other in the passageways, which required the two parties turn sideways and slide past, became fodder for coy, often lewd insinuations based on our particular hidden “Stare”. It evolved into a friendly challenge - woe be to you if you were caught in a challenge with a plain white tshirt. Well, until one guy turned it into “Blinded by the Light”. That was a stroke of genius right there.

But as childishly silly as most of it was, there were other moments. One torpedo man had a flag shirt - just a simple one mind you, nothing garish. We would kazoo-choir our way through a shortened rendition of the star-spangled banner, suddenly a little awkward and maybe a little moved at the displayed patriotism. An ET had a print of John Holland, an iconic image of the inventor and founder of modern submarines. His “stare” was generally met with a respectful grunt of acknowledgment, as if his opponent was grudgingly acknowledging having been trumped.

Mine, or at least my favorite of what I had available that run, was a “Keep on Truckin’”shirt. Whenever space allowed, I’d always strike the pose, yaknow, one foot impossibly extended forward creating the illusion of a giant step being taken. That was my Stare, and it was used to convey reaching a little further than you thought you could. I didn’t mean it to be entirely serious, but the element of genuine encouragement stood fast. By the time we stationed the inbound maneuvering watch, I had it perfected.

And so it came to be on a cool September morning as we were bumped and nudged and coddled up towards the pier by the tug, all the aft line-handlers, yours truly included, greeted and encouraged our pier-side counterparts with our new communication skills, successively beaming them our particular “Stare”. I even struck my most dramatic “Keep on Truckin’ pose yet, what with not being inside the boat and all, but yaknow, they just weren’t pickin’ up what we were layin’ down.

We finally gave up, to attend to that which stood between us and getting off the boat and off to our families or, well, wherever the boat wasn’t. We reminded ourselves a little, but not terribly too late, that when in the sunshine, we had to at least try to act like the other sun-walkers. We ahemed and coughed our way back in juvenile seriosity to a modicum of decorum just in time for the colors to shift from the bridge to the aft deck where we stood, as the final act of transitioning from underway to officially in-port.

As we all snapped to salute the colors, wouldn’t you know it, there stood our torpedo man, giving his surreptitious stare with one hand exposing his Care-Bear Stare chest flag, eyes locked straight into the eyes of the Ship’s stars and stripes. It was in that beautiful moment that I realized that the warped, defiant, oppositional and sometimes arrogant mind of a US Submariner is a National Treasure, capable of Care-Bear Staring down the Enemy and the Sea he tries to hide in, armed with nothing but a tshirt and a poopy-suit to load it into for launching.

You cannot win against this.

Happy Veterans Day, ya cocky bastards.

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hellotherekenobi · 2 years

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─── GUILT pt.ii

Summary: confronted by conflicting emotions, you left Obi-Wan’s training for a new master. Years later, a newly assigned mission brings you back to him.

CW: fem!reader for continuity reasons. You and Obi-Wan are older in this fic, as opposed to the previous part.

PART ONE. 4,118 Words.

Days felt longer than what they used to for Obi-Wan. He’s more aware of the ache in his back when he finally has a moment to rest, or the strain in his legs when he eventually stops chasing after someone on a mission. His eyes feel heavy as soon as he wakes up. Times were changing and so was he, but he’ll never get over the change of no longer seeing your face to brighten his mornings.

It has been a few years now since you left—hell, what was it, five? Obi-Wan eventually stopped counting. It hurt too much when it became apparent to him that you weren’t ever coming back. After all, it was your decision to leave in the first place, and wouldn’t it be the right thing for him to accept that and move on? Sometimes, he worries, the right thing isn’t always the best. At least, not for him, not like this.

There were a few reports of you here and there around the Jedi temple—nothing specific enough for Obi-Wan to find out where you were, or really much about your new life at all, just mentions of your name or even the occasional ‘she looked so familiar’ comment from those come back from faraway missions. He had been on the brink of sending holos more than once, just to talk to you. After all, conversation wasn’t forbidden, was it? Yet, he always stopped himself before he could. If you hadn’t reached out to him then maybe you didn’t want to talk. He respects that much.

Taking on an extended mission is just what he needs right now, which is why he was so eager to accept it from the Council. Spending time away from the Jedi temple will do him some good, he regrets to acknowledge. It’s been too long since he’s slept out in the open, or spent more than one day on another planet. Though he knows the sleep will probably do wonders to his back, he’s not going to let that ruin his chance of having a semi-break.

Obi-Wan feels delight when he breathes in the planet’s air, relishing in a new smell that differs from what he’s used to. The sun is shining, the sky is a rich blue, and he’s seen some of the most exotic animals he’s ever laid his eyes on. Not to mention the children who were playing tag out in the courtyard, who stopped to wave at him and give him a serotonin boost. Yes, this was lovely. This is just what he needs. Spending time surrounded by foreign walls, eating fantastical foods, and, most importantly, distracting his mind from—

You.

“Kriff,” the word slips past Obi-Wan’s lips before he can even register any sense to it, unfortunately loud enough that the person standing across from him hears and goes a little wide-eyed.

“That’s not what I was expecting,” it’s a short laugh, any offense seemingly evaporating in the air from the sound of your voice.

Five years since he’s seen your face, or heard you speak, or, Maker above, heard your laugh. Then here you are, right in front of him, and he’s already made such a fool of himself.

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, dropping his carry bag on the floor without much elegance at all, extending a hand to you.

You smile brightly at him, shaking his hand. “You never said such words around me when I was your padawan.”

Did you have to bring that up? Obi-Wan’s going to dissolve straight through the floor, leaving an embarrassing pile of his Jedi robe and boots. If, of course, that were at all possible. He has a feeling he’ll be an old man when that time comes.

“You look so—” different is what he wants to say, but even just that carries too much weight on his tongue. “Well, you’re very... er, you’re blossoming.”

“Blossoming?” your voice turns the description back at him like a lightsaber straight to the chest.

Big mistake, his mind yells at him. “No, uh, that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

Think of a word! “Smart.”

Your brows furrow just a fraction, with an awkward smile on your face. He wants to disappear. “I suppose I need to look the part, being a Jedi master and all.”

No amount of awkward stumbling through words could amount to that kind of startling news. “You’re a Jedi master?”

“Yes, almost two years now.”

Why hadn’t he known? Of course, the Council doesn’t always announce when a Jedi is promoted to the rank of master, but in some kind of fragile, respectful way he thought he would have been told about this. After all, he was your master once upon a time.

“That’s... great news.”

You smile more comfortably this time, taking in a deep breath and shrugging your shoulders. “It’s an honor.”

There you are, he thinks. There’s the young spirit he remembers so well. Determined in a fight, but still so blasé about the long-term effects of the Code.

“So,” he clears his throat, feeling like the neck of his robes are far too tight to breathe in. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, didn’t they tell you?” the question has him shaking his head, unsure of what you mean. “I’m working alongside you on the mission.”

No. Maker, no. He took this mission to get away from you, or at least whatever remained of you in his mind. His heart, too. Now you’re going to be spending every day together? What kind of sick joke has the galaxy thrown at him this time? Yes, he’s missed you terribly, but he was just starting his course to recovery. This isn’t helping at all, especially since you haven’t really seemed that excited to see him again after all these years. You’re just, well, professional about it all.

In all honestly, he should be the same. Take away the years the two of you have spent together, all of the training, the tenderness, the somewhat confession before you left, and there would only be a master and his padawan, nothing more. You’re acting like that’s all there’s ever been, but he can’t blame you for that. You’re both Jedi, after all.

Still, you’re polite and offer to carry his bag for him inside, but he’s polite in return, more so for the sake of his embarrassment, and carries it himself. There’s no bag by your side so he assumes you’ve been here for a while, especially since you lead him throughout the building like it was your own. You show him the room he’ll be staying in, and if spending every day together wasn’t horrible enough then it’s definitely the cherry on top when he realizes that your room connects with his, only separated by a retractable barrier.

“The washroom is behind this door,” you say, opening said door to show him the inside, and it kills him even more since that’s another area the two of you are sharing.

After that, conversation is merely statistical and informative to get Obi-Wan up to speed on what you already know and what will come of the mission in the long run. Pleasantries are faraway now, locked behind the door. This isn’t conversation with an old friend, this is simply one Jedi master talking to another for the sake of the mission. It burns Obi-Wan a bit at knowing that whatever the two of you had was long gone, back at the hangar bay the day you left him. You’re still lost to him, he reminds himself. He might never get you back.

The day does happen to go by quickly, filled mostly with you showing him around and introducing him to the people here. Dinner is to be served like clockwork every evening, no later. Apparently, too, the owners of the building aren’t too lenient toward late night strolls or pleasure walks. It brings a whole new meaning to the term ‘lights out.’ So, in summary, follow the rules and everything will go swimmingly. Take you out of the equation and Obi-Wan has always been a stickler to the rules, so he believes this mission will progress rather well—just as long as he keeps his focus on it.

When he settles himself into bed that night, he finds that focus is all but out the window when you’re only on the other side of that flimsy barrier, and, Maker above, did your light really have to cast a shadow of you while you get undressed? His eyes are planted on the wall in front of him, knuckles white as he clutches the bedsheets to stop himself from glancing off to the side, more so out of respect for you. There was only about four feet separating the space between Obi-Wan’s bed and yours, of course with the barrier in the middle. To sleep so close to you, especially like this... it was going to be a long night.

“The light isn’t bothering you, is it?” comes your voice from the other side, tugging Obi-Wan back into his body.

“No, the light is fine.” he says, though he wants to add but your shadow was playing tricks with my mind just now.

“Good,” he hears you shuffle against the sheets. “Sleep well, Obi-Wan.”

He swallows the lump in his throat by the mention of his name, something he hasn’t heard you speak since the day that tore him apart. “And you,” he manages, but just barely.

He’s delighted to know that when he closes his eyes, he doesn’t picture your face. It’s the last thing he needs; to dream of you and have the ache of it hovering over him in the morning. What does pain him just a bit, though, is when he wakes up from the sound of birds chirping and notices the barrier has been pulled open and your bed is empty. Five years ago, you’d happily wait for him in anything. Now, you’re gone before he’s even properly awake.

Obi-Wan finds you in the courtyard after he’s washed and dressed, where you’re talking to the children he had seen yesterday upon arrival. They all seem entranced by whatever you’re telling them, and he feels that rock-like weight in his chest at the sight of it—something he has to shake from him to avoid stirring up any forbidden emotions.

“Master Kenobi, is it true?” a tiny voice asks, and Obi-Wan spins on his heel to see all the children beaming at him.

Clearly, he has no idea what the child is asking him and you’re aware of that by the way you’re suppressing the chuckle in your throat with a hand pressed to your mouth. You regain your composure moments later, smiling at him.

“I fear I told the children about our missions together,” Caraya’s soul, did your voice have to sound so sunkissed this early in the morning? “They’re curious about our encounter with the Sith Lord.”

“Ah,” he nods, showing a brief smile to the children, on the precipice of asking which one? but one of the children talk over him, anyhow.

“Yes!” his little voice chirps. “And she saved you, didn’t she? From the falling roof!”

Obi-Wan can’t help the smile twitching at the edge of his lips. The child means the mission where you had saved him from the structure the Sith Lord had manipulated to crumble on top of him, swooping in just in time to get to him. That was also the last mission he ever shared with you. That is, until now. Not to mention that mission was the very thing that made you choose to be trained under a different master and leave him for what seemed like forever. Turns out, forever has an expiration date.

With the children’s eyes still on him, Obi-Wan approaches them and then lowers himself on one knee to meet their height. “Yes,” he emphasizes, and they call coo in delight. “She’s one of the best Jedi I’ve had the privilege of fighting beside, and an excellent master, too.”

He needn’t turn to notice the way your Force signature bundles around you for a moment, as if you were bringing a blanket up to hide yourself from his compliment. He means every word of it and still holds true to the conviction that saving his life that day was far greater an act than following the rules. He knows you can see it in his smile that he flashes your way, finally turning to see how you’re already smiling at him; the corners of your mouth upturning an inch more from the eye-contact.

Even if it’s just in this moment, Obi-Wan feels content in seeing you smile at him now as if there weren’t tension separating you two, as if nothing bad had ever happened. The years were nonexistent for now, even though he knows it’ll hit him again come nightfall.

Unfortunately, it does. The day had gone as fast as the previous one, and Obi-Wan had delayed in entering the shared bedroom until he knew you were already in bed. Though Obi-Wan tries to fall asleep, he can’t seem to turn his thoughts off. His mind is racing with a million questions, some of which he already knows the answer to, so instead they become agitated on what ifs and motives. Instead of a dream to tease him, he’s plagued by the memory of the kiss you pressed against his cheek when you had said goodbye.

It stirs him enough to rustle out of the sheets, remembering to quieten his footsteps as he swings his cloak over his shoulders and escapes into the hallway. Fortunately there was no one around, so he lets out a breath from the comfort of not being seen, since walking around during the night was something he was told not to do here. He needs any moment of fresh air he can get, though, so in this instance, coincidentally enough in reference to you once again, he’s allowing himself to break the rules.

Then he feels the presence of someone behind him before he hears their footsteps, and he’s caught between the decision of turning around in apology or running around the corner to escape them before it’s too late to even choose, as their hand takes hold of his shoulder and he’s spinning around to see you standing there.

“Obi-Wan,” your voice is whispered and tired, but careful not to startle him too much. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be walking around this late.”

“I...” he tries to come up with an excuse, but he’s too exhausted to even try. “I just needed some air.”

You nod at him, looking around when the two of you hear murmured voices on the other side of the hallway.

“Follow me,” you take his hand, quickly turning the corner to hurry up the stairs.

You lead him onto a balcony of sorts, somewhere only fit for about four people, so he needn’t worry about anyone hiding in the shadows. Really, his only worry is if you’re both spotted up here. That, of course, and what he might say in his tired state, especially in a moonlit setting such as this.

“Couldn’t you sleep?” asks your voice, where you stand by the railing, leaning one elbow on it.

He stands there in silence for a moment, not sure on how to answer your question. There’s a fear in his chest that even after years apart, you can still tell when he’s lying about something. He’s always been able to read you in the same way, after all. Yet, the nod of your head to usher him nearer to you is welcome enough, and he lets out a sigh when his hands find the railing to give him some support.

“I hardly sleep anymore,” he admits, shaking his head. “I’m getting old.”

“No, you’re not.” you smile at him.

“Yes, I really am.”

“Don’t say that,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, turning to look out at the scenery. “Because that means I’m getting old too.”

Obi-Wan decides to take the opportunity before it can wander into the night. “Well, five years does that to a person. You’re definitely taller.”

You chuckle at that, but Obi-Wan feels the mood shift. He knew it would. In a selfish way, he wanted it to. Five years. Maker, he can say it over and over again and it still seems far too long. He would be lying to himself if he said he doesn’t feel bitter over it.

“People change all the time, Obi-Wan. That’s how it works.” still, your gaze is pointed forward. “Even you.”

He wishes it weren’t the case. “But not too much, though?”

You shake your head, finally turning toward him. Your hand reaches out for his cheek, and he swears the flutter in his chest is painful. “Your beard is fuller,” your fingers trace his jaw, then gently travel upward. “I can see the creases near your eyes when you’re not smiling.”

“And let me guess,” he whispers, his own hand finding yours on his cheek, fingers tracing the skin. “My hair is turning grey.”

The smile on your lips is contagious, and he hears it in your voice. “I don’t mind the grey.”

Silence overhangs you both again, instead it’s more welcomed this time. He could stay in this moment forever if that meant that you would be by his side, holding onto him. He’s never let you go, not really. Yes, he took this mission to try and move on, but deep down he knew he’d never do that, not completely. You’re seared onto his heart. Always will be.

Your hand slips away from him, like the intention of leaving it there would be inappropriate enough. Leaning back on the railing, this time with your forearms, you keep your gaze on the moon. “You know, I never really took a liking to my other master.”

It should pain him to hear you talk about it, but instead all it does is have him grinning like a Cheshire cat. “No?”

“I didn’t like his method of teaching very much,” you say, shaking your head. “He would roll his eyes whenever I put my foot down; but Obi-Wan wouldn’t do that. Maker, I swear he hated me.”

“No,” he chuckles, leaning on the railing beside you. “No one could hate you, especially not a Jedi master.”

“So you don’t?”

The question startles him a bit, almost about toppling him over the balcony. “Why would I ever?”

Your shoulders shrug, and you continue to keep your gaze away from him. “After what I did, it’d make any person hateful.”

“Well, I’m not any person,” he says with a voice stern and solid. “I felt a lot of things, but hatred has never been one of them.”

“What other things?” you turn to him now, watching him carefully.

He’s caught off-guard again, completely speechless at your prodding that he wasn’t ready for. Would it really be wise to tell you the truth, especially after how things were left between you two? This isn’t exactly what he pictured when he thought about telling you how he feels. No, he had pictured you both free from the Order, living much different lives, not sharing sentiments on a mission.

You’re nowhere near finished, it seems, as you put another question to him. “Felt?”

He swallows thickly, adverting his gaze to anything else—the bushes on the ground below, the trees out in the distance, but not the moon, please, it’s like a spotlight on him now. “Perhaps it’s time we go to sleep.”

He’s frantic on getting away from this, so he spins on his heel and begins to make his way to the staircase, but he forgets how much of a fighter you are, and how much more you’ve become after everything.

“You’re running away,” you call out to him.

He stops a few steps from the staircase, yet he doesn’t turn around. “I’m tired,”

“You’re running,” you tell him again. “I know because I ran when you met me at the hangar bay, remember?”

Of course he does. All his mind ever shows him is that moment, mockingly kept on repeat.

“What will happen this time?” you continue. “Will I kiss your cheek when this mission is over and see you in another five years? I don’t want that, Obi-Wan.”

He turns to face you. “Then what do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

No, he doesn’t. He can’t. What was there for him to decipher—mixed signals, mistakes, deliberate touches? He never honestly opened up to you that day, neither did you. The two of you danced around the reason and then that ship took you away from him. Where was the calls to make up for it? The holos he wanted to send you, and the ones he never received?

“I can’t do this again,” he admits, feeling himself loosening at the seams.

“Talk to me,” you reach him within a couple of steps, placing your hand back on his cheek. “Obi-Wan, please.”

His bones are shaking inside of him, threatening to show on the surface through goosebumps on his skin. He’s falling apart inside and he swears he’s seconds away from showing it.

“A part of me died that day,” he murmurs, wanting to look away from you and yet at the same time cannot bear to do so. “Please, don’t kill another part of me.”

He’s shaking on the surface now, just enough that he can feel the way you notice it with your fingers against his skin. It’s as if a cold breeze has swept over him alone, leaving you undisturbed. Though, you’re anywhere near that, aren’t you? There’s unspoken words on the edge of your lips, and something powerful trying to restrain itself behind your eyes.

Guilt. That’s what it is.

It’s somber now, the silence. Obi-Wan is not sure what breaks it; the way your expression furrows when you notice the tears welling in his eyes, or the sob that flutters past his lips when he speaks. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Obi-Wan,” you say softly, carefully.

“I’ve missed— I’ve missed you,” he breaks, crumbling into your hand, shattering on the balcony floor. “So much,”

The pieces of him are swept up in your arms that wrap around him, holding him to you in an instant. His fists clutch ahold of the fabric of your clothes, worried of leaving creases in the back but knowing he’s already done far worse with the tears on your shoulder. He’s embarrassed and sad and over it. He can’t hold himself upright around you anymore.

At least, for now, you’re holding him. Your arms are strong around him, grounding him with soothing whispers to build him back up again, even if all the pieces don’t fit, even if there’s cracks showing on his skin. He’s never been the same man, anyway, after you left. He’ll always be one piece missing of a whole because that piece is and will always be you.

“I’m sorry,” your voice finds him through the pain. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You did,” Obi-Wan replies, muffled slightly and still tear-soaked, pulling back a fraction to look at you. “Which is what makes it so hard.”

You nod at him, holding his face with both hands, fingers dancing cautiously through his hair as you cup his cheeks. “You know, Obi-Wan. Surely, you must know why I left for so long.”

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I would have done the same thing.”

Put himself in your boots and he knows he would make the same decision, especially back then. Being a Jedi is the most important thing in his life, so when it comes to you it would only make things more difficult. It already has.

“If things were different,” you start, but Obi-Wan holds your face to stop you from uttering the words.

“I know,” he whispers, taking one selfish action by pulling you toward him to kiss your forehead and leave his lips lingering. “I wish they were.”

“Then wait for me,” you tell him, looking up at him with a hopeful expression. “Will you?”

If the war ends soon, or at all. If the Order falls, or if it becomes no longer needed. If the rules change, or he leaves it behind. Then, if all those things, he will wait. He makes a promise now in his heart that one day will come true.

“I’ve waited for you for five years,” he presses one more kiss to your forehead, then holds you in his arms. “I’ll wait five hundred more.”

A/N: did I get that one conversation from the iconic 2004 movie Thunderbirds? Perhaps. Who’s to say?

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teklarn · 3 years

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hi, this is my first ever ask so I'm not sure I'm doing this correctly, if that's the case I'm sorry; I don't know how tumblr works just yet >:')

would it be possible for you to write something about bakugo, pining incredibly hard for fem!reader and initially hating how strongly he feels about her? because they're not even friends, they only exchange few words occasionally and she doesn't even glance at his way whereas he slowly finds himself unable to divert his eyes from her during classes? shes always with damn deku and his friends and doesn't even seem interested in him at all but his heart can't ignore the way she looks at him proudly whenever they spar together, the way she sends him small confident smiles as they fight each other with all they have; so he thinks that maybe, maybe he might have a chance. basically bakugo liking reader so much he's completely lost in self-hatred because he always thought feelings were for weak romantics and not great people like him, but everytime he sees reader doing some badass things (again, like sparring with him and basically matching his skills etc...) he's reminded of how badly he likes reader? but when he finally accepts he's fallen for reader, after ignoring and trying to forget about how she makes him feel, he masters up the courage to confess? and it's a very clumsy confession because he's awkward and has no idea how to deal with those feelings? and he tries so hard to make reader realise he's never been more serious than now? and reader is startled and speechless before rejecting him? and at that point he's just completely humiliated, so he nods and walks away.

it might be a little dramatic but I've always been into unrequited love and one-sided pining. thank you, its okay if you don't want to write about this, i'll understand <33

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader (my hero academia)

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

a/n: AHHHHH this is so cute <33 honestly this is super exciting for me and this ask made me so happy, lovey. i’m fairly new to tumblr, i’m usually just a reader but i wanted to migrate here from wattpad so this made me so happy. here u are my love <33 i hope this lives up to what u wanted !! :)) a bit lengthy, but i had a lot of fun writing it !!!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you.

genre: fluffy, fluffier than the clouds istg, however the clouds are sprinking a little teeny weeny droplet of angst.

warnings: cursing (bakugou, duhh), one-sided pining (on bakugou’s part) second hand embarrassment (on bakugou’s part bc we can all agree he’s a complete idiot when it comes to trying to get someone’s attention), just bakugou being a jackass, i gave the reader a quirk

word count: 3,859

(pls excuse any typos or mistakes, i edited to the best of my ability but i miss some things sometimes !)

- - -

part 2 is here my loves <3

brutal. it was utterly ruthless. he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think right. his hands were already exceptionally sweaty, but gosh when he saw your damn face, he was ready to explode. literally.

what the hell was it about you? was it your stupid smile? or the way you just seemed to carry every battle on your back? was it all the undeniably sweet things you do for others ‘just because’?

it made him angry that he thought about you, but gosh he couldn’t wait to see you every day.

just like any other day, bakugou found himself staring at the large door to the classroom, awaiting the moment you would bounce into his day, skirt shifting around your legs, bag slung loosely around your shoulders.

his leg was bouncing eagerly.

bakugou didn’t know when the feelings came. his cheeks just started flaring up all of a sudden and one day you just looked...different. you hadn’t done anything different to yourself. it was just him. not that he would ever admit that, to you or anybody else.

you were insufferable. you were stupid and obnoxious and so...so damn...

“y/n! come look at this!”

you’d come walking into class just as expected, and as soon as you did, that stupid nerd had called you over.

it didn’t help that deku sat right behind him, either. the two of you had recently gotten closer. bakugou noticed it last month when he yelled at the two of you to shut up about all might and get to work. he’d turned around to find you leaning over deku, hands resting on his shoulders while you peered at his phone.

“sorry, bakugou,” you’d said, barely acknowledging him. you had waved him off like an annoying fly. is that all you were to him? some nuisance that got in the way of your oh-so-entertaining conversations with deku?

all he heard nearly every day was your chipper voice talking to deku. always, “oh my gosh, midoriya, did you see the fight edgeshot was in last night?” or “midoriya! i have something to add to our quirk analysis book!”

that was the one that took the cake. you two dorks shared a notebook, occasionally passed between one another, and filled it with junk about quirks and pro heroes. but no matter how much he tried to tune you out, no matter how he tried to zone off and think about something else, you were always there. it made him want to vomit how much he thought about you.

you were doing an adorable shuffle over to midoriya’s desk and leaned over the table as you usually did while he angled his phone your way. “did you see this hero report?”

deku let you slip the phone out of his grasp to get a better look.

“no,” you breathed. “was this just recent?”

“yeah,” deku said, taking the phone back. “last night.”

“holy—”

“can you guys shut up over there?” bakugou said, his voice quaking.

“sorry, kacchan.” deku scrolled through the article.

dammit, bakugou thought. “i wasn’t talking to you, nerd. i was talking to shitface over here.” he jerked his head towards you. his eyes flared in anger when he saw you were looking down at your phone, now focused in on the article yourself. “i was talking to you, asshat!”

your eyes flicked up to his. you looked around for a moment before slowly pointing to yourself as if to say, “me?”

his face scrunched. “yeah, you. you’re so damn loud.” gosh, he hated how his voice was cracking, how he could feel his ears and cheeks lighting up in a swollen, cherry red. his stomach flipped.

she’s looking at you, gosh i’m sweating. i’m going to throw up. she’s so gorgeous. what the hell? they’re ugly as shit, i don’t think anything of them.

his eyes bore into yours.

“did you...need something?”

your voice broke his trance.

“kacchan, are you okay? you dozed off there for a second. you look like you’re burning up.”

bakugou looked to deku who was currently stretching out of his seat, arm extended. he pressed the back of his hand to bakugou’s forehead. “you’re really warm, kacchan. should we call recovery girl?”

it took him a moment to realize what was happening. his vision got blurry every time he was with you. bakugou smacked deku’s hand away. “i’m fine!” his voice lifted at the end, cracking. “i’m not sick. don’t you think i’d take better care of myself?”

“i don’t doubt you take good care of yourself, kacchan, but everyone gets sick once in a while. there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“i never get sick!” besides, if i got sick, i wouldn’t want you to be the one taking care of me.

he was still pissed. he was always in a bad mood, however, more so right now because you’d gone straight back to your phone and that stupid hero article that was supposedly so damn interesting.

soon enough, the bell rang, and you were seated at your desk. it was jirou’s old spot, however, after much convincing, you two had switched spots so you could be closer to deku. just a few months of getting close to the idiot and you two are suddenly best friends. jirou hadn’t minded one tiny bit, claiming she needed a break from how loud that section of the room was.

late as always, aizawa came trudging into your room. thankfully, his entire body wasn’t obscured by a yellow sleeping bag that smelled of something unwashed and coffee and gasoline. (for some reason, aizawa’s clothes always smelled of it.)

“lucky for you,” he began while shuffling papers on his desk, “all of you are doing training for these first periods.”

the class cheered in perfect unison, followed by their individual chatter. you had erupted with glee along with them, and bakugou was sure he felt his heart clench and then explode. just a tiny bit. but he shoved the feeling down just as quickly as it had come up.

“go out to the field and wait for further instructions. don’t make a sound in the halls otherwise, i’ll expel all of you.”

this shut everyone up in almost a second, the sound draining out just as water does. the first years trailed out into the hall, single-file mimicking the positions baby ducklings would take when following their mother.

bakugou found himself walking faster when he saw you take up your spot in the line, hoping to land his spot right behind you.

unfortunately, this idiot who considered himself bakugou’s friend tugged him back. “bakugou!” a familiar voice rasped.

“shitty hair, let go of me.”

“hey man, chill out. wanna partner up if we’re doing training in pairs?”

bakugou glanced at the line, the spot that should have been reserved for him now taken up by sato.

bakugou tugged his sleeve from kirishima’s hand. “whatever,” he snapped.

“sounds good!” kirishima flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. the bubbly feeling in bakugou’s chest died down as he stood behind sato, the overwhelming scent of sugar filling his nose, various candies that would go straight to your arteries.

“you smell like ass, damn,” bakugou remarked, squeezing his nostrils together.

luckily, sato was tall enough to not hear the insult, as he towered over bakugou by just another head. the line began moving like a sloppy train down to the change rooms.

bakugou scoffed as he listened to your giggle. he should be making you laugh.

“you’ll be given partners randomly from this box.” aizawa held up a familiar red box. “inside are all your names. i’ll select one, then that person will come up and pick another name from the box. that will be your assigned partner for today. as soon as you have your assigned partner, i want you guys to get straight to work.”

denki raised a hand, speaking before being called on. “sensei, why are we getting random partners? we’re always allowed to choose.”

“in the real world, you’re going to come across different villains every day. you’ll never improve your skills or your quirks if you keep fighting the same person.”

denki sighed, slumping back.

dammit, bakugou thought, gritting his teeth together. there wasn’t any way he wanted to be partners with you. it’s obvious he’d win the fight in the first few seconds.

yes! exactly right! bakugou internally grinned. his fluctuating feelings had finally soothed themselves. you were just another extra, and he had no room for you in his head.

aizawa took a moment to fiddle with the slips of paper inside the box. soon enough, he pulled out a name. “todoroki.”

todoroki walked up, digging his hand into the box when aizawa held it out for him. he pulled out a name, delicately unraveling the slip. “uraraka, you’re my partner.” he deadpanned.

the brunette grinned. “great!”

the two found their own spot on the field, and the class’s attention was once again diverted to their grouchy teacher as he pulled out another name.

“bakugou.”

bakugou strutted up without a worry in his mind. he pulled a name to find...

“y/n,” he said, voice a low growl. instead of the annoying fluttering in his chest, his eyes met yours, and they were filled with a different, new ferocity. he crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it twirl to the ground.

you looked at him, unsmiling. your eyes gave away nothing, and to bakugou’s knowledge, all you saw in him was another opponent.

it took him a moment to realize you had both locked eyes for about a minute. perhaps the two of you would have stayed as you were if aizawa hadn’t snapped at the two of you to get moving as yaomomo’s name was called.

bakugou was on his way to the back of the field, you followed close behind. while there was plenty of room still, he chose a secluded area. while it was still open enough to view everything going on so nobody got hurt, it was often nobody chose to train here. for whatever reason, you weren’t sure.

“wait up, bakugou,” you said. after a bit, you caught up to him.

“if you can’t keep up, then...” then what? he looked at you from the side of his eye. “then don’t keep up...” gosh, here came the embarrassing, disgusting feeling of redness in his cheeks.

you laughed. “what?”

“shut up.”

“you’re an idiot, bakugou.”

“i said shut the hell up!”

“what, so you can call me shitface in front of the entire class but you get all pissed when i call you an idiot?”

so you had heard him!

he tongued his cheek, curling his hands around an invisible ball, explosions sparking in the centers of his palms. “don’t expect me to hold back, dumbass.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it.”

gosh he loved that about you.

bakugou caught his thought in the air.

ahem...gosh he hated that about you.

you both charged in at the same time. his cry was louder than yours, but you struck first.

he admired your quirk. while he’d overhead you explaining all the drawbacks it had, it was strong, and you were strong because you knew how to control it.

purple arrows flew from your arms, going in your desired directions. if you lost focus for one moment, they’d vanish and weaken. if you focused too hard or long, you’d be plagued by a splitting headache.

he’d spent too much time obsessing over your strengths and weaknesses.

your arrows were weightless, however they were solid objects capable of carrying any mass, any thing, and worked as extensions of your body.

the violet arrow had shot out at him, twisting around his right gauntlet and crushing inwards. it’d snaked around him without him noticing, slithering along his back.

bakugou struggled to get the air-light arrow off his wrist, but it was no use. he glared back, only to see your focused, furrowed brows. he’d expected to see your cocky ass smiling. it was nice to see you weren’t.

that was one thing that had also caught his eye. you never underestimate your opponent, but you never underestimate yourself, either.

you conjured a larger arrow. it snaked around your right arm as you hurled bakugou into the air, releasing your grasp on him. you shot your other arrow into the air, and it raced into the sky.

it swerved. bakugou’s eyes went wide as the tip of the arrow came down on his chest. if they weren’t intangible things, he would have been bleeding out.

another drawback: the arrows, while they could solidify, they couldn’t do any actual damage. you had to use your surroundings to inflict harm on your opponent.

he coughed out as the arrow shot him into the ground. he hadn’t even touched you, and here he was, vulnerable and so...so...

you stood over him, hands on your hips.

vulnerable and so lost in that adorable, winning smile.

“get away from me, idiot,” he grunted and turned onto his side, his back crying out in pain.

“i think i won this fight, bakugou,” you chirped, rocking on your heels.

“don’t get arrogant, shithead. you won’t be winning against me anymore.”

you grinned, arrows shooting out behind your back.

the dorms were exceptionally quiet. you were typing away in the common room, bakugou on the couch reading. everyone was off doing something else. it was the weekend, luckily. he’d expected you to go bounding out with everyone else, however you’d stayed back, claiming you had some homework to catch up on.

bakugou being classic bakugou had stayed back. he was excited to have the dorm to himself, but your dumbass was stuck here with him. couldn’t you have done your typing in your room?

you were so aggressive on that poor keyboard.

“oi, quiet down with your shit typing.”

you barely grunted in response.

“don’t ignore me.”

“i heard you, mom.”

“the hell did you call me?”

no response. only your aggressive typing is a bit less aggressive.

“i can still hear it,” bakugou remarked, eyes fixed on your back.

“‘kay,” you said. your typing slowed a tad, and your pressure on the keys lessened.

it was quiet now. bakugou should go back to his book. he shouldn’t still be looking for a reason to talk to you.

the pages crinkled in his fingers. he bit his tongue, keeping his snarky comments in.

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? doing your damn homework. it’s due tomorrow.”

you turned, pursing your lips. “and how would you know what i’m working on? are you stalking me?”

“i- what? no. you’re such an idiot, of course i’m not—”

“i’m messing with you,” you breathed, face un-moving.

“o-oh,” bakugou stuttered out. he blinked awkwardly.

“gosh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

“you’re annoying.”

“you’re a jackass.” you returned to your work. bakugou settled with reading in his room. reading consisted of jumping onto his bed just as the stereotypical high school girl would in an eighties movie. he buried his face in his pillow, face burning bright red. he cursed you for making him feel this way, and hated himself even more for how much he enjoyed it.

the next day came swiftly. you’d left early to go train with midoriya. there were many improvements needed to be made, but you weren’t doing too bad.

you propelled yourself forwards with an arrow, and your green-haired friend shot back, lightning flickering around his body.

landing back on the ground, you panted and swiped the sweat from your brow. from the corner of your eye, you could make out both kirishima and bakugou coming to the training grounds.

bakugou stopped in his tracks, frowning at the sight of you.

it was evident he hated you a bit more than everyone else. he was always making his annoying comments, he was always snubbing you. you saw no reason to talk to him, so you didn’t. either way, even if you tried, he would still get angry for no reason.

it’d taken you quite some time to get used to his obnoxious attitude. tuning him out had been the best course of action, in your opinion.

the way you and midoriya had bonded was through bakugou, in a way. the first day of school, bakugou had snapped at you for tripping over your laces and nearly crashing into him. later that day, midoriya had stepped up and apologized for his old friend’s actions.

you two had never been too close until now. the recent incidents going on with the league of villains had snagged your attention, and it seemed you were the only person who didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about heroes.

you were just as passionate and just as dorky, but midoriya could talk your ear off. you never minded, and he always took the hint when you didn’t want to listen.

you brought your leg up, twirling in the air with ease and watched your heel collide with midoriya’s face. he grunted, stumbling back.

you were about to charge in again when a hand landed on your shoulder, big and rough. you turned to see bakugou standing behind you, a scowl on his face.

“fight me again,” he demanded.

“excuse me?”

“don’t act like you didn’t hear me.”

“i’m in the middle of fighting midoriya right now.”

“so?”

“so if you think that i’m just going to ditch my friend because you want to fight, i won’t.”

“you’re being stubborn.”

“i’m being reasonable. back off.”

“y/n?” midoriya rubbed his jaw—right where you had struck him. “what’s going on?” he jogged up to you and bakugou.

“he wants to fight me in the middle of our fight. it’s nothing serious. don’t worry about it, midoriya. let’s just ignore him.”

bakugou made a sound someone would only make if they were choking. “the hell did you just say?”

“we’re ignoring you!” you waved him off and placed your hand on midoriya’s shoulder, wandering away.

it was new to him, not getting what he wanted. and what he wanted right now was to be around you. again, it wasn’t like he would ever admit that to himself.

“dude? you good? i thought you went off to fight y/n. i was so ready to cheer you on, dude,” kirishima’s chipper voice piped in. “she’s not fighting with you? why not?”

“the dumbass was just probably scared of getting her ass beat by me.”

“dude...that sounds really weird.”

“whatever, shitty hair. let’s go.”

the clock ticked. his ears were on fire. again.

gosh, it was happening again. it was all you. his face scrunched up, his voice would surely crack if someone were to ask him what was wrong.

bakugou was once again stuffing his face in his pillow, hiding his expression from no one. why did you have to go train with that shitty nerd? why were you always around deku? deku, of all people. what did he have? why was he so great?

bakugou was a man of many insecurities, but losing to deku? that was possibly his biggest fear.

perhaps he wasn’t the nicest, or the most soft person out there. bakugou could admit that, at least. but he was smarter than deku. he was stronger and he was better and people liked him more. right?

what was so...amazing about deku?

it was often bakugou would find himself obsessing over little, insignificant things such as these.

you were what he was thinking of most of the time. just yesterday, he’d gotten a test returned. he was expecting an eighty at the lowest, but more so expecting a high ninety. it’d come back exactly sixty percent.

sixty. percent.

bakugou vividly remembered staring at your face. he also remembered not being able to focus because of it. his grades were dropping because of you.

you were the only person to be able to do this to him.

his heart grew quiet, but the pounding of his didn’t cease. he lifted his head.

“alright, fine,” he said aloud. “you win, y/n. you win.”

he settled with getting over his feelings the way he’d read them in his collection of romance manga.

bakugou left his room and knocked on your door. (he was banging on it, but it was his nice way of knocking.)

you answered, looking around awkwardly. “yes?”

his hands shook. how was this supposed to go? sure, he’d seen it in romance movies and read it in books but it was always easy to tell whether the guy would get the girl or not.

in this instance, bakugou was clueless. for once in his life, he was clueless. you stood, tapping your foot with a hand on your hip, waiting expectantly for him to tell you why he was here.

“um.” he scratched behind his neck. “you uh- i uh...i’m sorry i called you a, um...a shitface.”

“okay? is that it?”

what? come on! it was already unlike him to apologize. what else did you want from him?

“did you...i’ve been thinking, maybe? maybe we could..train together as...friends?”

“...what?”

gosh dammit, as friends?

“whatever, um...the uh...” oh gosh, what did the boys do in all the books he’d read? right! bakugou stretched out his arm, resting his forearm on the door, leaning to the side.

although he didn’t, really, because like the clumsy jackass he was, bakugou missed completely and nearly toppled to the floor.

this earned a snicker from you.

his stomach flipped and churned, and bakugou found himself unable to reach your eyes. “uh, would you maybe..? okay, um. do you want to go on a date with me? you absolute fucking dumbass.”

your eyes flew wide. “...what?”

“no, that’s not what i— i mean i didn’t mean the last part. um, i meant the first part. the first two parts. the part where i was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me and then before that when i said maybe because it’s still a maybe until you say yes. or...or no because that’s an option too.”

he swallowed.

you resisted the urge to mock him, just a little bit. “um, bakugou, listen.”

he leaned closer. “yes?”

“it’s going to be a no. i’m sorry, but i’m just not interested in you like that.”

it took him a moment to register everything. his shoulders sagged. gosh that was brutal.

“oh, alright.”

“yeah, uh, sorry about that.” you offered him a weak smile, still a bit shocked yourself. he did his best to return it, and when you closed the door, his face was ready to explode.

it was so damn difficult to deal with these feelings, but maybe it was better this way. knowing where you stood on your end, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on anything.

perhaps it was alright to admire from afar. things could happen in the future, right?

right now, he’d just wait. for a long, long time. bakugou pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. maybe it was alright to not have you right now. perhaps he could better himself for you. just for you.

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