#[it's a matter of course: psa]

[megiddo-ichi]

Limbus Company - Stream Announcement

Good Morning Batheads.

At the request of a few and my own personal interest, we're sliding back into the salty seas of Limbus Company to catch up on what we had missed, and see what's in store in the newest Canto.

Tonight at 6PM CST.

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[hoshigray]

Satoru and Suguru having a competition over who can impregnate their sweet shared lover first, please?

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my goodness???....you got my attention.

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - canon divergence; implied geto is still a jujutsu tech sorcerer - satosugu taking turns with you - kissing; making out - lotus (geto) + eagle (gojo) positions - breeding kink - scratching - multiple orgasms - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, of get tf up) - cervix fucking - creampies - clitoral play (swiping) - pet names (angel, baby, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetheart) - humor - mention of drool + heavy depictions of come/semen.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

“Oooh—Haahh! Ohhh, God, Suguu, y’ feel so good…!”

“You feel good, too, princess...Hgghh! Shit, Y/n—“

“Yo, can you hurry it up? You know I’m not a patient guy, Suguru.”

Gojo sucks his teeth while watching you get it on with Geto. It was one of those nights when they’d come home and surprise you together. Usually, one would be assigned longer shifts or missions (that one mostly being Gojo), and the other would return home to eat dinner and sleep with you. But there would be those days when they’d arrive home in unison and try to do whatever they can to have you enjoy these rare moments with all three of you.

Sometimes, it would be Gojo taking you guys to some delicious café that sells parfaits that you’d probably like or Geto having the idea to have lunch at the park and enjoy the sun together. But, of course, there’d be those days when simply being inside the apartment, talking about each other’s day, watching a random movie, and then snoring while spooning would suffice. Because it doesn’t matter what they choose to do; all three of you being at the same place is always the best!

Tonight, however, was one of those nights where they’d pull you aside, drown you in kisses and gropes, and carry you to the bedroom for a more intimate occasion. For tonight, Geto and Gojo wanted to fuck you in the hopes you’ll be with child. And what better way for the two best friends to go about such an eventful issue than by a competition to see who can fill you up the most? 

Suguru has you propped on his crossed lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands kneading your asscheeks as you bounce on his cock and wail out his name in pretty notes. This was about the third round of the night, your cunt wet and filled with both Geto’s and Gojo’s cum. The fluids stream down with every jump of your hips from the base of his girth to his balls, the sounds of your union so filthy with the groans and moans that bounce around the bedroom walls. 

Geto sighs and burrows his chin into your shoulder. “Hahhh, oh, stop your crying, Satoru. You finished your turn and didn’t hear me heckle while you and Y/n were doing it.”

The white-haired man grunts with more complaints, to Geto’s dismay. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who takes longer to finish,” he persists, even if his raven-haired friend frowns. “I don’t want you to be the reason my dick falls asleep.”

“Tch, what you should be worrying about is finishing too quickly when it’s your turn. You act like being faster is better…Heh, maybe you can’t handle Y/n better than I do.”

“You son of a—“

“Hey now,” you’re the one who mediates the growing childish tension between your husbands, turning your face to lock Gojo in a spell with your gorgeous, hooded eyes. “Be nice, Toru; it’s Sugu’s turn now, so you can have me however you want when we’re done here, okay?”

Like a heart-struck fool, pink shades creep into the helix of Gojo’s ears as he happily complies with your request. “Okay, my princess.”

Geto rolls his eyes at his friend’s display; what a total loser. As if he has room to talk because once you turn back to face him and kiss his cheek, his breath hitches. “Come on,” you whisper. “Don’t let him ruin your fun.”

The dark-haired one chuckles before claiming your lips with his, “Wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”

As you two kiss, you rock your hips more to create a steady rhythm on top of Geto. His girth stretches your vagina nicely, and with his pulsing veins, you can feel them rub on the velvety texture of your inner walls. It’s good that the pace is at a respectable tempo, allowing you to feel him at your wits and pleasure truly.

But the best part of this position is how easy it is to stimulate your clitoris. Every time you rock your hips against Geto’s, the bulb rubs against his body and has your frame jolting. It feels so fucking good, having your cunt stuffed with his girth member and graze your walls deliciously while your precious button is being pressed.

The pacing soon goes in sync, his subtle thrusts as you bounce your ass on him while kissing. Your mewls are taken by his hungry lips, sucking on your tongue to evoke more cute noises, your hand coming to the back of his head to massage and grab strands of his onyx hair. He’s so romantic with you and your body, the position making this intimacy so much more personal. Your chasm frequently clamps on his cock when you pull your waist up, making the man below you hiss at the grip.

He breaks the kiss, “Shit, you tighten around me so nicely…”

“Really?” You giggle, laying more kisses on his cheek and ears. It sends shivers down his spine. 

“—Khhh, damn it, I can’t...” Suddenly, Geto thrusts upwards in a faster notion, and you scream to hold on quickly and follow his cadence. “Fuck, you feel too amazing, sweetheart…!” You can’t reply to him appropriately; your only responses are narrowed down to high-pitched whines and squeals. His hands wrap around your back to keep your body close as he chases his climax, his hot face melting with the sweat of your shoulder while he pushes his cock to meet your cervix. “Hmng! Hmmnn, I’m gonna cum, baby…!”

“Ohooo, me too, Sug’ruu, me—Tahhh! Ohhh, Jesus…!” Your clit keeps bumping onto Geto, your nerves getting activated with every rut. Shaky moans leave your puffy lips, and your hand scratches his back at every jab of your delicate cervix. You bring him in for another kiss – this one a lot more rushed and steamy – and your orgasm hits you both from the erratic speed of your hips.

You two sigh heavily into each other’s mouths, your body sinking into Geto’s gentle hold as his cock ejaculates his semen into your throbbing slit. His hands massage your back while his pelvis rolls to grind his dick and have your walls clench onto him more.

With a soft sound, you remove your lips from his, smiling gently while you brush his bangs off to view his left eye. “You love to finish strong, Sugu.”

He chuckles before kissing your nose. “Can’t help it if you drive me crazy, my love—“

“Alright, round’s over!” 

Before Geto knows it, Gojo’s already on the bed, yanking you off his best friend’s lap and laying you down with your back to the sheets. He voices his discontent, trying not to appear too upset. “Excuse you? Can’t let me have a moment?”

“Nope!” He shoves a middle finger to Geto’s face, and the black-headed one almost pops a vessel. “I practically went limp after watching you two for so long. So obverse from the side and let me have my fun.”

“So annoying,” Geto mumbles under his breath, yet the milky-haired one chooses not to listen with a huff and places all his attention on you.

“Now,” Gojo turns to you with half-lidded cerulean eyes, a smile beaming too much that his dimples show up. He spreads your legs to evince your messy chasm; Geto’s come spilling down to the crevice of your butt as he massages your inner thighs. Fuck, so fucking nasty, it had him bite his lip. “You ready for more of me, baby?”

You titter, bringing your legs up your chest and spread to a V-shape. “Yes, Toru, thank you for being patient.”

He snickers while pushing his glans to meet your soapy folds, humming when the excessive come lubes your labia sufficiently for his cock to be inserted. The hug of your walls makes him moan, and you jerk as his left curve scratches the plush itch. “Fuuuuck, so warm and tight for me, baby.” 

His arms support your legs in the air, and the position allows him to initiate with slow thrusts. Your purr at his movements; the curve has you howl with every push, stretching your pussy when he propels himself into you and rubs the upper wall of your vagina. Oh God, feels so fucking good…

You peer to where his dick is plunging into your cunt, silently awing at the mussy display of cum ringing around the base of his shaft and stringing to where your folds are. Holy shit, you chew on your bottom lip and move a hand to finger your clit, silently howling at the swipes you dance around your bud. “OhhhGod, hmmmm, right there…”

Gojo looks down and sees what you’re doing, and he chuckles, “Shit, you enjoying yourself, pretty girl? Hmm?” He ruts into you with sudden haste, and an abrupt hit to your cervix has you almost choking on air. “Like being filled up, huh?”

“Ahhh, y–yesss, I lov—Mmmph!!” He grinds his pelvis down, drilling his length deep inside to scuff your smooth walls. “I love y’r dick so much, Satoruuu…!”

“Awww, look at you playing with yourself,” the view excited him more, increasing his speed to pound into you. You cry out at the poke of your cervix, clamping onto him in response. “Ahhhh, there it is,” he coos while adding more weight onto you, making his rocks precise where he wants to hit. More shrieks fly out your lips, “Wanna be bred so bad, princess? Want me to fill you up again?”

Your head aches, ears ringing from the sloppy sounds of his dick rutting inside you, his balls smack your grundel with every push. “Ahhnn, mmoohhh, ye’sss,” you whisper.

“C’mon, angel, let me hear you.” Gojo places his forehead on your sweaty one, azure eyes examining your expression in a haze. “You want—Nnngh! Fuck…Want me to fuck a baby into you, yeah? Make you a mama? ”

“Yess, ’Toru, yesss!! Give me y’ur babiess, make me all fat and full!!”

“Heh, good, pretty girl; so good for—Khhckk!! Shit, shit, I’m gonna cum…” He brings his lips to yours, moaning to the kiss with you while his hips turn up to a volatile rate. Your whimpers are sucked and drunk by him, your eyebrows furrowed from the cyclical hits to your cervix and rubbing on your silky tunnel.  

Your arms come around to his shoulders, beckoning him to deepen the kiss as your body gets ready for the orgasm that hits you like a train. Trembles climb up your frame, whines muffled, and drool slips out your mouth down to your chin. Your cunt contracts around his length, milking him into his own release and filling you with his essence, adding to the pile that squelches and trickles down to the sheets beneath you. 

Gojo nibbles on your lip as he pumps every last bit of his load into you, his tongue twirling with yours until he removes his face from yours. He smiles, dimples greeting you with disheveled strands of snow-white hair sticking to his forehead. Too distracted by his charm for him to sneak in more harsh thrusts to your aching frame. 

You gasp aloud, “—Ohooo! Satoru, nooo! I’m too sensitive nowww..!!”

“Mmmm, sorry, princess,” an apology with a smile doesn’t match, placing a kiss on your forehead as you wail for him while he ruts into your vulnerable slit. “You just feel too good, can never get enou—Owwww!!”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Witness to the entire thing, Geto smacks Gojo with a house slipper before pulling him off you and throwing him to the side. The blue-eyed man looks at the other with an annoyed face. “I should be asking you the same thing, you psycho; what’s with the assault!?”

“Did you forget? Your turn is up,” indigo eyes narrow with a dark glint. “So why are you still moving?”

“Oh, quit yapping, giant earlobes! Can’t a guy squeeze in a few more before I get off…Or what, you scared I’d make them pregnant first? Your frail soldiers can’t compete with mine, is that it?” 

“Hah, you tell me, blue-eyed snowflake; you’re the one still trying to fuck into them like you’re afraid your load isn’t enough. Poor guy; can’t be a sore loser too early, now.”

“Choke on my dick!”

“You first.”

The two bicker back and forth while you observe, unable to find the right cue to intervene as you’re still in a daze. You sit on your side, feeling the liquids inside you exit your frame and slide down your thighs.

As they fight, you remember that you had forgotten to tell them that you took a birth control pill earlier today after they texted about returning home together. It wasn’t until after dinner that they said they wanted to try and fuck and fill you to the brim, practically dragging you to the room before you could utter a word to them about the contraceptive.

…Oh well, surely they don’t mean to have a baby right this moment. Plus, there will be other times! So, for now, you watch your husbands argue before you while shaking your head with a smile.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[gayclubsoap]

think! psas are so good. "if you drink, then drive, you're a bloody idiot" UGH SO GOOD.

[elainemorisi]

who got it into their heads, and why and how, that "towels shed a lot the first time you put them in the dryer" is worthy of any remark at all and especially is like, cause for concern

truly the "difficult to assemble" of soft home goods reviews

[laceyhearts]

౨ৎ THE HOODIE ; LUKE HUGHES

➪ summary: she'd always thought she wasn't pretty enough for luke, but that all changes with an invitation to the hughes' lake house and luke's hoodie

➪ pairing: luke hughes x fem!mid-size/plus-size!reader

➪ warnings: reader is insecure, uhhh i think that's it? not proofread (what's changed)

➪ word count: 3.6k

➪ emma's notes: the first fic back 😛 PSA: this is not to shame any of my mid-size or plus-size readers, especially because i am one, this is personally just my experience with how i’ve gone through my journey with insecurities and whatnot. be proud of your body, but it’s okay if it gets a little hard at times 🫶🏻 this is one of my favorite fics i've ever written so of course it was the first one i rewrote. speaking of that, i rewrote this fic HEAVILY so if it seems like a totally different fic, it basically is! thank you guys for understanding the blog switch, and i hope to see you all in the future <3

© laceyhearts ; do not copy, repost, translate, or put my work through ai generators. do not copy or remake my themes, graphics, or layouts.

It didn’t matter how many times she walked into a room, how many times she twirled her hair as a distraction, how many times she broke the ice; everyone’s eyes defaulted to the obvious - her stomach, her cheeks, her thighs, her hips. 

It felt like once you looked a certain way, a way that made you conventionally not attractive to the male gaze due to your size, it was the only thing people noticed about you. It didn’t matter if you could make people laugh with the simplest of jokes, didn’t matter if you could copy a landscape perfectly with a set of paint and a canvas, didn’t matter if you could look at a problem and solve it within 10 seconds, it was the fact that you were “curvy”, “on the heavier side”, “full-figured” - or whatever way society wanted to skirt around saying overweight to make it seem like they didn’t want to offend you. 

And maybe it started in high school when she sat down, and the chair creaked, causing everyone to snicker softly. Maybe it started in middle school when she couldn’t run the mile in the “desirable” amount of time. Maybe it started in elementary school when other parents would ask her parents in a worried tone about her physique. 

Or maybe it started in her head.

She couldn’t tell you when the insecurities started, somewhere between losing her child-like innocence that allowed her just to be and health class when they talked about which foods you should be eating and how you should stay within a certain weight limit.

But she could tell you when they lessened, when she stopped obsessing over them the moment she woke up until the moment she went to bed, when she threw on an outfit and went out with her friends without so much as a second thought. 

The whispers of high school hallways when she accidentally brushed up against someone, the whispers in stores when she’d pick out a small bag of cookies because she’d been eating like she was supposed to that week, were left behind once she left for college. 

It was a new start, new people, new experiences that would allow her to feel comfortable in her own body, get away from the negativity that was her hometown, filled with people straight from a teen romance movie. 

It happened fast, meeting Luke, in a way that she could tell you every little detail of the moment. The color of his shirt (dark blue, yellow Michigan written across it), the shoes he was wearing (black gym shoes), how his fingers twitched when his hand brushed hers as he picked up her book from the concrete beneath their feet. 

Unbeknownst to her, he could tell her every detail too, the exact day it happened (September 3, 2021, 6 days before his birthday and 27 days before hers), the pattern on her socks (white with black polka dots because they were the only ones she could find that morning), the book she was reading (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix), how she tucked her hair behind her ear.

And ever since then, they’ve been best friends, attached at the hip. She went to his games, he went to bother her during her shift at the dining hall. She went to his place to watch their show, he went to hers to get her help with homework. She made him soup when he was sick, he bought her soup when she was sick. She stayed up late to call him after an away game, he woke up early to send her a “good morning” text before she woke up. 

For a moment, she didn’t think about how she looked, didn’t notice the way people looked at them with a curiosity-filled gaze, didn’t hear the laughs behind her back when she walked by. It was like being with Luke helped her block out all the noise, like she could be herself around him. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She hadn’t expected him to ask her to the lake house, not in the slightest. Her decision was hesitant; she wasn’t sure if she could spend a week or two with Luke, his brothers, and his friends in shorts and tank tops, things that made her uncomfortable even in her own room. Yet, if she didn’t, she wasn’t sure she could take the wrath of Luke’s constant text messages that would leave her to give in anyway.

So there she stood, in the airport, waiting for any sign of Luke as her thoughts raced. It’d been a while since she’d last seen the boy, almost 6 months since she hugged him goodbye at the Newark airport and left for Michigan for the start of a new semester.

Her leggings hugged her tightly, pressing against her stomach just enough to leave indents of the seams. Her sweater hung loosely on her, a size or two too big to cover the width of her hips, creating the beads of sweat that dripped down her back. 

It didn’t take long for her to find him, towering over almost everyone else surrounding him. He spotted her, too, his lips subconsciously turning upwards into the grin that could make her melt more than the summer sun could. 

Luke’s eyes did a once-over, scanning her from head to toe, eyebrow raising, “Aren’t you hot?”

She hesitated for a second before shaking her head, “No. I run cold.”

“Right… and that’s why I used to have to turn the fan on every time you stayed at mine because you complained you were too hot.”

“Shut up, I was nervous I’d get cold on the plane.”

“Mhm, sure, y/n/n. Sure.”

He grabbed her bag, slinging it over his shoulder and reaching for her hand as if they’d done this multiple times before, like it was natural.

The walk to the car wasn’t long, but with the sun beating down on her, it felt like every step she took lasted 5 minutes. And without even asking, Luke turned the AC on full blast, knowing damn well that if she lasted another minute without cold air on her, she’d pass out.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

They pulled up to the house not long after, Luke grabbing her bag from the backseat before opening her door, leading her up the steps, and into the lake house, shutting the front door with his foot. He didn’t even blink an eye as he shot his hand out, easily catching the football that was being hurled at the two of them. 

Y/n stood, slightly awestruck and shocked, blinking slowly as she turned to face the culprit who threw the ball, only to find a sheepish-looking boy, no more than 3 years older than her, with slightly shaggy brown hair and a resemblance to her best friend. 

“Heads up?”

“She’s here for two seconds and you’re already trying to kill her.” Quinn walked in only a few steps behind, smacking him upside the head, “Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Quinn, that’s Jack.”

“Yeah, I uh- kind of got that. I mean- Luke always says you’re the calm one, so I just assumed- Yeah, I’m not much of a talker…” She trailed off, cheeks heating up from embarrassment instead of the heat for once.

The three boys just smiled at her, trying not to fluster her more than she already was. 

“Trevor and Cole are around here somewhere, but don’t pay too much attention to them, I try not to. I’ll take you to your room and then… I actually don’t know what we’re doing tonight.”

“Boat,” Jack replied simply, grabbing a water from the fridge, all but chugging it, and leaving the half-empty bottle on the counter. 

“That settles it, then.”

Luke led her to her room, placing her bags on top of her bed, “Here you are, m’lady. You can nap, shower, get settled, whatever you want. I’ll come get you when we’re about to go.”

Y/n nodded, slight panic flashing in her eyes as she turned to start unpacking, hoping he didn’t notice her change in demeanor. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

It was two hours before she saw anyone again, and in those two hours, all she had done was lay out her outfit choices and try them on over and over again until she determined she didn’t bring any good outfits with her on this trip. 

Finally, a few minutes before she knew Luke would knock on the door, she settled on a pair of light-washed jean shorts that were long enough to pass as “classy” but short enough to draw people’s gaze to her thighs, and her oversized dark blue UMich hockey shirt Luke had gotten for her a while back, the lettering fading due to the number of times she’d put it through the wash.

She’d just begun braiding the right side of her hair, her left already done in a simple 3-strand braid and a few pieces pulled out to frame her face as always, when she heard the knock, Luke opening it after he heard no protest. 

“Hey, you ready to-” He froze, eyes trailing over her frame, unsure where to look.

Y/n flushed, her hands itching to drop the hair they held and wrap her arms around her waist to avoid his gaze. She focused her attention on the task at hand, trying not to glance up at him through the mirror, trying not to envision the disgust written across his face.

“What?”

Her voice snapped him out of his trance, eyes finally finding hers, a small smile spreading across his lips, “You look…”

Her mind instantly spiraled, maybe I shouldn’t have come, maybe I should change into leggings, maybe I should-

“Pretty.”

Huh? She blinked a few times. “What?”

“I said you looked pretty.”

“Oh.” She didn’t say much else, securing her braid with a small hair tie as she reached to grab her bag, no doubt filled with her favorite book and her Kindle, just in case she ended up locking herself in her room the next two weeks.

“You're seriously bringing your Kindle? Aren’t you gonna go in the water?”

She followed him out of her room, closing the door behind her after slipping her gym shoes on. “I hate the water.”

“You hate the water?”

“I- yeah, it’s fine. I’ll just read, you guys can swim, cannonball, whatever you guys do.”

“Y/n/n, we can do something else if you don’t want to go out on the boat. We don’t have to do what they do.” His voice softened, stopping in the hallway, a few feet shy of where everyone was waiting in the living room. 

She couldn’t help but feel butterflies erupt in her stomach; the thought of him changing his plans just because she was uncomfortable with the thought of being around water - even if it was for a different reason than what she said - was enough to have her swooning. It was something small, something that many people wouldn’t bat an eye too, but to her? It meant more than she could explain. 

Her fingers laced with his, gaining courage to brush her lips against his cheek, “I appreciate it, Lukey, but I swear it’s fine. I just don’t want to go in.”

A faint blush covered his face at her action, but he played it off and nodded, “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

Time flew by on the boat, y/n reading her book, eyes occasionally looking up to see one of the boys jump into the lake, or to see them splashing around in the water like immature middle school boys, or just in time to see Luke walk by before plopping down next to her, his arm finding its way to rest behind her.

As the fun increased, the temperature decreased, and the breeze left goosebumps on her arms. She didn’t notice it at first, or tried not to let it show, nose buried in the pages, too interested in the same plot she’d read thousands of times before.

But after a while, a few rays of sunlight were all that was left of the day that passed, the cold finally settling around them, y/n shivering more than she was mere minutes ago. She closed her book, unable to continue to make out the black ink across the pages, opting for her Kindle instead. 

That was all it took for Luke to realize how cold she felt, her hand brushing against the skin of his arm where his sleeves were rolled up, her hand somehow even colder than the wind blowing through the air. He pulled his sweatshirt off with ease, handing it to her without another thought, “Here.”

She looked between his face and the fabric in his hand, weariness settling in her mind as she shook her head, “I’m okay.”

His eyebrows knitted together, head nodding to her arms, “You have goosebumps, I think that qualifies as being ‘not okay’.”

“I like the breeze, it’s nice.”

“Y/n/n, please.”

She relented, setting her Kindle beside her, taking the hoodie into her hands as she looked at its size inconspicuously. She never thought about fitting into other people’s clothes as an option, she knew she wouldn’t, they knew she wouldn’t, so why would she ever think that she would need to? 

Luke was taller than her, as he would like to say “by a mile”, something she was acutely aware of since the moment she met him. Something that she never really thought would be her saving grace until now. Because hopefully, the several inches he had on her was enough to counteract her own body.

She slipped it on, arm after arm, pulling it over her head, baseball cap being pulled into the hood. He watched as she fixed it, tugging on the front of it to create more space between the fabric and her skin. He frowned slightly. “Is it uncomfortable?”

Y/n shook her head, because it wasn’t uncomfortable, she was. It was baggier than she thought it would be, not as much as she would’ve liked it to be, but just enough to become one of her favorite hoodies she’s ever worn, and no, that was not because it was Luke’s.

“You sure? I can always ask Quinn or Jack for theirs-”

“Luke, it’s perfect.”

He just nodded, slightly skeptical at the look on her face and the way she kept tugging lightly on the hoodie like it was suffocating her. She avoided his gaze, trying to memorize the lines on the boat floor through the last bits of light on the horizon. 

“Y/n/n, can you please just tell me what’s wrong? If it’s not the hoodie, then-”

“Fine, it’s the hoodie!” She raised her voice just slightly to get her point across, but not enough to attract the attention of the others.

“Is it the fabric? Is it itchy? Is it-”

“It’s the size, Luke!”

He frowned, still confused, “It looks fine.”

“That’s-” She sighed, playing with the frayed edges on her shorts, “That’s not the point, Luke.”

“Then what is the point, because I’m struggling to see it.”

“I’ve never been the skinniest girl out there, Lu.”

And that got him to pause, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to gather his thoughts, unable to form any coherent ones, because to him? She’s always been the prettiest girl he’s seen. Always been the one who his mind defaulted to when his brothers asked if any girls caught his eye. Always been the one he described when someone asked him who his type was.

“Y/n…”

“It’s okay, Luke. I’m not trying to hide from it or anything.”

“I know you’re not, but you didn’t let me finish.” He slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his lap as if it were a common day occurrence. 

Her eyes widened, her body stiffening as her legs straddled his, trying to shift her weight off of him. But Luke, being Luke, his hands tightened around her hips, anchoring her in place and giving her a smug look, daring to challenge him.

“Let me go.”

“No.” His voice was stern as he spoke. 

“Please, Lu.” 

“I’m not letting you go until you see yourself how I see you. I am not letting you go until those negative thoughts are expelled from that beautiful head of yours.

“Listen, y/n/n. I know it’s hard, believe me, I’ve dealt with my fair share of insecurities myself, and I know it can’t be exactly what you’re going through, but… my point is the same. You are the most gorgeous person I have ever met, and I love every single part of you there is to love, okay? I cannot tell you a moment that I have thought you were ugly.”

Her mind barely registered the “I love” portion of his speech, already trying to find a moment to prove him wrong, “What about that time when-”

“Nope, doesn’t exist.”

“Oh! How about when you showed up, announced-”

“No.”

“That time-”

“No.”

“Fine, what about-”

“You can keep trying to grasp at straws there, pretty girl, and my answer is still going to be the same.”

She flushed at the nickname, finally relaxing into his hold, but her thoughts were still stuck on a negative loop, “Why?”

“Why, what, beautiful?”

“Me. Why me?”

“You wanna know my favorite memory of you?” 

She nodded hesitantly, eyes finding his.

He removed one of his arms from her waist, wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck and rubbing his thumb against her cheek before continuing, “Freshman year. First game you ever went to. I had just bought you your first-ever Michigan hockey shirt and used a Sharpie to write my name and my number on the back. It wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world, couldn’t hold a candle to you, but it made sure everyone knew you were there for me.

“You wore it with jeans the same color as these,” he tugged on the belt loop of her shorts with his free hand before flicking the brim of her hat. “This hat, your hair in two pig-tails, and you wore the same beat-up black Converse that you’re wearing right now. 

“And every time I looked up at you, you looked a little tired, probably because you had pulled an all-nighter beforehand, but you stood for the whole game with this little pompom thing in your hand, cheering every time we got a goal and booing every time OSU got one.

“After the game, I met you outside where you proceeded to tackle me in your infamous bear hugs, all because I got a lousy hit on some player. Then, we went out for ice cream, and you got vanilla with sprinkles. We sat on a bench, and I kept eyeing your bowl until you finally gave in and let me try some.

“We went back to your dorm once we were done, and you stole my beanie, which you didn’t give back for another two weeks.”

Her eyes watered at how detailed his memory was, hanging onto his every word like she was a little girl listening to her mom read her the most magical bedtime story about a princess and a prince. 

“You can’t cry on me yet, I haven’t finished.” He wiped a stray tear from her cheek, smiling as she let out a choked laugh filled with emotion.

“You made me watch The Little Mermaid because you like singing 'Part of Your World’ and then you fell asleep for the first time in my arms and I don’t think I’ve ever looked back.”

Her breath hitched because she remembered that, remembered how Luke grinned at her whenever a song came on and she started singing it, whenever she’d quote a line or make a random, out of pocket comment because Ariel said something that made her think of something else, whenever she would explain to him how stupid or thoughtful an action was. She remembered everything about that day, just as well as he did. 

“That wasn’t the first moment I thought you were gorgeous, not even the second or the third or the fourth, but- it’s my favorite one because you looked happy, you looked like you couldn’t care what anyone else thought, and that is infinitely more beautiful than anything else.”

“Luke…”

“Yeah?” He played with the end of one of her braids, twirling the hair around his fingers.

“You really think that?”

“There’s nothing that I think that is truer than that, pretty girl.”

Their eyes met again, and he couldn’t help but lean in, his lips pressing against hers softly. 

The kiss didn’t last long, y/n barely getting a chance to kiss back before splashes of water hit her, both of them jumping in sync to see the three 22-year-olds staring at them with innocent expressions. 

“Whoops.”

“Leave it to them to ruin the moment,” Luke grumbled, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, causing her to laugh and tangle her fingers in his curls.

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[nobodyinfart]

How would they react to your jealousy?

PSA: green is such'a good look on you, dear

Let’s be real, all of them will attract attention from different groups of people (oftentimes, not from just one sexual or gender orientation). There is no doubt that there will be instances where your jealousy sparks brighter than ever, seeing a cheeky hand on your lover that sends your blood boiling. Of course, you are secure in your relationship,, but that’s not to say that the boys will not have a certain reaction to your possessive attitude. 

For our beloved Soap, he is the life of the party. More often than not, he will be seen in the middle of the dance floor pulling off the cheekiest dance moves known to man. Like hot damn, who taught him how to swing his hips like that? For him, it’s more of the aftermath - hearing you growl at the offender with the sleazy hand to get off your boyfriend or you’d rip them a new one had to be the greatest aphrodisiac to exist. That fire behind your eyes is so pretty, a spark that Johnny is sure would lead to fireworks in bed later on. He can’t help himself, really - not when he knows that he would be railed out of his thoughts later. For a good couple of days, no one even dares to approach him - with the way his hickeys make him look like he’s been mauled by a bear. That pleased smirk he wears does make you suspicious that he swings his hips extra hard intentionally - as if he wanted some hopeless idiot to chase his tail.

Gaz is no doubt the residential pretty boy, like come on. Those chocolate brown eyes look too alluring to ignore, beckoning him many free drinks along with irritating company. Even at work, there is a threat from the higher-ups to not fall for his puppy dog eyes, no matter the request. Unlike playful Soap, I don’t think Gaz is the type to get you jealous on purpose - since he seems to be very content with being off the market to everyone else. However, that’s not to say there aren’t people who will try to get the elusive Kyle. Definitely the type of guy who will sass the other person to deter their advances, that sharp tongue paired with the nastiest attitude. If that’s not enough,,, let’s just say his darling’s shadow is starting to loom over his intruder - here’s to hoping you will go easy on this one, not all of them can handle your threatening like the last one.

Captain Price may just be surprised at the fact that he can still get game,, since he isn’t the conventional attractive type people go swarming for. Unbeknownst to him, age is just a number to many and he caters to a different taste that is still well in-demand. Maybe it’s a barrack bunny, hoping to climb up the hierarchy - not observant enough to notice that the absence of his wedding ring on his finger because it was looped onto his necklace. Captain is sure to mention being taken - happily, he will add - but not to much avail, the bunny pursuits rather intensively. Rumours fly, and it’s safe to say that the barrack bunny’s next visit would be hijacked. You on his lap with a raised eyebrow and a dazed Price with an absolutely dazed expression, his lips swollen enough for the poor soul to know that he was very much accounted for.

There are two schools of thought for Ghost, that he’s well aware he’s smoking or that he’s in denial. I’m a firm believer that dear Simon Riley knows he’s a looker. C’mon, anyone who sees that hunk of a body whips their head to gawk when he walks past, he has to be an idiot to not notice. He has biceps big enough to crush someone’s head - and the perfect size for arms to loop around for a hug. Along with the yummiest ass on this earth, the man is eye candy. Personally, Simon is the type to not acknowledge some admirer’s existence - just a chuff of acknowledgement translated into a simple thanks. Hell, you don’t even have to move a muscle - since Simon’s nonchalant attitude changes when he sees you. The man moving to your side faster than the other can blink, the soft look of hs brown eyes enough for all to see how much he adores you. Admirer, what admirer? Doll, he’s all yours - heart and soul with your name etched like an engraving to metal.

On the other hand,,, I believe that they will be equally tempted if you were to scoff at their company - a hint of mockery in your tone, as if you're in disbelief that these flies would ever appeal to your beloved… the yummy possibility that you are confident of their love enough to know that their attention is entirely yours,,, IS SO YUMMY. Maybe, your own payback or giving them a gentle smooch just for the flirt’s idol to melt at your feet? WALK THEM LIKE A DOG, WOOF WOOOOFFFF

[emskryptonite]

Heartbreak

a/n: ahhhhhh my first fic here!!! i'm a teensy bit nervous but mostly excited!! this was written for my bestie @heartsforjh but i hope everyone enjoys it!! also just a psa: if you enjoy feel free to drop a follow! my inbox is always open so feel free to come chat whenever!! MWAH ❤️

Summary: Being best friends with Dick Grayson was easy, and falling in love with him was even easier. Everything gets a lot more complicated, though, when you realize you have a disease that can only form through unrequited love.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson x fem!Queen!reader, Wally West x fem!Queen!reader if you really squint

Word Count: 3.6k

Content/Warnings: Hanahaki AU, unrequited love, angst, not really any comfort, Dick isn't present the entire way through (mostly by mentions until the end), not proofread, reader is described at Oliver Queen’s daughter but it only says it once (i think) so it’s easy to ignore (otherwise could be read as gn!reader), I think that's all but if I missed something let me know!!

You really shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course, only you could love someone so strongly, despite the feelings not being returned, that you would contract a disease so rare that some people still think it to be folklore. 

You met Dick Grayson when the both of you were nine, right after Bruce adopted him and he officially became Bruce’s ward. The billionaire had wanted the young boy to have a few friends his age, hoping it would help him adjust. So, he got Barry Allen to bring over his nephew, Wally West, and Oliver Queen to bring over his daughter, you. The rest was history after that; you were three peas in a pod, rarely ever seen without the other two. 

You suppose it was inevitable for you to fall for one of the two boys as you all grew older, and of course, it had to be Dick. How couldn’t it be, though? He was effortlessly beautiful, and he knew all the best ways to make you laugh. He brightened up the room every time he walked in, having the radiance and the gravitational pull of the sun. Wally was wonderful in every way, no matter how talkative he can be, but Dick Grayson is just way too easy to love.

Unfortunately for you, you would spend the majority of your teen years loving him from a distance, while he spent the majority of his going from relationship to relationship. You had been forced to watch from the sidelines as he went from one girl to the next, and of course, you couldn’t even hate a single one of them because heaven forbid he dated outside of your extensive friend group. From Zatanna to Barbara to Kori, you stood aside and watched the boy you love fall in love with others over and over and over again. Eventually, you had sort of made peace with it; that is, until last week when you coughed up a flower petal.

You were nothing short of confused as you stared at the pink petal resting in your palm. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what type of flower the petal was from at first. It took days of research to find out that it belonged to a primrose. Shortly after, the internet informed you that primroses (specifically pink ones) are often a representation of unrequited love, and that’s when it clicked for you.

You were quite the reader; your father highly encouraged gaining as much knowledge as possible. You read about the disease before, but you, like most of the world, believed it to be a made-up story, something to ease the minds of people whose love isn’t returned. You figured it was a sort of legend, thought up to more or less say, “Yeah, sure, they don’t love you back, but hey, at least you don’t have flowers growing from your lungs because of it!” Except, you do. You do have flowers growing in your lungs, taking up all the space where the air you breathe in should be. 

Since you had read up on the disease years ago, you were more than aware of the two options you have treatment-wise. You could get surgery before the plant grows too large, but you’d lose all memory of the person you love. That means you wouldn’t remember a single minute of the time you’ve spent with Dick, none of the laughs, none of the tears, none of the slow patrol nights spent on rooftops, knowing one of you shouldn’t have left your city to go hang out with the other. Besides, what does that mean for Wally? Half of your memories with him overlap with half your memories of Dick. Would there just be bits of your friendship that you would never be able to recall?

As unnerving as all of that is, and as much as you don’t want to lose your memories, you know the only other option is letting the plant continue to grow until it completely takes over. Yeah, you could either completely forget the person you love the most (and quite possibly parts of other relationships you have), or you could die because a primrose plant took over your lungs. 

Of course, there technically is a cure, but you’re not getting your hopes up any time soon. If the one you love gives you a confession, a real one, one that they mean, the plant will die, and you’ll go back to life as normal. However, you’ve silently loved Dick Grayson for ten years now. You’ve watched as he’s loved every girl your age except for you for ten years now. If he wanted you, he would’ve made his move by now. 

You know what your options are, but more importantly, you know that no one under any circumstances can know of your condition.

Wally found out. You swore you could make it through one movie night, but halfway through the first movie, the coughing started, and but the time it stopped, you’d coughed up two entire flowers’ worth of petals. Wally was freaked out at first, to say the least.

“Oh, my god. Are you alright? You could’ve told me you were sick. We could’ve just reschedu- Are those flower petals? Where did flower petals come from?” His voice halts to a stop when he sees the drained look on your face as you stare up at him. “Are- Are they from you?” His brows are high on his forehead, and you can’t help the guilt that crawls up your spine from making him worry.

“Wally, please don’t worry-” He’s quick to cut you off.

“Don’t worry? You’re coughing up flower petals! Why would I not worry about that? You know what? I’m calling Dick. You’ll listen to him.”

“No!” His head snaps toward your direction, “You can’t tell Dick! Please don’t tell Dick, Wally.” Tears are brimming in your eyes now, and it breaks Wally’s heart a bit.

“Okay. Okay, I won’t tell him, but you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on, alright? We’re best friends, so whatever this is, I’m gonna help you through it. That’s what I’m here for.”

You hesitate, but you know deep down that you need the help and, more importantly, the reassurance. “Alright, I’ll tell you everything, but I’m being serious, Wallace, this stays between us. No one else can know.” You level him with a glare, letting him know how serious you are.

“You have my word.”

“I, um, I have this really rare disease. It’s called Hanahaki. Basically, when you really love someone and they don’t love you back, flowers will begin to grow in your lungs, until eventually, they take over.”

“So, what do we do? Is there a cure? Or- or some kind of treatment?” He shifts closer to you, and you see the worry deep in his eyes again.

“The only real cure is if the person I love feels the same way and confesses to me, but I know he doesn’t. So, that’s off the table,” you sigh.

“So, what’s left. You just deal with this forever?”

“Not exactly…” You trail off a bit. “I could have surgery done to remove the plants from my lungs, but in doing so, I would lose all memories of the person I’m in love with.”

“I’m assuming you don’t want to do that, then?”

“No. Not particularly.”

“Where does that leave us- you?”

You stare at Wally for a long moment, knowing that the next thing that comes out of your mouth just might break him. You don’t want to hurt your friend, but you know that he deserves to know. “The flowers will eventually take over my lungs, and I’ll… I’ll die, Wally.”

“What?” He stands from the couch, his voice rising once more. “So, that’s it then? I just have to sit around and watch my best friend die! You can’t do that to me, to any of us! You have to get the surgery. There’s no way this person is that significant. I’ll help you recover. I’ll-”

“It’s Dick.”

His head whips in your direction once more, the worry and stress on his face giving way to something more solemn, more serious, so not Wally. “What?” He practically whispers the word, more shocked than you thought he would be. Apparently, you had hidden this crush pretty well.

“I’m in love with Dick. That’s why I don’t wanna forget. I can’t- I can’t forget him, Wally. I can’t.” You’re breaking down now, and your best friend is quick to gather you into his arms, reclaiming his seat on the couch.

“That’s why you didn’t want him to know. I’m sorry, so so sorry.”

You both know there isn’t much more to be said after that. So, that’s how your movie night ended, with a movie paused halfway through and you curled up in Wally’s arms, crying until you couldn’t anymore. And if Wally shed a few tears of his own after he was sure you were asleep, he’d never tell a soul.

It had been a couple of months since that night, and your condition was worsening. The petals you’d been coughing up were now covered in blood when they surfaced. You knew you were running out of time, but you didn’t want to admit it. 

You had gotten good at dodging Dick’s offers to hang out, and it had gotten easier when he got back together with Kori. There was a small part of you that was hurt, the part that had the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe he did love you back and that all of this would go away soon. Needless to say, that part of you had been squished like a bug. The rest of you, though? The rest of you couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. The rest of you wanted to hate him for not returning your feelings, wanted to blame him for the condition you’re in, but you couldn’t. You know better than anyone that you can’t help how you feel. You can’t help that you love him with every fibre of your being, the same way that he can’t help that he’ll only ever see you as a friend.

The most difficult part of all of this, though, has been avoiding Dick’s family and your own family. They weren’t buying your excuses any longer, and honestly, you were running out of them anyway. You missed them all dearly, so you decided you would just have to tough it up and power through it for the day. Bruce invited you, your dad, and Roy over to the manor for dinner, and you were much more excited than you like to admit. Dick was tied up in Bludhaven, so you didn’t have to worry about him. It was all going so well; you should’ve known that something would go wrong.

“So, Ollie, how is Queen Industries doing?” Ah, yes, you’ve reached the point of the evening where your father and Bruce talk business because they really can’t help themselves. It would’ve been fine, albeit boring, if you and Tim hadn’t started snickering. It choked you up a bit, the air catching in your throat to make it tingle, and then the coughing started. You tried to run to the nearest bathroom, hoping you could hide it, but it was no use. 

This was easily the worst coughing fit you’d ever had, and although it started as the usual bloody petals, it only multiplied from there. You were only able to stop coughing and catch your breath when an entire pink primrose landed on the table in front of you. You slowly look up, taking a weary look at the faces around you through teary eyes. You’re met with nothing but concern and fear, and it makes you feel even worse. You want to say something, to try to make things better, but the room starts spinning. You’re only able to get out one word before you collapse into your father’s arms, “Wally.”

When you wake up, you find Wally on one side of the hospital bed you're on and Roy on the other. You look around to gather your bearings and see your father leaning into Dinah’s arms, most likely for comfort. You can clearly see the concern on everyone’s faces, and that same guilt kicks back up. Sure, it’s not your fault that you’re in this condition, not really, but you should’ve told them, warned them. You know that now.

As you look back at Wally, Roy notices that you’re awake, “Hey, how ya feelin’?” His voice is soft, uncertain.

“Uh, not great, right now.” You wince as the two men help you sit up.

“Yeah, that was pretty scary for us. I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt,” Wally chimes in. It’s that your father realizes you’ve woken up and makes his way to the foot of your bed with Dinah close by. 

“I wish you had told me,” he says, solemnly.

“Dad-”

“No, it’s alright. I know you had your reasons. Bruce looked into your diagnosis and briefed us all. Please, please, tell me you’re getting that surgery.” There are tears in his eyes, and for once, Oliver Queen is struggling to keep it together.

“I, um, no, I hadn’t planned on it.” You turn your head to your left, unable to look your father in the eye.

“Sweetheart-”

“I don’t want to- I can’t forget him, Dad.”

“Honey, I know this person is obviously very important to you, and I understand. I know how it feels to love someone, but think about everyone else in your life. You have so many other people who love you, and it would really hurt them to lose you.” 

The two of you stare at one another for a short while. Your father’s eyes were pleading, silently begging you to consider his side. You were consumed with thoughts, caught in the middle. Finally, you make your decision.

“Alright. I’ll have the surgery, but only on one condition.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart, I’ll make it happen.”

“I have to talk to Dick. Face to face.”

“Are you sure?” Roy questions from beside you.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go call him now,” Wally says, although he seems a bit unsure.

The next half hour is filled with the others taking turns checking up on you and trying to lift your spirits. At some point during that time, Bruce called Dr. Leslie Thompkins to come perform your surgery, assuming the conversation with Dick goes well. 

It’s nice, really, to have all of them here with you. You’ve missed them the past couple of months, and now more than ever, you regret avoiding them.

Soon enough, the man of the hour walks in, and of course, Kori strolls in behind him. You feel horrible for being so disappointed that she’s here; after all, she probably wanted to check on you as well. You just wish Dick would’ve come by himself. 

Everyone, thankfully, is more than aware that this conversation should be private, and they all leave the two of you alone without having to be asked. The worry is evident on Dick’s face as he nears your bed, and suddenly, you’re not sure if you can hurt him like this. Honestly, no matter which option you go with, it’ll do some damage to your best friend, but which one would be easier for him to recover from?

“Wally said you’re sick? That you collapsed at dinner? What’s going on?” His brows scrunch together, and he reaches his right arm out to lay a hand on your shoulder.

“I, um, I have Hanahaki, Dick. It’s a really rare disease that can only form out of unrequited love.” You play with your fingers in your lap, refusing to look at your best friend.

“So- So you’re in love with someone, and they don’t love you back? Who is stupid enough not to love someone as amazing as you?” He seems utterly shocked, and the irony of his words isn’t lost on you. In fact, it hits you so hard that your throat starts to tingle, and before you know it, you’ve coughed up another whole primrose. You catch a glimpse of Dick’s stunned expression, and you realize just how little he knows.

“I have primroses growing in my lungs. Eventually, they’ll take over, unless he magically begins to love me back.”

“Wha- So, you know he doesn’t? Like for sure. There’s zero chance that this guy returns your feelings.”

“I mean, I haven’t outright asked him, but it’s obvious. He’s never seen me in a romantic light, and he never will.”

“So, what are your options?”

“Well, there’s only one other option, surgery. Dr. Thompkins is actually here to perform it now, but I just wanted to ask your opinion.”

“I’m assuming there’s some kind of downside, then.”

“Yeah. I, uh. I wouldn’t remember him at all.”

“Look, I know this guy is really important to you, and the thought of not remembering him probably really hurts you. But, no matter who this guy is, the rest of us need you here.”

“So, you really think I should go through with the surgery, no matter who the guy is?”

“No matter who it is.” He seems so sure, so confident that this is the right move that you almost want to tell him. You almost do. You lay your right hand over his own, ready to lay out your feelings, to see if that changes his mind, but as soon as you open your mouth, your mind is rushed with memories of every time you had watched him love someone else. You relive every time he called you a “good friend” after you consoled him after a rough breakup. You recall every time he excitedly told you which one of your friends he was dating. It makes you sick to your stomach, and you have to hold back another coughing fit.

“I’ll go through with the surgery then,” you settle for. You give him a tight-lipped smile. You know this would hurt him, but you couldn’t bear to continue to live through the torture of loving him while knowing he’d never truly see you.

Just moments later, your friends and family were ushered away as Dr. Thompkins began to sedate you before the surgery.

“We’ll be right here when you wake up,” Dick smiles warmly at you, attempting to bring you comfort.

You wake a few hours later with a headache, a scratchy throat, and the odd urge to breathe as deeply as you can. You hear people shuffling all around you, checking your vitals, making sure everything has gone well; someone even hands you a glass of water. You take a few sips while your eyes adjust, the blurriness slowly dissipating. When your eyesight is back to normal, you take a slow look around, smiling at the fact that so many people came to be sure you’re alright. 

However, as you glance around, there’s one face that you don’t quite recognize. You don’t question it for the moment. You recognize the woman under his arm as your friend Kori, so you reason that she must have brought her boyfriend along.

You’re quite shocked, however, when he steps forward with a bright smile on his face.

“See! I told you everything would be fine and dandy!”

You furrow your brows, and your head tilts to the side a bit. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

You watch as his face falls, and you notice your best friend, Wally, walking up behind the strange man. The man’s mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but Wally grabs his shoulders, gently tugging him into another room. You shoot your father a curious look, and you receive one that says he’ll fill you in later.

“She was messing with me, right, Wally?” Dick is pacing in front of one of his best friends, hands running through his hair, mind going a thousand miles a minute.

“It was you, Dick.” Wally doesn’t know what else to say. He knows you might be a little mad at him later, but Dick deserves an explanation.

“What?” He turns toward the redhead, breathless.

“She was in love with you. She had been for, like, ten years, since we were teenagers.” Wally watches his friend completely deflate, a man who once brightened up every room he entered, now overcome with the shadow of grief, mourning a friendship that you couldn’t even recall.

“So, she doesn’t remember me at all? We’ve been friends since we were nine, and now there’s just nothing?”

“It looks that way, yeah. I’m so sorry, man.”

“Wait. You knew?”

“Well, I-”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve done something!”

“Don’t act like you’ve been in love with her this whole time! If you were, she wouldn’t have gotten that stupid disease in the first place!”

“I could have tried! I could have- I could have-” Dick cuts himself off mid-sentence, falling to his knees on the floor, tears now streaming down his face. 

Wally is quick to join him, tears quickly welling up in his eyes as well. “I wanted to tell you, man. You have to believe me, but she made me promise not to. And, god, just be glad you didn’t have to see how bad she got. It tore me apart to watch her cough up those petals. I’ve never seen her so worn down.”

“I did that to her…”

“No. C’mon, don’t think like that. Neither of you could help how you felt about one another. I know the situation sucks, but it’s all over now. You guys can start over, let her get to know you again.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess so.” As Dick sat there, mourning a friendship that never existed to you, he felt a twisting pain begin to grow in his chest, clawing at his insides, ready to take him down to his lowest level, and he couldn’t help but think about just how much it felt like heartbreak.

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[revelboo]

Wheeljack watching Megatrons psa. Poor boy gets so frazzled.

Also may we get some jazz or tfp ratchet crums?

Or idw ratchet crums. Whichever tickles your fancy

🤣 Poor Jackie once he sees it. How about IDW doc-bot?

Bought a box of the Blokees Defender Line and they’re just so baby

Feel Like Rain Pt 4

IDW Ratchet x Reader

• Still mass displaced, he shifts at your back. Attention on that small hand still gripping his as he rubs a servo against the side of your hand. Feels your head move against his chassis, soft hair sliding against him as you drift back to alertness again. “I’m here,” he whispers as your eyes open and you’re calmer this time. Hooking his arm around you so he can gently tip your head up and see those unfocused eyes. “Do you remember me?”

• Of course, he’s the owner of that low, reassuring voice that whispered you through the pain. Not human, but it doesn’t really matter. “Name?” Your voice is rougher than you expect, throat aching. Coughing softly as he shifts against you and brings a container to your lips and you don’t hesitate, drinking greedily and trying to hold onto it when he gently pulls it away.

• “Not so much, yet. Let’s see how you do first,” he says, servo swiping your bottom lip dry. So much more fragile than his normal patients. Helpless and soft in his arms. Needing him and those eyes stare up at him, waiting. “I’m Ratchet.” And you’re doing so much better than he expected. Not panicking, but then you’re probably too exhausted. Moving against him, he watches you begin to take stock. Examining your bound arm and leg. “What do you remember?”

• Gingerly making sure you can wiggle your fingers and toes, you glance up at that kind face then away. “I wrecked. A deer- or a dog? Something ran out in front of me.” Something big. It’d been dark, though, and you remember seeing the movement and swerving away, going off the road and down into the ravine. Being trapped and in pain. The sun coming up and the temperature climbing as you struggled to get loose. Then him. His voice.

• “I did what I could for you,” he says, watching you checking that you can feel your extremities. And that guilt slips in again. Guilt that he’d kept you instead of just taking you to a human medic for proper treatment. But he hadn’t been able to trust your care to a stranger. “You’ll need time to heal.” Venting as you lean back against him, the top of your head brushing his chin. Relaxed in his arms like you have no concerns. Like you feel safe there. “Feel like trying some food?”

• Leaning so you can see his face and those optics staring down at you, there’s an impulse to reach up and touch him and the fingers of your good hand brush his jaw before you realize you really shouldn’t. Because he freezes at your touch as if shocked and leans back some to break the contact and your eyes drop. Why had you done that? He’s a stranger no matter how familiar he seems and not only that, alien and possibly dangerous. But you don’t really believe that. No one with such gentle, kind hands could be a threat to you.

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[sencubussubs]

Stay Consistent or Face the Consequences

Right, yes, mean title. But the truth is the law is always working perfectly. So to keep you in check here’s my lil story time of me falling off and facing the consequences (and how i’ve picked myself back up).

I have been talking to my SP for months. Now I won’t lie SP and I have a long history from before I knew the law, and I have greatly had to work on mental arguments etc as well as negative expectations. After 2-3 months we began talking properly, not just as friends, but still taking it slow. Two weeks ago he finally verbalised how he felt about me and it was AMAZING. But over the course of the last 3 months I have also been PARANOID. going through his followers/following, feeling insecure, “confronting” him about it all while also expecting him to react negatively.

And how do you think that went? negatively. And the more I allowed myself to get up all in the 3D, get mad etc, the law was working and he reflected my behaviours, he now did start interacting with the girls i was scared of. Finally a bomb dropped that in the last couple days he had started talking to another girl, one of the ones i kept looking up in my own time.

Of course I spiralled, and of course he was straight up mean, because all of this, were fears and paranoia that I was letting run rampant. The man who wants me and wants to do everything with me was gone because i fed and fed and fed myself this horrible version of him. So what else could the law do? my affirmations of him loving me did not outweigh the sheer amount of fear and overthinking i did about him.

It worked well enough that he told me he really did mean how he felt about me, yet that wasn’t stopping him from talking to another girl.

The simple fact is it’s all there. The reason he started acting different, the reason things didn’t go right or fast or blah blah, and guess what the reason was? Ding ding ding…. me. The constant fear about if he really liked me, about these other girls. And it hurt so bad - and worst of all I ruined my favourite day, valentine’s day!!

After spiralling, crying, complaining to all my friends (ughhh), swearing off of him… I did have to realise that it wasn’t his fault. He does love me, but the law is the law. I gave him no choice on how to act, i let my fears run rampant in my daily life every single day. I let myself go from being priority to being an insecure mess who didn’t feel good enough.

This story has a good end though, because the law is the law. Picking myself up and dusting myself off, at least i now have a very clear area to target with my affirmations and my story with him. Simply revise the situation, be true to how much he loves me, how all he does is tell this other girl how much he loves me ;). It really is that simple (I have manifested a LOT, I promise it really is).

Hold that mental diet up because you deserve to thrive, not be a side dish. Manifestation is easy, it’s up to you to hold yourself accountable.

PSA: do not now be terrified of every little negative thought you have, those don’t matter. I let my insecurities become my new story, 90% of my thoughts when i thought about us. You’re doing fine, just do right by yourself. <3

[chthonic-sorcery]

PSA for new Pagans❗️🚩🚩🚩

(Overlooked pagan holidays)

Paganism isn't a singular religion,

it is an umbrella term for thousands of different pre-christian polytheistic faiths that span Antiquity. Heathenry (Norse polytheism) Mesopotamian, Phonecian, Hellenic Polytheism, Kemeticism/Netjerism, Slavic Polytheism, Celtic, Roman, Basque, etc. It goes on and on. Sometimes, these religions are even combined or synchronized, like Greco-Egyptian polytheism.

So, no, not all pagans celebrate Yule, or Beltane, or whatever.

Yule itself seems to be more of a Wiccan (new age) revival than a continued tradition.

There are quite literally thousands of holidays and traditions celebrated that no one talks about because people, especially newer converts, seem to believe paganism is its own singular religion.

So, here are some of my favorite holidays I celebrate that aren't usually talked about:

The Anthesteria:

A 3 day drunken celebration in honor of Dionysus and the Dead. Houses would be decorated with spring flowers, ghosts swept from the home; feasting and drinking no matter your status, and offerings given to the Dead and the Furies so that may not harm you, as they were said to roam the earth at this time.

Tar/pitch was also spread onto doorframes and black hellebore was hung to protect the home.

It was held each year from the 11th to the 13th of the month of Anthesterion, around the time of the first full moon of the year.

The Haloea:

The closest Greek equivalent of "Yule" celebrating the winter solstice and which honored Demeter, the goddess of agriculture, crops, fertility, and harvest.

During the festival, people would celebrate by preparing a rich meal with dough cakes in the shape of genitalia, telling lusty jokes and swearing with vulgarity, singing, drinking, and dancing.

The festival took place in Athens and ended in Eleusis during the month of Poseideon, which is December.

The Dionysia:

where plays originated! Comedy, tragedy, and drama.

The Festival of Dionysus, otherwise known as the “Greater Dionysia” took place in the spring (around our March) when playwrights would compete to entertain Athenian citizens,

complete with parades of giant phalluses and sacrifices of bulls!

The Feat of Sekhmet:

an annual festival at the beginning of the year, which began around August for the Egyptians following Wep Ronpet, or the New Year.

The festival was a time of drunkeness with red beer and wine, where Egyptians would dance, play music.

The goal was to imitate the drunkenness that had once stopped the goddess Sekhmet from destroying humanity.

According to Egyptian mythology, Sekhmet became so bloodthirsty from humanity betraying her father Ra, that she nearly destroyed all humans on Earth. The other deities asked Ra to stop her, and he eventually pacified her by making her believe the wine or beer was blood and she drank herself to sleep, turning into either Hathor or Bastet.

the Aphrodisia:

The festival of Aphrodite! The festival occurred during the month of Hekatombaion, which modern scholars recognize as starting from the third week in July to the third week of August.

the first ritual of the festival would be to purify the temple with the blood from a dove, the sacred bird of Aphrodite. Afterwards, worshipers would carry sacred images of the goddess, as well as Peitho, in a procession to be washed.

During the festival it was not permitted to make bloody sacrifices, since the altar could not be polluted with the blood of the sacrifice victims, which were usually white male goats.

This of course excludes the blood of the sacred dove, made at the beginning of the ritual to purify the altar. In addition to live male goats, worshipers would offer fire, flowers, and incense.

This was even celebrated in Thebes, Egypt, where Aphrodite had a large cult following.

Wep Ronpet:

Wep Ronpet is the Kemetic New Year.

It falls usually somewhere btwn late July and mid-August. The date for Wep Ronpet varies each year, as it is marked by the rising of Sopdet, modernly known as Sirius. Wep Ronpet is in fact one day long.

However, there are 5 days of excitement leading up to Wep Ronpet that we typically call the Epagomenal Days, or the Intercalary Days.

The Epag. days came about from a myth where Nut got pregnant with 5 kids. Ra got upset about this and forbade her from giving birth on any day of the year. Thoth, being the tricky guy that he is played a game of Senet with the moon, and upon winning this game of Senet, he received a small portion of the moon which he used to create an extra 5 days which she can use to birth her five children.

Traditionally, these days are said to be a little weird because they are ‘outside of the norm’. Usually great care was taken not to take too many risks.

So, each day is dedicated to the god that was born on that particular day. The order that it goes in is:

Osiris

Heru-wer (Horus the Elder)

Set

Aset

Nebhet (Nephthys)

Normally, celebrations of Wep Ronpet include prayers to Sekhmet against the 7 arrow or plagues of the year: libations and offerings to the Netjeru, song, dance, feast.

Ritual bathing for purification is sometimes done afterwards.

Personally, I like to perform execration, banishing all the illness, negativity and harm from the previous and coming year.

[olderthannetfic]

God the bottom trans guy thing in fandom is so fucking stupid. I’m a trans man. I top exclusively. One of my favorite ships has a character often headcanoned as trans and I like this headcanon for him but I ALSO see him as a bottom. This has led to people making baseless ridiculous accusations about the people who headcanon him as a trans because most of the fandom portrays him as a bottom. I am a trans man top who prefers him as a bottom because he IS NOT ME. He is his own character! I also have plenty of cis characters I have top bottom preferences for but of course that’s policed and attacked too isn’t it lmao. The issue is no one in the fandom knows I’m trans. If I add that to my bio I’m sure that would make me ~an authority~ on the matter or whatever the fuck. God it’s all so annoying lol I’m here for pornography.

--

I used to be annoyed about a whole constellation of fandom trends until I realized they are all the same trend. It's just the fandom fave. Who's the woobie with a horrific backstory constantly for no reason whether or not it fits canon? The fave. Who gets the trans headcanons? The fave. Who warps all the characters around them into OOC ogres who deserve to grovel or bumbling morons who need to be taught a lesson? The fave. Who's neurodivergent and giving a boring PSA about it in this fic? The fave. Who's always the bottom? etc.

If the fandom in aggregate is making this character both trans and a bottom, it probably just means the character is popular.

[s0urw00lf]

Getting older

IMPORTANT PSA: 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ����𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃

Warnings: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐫*𝐩𝐞 )𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛*𝐬𝐞 )𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞)

An: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭’𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚

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“It’s about time you figure out what you're going to do y/n, you're nineteen now and your sisters already gone to college by this age” your dad spoke from the doorway of your room as you sat staring at yourself in the mirror.

Your parents seemed to be excited at finally getting rid of you and that’s how it's always been. You, overshadowed by your sister. No matter how good you did in school, or how well you did on a hunt, they always made sure to point out something you did wrong.

After your dad left you continued staring at yourself. A single teardrop falling from your eye.

At dinner that night it was quiet, and tense. The silence filled with the scraping of metal against glass, barely audible chewing and everything that remained unsaid between you and your parents. “Can i uh- can i talk to you guys” you asked quietly, pushing the food around on your plate.

The silence thickened when they stopped “of course honey” your mom spoke sounding almost forced. You sighed “I’ve been- having a hard time with… life really” you nervously laugh, glancing up at them “I mean I feel sad all of the time, and school is getting harder and I'm sorta feeling… lost” you shrink into your seat.

You miss the look your parents give each other. “Is this because of what I said earlier?” Your dad asks, making you look up finally “no i sw-“ “i cannot believe this,” your mom scoffed “ you know what you are so dramatic y/n. All we ask of you is to figure out your future, is that so much?!” Your mom slams down her utensils, making you flinch.

“No mom, that's not what this is about, i just- i need someone to talk to. Someone to listen to me please!” You cry, your dad sighs rubbing his forehead “you know i had a hard day at work i don't have time for this-“ “you can't make time for your daughter? I am reaching out and asking you for help! If i was y/s/n you’d drop everything!” You cut him off standing up so hard it made your chair flip over

Your parents glared at you “go to your room” your dad said pointing in the direction of your room. You scoff a laugh as tears form in your eyes.

Who knew you could be alone in a house full of people

After that conversation happened you left. Off on your own at nineteen, somehow you’d fallen more into hunting and you were way better at it without your parents hovering over you, you ran into hunters more than you would’ve liked too.

”You a hunter girl?” Seemed to be a question you got asked more often than not during your first year of solo hunting.

“You got a boyfriend?” The man named Hank that had been following you asked you, as you walked from the house of a victim to the car you’d manage to get. “No i dont” you reply dryly turning around to face him when you reach the car.

His eyes raked up and down your body “how old are you anyway, y’look a little young to be huntin all by yourself. I could teach you some special tricks”

They flirted with you, asking you out on what a hunter considered a date which was just drinks and sex and when you declined they’d completely change and turn into the very thing you’d hunted. Monsters.

”I'm twenty, and no thanks” you say turning around to open your car door but before you could he grabbed your arm roughly turning you around “you’ll regret that” he seethed. You yanked your arm out of his grasp putting on a faux thinking face “no, i don't think i will” you said, then got in your car and drove off.

He found you a little over a week later sitting alone in your car on the side of the road. He caught you off guard and forced himself onto you.

He did what he wanted, no matter how hard you pleaded, you’d even apologized, he just grunted above you while the tears flowed down your eyes waiting for it to be over.

After that you began taking up hunts less and less. Life had gotten more shitty and you felt and looked like shit. Nightmares plagued your mind in your sleep and even while you were awake.

Certain noises, smells and even words triggered you. You couldn’t feel more weak.

That was until you met Derek, you were interviewing a family in Seattle when he appeared, seemingly to do the very thing you were doing. You two worked together on the hunt and he asked you out, this time you accepted.

”you’re very beautiful,” Derek said sincerely from the other side of the table in a semi-fancy restaurant he took you to. You laughed “yeah that’s a new one” you joke, though he didn’t take it as one, his face hardened “how could you say that? Y/n you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen” he said seriously.

You blush “thank you” you say shyly, thankful for the waiter who finally arrived with the food you’d been waiting half an hour for.

“So how’d you get into hunting?” He asked biting into his steak. You paused, at the memory. “Uh i kind of grew up doing it, not a lot though my parents were normal… I guess. But i moved out and took it up full time” you answer keeping the trauma to yourself.

You were young, stupid, and he was polite, attractive, and three years older than you.

He made you so happy and paid attention to you. He made you feel important unlike your parents, until he got angry. He threw things, broke things, punched holes in walls leaving you to pay for it.

On days like that you’d go stay with Bobby, the man had named himself your unofficial father after finding out what happened between you and yours.

And one specific time you were there and Sam and Dean Winchester were there. You hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to them too much, because they were only visiting for a second but the younger brother had caught your attention immediately.

His gentle eyes sucked you in and it didn’t help that he was extremely attractive.

“Sam Winchester” he introduced himself holding his hand out for you to shake “y/n l/n” you reply accepting his hand, it felt like it belonged in your hand and that was weird to you.

“How do you know Bobby?” He asked. You let out a breathy laugh “i think if i told you you’d run away from me” you say. Sam's eyes softened; he could see that you were dealing with something.

Your appearance was fine, but your eyes gave away everything, they were tired. Drained, barely holding any life and for some reason that made his heart clench.

Before he could say anything Dean had interrupted, saying that they had to hit the road if they wanted to get where they were going before dark. Sam begrudgingly stood up saying goodbye to you.

When he left he took a small piece of the happiness you had left with him.

Tag-list: @fandom-princess-forevermore @sweetiecelin @flow33didontsmoke @dear-bambi2 @multiversefanfics @l0v3cuts

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐌𝐞, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | gojō satoru

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: bully! Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you + Gojo are college juniors - first kiss - fingering (f! receiving) - sqüiřtıng - virginity loss - corruption kink - missionary + deep impact positions - clitoral play - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy, you sillies!) - premature ejaculation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, princess) - itty bitty possessiveness - mention of spit/drool and tears.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k

“Yo.”

“Yes, Satoru?”

“You never had your first kiss, huh?”

Gojo Satoru takes pleasure in being your bully — nothing in his third year of college gives him much joy than being your one source of torment. Sure, he’s got everything: being the campus’ grounds #1 heartthrob, a star player on the men’s basketball team, and an excellent scholar in all his courses despite being a dickhead. But, even if he possesses the things that put him at the top of the class body, his other fountain of entertainment comes from something - or someone - that playing ball or dormitory parties can’t produce the same level of internal enjoyment. 

You and he were alone in his apartment, umbrellaed under the instruction of working on an upcoming project this month. Of course, boredom is evident in the tall one’s heavy sighs as he looks through multiple articles on his laptop. Cerulean orbs wander away from the device’s screen and land on the other side of the couch; another figure glued to the armrest is concentrated on typing their keyboard to notice the prying survey. 

Gojo’s ennui begins to flicker out the moment he sees you, wanting nothing to do with this damn assignment and just to mess with his favorite pushover. This is precisely why he prompts himself to ask you a question, and judging by how quickly your fingers stop typing, now his attention is hooked onto a matter way more fascinating.

He spots your flattened lips. “…Wh–Where did that come from?”

“Just curious, a random thought that came to my head.” 

“Why was that the thought that—“

“Hey, aren’t ya gonna answer the question?”

You stammer. “What makes you think I never had my first kiss?!”

He lifts a brow; his round shades shine when he smirks. “So you did have a first kiss?” Your lips open with no voice, and both silver eyebrows rise from the silent answer you’re giving, only for you to close your mouth and avert your gaze elsewhere. Gotcha, he stifles a chuckle. “Thought so, you terrible liar. Embarrassed I called you out? Haha, hilarious.”

Your eyes may be on the words of your document on your laptop, but the heat on your cheeks and the uncomfortable knot in your gut kept brewing. You chew on your lips to focus on something other than the guy getting a kick out of your lack of experience — the guy you don’t hear close and place his computer on the coffee table.

“Hey,” the closeness of his voice takes you aback, and you’re surprised to see him sit closer enough to bring a hand to close your laptop. “Wanna kiss me?”

Mortified eyelids shoot wide. “Wanna—Wh-What!?!” What the fuck is going on?!? “Why would you ask me—“

A nonchalant shrug adds more weight to your shock. “Why not? It’s just you and me, alone in my apartment at 8 o’clock. Sounds like a perfect opportunity, doncha think?” 

“Yeah, to do work!” Your emphasis fails as Gojo takes your device to add to the table surface. “I-I didn’t come here for you to question me and ask to—“

“You got someone else you’re waiting for?” He uses a hand to cage you from escaping, a knee between your legs. He knows he has the upper hand, observing behind shielded sunglasses as he awaits your response. 

“I–W-Well,” God, what did I get myself into? “Not necessarily…”

“So, do you not trust me with your first kiss?”

“That’s…That’s not the point—“

“You’re deflecting!”

“Satoru,” the way you say his name — low and soft, a pleading whisper — makes something switch for Gojo, looking at your bashful expression with hesitant hands, barely pushing his chest. “We shouldn’t…Let’s get back to the assignment?”

That wasn’t working on him; he’d never want to stop teasing you, especially now when you look too cute. “Let me kiss you one time, ‘kay? Then, we’ll go straight back to work.” He can see the cogs work in your brain, deciphering whether he is genuine. Was he? He couldn’t tell; all he was thinking about was how your lips felt. “I promise, princess.”

You didn’t mean it to happen, but you scan from his shades to his lips; now, it’s all you can see. The bob of his Adam’s apple, when he gulps, has your breath hitch, and after a few silent seconds with no movement, he begins to descend his face lower, and your lids swiftly close. So does his as he gently places his pillowy lips onto your plump ones, and a hushed squeak doesn’t go neglected.

Cherry — that’s the flavor that Gojo can taste. It has to be from the lip gloss you plastered on your lips that made them inviting to gawk at, pretty lips that the tall other couldn’t stop peering occasionally. He licks the bottom, taking in more of the taste with a soft groan. You yelp, gaping your lips further to give the man above an idea, and chew on your bottom lip. More whimpers slide past your control, hands gripping his sweatshirt as he peppers you with soft kisses, latching onto yours for longer seconds from one after the other — so much for one kiss.

You’re the one to break it off, hesitantly backing away from him to breathe. Hot skin returns to the cold air, and intimate huffs fuel into the space. You open your eyes slowly, half-lidded with knitted brows and scorching ears. You examine Gojo’s neutral expression; orbs that were once filled with reluctance are now replaced with a...wonder.

An innocent wonder that nearly has Gojo shut down from seeing as your hands steadily ring around his neck. There it is again, another switch flipped. This time, a spark ignites his brain, curiosity coursed to a more indecent field after what it feels like taking your first kiss. Because the way you’re looking under him — entirely submitted to him and his touch — wasn’t something he expected to rock his core. And all he can think about now…

…Is what taking all of your firsts would be like.

“—Taaahhh, haah…! Satoru, w-wait a min—“

“Hey, baby, tell me, what’s it like having my fingers inside you?”

Gojo’s little experiment delved into different extremes; your first kiss was the starting point of the many thoughts that perturbed his thinking. He wanted to know more about your potential firsts. For example, such as right now, how you’d be if he were the first to touch your privates. 

The atmosphere around the living room became hotter; the tepid silence switched with the erotic sounds and squeals that exited your system. Your legs spread apart, Gojo in between your thighs as his big, calloused hand swims under your panties to shove away and meet the bareness of your cunt. You were so wet, your liquids effortlessly coating his fingertips with barely any push. An entire mess between your inner thighs and labia. And that made Gojo’s mind go wild.

“Holy shit,” he chuckles in a heavy sigh. “So fucking wet and tight…Heh, you’re all like this because of a kiss, huh? So adorably pathetic.”

Refutation is impossible as he curls his forefinger inside, scraping your upper wall in a manner you never envisaged. “Sator—Mmmph…!” He keeps pushing the digit to the knuckle, touching crevices of your inner channel you could never reach. “O-Ohhh, Jesus…”

“Mmmm, fuck, you're twitching like crazy,” and Gojo was loving every second of it. The taller junior then decides to test something and creeps his middle finger near your opening, smearing itself with your come as lube. 

You sense him push the finger in, nerves heightened. “W-Wait, Satoru, I can’t—“

“Oh, yes, you can.” He interrupts you with a cheeky sneer. “You’re practically asking for it with you twitching so much. Watch.” Gojo pushes the middle digit leisurely; your beseeching babbles become increasingly incoherent when he adds the whole thing with the other finger. Now, both of them have you shrilling from their intrepid fashion, grazing on your vaginal walls with every pull and shove until his knuckles smooch your labia.

Good God, the place is so hot, your face is hot, your body’s hot, your insides feel hot — everything is just too hot for you to handle! And your brain cannot hold itself together as the seconds go. You throw your head back, your eyes sewn shut, “OhGod, ahhck! Wait, stooop! Go slow, go slo—Ohhh!” Gojo does the exact opposite; the pace of his fingers surges to a tempo you find difficult to ride through. Your entire frame locks together, preparing for the inevitable to slip past your hold, and tremors course around you as your orgasm hits you like a train.

Simultaneously as Gojo continues to rut your soapy cunt, a clear liquid disperses out of your urethra and sprays outward. Sprinkling onto the skin of your thighs and drenching your underwear. Although you’re not the only one who gets caught, Gojo at the front gets a genuine display of you showering his forearm with your essence, damping his sweatshirt in the process, and even a bit on his sunglasses.

It happens the third time: something snaps inside Gojo once he sees your oddly beautiful teary face. It’s at that moment that something in his core breaks and permeates his entire body with a force that’s been itching to get out when he kissed you earlier. He swallows thickly because the next thing he does after this will eat him alive, a queerly anticipated feeling for the white-haired man.

Of course, Gojo is astonished at what transpired, the shock in his eyes concealed by the shades. “Did you…just squirt on me?” His ears pick up the sound of you sobbing, your hands covering your face as you whine.

Massive tears roll down your cheeks, “I—hic—I told you to wait…!” 

It’s a no-brainer that Gojo pulls you off the couch and leads you to throw on top of his bed, stripping himself off his pants and briefs to free his raging erection and crawling up on top of you after chucking his shades off. A gasp leaves puffy lips when his pink glans meet the folds of your vagina, burrowing between your labia to coat with your slick.

“Satoru, wait,” you voice. “D-Don’t you have a condom?”

“Sorry, ran out of them.” Lies. Gojo knows he has rubbers tucked in his nightstand. However, the intention to use them is nowhere to be found. Because tonight – knowing completely and damn well you’re still a virgin – he had to fuck you raw. The drive to do so sent shivers up his spine. “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll promise to pull out.”

Yet again, another deception.

Gojo pushes the tip in as he counts your breaths, watching every wince and contortion of your expression as the cockhead ventures and seeks shelter inside your slit. Your body is squirming through every exhale, and Gojo’s coaxes to relax your rigidness are somewhat helpful as you intake air. Before you know it, your mouth goes to a permanent ‘o’ shape once the tip is inserted, the act of breathing stops, and your body recoils and tenses as he slowly forces the foreign limb to carve your tightness inch by inch.

Oh, fucking shit…!! Oh yeah, Gojo thanks himself for not putting on a rubber. The firm grasp of your walls around his length nearly has him lose balance, sinking into your warm wetness clenching onto him so deliciously. He bites his lip to composure, a futile attempt as he throws in a few slow thrusts, and the snug of you has him in a chokehold. Then, when he hits your cervix, you instinctively grip onto him tighter and wrap your legs around him, and Gojo almost chokes. 

“F-Fuuck, wait, wait..!” He curses, submitting to a release way too early; his hips tremble as his cock ejaculates into your vagina. Shocks rattle his brain, rolling his eyes to the ceiling at the sensation of pooling himself into you. “Shit, oh shiiiit…this fucking pussy is driving me crazy.”

It really does because Gojo, still keen from his climax, dials the cadence, rutting into you with purpose. The sudden movements have your shrieks bouncing across the bedroom walls, and hits to your womb are frequent and cause more tears to strike down without your comprehension. “Nnnmm! OhhhmyGod…! Mmoohh!!”

“Heh, look at you cryin’,” Gojo teases you from above, licking a tear before kissing your cheek and ear. “Guess that’s expected for your first time, huh…Hnnnm, God, you’re clenching my dick so much.”

“Th-That’s because you’re—“The curve of his shaft has the tip graze your walls in an angle that makes your back arch. “Ahhoooo!! I’m fuull; you’re making me fulll…!!”

“Awww, am I making you full, crybaby?” He mocks you in your ear, the snicker sounding too salacious to the drum. “You full with my dick that it got you whining and crying for me?”

I can’t do this! Your brain dissolves into mush, and your face is too hot to construct adequate consciousness. “I can feel it, I can feel…”

“What is it? I can’t hear you through all the sobbing,” Gojo unscrews your legs to maneuver one for him to straddle and the other to lie on his shoulder. The new position gave him a directed way to piston his pelvis into your aching cunt, your squeals turning into screams as pokes to your womb come with the feverish pacing. He’s hitting so deep you can’t catch up! “What, you think you’re about to cum?”

You nod hurriedly. “Yes, yesss!!”

“Oh, that’s what you want now?” The snow-headed man chortles before sneaking a hand to your vulva, where his fore and middle finger swipe on your clit. “Tell me, is that what my pathetic angel wants?” You nod again, so he pinches your bud. “Tell me properly~.”

“—Ahhnnn, ohh, Sa—‘Toruuu!!” You pan to him. “Pleaseee, please make me cum, I wanna cum…!!”

God, this was a picture worth savoring. The image of you being all desperate for release, wanting nothing but to succumb to your wanton desire. You looked so ruined, like a completely different person compared to the meek exterior Gojo used to. And it’s all because of him – his words, his touches, his lips, and his dick – that you’re like this. A fact that only propels him to hammer his hips into you harsher. 

“Good girl,” he bends down to close his face to yours. Surveying you make such erotic faces as he keeps playing with your clit is food for his soul. “Enjoy yourself, princess,” and he steals your lips once more for another kiss.

Your orgasm comes to you quicker than ever, thanks to the work of Gojo’s hips, the hits of your cervix, the pinches on your clitoris, and the sloppy makeout session. Your body freezes and lets the aftershocks jolt you to a rocky clarity, your head in a dense fog, and your vision just about blurry. Your legs quiver with heaving breaths, and Gojo keeps thrusting as you soon fall out of your euphoria. 

The cold air blankets both of you once tense muscles calm down and bring you two back to reality. Silence befriends the lack of words aside from the pants of breath, and Gojo sluggishly withdraws his cock out of your wet chasm, whistling at the sight of his load slowly protruding out of your essence.

“Hey,” your face forms into a helpless expression. “Bet you never tried anal before.”

Tonight was dedicated to conquering all of your firsts. And Gojo means that with every bone in his body!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ transparent edit made by me + dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Waiting

Chapter WC: 8,545

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none, maybe some happy tears

A/N: We are crawling towards...certain events, and I feel compelled to once again put out a PSA that canon divergence can and will happen at any time. In like a squiggly line kind of way.

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Nadiem, 20 BBY

When you wake, it's morning, and the first rays of pink light are shining through the boarded up windows. Your head is still throbbing, and the nausea is still there, but the pain has receded, and you find yourself able to breathe and sit up without much difficulty. The room is quiet, the only noises the hum of the medical equipment and the steady breathing of the men and civilians sleeping around you.

You look over at the bed beside yours, expecting to see the child. But instead, there's only an empty space. The sheets are rumpled, and there's a hint of blood, but the child himself is nowhere to be found. Your chest tightens, a stab of panic lancing through you, and you start to scramble out of bed, only to stop, a hand pressed to your temple as the room spins.

"Where—"

"He's with the others," Wise interrupts.

You look up to find him sitting at a nearby desk, his feet propped up and a datapad in his hand. He's wearing a pair of glasses, his brow furrowed as he scans the screen, and he doesn't bother looking up as he continues speaking.

"He woke up about an hour ago. Did a couple scans, and everything came back fine. I wanted him to stay here for a while, but he was having none of it," he explains, his eyes flitting to you and his mouth twisting into a wry smile. "I tried to tell him that there's a war going on, and that he can't just wander around a bombed out city, but he wasn't having it."

"And what, you let him?" you ask, incredulous.

"I don't think anyone has ever accused me of being a pushover before, sir," Wise replies, his tone dry. "He's fine. Snap and his little fan club are with him. He's probably showing them how to hotwire a speeder bike."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I guess I'm not surprised," you mumble. You rub your face, wincing at the ache in your jaw, and Wise hums, his eyes returning to the screen.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his tone casual.

"Like shit," you admit, and his lips quirk up slightly. "My head hurts, and I feel like I got trampled by a herd of bantha."

"Sounds about right," he shrugs. He finally looks up at you, his eyebrow arching over the rim of his glasses, and his lips press into a thin line. "You should really eat something."

You hesitate, a sudden queasiness rising in your stomach, and the idea of eating anything is repulsive. But you know that Wise is right. It's been a long time since you've had a proper meal, and the exertion from earlier certainly hasn't helped matters.

"I will," you say.

He hums again, a knowing look on his face, and he pushes the glasses onto his head, setting the datapad aside. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and his eyes narrow.

"Look," Wise starts. He pauses, his gaze drifting over to the bed where the boy was sleeping. He seems to be searching for the words, his eyes flitting to the ceiling and the floor and anywhere but you. "What happened last night was...I can't even describe it."

"I know," you say quietly.

"You saved his life," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We both did."

"No," he counters. His hands clasp in front of him, and his brow furrows. "It was you. All you."

"Well, the bacta helped, too," you offer, and he rolls his eyes.

"Don't do that," he says, and there's a sharp edge to his tone. "Don't act like it was nothing. Don't make light of it."

You open your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back. He's right, of course. And, if you're honest with yourself, a small part of you is proud. Proud that you were able to use the Force to heal someone. That you were able to do something good, something useful, for once.

And, more importantly, that it worked. Not just that the kid survived, but that you finally managed to do what you had never been able to do before. What Yaddle had tried to teach you and failed.

It's a victory.

A small victory, perhaps, but a victory nonetheless.

"Sorry," you mumble. Wise lets out a soft snort, and he shakes his head.

"I'm serious," he continues. "That was...that was something else. And I don't mean to be insubordinate or anything, but you scared the hell out of me."

"I know," you repeat.

"No," he argues, and his voice rises, his frustration seeping through. "I don't think you do."

Wise stops, his jaw clenching, and his fingers drum against his thigh. He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut, and his head dips, his gaze returning to his clasped hands.

"You're amazing," he tells you, his eyes flicking up. "And you're terrifying."

"That's what I hear," you joke, and he sighs.

"No," he says again. "No jokes. Not now. I'm serious."

"Wise," you begin, and he cuts you off.

"Let me finish," he interrupts, his voice stern. "Just listen, okay? Because I need to say this."

You nod, your lips pressing into a thin line. He takes another breath, his eyes closing again, and his shoulders slump.

"I've seen a lot of shit. Too much, really. But, this...I've never seen anything like this. What you did...what you did was nothing short of miraculous. It was fucking impossible."

You open your mouth to protest, but Wise holds a hand up, silencing you.

"Don't. I don't need a speech. Or a pep talk. Or whatever bullshit the Jedi like to spout."

His eyes open, and they're filled with an emotion that you can't quite place.

"I've spent my entire life watching my brothers die, and I've learned to accept it. I've made my peace with the fact that there's not much I can do, except try to make them comfortable and help them pass on peacefully," he says. "And you just...you just walked into that and changed everything. You did the impossible, and you saved a life. You gave a kid a chance. And it's..."

Wise trails off, his gaze shifting, and a sad, crooked smile appears.

 "I just want you to know that...that I do trust you. And that I believe in you. Even if I can't say the same about the rest of your kind," he finishes.

The silence settles between the two of you, and you can't help but stare. Wise has always been a man of little words, and this is probably the most you've ever heard him speak. It's an unexpected declaration, and it's hard not to feel moved by it. Especially coming from a man like him. A man who's seen so much, who's witnessed the worst the galaxy has to offer, who's watched his brothers die and had to move on.

You've always known that he cares about you, in his own way. But this is something else. This is trust. This is a level of respect and faith that you've never been given before. Not from the Republic, not from the Jedi Council, and certainly not from the Senate. And it's an honor to be on the receiving end of such an unshakable belief.

But at the same time, the burden of responsibility weighs heavily, and you know that you don't deserve it. That, even if you can't say it aloud, the truth is, he shouldn't trust you. Not after everything that has come to pass, and is still to come.

"I appreciate the sentiment," you finally manage, and the ghost of a smile flickers across his face. "But I'm not sure if I'm worthy of such praise."

Wise laughs, and the harshness in his eyes is gone.

"Well, that's just the problem with you Jedi types, isn't it?" he says, his voice light and teasing. "You're all so humble and self-sacrificing. It's almost painful."

"Don't forget wise and mysterious," you add, and he snorts.

"I'd hardly call you mysterious, General," he retorts. "As for the wise part, well, I'll reserve judgement on that until I see some evidence."

"I suppose you would be the expert on that," you counter, and he grins.

"You're damn right I am."

Seemingly satisfied, Wise turns away, moving through the rows of cots and checking on the wounded men. You watch him for a moment, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. 

The boy's survival is a miracle, and the knowledge that the Force can bring about such a thing even in dark times is a comfort. It's the kind of hope you desperately need. The kind that reminds you of what the Jedi Order stands for, and what you stand for.

It's the kind of hope that's been missing from your life for a very long time.

As your eyes fall closed again, drifting in and out of sleep, you think of the meadow and Rex. The feeling of being safe and secure, the warmth and the love. And the possibility.

You know it's dangerous to want, but you can't help yourself. You've never been able to, and it's the same now. It's foolish, and reckless, and stupid, but you can't stop the thoughts from crossing your mind.

A life with him. A simple, happy life, far away from the war and the chaos. Just the two of you, together. It's the future you want, and the thought that it might actually be possible is overwhelming.

Your eyes open as footsteps approach your cot, and the shadow of an armored figure blocks out the light.

"Congratulations, sir,” Booker announces as he looms over you. “You finally made Wise crack."

Booker's expression is neutral, his features calm and composed, but there's a gleam of worry in his eyes, and his hands are clenched into fists at his side. When you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the cot, his body tenses, and his gaze darts to Wise's back.

"Are you alright?" he asks quietly.

You nod, and the lines around his eyes deepen.

"Are you sure?" he presses, his hands hovering as if unsure what to do with them. "Wise said—"

"I'm fine," you interrupt. "It was...complicated. But I'm fine now. Promise."

Booker's shoulders relax, his face breaking into a relieved smile. His arms come up and wrap around your shoulders, and he pulls you in, squeezing tight. You laugh, patting his arm and trying to pull away, but he doesn't let go, his embrace almost crushing.

"You scared the hell out of me," he says, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

"Sorry," you reply, and he snorts.

"I don't even want to imagine what would happen to me if you died," he grumbles, and you sigh, your arms wrapping around his waist. "I'd probably end up in a medical facility. Or a psych ward."

"Oh, come on," you tease. "You'd survive without me."

Booker pulls back, his hands gripping your shoulders.

"Just...please don't do it again," he says quietly. "I know that's probably a lot to ask, considering the circumstances, but..."

"I'll try," you tell him. He sighs, releasing you, and his hand lingers on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "So, are you going to tell me how the kid is?"

"Oh, he can tell you himself," Booker replies with a laugh, and he backs away, heading for the door. "He's been waiting."

You can't help the grin that spreads across your face as Snap enters, the boy perched on his hip. His arms are wrapped around Snap's neck, his legs dangling, and his eyes are wide and bright. The bruises have faded, no bandages in sight. He's awake, alert, and full of energy, a far cry from the injured child from the night before.

"Hi, General," the boy chirps, and you smile, gesturing for Snap to approach.

"Hi," you greet with a wave. "Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Yep," he replies. He squirms until Snap sets him down, the boy immediately moving to the bed. He climbs up, and Wise is quick to react, sliding a pillow between his head and the wall.

"How are you feeling?" Wise asks as he runs a medscanner the child, checking his vitals. The boy shrugs, fiddling with his blanket.

"Good," the boy answers. His eyes widen, and his gaze darts to you. "Oh! Thank you for saving me."

"Of course," you reply. You gesture to the medscanner, raising an eyebrow. "What does the scan say?"

"Nothing to be worried about," Wise says, turning the scanner so you can see the screen. "All vitals are within normal range, and there's no sign of injury or trauma."

"That's great," you murmur, relieved. "I'm glad to hear it."

The boy smiles, his eyes shining with excitement. He wriggles his way closer to you and reaches into the pocket of his borrowed trousers, sitting up on his knees to face you.

"This is for you," he declares proudly.

In his hand is a small flower, yellow petals curled at the edges and a green stem, the color a duller shade of what it once was. It's a little crushed, a few petals missing, but it's beautiful nonetheless.

"Wow," you gasp. "Thank you."

The boy beams, and he places the flower in your hand, his fingers lingering. You turn the flower in your palm, marveling at its beauty before tucking it behind your ear.

"There," you say. "What do you think?"

"It's pretty," he declares.

"Yeah, it is," you agree, and the boy giggles.

You can't help the smile that forms on your face, the sight of his happiness a joy in itself. After everything he's been through, everything he's endured, the fact that he's able to be so positive, so carefree, is inspiring.

It's the kind of innocence that's rare, the kind that's lost all too quickly in the galaxy, and it's precious. A reminder of the beauty and the wonder of life, of what the Force is truly meant for. Not for death and destruction, not for violence and chaos, but for light and love and hope. For creation and new life, and for the future.

You look up, finding Snap watching you, and he gives you a knowing smile. The expression on his face is familiar, and you realize with a start that it's pride. A warmth settles in your chest, and your throat constricts.

You've always believed in the good in the galaxy, in the strength and resilience of its people, but the past decade has worn away at that hope, and you've found yourself struggling to maintain it. Seeing the boy's resilience, the way he's overcome his trauma and is now able to smile and laugh and give others joy, is a testament to that strength.

It's a testament to the goodness and the compassion that exists in the universe, and it's a reminder that, even in the midst of darkness, there is light.

You swallow thickly, blinking a couple times and looking away, trying to gather yourself.

"Come on, kid. Let's go get some breakfast," Snap says. "I think there's still some of those sweet rolls left."

The boy perks up, his eyes widening, and he scrambles down from the bed. He reaches up, grabbing Wise's hand, and tugs, trying to pull him towards the door.

"Come on, come on."

Wise rolls his eyes, but he doesn't fight the pull. He allows himself to be led away, and the boy skips out of the room, his hand still holding onto Wise's. Snap follows, giving you a final nod before disappearing from sight.

Booker waits until the two of them are gone before turning to face you, letting out a sigh.

"The Council wants to speak to you," he informs you, his voice low. "I tried to hold them off as long as I could, but apparently they're eager to hear your report."

"Wonderful," you mutter. 

You can't imagine why the Council would want an immediate debrief. Usually they're happy enough to read your reports. Or not read them. You've learned to accept that most of the Council rarely pays any attention to anything you say or do. Unless they think you're doing something wrong. Which you frequently are. 

In this case, though, you've done nothing out of the ordinary, at least as far as they're concerned. It doesn't make any sense.

Then again, it's the Council.

They could be having a meeting to discuss the weather, and it would still feel important.

"Any idea what this is about?" you ask, and Booker shakes his head.

"They didn't say," he answers. "But I'm gonna guess it's not about that vacation to Zeltron I've been asking about."

You snort, rubbing your temples. Your head is still pounding, and you can feel the fatigue weighing on you, but you're not going to get a break. Not anytime soon. You glance at the door, debating whether or not you should just run, and Booker chuckles, seemingly reading your mind.

"They're not going to like that," he warns.

"What else is new," you grumble. You sigh, pushing yourself upright and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "Alright. I guess we should get this over with.”

"Don't worry," he starts, offering you a hand. You accept it, and he helps pull you to your feet, placing a steadying hand on your arm. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll handle it with your usual grace and charm."

"I'll do my best," you mumble, and Booker chuckles. His grip tightens as the world tilts, and he takes a step closer, his free hand moving to your back.

"Easy there," he says. He pauses, his expression sobering. "You sure you're up for this?"

"No choice," you answer, and his brow furrows.

"There's always a choice."

"Yeah, well, I made mine about thirty years ago," you mutter. You shake your head, trying to dispel the dizziness. It's slow to abate, and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Do you want me to get Wise?"

"Please don't," you groan. You know he would come, but you also know he'd give you an earful. And more than likely try to force feed you some of the vile liquid he insists on calling soup. "I've had enough lectures from him for now."

"That bad, huh?"

You breathe through the pain, and after a while, the sensation subsides. You open your eyes, and the room comes back into focus.

"Worse," you say. You straighten, pulling away from him, and give him a weak smile. "Thanks."

"No problem," he replies, and you step away, taking a moment to center yourself. The headache is still there, and your limbs feel heavy, but it could be worse. "Dash has some caf waiting for you at the command tent."

"Great, thanks," you murmur. You're about to ask if you have time for a shower, but Booker's commlink beeps.

"Commander, the Council is waiting," Dash's voice says, and you sigh. Of course they are.

"Copy that," Booker answers, and he gives you an apologetic smile. "Looks like they're not in the mood for excuses."

"Of course not," you grumble. You roll your eyes and start to head towards the door, but Booker stops you, his hand resting on your arm.

"You don't have to do this," he says. "We can just pretend the connection was bad, and—"

"No, it's fine," you cut him off. "I'll deal with them. I always do."

"You're a brave woman," he jokes, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"No, I'm just used to it," you correct. You reach up and touch the flower in your hair, the memory of the boy's smile warming your heart. "There are worse things."

"I'll take your word for it," he mutters, and the two of you leave the medbay, heading towards the command station. The streets are quiet, the morning still too young for much activity, and you use the time to compose yourself. It's a peaceful silence, the first rays of dawn lighting the sky, and you can't help but enjoy the stillness.

But, like all things, it doesn't last long.

The Council is already connected when you enter, and you're greeted by the holographic forms of Master Mace, Master Mundi, Master Plo, and Obi-Wan. You bow, greeting each member in turn, and they acknowledge you with a nod.

Master Mace is as stern as ever, his expression blank and his gaze assessing. Master Plo's mouth is hidden behind his mask, but the creases around his eyes betray his concern. Master Mundi is stoic, as usual, but you can tell he's not happy. Out of the four of them, Obi-Wan's expression is the most telling. He's trying to hide it, but the worry is written all over his face, and his hands are clasped together tightly, his fingers entwined.

You give him a smile, trying to reassure him, but it only seems to make him more uneasy. You're sure you look a mess, with a fresh bacta patch on your forehead and bloodshot eyes. You can feel the dried blood on your nose, and your hair is sticking up at odd angles, but it's the least of your worries.

"General," Mace says. His tone is flat, and you can't help but notice the tightness of his expression. Something's wrong. "It's good to see you’re alive and well."

"Thank you, Master," you reply, bowing your head respectfully. "It's good to be seen."

Obi-Wan's frown cracks, and a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. Booker looks away and disguises a laugh as a cough. Mace gives the two of you a hard stare, and you resist the urge to smirk. It's a bad habit, but sometimes it's impossible to resist. Especially around Obi-Wan.

Mace's eyes narrow, and he gives you a pointed look.

"You should have checked in earlier," he chides. "Your mission report was due twelve hours ago."

"My apologies, Masters," you answer. "The situation here was...complicated."

"So we've heard," Plo interjects, his tone grave. "We'd like to hear your account."

"Of course," you respond. You step forward, clasping your hands behind your back, and the weight of the four pairs of eyes resting on you is almost stifling. You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to organize your memories of the battle. 

Dash steps into the tent, a mug of caf in hand. He's not wearing his helmet, and he gives you a quick salute, placing the mug on the table. The two of you share a look, the brief eye contact conveying all that needs to be said.

You've got this.

Dash offers you a small, reassuring smile and exits the tent. You watch him go, and you find yourself feeling oddly emboldened. Whatever the Council wants, whatever they're going to say, you can handle it.

"Would you like me to rehash what Luminara has already told you?" you ask, and the Councilors exchange a glance. "Or would you like me to skip ahead to the part where the droid forces employed droids armed with cortosis?"

"We have read her report," Mace says, his tone clipped.

"But we'd like to hear it from your perspective," Plo adds, his gaze softening. "Please."

"Very well," you agree.

You spend the next hour relaying the details of the battle, describing the initial landing and the subsequent deployment. You talk about the engagement, the tactics, and the losses, and you're careful to note any mistakes and shortcomings. There are plenty to choose from, and you can't help but cringe as you recount them.

You're no fool. You know that the Council doesn't need a detailed recitation. They've already read the reports, and the intel from the battle, and the aftermath. You're not telling them anything they don't already know. But the way they watch you, as if they're waiting for you to slip up, or miss something, or fail to meet some unspoken standard, it's unnerving. And, as always, it's exhausting.

"It was an impressive victory," Obi-Wan offers. "Despite the unexpected complications."

"Thank you," you murmur, giving him a slight smile. You can't bring yourself to look at Mace. "But we could have done better. I could have done better."

"It was a difficult battle," Master Plo points out, and you shake your head.

"It doesn't matter," you counter. "In the end, the Republic suffered great losses. And the civilians here suffered most of all. Their lives were disrupted, and their homes were destroyed. There were thousands of casualties, and many more wounded."

The Council members fall silent, and you can't help but glance at Mace, who meets your gaze with a cool, indifferent expression.

"The Separatists are not the only ones who have failed here," you continue. "We have, too. And the people of Nadiem will have to live with the consequences."

You look at the holograms of the Councilors, their images flickering in and out. They're staring at you, their faces impassive, and you can't tell what they're thinking. Not that you ever can, really, but it's even more frustrating now, and the anger begins to build, a low simmering heat.

"Your compassion does you credit, General," Master Mundi says, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. He may as well have called you naïve. Or stupid. "But the war effort must take precedence."

You open your mouth to protest, but Obi-Wan steps in, his voice calm and reassuring.

"With all due respect, Master, I believe the General's point is valid," he interjects. He's addressing Mundi, but his eyes are fixed on you, his expression gentle. "These are people's lives we are discussing, and their safety and security are our responsibility. The fact that the Separatists attacked here is troubling, and we must consider why."

"I agree," Mace cuts in. He gives Obi-Wan a pointed look. "But there is another matter we must discuss."

You look at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He's clearly holding something back, and your mind races, trying to figure out what it could be. There's an odd energy in the air, a strange sense of anticipation, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

You'd managed to keep yourself contained throughout the battle, pushing aside your emotions and focusing on the task at hand. You'd managed to ignore the anger and the frustration and the fear. But now, in the silence of the tent, surrounded by the familiar faces of the Council, the walls you'd erected begin to crumble.

They can't possibly know. There's no way they could. You'd been careful. Extremely careful. You'd kept everything under control. Obi-Wan had agreed to keep your vision to himself, and as tentative as your bond was, you trusted him to keep his word. He would not betray you again, of that you were certain.

The Council wasn't wholly unaware of your fragile mental state, either. The events of the last several months had made that abundantly, and unfortunately, apparent. It wasn't something you were proud of, but it was a truth that couldn't be ignored. But there was an unspoken agreement that as long as you continued to function, continue to fight, and continue to do your job, it wouldn't become a problem.

It was a fragile balance, and a thin line to walk, but you'd managed to do it so far. So why should they worry about you now?

As Mace's eyes bore into yours, his mouth pressed into a thin line, you suddenly wonder if that assumption had been incorrect. If the Council knew more than they let on. If the Force had shown them what it had shown you. Your fall.

Finally, Mace sighs, his hands folding in front of him.

"We have a task for you, General.”

You blink, taken aback. The relief is immediate, and you breathe a silent sigh. They didn't know about the vision. They had no idea. It was just another mission.

"A task?"

"General Skywalker and the 501st have been deployed to Duro. We would like you to join him," Mace informs you, and you blink, taken aback. It's not what you expected, and the Council seems to be just as surprised. Master Mundi, in particular, doesn't seem pleased by the idea.

"Me?" you question. "Why me? Shouldn't Obi-Wan accompany him?"

"Obi-Wan has other responsibilities," Mace replies, his voice flat. “And your brigade is the closest, both in terms of location and skill set. General Krell's brigade has recently suffered a devastating loss, and they are in no condition to provide the assistance required. You are the best suited for the task."

You open your mouth to argue, to protest, but the words die on your tongue. You're tired. And injured. And, honestly, a little confused. And frankly, you want nothing more than to finish the conversation, get some breakfast, and take a nap. But despite all of that, there's a hopeful flutter in your stomach, a spark of excitement that you can't deny.

You haven't seen Rex in months. If the Force was going to be kind and finally grant you this wish, well, who were you to argue?

Obi-Wan's eyes narrow, his brow furrowing as he studies you, and a small, knowing smile crosses his lips. You wrinkle your nose at him, and he gives you a wink.

You can't help but smirk, and you're about to make a retort, something about how he has no business being smug, but Mace clears his throat, and you turn your attention back to him. His eyes are boring into yours, his face still neutral, and his voice is sharp.

"Do you accept?"

You're not sure if there's a right answer. You're not sure if there's an acceptable answer.

It doesn't really matter.

"I accept," you say, and the words seem to echo in the room. “But may I ask, what exactly is the purpose of this mission?“

"The Separatists have established a foothold on Duro's flotilla of orbiting cities," Master Plo answers, his tone grave. "The Republic has managed to maintain control of the planet itself, but we have reason to suspect Grievous is planning to invade the surface and secure their resources in order to force the Chancellor's hand."

"What would be the point?" Booker asks. He's leaning against the desk, his arms crossed, and his expression is thoughtful. "Grievous knows that the planet is of little strategic value. So what’s his play?"

"The Duros' loyalty to the Republic is shaky at best," you answer, and Mace nods. "If they were to see the Chancellor unable to protect them, they could very well side with the Separatists."

"So this is about politics, not resources," Booker murmurs, and you nod.

"It seems so."

"You and the 419th are to join Skywalker's forces at these coordinates," Mace tells you. He leans forward and taps a button, sending a set of numbers to your datapad. You open the file and study the data, committing it to memory.

"The 501st is already en route," Obi-Wan adds. "They'll set up a perimeter around the planetary shield generators and begin preparations for the inevitable attack."

"How long will we have before that happens?" you ask.

"Hard to say," he admits. "But Grievous' forces were spotted in the system a little over a week ago, and it's only a matter of time before he gets his claws into something. The Chancellor is anxious to put a stop to this, and I don't blame him."

"Understood," you say, nodding. At your side, Booker shifts, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"This place is still a mess. We can't just leave these people," he argues, and you give him a look.

"I'm aware," you hiss back. "But we're going."

"They're already in rough shape as it is. If we're not here, the Separatists could—"

"I said, I'm aware," you repeat, elbowing him in the ribs. He winces, rubbing his side, and shoots you an annoyed look. "I'm getting to that."

You turn back to the holograms and square your shoulders, giving the Council your most confident, charming smile.

"If I may, Masters," you start, and they wait, watching you with wary curiosity, "the 419th would like to extend our assistance here on Nadiem. While the city has been liberated, there are still many civilians in need of food, shelter, and medical attention. The local hospitals are overwhelmed, and the remaining infrastructure is not capable of providing the aid they need."

"And you would like us to send additional medical teams," Master Plo finishes, and you nod.

"Yes, Masters. And engineers. And perhaps even some troops, in case the Separatists return," you explain. You look at each of the Council members, searching their faces for any sign of approval, but you find nothing. Just the same, indifferent expressions. "Please. These people have been through so much, and all they have left is our compassion. To deny them that would be a cruelty beyond measure."

The Council is silent, each member considering your proposal with the impassivity you’ve come to expect from them. You can't read their expressions, can't tell if they're agreeing or disagreeing, and it's a struggle to keep the frustration at bay. It's always like this, always a fight, and it never gets easier. But you won't give up. You can't.

The holograms flicker and shimmer, and the weight of their decision hangs heavy in the air. You resist the urge to fidget, your fingers tapping against your leg, and Booker shifts, his foot kicking the edge of the table. His eyes meet yours, and you share a look, a silent conversation passing between the two of you.

It's a lot to ask. Especially given the current state of the war and the Chancellor's demands for speed and efficiency.

The Jedi Code preaches compassion, but it's rarely an easy thing to adhere to. There are always conflicts, always compromises, and it's rarely the most effective solution. You're asking them to risk more lives, more resources, and more time. For a planet of farmers and tradesmen. It's a difficult sell, and you can't help but brace for the inevitable rejection.

But, surprisingly, it doesn't come.

Mace's eyes close, and he inhales slowly, his shoulders rising and falling. When his eyes open, his gaze meets yours, and there's a hint of approval, a flash of pride.

"Very well, General," he agrees. "We will see what we can do."

Your chest swells, and you can't help but smile.

"Thank you, Masters," you say, and Obi-Wan laughs, a short, quiet chuckle. You shoot him a glare, and his smile widens, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I assure you, you will not regret it."

"See that we don't," Master Mundi grumbles, and his hologram disappears. Master Plo follows suit, leaving only Obi-Wan and Mace.

Obi-Wan steps closer, his hands folded behind his back, and his face breaks into a bright, joyful grin.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but...I've missed that," he confesses, and you can't help but return his smile. He shakes his head, chuckling softly, and you roll your eyes, trying to keep from laughing. "You were very impressive, my dear."

"Well, someone had to speak up," you reply, and he chuckles.

"Indeed. And thank you for that," he says, and you can tell from his tone and his expression that he means it. He glances over at Mace, who shakes his head, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "We can't forget where our true priorities lie."

"No, we can't," Mace agrees. "Even if the Chancellor seems to."

There's a note of bitterness in his voice that makes your eyebrows raise. It's a rare occurrence, but it's not entirely surprising. Chancellor Palpatine has been pushing the war effort, his demands and requests for more soldiers and more weapons becoming increasingly aggressive and impossible to ignore. The Jedi Council has not taken kindly to his actions, and the conflict between the Order and the Senate has only increased over the last several months. But no one can deny that it’s needed. The war is only escalating, as is the Jedi’s role in it, and the casualties are mounting. The entire galaxy is at risk, and something has to be done. Even if the Council doesn't agree.

The two men exchange a knowing glance, and Obi-Wan sighs, shaking his head.

"We will see to it," Obi-Wan promises, and the hologram cuts out.

You're left alone with Mace, and the silence settles, the only noise the muffled voices outside and the distant roar of ships taking off. You can feel his eyes on you, and you brace yourself for the inevitable lecture, your hands fisting behind your back. It's always the same. A mixture of concern and disappointment, wrapped in stern, unyielding authority. But it's not like you've never heard it before.

"You are doing good work here," he finally says, and your eyes snap up, surprised.

"Thank you, Master," you murmur. You pause, hesitating, before adding, "I do my best."

"I know.”

Mace's gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his dark eyes. The two of you stand there, watching each other, and the moment stretches, the air heavy with things unsaid. But you can't find the words. You've never been able to, really, and this isn't the first time.

You’re about to end the transmission, your hand hovering over the console, but his voice stops you. He says your name, and the familiarity is startling, catching you off guard. His tone is low, almost gentle, and there's an emotion in his eyes you can't quite identify.

It's a calculating expression, a weighing and measuring, but not unfriendly or unkind. There's something about it that reminds you of the look Master Yaddle used to give you, a mixture of fondness and worry, and it takes everything in you not to break under the pressure of his gaze.

"This is a difficult time," he starts, his tone carefully neutral. "It takes a strong, steady hand, and a steady heart, to see the way forward."

You bite back a sigh. A lecture, then. You should have known better.

"The war has tested all of us," Mace continues. "But some more than others. And, at times, even the strongest among us can lose their way."

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. You're not sure if he knows. You're not sure how he would know. But the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes are searching your face, it's as if he does.

And yet, the words you're waiting for don't come.

"You have shown remarkable courage and strength," he says. "And while your actions do not go unnoticed, and certainly not without criticism, the fact remains that you are doing important work. Important, necessary work. And I am...grateful, for your efforts."

Your breath catches, and you blink, shocked. You can't remember the last time Mace has ever praised you. Or even spoken to you without a hint of judgment or exasperation. But there's a softness in his expression, a gentleness, and you're not sure how to process it.

You stare at him, not quite believing what you're hearing, and the corner of his mouth twitches, almost smiling. After a long moment, you snort and shake your head.

"Careful, Master," you tease, "that sounded almost like a compliment."

He lets out a chuckle, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"I assure you, it is," he assures you. "In truth, I had my doubts about this mission. About you. But you've proven me wrong."

"Again," you mutter, and his smile widens.

"Yes, again," he concedes. "As you are so fond of reminding me."

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. The expression is rare, and a little bittersweet, but the warmth and the pride radiating off of him is unmistakable. It's a feeling you've missed, a sensation you've yearned for, and the realization that Mace, of all people, would be the source of it is surprising, to say the least.

He studies your face, his gaze thoughtful, and his expression sobers.

"It's a shame things turned out the way they did," he murmurs, and you nod. You both know exactly what he means. Dooku. Yaddle. The war. Your failure. It's a long list, and it's not getting any shorter.

"It's not too late," you reply. You don't elaborate. He doesn't need to ask.

"Perhaps not," Mace concedes.

The two of you regard each other, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. You've always respected him, even though he's rarely shown you the same courtesy. But in this moment, the feeling is mutual. You're both struggling to hold the galaxy together, and neither of you can afford to lose sight of the path.

The silence stretches, and you sigh, rubbing your eyes. It's late, and the fatigue is creeping up, and Mace gives you a sympathetic look.

"Get some rest, General," he orders. "You'll need it for what's to come."

"Yes, Master. May the Force be with you," you say. Mace bows his head, returning the gesture.

"And with you," he replies, and the transmission ends.

You stand in silence for a moment, staring at the empty space where the hologram once was, before letting out a long sigh. The sigh turns into a laugh as the reality of what just happened sets in, and you lean against the table, your arms braced on the cool metal surface. Your head hangs low, your hair falling around your face, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"I'll never understand how you Jedi can switch moods so fast," Booker remarks, and you snort, lifting your head. "I feel like I've got whiplash. One second, they're interrogating you, the next they're giving you pep talks. It's exhausting."

"Welcome to my life," you retort, and he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

"I'm serious," he says, and he gives you a look, his brow furrowing. "I don't get why they're always so..."

"Contradictory?" you finish, and he nods.

"Exactly."

You shrug, leaning back and stretching your arms above your head. It's not like you haven't wondered the same thing. The Council's mood swings are a mystery, and often a source of frustration, but there's a reason behind them. You're just not sure what that reason is. At least, not in this case.

"They're just trying to do their job," you offer. "And so am I."

"By giving you the run around," he mutters. He shakes his head, scoffing, and pushes himself off the desk, turning to face you. "And still, they ask you to jump, and you keep asking how high."

"Sometimes the answer is 'further than you thought,'" you point out. "And, in this case, it was. They agreed to send reinforcements. That's a win, Commander."

Booker frowns, and his eyes search yours, looking for some sign that you're upset. You're not. Not really. Sure, you're a little annoyed, and a little confused, and a little suspicious, but that's normal. If you didn't leave a meeting with the Council feeling that way, something would be seriously wrong.

"I still think you should've said no," he argues. "We need to be here. These people need us. You can't keep going back and forth, running from planet to planet and putting out fires. It's not sustainable."

"And let the Separatists have their way? No, thank you."

"We've got other troops. Other Jedi," he insists. "Let someone else handle it."

"There's no such thing as 'someone else,'" you retort. You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Look, I get it. You're worried. But we're doing the best we can. It's just..."

"Politics," he finishes, and you nod. He runs a hand over his face, groaning. "Duro is a dump. A literal dump. It's a planet-sized trash heap with enough factories to poison the entire galaxy. The Separatists would be doing the galaxy a favor by blowing the whole place up."

You frown, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him. You know that his words are mostly born of frustration and exhaustion, but you can't help but be annoyed by the sentiment.

"Don't tell the Duros that," you reply. "They might not take kindly to it."

“They would agree with me,” he retorts, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “They’re the ones who ruined their own homeworld. Why should they expect the Republic to save theirs now? Especially since they don’t even want our help? We're already stretched thin. Why are we wasting resources on a lost cause? We should be focusing on the planets and people who actually want us."

You open your mouth to argue, but he holds up his hands, a weary look on his face. His shoulders slump, and his gaze is pleading. He doesn't want a fight. You know he doesn't. And, honestly, neither do you. You're both too tired for this.

"Alright, alright. I get it. The needs of the many, etcetera,” Booker grumbles. He folds his arms across his chest and fixes you with a look. "What's the real reason you're so eager to go?"

"Eager is a strong word," you correct, your brows pulling together.

"It's an accurate one."

You look away from him, your mouth twitching, and a warmth blooms in your chest. You haven't seen Rex in so long, and you can't deny the excitement of finally being able to spend time together. The thought of seeing him again, after all this time, it's...nice. It's a feeling that has become more and more rare, and it's a sensation you want to hold onto. Even if it's only for a little while.

You may be about to enter another active war zone together, but maybe, just maybe, the two of you will be able to spend a little time together. Alone. And talk.

About...everything.

Booker's eyes narrow, and a smirk curls his lips. He watches you for a moment, and you can't help but fidget. After a beat, his smirk turns into a wide, knowing smile.

"I knew it," he exclaims, pointing at you. "This is about Rex."

"This is not about Rex," you deny, and Booker scoffs.

"Yeah, sure it's not," he teases. He leans closer, his grin widening. "So you're telling me you've got absolutely no ulterior motives? No desire to see a certain handsome captain?"

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Booker..."

He grins, and you roll your eyes, but you're unable to stop the flutter of anticipation rising in your stomach. You've been so busy the past several months, and the only contact you've had with Rex has been over the comm. Seeing him again, being with him, it's going to be wonderful. And exciting. And terrifying.

The reality is that there's so much that needs to be said, so much left unspoken, and it's a daunting prospect. You have no idea how the conversation will go, or if you'll ever find the right time to have it. But the possibility is there, the seed planted, and it's impossible to ignore.

"Of course it's Rex," you finally admit with a huff. "Why else would I want to go? The weather? The scenery?"

"Well, you could have just said that," he replies. He gives you a playful shove, and you laugh. "You know, if you miss him so much, why don't you just tell him?"

"I have," you point out. You lean against the desk, and his expression softens, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. He crosses his arms, mirroring your pose, and the two of you share a knowing look.

"Have you ever considered that maybe you're overthinking this?" he asks, and you sigh.

"Maybe," you concede, chewing the inside of your cheek. You shake your head, trying to dispel the doubt and uncertainty that's plagued you for months. "But what if he doesn't—"

"He does," Booker cuts in. His expression is firm, and his eyes are earnest. He puts his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "He cares about you. And if he doesn't make a move soon, I'll fight him myself."

You snort, shaking your head.

"Please, don't," you beg. "That's the last thing I need."

"I'll do what I have to do," he threatens as he raises his fists, a playful glint in his eyes. "For my General."

You roll your eyes and shove him away. He chuckles, catching himself, and straightens.

"You gonna let him know you're coming, or are you just going to show up unannounced and give him a heart attack?" he asks.

You shrug, giving him a playful grin. "What, and spoil the surprise?"

Booker barks a laugh, throwing his head back. You laugh with him, and the two of you stand there for a moment, sharing a laugh and enjoying the moment. It's been so long since either of you have had anything to be happy about, and the feeling is refreshing.

"I'll tell him. But first I need to have Dash contact the fleet and arrange transport," you inform him. You push yourself off the table, turning to face him, and give him a small, encouraging smile. "And you'll have to—"

"Take over while you're gone, yeah, I know," he finishes. He crosses his arms, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry, I won't let the place fall apart while you're away."

"I'm not too sure about that," you tease. "But I do appreciate it."

"No problem," he shrugs, and he gives you a wink. "Just promise me that if you're gonna run off and elope with Rex, you'll invite me to the wedding."

"If you keep Nadiem in one piece while I'm gone, you can be my maid of honor," you shoot back, and his smile widens.

"Deal."

With a quick salute, he turns and exits the tent, leaving you alone. You breathe a sigh, leaning against the table, and stare at the open doorway, a small smile on your lips. It's a strange feeling, being excited about a mission, but there's no denying the anticipation in your chest, the fluttering of nerves.

You've missed Rex. And not just his company, but him. His voice, his laugh, the way he smiles. The way his hand feels in yours. The way his arms wrap around you, the warmth of his embrace.

It's been too long since you've seen him, and the distance between the two of you has been a source of pain. It's an ache that you can't quite soothe, and it's hard not to wish for more. To imagine a world where you don't have to fight, where you can be together. A world where the two of you can live in peace.

Your brief glimpse into a possible future, a vision of a life together, had only made the longing stronger, the desire sharper. A future together, a life together, it's not something either of you can have, but you can't stop yourself from hoping. From wishing.

And in the meantime, there's only the war. And the battles. And the fighting. And the waiting.

You've become well acquainted with the waiting.

But now, at least, you'll have him.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your comm, opening your last conversation with Rex and starting to type, a smile on your face.

You’re not going to believe this…

taglist: @baddest-batchers @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831

[buddiewho]

Hey! PSA! People struggling with REPRESSION, have a shit ton of masks!! The beard, step one. However, that does not mean all of what is REPRESSED was set free. Some weight off the chest, because you confessed. Then that same priest ran into you at a juice bar and told you to find a moment of joy. Do something freeing. You did that, in your underwear. Yet there was still something (looking at picture of son). Maybe that is what will also bring joy. Then the news drops. The most important and the hardest one to break the news to. At first, everything seems good, but you too put on a mask and run with it. He is reacting with a positive attitude. Let the mountain of emotions, press into my shoulders some more and you will keep on smiling because you have to rent this house. Freddie Fakeman. Okay, when you say it out loud. Don't cry, don't cry. Don't cry. Hey, what do you think about taking out this wall? Move it, Buckley… don't cry. We made it through the dinner you really did paid for…it was now time for the ACTUAL move. Shit. Your sister is what? You will be right over. Oh, Chim… You are too tired, but yes Buck everything is crashing down, this is a shitty circumstance; all these words in your head and nothing falling out of your mouth, because why voice anything. Buck is saying enough. This is shitty. Whoa! Whoa! hey, it's not nothing.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Maddie is found and recovering. Chim is by her side, and Buck well…he found Christopher's shirt and is carrying boxes to the uhaul with you. This thing between us is messy and hard. Don't cry. But I want you to know that you do matter to me. I know. Don't cry. Half smile. Slide the back shut (totally not in showing off my ass way; wait what?) Anyway, don't cry. Of course, he baked fucking cookies. Don't cry. Smile, paint it on, hold it back. Thanks for helping me get back to him. This is for your son. Yet it's not nothing. Don't cry. Scrunch the eyebrows, paint on the smile. You will talk to him again. This does not feel like goodbye for good, right? Do you dare look back? He said something absurd, so yes, you should. One last smile (aside from future smiles via face time), but you feel that in this moment it is a genuine one; not that contorted smile that is trying to choke down true feelings. One you can tell is not a mask, but a smile you can usually only make happen with Buck.

Oh, man I'm going to miss you.

[If one more person says that Eddie did not "feel" anything!! Also, also, I think the evidence is right there in that one BOLD sentence!]

[honeipie]

ANY OTHER WAY

izuku midoryia x reader

synopsis: your son demands answers

authors note: this is the short little ending to the toast little mini series! but honestly their little family is so cute i don’t wanna leave them :((( also thank you to everyone who read, reblogged, and commented. i literally love ur life.

psa: mentions of breastfeeding

one | two | three | four

"my life is a lie!" the voice of your oldest son echoed through the hall and into the living room. you didn't bat an eye as his antics, because you knew every time he went to hang out at his uncle denki and aunt jirou's house he came home talking about some new crazy story. though he'd usually wait to talk about it until he was in the same room as you all.

izuku and yutaka, your middle child, raised their heads at the sound of the door slamming behind him.

"koji, you've barely stepped through the door and you're already yelling. mayuka was finally eating" you shifted your youngest head back towards you chest. she had been startled by the door but you were able to calm her by gently rubbing your thumb against her cheek.

"sorry" koji mumbled going to stand in the very middle of the living room so he could get a good look at you all "but i still can't believe i've been lied to for the past twelve years, twevle years!"

izuku's eyes went from his son, then over to you. but all you could do was shrug. izuku grunted as he rose from his spot on the floor. all those years of daunting hero work along with just plain aging were catching up to him. specks of grey started to show, but he attempted to hide them with the green he still had.

"okay koji. what are you freaking out about?"

"i don't know, maybe the fact that you guys almost never got married?!"

now if there was one thing you were expecting to come out of his mouth, it wasn't that.

"did denki tell you about that?" you asked watching as he was now pacing the room back and forth.

"yeah! and i'm glad he told me because it seems like you guys were never going to let me know!"

yutaka looked up from his tablet “mommy and daddy weren’t gonna get married? why?”

izuku put his hands up before koji could go off again “listen, your aunt ochako and i weren’t very good at relationships back then and-“

“what does aunt ochako have to do with this?” koji’s face went from confusion to surprise “you were going to marry aunt ochako! what the heck!”

the tips of izuku’s ears went pink as he heard his surprise “i thought denki told you everything!”

“he only told me that you guys almost never got married! when i asked for more details he said that’s none of his business”

you snorted going to fix your bra since mayuka had finished eating “since when does denki mind his buisness”

“that’s what i said!” koji threw his arms up going to sit in between the two of you “okay so you guys gotta tell me everything! start to finish”

“i don’t know koji. i mean i need mom to tell the story with me and she’s kind of busy so-“

“i got time” you laid mayuka on one side of your body making sure her head was over your shoulder “may takes her time to burp” izuku gave you a look which you smiled at “i love you!”

izuku rolled his eyes before finally nodding “fine we’ll tell you the story. c’mere taka” he held his arms out which his son happily jumped into. after he got him settled on his lap he started on the story of how the two of you got together. the toast, the argument, and the rekindling all in one short (kid friendly) version. of course, you felt the need to add in little details when needed “and then we got married and boom. you kids were born”

koji’s mouth had hung open for almost the whole story, sitting at the edge of his seat. yutaka looked rather confused.

“so..” taka looked over at the two of you “mommy took daddy from aunt ochako?”

“well, sort of. we all agreed that how things ended up were for the best. no matter how it happened”

izuku nodded his head in agreement “i love your mom and i love all of you” he tickled taka’s side making him burst out in laughter.

“i just can’t believe it” koji mumbled shaking his head.

“you better believe it kid. your dad and i are in love” you wiggled your eyebrows making koji groan “in fact, give me a kiss!” the two of you leaned in placing a dramatic kiss on each others lips. both of the boys pretended to gag as they got up.

“not in front of us! not in front of us!” they both made a mad dash upstairs making the two of you laugh.

“they get their dramatics from you” you said scooting closer to him handing over may. an offended look plastered his face.

“they do not!”

“whatever you say mr. midoryia” you leaned your head on his shoulder pulling the blanket over the two of you. you eyes scanned over the home that the two of you created. toys scattered across the living room floor. family portraits hanging on the walls, even from when koji was first born. some random, educational kids show was currently playing on your television. someone had told you that this would ‘stimulate the baby’s mind’ even though she had just popped out. both you and izuku in your matching pajamas that you had gotten for christmas. ever since mayuka was born the two of you had been too exhausted to clean. shit was a mess, but honestly, you felt no sense of stress. you two had a silent understanding that everything would be done in the time that is intended, and you wouldn’t have it any other way

“i love you” you moved your head to look up at the man you had fallen hopelessly in love with. he looked back with a tired smile, but you noticed the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“i love you too”

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