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#he’s always wearing that full body mechanic suit thing
ghostofskywalker · 1 year
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hello!!! would you mind writing a cute little hot tub fic with hunter x s/o reader? many thanks!!!!! <3
hello!! i really like this one, and i hope you enjoy it too :)
words: 1,211
summary: you should have known better than trying to sneak off for some alone time with your boyfriend, and that it was only a matter of time before his brothers found out about the two of you.
clone troopers masterlist
What Happens When You Try To Hide Your Relationship From a Highly Trained Clone Unit
You were laying on the hotel bed when you heard the door open, and you picked your head up to see your boyfriend step into view. “Everyone else asleep?” you asked, and Hunter just nodded as he started to remove his armor. You couldn’t help but stare a little bit at the way his body looked in his Republic-issued blacks, but you didn’t really have to be subtle about it, you were already dating and you were all alone right now.
You’d been traveling with Clone Force 99 as their official mechanic since they last left Kamino, and in that time you’d seen all kinds of crazy things. Once those higher up in the chain of command realized what kind of unauthorized modifications Tech was making to the Marauder, they immediately assigned you to oversee the ship and travel with the team. You had worked out an agreement with the squad’s resident genius, that you wouldn’t touch any of his modifications unless they were in active danger of blowing up or causing bodily harm to anyone in the general vicinity. Since then, you had tried to work with Tech rather than against him, and so far it has worked well, and the ship has never run better.
You weren’t even the newest member of the team, as Echo had joined the squad a little while after you did. He was kind, if a little reserved, and you always enjoyed talking to him. But you would be lying if you said that your favorite member of Clone Force 99 was anyone other than Hunter.
It had started out as a here-and-there thing, with the occasional secret rendezvous whenever he was on Kamino, and you were overjoyed when you found out that you had been assigned to travel with his squad full-time. No one else on the team knew about your relationship, and you didn’t intend for that to change anytime soon. As much as you loved and trusted Hunter’s brothers, there were still consequences for clones caught engaging in romantic relationships. As it was, the Republic was currently paying for a hotel room for you that was never going to be used, but that was how it had to be.
You couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him as he slipped into bed beside you, gently running your hand through his hair and smiling at the soft kiss he placed on your cheek. “You know, I think this hotel has a hot tub downstairs,” he said quietly.
“Is that so?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in his direction. “Wouldn’t that be a bit public?”
“I guarantee that the rest of the squad’s asleep right now,” he said. “And beside, we’re in the middle of the Outer Rim. Who would say anything?”
“Okay, you have a point there.”
“So is that a yes?”
You paused for a moment. “Maybe. Do we even have anything to wear?”
“You’re telling me that you have that giant case of things you carry on every mission and you don’t have anything that could be used as a bathing suit?”
“Okay, you have a point there,” you said, echoing your earlier words.
“I know,” he said, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. “Now get changed. I’d like to get down there before the rest of the squad wakes up tomorrow morning.”
You just laughed as the two of you got out of bed. Hunter was right, you did have something in your pack that could conceivably be used as a bathing suit, and so did he. On the way down to where the hot tub was, you walked once more by the rooms occupied by the others, and Hunter made sure that he could hear them all quietly snoring before you continued on your way.
There was no one else in the room as you stepped in, and your eyes widened at the sight of the large indoor pool and accompanying hot tub. Maybe another day you would take a swim in the pool and float unbothered in the cool water, but right now you had a different mission: the hot tub. The water was bubbling and warm as you stepped in, Hunter not far behind you. You couldn’t help the soft sigh that left your mouth as you settled next to your boyfriend, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“This is nice,” you said.
“I know,” he responded. “Makes you wish life was like this all the time, right?”
“Yeah, I think I’ve been shot at enough for one lifetime.”
He laughed, and you could feel his chest vibrate as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him. One thing led to another, and soon his lips were on yours as you melted into the kiss.
There was no way you even considered going further at this point (at least until you were back in the privacy of the hotel room), but even if you had wanted to, that plan was foiled pretty quickly when you heard the sound of your squad’s voices echoing through the room.
“I knew it!” That was definitely Wrecker, and you knew that your secret was now completely out the window without even having to look.
“No you didn’t.” That was Tech, and you just watched Hunter sigh as he pulled away from you.
“What are you all doing here?” Hunter growled, and you turned to see Tech, Wrecker, Echo, and Crosshair all staring at the two of you.
“Looking for you, actually,” Crosshair said. “Tech got a comm from Cody that we need to leave first thing tomorrow morning for another mission, and we knocked on your door to let you know. It shocked us to no end when we found it completely empty, and with two suitcases on the floor instead of one.”
Hunter clearly didn’t find this situation as funny as his silver-haired brother did. “And all four of you had to take a trip down here to look for me?”
“Of course,” Tech responded. “What if you had gotten into trouble and we had to rescue you?”
You stifled a small giggle, and Hunter just sighed. “I hate you all.”
Crosshair was clearly having the time of his life at this discovery. “You know Hunter, I always suspected that you had a favorite team member, but this just confirms it,” he said, a sly smile on his face.
“Crosshair, I swear-” Hunter started to growl, but you cut him off with a look.
“Don’t worry you two,” Wrecker responded. “Your secret is safe with us.”
That definitely calmed your nerves, and you finally cracked a smile at the humor of the situation. “That’s great,” Hunter said lowly, clearly wishing that this moment ended as soon as possible. “And now I know we’re leaving tomorrow morning, so you can all go back to bed now.”
Thankfully the rest of the batch acquiesced to his request, and soon the two of you were alone once again. “I’m so sorry about them,” he said to you, shaking his head.
“Don’t be,” you said, leaning in to place a quick kiss on his lips. “I think I’ve been traveling with you all long enough that I’m used to it.”
“I think you’re right about that.”
-the end-
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bearmemesreviews · 10 days
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FotW: SDMI - In Fear of the Phantom
Welcome back to Scooby-Doo Mystery Incorporated, and now we're getting into a problem many reboots and adaptions face - what happens when you try something different. Today's episode isn't really that special, serving as a bridging point between the next stint of episodes focused on the gang's love lives.
Except for featuring the Hex Girls of course.
Not to overshadow the main villain, which would be extra funny considering their backstory, but come on that's what y'all are here for.
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Yeah, they got a bit of a redesign since their last few appearances in the two billion direct to DVD films. Fans DID NOT like this, and in a later episode they had to actually address the backlash while also scrapping these outfits for the original ones. They also steal Luna and Dusk's hair dye and gave Thorn's highlights a diminished role.
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My personal opinion? Eh, I would've preferred a middle ground between the two, but for reboots I encourage designers to go all out since it's their own thing. So for Mystery Incorporated I would've either kept the redesigns or gave them completely brand new looks a second time. The OGs have a more cohesive aesthetic, but I like how MI experiments by giving each girl their own Alt style. It's probably Dusk who could probably use a new outfit though, since her Tank Girl getup doesn't mesh as well as Thorn's "Pagan School Girl" and Luna's "Lesbian Thespian" outfits do. Actually, maybe one of those Scene Kid reconstructions of School Uniforms would've worked better?
Oh yeah, this nerd.
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Backstory: Like most lesbians Velma is a massive fan of The Hex Girls, snagging front row tickets for the Scooby Gang just in time for them to witness a "Phantom" try to murder Thorn on stage. As with every mystery the gang decide to take it upon themselves to do the cop's job to keep the concert going while protecting the band.
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This leads to an exploration of the show's two main ships, Fredphe and Shoob - again, yes really.
This show is really good trust me on this.
Scooby outright calls Shaggy a cheater for going to prom with Velma instead of hanging out with him like they always do, and replaces Mathew Lillard with a wooden dummy much to Shaggy's chagrin.
Fred meanwhile comes out as nonbinary a teenage boy with emotions as he finally grasps Daphne's romantic interest in him. All thanks to an entire song written by Daphne where she uses Fred's special interest to get through to him.
Behold, one of the best songs made for a television show in history.
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Before this spectacular moment of audio interposed with occasional Zelda CDI-level animation (to be fair are you even looking at the animation in the first place) we got some Phantom shenanigans. Mostly him responding to Scoob and Shag's ability to warp time and space by just setting them on fire, probably the most effective thing one these guys have attempted so far.
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Design: Obviously a homage to The Phantom of the Opera, and as we go through the series, you'll start to notice a lot more homages that Wikipedia will kindly point out for you. Though you can also see a bit of Comic Supervillain in his design, so much so that he doesn't seem to fit with the show's own aesthetic. He wears a black full body suit with a gigantic, taller than his own head, Dracula collar and grim reaper-esque hood. He has a fabricated piece of his outfit that goes over his shoulders like Football Pads, but with a sleeker design as it attaches his cape to the main costume. His cape is black but its interior is lined with a sparkling holographic material.
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His mask, belt, boots, and glovers are all made of golden mechanical pieces, as they actually allow him to charge up bolts of electricity to fire at the teens in our show. This tech is never explained, and he really only uses it a few times before forgetting he has these weapons at his disposal.
His mask is the best part of the outfit, legitimately cool while evoking a gas mask. It's almost like it was made out of several pieces asymmetrically stuck to each other with large bolts, like if C3PO was mangled in an accident and put back together with recolored bits of R2-D2. There are several short, cylindrical ports on his gauntlets, boots, belt, and mask that occasionally glow green.
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Reveal: Shaggy, with an extensive knowledge of obscure musical groups as we'll be shown time and time again, recognized the shiny material of The Phantom's cape as belonging to a One-Hit Wonder named Fantzee Pantz. And once that's discovered it's pretty obvious that the other suspect, The Hex Girl's manager, is not the culprit as he was just as responsible for Fantzee's obscurity as THG.
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No, the true culprit is the girl's songwriter, who first attempted to sabotage them through badly written songs but was thwarted by the girl's talent and popularity - So he then turned to just trying to kill them, and Daphne. He ends up taking Scoob's dummy to jail with him, but the original duo patch things up by then - letting us look back at Velma who got sidelined so badly this episode.
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2/5 Goofy as hell design for a goofy character, probably the most "Villain of The Week" we've encountered so far. In fact, he'd probably fit in better in Miraculous Ladybug than this show. Not that bad otherwise, just not as impressive.
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killerhubby · 4 months
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NAME: dante barone achard ALIAS: mirage NICKNAMES: mr. mirage, mr. m, m AGE: thirty-eight BIRTHDAY: january thirty-first SPECIES: human GENDER: cis male PRONOUNS: he / him ORIENTATION: panromantic / pansexual PLACE OF BIRTH: italy, napoli OCCUPATION: crime lord, drug lord, ex-hitman, businessman, philanthropist. FINANCIAL STATUS: billionaire CURRENT RESIDENCE: organisation primarily in italy, france and spain, expanded later into japan, south korea, australia and the usa. his usual residence in his manor in italy.
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ETHNICITY: half italian, quarter french, quarter english EYE COLOR: forest green HAIR COLOR: dark brown that appears lighter under sunlight. has a few hidden white hairs HEIGHT: seven foot / two hundred and thirteen centimeters WEIGHT: one hundred twenty kilograms / two hundred sixty five pounds BODY TYPE: mesomorph, athletic, broad arms and chest, small waist, very sculpted form SKIN TONE: porcelain, skin tone does warm in hotter months/climates due to sun exposure VOICECLAIM: the mandalorian , din djarin. PIERCINGS: nipple piercings. previously had a standard lobe, helix and tragus piercing that have since healed up. TATTOOS: full sleeve on both arms, from shoulder to wrists, full back tattoo, all monochromatic DOMINANT HAND: right but learnt to be ambidextrous NOTABLE TRAITS: scars on the face and body, most notably across the bridge of his nose, right cheek and just above his right brow. beauty spot on the bridge of his nose. these traits are often covered up when he’s required to live under a different identity temporarily, as well as changing his eye and hair color with contacts and hair dye SMOKING: rarely, only smokes when stressed DRINKING: often ATTIRE: mirage’s signature appearance is always formal no matter what he does. dressed for business and to kill, he is seen with personally tailored suits made for his build. form-fitting suits, black suit jacket and pants, charcoal gloves, black tie and vest, and a perfectly white shirt. when on the field / heisting, his vest is usually replaced by a bulletproof vest. when masked, mirage wears a balaclava beneath the mask to conceal his skin tone and hair
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COMBAT SKILLS: mixed martial arts, self-defense techniques, master marksman WEAPON(S) OF CHOICE: pistols, snipers, automatic rifles, knives LANGUAGE: english , french , italian , spanish , japanese (learning) ACADEMIC SKILLS: undergraduate and masters degree in mechanical engineering OTHER SKILLS: high strength, high stamina, high resilience, recon, illusionist, gambling, sleight of hand, psychological manipulation
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PARENTS: david barone ⁽ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ╱ ᵈᵉᶜᵉᵃˢᵉᵈ ⁾ , olivia  achard  walker ⁽ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ╱ ᵈᵉᶜᵉᵃˢᵉᵈ ⁾ SIBLINGS: rosalina barone achard ⁽ ˢᶦˢᵗᵉʳ ╱ ᵈᵉᶜᵉᵃˢᵉᵈ ⁾ SIGNIFICANT OTHER: heavily verse dependent, multiship CHILDREN: ███████ barone achard ⁽ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵃᵈᵒᵖᵗᵉᵈ ˢᵒⁿ ╱ ᵃˡᶦᵛᵉ ⁾ PETS: angelo and demone ⁽ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵇᶦʳᵈˢ ⁾ s’mores ⁽ ᵍᵒˡᵈᵉⁿ ʰᵃᵐˢᵗᵉʳ ⁾, enzo ⁽ ᶜʳᵒʷ ⁾, principessa daisy ⁽ ᵈᵒᵐ. ᵐᵃˡˡᵃʳᵈ ᵈᵘᶜᵏ ⁾, nevicare ⁽ ᵒʷˡ ⁾, retired guard dogs ⁽ ᵒᶠ ᵛᵃʳʸᶦⁿᵍ ˡᵃʳᵍᵉ ᵈᵒᵍ ᵇʳᵉᵉᵈˢ ⁾
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firstborn into the family, dante dreamt of a life full of freedom, prosperity, and quality. for his mother, his father, his sister. there was never any semblance of peace, the echoes of screaming and gunshots, the battle cries of gangs and the blaring sirens after the storm of violence had ended. fear was the only thing he felt in the early years of his childhood, family huddled together to avoid the stray bullets that shattered windows and left their remnants upon their walls ⸻ until one day, the bullets no longer sang in the distance but instead rang violently in his ears.
the painful age of fifteen, hearing the brutish yells of gang members shaking the walls of the only place he know as home, watching through a small crack in the door as mother spilt tears, the end of the barrel pointing straight towards her chest as his father pleaded. despite the pleads, the endless tears ⸻ all they could do was laugh. like villains. dante could not yell , could not reach out in hopes of saving his family as he cradled his sister. hand over her mouth, to muffle the tears in hopes of surviving.
he still remembers the voice of his father, this voice, rough, yet he was a soft-spoken man. the tremble in his voice as he was willing to give up his very own life if it meant the rest walked free ⸻ but the world was cruel that day. dante would never forget the ring of the bullets that flew and pierced the hearts of his parents, lying in a pool of crimson red. so heavily contrasting the muted tones of her dress, his button—up shirt. the stench of blood filling the small building made dante forget fear. instead, he finally knew vengeance. at times, he would thank his child-like curiosity; remembering the shining, silver pistol of his father tucked away in the closet.
it's weight within the teen's hands heavy, unnatural. cold. but he had to survive. avenge his protectors ⸻ his family. both hands grip the weapon, his hands shake for a second, then two, and then calmness overcomes him. he can't miss. it's him against three and he has to be the victor. faint chatter meets his ear, a deadly silence overcomes dante, he dares not to peer at the ever-expanding pool of blood that begins to reach his door.
his heart races, the adrenaline making his heart quicken by the second. he lines up the first shot, right between the eyes, before a bang , bang , bang , bang ⸻ escapes. they collapse, like dominoes, and dante swears to himself that at that moment he was blessed with a marksman's precision.
a bullet for each, but he remembers only firing three. not four. he sees the trace of the fourth, not from the silver pistol, its burning outline through the wall, and to his sister behind it. he watches her struggle, hugging her own abdomen in speechless pain. he watches as pale skin hands become drenched in that same, violent red ink. he scatters, as the pistol tumbles to the ground, in a frantic reach for the closest phone he could find, shaking hands forcefully pressing each number before the dreaded realization comes that he is too late. a faint thud, loud enough to be heard from the room where his sister endured a wound that he would blame himself for the rest of eternity.
he hears the oh-so familiar sounds of the sirens, but they fall on deaf ears . a lonely funeral came afterwards. dante. fifteen. family, deceased. years of grueling work came after. though it was not conventional, it paid the bills. living a double life as a hitman , and your usual university student. a sweet boy now turned into a criminal ⸻ his marksmanship never left him, not since that day, continuously refining his sharp aim till weapons became part of his being, and a killer's instinct second nature. a mastermind, an illusionist with a tongue made of knives. his way with words made him a lethal ally and a fatal enemy.
the drug trade, the arms dealings, the bounties began thriving within italy, france, spain and then came the rest. the name mirage sung like a love song to some, and others spoke it with ill intent. a name known by elites and criminals alike ⸻ and none could deny, no matter how corrupt he truly was, without a deadly gaze or a scowl to show, concealed by the skull mask; he is masterful. he is a leader. he is a trickster. he is mirage.
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wonderinc-sonic · 1 month
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Growing in the Greenhouse on Ao3
5.1k, Gen/Gen/ No Archive Warnings
E-123 Omega & Gemerl
Comfort, Healing, Anxiety, OCD
Continuation of Cyber Virus AU, follows a few months after Muscle Memory. This AU is a future in which all the mechanical characters had to get new bodies based on Ultimate Life Form research when Eggman sent them Trojan updates to reclaim their bodies. Omega has covered a lot of ground in his recovery since being reborn; he does his best to lend that learning to Gemerl.
Please Note: I am not usually a 'Don't Tag as Ship' kinda guy. But you may like to know: in this setting they are mobian hybrids, and although they are different species they share about 40% of their DNA. So, ah, it's not ship content.
Omega flicked his head as bees buzzed around his ears; he briskly marched through their merry field with a large rucksack and arms full of more bags. The insects on the rapeseed bumped him softly, raising the hairs on his arm - he'd finally retired his uniform of full-cover boiler suits for a trip to the growing regions, and his sleeveless shirt left his well-trained muscles on show; especially the newly shaved patch bearing a tattooed Ω on his bicep. And he needed those muscles to pull his cart of food and supplies; who needed a draft horse, when you were the greatest Ox to walk the land?
Burrow Borough was, unlike most previously populated areas, busier than it had been before the cybervirus: both the relatively low machine density before the attack, and the increased need for hands-on farming had led several small cottages to be built around the Rabbit's house and area, but had kept their distance from Vanilla's homestead. Omega smiled faintly at the sign on the door: Cream had made it as a child for her mother, but hadn't been old enough to know her as anything but 'mum', and Vanilla liked it so much it still read 'Cream's Mum's House' to this day, and had been varnished against weathering. He pulled the bell cord, and swished his tail with it as it swung, chiming through the house.
Cream answered the door, wiping her hands on a cloth as she bowed to him.
"Hello Mr Omega, it is so wonderful to see you so well!" She said loudly, and someone else in the house must have heard as they began moving about at his name. Cream was wearing her mother's gardening overalls, rolled once at the ankles, and a lacy shirt. She still looked little to Omega, who stood taller than most Mobians and some humans, but had been assured she would be much different than he last saw her:
"'You have grown.'" He quoted Rouge. Cream beamed, fluffing her ears; the one thing Omega was confident were bigger, because they seemed to never stop.
"Thank you! Will you come in?"
"Affirmative. I bring supplies."
Vanilla rolled into the kitchen and bowed her head. They had widened it as far as it would go for her chair, but she still had to hobble out on a stick to sit by the table for the mandatory tea. Omega didn't care for it, but he sat on best behaviour as Cream tidied around them. She was sending Omega with almost as much back as he'd given them, exchanging the grains, milk and wool he'd brought for fresh vegetables and oil for the northern settlements. Vanilla gratefully perused the Newspaper, holding it carefully away from the food and drink. Omega had been helping move supplies since the hospital was finished, and they always brought newspapers for every town, at least two. They reclaimed as many as they could to recycle and bleach to reprint, but there were a few who were hoarding their connection to the world. He could see how she poured over it as most people did, making notes on her own saved notebooks, and looking for any names she knew.
"It is good news for these weeks. Central City is all but evacuated. The human settlement in Holoska has been contacted - it was an avalanche, not an attack." He pointed, and she smiled sadly.
"How fortunate. Have you heard- I don't suppose it's important enough to print, but… anything at all from the Chaotix?"
Omega's nostrils flared, and he swallowed unsweetened tea.
"Their investigation is presumed still underway."
"Of course. Sorry to trouble you."
"We will send word if we know more."
Vanilla nodded, her eyes back on the paper, until she carefully pushed it away.
"How rude of me, apologies. How are you?"
Cream put milk into the teas with a smile as she finished loading the coolbox, and smiled over her own cup in satisfaction.
"Well. Tails has new researchers making strides in clockwork. Angel Island weathered the last siege, destroying several fleets. Rouge has returned to our home."
"Wonderful- and she's recovering?" Cream asked. Omega's eye twitched.
"She has returned home."
Vanilla nodded, but Cream remained sunshine-happy as she asked after all their friends. Omega recognised in her that twitching kiasu she tried to shake away. He had hoped to find Vanilla more independent than she was, onto crutches at least - it would have made his request a lot easier.
"And that's the grand plan? Clockwork plane, fly in the lightning storm to take advantage of the downed electrics, and we all target the leader of the fleet?" She breathed, then winced; "They storm the ship, I mean. You all."
"… It would be greatly beneficial to have more volunteers with their own means of flight." He said simply. Cream smiled, pained, but shook her head.
"I would like to help you ever-so-much, but I cannot leave Mother, and I cannot leave Gemerl." She put her hand on Vanilla's, who shook her head and spoke quietly to her.
"I am capable of caring for Gemerl."
"Then who would care for you?" Cream hissed back. Vanilla tutted her tongue quietly.
"It would not be long."
"Unless it was." Cream said softly, glancing at Omega. He had learned his Mobian social graces from Shadow, meaning he didn't have any: he stared right at them as they tried to have a quiet conversation, and nodded as he helpfully pulled the tail of the Elephant in the room.
"It will not be safe. We will be armed with fists against machine guns. The height of the fight will be enough to kill anyone who falls. Even Cream."
The table fell dead quiet as the Rabbits looked at their palms. Vanilla covered her face disguised as a cough.
"Exactly." Cream said plainly; "And there would be nobody to care for mother. Sorry, Omega, sir."
"Perhaps we can consider this over some time, Cream: I'm surely not the only reason you wouldn't take such an action," Vanilla whispered over her tea, her cheeks flushing and nose twitching.
"I did not presume you would volunteer. I am not offended."
Vanilla swallowed hard, placed her trembling cup down, and nodded. Cream was glaring at Omega, and he cocked his head to ask why.
"Thank you for your visit, Mr Omega, but we won't keep you from your duties." She said sharply. Omega thought for a moment.
"Your request for my departure is acknowledged, but rejected: I came also to speak with Gemerl."
Vanilla sniffed and stared hard at the window. Cream stood from her side to open the door for Omega to their garden.
"You'll find him in his greenhouse, but you'll not always find him in good spirits. Please knock when you'd like to come back through the house."
She stared daggers at him as he crossed their herb garden to the large greenhouse, stepping carefully on the stones to leave the clover intact.
In the greenhouse, Omega found a beautiful array of saplings, organised in clay pots with chips of wood scored with their names. It was a large space, and hot within, but not so large he could miss the rabbit hunched over the blueberry bush he was propagating, or the sleeping bag rolled up on the floor. As the door clattered, he reached for a gold headband, hurriedly, but stopped his hand as he glanced in the copper watering can and saw the Bull.
"… greetings, Gemerl."
Gemerl turned to face him. The new and short hairs around his eyes and muzzle were dark, creating black lines that were interrupted by the customary red lines around the outer rim that mirrored Omega. But the rest of his fur had lightened significantly to a deep golden, striped with coppers from his brow, down his ears, and over his arms. The headpiece in his hand was a delicate gold band with three points and a gem at the front - Omega recognised it to be the one piece of his old body he could keep, because it was a functionless decoration that could be removed. Someone had placed it on a ring of metal for him, but for whatever reason he didn't wear it, and moved it under a cloth as he saw Omega staring.
"Hello. You must be Omega." He said plainly, his eye on his shoulder. Omega frowned, Gemerl did not: he was months younger to this than Omega, so his face twitched oddly, nose wriggling against his control.
"Your memory serves you poorly. We have met in this form. You had not long awoken."
"I remember very little from that time. They had made an anaesthetics: I am told I have you to thank for that."
"Theory is likely: I caused problems." Omega chuckled slightly. Learning to laugh had been unnatural, but he liked to show off this progress, and especially in front of Gemerl. Shadow had reported the trouble they'd had with him, which was why they'd sent Omega in the first place:
"You might give him hope." Rouge had hummed, trimming the fur around his short horns so they could keep growing without the tangles.
"He will not look to me as a success in this journey." He had muttered, and she had biffed him with the comb. She was standing, now, with a jewel-encrusted cane, but her broken wing had been removed. They would be trialling the new prosthetic one, but it was unlikely their plan could wait for her proficiency, which pained the team but especially Omega: he half hoped there might be another crisis after Eggman, so that he could see her flying in action one day, back to her full majesty, but he kept that to himself.
Omega was quietly confident he was right: Gemerl didn't look comforted by or happy to see him. When silence extended between them, he turned back to his seedlings. He was measuring size, counting buds, and passing a magnifying glass over them to check their pristine leaves. When he'd finished one plant, he turned to the next, with the same obsessive and feverish fingers.
"You are growing food? Do you… like food?" Omega tried. Gemerl glanced at him.
"My family are wonderful cooks. Yes, I have found food can be joyful. I do not like a lot of it."
"I will have to try your food. I do not like mine."
"You are welcome to it."
"I am not. I have offended them."
Gemerl's ears arched and his face twitched involuntarily, but his fists shook. Omega raised his hands.
"It was accidental. I will apologise."
"You will."
Silence descended again, and Gemerl tried to take the graduated string he measured with but his fingers were still shaking. Omega's chest panged with the familiarity.
"Would you like assistance?"
"No. It is delicate. You are not."
"I have learned to be."
Gemerl made a strange noise in his throat; "You have changed, then." He muttered, then thought to himself, staring at a flower.
"Of course I have," Omega said softly, showing how gently he could laugh now. He watched over Gemerl's shoulder as he worked tentatively, and held his hand out for the string. Gemerl begrudgingly placed the string in his hand and wrote down the measurements.
Life was so quiet with the machines gone: they could hear goats and birds outside, and the soft clatter of the breeze. They didn't click, whirr or beep like they used to; they breathed the humid air in soft puffs, their feet made quiet steps, and their mouths clicked and swallowed from time to time. Omega had learned to find it normal - not pleasant, but normal, but could tell his presence was raising hairs on Gemerl, letting his mind race.
"What is the function of these metrics?" He began. Gemerl sighed in relief and moved them on to the next one.
"These seeds were entrusted to us by Silver, they were all that remained of his garden after The Restoration fell. When he stayed, he could not tend them - his powers were too explosive. I am watching them until he can take propagation and grow again."
"Good. What will we do when we have measured them?"
"Measure again."
Omega glared at him. He continued to add to his notes.
"Plants do not grow this fast. Constant vigilance will not aid their progress. This is unnecessary."
Gemerl flicked his head, flexing his neck.
"You are invited to leave."
"This is not 'healthy' Gemerl." Omega stopped, lowering the string from the leaf he measured. He tentatively took Gemerl's shoulder, pulling him back from the plants.
Gemerl looked blankly up at Omega. His red eyes kept twitching like there was something over Omega's shoulder, and he jerked his neck.
"This is a safe activity I can partake in without bringing harm to anyone."
"I understand."
"You do not."
"I do." Omega barked, ready to release Gemerl too hard from his grip, but he flinched and put his hands on Omega's to stop him from throwing him.
"Do not be rough in the greenhouse."
"Warning noted, gratitude extended. I am very familiar with the fear you are expressing."
He slowly released Gemerl's shoulder, letting him watch the hand move all the way back to behind his back. Gemerl shook his head.
"When I returned from the hospital, I found our home had been ransacked. Vanilla did not return for weeks later. Cream never told me who had been the perpetrator, but I knew when I saw the fear with which she looked at me." Gemerl stepped away from the plants as he spoke, standing at a distance from everything, and looking at his soft mobian paws; "I have these eye-creations. My eyes make things happen that are not, but I see how they would. I see myself hurting them as I did then."
"It is imagination. From the act of creating images. Did you have this process before?"
"If I chose to use it."
"Biological beings do this when they think."
"I do not want to think of hurting them!" He barked, thumping his foot; "It is good my weapon body is gone! We were monstrous!"
Omega bristled all over, and his tail threatened to swish into the stands of pots. He gripped it in his hand and wrung it out.
"Proposing that we walk - it is confined and warm in here."
Gemerl's eyes flicked to everything - he jumped at the breeze, the bees and the knocking of his own knees. Omega wondered if he looked as 'Animal' as Gemerl when he was learning to be a person: he had never seen a rabbit seem more rabbit.
"Agoraphobia is less common than Claustrophobia at present." He remarked coolly. Gemerl blinked at the birds cawing, ears bent.
"I query how that data would be collected now."
"Learning Machine has always been too clever." He snorted; "I heard from a doctor when they designed the hospital; Claustrophobia caused by being encased in buildings controlled by machines."
"Anecdotal to us. But believable. Why do you share this would-be-fact?"
"You are scared of the outside. I was cruel to suggest it."
"I am not scared. I am receiving imaginations of what might go wrong."
"And you receive them less in the greenhouse?"
"There is less to go wrong. No people. Just plants. The roof might collapse, but I have learned to ignore that."
Omega snorted again, and bumped him softly. This gesture of friendship spooked Gemerl as well, and he gripped himself in.
"You could not hurt me in a meaningful way."
"An unbidden imagination indicates otherwise."
"Then try: I have found myself stronger than we planned."
Gemerl's fists were close to his body as he eyed Omega suspiciously.
"How much?"
"Enough to kill Rouge, had it not been for Shadow. On accident. I was In Pain. You were deactivated, I presume you were not told."
Gemerl sucked air in through his nose and glared at Omega.
"You should not have come to my family's home. You must leave."
"Is that how strong you Imagine you are?"
"You will leave." He stated plainly, stopped on the path, knees slightly bent and paws in fists. Omega raised one brow.
"Back through the house-"
"No! Off the property! Through the river! Over the fence - nowhere near them!" He barked, and when Omega didn't move, he shoved him backwards, standing between Omega and the view of the distant cottage. Omega toppled in surprise as he was hit with pressure like being run over by a speeding car. He sat up, blinking in shock, then shoved him back.
All of Gemerl's fur fuzzed in fear, but he predicted the grapple and pushed his whole strength into Omega's arms in response. Omega grunted in shock as he almost matched him, before Omega's weight and months-better-balance overpowered him, and Gemerl slipped on his paws and went down.
Before his back could hit the dry dirt he skittered out, running back towards the house faster than Omega could process and was braced in front of the house again.
"Processing…" Omega muttered to himself; "Do you have reference for the power you just exerted?"
"Leave the house!"
Omega looked him up and down, then turned on his heel. Gemerl stalked behind him, fists formed as he walked towards the back of the homestead; two large draft horses chewed grass anxiously as he climbed the fence.
"You will not disturb Butter and Scotch!" Gemerl shouted behind him. Omega swished his tail and smirked.
"They will not be disturbed by me."
He patted one on the rump as he passed, then lifted it over his head with one hand on its chest. Whichever horse this was was disturbed, quite profoundly, and the other evaded his hand when he tried to finish his trick, so he cut his losses and placed it down, and they both ran to the other side of their paddock. Omega squatted slightly and leapt over twice his height to land back on the path ten paces from Gemerl, who had crouched entirely to the ground, his ears pinned back and out straight.
"Inferred: you were unaware of the strength you output. Safe demonstration was needed."
"Omega… is still monstrous."
"This unit is as monstrous as ever." He chuffed loudly, rolling his shoulders, but considered that might be the wrong thing to say; "All is under control now. I no longer feel monstrous like you."
"You assume incorrectly how I feel."
"Unlikely. I have felt the same as you."
"Were that true, you would understand that staying away from others is the best course of action."
"I understand that logic. I know it is faulty."
Gemerl looked at his paws and peeked at Omega over them.
"If I am as strong as you say, I should never set foot in the home."
"And so you sleep in a house of glass?"
Omega approached him slowly so he couldn't dart.
"If I am too far, I cannot protect them or see an attacker. If I am too near, I cannot protect them from myself."
"A constant state of fear will put you at risk of adrenalin spike. I have been taught that avoiding all risks will increase the fear. You must challenge yourself now, or rot in a glass house."
Omega had closed the gap between them, and tried not to loom too high over the rabbit. He breathed fast and hard, squinting at Omega suspiciously, but given time rose up to stand to his full height.
"No."
"No? Error in logic?"
"No, refusal. I will not increase risks."
"Gemerl sounds like me. I thought you were a learning machine - learn from me."
"I was a learning machine. I am unsure what I am now."
"You were built to evolve into what you needed to be once. You have the same capacity now."
Omega awkwardly clapped a hand on his shoulder, and left it there as Gemerl went through the familiar panic at contact.
"Your rabbits miss you."
"… You should leave. You may go through the house."
They walked the meadow again in silence. Gemerl still jumped at everything, but tried to cover it better this time. Omega kicked a pebble in frustration: he knew it had been helpless. He was not equipped to inspire or comfort anyone.
The pebble sped too fast, bounced from a rock with a sound like a bullet and cracked into a cherry tree opposite. It rippled and rustled, and Gemerl dove for something in the air before it could drop; he leapt, his ears flailing, to catch a nest of eggs as they dropped from the branches.
Gemerl's chest heaved as he cupped the bundle in his bare paws, and the world around rustled quietly again. Omega blinked, eyes resting on his ears. Large ears. Really, they were large ears. Smaller than Creams, but stronger for the DNA they'd taken from the Ultimate Life Form.
"Oh- thank you Gemerl!" Someone called from the house. Gemerl tensed all over as Cream hurried from the cottage, not waiting to put on her shoes but kicking off her slippers. She flew to them, and took the nest from Gemerl's hands before he could react; he puffed up in panic. Omega smiled ruefully at the memory, and kept his space from Gemerl while he calmed.
"How did you know to catch it? This is a magpie nest, they'll be so grateful!" She beamed, flapping up the tree to nestle it in a safe place and secure it. Gemerl stood beneath her, hands poised to catch.
"I had an Imagination. I could not ignore this one."
"That's lucky! You're very clever Gemerl!"
"Indeed he is. I did not know you had the potential to fly." Omega remarked sharply. Cream beamed, staying in the air with her toes grazing the grass as she nodded to Gemerl.
"I am certain he could! If you can take off from the ground, you can surely fly!"
Gemerl swallowed, nose twitching. As they naturally drifted towards the house, Gemerl's ears joined his nose, and he cricked his neck again.
"Do you eat dinner outside too, Gemerl?" He asked sharply. Cream winced.
"Gemerl prefers I leave his dinner at the greenhouse. It is so good you went out to walk today!"
Omega fixed him with a glance; "I did not know you had made an exception for me. Effort acknowledged."
"I considered your suggestion:" Gemerl offered quietly; "Monitoring the plants does not make them grow any more."
Cream smiled to Omega, dropping back on the step to finish putting her big boots on.
"Since you're walking, and mama is reading the paper - Would you like a tour, Omega? I have baked."
Gemerl walked a pace behind Omega and Cream. She did him proud; she was brave, she showed him where the scar on her hip was and how it was healing from her marrow donation to Gemerl, and how she wrangled and detangled the fighting goats. She asked important questions about the relative efforts to restore and save people, and all of Rouge's latest plans - more questions she wrote in a letter to give to him. Omega walked more slowly than usual, hands behind his back, and nodded thoughtfully, but he could tell he wasn't really listening as carefully as he should. It irked Gemerl greatly that he didn't value the sharp young woman she was becoming. He missed her company so much, but there was still greenhouse glass keeping her distant from him in his mind. Omega claimed to understand him, but how could he feel this real, tangible danger like coursing electricity through a live wire? He stood tall and calm, lumbered easily and naturally - Gemerl had never been so certain that something was very, very wrong with how he was made.
Until he tuned in to the birds as they squawked loudly when Cream through seed for them, and he watched how he twisted his wrists and maintained an even foot between them, leaning back and keeping his hands away as she naturally swayed in her stride. He did it with ease, but it was caution nonetheless as he helped Cream pull the odd weed from their squashes and used just two fingers to tease the plants. Plants, just plants - nothing too risky here. Gemerl bent down with them, and delicately and carefully dug the roots out of the earth.
Cream scampered back while they enjoyed their afternoon tea from her basket to make sure her mother didn't need anything. Omega sighed, letting tension from his shoulders.
"She is a good girl."
"She is." Gemerl nodded; "She will not leave her mother's side."
"I didn't ask?"
"I interpreted from your discussion of this plan. She will not go, although she would like to."
Omega nodded, munching the soft dough curiously, then licking sugar from his bared hand.
"Would you enlist?"
"... I have not practised combat in this form."
"You have the capacity to fly."
"A Rabbit family skill that takes years to learn. Vanilla will recover before I am as proficient as Cream."
"You have excellent instincts."
"I cannot tell them from the fears."
Omega nodded; "When you learn, if we have not tried, send us word."
"If I learn."
"When. You are the learning machine, as I am the killing machine."
"Who said this? An unfair assessment."
"... you."
"... Apologies offered."
"Not accepted. It was true. It may still be."
"From all that we know now, it is not."
Gemerl tentatively took a beignet, and tore it with his soft paws to small, unchokeable pieces.
"As a machine, this unit had one fear."
"An Eggman robot should have had none."
"It developed one." Omega growled, cracking his neck. Gemerl stared at him, and tried to imitate a Vanilla-esque Compassionate face.
"What fear?"
"The fear... of success. Success on its mission. Logical conclusion of E-123 Omega's mission was decommissioning. There should have been no issue with that. This unit feared that. Illogical."
If Omega slipped up with just one thing, Gemerl noticed, it was his own pronouns. The last time Omega and Gemerl had seen each other as machines, Omega had no trouble with this. He supposed that Omega, like Gemerl, was now adjusting to having a human brain filtering his thoughts, instead of a rigid translator. It didn't matter, but he thought it through as he chewed.
"That is logical. You developed identity spontaneously, and based on one condition. E-series robots are indeed demolished in instances of fault or losing purpose. You highlighted a danger based on fundamental principles, even if there was no physical threat posed."
Omega shook his head, but smiled slightly. Gemerl felt assured this was something he liked to hear, though he denied it.
"This unit supposed that if it outlasted Eggman, it would be in great distress without a purpose. It made plans to come to you."
"To destroy another Eggman Robot?"
"To seek counsel. To learn how to evolve."
Gemerl's ears flicked.
"I am a disappointment of a counsel. Counter proposal to hypothetical plan: Shadow is a more appropriate counsel."
"Incorrect, but defend point."
"According to memory - which is no longer infallible, N-B - Shadow is an artificially designed creature left with one residual instruction, that he eventually resisted. He searched, reassessed, and redefined his directive."
Omega scratched the hairs on his neck as he thought.
"You are a thinking machine. Similarity was not identified."
"I am now just a thinking rabbit. Compliment rejected."
"You have undermined my next statement, clever Rabbit."
"Make it regardless."
Omega laughed harshly. Gemerl's chest twinged with the temptation to try it with him, but when he'd practised laughter it was too weird on him, so he twitched his neck and shook it out.
"I aimed to provide you counsel. I have not achieved this. I would try again if you ever felt it could help." He grunted, slumping back on his arms like a real person, while Gemerl sectioned dessert into tiny pieces like a machine. He considered his words and the sugar on his fingers, but his ears pinged him that Cream would return soon.
"If I were to train in new combat skills, it could only be with you."
"You estimate Cream's prowess below mine?"
"To raise a fist against Cream cannot be countenanced!"
"It was a joke."
"... learn your audience."
Omega laughed again, and clapped the powder off his hand, placing the glove back on to shake Gemerl's."
"I'll bring you violence with your next delivery of rice. But wear some clothes."
"Training! Clothing is not necessary in polite company for male-identified mobians. They provide handles for the fighter."
"Rebuttal: fur and skin are odd textures to me. I will be wearing them, so you cannot have an advantage in combat over me."
Gemerl looked at his paw in surprise, and took in Omega's highly covered body.
"That is... the simplest thing I have liked; the soft fur. You don't? How odd."
"We are beasts now, we do not make complete sense."
"Upon reflection, we never did."
Omega left, running with his cart to catch up with the day he'd lost, before dinner. Cream had made stew, and Gemerl could smell it from the garden with his greenhouse door open.
When Omega had first arrived, he had been enveloped with visions of the glass around him shattered by a stone somehow, but now that fear had passed, and the stone had been kicked elsewhere. But the sanctity of the greenhouse had been compromised somehow; it no longer felt like his destined domain, and he would not grow in here so easily as the plants. He turned to the door, but looked back once to the headpiece of his old self Cream had made him; a crown, she described it, and so he couldn't bear to wear it, despite the work she'd put in to tailor it. He lifted it again - it wasn't heavy, but the imitation stone did weigh it forward. To sit on his head, he had to pull his ears through and commit to wearing it. But it was a special occasion.
Gemerl closed the greenhouse door behind him as Cream was serving dinner, and knocked on the back door. His nose kept twitching, itching his cheeks with his own whiskers, but he stood firm, heart pounding. He thought of Omega, twisting his cuffs, and tried that too as a fiddle for calming.
"Hello Gemerl, is everything okay?" Vanilla asked from the other side of the door as she hobbled on her stick.
"Ma- I got it! Sit down-"
"Your hands are full, dear-"
"It is open." Gemerl called, his voice cracking; "May I come in?"
He heard scuffling and a chair scraping, and Cream yanked the door open.
"Gemerl - this is your home! Please never ask again!" She beamed, plopping his slippers on the doorstep as she tugged him in.
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mcl38 · 1 year
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new lando article just dropped! its fun that hes not following a strict schedule, writing (or dictating - jury’s still out) this column before the singapore gp means this is less of a race report and more of a fun update of his life. it also means that he spends a decent portion of it talking about pissing his pants (hypothetical, never happened). make of that what you will. anyways as always i am reminding you not to subscribe to the telegraph or even give them ad money by visiting their website, because i will be posting every single article in full as soon as it drops. u can find them all under the hashtag ‘lando’s columns’. this one (as always) will be under the cut, enjoy the read!
[photo of lando looking at some telemetry, jose and will blurry on either side of him. he’s wearing the black singapore fireproofs] 
Imagine a street circuit like Monaco where one little mistake can put you in the wall. Now add speed. Marina Bay may not be the fastest street circuit in the world. But it’s bumpy. And hot – 30C plus and over 90 per cent humidity, meaning a tropical downpour is never far from turning the track into an ice rink.
Yep, for overall toll on the body and all-round intensity, I would say Singapore is right up there as the toughest race on the calendar. It’s not as hard on your neck or your core as, say, Miami. But it’s just so energy-sapping. So intense under those lights.
I have actually only ever raced here once, in my rookie season back in 2019. So I’m by no means an expert. But I well remember just how draining it was. Literally. You have to drink so much before the race that you begin it 2 per cent heavier than normal. Then you sweat so much during the race you not only lose that 2 per cent but at least another 2 per cent on top of that.
It’s brutal. Taking on so much fluid, and constantly topping up the levels, leads me to a question we’re sometimes asked as F1 drivers: do we ever pee in our race suits?
I can honestly tell you I never have. I love my race crew too much to do that to them! I wouldn’t be surprised if it has happened in the past, though. 
[photo of the special livery MCL36 looking soooo sexy in pink guys i love this car so much u dont get it]
Sometimes, particularly in a race which involves a safety car, we can be out there for well over two hours. I was absolutely desperate for a wee at the end of the last race at Monza for instance. But I haven’t yet been so desperate that I’ve just gone in my race suit.
Most of the time, you are so focused on the race itself you don’t actually notice that you need to go. It’s only when you finish, or like I say, when a safety car comes out, that you sometimes realise how desperate you are.
To be honest, in Singapore pretty much all of the fluid you take on is secreted out through sweat. It is so hot inside your suit and helmet that one driver said he used to put a woman's sanitary towel inside his helmet to try to soak up the sweat while he was racing, so that it wouldn’t drip into his eyes.
I have never gone that far, but I do prepare a little differently for the race at Marina Bay. I train on an indoor bike wearing extra layers of clothes: a hoodie, a jacket, a hat. It’s horrible but it makes a big difference when you come here. I even have a couple of electric heaters which I put in the room with me while I’m cycling to try to get me really cooking.
The other thing I’m going to do this weekend, and which I don’t do anywhere else, is drive with a drinks bottle. 
Generally I don’t tend to drink during a race. It’s just not something I’ve ever felt the need to do. I think Barcelona in May this year, when I had tonsillitis and needed to keep drinking on every lap to stop myself from going downhill, was the only other occasion I’ve needed a drinks bottle. But as I say, taking on fluids in Singapore is just a non-negotiable so I have asked my mechanics to put one in the car for me. 
I’m looking forward to the weekend though. I’m feeling good and ready to go. I arrived out here quite early this week and I feel as if I’ve acclimatised pretty well. I’m a night-owl anyway so staying on European time is not a problem for me. It’s what I would choose to do. I’ve also had a lot of fun this week with my new toy: a digital camera which I bought out here on the recommendation of my photographer (who is now very jealous of it).
[photo of beloved with his face covered by a digital camera. this camera has been the bane of my existence and also a source of constant entertainment, much like this column. much like lando himself]
I’ve had a lot of fun exploring Singapore and experimenting with what it can do. I’m not very good with it yet, but I’m really enjoying it.
I just love documenting my life to be honest. I’d have someone with me documenting it all if I could stand for that person to be following me around all the time. Which I cannot. Hence why I’ve got myself a camera I suppose! I just like to look back and record cool things. My summer golf trip for instance. It would have been really cool to have a digital record of that. I like to throw myself into new things generally. 
You might notice that I’m wearing a slightly different helmet this weekend. It’s actually one inspired by Master Chief’s helmet from the Halo games to celebrate my esports team announcing we’re joining the Halo Championship Series [HSC] partner programme.  Quadrant, my team, is something I’m very excited about. So far Halo is our only esports title, but we have big plans to grow the Quadrant brand and expand into other titles. Watch this space! 
For the next few weeks, all my focus is on Formula One. I finished P7 here in 2019. I’d love to go better this weekend. It will not be easy at the toughest race in the world. But we’ll give it everything. Now, where’s my drinks bottle?
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Hey !! I like to write sometimes and I had a cool little concept for the star wars community. I love dream tropes, so this is up for grabs, just tag me so i can read it if u write it ! Wrote this a while ago but could never get beyond this
——————
She had not been queen but for a month when the dreams began.
It started with fires, blistering and hateful, gold coins shining like beacons in the dark, her body heavy and listless, unable to move as the shadows took form, a man so tall, so hateful, so full of pain. She could not liken it to anything she had seen. Naboo was always beautiful, even in its most terrifying moments; the gales of storms that flooded the valleys, the lightning in the mountains, the thunder that rattled every foundation.
This was unlike anything she had ever encountered.
It left her sleepless. Terrified to lay down. Every night, the shape took a more focused form. Flashes of sunny blonde in the backdrop of raining fire and volcanic lightning, the stench of sizzling flesh over roasting fires, the predatory gait as huge hands reached out for her-
Every night she would wake in a sweat.
She tried talking to her handmaidens, she tried catching her mother’s ear, but to no avail. Her dreams were written off as byproducts of stress.
And for a small while, she agreed.
Until the dreams started to change shape.
The same shadowed man, faceless, with that sunny blonde hair, but younger, somehow, her dream consciousness knowing it instinctively, drawn to a gentleness that her first encounters with this man had not known.
This went on for months, fire and brimstone, then lush fields and waterfalls, a back and forth of pleasant mornings and waking with her heart flying out of her chest in the dead of night.
For months, Padme was slowly wearing down under this strange exhaustion.
Then came Nute Gunray’s blockade.
Then came meeting a sweet little boy on Tatooine.
Then came disappointment in the heart of the Republic.
Palpatine’s empty promises.
The Sith.
The death of a Jedi.
And by the end of it all, Padme wasn’t sure she wanted to be Queen any longer, but for the next eight years, she persevered until it was time for a new chapter to begin.
And then…then she met the man from her dreams. Young and sunny. Awkward and gangly.
Anakin. The man from her dreams was little Ani.
And she had seen a future for him, as unlikely as it was, her connection to the force minuscule and entirely unnoticed. And it was full of pain.
She’d never stopped having the dreams, and they had only morphed over time, gained clear edges, became twisting, squelching, alive /things/ within her own mind.
Around the fourth year of her having them, a new character was introduced. This one was taller, in armor that was black from head to toe, and he stood so tall, so much taller than the sunny man in all her other dreams that it hurt her neck to crane up to look at him.
And that was all he would do.
He would simply look down at her, as if in shock.
All the while, the longer that dream went on, the higher her heart rate would go up, contrasting the ever present, ever monotonous, mechanical breathing of the suit he was in.
Somehow, she knew it was the same man. And somehow, she knew that he was in terrible pain.
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Oh look, another hipster kid.
Michael has been accepted! Please submit your blog for us to follow!
out of character info
Name/Alias: Jenn
Pronouns: she/her
Age: 23
Join Our Discord: Yeehhh
Timezone: Central
Activity: 6
Triggers: N/A
Password: randy marsh is a dilf
Character that you’re applying for: Michael “Tall Goth”
Favorite ships for your character: Michael/Katie
Faceclaim: N/A
in character info
Full name: Michael Alexander Henderson
Birthday: October 31st
Orientation: Sexuality and gender are conformist ideas that society forces on everyone to put them in a box forever.
Pronouns: He/Him
Current age: 19
Appearance:
Thick curly black hair, shaven underside that fades. His bangs fall to the left side of his face, just barely covering his eyebrows, which are just as black and thick. You might catch him with stubble to match, but most of the time he is very clean shaven.
He still applies a thin layer of eyeliner, just to make his already pitch black eyes appear even darker in contrast to the whites of his eyes. His eyelashes are short, and if you look hard enough you would see they also curl upwards. His sanpaku eyes are small and sharp.
Both of his ears are pierced heavily, favoring small hoops and dangles over studs. In addition, he has a septum piercing and sternum piercings on his collarbones, two on each. He wouldn’t say no to more holes in his body if the opportunity showed.
His jawline is angled and sharp, with sunken cheeks that make his cheekbones more prominent. His face is long and diamond shaped, much suited to his large nose.
His shoulders are squared and his limbs are long, making him stand at a proud 6’3”. His body is toned without much body fat. His strict meal prepping and his two physically active jobs keep him from growing weak. A rather averagely built man.
His clothing hasn’t changed much since he was a child. His aesthetic is still casual, borderline romantic, with his monochrome palette and ankle length coats. On a regular day, he’d sport his coat, a white button up, black pressed pants and dress shoes. To spice it up, it might wear suspenders.
Personality: Michael was, is, and most likely always will be exhausted with a capital E. He’s lost his effort for living years ago, and now he just lays afloat the sea of life, going where it takes him without much of a complaint. As long as he’s surrounded by the ones he loves most, being the closest to him, he doesn’t care what happens. Going to therapy as a child for his anger issues had helped him mellow out, learning healthy coping mechanisms to control his tendency to express aggressive behavior. Thanks to his therapist, he’s now a thinker, and solves problems logically instead of emotionally. If you were to get on his nerves, he’d still insult and degrade you, but he wouldn’t resort to violence anymore unless provoked first.
Even though he acts like he hates everyone, he still has a sweet side. He is caring and considerate towards his found family, and will, without hesitation, bend over backwards to help them. Michael remembers the little things, which is saying a lot considering his memory isn’t the best. His emotional bond makes up for his lack of physical affection, which he doesn’t participate in unless provoked. There isn’t a doubt out there that he doesn’t cherish the ones closest to him.
History:
The date was October 31st, 2002. A crisp Thursday, at the early hours of 02:04 AM. A baby boy and third child was born to Connor and Naree Henderson. They had many plans for their son, and fully intended on fulfilling them to make their rainbow child a successful young man. He’ll be president one day, they could feel it.
Their beliefs in him strengthened when he had the natural fascination with reading. Even when he developed the need for glasses his eyes were still focused on a page in a book, reading at an incredible speed well above his grade level. His parents fed into this hobby as much as they could, buying him book after book of many things, fiction and non. His future was looking bright and promising until he turned eight years old.
The officials said that the car crash due to weather, but the family knew the truth. His father had crashed into someone because he and his mother were in an argument. Michael couldn’t remember why, honestly. When he thought back to that day, he just saw himself in a hospital bed, unconscious. It was an out of body experience. His mother and father are at his sides and crying, begging him to wake up. He’s too young, his father said, it should have been me. His mother agreed. A couple of months after Michael woke up, his father had moved out of the house. His mother didn't talk about why, and his two older siblings weren't much help either.
The car crash had put a damper on his hobbies, all of his time was dedicated to physical therapy. He lost his school friends, his grades went down, and the idea of him being president was nonexistent. His father and mother were a wreck, which caused their relationship with their youngest child to be one too. His siblings had moved onto college and careers while Michael, age nine, was forced to stay home.
Whenever his father was having a bad time, he would light a cigarette on the back patio of his cheap apartment that Michael visited only sometimes and smoke in silence. Michael had always wondered if it made him feel better. One day, he pocketed Connor’s cigarettes and lighter and skipped school. He instead hung out in a back alley, sat on the staircase, and lit one. 
That one day became several, then a dozen, and then before Michael knew it he had made new friends with similar habits. They talked to each other, listened, and exchanged condolences. He felt grown up now, and he liked it. And as a grown up, he realized it was the worlds fault his life was so fucked up. The nihilistic personality he adopted didn't falter when his parents announced that they would be living together again. "We're going to therapy." Conner had said with a stupid grin on his face, "Aren't you happy?"
"Whatever."
Life didn’t change much after that until he turned 14. High school was full of challenges, and the biggest one was keeping his head down. Puberty was kicking his ass, making him taller and skinnier than the rest. His parents always tried to get him to eat but he could hardly stand to look at them, much less accept anything from them. You need to fill out, they would say. Michael would always scream at them before storming out the door.
When he wasn’t getting in fights at school or smoking around back, he would walk the roads of South Park alone. He hated being in the house when he didn’t need to be. That’s where he met his first love.
Seth knew exactly what to say and when to say it. He completely swept Michael off his feet. He told Michael that he was mature, and smart, and that his parents didn’t know anything about him. He convinced Michael to participate in drinking, light drugs, meeting new people and exploring their relationship. Michael lashed out more at home, picked fights with people who just looked at him, and stopped going to school regularly. He was convinced he was going to run away with Seth, start a new life without anyone else. Seth had told him that there was no one else for him, and he believed it. So when Michael had caught the bastard on their two year anniversary sexting a fourteen year old, his world was shattered.
The fight between the now sixteen year old and his ex-boyfriend was nothing to scoff at. Michael had tried to slip into his room without being noticed, but Naree had the eyes of a hawk and shrieked when she saw him. Michael was too weak to push her off of him when she forced him to sit down on the toilet seat lid and cleaned his wounds. All he could do was blink at her, tired with red, puffy eyes, as she switched from her native language to English in a frantic state. It only got worse when Connor entered the scene. Michael couldn’t think straight with all of the yelling. He tried to get away all night, but they wouldn’t let him out of their sight. After a few days, he finally opened up about what happened, which spiraled in a heart to heart that Michael didn’t know he needed. Connor had looked into local therapists the next day for his son, while Naree held onto him tightly. Michael didn't want her to let go.
His recovery from his experiences, on top of his declining mental state and relationship with his parents, was an uphill battle. His therapist was annoying, but Michael couldn’t seem to weasel his way out of going. Connor and Naree were present through it all. Eventually, he tried to go back to school, but he couldn’t handle the stares and gossip that came with it. His parents allowed him to drop out his second semester of junior year at the young age of seventeen.
For the next two years, Michael would try his best to go back to normal. He stepped up more with his friendships, participated in chores at home, and opened up with his therapist about the things he thinks about the most. He got a job at Benny’s Diner as a waiter soon after dropping out, and when he turned eighteen he got a second job at J.K. Records.
Moving out was a big deal for him. This therapist didn’t fully support the idea, but he felt he had to still get out of the house. As much as he had appreciated his parents’ efforts the past few years, he needed to develop his independence. So, with help from Connor and tears from Naree, he moved out into a tiny, cheap apartment. Perfect for one.
His past is long from healed, and his journey is long from over. But he is willing to wake up every day and fight his battles if it means that one day, it would be.
Headcanons:
Traits and quirks: Easily flustered, competitive, prideful, can express himself better through body language than verbal speaking, hates communication, “whatever” attitude, bookworm, and is an incredibly fast learner.
Addicted to money, will work overtime and double shifts without hesitation just for the extra cash.
Isn’t the most modest person alive, but will have a hard time believing you if you compliment him. A typical response from him would be “Pssh. Yeah, okay.” with an eye roll.
Despite that, he isn’t insecure at all. Truthfully, he just doesn’t care nor think about it. He believes that when people call him ugly, they’re referring to his sense of fashion or personality more than anything else.
He has a white cat named Blair.
Goes to South Korea with his parents on yearly trips. He is a nice conversationalist when it comes to the language, and wants to be well versed in the culture.
Self-taught guitar and piano skills, thanks to his childhood band with his friends. Only sings in the shower nowadays, though.
He feels physical attraction faster than emotional attraction. You’d have to really impress him for him to consider a romantic relationship. Physical, “beneficial” relationships are more common. He’s only been in one romantic relationship before, and that was years ago.
Plays with his earrings when he’s nervous or deep in thought.
Doesn’t take photos of himself. Everyone photo that exists of him was taken by someone else, usually without his permission. If he were to post a photo of himself, his face is usually covered by something either continent or aesthetically pleasing.
In addition to Korean, he practices American sign language in his spare time. 
He was in a car accident as a child, resulting in years of physical therapy and a cane to move around when he needed it. He is much better now, but every now and then he needs to take a rest because of his knee.
If he had stayed in school, he would have loved to do something with literature.
Night Shift waiter at Benny’s Diner, daytime shift lead at J.K. Records. Weekends off unless he’s working overtime.
Blind as a bat without his glasses, but if he’s out of contacts he hardly puts in the effort to put on his frames. They’re thin, black squares.
He has two older siblings. His sister is fifteen years older than him, and his brother is ten years older than him. His parents had tried to have a third child for five years before giving up. They were surprised when they found out they were expecting Michael, but very happy. Because of the age difference and his early rebellious years, Michael does not have very many memories of his siblings, and had always thought of them more as roommates than family. They had both moved out and developed their own successful lives.
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redrorums · 7 months
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Alice in Neo Orleans
Alice Winchester- “Plucky” generally upbeat, but quick to anger and aggressive action/reaction. Also quick to forgive. A tomboy that got that winning, dimpled smile and powerful eyebrows that are constantly in motion as she IS super expressive. Talks with her hands. Talks more when she’s anxious or flabbergasted. Got all that and a boatload of wanderlust from mum. She sees everything as a grand adventure in a very Peter Pan-esque way, as that was her favorite childhood story and the one her mum used to read to her the most. Genuinely wants to “befriend” everyone and thinks only of satisfying her curiosity when approaching a stranger (so she has little to no bias or prejudices going into discourse/relationships…to the point of naivety). On the downside, her seeing potential for friendship in places and people that she lacks the tact/wisdom to interact with can go south real quick. Her brash audacity and careless bantering sometimes gets her and her real friends in a touch of trouble. A dark shade of caramel is how I would describe her skin. She had always been tallish AND stocky, too big for her age. “A bit girthy”, as her tactless father would always say, but now she was buff for some reason. All topped off with a massive, frizzy cloud of unkempt hair (when she initially wakes up from hibernation, at least) raining down and engulfing her pale green left eye, the stark contrast making it shine all the brighter. “Looks kinda like an Envy Zinnia blossom. A fresh one!” pops had once commented offhandedly. When she asked what that was, he just smiled in that irritating *pushes up glasses smugly* kinda way and said she should do the research herself. Her other eye was mechanical and still refusing to open as it’s system was still recovering from the cold, or it would’ve shone a bright golden hue straight through her dense, draping hair. She had specifically requested that her synthetic eye be golden, “cuz it would be badass!” The sterilized stasis maintenance jumpsuit she was wearing looked like something an actor from the 60’s would wear when pretending to be a futuristic cosmonaut. It was a light shade of sky blue, just like the dress of the character her father had demanded she be named after, Alice in Wonderland. She had always disliked Alice, commenting as a child “If it was me, I I I’d just beat up tha FAT-headed Queen and rule wondrousland maself!” with a harUMPH and crossed arms.
“A very Pan-esque thing to say.” Her mum would comment, smiling wryly.
That being taken into account, her favorite color was still sky blue. Thus, pops had colored her stasis suit that way, with a little Thor badge on her right shoulder and a Samurai fighting a Cowboy sticker on the left.
“…A few of my faaav-or-ite thiiings…” she whispered whimsically, continuing to hum the only song from Sound of Music she could ever remember. She stumbled about hazily, still adjusting to the dark laboratory/makeshift stasis chamber her father had built. She slowly realized her suit was way more tight-fitted than when she had went under, and her body felt waaaaaaaaay heavier. Bulkier. She looked down at her forearm and exclaimed,
“OH DAMN!” Pale eye bulging as she saw her now massive biceps stretching the material to its limits. It felt like each individual part of her she moved weighed twenty pounds more. She vaguely remembered her father describing some sort of rejuvenation oooor simulation process built into their pod’s functionality. “To keep us mentally and physically stimulated while we sleep” pops had said before she stopped listening all together, paying more attention to her PlayStation. Then she remembered.
Why she was the only one here.
Why she was alone.
Sven, her godfather and best friend, had murdered her dad.
Right in front of her.
Then he looked her dead in the eyes.
He had smiled as her father’s fresh blood still trickled down her horrified face.
Sven.
C.
English.
Just smiled and laughed.
The panic hit her full force then, bringing her to her knees.
Gameplay/Storyboard
The focuses would be developing Alice’s Evolution, gaining Archetypical Perks based on environmental and character interactions as well as plentiful resource gathering and an absurd number of crafting options.
* The overworld would function like a point and click adventure with Alice being able to highlight more or less objects/creatures based on how Observant her current Archetype is. When hovering over a highlighted object with the cursor, a translucent thought bubble will pop up above Alice’s head and a number of selectable options would appear inside. Combat could be called turn-based, where all engaged will decide their moves in advance. However, all choices made in the individuals’ decision phase will play out SIMULTANEOUSLY in the action phase. Example as follows:
Alice chooses to Attack with Fist (Bludgeon). When done with decision making, you simply wait for the other non-player decisions to be made. The Weakest Sewersauce also chooses to Attack, but with Spewed Blob (bludgeon)(ranged)(status). In the ensuing action phase, they both start to attack one another at the same time, but W. Sewersauce has higher action speed and it’s attack is ranged. This means it’s attack will hit Alice as she moves towards the W. Sewersauce and if her impact resistant is too low, SHE’LL HAVE TO BACKPEDAL *gasp*, ending her action prematurely so she won’t get to attack. All weapons combined with wielder strength have their own Stopping Power. Additionally, forward momentum decreases impact resistance, meaning Alice will be easier to pierce and ultimately take more damage.
ALTERNATIVELY
Alice chooses to React, planning a leftward dodge roll if the enemy attacks her. She has enough leftover Action Points to also plan Pick Up on nearby rock(object) and Attack with rock (bludgeon)(ranged). The Action Phase begins and the W. Sewersauce fires a Spewed Blob, which Alice successfully dodges. She also carries through with the rest of her planned counter, and since she is too far away for a melee with the rock, she’ll AUTOMATICALLY throw it at the target. With her ridiculous strength, the Weakest Sewersauce would not be able to resist impact and Die Immediately.
* AS YOU CAN SEE, planning ahead and awareness of Alice’s surroundings are the keys to victory in these combat engagements (but of course, it is possible to commit to the Barbaric Archetype, greatly increasing your impact resistance and allowing you to steamroll most normal opponents without much forethought at all).
* The overarching aesthetic of Neo Orleans is a bit intentionally confused, as there are a number of cultural and dimensional rifts forming in Orleans society when Alice arrives on scene. Overall, most of the surroundings would look like something out of the 20’s-50’s. The 20’s side of town would be the wealthier, Al’Terran side with more presence/reliance on magic in daily life. The 50’s side would be the “wrong side o’ the tracks”, tracing it’s origin to the Beastblooded Empire. More racially diverse and more technologically advanced, but also more ever present crime and more steeped in poverty (a large immigrant population from all different Realms on that side as well). The two sides would be divided by a literal wall down the middle of the city (yes. The Berlin Wall. Again), with tensions rising on both sides. Some examples of aesthetic…
There are MANY offworlders, though, and people/places/things from off world will have have their own unique styles and vibes. There would be the occasional medieval knight walking right next to a cyberish/steamish punkish goth. An alien tentacular beast floating right next to a wooden ship, itself flying about on magical, fluffy wings. A Norse mead hall right next to an Art Deco style skyscraper. Neo Orleans is meant to be chaotic and unpredictable, a character in and of itself.
Crafting-
All objects in game should be fusion capable, with at least one other basic or complex object.
The terrain, structures, objects (mostly everything) would be divided into invisible cubes that the objects exist inside. Every complex object in the environment, made up of basic objects, applies an impact resistance score to the invisible cube in which they reside. When the appropriate bludgeoning force is applied to trump this score, Alice will be able to theoretically Break pretty much anything and collect some of it’s core components.
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k3ithsk0gane · 2 years
Text
Oka’s persona at S being Foxy or Fennec because of Sketchy and he wears crop tops that are a little see through and short gym shorts
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pascalpanic · 3 years
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Miller Morales Mechanic Shop (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)
Part One of Miller Morales Mechanic Shop
Summary: Something is wrong with your car. What, exactly? You have no clue. So you bring it in to some professionals- who also have a toddler running around the shop.
W/C: 2.3k
Warnings: language, Frankie is a dad, brief mention of divorce and trauma bc poor Frankie, there is a child heavily involved in this so if you don’t like kids this isn’t for you :)
A/N: WELCOME TO PART ONE EVERYONE! This is such a cute AU and I’m BEYOND excited to start sharing it with you all! I don’t know how many parts this will be or anything but I can’t wait to take it and run with it.
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Marisol Morales behaves for very few people. One of those is Ben Miller. Unfortunately, she has decided to break her own rules today.
Frankie loves summer. He loves his little girl playing outside in her baby pool, taking her for walks around the neighborhood with their three-legged dog, all of the fun parts. The hard part is when the nanny goes on a vacation and Mari has to come to work with him.
Benny and Frankie, ever since the chaos that was the Lorea mission, run a small mechanic shop together. Miller Morales Mechanic Shop isn’t necessarily the busiest place in town, but they make enough to get by and have some disposable income too. Mari loves to hang around the shop with her daddy and uncle. She’s there more than Frankie would like, but he supposes it’s not the worst thing in the world. When Frankie and Jules split and Frankie won full custody, he’d hoped a nanny would take care of most everything when Mari is home all day in summer. Sadly, he was in for a rude awakening when no Mary Poppins showed up on his doorstep.
It’s normally not too bad; Benny hung the moon in Mari’s eyes. If she won’t do something for her daddy, which is still somewhat rare, she’ll always do it for her Uncle Benny. That makes the day run much smoother. Mari has a whole host of quiet-time activities and toys to play with, and the men generally trade off periods of either working on the cars or being with the little girl.
Her favorite activities at the shop include drawing on the concrete with thick sticks of chalk and playing with her toy helicopters and planes. Benny insists tanks are cooler, but Mari prefers flying her Polly Pockets in the chopper, running through the garage and making flight noises. She’s a smart little thing; for her age, she’s picked up big words and can make sentences out of three words, which is quite a stretch for a baby just over two years of age. She calls for Benny and Daddy and knows the names of his tools: wench, scu-dwive, and her favorite, win-seeled wipe fwuid. She loves to babble at customers while they get their oil changed.
-
Being shit with cars is no fun. It only increases the anxiety when some light flashes on your dashboard. The lights can mean so many things that you find it ridiculous; “check engine”? Check it for what? To save yourself the anxiety, you find your nearest mechanic and pay them to deal with it.
Today, as you pull over into a gas station, you check your phone and find that the nearest shop is a place you haven’t heard of. It must be new. Miller Morales Mechanic Shop, 0.6 miles away. The name implies something more local and homegrown. You’re more than willing to support a place like that, so you start up the engine, pray you don’t explode, and make your way over to the shop.
It’s nearby, like the map indicated. The outside is a quaint little place, tucked in a strip mall next to a coffee shop, a dentist, and an insurance agency. The three car bays are empty, and knowing next to nothing about how these shops work, you pull inside and park your car, letting it run as you wait for an employee. The bell dinged to let them know you were here, so you stay patient and listen idly to the hum of the talk radio show from your car’s speakers.
After a minute or two pass, you realize that maybe this wasn’t the right place to be. Maybe you were supposed to go in the front or something. Concluding that you probably aren’t where you’re supposed to be, you turn off the car and get out only to be greeted by the sound of buzzing lips.
You can hear a baby’s voice, mimicking some kind of vehicle’s sound, and for a second you’re worried this place must have you hearing things. Then, from a swinging door to the front comes a little girl, running and babbling to herself about her toy helicopter.
She has a head full of dark brown curls, tied back into two puffs with pink scrunchies, and matching pink leggings and a t-shirt far too big for her, the back emblazoned with the shop’s logo. She’s barefoot, tiny feet slapping against the cold cement.
“I told you I had to piss, Fish!” A man’s voice shouts from one end of the garage.
“No you didn’t, dipshit!” Another man shouts back. Being caught in the middle of their argument is quite comical, if you’re being honest with yourself. “She’s fucking two! You can’t leave her alone like that, man!”
The first voice is matched to a person as a tall blonde man emerges from the customer service side of the shop. “Marisol Morales, come here,” he insists sternly as he rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit. “Come on, you’re gonna trip.” Ben is embroidered on a patch over his heart.
She pouts at him before stumbling forward and continuing to run, stopping as she sees you and looking up in confusion. Her lower lip sticks out in a pout as her eyes scan your face, as if she’s trying to remember if she knows who you are. “Hi,” she finally concedes as you bend to her level.
“Hi there,” you smile and hold out a hand. “What’s your name?” You pick her up, holding her on your hip so that she doesn’t trip, like Ben so desperately feared.
The second, unknown voice shouts for the little girl again before boots clunk on concrete up to you, rounding your car and stopping. This must be the girl’s father, you realize, as you rake your eyes up his body. He wears the same navy blue jumpsuit as the other man, though it’s unsnapped over his chest, exposing the white t-shirt beneath. The patch on his chest reads Catfish. He wears a ball cap and warm brown curls peek out from under it. He has scruff and a hooked nose that perfectly matches the one on the little girl. “I Mari,” she introduces herself proudly.
“Hey, leave her alone, Mar,” the man shakes his head as he hoists her up to hold her on his hip. “I’m so sorry about that,” he says with an embarrassed smile, showing a dimple beneath the scruff on his chin.
“No, it’s not a problem,” you laugh then set her down and tell the little girl your name. “Aren’t you just the cutest?” You chuckle as she looks at you. She blushes and buries her face in the man’s chest, giggling shyly.
He looks down at the little girl then up at you again. “Well, uh, hi. I’m Frankie, and you’ve met Mari already.”
“Your daughter?” you ask as you look at the pudgy little girl, who now stares at you in awe.
Frankie nods and adjusts his ball cap, pushing his hair back with it. “Yep. Our nanny is on vacation, so she gets to hang out around here,” he chuckles and kisses her head, setting her down. “Go see Benny, yeah?” He asks her. She happily waddles off towards the blonde man, who gives you a wave then heads into the back. “What brings you in?”
“Would you laugh if I told you I don’t really know?” You admit with a shy smile. “My check engine light came on while I was on the highway. I don’t know the first thing about cars, so I was hoping you’d figure out what that meant.”
“Nah, no laughing here,” he nods and gives you a genuine smile before looking over at your car. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I’ll have you pop the hood for me and I’ll give it a look?” He asks.
“That would be great. Thank you,” you tell him, the desperation for his help in your voice. Now that you get the chance to really look at him, he’s quite attractive. His eyes are deep set and a beautiful brown, and they crinkle when he smiles. Facial expressions only accentuate the lines in his face, but he’s certainly not old. His eyes still hold his youth.
“No problem.” He leads you to the car and you pop the hood open before getting out. “Could I take your keys?” he asks you. “Just so I can turn it on and off and all that good stuff.”
“Yeah, of course,” you nod frantically and hand them over to him. “I’ll… be in the waiting room?”
“That’s how we usually do it,” he chuckles as he takes the keys from you. “Just shout for Benny if Mari annoys you again.”
That makes you frown. “She’s not annoying at all. She’s adorable,” you smile as you look over your shoulder and see her and the blonde man playing together.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” he laughs and points his wrench at you as he walks to the hood of the car.
Shaking your head, you can’t help but laugh as you head back to the waiting room. You walk in and Mari perks up, turning to look at you. “Hi! Playing helicopter,” she tells you in her stunted speech as she holds up the toy.
“You sure are,” you nod and sit next to her. “Can I play?” You ask, looking up at Benny, silently asking him the question too.
He nods and Mari squeals happily. “Friend!” She shrieks and hands you another helicopter. “Go pew pew, okay?” She drags them across the toy mat like they’re cars, and you follow suit.
“Okay,” you laugh. Looking up at the blonde man, you extend a smile his way and introduce yourself. He’s busy repairing a Barbie dollhouse with a screwdriver.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ben, Benny, whatever you wanna call me.”
Driving your helicopter around the ground, following Mari’s lead, you chuckle. “No preference?”
“Fish calls me Benny.”
“Fish?” You ask and tip your head.
“Frankie, whatever. We’re buddies from the service. His code name was Catfish,” the man explains with a shrug, testing the hinges of the plastic door.
That makes you smile down at Frankie’s daughter. “Really, just buddies? Could’ve sworn you’d be brothers,” you tease the blonde, blue-eyed man. “Does Frankie know how to do his daughter’s hair?” You ask and fiddle with her two pigtails.
“Yes, he does,” Frankie insists as he walks out to the front, cleaning a wrench. “But just barely.”
You look up at him, embarrassed. “Her pigtails just look a little messy. Then again, she was running around like crazy,” you laugh and watch her rush over to Frankie, insisting he pick her up.
Bending down to grab her, Frankie groans at the ache in his joints. “She was. I could use some pointers, if you’ve got ‘em.”
“Of course,” you nod and stand too, brushing the dust from the concrete floor off on your pants. “What’s the verdict on the car?” You ask.
Frankie turned, watching as Benny walks out to the shop, but he turns back to face you. “Oh, right. The engine was misfiring, and unburned fuel was being put into the exhaust system, and that damaged the catalytic converter.”
You nod as you listen to him, really staring at his face more than anything. He’s just so damn pretty, you note as you admire the curve of his nose, his slightly sunken and dark eyes. His lips look beautiful and soft, even though they seem a little chapped. When he stops talking, it takes you a second to process it. “I don’t know what that means,” you admit with a shy smile. “I told you. I don’t know shit about cars,” you laugh, playing it off like you were lost when you were really lost in his eyes.
He shakes his head and laughs, bouncing Mari on his hip. “Your car is gonna need some work. Couple hours,” he shrugs. “If Benny and I get to working on it together, an hour and a half, maybe?” He admits.
“Yeah, that’s great. I can watch Mari,” you offer.
Frankie would never be this trusting normally. You’re a straight-up stranger, but your demeanor is good enough for him. Besides, you’re right here. He can check on the two of you every so often, and Mari seems to love you. “That would be great,” he smiles. “You really don’t have to.”
“No, I have nothing better to do,” you chuckle and look at the little girl. “You wanna play?”
Mari nods excitedly and Frankie sets her down. She rushes back to her toy mat and you watch her go. “Thank you, again, for fixing all this.”
“Just doing my job,” he nods. This time, it’s his turn to admire you. He stares at your face, examining the curves and angles that make you up. Your eyes are kind and warm as they follow the little girl, and he can see that he’s making a good choice here.
When you sit down, Mari comes and sits cross-legged across from you. “What are we gonna play?” You ask her, looking at her wide variety of toys. Her pile includes dinosaurs, Matchbox cars, lots of toy helicopters and planes, Barbie dolls, and a plastic tea set.
“Tea party!” She says and hands you a tiny plastic cup and a felt muffin.
“Oh my goodness,” you gasp in a fake accent. “How delightful!”
Frankie peeks over his shoulder at the two of you. He could really get used to that sight.
-
taglist:
@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @deltadebelleza @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal @wintermuteway @maievdenoir @dobbyjen @beskarboobs
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lokischambermaid · 3 years
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A God Can Hold His Liquor: Part 2 - We’re Past The Pleasantries.
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Summary: So…. This is awkward. After helping a VERY desperate Loki to relieve himself in his cell, you escape together. You’re now stuck on a very long walk to his base underneath New York. What the hell are you going to say to him? What’s he going to say? He was SO vulnerable - is he going to address it, make light of it, ignore it completely? Or be a total arsehole as a defense mechanism? All will be revealed!
Pairing: Loki x Female Reader
Word Count: 2,200
Warnings: Strong language throughout & above the cut line.
Contains: Flirtation, teasing, Loki being a wise MF.
Author’s Note: This is a continuation of A God Can Hold His Liquor. However, if you’re not into that kink (holding, desperation, omorashi), this chapter doesn’t contain it. If you like Sassy!Loki, there’s something for you here.
Author’s Note II: The first couple of paragraphs and the way they escape the cell are meant to be comedic, but genuinely read like trash. It gets better after that, promise!
Also: Major homage to Frostbite in this one.
***
“Where are we going?”
You grimaced at the sound of your own whine as you followed Loki down the tunnel. If it annoyed you, it was definitely annoying him. And patience already wasn’t his strong suit.
You had made your way out of the cell, without Loki’s master escape plan. While he was asleep, you noticed the red light on the door flashing. You elbowed him and he woke up with a grumble. He’s grumpy when he wakes up, well colour me surprised, you thought. Almost simultaneously, you both noticed the smell of burning plastic and a small plume of smoke coming from the base of the locked WC. Loki started to chuckle. Fate loves irony. The circuitry to the cell was located immediately below the would-be restroom. Loki’s, ahem, liquids, had tampered with the electrics. “You literally couldn’t make this shit up,” you said aloud. His grin faded and he stayed stock still, his eyes darting from left to right, viewing all sides of the glass cage. No agents. Loki moved quickly to the glass door, eyes meticulously sizing up every seal around the glass, running his long fingers along the edges, checking for anything that would trip an alarm. With one small pull, the door slid open. With a silent flick of his hand towards you, you followed him. Seconds later, you saw personnel running towards the cell, having seen the smoke alarms on their systems. “Run.” You followed him.
And here you were, in the tunnel. Brown stone, damp, dripping. Musty. How the hell he even found it from the facility was a mystery. Unless there was some connection between top-secret government facilities and top-secret underground bunkers. It was possible. Anything was possible. You were running through a tunnel underneath the streets of New York with a terrorist from outer space. Who you had just helped to…
Best not to think about it.
“I told you. We’re going to my facility. We need the Tesseract.”
“The who?”
He sighed. “The Tesseract isn’t a person, it’s a…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
More tunnel-trundling later, and you had questions. “Where are you from, anyway?”
This prompted an unexpected laugh from your new ally. “I think we passed the stage of pleasantries after you placed your hand on my cock, my dear.”
Your face flamed. Fuck.
Well, hey. They say cock on his planet. Good to know.
“In my defence, I sort of had to.”
“I’m sorry it was such trouble, little one.” His tone was playful. Mocking, almost. But surprisingly buoyant. “Many would feel rather honoured to place their hands on me.” He turned and gave you that wickedly hot grin.
“I, erm… you know, I… I didn’t want to touch you if it – I mean, I tried to be respectful, you couldn’t exactly give consent in your state and I – ”
“Hush, little one. I must admit, I rather enjoyed it. You have wonderfully soft little hands.”
You had caught up to his pace, but stopped still at this revelation. He stopped walking and turned to you. Your flushed face caused him to grin once more. Then, he lowered his voice, as if he was attempting to not frighten you. “We mustn’t dwell on it. It was… pleasant for me. I trust it wasn’t too unpleasant for you.”
You shook your head.
“Good.” He started walking again. You followed.
Using humour as a defence mechanism. Got it. And I guess he’s dodged the questions on where he’s from.
You kept walking. It was another hundred steps or so before he spoke.
“Asgard is the name of my realm. It’s located at the top of the nine realms. I am born of Jotunheim. My lineage is the Frost Giants. Laufey’s son.”
Matter-of-fact.
You raised your eyebrows, your eyes wide, and shook your head. Was all of that supposed to mean something?
“Okay, so…” You really didn’t want to sound like a moron. He already thought you were some weak mortal, no need to pour gasoline on the fire. “So… where is… Asgard… in relation to earth? Did I, erm… say it right?”
There was a lilt in his voice, “Yes, your pronunciation of my home is acceptable.” His pace remained fast and his gaze held forward as he made a come hither gesture with his hand. You jogged a little and caught up, walking by his side. He glanced over at you. “Asgard is located at the most northern point of the nine realms. Midgard – which you call Earth – is located directly underneath it.”
No wonder he has such an attitude. Earth is literally beneath him.
“And you travel in… like a spaceship?”
His laugh reached what you’d come to know as his third gear. More than a chuckle, but not quite a full belly laugh.
“No. We stopped using those thousands of years ago. Long before my time. We use the Bifrost.”
You took a deep inhale of air.
I’m really going to start pissing him off with all these questions. How can I ask this in a way where I don’t sound like a caveman in comparison to his people?
“Is there an equivalent to the Bifrost here? Something I’d maybe be familiar with?”
Bi… Frost. You smiled to yourself. He’s bi. And he’s a frost giant. Bi-Frost. That’s actually kind of funny. I’m hilarious. Or using my own humour to cope with –
“It’s similar to an Einstein Rosen Bridge.” He turned to you when you fell silent. “I believe you may call it a wormhole.”
“Oh. OH, shit…”
“It’s amusing to you, mortal.”
“No, no, I… I just always thought it was more than a theory, you know?”
He looked over at you and squinted. That slightly smug look you had grown to almost tolerate.
“If you believe it’s a theory, you won’t build the technology to permit it to come to fruition.”
“Well yes, that’s what I say! I mean, I don’t say it quite as elegantly as you, but… I keep saying, we haven’t found alien life yet because we go, Oh we don’t have the technology therefore it’s not possible. But it won’t be possible if we keep saying that. Humans are so fucking arrogant sometimes.”
“On that, we agree.”
That smile again.
“Tell me, mortal. You think of me an alien. And yet your species rape, murder and pillage, and have done so for thousands of years.”
“I can’t disagree with that. Your… people… they seem… kind of enlightened. Like you’re ahead of us. In so many ways.”
“Yes.”
“Do they all look like you?”
“Asgardians?”
“Yes.”
“What do you mean.”
“Well… you know.” You gestured up and down at him with both hands. “Like this.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
Was he fishing for compliments?
“Well…” Hot, you wanted to say. “You know, tall, dark, gorgeous. Impossibly sexy.” You smiled. “Wearing a little too much leather.”
His tongue ran up over the cupid’s bow on his top lip. His lips curled up. Trying to hide his amusement was futile.
“It’s quite kinky, you know.” You grinned at him.
“We have an abundance of chains on Asgard,” he said with such a deep rich tone that it sent shivers down your body. “It seems that in my realm, and in Midgard, the sexual thrill of power stands the test of time.”
Good to know Asgardians are into some kinky shit.
“Well it’s like I always say,” you said, gesturing in front of though as though you were pointing to a headline on an imaginary billboard. “Equality in the streets, consensual inequality in the sheets.”
Fourth gear laugh.
Maybe on the fifth gear, he’ll fuck me.
WAIT. Where did that come from?
“That being said. I’m not Asgardian.”
“Hmmm?”
“You asked if everyone on Asgard looks like me. I’m Jotun.”
“Oh…”
He caught the disappointed tone in your voice.
“So… you’re the only hot one. People in Asgard are ugly, then?”
“Hardly.” He rolled his eyes at the next words. “Many think my brother to be quite dashing.”
Fuck, he has a brother? Could this possibly get any better?
“And what does he look like, this brother of yours?”
Your tone was more flirtatious than you expected. Loki’s smile fell. His lips formed a perfectly straight line.
“Thor.” He almost spat the word. “He’s been on your news with his little friends.”
“Ohhh… him.” Your tone fell, obviously disappointed.
Loki’s lips drew up at the corners. “He’s not appealing to you?”
“God no.”
He looked at you, searching your features for any hint of deception. He found none. “And why not?”
“Just not my thing. And honestly… he seems kind of vanilla.”
“You are a little minx, mortal.” He viewed you through narrowed eyes.
“Oh you have no idea.”
You had been walking for what seemed like forever. Whatever this tunnel was, it definitely wasn’t a shortcut.
“There are many other differences, of course.”
“Hmmm?”
“You asked about the differences, between Midgard and my people. You thought us more advanced.”
“Yeah. You seem enlightened in some way.”
“I suppose so.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You would like to hear of our technology?”
“Yes please.” Your enthusiasm warmed him.
“Anything in particular?”
“Erm... yes. That thing you did with my arm. The green light. You’re a healer, right?”
“No.”
“Then what was it?”
“Magic.”
Any other time, you would have laughed. But apparently, the fictional was now the actual. The fables had become reality. “Magic,” you repeated, rolling the word around on your tongue.
Her tone holds no disrespect. Tell her, Loki.
“My mother taught me. Queen Frigga.”
You noticed how every feature on his face softened when he said her name.
“She taught me simple tricks at first, and then helped me to master what many deem impossible. She was a patient tutor.”
“She sounds amazing,” you said honestly.
“She is.”
“She’s a healer then?”
“She’s a… hmm. Some call her a witch.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“It isn’t. I prefer to call her a Sorceress.”
He smiled proudly. You smiled back.
“And how do you heal on Asgard? Do you have hospitals?”
He tried his best not to scoff. “Midgard’s modern medicine is a sham. Pumping your fragile body full of chemicals will never bring about vitality.”
This motherfucker is wise.
“We have healing stones. And a soul forge, which moves energy around the physical and spiritual vessel.”
“We call them crystals here. And, quantum healing.”
He frowned. “How do you know about that?”
“What, the quantum?”
“Yes. It’s considered pure nonsense by the majority of you.”
“Not by me. I think there’s a lot we don’t understand. And I think science is overrated.”
“Science is created by humans. It’s limited, like so many of you are. In Asgard, we draw our power and wisdom from the stars. And the Gods.”
That makes sense. Hmmm. It’s like having my own personal guru and protector rolled into one. Now that we’ve gone past the stage of him threatening to kill me.
“You’re a God, right?” You glanced up at him, still pondering the fact that he looked so human.
“Correct.”
“So you’re powerful.”
“Yes.”
“I have a question…”
“You have lots of questions, little one.”
“True. So you keep calling me mortal. Does that mean… you’re not mortal? That you live forever?”
He chewed on his bottom lip in thought. “My Father and I staunchly disagree on this topic. He says, we’re mortal, as we live and die just like humans. I disagree.”
“And what do you think?”
How often he craved to hear that question in his homeland. What do you think, Loki?
He smiled warmly. “I think one cannot be called mortal, if one lives for five thousand years.”
“I’m sorry WHAT!”
I didn’t hear that right. I can’t have heard that right.
“Five thou- five THOUSAND YEARS?”
His grin was smug. “Yes.”
“So… wait, how old are you then?”
“Guess.” His grin was pure mischief.
“I literally have no idea.”
“Fine. You’re no fun.” You were sure you saw him pouting. “I was born in 985 A.D.”
You rolled your eyes up as you crunched the numbers. You looked back at him when you reached your calculation. “NO.”
“Oh yes.”
“You can’t be – ”
“One thousand and twenty-seven, to be exact.”
“Fuck me…”
“Is that a request?” He chuckled.
You slapped the back of your hand against the leather of his chest. “No it’s a statement of shock and awe, as you well know.”
Don’t play the ‘Oh I’m not from here’ with me, Sir.
“So you’re over a thousand years old.”
“I think we’ve laboured the point enough, mortal.”
“Sorry, it’s just… it’s a lot to take in.”
“I understand.” He stopped walking. He placed his hands behind his back authoritatively, tilted his chin upwards and looked down at you with intrigue. Yep he looks like a God right now. “What’s your life expectancy these days? It must have increased to several centuries, surely.”
“What? No. God, no. We get to a hundred if we’re lucky.”
“They’re lying to you,” he said flatly, as he continued walking, his hands remaining clasped behind his back.
“Who?”
“Whoever it is who states you can barely reach a century. You are prophesised to have reached at least three hundred by this time in history. You are falling behind.”
“I’ll have a word with our leaders, then.”
He offered you a wink. You weren’t sure why.
Feisty little mortal. I like her.
(read the next part: Contains x reader omorashi)
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itgirlification · 3 years
Text
supermodel | jjk
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the last three months have been hell for you, but Jungkook seemed to be living his best life.
pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader
warnings: explicit mentions of body image and insecurities, infidelity, anal sex, oral (male receive), foul language (kinda), etc.
now playing: supermodel by sza
part two part three
Exactly three months ago, your and Jungkook’s 2 years relationship officially ended. Unofficially, it ended about 5 months ago. And for about one month now, Jungkook’s been seeing someone else.
Your heart and mind told you not to do it but you couldn’t help calculating. Three months ago, you were still dating, two months later, he started dating someone else. That must mean he’s known her for a while. Did he cheat on you with her? Well, it’s not like it matters now anyway, does it?
Her name was Yuki, an undeniable Japanese beauty. You were still in college, studying music and she was a famous model who appeared in internationally known magazines. You assumed she met Jungkook during a photoshoot since he was a professional photographer who often worked for companies like Vogue and Playboy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to her.
It wasn’t the fact that he moved on so quickly that hurt you the most. It was the fact that he knew all about your low self-esteem and how you lack confidence. Especially about your body. And he still went and dated a model, of all professions in the world. He was definitely over you.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he did it on purpose. But thankfully, you knew better, he looked too happy for that to be even considered. He forgot about you.
You’re making yourself sadder by remembering all the times he assured you you were beautiful and your body was nothing to be ashamed of. The times he let his fingertips run over the lines of your stretch marks, whispering in your ear how much he loved them and how they reminded him of Tiger stripes. The times he caressed your jiggly thighs and told you how sexy he thought they were.
Then your mind would drift back to the phone in your hand, the Instagram page of Yuki Sakurai opened, careful not to accidentally like anything and expose yourself. Not that she’d notice anyway, she had 3.7 million followers, while you had a private one with 500 followers and no posts, and she gets around 300 to 700 thousand likes on each post, depending on whether she posts random photos or pretty pictures of herself. Or newly, your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Oh, how crazy everybody goes whenever she posts him. People love them together. You couldn’t blame them. Two attractive people? Of course, they’re gonna look great together.
Fucking great.
That the end of your relationship with Jungkook would look like this was semi-predictable from the beginning. He did admit to you that he never thought he’d date someone that looked like you when you first dated. And your heart broke a little. But he also made up for it in those two years, it was a beautiful relationship nonetheless.
While you weren’t exactly his ‘ideal’ type, he was definitely yours. You always heard from other women ‘when in a relationship, the man always has to love the woman more than she loves him. Otherwise, it won’t work.’ You never really got the saying until your breakup with Jungkook happened. It was the fact that you clearly loved Jungkook more than he loved you that lead to this.
“Oh my goodness!”, your roommate, Jane, dramatically exclaimed. “Will you stop feeling bad for yourself and do something? That’s not what hot girls do, sis.”
Jane was a lovely girl with a not so lovely temper. She always means well and you got along perfectly as soon as you met. Which was around 3 and a half years ago.
She looked over your shoulder to see what you were looking at. You obviously didn’t want her to see you snooping around your ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s Instagram but it was too late.
“Seriously, yn?”, she took your phone in her hand and threw it on the bed. “Let’s go somewhere, you can’t do this to yourself anymore. I’m not letting you.”
Jane was clearly worried about you at this point. The only thing you did these last few weeks was eating, shower, cry, sleep and miss a whole bunch of classes. This wasn’t good at all.
“Where?”, your question was short.
“To the mall? Or the nail studio? Anything that’ll get you out of this fucking dormitory.”, Jane sighed, pulling the blanket off of you, making you whine a little. “C’mon, go put on some cute outfit and we’ll go.”
You felt bad since she was trying hard to make you feel better. But it didn’t really work.
You nodded, standing up from the bed, nonetheless. You picked out a cute two-piece dress, that brought back blurred memories of the time you went on a date with Jungkook, wearing the same two-piece. Bet Yuki would look cuter in this...
‘Shut your petty ass up, yn. It’s embarrassing, the way you’re stuck on a taken guy who wants nothing to do with you’
You wish you could change the way you think, even if it’s just for an hour or two. You wish you would stop imagining Jungkook judging you when he saw you naked or when you told him that you wished you could cut off some of your fat with a pair of scissors.
You were beyond ashamed of yourself. Why wasn’t it easy for you to just stay by yourself? why were you so desperately in need of Jungkook by your side to the point where you’d lock yourself in your room for a month just because he isn’t there?
You needed Jungkook. You became so attached to him in those two years, because you always saw him as a permanent, a forever. Not just a temporary, not just a distant memory. You already saw him as the father of your children, as the man you’re gonna marry.
You were so blinded by the fact that you had him, that you forgot you could lose him anytime.
“I’m done, let’s go.”, unenthusiastically, you announced to Jane, who was already waiting for you.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here!”, In contrast to your spirit, hers seemed to be all roses and daisies. “Lord knows you need it...”
__________
“Look at this cute ass skirt, girl”, Jane pointed at a chic, wine mini skirt she was holding. “You know, when I saw it back there I wanted to have it, but it’d look so much better on you”
You took a few seconds to admire Jane’s beauty. She was about 3 cm taller than you, had a great posture, and almond, dark brown eyes that suited her dark skin tone perfectly. Her body leaned more towards the slimmer side.
“Shut up! No, it would not”, you let out a small giggle. “It would look gorgeous on you, buy it.”
She smiled a little at your laughs. She was happy to see you at least a little cheerful again. “Yeah, but I think it’d look better on you. I’m entitled to my own opinion, am I not?”
You knew this debate was gonna go back and forth, because of her stubbornness. “Let’s both buy the skirt.”
You ended up doing so, added by a bunch of bags full of clothing. This may’ve turned into your new coping mechanism. Who needed therapy when you can go on a shopping spree?
Two hours were spent in boutiques and clothing stores and Jane decided she was tired, wanting to visit the local spa.
“No, seriously, these Riverdale seasons just keep on getting worse and worse. Netflix needs to step up their game ASAP”, Jane ranted, making you laugh at how serious she takes it. “It’s getting embarrassing. I’m being for real.”
The two of you were sitting in the whirlpool at the spa, relaxing your whole bodies a little.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t watch these new Netflix shows anyways. Been stuck on the vampire diaries for the last 7 years”, you chuckled, knowing you hated trying new things. “Can you pass me one of those magazines?”
Jane nodded, grabbing a random one from the table next to her and handed it to you, without looking at it.
The cover of it caught your eyes immediately. How could it not, when your ex’s new girl looks absolutely dazzling on the front page of it.
‘Supermodel Yuki Sakurai talks summer fashion tips, struggle with self-love and most importantly, her hot, new boyfriend the media is going crazy over’ was the headline of the Harper’s Bazaar Magazine cover.
You felt your stomach getting sick and your breath getting heavier, but you still flipped the pages until you found the one with her interview. You began reading it, skipping the boring parts.
‘Int: so, we see you have a new boyfriend. Tell us, how did you guys meet?
Yuki: Yeah, he’s an amazing guy. We actually met about six or five months ago at one of my photoshoots, since he’s a photographer and we exchanged numbers and stuff, and then we made it official mid last month.’
About six or five months ago? You were with him back then, but her answer was too unclear to find out if he cheated or not.
“Woah, yn, you okay?”
You entirely forgot about the fact that you were with Jane, let alone somewhere other than your bed.
Before you could react, Jane snatched the magazine out of your hand.
“You really can’t escape them, huh?”, She sighs, taking you in her arm. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. In a few months, you’re gonna look back to this and think wow I really was stuck on a guy who’s scared of microwaves and cried like a bitch when Iron Man died.”
You laughed, punching her arm playfully. “You know, I actually love these things about him. Shows his sensitivity and the way he perceives things.”
Jane looked at you as if she didn’t believe you were actually saying that stuff. “Girl, you’re overanalyzing this. Let’s just throw this shit in the trash, okay?”
She put the magazine aside.
“I just don't know what I did wrong.”, You murmured. “I know we weren't the best, but we didn't even fight that much. We could’ve talked it through.”
Jane pursed her lips and cooed. “You know, relationships are complicated sometimes. The reason why he broke up, to begin with, is probably not your fault.”
“Well, what if it is? I mean what if I was too fat or too ugly for him?”, you asked. “If he wanted a skinny girl so bad, I could’ve lost weight for him, I don’t get it.”
Jane looked at you like you lost your mind entirely. “I can’t believe you just said that! Even if that was the reason, which it wasn’t, you shouldn’t make yourself suffer because of it. That’s his loss. You’re beyond gorgeous and you have an amazing body.”
“You’re just saying that.”, tears slowly started coming up in your eyes. “But the thing is Jungkook knows all about my insecurities. Why would he do that to me? I know he knows that I’m still not over him.”
You usually didn’t like crying in front of other people, but you didn’t really care at the moment, besides that was Jane. You trusted her with your life.
“Girl, men are trash, I can’t believe you’re crying over one right now, seriously.”, she wiped your tears and held your face between her hands. “You know, honestly, I’ve read so many articles about how models actually hate themselves and have like the lowest self-esteem so in conclusion, no matter how miserable you are, his new girl is even more miserable.”
You knew Jane didn’t mean it in a harmful way, but it sounded harsher than needed. “I don’t hate her, she probably doesn’t even know about me. I’m just really insecure. He upgraded from me. He’s dating a whole model now.”
The situation just felt like a deja vu of these last few weeks laying in your bed, even though you were at the spa with your friend. You were supposed to have fun, yet you didn’t feel like having any.
“Why would you feel insecure when all you’ve seen of her are Instagram posts and red carpet pictures? She’s supposed to look beautiful, it’s her job.”
To a certain extent, Jane was right, but that didn’t really help your situation, you still felt bad about yourself. You stayed silent.
“C’mon, this isn’t fun anymore. Let’s leave.”, Jane mumbled.
_______
it’s been two days since the incident at the spa and you felt a little bit better now.
Those days were spent reading the same three book series you’ve read your entire life, overthinking, hot Cheetos, Indian takeout, and Netflix. It really wasn’t as miserable as it sounded.
You were just taking a little rest before term break ends and you have to go back to the shithole college again.
Jane was using the time until college starts again, but in different ways than you were. She was planning on going to some frat party in an hour and forget about the world’ for a minute. Or till 4 in the morning, where she will most likely drunk call you and ask you for a ride back to the dorms, because the friends she went to the party with were shit-faced as well and were in no way capable of driving anywhere without the cops stopping them.
Going out partying on a Friday night was a Jane tradition. In the past, you’d sometimes go with her, but you mostly spent your time out with Jungkook doing something more fun than partying could ever be. Now you can’t do that anymore, but laying in bed is more ideal than a party for you at the moment.
“How do I look?”, Jane twirled around to show off her black cocktail dress. She looked beautiful.
“You look beautiful.”, you responded to her question. “Are you leaving now?”
“Hm”, she said, to which you nodded. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me? It’s gonna be really fun.”
You shook your head no.
“Alright”, she shrugged, making her way out of your bedroom. “But I told you, it’s gonna be fun.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll stay here, I have shit to do.”
“Yeah, right, like binge-watching the vampire diaries and taking 5-hour naps”, she said in a sarcastic tone. “Anyway, bye-bye, Vic’s already waiting for me in the car.”
Victoria was perhaps one of the most obnoxious people you know, yet she was too much of a nice person for you to talk shit about her. The voice of your intrusive thoughts couldn’t help but to, though.
“Alright, bye, take care and say hi to Vic from me.”
After Jane left, an hour went by like it was just a couple of minutes. You were starting to get real bored and decided to watch some regular tv in hopes to find something you enjoy. You ended up not finding anything fun, but you still watched it, because you didn’t have anything else to do.
A few moments later, the doorbell rang and you were suddenly worried. Either this is a serial killer or Jane forgot something.
But to your surprise, it was neither, but it was none other than
“Jungkook?”, truly, those were the only words you were able to mutter out at your shocked state. “What are you do-“
At the speed of light, you were interrupted by your ex-boyfriend pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t say a word.
You weren’t expecting him. Not knowing how you were supposed to feel at the moment, you just let it happen. You were sure your mental state couldn’t get any worse than that, no matter how this will affect you in the end.
“Is Jane home?”, for the first time in 3 months, you’re hearing his silky voice again.
Jungkook knew Jane always had some type of special hatred for him with her killing stares and her bitter comments. You didn’t notice either though.
He also knew she must hate him even more after your breakup. Or maybe she liked him more now since she was able to get rid of him without killing anyone.
“No”, your answer was short and it made a weight fall from Jungkook’s shoulders before he continued kissing you.
It wasn’t anything you haven’t done before, yet it felt like it’s been ages since it last happened. Your mind drifted to the thought of Jungkook and his model girlfriend. You were asking yourself what their sex life was like, if she was tighter than you or if she had stretch marks and scars.
Jungkook’s lips were moving south, giving your neck wet kisses, while you were wondering why he broke up with his model girlfriend. Or if he even did. You felt selfish for not caring.
Removing your clothes one by one, you were left in your underwear, while Jungkook only had his boxers on.
This body was yours. You knew it inside out. Where he liked to get touched and where he preferred not to. You knew him better than anyone else. You were sure.
You already moved to your bedroom, since Jungkook effortlessly carried you there. You were sat on his lap, facing him and your hands were in his messy hair. His hands were around your waist, he was slightly smiling into the kiss, as you started grinding on him. He loved how easy it was for him to turn you on. You were still his.
Cutting off the kiss, he looked you in the eyes, while his hand was on your cheek. “Say aah.”, he said.
You widened your mouth obediently, which was followed by him collecting as much saliva as he could in his mouth and spitting it into your mouth.
“Swallow.”, demanding, he spit on your face, his eyes become darker with every passing moment. You did as he said.
You looked at him with big eyes. He knew you loved it. You’ve always had a thing for him degrading and humiliating you during sex.
He started grinding on you almost desperately. You knew exactly what he wanted.
Getting out of his grip, you dropped to your knees and freed his hard dick from his drawers. You reached for it and started pumping it, and licking it. Your spit was leaking down his dick as you used it for lubrication. Then you started sucking on it, just the way you used to.
Jungkook’s groans and satisfied sighs were enough to make you even wetter than before. You enjoyed giving more than receiving.
Your mouth was wet and warm around him, giving him a feeling of familiarity. You lick over the tip a few times, then proceed to fully take him into your mouth.
The bulge in your throat could be seen and the way your eyes were tearing up a little wasn’t bothering you at all. You loved giving.
Jungkook started thrusting in and out of your warm, welcoming mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat multiple times.
“Fuck”, a throaty moan left Jungkook’s mouth, giving you hints that he was about to cum. And he did, releasing in your mouth before you swallowed it. “Shit, baby, that was so good.”
You felt your face heat up and a sheepish smile made its way to your face. Your throat was sore.
The two of you were on the bed again. To you, it felt like it was the times before your breakup again, when you’d purposely start an argument just for the makeup sex because Jungkook wasn’t giving you any anymore. It was like sex was the only thing to look forward to.
You felt attached to Jungkook to a point where it was dangerous. You weren’t okay when he wasn’t around. He affected every part of your life and God knew it wasn’t always a positive thing. Maybe it was the fact that he took your virginity. Maybe because he was your first boyfriend, the first guy that made you believe you were worthy of love and that someone was actually capable of loving you. One thing you knew was Jungkook had an expansive influence on your life.
While you were practically drowning in your own thoughts, Jungkook was busy taking off your underwear.
“You okay?”, Jungkook calmly asked you, looking at your riddled face.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay.”, you sounded distracted, Jungkook wasn’t sure about asking you what it is though. He didn’t feel like getting personal.
So he shrugged it off and started kissing you again, his dick was unsurprisingly hard again as he played with your tits. He drew lines over the stretch marks of your thighs and kissed them.
“Can I fuck your ass?”, Jungkook’s raspy, tired-sounding voice casually asked, to which you quickly nodded, knowing that Jungkook’s favorite position had always been anal. He was massaging and gripping your ass firmly.
“This is gonna hurt at first, but I promise it gets better.”, He warned calmly into your ear, while putting some lube on his dick and just went right into your ass, slowly thrusting so you don’t feel as much pain.
He was right, it did hurt a lot when he first put it in, but the pain just changed into pleasure in a matter of time and his slow-paced thrusts helped with the adjustment.
“Fuck, I missed this ass”, he practically growled into your ear, as he kept on thrusting in and out, steadily gripping your wide hips with his big, veiny hands. “It just doesn’t feel right when I’m inside her ass.”
You knew your confidence shouldn’t rely on Jungkook bringing his girlfriend down, but you couldn’t help but feel good about your body when he said that. It’s been a while since you felt even a tiny spark of confidence. You weren’t so fond of him mentioning her while he was inside of you.
Your soft moans rang through the whole room like sirens, while he watched your ass jiggle against his pelvis, thrusting in and out faster every second. He missed this.
You had always thought you were indecisive, but you knew exactly what you wanted. You just couldn’t have that, so you’d eventually have to settle for less.
Jungkook wasn’t to blame for it, you just couldn’t concede your shortcomings. The movie’s villain wasn’t always the real villain.
Your hands traveled to your pussy to make sure you’d orgasm as well, when you heard Jungkook’s breathing getting heavier and his thrusts getting gentler than before, indicating that he was gonna cum soon. You were certain he could make you cum with just anal, but you wanted to cum with him.
With furrowed eyebrows and drops of sweat dripping down his body, Jungkook looked down at your arched back. The whole scene was sticky, especially when Jungkook presses his upper body to your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and kissing the spot.
It was kinda odd, having sex with your ex-boyfriend you were crying over just a day ago. There was a certain intensity to it though. Like your long-lasting nostalgia was finally fulfilled.
You’ve realized you couldn’t imagine yourself being intimate with anybody else. Jungkook already knew your body, how it looked without the material protecting it, the strawberry skin, the slightly sagging breasts you swore you’d surgically remove once you had the chance to but didn’t. He knew where you liked being touched, he was the first one to even touch you in those places.
You were unsure what you’d do with yourself when he leaves.
Jungkook’s thrusts slowly started stopping and you too felt the familiar sensation in your stomach.
Suddenly, you two were nothing but desire, fear, and pleasure. And faster than you could process, you came together.
For minutes after your orgasm, you were just laying on the bed, thoughtless. Maybe a little regretful. Not you, but him.
You weren’t facing each other, but you could hear each other’s breathing. Your stomach was filled with something you’d describe as post-sex melancholia.
All of a sudden, Jungkook stood up from the bed, startling your resting self a little, but you decided to keep quiet, wanting to see what he was going to do.
He made his way to the door to leave what he thought was your sleeping body laying there. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore.
“Where are you going?”, your soft voice suddenly rang in his ears. “Don’t you wanna stay?”
He didn’t know how exactly to tell you. You’ve always been a gullible little girl, you were the type of girl to think fucking equals love. Little did you know that wasn’t the case at all.
“Yn.... you know I can’t”, Jungkook responded, you knew it wasn’t gonna be good when he said your name like that. “I got a girl at home and I don’t wanna mess shit up with her.”
There it was. Your suspicion was corroborated. He was still going out with the model and you were a certified home wrecker. Great.
You physically felt your heart breaking. “Bu- but why are you here then?”
You were incapable of being mad at him at the moment. It was your fault for letting him in, again. After breaking your trust and your heart.
“This was a mistake”, he declared, not looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yn...”
He’s moved past your room now, already at the exit of your dormitory. He was about to leave.
“You already ruined shit with her when you came here and fucked me.”, your voice was small, but your words were heard.
Without looking back, he left.
And you went back to your room, standing in the middle of it for a minute in silence before your brain fully processed what had happened and your tears started pouring.
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yunkiwii · 3 years
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—i miss you even when you're here—
pairing: bf!seungmin x fem!reader
genre: angst, fluff, established relationship
wc: ~2.7k
warnings: feeling of abandonment, loneliness, stress, insecurities
⇢ requested by @leihey ♡ i hope this lives up to your expectations!
summary: for seven days y/n has been feeling lonely as her boyfriend spends all his time either at work or thinking about work.
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You turn your alarm off without even looking at it, huffing before reaching your arm to the left side of the bed, and the way it lands straight out into the wrinkled sheets with a muffled sound confirms what you expected but still hoped wouldn't happen today - waking up alone.
For the past week Seungmin would get home late to a long asleep girlfriend at their shared bed, and a plate of cold food on the kitchen table. On the other hand, you would wake to an already empty bed and a faint memory of a forehead kiss, one you wondered if it were real or just a lucid dream.
For seven days you have spent your time either at work or alone at home, carefully thinking what meal would cheer up your boyfriend the most after a long stressful day at JYPE, missing the way he would always cut the onions because he knew you were more sensitive than him to the burning feeling in your eyes and would cry easily, missing how the kitchen always felt so small for the two of you to cook together, his hands constantly on your waist as a way to tell you to "scootch over", not wanting to interrupt his singing to tell you verbally.
For seven days you have been cooking alone, cooking for someone you didn't know would show up in time or not. And whenever he did - he didn't - being his presence merely physical, greeting kisses placed on your cheeks, lips and forehead in a mechanical way, a force of habit. For seven days your kitchen felt too big, too quiet and the onions made you cry more than usual.
At the eighth day you couldn't take it anymore, and when you heard the doorknob of your front door creaking, just as you were setting the table - for two -, you had to take three deep breaths, the words you had organized and planned out started to get mixed up in your brain, creating a mess you couldn't control anymore and so, as soon as you see Seungmin entering the kitchen you can only say three words, "I love you."
"I love you too, silly." he chuckles as his lips peck yours quickly, "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about so desperatly?", he waves his phone, referring to the text you sent him earlier. He didn't look annoyed at you for making him come home earlier than it was usual lately, but he still seemed off, and the bags under his eyes screamed "exhaustion" the same way the marks your tears left on your cheeks did too.
You watch him as he eats, unable to do so too yourself, the lump in your throat growing as you hear Seungmin's muffled voice thanking you for the meal with his mouth full and a light squeeze on your thigh. And you wondered if you were being unfair, if you were being selfish, because he was allowed to be stressed about his work, he was allowed to not be at his best all the time, and it wasn't his fault he had to stay until late at night at work. But it was his fault that he couldn't leave work when he got home, that he couldn't put his phone down and ask how your day was, to just take ten minutes of his day to just be with you, and you only. And you were allowed to miss him, miss his touch, miss the way he held you tightly at the end of the day while you watched the most random tv show together, because it wasn't the show that matter but each other's company.
And, without realizing it, you had already spilled all of this to him before the kitchen dropped dead silent again, and everything went blurry. You couldn't even see his face, not until his hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs cleaned your tears as you mumbled quietly, "I'm sorry, I- I just miss you."
"But I'm right here (y/n)...", he pulls your chair closer until your knees touch, taking your hand in his while the other lifts your chin so your eyes meet, "Let's go on a date tomorrow, yeah? I'll get off earlier and pick you up. You'll wear that fancy outfit you've had in your wardrobe for ages, and I'll put on a nice suit and tie. What do you say?"
And in the eighth night you went to bed feeling a little warmer inside, his back turned to you didn't hurt as much now that your hand rested on his side and his shirt was worn by you. Knowing - hoping - that tomorrow will be better, you fall deep into dreamland as soon as you shut your eyes.
However, you couldn't help but to feel abandoned again when, hours later, a cold breeze hits your stomach and arms, making you mumble something in your sleep as you try to recover whatever was blocking that breeze before. One of your hands gets a grip of a soft fabric that seems too heavy to pull back down next to you, leaving your sleepy self whining for the owner of said fabric not to leave again.
"I will be back later, don't forget I'll pick you up for dinner. Go back to sleep now, (y/n)."
But how could you forget about dinner with him when, for the last eight days it was all you were longing for, and for the nineth day it was all you could think about?
Said day passed by slower than ever, an illusion caused by the clear anticipation you felt about the upcoming night. Anticipation addressed by your colleagues at work, who wondered what has sent your head into cloud 9 and your right leg into a fidgeting state, unable to stay still.
These same nervous actions continued at home, the funny feeling in your stomach resembling the very first date you had with Seungmin a few years ago, back when you were still a college student and he wasn't as busy as now. The same thoughts you had that day invading your restless mind again, "What if he doesn't like me (anymore)?", "What if he thinks I am (got) boring?", "What if my outfit doesn't fit?".
With that last thought you rush to your bedroom - but not without tripping on the first step of the staircase - to, in desperate clumsy movements, try out the said outfit you've been wanting to wear for so long, the one Seungmin got you for a "special date" months ago, one that never happened. But it did fit, it fitted better than ever and when you saw your reflection in the mirror even you fell in love with the person in front of you, the one doing little swirls with a stupid smile on her face, the person you doubted to be yourself. And, suddenly, you felt like everything would be alright, everything would go back to normal, maybe things would get even better than before, "there is no way he'll fall out of love for me when I look like this" was your first thought.
But he didn't even seem to notice your appearance, he didn't seem to notice you at all, he simply picked you up at the agreed time with a peck on your lips and one single rose in hand. All he did was drive you - in silence - to the fanciest restaurant in town, leave you alone at the table about three times to pick up the phone - "it's from work, I'm sorry" -, pay for both your meals and drive you back home.
And it took him to hear the quiet sobs you so hardly tried to keep in, while laying as far away as possible from him that you had to secure yourself from falling over the edge, to realize what he had been doing to you, to finally figure out how much he has been hurting you. And in that moment his sobs could be heard too. The realisation and guilt hit Seungmin like a truck and he couldn't move. He couldn't believe how he had let his stress and excessive work load affect you too. He couldn't believe he had reached a point to where he brought work home, one thing he had promised you he would never do. And his chest tights up a bit more when he realises you never got mad at him for breaking his promise, and breathing gets difficult when he faces you - your back.
"(Y/N)...", and your stomach drops five feet down at his cracked, low tone, and "I'm so sorry..." was all he could say before bursting into silent tears once more.
However, you were too hurt to face him, and the burn in your eyes increases when you feel the mattress sink behind you before a warm hand rests on your waist, but you don't push him away.
The nineth night was his the turning point, and Seungmin swore to your asleep self - and to himself - that the next morning would mark a new beginning.
And in the first morning you pretended to be asleep when his hand took a few strands of hair off your face, his lips barely touched your skin and his voice broke your heart, "see you later". And you held your breath until the bedroom door closed and stood still until the front door locked. But it took longer today, and in between these two moments you heard noise in the kitchen, and within a few minutes a nice smell made its way into your hiding place, as if it was trying to lure you to give in and face your boyfriend. But not even your grunting stomach stopped you from waiting to hear his car drive off to get up. And when you did, the curiosity took over you. He never cooks in the morning, and he never leaves this late. Something was changing after all.
Hence, in the first night, you shifted your body to face him when he quietly climbed in bed next to you, your left cheek pressed against your hands as a weak smile greeted the tired boy, "I appreciated the breakfast." Nevertheless, you didn't reach out to pinch his cheek the way you used to, though you had the urge to do so when his own lips drew a smile and his eyes got lost in his cheeks.
In the second morning you didn't pretend to be asleep and you didn't wait for the car to leave. In the second morning you sat at the kitchen table with Seungmin and, because he knew it would take you time to go back to him, he didn't force a conversation, he didn't force skinship, he merely held your hand and squeezed it lightly. And you knew he was trying, you knew he would try and wait until you were ready to trust him again, to give him your heart again.
Day by day you would slowly give him little pieces of you, by sharing the most small and insignificant stories of your day, by letting him hold your hand at night, by sharing earpods with him on the couch when you couldn't fall asleep, by letting him try and do all the things he shouldn't have stopped doing in the first place.
But it took you seven days and seven pieces to trust him with your heart again. Therefore, on the seventh day, as the the sunbeams peaked through the poorly closed shutters and reflected on Seungmin's bare shoulders, you couldn't help yourself from admiring him and, for the first time in seven days, you felt warm inside. The butterflies you used to feel the first times you woke up next to him were back, and were more annoying than ever.
You let yourself study all his features attentively, scanning all his perfect imperfections, letting yourself fall for him all over again - not that you think you ever fell out of love, but rather disconnected from it, and him.
He flinched and mumbled confused words, and you couldn't help but to smile and giggle softly at how silly your sleepy, drooling nonense-speaking boyfriend looked. This time, you gave in to the urge of pinching his cheek tenderly as to not wake him up, and you left your hand resting there as your thumb rubbed his soft skin.
As you were feeling your eyes becoming heavy again, your thumb stopped the movement and your hand slid down a bit. Your body relaxing more and more, until a ticklish feeling pulled you back to the "here and now", just to find Seungmin kissing the palm of your hand with his eyes still closed before pulling you closer to him, making you wince and giggle when his warm breath hit your ear and his raspy voice gave you his "good morning's".
He moved his body sloppily, hitting you with his elbow before comfortably positioning half of his body on top of yours, resting his head on the crook of your neck as he held you tightly by your waist, as if he were afraid you would run away.
"I missed you Seungmin, I missed you even when you were here." Your fingers got lost in his messy hair as you spoke, his grip on you grew tighter and you felt the tears peaking in the corner of your eyes. "You hurt me... and I thought about leaving you before you left me first."
For the first time you were letting him know how you truly felt, for the first time you were opening yourself up to him without any ounce of shame or fear. And this was your turning point. This was the moment you both knew you were back, ready to mend all the wrongs and the scattered pieces of your hearts that were left all around the house. "But everyone makes mistakes. And I know you have been trying, and-", Seungmin shifts his body once more, supporting himself with his hands as he is now hovering over you with his eyes locked in yours, a restless look in his face worried about what you would say next, and suddenly you feel shy, "What I mean to say is, I forgive you. I choose to stay and love you even if my mind won't let me believe that you love me back, I will trust you and your actions. So please don't let my mind trick me again, don't give it reasons to doubt your love for me unless you don't feel it anymore."
You pull his hair back waiting for a reaction, leaving your hand to rest behind his neck ready to pull him in for a kiss, the first real kiss in sixteen days. But you wait for what it feels to be an eternity, until he breaks the silence and mends the last piece of your heart when he reassures his love for you and vows to reassure you every single day until the rest of your lives.
And when you finally pull him in he loses balance and falls on top of you, his forehead hits your nose and just like that the house is filled up with laughter again, the onions don't make you cry anymore, the kitchen shrank and the fancy dates became late night movie marathons with you snuggled on Seungmin, or Seungmin snuggled on you, until you were far too tired to walk upstairs, leading to countless nights spent on the tiny couch and countless mornings with complaints about aching bodies but happy souls.
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nets: @k-library @ficscafe @k-dinernet @districtninewriters
taglist: @dreamwrld @su-lix @bobateastay @leihey @serialee @hyunsluvv
⇢ let me know if you want to be added to the taglist ♡
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saynotoshityouhate · 3 years
Text
Taking Back Control
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Summary: Bucky’s owning his traumatic narrative and taking his life into his own hands. I’m not sure his therapist would approve. 
Word Count: 1,549
Tags/Warnings: Poor stress relief tips, Mind Control, dom!bucky, trauma, therapy, oral (male receiving), facial (not the kind you get at the spa), aftercare
Bucky had texted you as he got ready to leave the office. 
I’ll be home in thirty minutes. Prepare yourself. 
You had been eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s on the couch, still in your PJs, when your phone chimed. “Fuck!” You read the text and scrambled to stand up. You rushed to clean up your mess from earlier before jumping into the shower. He expected you to be squeaky clean before he’d lay even his mechanical hand on you. You also set up your aftercare supplies, making it as easy for Bucky to take care of you as possible. With nervous excitement, you put on his favorite lacy, black lingerie that made you look like a sexy assassin. It was sorta his thing. 
Bucky got into his blacked out Mercedes and raced home. He had a really difficult day at work and knowing he’d be able to see you and have some control over something today was already providing him with some relief. After “graduating” from Wakanda and his Winter Soldier related trauma, he sought to take life into his own two hands - especially the vibranium one. He began learning the science behind mind control - similar to what was utilized on him. You two had been dating for two years at that time, and looking for a way to spice things up in the bedroom. Bucky brought the idea of erotic mind control to you one night, explaining how everything would work, and why it was important for him to try as part of his healing process. He walked you through all of the ground rules and was open to hearing all of your questions and concerns. You loved him and were willing to try anything once. 
Well, one time turned into two, and two turned into three. Now, about a year later, you were going under once a month, for no longer than an hour. He was extremely protective of you, regardless of the pleasure it brought him. You noticed a difference in him, a calmness that wasn’t always present in stressful times earlier in your relationship. He was never hurtful towards you, of course not, but his coping mechanisms for the loudness in his head weren’t healthy either. This allowed him to take back his own narrative and process his internal struggles with you by his side. 
You resumed your movie, as if nothing had changed from earlier, the pint of Hunka Hulka Burnin Fudge almost empty. Nothing had changed other than your outfit and the butterflies in your stomach. Bucky liked you to be calm and relaxed before getting started - not anxious or uncomfortable. He found it to be easier to implement the triggers when you were more comfortable. 
Bucky pulled into the driveway, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and exited, walking towards the front door. He carried the stress of the day in his shoulders, draped in an exquisite blue suit and crisp white dress shirt. He had already removed his tie in the car, opening the top two buttons. He ran his hands through his hair before walking inside. 
Your eyes got wide seeing him walk through the door. You smiled at him, face turning to concern as he ignored you, kicking off his dress shoes and whipping off his suit coat. You could see the tension rippling through his back muscles underneath the white button down. He looked back at you and whipped his mechanical arm around, as if to stretch the shoulder joint in preparation. You sat up straighter at that, adjusting the lingerie that had shifted as you lounged on the couch. 
Moving his eyes over to you, his gaze softened as he looked you over. You really were beautiful, he knew that from the first time he saw you. “Ready?” He asked, giving you one last chance to back out of the evening’s activities. You nodded your head in agreement as he made his way over to you. “You know I need to hear you say it, doll. Use those pretty words of yours.” He looked down at you, one eyebrow raised sternly. “Yes, Mr. Barnes. I am ready.” You winked at him. He sat down next to you on the couch, taking both of your hands into his and looked directly into your eyes. His crystal blue eyes were hidden by the darkest black pupils, highlighted by bloodshot whites indicating his increased stress level. “I love you,” he stated clearly, squeezing your hands in punctuation. “I love you too, Buck.” “Alright, let’s begin.”
“Rain.” The smell of an impending rainstorm was one of your favorite things. 
“Fern.” The first gift Bucky got you for your birthday, when you thought you had a green thumb. 
“Crewneck.” The sweatshirt Bucky lets you wear to bed that smells like him. 
“Nashville.” Your favorite city in the world and first place you and Bucky went on vacation together. 
“Butterfly.” The tattoo on your right shoulder you got on a drunken night out in college. 
“Subway.” The place Bucky told you he loved you for the first time. 
“Doll?” Bucky cocked his head to the side, looking into your eyes to see if you were still awake. 
“Ready to comply.” 
Your body was relaxed, but at attention. You maintained your eye contact with Bucky, awaiting instructions. Looking at his wrist watch to note the time, he gave your hands a final squeeze. Standing up, he brought you with him. “Remove my clothing.” “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” 
You dropped his hands and began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. You pulled it from his arms and shoulders before neatly folding it and placing it on the coffee table. You repeated this step for his undershirt before unbuckling his belt and placing that to the side. “Kneel,” he commanded. “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Moving to your knees, you unbuttoned his dress pants. Moving the zipper downward, Bucky’s hips jutted forward with just the slightest touch of your fingers on his hardened length. You slid his pants downwards, and while still on your knees, you helped him step out of the pants and folded them as well. Placing them to the side, Bucky became inpatient. “Quicker movements, doll.” You snapped to attention. “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Grabbing the waistband of his boxers, you ripped them down his legs, freeing his cock in the process. Bucky groaned as you resumed your folding and placing of clothing items. 
“Open your mouth.” “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Your jaw relaxed, and wasting no time Bucky moved himself into your warm, salivating mouth. Bucky moaned, his head lolling back. He absolutely loved this feeling. He moved his hands to the back of your head, gently moving you in time with his hip thrusts. You gagged, eyes watering and saliva pooling in the corners of your mouth. Even under mind control, your body wasn’t made to handle his size and strength. “Play with my balls,” Bucky grunted, sensing he was getting close. “Yeff, Merrr Brunss,” you replied, mouth too full to clearly speak but still following your directives. You moved your right hand underneath him, feeling for his warm, tightening balls, which you kneaded and squeezed. “Fuuuuck yes, doll, you feel so good,” Bucky moaned, his hips stuttering with the new sensation. 
“Prepare yourself.” Bucky growled the command. Mumbling your acknowledgment, you moved your hand from his balls and placed them on your thighs. You sat back on your heels, his cock falling from your mouth along with a mixture of saliva and pre-cum. You leaned your head back slightly, closing your eyes and keeping your mouth open. Bucky moved his mechanical hand up and down his shaft, gazing with hazy eyes upon his compliant, beautiful doll. How did he possibly get so lucky to have a woman like you to love. And with that thought, Bucky groaned, painting your face with his load. You stayed still, waiting for your next direction, despite the cum dripping into the corners of your eyes and falling from your chin onto your chest. 
Bucky looked at his watch. It hadn’t been an hour yet, but he was already exhausted from the day. He was ready for you to come back to him, the real you. Bucky reached over to the side table, where you had placed water and towels before he got home. He handed you a wet towel. “Clean off your face.” “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” 
After wiping your face clean, Bucky lifted you to a standing position. Holding your hands, he walked you over to the couch, where he began reciting your trigger words in the opposite order. 
“Doll? Come back to me, doll.” You smiled up at him, his shoulders sloped downwards, a sheen across his forehead and chest from the exertion. “Hi.” Bucky leaned in, kissing you deeply. “How do you feel, are you okay?” He held your face in his hands as he wiped away some leftover spend from your cheeks. “Of course, darling,” you replied. “I’m going to go wash my face. You get dressed and then we’ll have some dinner, okay?” He smiled and squeezed your hands again as you stood up to walk away. 
You chuckled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. He’d never find out you were never really under his control.
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bookishofalder · 3 years
Text
Night Changes [Four]
Summary: Desire and darkness consume Poe and the reader, leaving them with only one goal. In the aftermath, years of pain and grief finally surface. 
Warnings: 18+ Sex Pollen=dubcon/noncon smut. Dark themes, mild violence/injury descriptions, language, angst, fluff. WC: 10,551
A/N: SURPRISE! One day early because I love you all and got my shit together this week. PLEASE NOTE the red banners are visual cuts you can use to skip the dark smut should you prefer to! 
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Poe stood next to Charlie on the tarmac, waiting impatiently with his stomach in knots of excitement and anticipation. Even Charlie was shifting from foot to foot, uncharacteristically quiet while watching the transport ship slowly landing. When it hit the ground and the flight intake crew moved forward to help with debarking, he tossed Poe his signature grin.
“Ready, Flyboy?”
Poe laughed, “What does that even mean?” He glanced down at his shirt, straightening it for the tenth time before smoothing his hair carefully. “It’s been two years, I’d have gone to pick her up myself if they would have let me.”
“That’s my point,” His friend replied smoothly, raising a brow at Poe, who gazed back at his best friend, bewildered. “Two years apart, barely been able to speak with her, you keep her picture in your inner pocket here,” He tapped Poe over the heart, where the picture would be if he was in his flight suit, “You two are the most clueless lovebirds, I swear. Don’t hold back on my account.”
Glancing at the ship to see the ramp still hadn't lowered, Poe frowned, a rush of emotions swirling within. “You...uh, knew how I-?”
Charlie clapped Poe on the shoulder, “Isn’t there a term for it? Soulmates, I think. Yeah.”
“Charlie, I don’t think-“
Charlie rolled his eyes, “I’m not saying anything else about it, don’t worry. Just wanted you to know I understand why you took so long picking the perfect shade of sand shirt to wear under your jacket.”
Poe hummed in response, stunned by the casual way his friend spoke like everything was inevitable. He wasn’t so sure, though he’d always thought the term ‘soulmate’ could apply to platonic relationships. And while he was pretty sure he’d never just felt platonic toward you in any sense, Poe wasn’t going to get his hopes up that you actually may return his feelings.
Two years ago, Poe had held you the entire night before his and Charlie’s departure for D’Qar, cried along with you over how impossible it felt to part, to not see each other every day when his life had been wrapped around yours since as long as he could remember. He had left a part of himself there with you on Yavin-4, and now you were about to disembark your transport ship and unknowingly hand it back to him by simply being with him, real and tangible.
He was nervous to see you, he didn’t know why. Maybe Charlie’s words were only highlighting Poe’s own concerns now that you were mere moments away. He had barely even been able to get in contact with you for two years, he and Charlie were far enough away and regularly over-worked that it was impossible to do as much as they both would have liked. What if you climbed off of this ship as a completely different person? Perhaps things wouldn’t be as easy and natural between you both now, after so long apart. 
He’d gotten through these past two years without you knowing he would always have his memories of you, that before he knew it you would be with him-and Charlie-again, and new memories could be made. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Regardless, the last thing Poe was going to do when he finally had you back was confessing his feelings and risk fucking everything up straight off the cuff. He’d lived with these feelings for a long time, he could continue to do so now.
Lost in his thoughts, Charlie suddenly stood taller next to Poe, who glanced at his friend to find he was beaming toward the transport ship. Following his gaze, he first saw that the ramp was down and many of the passengers were now splitting away meeting friends and family. It only took him a moment from then to locate you.
The moment his eyes landed on you, excitedly bouncing down the ramp with a duffel bag over your shoulder, eyes searching wildly around, Poe felt every single worry melt, and a heavyweight on his shoulders seemed to lift away. You still looked like you, and stars were you ever beautiful, the loveliest woman-because, you were a woman now, not a kid, not a goofy teenager-he’d ever laid eyes on. He drank you in, during those moments you hadn’t yet spotted Charlie’s waving arm. Two years had given your curves a new classification, a reverence within Poe rising as he gazed briefly in surprise at the swell of your breasts, the fullness in your hips.
He could...drop to the ground right here and declare his undying love for you, just for coming back to him with that same fucking perfect smile. Just for the way your eyes finally found him and Charlie and you lit up like a sun, bathing everyone lucky enough to be within your presence in your warm glow. It was a fucking sight, a moment that he would never forget; you grinning and then hurrying forward through the crowd. Your duffel bag hit the ground just seconds before you were throwing yourself toward your brother and Poe, who each expected exactly what you would do and easily stepped forward and caught you. Crushing you between them in an embrace that felt so whole, so entirely right. Poe felt for the first time in two years as though he were home.
Wherever in the galaxy Poe went, if he had you with him it would be home.
“Oh stars, kriffing STARS,” You were squealing, an arm wrapped behind each of their necks to hold yourself up, your lips peppering warm kisses between them each, “I’ve missed you both so much, my best guys!” You had a few happy tears on your cheeks now, Poe noticed when you leant your head to his and pressed your forehead to his own, repeating the affectionate greeting with Charlie.
“Kid, fuck it’s good to see you,” Charlie’s voice was thick with emotion, but his eyes were much drier than both yours and Poe’s. “How was the trip?”
“Maker, Charlie, Poe-you’re both so tall!” You laughed, realizing you were dangling a few inches above the ground as they held on to you. Poe liked the way he could feel your laughter as your body moved against him; as though you were passing it to him. “The trip was fine, crap food but I had a nice elder lady as my seat-mate. Reminded me of mum.”
They set you down, though Charlie was stroking your hair out of your face and Poe kept his hand on your waist, unable to let you go and lose the sensation of you finally, finally in his arms again. He never wanted to be apart from you for that long again, not if he could help it. 
“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it home for mum’s funeral,” Charlie murmured, an apology he’d repeated many times since your mother’s passing a few months prior.
“Hey,” You smiled sadly, “You two spent a lot of credits to holo-call in for it, that meant a lot to me. You know mum would have been livid if you’d abandoned your duties just for her.” Still, a few more tears slipped down your cheeks and Poe reached up with his free hand to gently wipe them away as Charlie nodded solemnly, opening his mouth to respond when-
“Horn! Hey, come meet my brother!” The three of you glanced around, Poe recognizing one of the mechanics Charlie was friendly with waving him over. Pressing a quick kiss to your temple and assuring you he’d be right back, Charlie hurried away to greet the mechanic and his brother.
When you turned to peer back up at Poe, your grin wide and eyes seemingly doing their own assessment of him, he realized that this was now the first time you’d been alone together since that night two years ago. Feeling his face flush, Poe tugged you close against him and pressed his lips to the top of your head. You certainly hadn’t gotten any taller yourself, now especially small in his embrace. Something about the realization settled warm in his belly, but he pushed the thoughts away.
“Missed you so much, sweetheart,” He whispered, pulling back slightly to look down into your eyes again. Your expression was a little shy, as though you were pleasantly caught off guard by his affection, “How have you been, really?”
You had your hands pressed against his chest as you smiled up at him. “Good, glad to be here finally. Yavin-4 didn’t feel like home anymore after mum,” You trailed off, eyes falling and brightening somewhat as you gazed at his chest. “Poe, you got uh,” You slide your hands across the expanse of him and Poe had to work to keep himself from gasping at the sensation of it as heat coiled within him, “Like, big? Broad. Wow, oh and less scruffy, too!” You added, eyes swinging back up to his clean-shaven jawline.
Poe made a noise of embarrassment at your words, smiling at you shyly. Reaching up with one hand, you stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Dousing fuel on the fire within him, the motion was so second nature, intimate, comforting, that he really could have gathered you in his arms right there and pressed his lips to yours. He wanted to ask you if you realized how much he fucking loved you, if you had any idea what you did to him, body and soul and mind consumed and controlled by you and only ever you.
Instead, taking a deep breath, Poe shifted himself away from you casually, leaning at the same time to bring his head level to yours, his nose scrunched, “And you are exactly as short as I remember. Actually, might be shorter with my extra couple of inches now.”
“Rude,” You laughed, playfully smacking his shoulder, whatever tension that had just been present now gone. Your eyes strayed away from Poe’s to look all around at what you could see of the Rebel base here on the tarmac, your gaze landing almost hungrily on a nearby x-wing before jumping to watch as several flew overhead; the current patrol.
He watched you in adoration as you drank in your first real glimpse of the Resistance, your eyes widened in wonder and excitement that Poe had felt too the moment he’d arrived on D’Qar.
But in truth, it didn’t compare to what he was feeling right now.
Poe reached up and stroked your cheek, “Welcome home, (y/n).”  
MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER
“Commander.” You stepped out of the cockpit, your hands twisting in front of you nervously. Poe looked up from where he sat on the bottom bunk. “We’re safely in hyperspace. Autopilot engaged.” You kept your voice soft, as if afraid he would startle.
Or maybe you were afraid of him now. He wouldn’t blame you.
Rather than replying, Poe simply made a noise that was meant to be confirmation he had heard you but it came out strangled enough that it sounded like he was in pain. And he was in agony but he was trying to hold it all back, figure out how to forget.
Did there exist a plant that could make him fucking forget?
He watched as your face twisted before you dropped to your knees in front of him, his body stiffening when you pushed between his legs. Your hands came to rest gently on his cheeks as Poe met your eyes, their expression mirroring his own; pain, regret. But there was something more there, though it hurt him to see it: concern.
“Poe,” Your voice was soft and Poe felt himself tremble in response, unwilling to accept your kindness. “Please, Poe. You didn’t do anything wro-“
Poe jerked himself out of your hold, leaning back as you remained crouched before him, your hands falling to his thighs to keep steady. “Didn’t do anything wrong?” He breathed, watching you look up at him. “I keep hurting you. All I do is hurt you, (y/n). Don’t tell me everything is okay.”
MISSION DAY FOUR
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Desire.
It was...the only thing you could feel anymore. All there was. Nothing else in your mind, like it had been scraped of every memory, every morsel of you and the only thing that remained was this burning, intense thirst. It was fucking incredible, there was no pain anymore, the heat felt like it belonged, that you were designed for the sole purpose of allowing it to burn you. When you set your gaze to the man before you, you could see that he was burning too.
Poe, with his dark eyes and heaving chest, moved quickly-almost too quickly, and you wondered if the pollen gave humans a physical boost. It would make sense because when he was suddenly lifting you and thrusting you against the stone wall, you didn’t feel it. There was only pleasure, no pain, no disorientation, but fuck the feel of his hands finally on you was exactly what you needed. The relief of his touch was enough to have you craving more, more now, now!
As if reading your mind, he was swiftly peeling your layers of gear off, ripping and tossing the material, tugging off your boots, one hand holding you against the wall and it wasn’t until he was sliding your pants down that you realized you were dangling a few feet above the ground. So there was definitely some juice to the pollen. Something about that realization made your toes curl in anticipation.
“Please, please fuck me, I can’t wait another minute,” You heard yourself begging, and dark Poe smirked, pulling his clothing off before adjusting his grip on you. Now, his hand slid down to roughly hold your ass, pressing his body against yours so closely you were supported between him and the wall. You wrapped your legs around his hips, moaning at the feel of his erection pressed into your thigh, and you glanced down to watch as he lined himself up with your cunt.
And stars, he was huge, the biggest you’d ever had. Thick and veiny, you let out the filthiest moan just looking at his cock, your sounds morphing into screams when he tilted his hips and thrust into you completely in one swift motion. Filling you. Growling as he claimed you entirely.
It should have hurt. Even with how wet you were, being split open and filled so brutally should be agonizing but it felt amazing. You could hear yourself demanding he never stops once he began a fast, harsh pace. Your head knocked back into the wall and you still felt no discomfort, not with dark Poe surrounding you, filling you so perfectly. One of his hands did shoot up and grip your jaw, pressing your head into the wall so that you couldn’t look anywhere but at him.
He was feral, his expression greedy and dangerous and it only made you clench around him. “Fuck,” He groaned both hands tightening their hold on your hip and face, “G-going to fucking ruin you for any other cock, little girl. Fucking brat, always so mean, and now you’re begging for me to fill you up, aren’t you?”
You were delirious with pleasure, his words shot straight to your pussy, but you still managed to reply. “Want you to...fill me up, use me, just n-never stop fucking me.” He growled at your words and pressed his lips to yours, his hand on your jaw forcing your mouth to open so that he could lick into you, taste you and swallow your whimpers and moans for more. After a few minutes of this pace, you felt the coil you hadn’t realize was tightening suddenly snap, and you gushed all over his cock as you had your first orgasm.
“Oh maker, I’m cumming, fuck!” But even as you came, crashing through wave after wave, dark Poe didn’t let up and you didn’t feel even remotely spent. An orgasm of that magnitude should have had you passing out; instead, you screamed for more.
+
Poe couldn’t get enough of your body, tight pussy clenched around him as he took you in every position. He didn’t feel tired, sore, and despite having already filled you several times with his seed, his erection hadn’t worn off. You allowed him to roughly handle you into whatever pose he felt like, though you would curse if he took too long, and then mewl when he’d enter you again and begin harshly pounding you. Those dark eyes of yours always focused on him, taunting him. Begging him to claim you.
He was behind you on the floor now, one hand gripping your hip and the other pressed into your lower back, forcing you to arch for him. You were screaming for more even as he relentlessly slammed into you and he only grinned at the idea of giving you what you wanted. He smacked your ass to punctuate every other word, “So fucking tight! Such a good little slut, taking all my cum, you want more now?” He slapped you one last time as his hips slowed, his orgasm tearing through him and pulling another from you and he cursed aloud at how fucking good it felt when you squeezed his cock during your high.
“More, fuck, more!” You whined moments later, even as his forward thrusts forced out the excessive amount of cum he’d filled you with. It was hot, the visual alone enough to hold his attention as you wiggled against him and begged.
“Good little slut, taking me so well,” He moaned, leaning over your back and nipping marks into your neck. When he rose back up, he pulled you with him so that you were flush against his chest as he picked up the pace again. The new angle seemed to hit something inside you differently, as your renewed screams were filling the room within seconds. “Such a perfect body, look at these tits.” He whispered into your ear, one hand cupping your breast and pinching your nipple.
You came again, drenching his cock and before you even stopped moaning from the high you were asking for more.
And fuck, he was going to give you more.
+
Hours, it had definitely been hours. At least six, you thought, if the light from filtering from the hall was anything to go by. The sun was different on this planet, never fully setting, so from your best knowledge you guessed Poe and you had been fucking for a good six hours, minimum.
It wasn’t enough. You hoped it never stopped. Maybe it wouldn’t.
It still didn’t hurt. Each orgasm wasn’t yet enough. You could see rather than feel the bruises on your skin, the cuts on your knees and hands from the rough ground. Even when Poe spanked you, the bite was momentary and delicious. This high was simply incredible. The sensation of him coating your insides with thick ropes of cum was forever engrained in your mind now.
You were riding him now; had been for the last few orgasms. He liked letting you do the work even though it didn’t feel like work-and watched as you rolled your hips and bounced for him, his hands occasionally reaching up to play with your tits. When he would come, he would grab your hips and slam you down, his strength preventing you from moving as he filled you deep, usually pulling your orgasm along with him because he was just so fucking sexy groaning for you.
“Like riding me, little girl?” He growled, releasing your hips and allowing you to start moving again. This time, you braced your hands on his chest so that you could change the angle, moaning when his thick cock dragged along your walls in the most perfect way. Kriff.
“Love it, never stopping,” You gasped, the room loud with the noises you each made and the sounds your cum stuffed pussy made each time he entered you. “Fuck, so fucking good.”
You sunk yourself onto his cock for a long time, watching his face as he filled you over and over, and still, it wasn’t enough.
Was it ever going to be enough?
+
Poe could see you were cock drunk, your grasp on Basic slipping to the point where you simply whimpered out short phrases, some of them entirely unintelligible. It was incredible, seeing you bent over the table, stuffed full of his cock and unable to articulate properly how good it felt.
“Oh fuck, here you go, take my cum,” He snapped his hips forwards and came, his grip on your hips like steel, holding you in place to take every last drop. You came moments later, your orgasm soaking him and dragging his out again. After just a moment, he readjusted you, lifting one of your legs onto the table and holding it there, his other hand sliding up your back and pressing to the back of your neck, pinning you.
“Oh, fuck, fuck!” You screamed when he started up again. He smirked, enjoying the sound of his body slapping against yours. From the way he held you, Poe had his wrist comm directly in his line of sight. After a moment, he registered the time on the display and realized that you’d been fucking for twelve hours, give or take. Twelve hours.
“Fuck, been fucking you all day little girl, filling you with my cum for fucking hours and hours,” He groaned, pressing you into the table even more. You whimpered in response, unable to speak. “Yeah, you love it, don’t you? Want more, come on I know you can speak, tell me you want my cum.”
“Uh, fuck I w-want, want your c-cum, please!”
“Yeah you do, fucking slut,” He picked up the pace again, then shot over the edge as you screamed, “Take my cum, take it, fuck.” Poe growled, still amazed at how tight you were, milking his cock perfectly every time. Once his orgasm subsided, he flipped you over onto your back and took a moment to gaze down at you.
Your black eyes were staring up at him hungrily, waiting for him to decide his next move. When you licked your lips, an idea popped into his head. He reached down and spun you so your head was at the edge of the table, your legs pointing away from him. He moved you so that your head just dangled over the edge, and then he pushed his fingers into your mouth, wetting them.
“Gonna put my cock down your throat, think you can handle that?” He said, grunting when your lips wrapped around his fingers and sucked a little. He was quick to replace them with his cock, one hand moving to hold under your head and the other guiding his length into your eager little mouth. “Fuck, yes.” He moaned, quickly setting a steady pace.
Once he had a rhythm going, Poe used the hand not supporting your head to place one of yours behind that one, “Tap, fucking hell yes, t-tap my hand if you need air, ah shit!” He just managed to give you the instructions before the overwhelming feeling of your mouth working on him so expertly had his balls pulling up and before he knew it, he was shooting his load down your throat.
You swallowed everything and then continued sucking him off as he fucked your face.
Thirteen hours.
+
He tasted delicious. You’d almost wished, when he shot that first load down your throat, that he’d started things out this way so that the taste of him was on your tongue the whole time. You made up for it by taking as much as you could, swallowing around his length as you pulled orgasm after orgasm from him.
Eventually, you were moaning around him enough that he realized it had been a while since you’d cum, and he pulled from your mouth. His dark gaze searched your cum covered face greedily before he climbed onto the table, pulling you up to lift you over his cock. He lowered you slowly onto him, the stretch exactly what you needed and so perfect that the moment you were fully seated you came, jerking in his arms.
You were in his lap, your legs wrapped around his back, and you briefly thought of how this was the most intimate position yet. Your chests pressed together, and he was expertly moving you in his lap, helping you to ride him.
His face was a breath away. You closed the gap.
He groaned when your mouth opened for him, letting his tongue taste the mixture of you and his spend. You squeezed his cock harder, you were so turned on, and it only took a few more rolls of your hips to feel yourself come undone again.
Your head felt heavy, so you let it fall into the crook of his neck, nuzzling.
“Oh yeah, so fucking good,” You whimpered, your arms around him, “Oh, Poe don’t stop!”
Poe.
Your Poe.
+
This is how...this is how he would have liked to be with you the first time, how he pictured it when he was younger. You straddling his lap, wrapped around each other as you rolled your hips and he pulled the most delicious sounds from you with his deep thrusts. It was intimate, the position allowing him to move between kissing you, holding you, licking your breasts, ensuring you were enjoying it as much as him.  
He could whisper sweet nothings into your ear this way, tell you he loved you and that he’d take care of you. And you would have liked it too, he knew, because you liked watching his face, reading his expressions every day and he knew that would have translated over to making love.
But this-this wasn’t making love, was it?
You had dropped your head down as you came again, your body curling into his as though for safety, comfort.
“Oh, Poe, don’t stop!”
He was going to cum again, the sound of his name on your lips for the first time hurling him over the edge, “Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!” He pressed your body into his and dropped his head to your neck, where he peppered it with gentle kisses as he spilled inside of you.
You both slowed your movements after coming down from your highs this time.
Poe felt himself panting, out of breath. You were panting too.
But why...why was he on the table? Poe leaned back slightly and you raised your head at his movement, your eyes meeting his. They weren’t as dark as before, but you looked tired. Poe felt tired, exhausted really.
You were still moving your hips, almost as if on autopilot. But you were frowning at Poe as you did, and then you winced. He froze, watching as you looked down at yourself, his eyes following yours.
“No...” He heard himself whisper in dawning horror. You were covered in marks; bruises or bites, hickies, red welts from places that looked like they’d been slapped.
They had been slapped. He had slapped you.
Poe felt himself softening inside you, a pain in his back and knees, his chest smarting as well. He glanced down and saw track marks from your nails down his chest. He didn’t even remember you doing that, it hadn’t hurt at the time. You whimpered, this time in pain and he looked back up into your eyes. They weren’t dark anymore. You were crying.
“Sweetheart-“ Poe faltered, shaking his head and trying to clear the clinging fog. You shifted a little and he slipped from inside of you. Both you and Poe groaned at the sensation, and you quivered as the mixture of fluids spilled out from inside you. “I-what happened...what did I do?”
Poe was sobbing now too.
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It took some time to regain enough strength to move from the table, without the boost the pollen had provided you were both spent and every tired, aching muscle, bruise and bite mark or scratch could be fully felt now. Poe recovered first, easing himself to his feet and searching for the packs you’d each dropped when things...went dark.
You were panting on the table still, in much worse shape than he was and the rising panic inside of Poe was giving him the energy he needed to get to the medkits. He pushed through the pain in his limbs, thirst in his mouth and throbbing in his head-none of it mattered right now, not when you were suffering. He glanced at his wrist comm as he unzipped the medkit and realized, with horror, that it had been fourteen hours. Fourteen hours of brutal, relentless, rough sex.
The plant hadn’t just taken away inhibitions, hadn’t made it impossible to resist one another, no it had obliterated both of you-pushed you both into the far recesses of your minds and forced you to watch as its pollen turned you into feral, angry animals with exactly one goal.
And it stole from you both, stole your consent, your right to chose, abilities to control the urges that were twisted by its potency. Warped into selfish desire, the need for release and control, as if it was some archaic mating ritual-mark, consume, dominate. It wasn’t real, none of it had been, each of you losing yourselves in a hopeless battle against the strength of the pollen. And Poe...he had been violent, mean, brutal. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been, but it was the unavoidable reality that he was much bigger and stronger, the boost of the pollen making it easy to manhandle you.
He would never forgive himself for harming you. For the things he said, the marks left all over your body. If he could have died instead, fought against the pollen and let whatever happened in that case happen, he would have. Ten times over, he would have.
Just like Charlie, he would have sacrificed himself in an instant to protect you.
But you had refused to run and told Poe that you didn’t want to die. At that moment, right as he was coiled to try and run from you, he realized that you could die too. There was no medical backup, no nearby crew to call for help. It was Poe and you and the bacta shots that would have been completely ineffective with the pollen pulsing through your systems. He had to give in, and the darkness had taken him over the moment he accepted it.
He remembers fleetingly thinking of all the times in his life he had let himself think of being with you intimately. Usually guilt-ridden, he pushed the thoughts away; as a teenager, he failed half the time, and as an adult, he tried to refocus on other women, but they never measured up. When his imagination did get the better of him, it was always, always tender. Soft, slow, sensual. Just the very idea of being the one pulling moans from your lips and taking care of you would send him over the edge.
But that wasn’t what happened here. It wasn’t a light high that lowered inhibitions and made the sex last longer, feel more intense. No, this was a sinister plant so potent it drove away each of your humanity and respect for one another, pulling pleasure for yourselves instead of giving it to one another.
It was cold and harsh, and Poe was devastated.
You whimpered suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts, his head shooting up to look toward where you were laying on the table. “Sweetheart?” He stood the medkit in hand and tried to swallow back his sobs as he moved toward you.
“S’okay,” You groaned, eyes pressed tightly shut, “Find the bacta?”
“Yes, I-“ Poe faltered as he stood at the edge of the table, his hands holding the bacta shot he’d pulled out. “Can I touch you, or do you want to try and-?“
“Poe,” You mumbled tiredly, “I’m okay, please just give me the shot.” You attempted to roll yourself to your side and expose your buttocks for him but only ended up sobbing in pain again.
Flinching, Poe reached out and gently, so incredibly carefully, helped you to twist your hips. He heard himself whispering words of comfort but focused on opening the shot and lining it up. When he plunged the needle into you and pressed down on the plunger, you let out a weak but relieved little moan. “You’re okay sweetheart, I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” He promised, tossing aside the bacta shot and brushing his fingers over your face comfortingly.
His shattered heart beat hopefully when you reached up and took hold of his hand, squeezing.
+
Poe was watching you race Charlie up an older tree, his strength no match for your agility as the smaller sibling. It was a lazy day, hot enough to warrant a day by the river-which was what most of the kids in their town on Yavin-4 had been thinking, it seemed. The banks of the river were piled with kids and teens as far as he could see, though thankfully the prestige of the Horn and Dameron families left your favourite spot along the water relatively free of unwanted guests.
A few friends were nearby, giving Poe his space as he sat leaning against a boulder. A book sat open in his lap, though he’d been distracted many times now thanks to his inability to control his thoughts around you. His father had assured Poe that it was natural at seventeen to have a wandering mind, a surge of hormones, he’d horrifyingly explained. He advised that should the thoughts and feelings become too intense, that Poe needed to take a few breaths, refocus elsewhere, remind himself of the person that deserved his respect and not his wayward thoughts.
But Poe didn’t have these thoughts or feelings or whatever the fuck about anyone but you. It had always been you, and though so far he’d managed to hide his emotional and physical feelings from your notice, it alarmed him in moments like this. When you revealed much more skin than usual in a simple water suit, hair and sun-kissed skin damp from the water, he worried he might slip up. He was as ashamed of the direction his thoughts would go in as he was sure that you would, for the rest of his life, be the only one he ever truly admired so ardently, loved so deeply that he fought to refuse to disrespect you with his hormone fuelled thoughts.
You gave a whoop when you reached the highest point the tree would allow, its trunk and branches thinning enough to make it unsafe to climb any further beyond. A friend of yours, Tahla, and a few of his buddies were nearby in the water, laughing and teasing you from below and jokingly daring you and Charlie to jump. It wouldn’t have been unsafe to do, so instead, you both laughed and began the slow climb down.
You were moving much more slowly than Charlie now, out of breath from the race and taking care not to scratch yourself. Your brother hit the ground, tossed Poe a smirk, then barrelled into the water to cool off. Poe rolled his eyes, laughing as Charlie started picking up some of the smaller guys and tossing them into the water. A game fondly, yet unofficially, referred to as tempting the bull.
Poe adjusted himself against the rock, trying to get comfortable but he felt warm enough now that he thought he should get in the water as soon as Charlie wore himself out enough not to be a threat. You were still a good way up the tree, now slowed even further as you had a conversation with one of Tahla’s friends that had come out of the water to chat with you. Frowning to himself, Poe watched as you continued a friendly banter and felt the clutches of envy reaching for him.
This seemed like a good enough excuse to close his eyes and take one of those deep breaths his father advised. First standing, Poe tugged off his shirt so that he could make his way to the water, then allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Taking half a breath in until the sound of a branch snapping and your scream halted him in his tracks. Poe’s eyes snapped open and then he was frantically running, too far away to do anything as you lost your grip and fell, slamming into the ground on your side and letting out a pained wail.
Poe briefly met Charlie’s wide eyes as they both ran for you from different directions. Panic reflected there, but Poe got to you first and his eyes moved to you. Annoyingly, the blonde who had been speaking to you-distracting you-was knelt over you and worriedly checking you over.
Poe pushed him away from you, “Don’t touch her,” He heard himself snarl, taking a threatening step toward the kid, who raised his hands in surrender, “Get the fuck-“
“Poe,” He halted in his tracks and spun at the sound of your tiny voice, his anger waning the moment he saw you clutching awkwardly at your arm, Charlie knelt beside you. It was like you hadn’t even noticed your brother, though, your eyes only on Poe, surprisingly intense as you stopped him from chasing down Tahla’s idiot friend. “I-I think my arm is b-broken.” You sniffled, eyes streaming, and flinched as some of the tears ran through the scratches on your cheek.
“Oh sweetheart,” He was kneeling in front of you seconds later, inspecting you all over for any more injuries, thankful when your head appeared to be free of any bleeding. He looked to Charlie, who read his thoughts instantly.
“Kid, I’ll run ahead and let the Healer’s know what happened, flyboy’s got you.” Charlie kissed the top of your head and ran off at full speed.
You let out another sob, this time revealing to Poe that your pride was as injured as your arm. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” And with great care, he slid one arm under your legs, the other bracing your back, lifting you as he stood.
He carried you with great caution, moving a little slower than he’d prefer but, since you were still flushed and awake he figured jostling you too much would cause more damage than taking his time getting you to the healer.
“Were you gonna punch Raine, Poe?” You asked, still holding your arm carefully.
Poe grimaced, “He distracted you, should have waited till you were on the ground to bug you.” He replied tightly, not meeting your gaze as he didn’t want you to see in his expression how upset he was.
You sensed it, though, your good hand reaching up to stroke his jaw one, two, three times in a successful effort to soothe him.
“Raine isn’t all that distracting.” You murmured after a minute. Poe had to bite back a pleased smile, a little guilt bubbling up as a rogue thought tumbled in the back of his head that perhaps you had been looking at someone else when you became distracted.
+
Poe was a stubborn fucking man, this was something you’d always been keenly aware of, but at this moment you wanted to throttle him for it. You didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with him, though the bacta shot he’d given you had you feeling physically wonderful, it did nothing to help your mind.
And you were so weary, all you wanted to do was sleep but his refusal to receive his bacta shot was preventing that from happening. You just needed to close your eyes for a few hours and let your brain process everything that had happened.
“Poe, there’s no reason for you to say no to the shot. You know I have to do it, it’s my directive-“
“And as your Commander,” He cut you off, pushing the hand that held the shot away, “I’m ordering you to not follow the directive. I’m fine. Don’t need it.”
And he wouldn’t even look at you now, his eyes everywhere but yours, his expression tight. Stubborn, stupid flyboy!
You considered how to convince him, realizing the arguments you had used so far were ineffective. “Poe, I don’t know anything about this pollen.” You stepped up to stand in front of him at the table, both of you now dressed in fresh clothing, skin scrubbed with medical towelettes, though you both needed to take showers urgently. You stunk.
Poe glanced at you nervously as you came into his space, and you wanted to cry at how he looked afraid of you. Afraid to move, because he might hurt you. You could see him taking the last few years and pushing it all into this fucking day, convincing himself that he hurt you again, that it was somehow his fault.
You’d really done a number on him. Your heart filled with sorrow.
“I feel fine.”
You set the shot down on the table next to where he sat, then reached up and grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. He flinched at your touch, his body going rigid. “Poe, baby please let me do this,” His brows shot up in surprise at the sincere concern in your voice, the tenderness of your hands on his face, “If for no other reason, to at least prevent cardiac arrest or...or a relapse.” You didn’t want to say this aloud, but you knew that just because you’d been exposed to the pollen once didn’t make either of you immune to its effects. The bacta would ensure that nothing further happened while you were on the planet.
“What?” His voice was sharp, “Are you saying I could...that I might-“
You shook your head, “I’m saying I don’t know, and anything is a possibility if you don’t take the shot.”
Poe sighed heavily, his eyes closing as he gave you a small nod. Wordlessly, he stood and you dropped your hands, picking up the bacta shot as he undid his belt and pushed one side of his pants down just enough to reveal his buttocks. Wasting no time, you plunged the shot into his skin and let out a breath of relief at his sound of content. Without thinking, you placed your free hand on his lower back in comfort.
“Thank you, Poe.”
He fixed his pants and glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression painfully dejected. You wanted to hold him. Instead, he took a few measured steps across the room and stooped to pick up both of your packs, no longer meeting your eyes. You sighed.
“Let’s find somewhere to get a few hours shut-eye.” He said, leading the way out of the room.
You followed him, glancing over your shoulder at the room one last time, your heart ten times heavier than it had been before you entered it.  
+
It didn’t take long to find a room with a few bunks, you and Poe each falling to an empty bed and falling asleep in a matter of moments. You were able to get a few hours, waking up feeling surprisingly refreshed, one of the helpful effects of the bacta shot. You were on your back and blinked up at the base of the upper bunk for a few moments, confused as to why you’d awoken. A sharp, suppressed sob pulled your attention to the bed just across from you, though Poe’s back was to you, you could see his shoulders shaking. He was crying.
It happened then, a monumental shift inside of you that was like seeing your whole life flash before your eyes. Only it was all Poe, every single moment of your life interwoven with him because he had always been there, always been absolutely everything to you. Seeing him across the room from you, trying to hide his pain again. Something in the core of your being shifted. You had to bite back a gasp as you felt several years of pent-up anger and pain begin to melt away until you were left raw, trying to reconcile how you had let your relationship with Poe get to this point, and even why you ran in the first place.
Maker, you were awful. Charlie would be ashamed of you, he loved Poe like a brother and you had been nothing but cruel these last couple of months. Another choked back sob cut through the air and you wanted to walk over to Poe and soothe his pain, assure him everything was okay. But it wasn’t, and you didn’t know how to even begin to try and repair everything between you and him, especially not after what had just happened.
But you did...you wanted your best friend back. Which meant you needed to do some serious thinking. And that couldn’t all happen right here during the mission. So you pretended to just be waking up, noisily to give him a moment to hide his tears and pushed everything else back-just for a little while longer.
Poe stilled, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head duck down, no doubt wiping his tears away. By the time you sat up, he was rolling over at pretending he had just woken up as well.
“Hey,” You gave him a small smile, then glanced at your wrist comm. “If we eat something and then start our search, we can be back at the ship in roughly four and a half hours.” Poe nodded in response, sitting up, and you watched him reach into one of the packs by the side of his bed. He pulled out two bottles of water and a couple of rations each, handing yours to you and carefully avoiding touching your skin as he did.
As much as you wanted to tell him you weren’t afraid of him, you knew this moment wasn’t the time to start the conversation. Instead, you ate in silence, Poe’s eyes on the floor and yours gazing at the walls, which had some basic Empire propaganda posted upon them.
After breakfast, you each suited up properly for exploring the facility and set out, wandering the halls cautiously in search of the main control room. It didn’t take too long to find, though you were held up trying to get the door to disengage. When your usual tricks didn’t work, you had to set up a charge and blow the door. You’d used these kinds of minor explosives plenty of times, retreating down the hall further than necessary as you counted down until detonation.
Surprising you, Poe suddenly spun from where he stood next to you and blocked your body protectively with his wider frame as the door was blown off of its hinges. He looked over your head, hands clenched at his sides, but he didn’t move until you leaned to look around him and confirmed it was safe to move in.
You felt as though your heart was sitting in the back of your throat now.
It was well preserved, evidently one of the first rooms to be locked up when the Empire forces abandoned this outpost. It was a treasure trove of intel and you excitedly got to work, breaking away from Poe to complete a safety sweep.
After completing a preliminary search of the room, you found the main control panel and, flipping through every piece of information you had in your brain on old technology, you started pulling it open to seek out where you could insert the data drive you’d brought. You were confident BB8 could crack through any ancient firewalls on any of the data you were able to recover. Poe was doing similar work at the stations' console across the room, working in silence but sometimes you could feel his eyes on you, looking away before you could catch his eye.
A while later and you were on your back under the console, seeking out the hidden panel that would give you access to the data bridge. It took a few minutes, but you finally found it and had to finagle it awkwardly with your nails, trying to pry the cover off. It gave a satisfying little ‘pop’ when you managed to free it.
And then it promptly fell straight onto your face.
It shot straight through your hands, the edge smacking off of the corner of your cheek before bouncing to the ground. “Fuck!” You cried, feeling the skin tear and warm blood pooling out.
Stars, you really were off your game.
Dabbing at the blood carefully with the sleeve of your shirt, you were suddenly dragged out from under the panel by your ankles. Before you could even question what was happening, Poe was leaning over you, his expression panic-stricken, only paling further when he saw the blood on your cheek.
“What happened?” His voice was frantic, hands hovering above you; it was an entirely uncharacteristic reaction for him that for a moment you could only stare up at him in surprise. “Sweetheart, what happened?”
“I’m okay,” You assured him hurriedly, sitting up onto your elbows, “Just dropped that panel on my face.” You gazed at Poe as his eyes dropped from you to the panel now laying on the ground next to you. A modicum of relief swept over his features fleetingly.
Wordlessly, he reached into your nearby pack and pulled out a bacta-spray. When his hands raised toward your face, you watched as he hesitated briefly before he touched you, one hand wrapping around the back of your head to hold you steady, the other applying the bacta-spray.
Still holding you, he dropped the spray into the pack again and pulled out a bandage. “Turn your head for me, sweetheart.” He murmured, his eyes focused on your cheek.
You did as he asked and waited as he used both hands to apply the bandage over your skin. Peering up at Poe when he finished, you were touched by his gentle care, though you understood it was coming from a place of contrition more than anything. His fingers absentmindedly brushed downward, to ensure the edges of the bandage were sealed; you shivered involuntarily at the light contact.
Poe went rigid, his eyes meeting yours briefly in surprise before you glanced away, your face flushing. “Thank you.” You murmured, remaining still until he scooted back and stood, and then you were quickly pushing yourself back under the panel.
MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER
You sat back on your hunches, eyes on the man in front of you as he came apart, the emotions he’d tried hiding from you since that morning now spilling out. You were holding yourself steady by gripping his thighs and could feel the way his body was as rigid as durasteel. You looked at him and reminded yourself that this was what you would do to him if you left again, that leaving things unsaid and unresolved was never the answer.
“I hurt you, over and over,” His hands came to clench at his sides, gripping into the sheets of your bunk, “I said horrible things to you, at Charlie’s funeral and then since you’ve been back, and yesterday I-I can’t even-“
“Yesterday wasn’t you, Poe, it wasn’t either of us.” You interjected softly, urging yourself to remain exceptionally calm as he came undone.
He huffed, unimpressed with your argument, “Y-you and I, we lost everything the day Charlie died. But you kept it together, organized the funeral, smiled and hugged everyone who came up to us...all I could do was stand there and be angry at y-you even though I knew it wasn’t your fault,” Poe shook his head aggressively when you opened your mouth to interrupt, “No, you know it’s true, you even said it yourself. I failed you. And then you came back and I failed you again, let us drift further apart than we’d been when you were in a different galaxy. You lost your brother, and then I lost you both and I-I’m so, fuck (y/n), I am so sorry.”
And he sobbed, a retched, heartbreaking sob that almost knocked you off of your feet, it was so real and deep. You couldn’t help the tears that poured down your cheeks in response, and you were momentarily at a loss of how to respond. How could you even begin to help take away that much pain? When you were the fucking person who caused it?
Unsure of what else to do, you slid forward and in between his legs again, your hands moving to grip his forearms. You rubbed up and down soothingly and held him harder when he tried to pull away.
“You shouldn’t be near me, not after w-what I’ve done to you.” He gasped out, failing to move out of your grasp but continuing to struggle. It was a testament to his fear of causing you harm that he simply didn’t push away, as the stronger person.
“Neither of us had any choice, Poe, we were both covered in that pollen. And,” You moved your head to catch his eye, to ensure he heard your next words, “And Poe, I was the one who tackled us into that bush, who forgot the map they studied for two days that showed that cliff. Do you blame me for what happened?”
Poe almost glared at you, stilling, “Of course I don’t blame you-“
“Then understand that I don’t blame you either, Poe, fuck.”
“(y/n),” His voice dropped, thick with emotion, “You said...right before I-you said that you didn’t want to die. When you put it like that, I knew it meant you understood what was happening but hadn’t heard of a plant this powerful and didn’t know if you could die if we didn’t...” He paused, shaking his head. He looked at you then, through tear-soaked lashes, an expression so full of sorrow you stopped breathing. “That was the only reason I stayed with you. I was fighting it, I was going to make a run for it when you wouldn’t. I wanted to run, let myself die because I could feel what the pollen was making me want to do to you and fuck, it scared me. What I did to you yesterday was horrific. Unforgivable. Everything I’ve done to you is.”
Suddenly, you were angry, his words registering in your brain like an explosion, “Shut up,” You growled, harsh enough to catch him off guard and he was peering at you in surprise, eyes searching your face in confusion. “Don’t ever, ever say-I can’t believe you...why would you want to die, Poe? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think I could survive you dying? That I would want to live in a galaxy where you and Charlie were both gone? I left, I know, but I always knew you were at least alive!”
Poe gaped at you in shock, looking as though you had just slapped him awake, cleared the fog from his brain. Before you knew what was happening, he reached down for you and gripped your waist before dropping to his knees on the ground with you, crushing you into a tight embrace. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, and you wondered how you ever could be trusted enough for this strong, capable man to let himself become so vulnerable for you.
“Didn’t mean it,” He murmured, nuzzling your neck slightly as you instinctively run your fingers through his hair. “I promise I won’t leave...if you don’t want me to, I won’t leave you.”
You remained in Poe’s arms for some time, the silence was no longer heavy with anger but rather thick with emotion. And stars, you had forgotten what being held by Poe was like, the warmth and safety his arms had always surrounded you with. You let yourself forget; instead, you’d spent these last few years painting a picture of Poe Dameron with only the medium of his final words to you, resulting in an ugly, distorted image that served to fuel your pain, your resentment.
In doing this, you had forgotten how complex Poe was, how he acted cocky, snarky, but deep down he was a serious, earnest man with a heart of gold. He let himself feel, didn’t try to hide his emotions from you or Charlie growing up, he cried when you cried and...and fuck, the one time he messed up and let his emotions get the better of him, you fled and didn’t look back. You didn’t let him apologize, and you knew even if he had found you straight after your fight you wouldn’t have listened.
You abandoned Poe because you had been afraid, a coward if there ever was one in this situation. And you weren’t just running from the loss, you were running from feelings you didn’t understand the depth of until you lost your brother. Because there was this moment, it was so brief, fleeting, but for just one moment you had been relieved that Poe hadn’t died during the Gold team mission.
And what did that make you? Not only a coward for running but a monster for thinking it in the first place. Instead of dealing with any of your feelings, your grief, you took the easy route and fled literal constellations away, severing ties with the one man in the whole galaxy who mattered to you anymore because you were terrified of how fucking in love with him you had been, and how your brother dying was what made you realize it.
+
Poe had let you shower first, taking time while you were in the fresher to collect all of the items from the mission and put them in an airtight container. He didn’t want to risk any of the pollen getting onto either of you again. Once he’d done that, he put on a fresh pot of caf and was halfway through his first cup when you emerged, hair down in long, damp tendrils, wearing another of Charlie’s old shirts and some worn jersey shorts.
“Oh, maker, caf!” You groaned happily, eagerly accepting the cup he’d poured for you and taking a long swell, eyes closed. Poe watched you, his mind still reeling over everything that had occurred in the last day.
You had been acting so much like the you he remembered, the person he’d grown up with-so kind-hearted, understanding. It was overwhelming to try and process what had happened with the pollen while navigating this shift in his relationship with you. For the first time in a long time, Poe felt as though his best friend was coming back to him.
“Did you,” He paused, gauging your reaction to his voice, but you just observed him over your mug, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Did you keep a lot of Charlie’s things?” If you were upset by the question, it didn’t show. You considered his words, nodding.
“I did, at first. I left so quickly that I didn’t have time to grab anything of his...Tommy and Rico boxed everything for me and kept it stored until I was reassigned.” Your expression tightened at the memory, “I had a few weeks off, I planet hopped to some of Charlie’s favourite spots, then once I was settled in at my new assignment had everything brought over. I kept a lot of his shirts, personal effects. Just donated his pants, really.”
Poe smiled, “I guess there were some very happy big and tall men that found those pants at the shelter.” Cheesy, he cringed internally.
But you laughed, a genuine little giggle just for Poe, one he’d heard a million times before but it had been so long, emotion bubbled up within him and his smile faltered; he glanced away, hoping you wouldn’t notice his shift in mood.
“What is it?”
Poe sighed, mildly amused at your familiar behaviour. You never did let him get away with hiding things if you could help it. Rather than explain how much it meant to him to be standing there with you, laughing, he swivelled the conversation, one last thing on his mind.
“I’m going to say something, and then if you want to just close this conversation after I do, I’m good with that, okay?”
You tilted your head curiously, giving him a little nod, “Sure.”
Poe looked away from you, staring down into his mug as he considered how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I know it was the pollen, all of it,” He took a deep breath, willing his brain to make itself useful, “I still need you to hear me say this: the things I said to you during...while we were under it-I wouldn’t ever say anything like that to you, (y/n). They were mean and filthy, crude words I’ve never...would never...not that we would, I mean, shit.” He ran a hand over his face, holding over his forehead as his frustration with himself grew.
“Poe?” You said after a pause, and he glanced up. Your expression was exceptionally understanding, “The same goes for me. The scratching too wasn’t me. And,” Your lips quirked, “I think I called you Commander a few times, and please know I do not call people by their rank during sex, stars.”
Poe chuckled, “Obviously, that would be fucking embarrassing,” Your smile widened at his response. “It’s just important to me that you know I would never think or enjoy saying mean and degrading stuff like that about a woman, about you.”
You nodded and bit your lip, “I’ve always known that, Poe.” Pausing to take another deep drink of your caf, you then pointed with your free hand to your right forearm, “Also, um, I have an implant so we...that is, I’m not going to, uh...” You trailed off awkwardly.
His eyes widened in horror, realizing he hadn’t thought beyond the potential emotional consequences of what had happened. “Shit, are you sure?”
You nodded vigorously when his gaze fell to your stomach before meeting yours again, “No sex pollen babies.” Each of you looked away at the same moment, embarrassed.
After a few minutes of quiet, Poe looked back down at you. You were standing next to him, leant against the counter and staring unseeingly in front of you. “Sweetheart?”
Your eyes refocused and met his, “Y-yeah, Poe?”
He moved slowly, careful not to startle you. Using his free hand, he cupped the back of your head and lowered his own to press your foreheads together, an affectionate display you had both done since you were little. He felt you relax into it, and for a minute everything was quiet and peaceful and safe.
Poe felt like his shattered heart wasn’t in so many pieces anymore.
And then you reached up with your hand and stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Just like that, he felt you come back to him.
Poe smiled to himself, getting lost in the feeling.
@mermaidxatxheart​ @foxilayde​ @eleinemk​ @paintballkid711​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl​ @deitysnips​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin
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The Proposition (Ch. 1)
summary || You've been thinking about Steve's proposal a lot. Part of you wants to decline but a bigger part of you wants what he's offering.
pairing || alpha!Steve x omega!Reader (Past alpha!Bucky x omega!Reader)
word count || 3,706
warnings || A/B/O, eventual smut, therapy talks, kink negotiation, lots of dialogue — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
notes || I can't get this story out of my head, really! First chapter is all about setting up the smut so I apologize but I believe in talking things out. Thank you to everyone who commented on the first part of the series! I'm going to try and be better about answering comments from here on out! Keep the comments coming, I love hearing from you guys so much!
You can also read it on Ao3. Do not copy, translate, rewrite or repost any of my work, even if you credit me. I always welcome comments and reblogs!
Sequel to Helping Hands: One Two Three Four Five
Divider courtesy of the talented @firefly-graphics
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After so many years of going to see Dr. Beta, you were used to the routine when you stepped through the doors. It was late in their work day so you were the only person in the office other than Valarie, the receptionist, who gave you a kind smile. “Good afternoon,” she said, typing something onto her computer. “Dr. Beta’s just about ready.”
“Thanks, Valarie,” you say, setting your bag down to take off your suit.
It had been weird the first time Dr. Beta had demanded you not wear the suit during your sessions. You protested but in the end, she won out. There were a lot of reasons for choosing a female-only office but this was the biggest one. They accommodate you so much just to make you feel welcome and safe in your own skin. It was one of the few places that you could take the suit off and feel comfortable.
The suit was just being zipped up into your bag when the door to the doctor’s office opened. Dr. Beta was a matronly middle aged woman with plenty of laugh lines and crow's feet from years of laughter and joy. She was a kind beta who had done wonders for your mental health and self esteem. Without her, you probably wouldn’t have gone through with the job proposal.
She called your name with a gentle smile, “You ready?”
“Yep,” you smiled, walking over to step into the room. The blinds were closed tight but there were several lamps around the space that allowed a soft light to keep it illuminated. The wooden diffuser was pumping out the soothing smell of lemon and sandalwood. Dr. Beta had always said the lemon helped cut the potency of your powers but you weren’t sure if that was true or if it was something she said to make you feel better.
The two of you settled into your usual spots before the doctor asks, “Anything new since we last saw each other?”
It had been a month since your last session. The milestone of going monthly instead of bi-monthly had been huge for you. There was a time that you saw her weekly, which was when you were at your lowest. You were glad to be where you were.
“Where do I even start?” you laugh, leaning casually back on the leather couch. The cold material felt nice on the bare skin that peeked out from your denim shorts and athletic tank top. “I’ve been meeting regularly with three guys to run with them every Tuesday and Thursday. We also go out for drinks and the game on Sunday.”
“Wow, that’s fantastic!” she gushed, genuinely excited for you. She even sat her clipboard and pen down to lean forward with her elbows on her knees. It was something she only did when you made some kind of...positive choice in your life. The way it made your chest swell with self pride was silly and kind of childish but the woman had always been extra motherly to you. “Clients?”
“One of them was,” you nod, trying to keep the flush of excitement from making you seem too eager. “They’re really nice guys and they invited me to start sparring with them next week after our runs.”
A gentle look crossed the doctor’s face that had you melting. It was a look that she gave when she was proud and the way your name came out of her mouth spoke volumes. “I’m so proud of you,” she said aloud even though you knew it by her body language. “It’s been a long time since you took time for yourself in your personal life. Are they on your level of martial arts?”
“Better!” you said, excited to have a good challenge.
“Better than you?” she laughed, sounding incredulous. “I’d have to see that to believe it!” You join her for the laugh. “Anything else?”
Your mind flutters to a certain blond and his proposition but decide to keep that to yourself for now. It wasn’t good for you to hide secrets from Dr. Beta and you usually didn’t, however, she would definitely encourage you to take him up on the offer. You didn’t think you were ready to come up with reasons (lies) for why you couldn’t do that yet.
“Not really.”
She nods, grabbing her clipboard to flip the paper. “Dr. Noland said you were going to get your heat early this time around. She said you mentioned you might know why?”
Damn it. You forgot how much the two doctors communicated between each other about your health. It was the program you were in and, while amazingly helpful, could be very annoying at times. Case in point, now you need to make a choice on whether to point blank lie to Dr. Beta or just tell the truth. Lying by omission was much more your style.
“Yeah,” you sigh, resigning yourself to the conversation. “The last client I helped had...intense pheromones. I think it may have kicked me into my heat cycle early.”
The doctor’s hazel eyes widened in shock, “Even with the suppressant you took?”
Nodding, you look away for a second. “The client was a super soldier,” you admit, running a hand through your hair in frustration.
Understanding blossomed on her face when she made a guess as to who you were talking about. “Well, that might do it, for sure,” she nodded, making a note. “Still, I’m going to have Dr. Noland change your suppressant just in case it’s not working.”
She stood up, going over to the cabinet behind her desk. She took out a large bottle, tossing it to you, that had heat vitamins in them. Another bottle was thrown your way full of pills specifically for healthy slick production. The last thing she came over with were a few vouchers for omega-centric energy drinks and heat-snacks.
“I know you hate this question but I am legally required to ask,” she chuckles. “Do you have someone you trust to help you through your heat?”
You hesitate. “No.”
Her head snaps up, hazel eyes pinning you to the spot. “You hesitated. You never hesitate,” she points out with far too much excitement. She sets the clipboard down, doing the lean again. “Do you have someone in mind?”
Well, the cat was out of the bag and now you couldn’t lie because she would never believe you now. “I was...propositioned,” you admit, feeling stupidly relieved that you had been honest with her. She had conditioned you so fucking well to feel better when you told the truth as opposed to lying. It had been a ‘bad coping mechanism’ you created during your childhood to gain some control of your otherwise uncontrollable life.
“By one of your new friends?” she asked, already getting the gist of the conversation. “Was it your client?”
“No, not my client but his...best friend,” you whisper, feeling a little embarrassed that you were having this conversation.
Dr. Beta is quiet for a moment, contemplating how to ask the question. “What’s the big deal then? Why not take him up on the offer?”
You cringe. “There are…a lot of reasons but I’m sure you’re going to make them seem like they’re not problems but things I’ve blown up in my mind.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You know your feelings and worries are valid! I just help you see things in a more logical light. I think you should really talk this through with him but...would you like to practice with me?”
You bite your lower lip but give a heavy sigh when you realize there’s still nearly forty minutes left of your time with her. “Fine. It can’t hurt.”
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You sat in the booth twitching with your napkin. You and the owner were good friends from back in your academy days so he allowed you to pay a certain amount for the whole rooftop terrace. It meant you could enjoy a meal with someone without having to wear your suit. You also got the same female server every time who knew your situation and didn’t care.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” you heard a familiar voice say to your left.
Not really sure why, you stood up when he approached. He was wearing a thin blue zip-up jacket over a blue and white plaid button up shirt that was unbuttoned enough for you to see the white t-shirt he had under it. His jeans were dark and fit far too well around his massive thighs. A plain blue ball cap sat on his head and some fake glasses to help hide his identity. The smile he gave you was enough to make your preheat brain purr.
It took you by surprise when his big arms wrapped you up in a hug that smothered you in his masculine scent. Your hands touched his back, hugging him hesitantly. The squeeze lasted a little longer than you expected, just enough for your head to be perfectly swimming in his pheromones.
You pulled away when he did, allowing him to sit at the far side of the table, facing towards the rest of the area. He had insisted that you come without your suit so it was the least you could do to keep the waitress from noticing his erection.
“It’s okay, I ordered some water for us,” you smile, genuinely happy to see him. It wasn’t often that you saw any of the three men individually. They usually hung out in a pack and you were happy to know that you fit into the group pretty well. “Get whatever you want, Steve. It’s my treat.”
He gave you a look. “I would prefer it if you let me pay.”
Your heart gave a hard thump in your chest. There was something about the way he said it that was just short of a command. You look into his blue eyes, trying to gauge his intent before setting down the menu. “Is this some old-fashioned pride I see leaking through?” you tease, giving him a mischievous grin.
“No, I just figure it was only right that I buy you lunch before helping you with your heat,” he said so casually it made your face heat.
“What makes you think I’m going to agree?!” you laugh loudly.
There is a knowing glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. “Isn’t that why we’re here? Alone?” he questioned easily, looking up just as Julia came to the table.
“Welcome back,” she greets you, setting two empty glasses and a pitcher of water down on the table. “My name’s Julia.”
“Nice to meet you Julia,” Steve responded with a neutral smile. It caught you a little off guard because it...definitely wasn’t the smile he gave you. Was it just part of his disguise?
You both ordered a beer and your entrees. It wasn’t until Julia walked away that you focused back on the alpha across from you. He was already looking at you with an intense expression. You feel like he’s basically prying into your soul.
“I...spoke with my therapist yesterday and…” you start, finding it very hard to talk about this kind of thing. It was so easy to soothe your clients but so hard to give yourself a break. “She...convinced me to talk with you about my...worries.”
His expression softens a bit. “I’m willing to work with you,” he soothes, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers curled around yours, warm and solid. “Tell me everything.”
You take a deep breath. “I’m not afraid of hurting you,” you blurt out. “You can take me even on your worst day. I’m...embarrassed to count myself among the small population of omegas that go...feral during their heat. I...fight my partner. Dr. Beta says it's because of the trauma I experienced. Trauma doesn't just disappear during heat...it gets worse. I’m just not the usual kind of docile omega that society seems to exemplify.”
He looks up to alert you that Julia was returning with your drinks. He didn’t speak until she was back inside the building. “Truthfully, I’m actually more intrigued than put off by the notion,” he finally said after taking a sip of his beer. “Do you fight the whole time or just in the beginning?”
It wasn’t a line of questioning that you expected so you gaped at him like a fish out of water for a few seconds before finding your words. “I don’t...know,” you admit sheepishly, sipping your hard cider. “I’ve only been with one alpha during my heat and he had to go to the hospital a few hours into it.”
Something dark and tempting flashed through the blond’s eyes. “How do you feel about restraints?”
Your core throbbed at the simple question. It probably showed on your face because his smile started to widen in understanding. “Yes, that’s fine,” you breathe, trying not to think too hard about the implications.
“Would you prefer to do this at your house or in my suite?” he asked as if you had already agreed to the whole thing.
Your mind screamed at you to say decline. It was dangerous and there were so many things that could go wrong. Your omega brain though had already bought into the whole thing. You wanted this big, powerful alpha to hold you down and take you in the most forceful of ways. You wanted him to restrain you to your nest and have his way with you until the heat fog cleared.
“Wait, wait,” you say, trying to finish your thoughts before deciding anything. “I’m serious when I say I’m insatiable. I don’t have any refractory period between one wave and the next.”
Julia opens the door, alerting you both that she was coming out with food. You both wait until everything is set and she walks away before continuing. The food smells delicious so you grab the burger and bite into it. You always craved red meat before your heat so when the flavors burst across your taste buds, you hum in appreciation.
Steve took a few bites of his own meal before responding. “The super soldier serum makes it so I don’t have any refractory period,” he shrugs casually with a smile. “I’ve never met someone who could keep up with me so...I’m interested to see if you can. Any other worries?”
Heat blossoms across your cheek and in your chest. “I don’t want our friendship to be jeopardized,” you finally admit after finishing half of your burger. You grab some of the fries and eat them while thinking.
“Did helping Bucky keep you from being friends with him?”
“No, of course not,” you sigh, running out of excuses. Dr. Beta had been right, talking with him had definitely made you a little more comfortable with the idea. “Fine, okay, I accept your offer.”
“My place or yours?” he asks with a genuine smile.
You mull over the question for a bit before shrugging. “I have all of my nesting supplies at my house so we can do it at mine,” you chuckle, feeling a little nervous but excited too.
He nods. “Do I need to bring any supplies? Snacks or drinks?”
The two of you continue talking about the logistics of your heat while you finish the food. It makes you feel a lot better knowing you wouldn’t have to go through with it alone. You had already taken the initiative to send a message to all of your clients to let them know you would be out for your heat. You even went ahead and took an extra week just for yourself.
After you pay and you have your layers back on, the two of you stand outside the doors to the restaurant. You don’t want to leave him, truthfully. He smelt so good and you were so close to your heat that it was hard to separate from him. “Thanks for talking with me,” you smile despite the bonnet covering everything but your eyes. “I’ll give you a text when I’m ready.”
“Of course, thanks for lunch,” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead through the layers. “Here, take this for your nest.”
He shucked his jacket and offered it. Your hand reaches out to take it slowly. “Thanks but this might just push me into it faster,” you laugh brightly, holding the large jacket close to your chest. You could smell the scent of him even through all of your layers. It made your head foggy.
“That’s the idea,” he smirked, turning towards the tower with a wave. “Just let me know when you want me to come over.”
You watch him walk away, eyes lingering on the way his biceps stretched the fabric of his shirt and down until you stared at his toned ass in those jeans. It was obvious how close you were to your heat when sweat started to form along your temples and slick started to dampen your panties.
Once you got back home, you arranged your snacks and vitamins on the counter so they were easy for Steve to find. He might need to feed you for the first few waves because you weren’t sure if you’d be coherent or not. Then you went into your extra bedroom that you used for your heats and started getting it ready.
You pulled out all of your slick-resistant pillows, cushions and blankets from the closet to make a nest on your king sized bed. It was a nice four post bed that had your mind in dark places. All you could think about was being restrained with cuffs around one of those posts while Steve fucked into you.
It didn’t take long before you needed a pad for all of the fucking slick that was making everything so annoying. The nest took a lot longer that you would like to admit because it just didn’t seem...right. You’d never had this kind of issue before but your omega brain wanted Steve to be comfortable and happy too.
Looking back at the closet, you debated on whether or not you wanted to pull out the box of toys. You weren’t sure if Steve would want them or need them or…
“Fuck it,” you mutter, grabbing your phone to send the alpha a quick text. Toys or no toys?
You were adding his jacket to your nest when your phone vibrated in your pocket. Instead of the one or two word answer that you expected, it was...something else.
Definitely toys. I’ll enjoy teasing you until you’re begging for my knot.
Fuckin’ hell! Was this the same blond with the surprisingly boyish face that you had met during lunch today? The same guy that Sam teased about being an old virgin?
You didn’t think the pad was going to hold up to all of the slick that gush from you at the text. How does one respond to a text like that? You grabbed out the delicate pink box out of the closet, wincing at the color because it was the only color that the shop had to store your toys. Omegas were feminine right?! They liked pink, right?!
Laughing at yourself, you set the box on the little table in the room. You opened the lid and set it to the side so you could look at your assortment of toys. It was a collection you started when your first heat hit you at sixteen. You had been a late bloomer because of your constant martial arts training, which stilted your omega hormones.
It had all the necessities and even some extras. You had your typical knot dildo, a vibrator, a clit vibe, a few different types of condoms for when you weren’t in your heat, a bottle of lube that encouraged slick production, a bottle of regular lube, and a few different sized anal plugs. The last few were just because you enjoyed the feeling of being full when having sex.
Quickly you took a picture of the box and sent it to Steve as a reply. It was the best you could come up with. You had never really been good at those kinds of things. Well, you’d never had someone try and sext you.
Happy that everything was prepared, you cuddled under your fuzzy blanket in your nest. Comfort flooded through you as you nuzzled into the man’s jacket, deeply taking in his scent. It was nice and musky and made you feel warm and safe.
The phone buzzed. You’re okay with anal during your heat?
Your pheromone idled brain made you giggle, “Consent is important,” before you could text him back. Yes, I like being stuffed full.
It didn’t even register how inappropriate the text sounded before you hit send. You were obviously a lot further along than you had previously thought. The subtle throb of your core was starting to get worse but you weren’t too far gone to see his last text.
Good to know. Get some rest. Need me to come out and check on you before dark?
You groaned as a cramp hit your pelvis, slick becoming an issue. It simultaneously hurt and felt good. You were so distracted that you couldn’t answer the text message. Everything was suddenly too hot so you threw off your clothing, slipping your hand down to brush against your clit. It was already so sensitive it hurt but you needed relief.
It wasn’t enough and you knew that it would be futile to try and get yourself off with just your fingers but your brain wasn’t working. You groaned helplessly as the lackluster orgasm washed over you. It wasn’t enough, so frustratingly not enough. Sweat dripped down your cheek from your hairline making you kick off the blanket so you could turn over.
You didn’t care how it looked with your ass up because the scent of Steve on the jacket helped clear your head a little. It made your core throb but it also helped you become coherent. Enough so that you grabbed the phone and typed in a one word response that only said:
Now.
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Credits for the pictures in Moodboard:
Unsplash photographers:
1. Kelly Sikkema
2. Vulkan Olmez
3. Toa Heftiba
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