#AI and marching towards

[armandsfangs]

Friendly reminder that AO3 is fighting AI data scrapers on behalf of all fanfic writers!

According to the post below, AO3 issued a DMCA takedown after finding out that all works before March 2025 were scraped and uploaded as a dataset to potentially train AI. The ability to take legal action against scum like this is the direct result of people donating to AO3 so they can keep functioning and they don't pocket any of it because they are a non-profit organization.

So when you see the AO3 donation drives, please remember that this is what the money is going toward and support it when you can!

[carriesthewind]

I reread the IA's contemporaneous post justifying their "National Emergency Library", and one of the things that struck me is just how selfish it was.

(It was also full of falsehoods, ranging from exaggeration to outright lies, but that's another matter.)

While 2020 feels like it was several decades in the past, it was actually only a few years ago. And I remember March of 2020! I was there! And oh my god, is this post right in line with every other selfish, demanding asshole determined to make a global pandemic all about themselves!

First of all, there is the language of the post - it is a "tremendous and historic outage" that books are unavailable to patrons because libraries are closed for the pandemic. "Right now, today, there are 650 million books that tax-paying citizens have paid to access that are sitting on shelves in closed libraries, inaccessible to them."

Missing from this outrage is a recognition that, like. Librarians are people. They get sick, and die.

They did get sick, and died.

Libraries were closed not only to protect patrons and the public, but librarians too. Libraries were closed to protect people, human beings. Because generally speaking, even the most enthusiastic supporters of access to books and knowledge, prioritize lives over books.

The AI's post, however, reeks of an entitlement to things that *my* tax dollars paid for. Libraries and library collections aren't a public good. They're something *I* should be able to access anytime I want, damn the context or the consequences.

(Was it also a historic outrage when I had to wait several months to check out Nona the Ninth, because so many other people were checking it out?)

Second, as I said, I remember early 2020. And in spring and summer of 2020, there was more free content on the internet than before or since. So many people and so many institutions were bending over backwards to provide people with books and tv shows and music and podcasts and virtual tours and collections and just about anything that someone could figure out how to digitize. So many people were giving away books for free, or writing/recording new content to give away for free. I can't even remember how many times I heard or read someone telling their readers or listeners just to pay what they could, if they could. So many people and institutions were giving away so much, do so much, to provide access to knowledge and books and entertainment and information.

And in that moment, the IA decided to steal from people. When so many people, so many authors, were acting so selflessly, they decided that it wasn't good enough. And instead of giving away themselves, they decided to steal from authors and pat themselves on the back for "meet[ing] this unprecedented need," when they didn't even actually do anything themselves. Or maybe more accurately, the only thing they did was something irrelevant to the actual needs of the community, something they wanted to do anyway, something to try to use a pandemic as an excuse to advance their agenda.

Because third, there is zero concern for the population of patrons actually most impacted by the closure. The IA cares, to a fault, only about information being digitized.* But many people who use physical libraries, many of the people most impacted by their closure, are people who do not have access to the AI's so-called "open library." And people who could access digital books generally continued to have access to their library's e-book services, and to tons of other free content. The patrons who were actually in the most need are ignored as irrelevant.

*And I want to be clear - they care that information is digitized, not about digital access. "Access" means more than information being digitized and theoretically being able to be read.

It's so clear that IA didn't really care about the patrons of physical libraries. Instead, they saw a real problem, and instead of working toward any solutions, decided to use it as a prop to push their own agenda. (Again, while people were dying.)

It's just all so deeply selfish.

[reasonsforhope]

"The first satellite in a constellation designed specifically to locate wildfires early and precisely anywhere on the planet has now reached Earth's orbit, and it could forever change how we tackle unplanned infernos.

The FireSat constellation, which will consist of more than 50 satellites when it goes live, is the first of its kind that's purpose-built to detect and track fires. It's an initiative launched by nonprofit Earth Fire Alliance, which includes Google and Silicon Valley-based space services startup Muon Space as partners, among others.

According to Google, current satellite systems rely on low-resolution imagery and cover a particular area only once every 12 hours to spot significantly large wildfires spanning a couple of acres. FireSat, on the other hand, will be able to detect wildfires as small as 270 sq ft (25 sq m) – the size of a classroom – and deliver high-resolution visual updates every 20 minutes.

The FireSat project has only been in the works for less than a year and a half. The satellites are fitted with custom six-band multispectral infrared cameras, designed to capture imagery suitable for machine learning algorithms to accurately identify wildfires – differentiating them from misleading objects like smokestacks.

These algorithms look at an image from a particular location, and compare it with the last 1,000 times it was captured by the satellite's camera to determine if what it's seeing is indeed a wildfire. AI technology in the FireSat system also helps predict how a fire might spread; that can help firefighters make better decisions about how to control the flames safely and effectively.

This could go a long way towards preventing the immense destruction of forest habitats and urban areas, and the displacement of residents caused by wildfires each year. For reference, the deadly wildfires that raged across Los Angeles in January were estimated to have cuased more than $250 billion in damages.

Muon is currently developing three more satellites, which are set to launch next year. The entire constellation should be in orbit by 2030.

The FireSat effort isn't the only project to watch for wildfires from orbit. OroraTech launched its first wildfire-detection satellite – FOREST-1 – in 2022, followed by one more in 2023 and another earlier this year. The company tells us that another eight are due to go up toward the end of March."

-via March 18, 2025

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[chuluoyi]

✎ attraction

- gojo satoru x reader

to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

genre: high school!gojo being a menace, jealous!gojo but he doesn’t realize it? enemies to lovers, fluff, gojo begins pining on you

note: thank you anon who asks for gojo falling in love with a first year! i added some spice though haha

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Back in 2006—

There was this tiny weeny part of Gojo that was like... questioning, how did his best friend Geto Suguru catch your eye, whereas he didn’t? Like, at all?

"I want Geto."

"Hah?" Gojo arched a righteous brow, swiftly turning your way—feeling the stings of irritation gnawing at him. "What?"

You shot him a look. “I said, you suck and I’m lamenting that I’m paired with you instead of Geto for this mission.”

Once upon a time, you did hate him for obvious reasons as other people do. He was obnoxious, boastful and overall grating on your nerves.

Well, actually, “hate” would be too strong of a word, so probably “dislike greatly” it is.

“Ehh, Suguru? With you?” Gojo glanced at you, purposefully scrunching his face into a mocking sneer. “No way. Absolutely not. Incompatible. I won’t give him my blessings.”

“Who are you to grant blessings?” you hissed with a bulging vein of frustration. “And no, it's not what you think! I—” you wanted to kick yourself for stumbling over your words, “—I just respect him in a way an underclassman would!”

Gojo let out a strained laugh.

To him, you were this cute little junior who looked funny when mad. Riling you up was on his daily to-do list, and poking fun at your obvious crush on his best friend was supposed to double the fun, until it made him wonder despite himself... just what exactly did Suguru have that he apparently lacked, leading you to always follow him with your eyes, whereas you spared him with nothing but glares and sharp retorts?

You didn’t exactly hide your feelings. Whenever Geto was nearby or greeted you in the mornings, you'd blush like a tomato. It was silly, because Gojo was sure his best friend’s type wasn’t a girl as skittish as you—surely, it must be someone as vivacious as Inoue Waka.

He knew you were doomed to fail.

"I suggest you go pick up some slack," he teased. "Better if you don't become a dead weight while assisting him in missions, no?"

He knows. Really.

"...do you know that there are only three things I can't stand here?"

"And those are?"

But...

"Your stupid glasses, your Limitless—and you."

He was still irked, regardless.

"Well, poor you, then," he shrugged, shit-eating grin on his face. This time he pushed his luck. "Do you know that you're nowhere nearing Suguru's type?"

Scratch that. You hate him. You turned to him with a reddened face, and it wasn't because you were blushing.

"I'm going by myself!" you declared, seething. "I couldn't care less about what you're about to do—I'm finishing this and going home!"

With that, you you marched towards the haunted house, paying no heed to his taunts behind you.

You felt a wave of embarrassment washing over. Gojo always messed with you and normally you would chalk it up as one of his shits—but this time, you didn't appreciate how he touched on that sore spot of your not-so-hidden infatuation with Geto. So what if you weren't his ideal type? He didn't have to be mean!

But soon you regretted leaving his side, as a monstrous cursed spirit quickly chased you out.

Gojo was still outside, bidding his time. He merely huffed when he heard you screaming in fear.

He was ready with a jab. "Well, well... Look who's running back into my arms—"

But his smirk quickly fell when he saw the cursed entity was apparently way beyond your level. You ran out—no, by some idiotic impulse of survival, you actually leapt out of the two-story window and almost fell flat on your face and broke your bones, but before then, he sprung to action, catching you, wrapping one arm on your waist.

You were grateful you that you weren't doomed—until you felt yourself dangling mid air in his hold... like a cat.

"Gojo!" you wailed. "I'm going to fa—!"

Oh, but Gojo was convinced that this was his moment to shine. He directed a smirk your way as the bright blue mass in his hand totally caught your attention. With one swift flick of his hand, he muttered the mantra for Blue, and exorcised the cursed spirit in one go.

He marveled at his own show of power—and hoping that somehow, you would too. Then, he placed his hand under your knees, repositioning you in a princess-carry, and the way your gentle curves nestled snugly in his arms sparked some intriguing thoughts in him.

Your wide, crystal-clear eyes gazed at him with such wonder. Red tinted your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved into a winning smile.

It was at that exact moment when he realized it: he wants you. This funny girl who often made his day, he wanted you to look at his way too.

...but goddamnit, you like Suguru.

"Well, not that scary now with me around, isn’t it?" he boldly announced, and your amazed expression immediately turned into a cute frown.

"Thanks," you blurted, still with rosy cheeks and looked frazzled, but then you realized the state you were in his arms. "But—put me down!"

"Ehhh, I will if your feet can reach the ground!"

Who cares if you like Suguru? As he burst into snickers and you screamed at his face, Gojo Satoru decided then and there—in that spring of 2006—that he would make it his mission to win you over. To make you his.

And years later, not only he achieved that but also so much more—a ring on your finger serving as the testament to his success.

Epilogue

"Yaga-sensei," Geto sighed wearily. "Can I be paired with Shoko, please?"

"Geto-san, wait, please—" you frantically tried to explain, glaring at Gojo in the process. "I'll do my best so—"

"You're such a bother, even Suguru doesn't want to go on missions with you," the white-haired clown remarked with an evil grin. "Right, Suguru?"

"No, Satoru—"

"Well, but if it's me, I'll gladly mentor and teach you though~"

"I don't want you! You're so insufferably annoying!"

"Yaga-sensei, can I please get paired with someone else—"

[mxtxdiaspora-may]

MXTX Diaspora May is back for 2025!

MXTX Diaspora May is an event in which Chinese diaspora creators come together to share the diverse aspects of Chinese culture, as well as connect with each other over lived experiences.

Through the promotion and creation of these fanworks, we hope to encourage thoughtful self-reflection throughout the broader fandom, especially with regard to embracing cultural humility and dismantling structures and behaviors that allow racism to flourish, both in fandom and in real life.

Support of MXTX Diaspora May will go a long way towards creating a more inclusive and open climate in our shared online spaces, especially for creators who rarely get their voices heard in the English-speaking side of fandom. We aim to uplift the unique voices and stories of our participants, and we encourage anyone who enjoys works from this event to share in the celebration of Chinese culture from creators of Chinese heritage.

Any creator with Chinese heritage may participate in MXTX Diaspora May. Event rules and work requirements may be found at the link below.

Note: We will not accept AI-generated works (works created by generative artificial intelligence models) as part of this event.

Event Rules & FAQ

Our prompts this year are the Twelve Ornaments, a group of ancient Chinese symbols and designs considered to be highly auspicious.

Sub-prompts for the event will be posted separately.

Sign-Up Form

Are you a creator of Chinese heritage who's ready to sign up for this event? Please fill out the sign-up form linked above!

You will receive a discord link to the event server after you complete the form. Please make sure to join the discord server to connect with fellow event participants and receive event announcements and updates.

Sign-ups will run from March 1, 2025 to April 5, 2025.

Signal Boost!

Reblogs and signal boosts for this event are welcome from both participants and non-participants. Please feel free to boost on bluesky as well.

Feel free to check out our collections from previous years. Comments and kudos are always appreciated by creators!

2021 (MDZS only)

2022

2023

2024

We look forward to sharing and celebrating everyone's works from the 2025 event!

[purposeastro]

A bit More about 2025

We are moving towards a very negative and bad era for humans. Animals are already getting wiped off from the face of the earth which is a warning sign for humans. It's a god's way of telling that humans are next!

Things are going to move very quickly as the Jupiter is a slow planet but is moving quickly. 2025 is a total Mars energy. On 29 March 5 planets Rahu, Venus, Sun, Moon & Neptune with Saturn will be in Pisces sign. Pisces is the last zodiac Sign and rules over the water bodies. These 6 signs are aspecting on the first house. Jupiter is acting as a Hindering planet.

June to November there is high chances of War. Many changes in workplace will be seen. Everyone will get lazy. I'm feeling lazy for quite sometime too. There'll be layoffs in office and people will work from home. A lockdown due to a pandemic can occur. Mysterious diseases will spread. AI will take over people and replace humans. There'll be increase in people's loneliness that everyone will prefer to talk with AI more than a real human.

The person who never got angry will get angry and vice versa things will happen. There'll be fire in many places. People having pro skills will rise. It's high time to develop a skill which can be beneficial for this time. Agriculture will be on rise as the demand of items will increase with less supply due to war pandemic, etc.

War and natural calamities will fall together on humans. Due to Pisces sign all the water bodies will become active. People near the coastline are in Danger ⚠️ Tornados, flood, earthquake can happen.

There'll be increase in theft all around the world. Meat Eaters who want to stay alive please become vegan otherwise even god won't save 🙏 Work of Doctors will increase. Doctors, psychologist will be on the rise. Increase in road accidents too can be seen. North Node Rahu in Aquarius will expand AI to the TOP. Cases of divorce will increase. People will struggle more mentally.

People from all over the world will start going to India. There's lot of news about people visiting India. Trade, civil war. People will become more spiritual. People will get into yoga, etc. There will be a rise in Sanatan Dharma.

Dharma : Dharma is cosmic order or law. Dharma can best be explained as conduct that upholds universal natural laws, and when humankind follows these laws, it allows them to be happy and prevent suffering. It's a combination of morality and spiritual discipline that guides one in living one's life.

[shukraastro]

Vedic Astrology - Future Spouse Prediction: The Name part 2

As I already discussed the method to predict predict the prominent sounds the Future Spouses name in my previous post (link below), now I will show some examples.

Example 1 Angelina Jolie

Her Birthdate is June 4th, 1975 at 1:05 am in Los Angeles (US)

In her D9 chart her 7th house has the sign of Aquarius, therefor her 7th lord is Saturn. Her Saturn is places in Taurus in Krittika Nakshatra.

The Hindi letters for Krittika Nakshatra are:

आ equals an A (ah) sound

ई equals an I (eeh) sound

उ equals an U (ooh) sound

ऐ equals an E (ai) sound

Her first husbands name is Johnny Lee Miller (I sound in all 3 names)

Her second husbands name is Billy Bob Thornton (I sound twice in the first name)

Her third husbands name is Brad Pitt (E sound in first name, I sound in the last name)

As you can see the sound I is very prominent in the names of her Ex-spouses. Brad Pitt even has two different sounds present in his names, not only the I sound in Pitt but also the E sound in Brad.

Additional note: Another point I wanna add is that her Ketu in her D1 chart is also in Krittika Nakshatra. And Ketu also holds an important signaficance in the Spouse analysis, because it represents our partner from a past life. I forgot to mention that in my previous post (I might add that later on there as well). But the reason why Ketu in the D1 chart can also be a strong indicator of the spouse is because it is similar to our lowest point, while Rahu is similar to our highest point, since it represents our destination where we are heading towards in this lifetime and Ketu is where we started. In this manner it is kinda similar to our Darakaraka and can also indicate traits of a spouse who comes from a past life.

Example 2 Justin Bieber

His Birthdate is March 1st, 1994 at 0:56 am in Stratford, CA

In his D9 chart he also has the sign of Aquarius in the 7th house. Again, the ruler is Saturn and it's places in Sagittarius, Uttara Ashadha Nakshatra. Let's also look at his Ketu in the D1 chart, it's in Krittika Nakshatra and let's also look at his Darakaraka planet which is the Moon and in the D9 chart his Moon is in Swati Nakshatra.

Now we got Uttara Ashadha, Krittika and Swati.

Uttara Ashadha Nakshatra Hindi letters:

भे भो जा जी

Sounds: Be (bhe) Bo (bho) Ja Ji

Krittika Nakshatra Letters (we already discussed above)

Sounds: A (ah) I (eeh) U (ooh) E (ai)

Swati Nakshatra Letters:

रू रे रो ता

Sounds: Ru (roo) Re Ro Ta

As everyone knows he's married to Hailey and Hailey's full name before getting married was Hailey (E sound) Rhode (Ro sound) Baldwin (Bo sound). The Bo sound in Baldwin is very subtle in the pronunciation. Like I already mentioned in the previous post, you need to give it some room when comparing these sounds in Hindi with the sounds in names from different foreign languages.

Example 3 Amitabh Bachchan

His Birthdate is October 11th, 1942 at 3:00 pm in Allahabad (IN)

In his D9 chart his 7th house is in the sign of Scorpio, Mars is the ruler and is placed in Cancer, Ashlesha Nakshatra.

The Hindi letters for Ashlesha Nakshatra are:

डी डू डे डो

Sounds: Di (dee) Du (doo) De Do

His wife's full name before she got married to him was Jaya Bhaduri (Du sound).

These were just some of the examples I gave. 95% of the celebrities who I've looked up their charts and applied this method was accurate. I have also applied this method on both my parents and relatives and it has always worked. I really hope I was able to demonstrate this in a comprehensive way for you guys.

Thanks for reading🌺

link to part 1:

[mrsholmesreid]

WEDDING DAY | spencer reid x reader

summary: you and spencer reid dated for a couple of years before having a daughter, lily. now that lily is three, the two of you can finally get married!

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

word count: 1,7k

content warnings: fluff

author's note: this one shot was based on a character ai bot me and iru (@ireid here and @/spookyrydel on twitter) wrote together. here's the link to it:

The guests had all settled into their seats, the soft hum of anticipation filling the air. The altar was framed by delicate flowers, the evening sun casting a golden glow over everything. Spencer stood at the aisle, his hands clasped together, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

He wasn’t nervous—not in the way people expected. He was just overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with love, with the sheer enormity of this moment. He was about to marry the love of his life, the person who had given him everything, including their little girl.

Beside him, Morgan nudged his arm, smirking. "Hey, kid," he murmured, pulling something from his pocket. "Your wife-to-be and babygirl sent you something."

Spencer blinked, confused, as Derek pulled out his phone and pressed play.

Then he heard your voice.

"Spence," you began, your voice warm and full of love. "Right now, you’re probably standing at the altar, fidgeting with your tie, maybe pushing your hair back like you do when you're overwhelmed. And I just want you to know… I love you. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. Today, I get to marry you, but you've been my home long before this day."

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his eyes already misting over.

Then a smaller, higher voice chimed in.

"Daddy!" Lily’s giggle filled the speakers. "Mommy says today is a big day! You look sooooo handsome, I just know it! I love you, Daddy! I love you lots and lots and lots—"

There was a tiny shuffle, like she was moving too close to the mic.

"I can't wait to dance with you! And eat cake!"

Derek chuckled under his breath as Spencer pressed his lips together, his vision blurring.

"So, we’ll see you soon, okay?" your voice returned, soft and full of emotion. "Take a deep breath, baby. We’re almost there."

The message ended.

Spencer exhaled, his shoulders shaking. His hands came up to wipe at his eyes, but it was useless—he was full-on sobbing.

Never in his life had he felt this much happiness, this much love.

Then the music started.

Everyone turned as the wedding march played, and when Spencer finally lifted his gaze, there you were.

Walking toward him, arm in arm with your father, your dress flowing around you like something out of a dream. And right beside you, tiny hands clutching a basket of petals, was Lily—beaming, waving at him like she hadn’t just talked to him minutes ago.

Spencer had already been crying, but now? Now he was absolutely gone.

Because this was it. His forever. His family. His everything.

As you walked down the aisle, Spencer felt like the world had slowed. The music swelled around him, but all he could hear was the pounding of his heart, the distant echo of Lily’s voice still ringing in his ears. “Daddy, I love you lots and lots and lots.”

His eyes flickered from her to you—your smile radiant, eyes shimmering with unshed tears as you looked at him like he was the only person in the world. And to him, you were. Nothing else existed at that moment. Just you and him.

His breath hitched when Lily let go of your father’s hand for a moment, running ahead on her tiny legs to reach him first. The guests chuckled softly as she stopped just short of stepping onto the altar.

“Daddy,” she whispered, her big, round eyes full of excitement and a bit of concern for her father. “You’re crying!”

Spencer let out a watery laugh, crouching down to her level despite the weight of his overwhelming emotions. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing a hand through her soft curls. “I’m just really happy.”

Lily giggled, reaching out with her small hands to pat at the tears on his face, like she could wipe them all away. “No more crying, Daddy. It’s your wedding day! But you and Mommy keep crying, you should be laughing!”

His chest ached with so much love he could hardly breathe. The guests chuckled softly at Lily's adorableness.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” he patted her head, sniffing his tears.

Then, as if she knew she had stolen enough attention, Lily spun on her heel and hurried back to your father’s side, her little basket swinging with each step. The guests let out a collective sigh of adoration, but Spencer—he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You were almost there now, just a few steps away.

He straightened, trying to blink away his tears, but it was impossible.

When you reached him, your father gently kissed your cheek before taking a step back, his own eyes a little misty.

Spencer barely had time to whisper, “You look beautiful,” before you reached out, catching his hand in yours, squeezing it.

His grip tightened, his thumb brushing against your skin like he was grounding himself in this moment, making sure it was real.

“I meant every word,” you whispered, your voice meant just for him.

Spencer swallowed, overwhelmed, his lips parting like he wanted to say something—anything—but he couldn’t. All he could do was look at you, heart in his throat, knowing that in just moments, you’d be his wife.

And for the first time in his life, everything felt perfect.

The officiant began speaking, but Spencer barely registered the words. His world had shrunk down to just you—the warmth of your hand in his, the way your eyes shimmered with love, the soft rise and fall of your breath.

Lily had settled in her seat beside Derek, swinging her legs excitedly, still beaming from her tiny moment of importance. Morgan played with her, holding her hand and telling her to pay attention. Spencer could feel her gaze on him, could hear the small giggle she let out every time he sniffled and wiped at his tears.

“This is real,” he thought. “This is my family. This is my entire life, my whole future until the day I die. Good god, I couldn't have been luckier.”

When the officiant asked you to exchange vows, Spencer let out a breath, trying to steady himself, but his hands were trembling as he pulled out the small card he had written them on, as if he needed to read it to remember the words. He had it memorized front to back; but this day was so important to him that he couldn't help but want to make sure this wouldn't be the first time his eidetic memory would fail him. But of course, it didn't. Barely glancing at the notes, his voice wavered as he spoke.

"From the moment I met you, my world changed. You have given me the kind of love I never thought I deserved, the kind that makes every day feel like coming home. Home. You taught me the meaning of that word. You make me feel things I never thought possible, a kind of safety, of love, that not even in my best dreams I could've pictured. And Lily—our Lily—she is the most precious gift we have ever created together. The way you love her, the way you love me… I can’t imagine a life without you. I don’t want to. Today, I promise to do everything in my power to always be the best husband I can be, the best father, the best partner. I promise to love you through everything, to be your safe place, always. Today, you give me the honor of vowing to spend the rest of my days trying to make you feel the way you make me feel. So that means today is not only the most important day of my life, it is also the beginning of my dream. This is what I asked for, baby. You and Lily and this beautiful family we're building together… There's nothing in the world I wished for more than this. I love you with every fiber of my being, today, tomorrow, and forever."

You reached up, brushing a tear from his cheek. “I love you,” you whispered, your tone drenched with emotion.

The officiant turned to you, and as you recited your vows, Spencer felt like his heart might actually burst. 

“Spencer, from the moment our lives intertwined—first as friends, then as partners, and now with the light of our lives that is Lily—you have filled my days with laughter, solace, and unexpected joy. I’ve watched you overcome pain and fear, and in your quiet strength, I’ve found my courage. I promise to stand beside you, to support you through every challenge, and to celebrate every tender moment we share. I may not have all the answers, but I know that with you, I’ve found home. I choose you today, tomorrow, and every day after, with all my heart. I love you and the family we're building together more than anything in the world, and the care you put in everything that you do for us overwhelms me with gratitude and pride. You’re my everything.”

The way you spoke about him, about your life together, about the family you had already built—it was overwhelming. He had never, in his entire life, felt more wanted, more cherished.

And then came the moment—the moment he had waited for.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Spencer barely heard the words before he was pulling you in, his hands cradling your face as he kissed you—soft and deep, filled with all the love he had been holding inside.

The guests erupted into cheers, but the loudest sound of all came from Lily.

“Yay! Daddy kissed Mommy!” she squealed, clapping her hands together, kicking her legs excitedly.

Laughter rippled through the crowd as Spencer pulled away just enough to laugh against your lips. “We did it,” he whispered.

You grinned. “We did it.”

Then, as if she couldn’t stand waiting any longer, Lily came running toward you both, her arms stretched high. “Mommy! Daddy!”

Spencer bent down, scooping her up in his arms, holding her between you.

And in that moment, with his wife in one arm and his daughter in the other, Spencer Reid knew he had everything he had ever dreamed of. Everything he would ever need.

author's note 2: this one shot was shorter, but i still had a lot of fun wiriting it, like i always do with iru!! let us know what you think <3

find me on other socials!

twitter: @/mrsholmesreid character ai: @/mrsholmesreid insta: @/mrsholmesreid (inactive but can be used for dms)

p.s.: i take requests, dm me!

[jayaury]

Trip to the Stars

Another older story now available for free! And plenty more on you know where: https://www.patreon.com/c/JayAury

#

“I don’t care how much those damn squids are offering! Their world is a fucking sewer, and I’ll be the one deciding where the cruise heads to. And if they don’t like it, then they can stick themselves in airlock and blow it out the void!”

Devon Logan touched his ear, killing the frequency and shifting to the next one as he swept through the dark steel admin hall of the Stellar Fete. He shrugged his shoulders, the microfibers of his suit shifting smoothly over his body like a second skin. He really disliked the thing, but the future hereditary manager of Logan Cruises had to look the part, and he did at that. Dozens of juvenative treatments, bio tinkering and nanomachines had perfected him to his role as heir to the pleasure barge’s long line of directors. He wasn’t just born for the role, but molded to it.

He swept a hand through his pale hair, blowing out a sigh as he stepped into the elevator, the door sliding shut and shooting him up into the guts of the ship, towards the sacred heart of the director’s offices. Stars but it was exhausting managing the business. Especially as they were getting closer to launch. A dozen generations had built the Stellar Fete into the sector’s premier vacation yacht. The future leaders of worlds, megacorps, and systems enjoyed its services when they needed a break from the turmoil of their work. But that meant he never got one. He groaned, cracking his neck.

He needed a drink or a stim. Maybe both.

The elevator beeped as it hit his office floor, the curving door sliding open with a hiss. “Julianne!” he said as he marched towards his office. “Hold all calls. I have some personal business to take care of.”

“Of course, sir.”

Devon was halfway into his office when that voice actually registered. Midstride he stopped, walked backwards, and stared at the woman in his secretary’s chair.

Last time he checked, it had been occupied by a slim young woman in a skin-tight bodysuit whose short hair failed to hide her large eyes and the access implants in her neck.

Now, however, it was occupied by a woman as curvy as one of the finest pleasure bimbos from the gene cutters. Her green breasts were huge, cradled in a tight band of red cloth. Another swept between her legs, hiding the treasure that lay between. A perfect hourglass of womanly curves, her hair was bright red and cascaded over her shoulders like the molten surface of a dwarf star. Her eyes were deep, dark, and her smile pretty and radiating a sweetness that made his cock tingle in the tight confines of his pants.

“Julianne?” he said skeptically. Had his secretary gone to the gene modders in the last few turns?

“Afraid not, sir,” the woman said, her voice carrying a thrumming purr that seemed to shoot straight into his animal brain and ache in his crotch. “My name is Amoora, your new secretary.”

“What happened to my old one?” he said.

“She had an unfortunate accident, sir.”

“Accident?”

“Owing the Drax such a large sum of money tends to invite them. The Stellar Fete’s system acted quickly to replace her, given how close you were coming to launch day.”

“... Uh huh. And it hired you?” Devon said.

“I was considered the best match for your current needs, director.”

Devon didn’t doubt that. How could he? The ship’s AI system had guided the last four generations of directors from cradle to the grave. If the system said that Amoora would make his best assistant, then he had to assume it knew what it was doing.

Still…

There was something about the whole situation that sat strangely with him. Some niggling suspicion. It certainly didn’t involve Amoora herself. She was exactly his type, which was possibly why the system had hired her on.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “Well, no calls.”

“Of course, sir.”

With a lingering look on her, he slipped into his office, the door sliding shut in his wake with a magnetic hum. He exhaled heavily and made his way across the large barren room, taking a seat behind the black plasteel desk that dominated the center. As soon as he sat down the system came alive, screens projecting above his desk in glowing blue blocks, the walls swirling in soft violets as it projected images of the Stellar Fete from every angle.

“System?” he said. “Did you hire Amoora?”

“Confirmed, sir,” the AI said, voice flat and even. “It was determined the most efficient course of action given current circumstances.”

Ah, of course. It would be thinking of that. Devon rubbed his chin with thought. “What sort of alien is she?”

“A mooma, sir.”

“Mooma?” He frowned. “Never heard of them.”

“They are an uncommon species, director.”

That he could believe. He’d seen hundreds of thousands of alien species over the cycles, but even those were a mere fraction of sentient aliens in the galaxy.

Yet there was something about her that made him uneasy. What that was eluded him, but he still felt it keenly. An almost animal instinct not of danger, but of something else.

He drummed his fingers on the desk. “System?”

“Director?”

“Send in… Amoora,” he said. He considered himself an appropriately wary person, and though he trusted the system to make certain decisions, he was still director, and deciding on who would be personally assisting him was certainly in his purview. And if he didn’t like what he heard, he’d just fire her. There were plenty of others who would be eager to take the job, that much he knew for sure.

“Of course, sir,” the system said.

He killed the program with a sigh and tapped one of the glowing keys in his desk, causing the screens to vanish with a blink. Within moments the door slid open once more and Amoora stepped inside.

He’d thought he’d gotten a good look at her before, but the one he was receiving now only further reinforced what a gorgeous specimen of alien beauty she was. Though her figure had a striking hourglass curve, there was a mature plumpness to her, especially in the chest and hips, further emphasising her almost primal femininity. She struck him with her loveliness, something the meager straps she wore as clothing did nothing to hide, and even seemed at pains to emphasize. Her red hair was long, framing her gorgeous face, soft and sweet with a smile that just seemed to say, ‘I’m going to make it all better.’

“Please,” he said, gesturing at the chair across from him. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, sitting delicately across from him, smiling warmly. As she did, Devon caught a whiff of her perfume. Something sweet and floral. Tantalizing and yet, strangely familiar. He took another sniff, trying to figure out what it was.

“Is something the matter, sir?” Amoora said.

“Hm? Oh, no. Nothing. Nothing at all.” He cleared his throat. “You ah-”

“Because you seemed distracted, sir.”

“Hm?”

Amoora smiled again at him. “It must be very stressful, sir, managing this whole ship. A wonderful pleasure cruise, certainly. I’ve heard it highly recommended. It’s only a shame you can’t enjoy its services as well.”

“Well, you know,” he said, both flattered and oddly uncomfortable. “It takes a lot of work to keep this ship running.”

“But you surely consider some relief, don’t you?” she asked gently.

“I have a few ways to relax.”

“Would you like to be shown another?”

“Hm?”

Amoora rose back to her feet and Devon stiffened as she moved around the desk and behind him. He knew he didn’t need to worry. The system would respond instantly if it felt like he was in danger, and no weapons were allowed on board, under threat of jettisoning into space. But he still sucked in a breath as her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

“What are you… you… Ohhhh…”

Devon groaned as her fingers began to flex and knead his shoulders, digging into him in a way that seemed to loosen every tightened, aching muscle.

“Your system did mention you get so awfully stressed, sir,” Amoora said, her voice soft and soothing while her hands did their work. “It mentioned it had been looking to hire someone skilled in that. In helping eeeease all that stress. Help your relaaaax after all your work.”

“D-did it…” Devon managed to say as Amoora’s hands did their slow, methodical work.

“Oh yes. You have such a loyal system, Devon. It makes me so happy to know how much you need me. You work so very hard. You deserve to relax a bit. To feel good. To feel better. To feel eeeeasy.”

Devon was feeling relaxed. Easy. Like a great burden were evaporating from his shoulders. He sank slowly into the chair, groaning, his head coming to rest against something soft. Something that certainly wasn’t the back of his chair. He opened his eyes and found himself tilted back, Amoora’s face hovering over his, smiling. Which meant it was her soft breasts which were currently cushioning his head.

Devon felt a slow flush rise to his face. “I-”

“I do hope you’re enjoying my work, director,” Amoora said sweetly as her hands again resumed their work on his shoulders. “And I would just like you to know that if you need anything… anything at all, I’d be delighted to care for you. Provide you with what you need. Like a massage. Like a big… soft… needy body for you to fuck…”

“You…”

“Aren’t you horny, sir?” she cooed, her lidded eyes bright as she gazed down at him. Pretty as galaxies. Swirling softly. “Would you like me to… help you relax… further?”

Devon inhaled deeply, taking in a great lungful of the alien’s pleasant perfume, the warmth of her massage oozing through him wonderfully. He was so very relaxed. And he surely did feel uncomfortable in only one way, owing to how his pants constricted his cock. “Hmm… Well, if you’re offering…”

“Of course,” Amoora said, stepping around him, her breasts wobbling as she lowered herself to her knees before him, eyes twinkling teasingly up at him. “I must obey my employer. It is only natural to ensure he is satisfied with my… service…”

She gave a wink, and her fingers undid the front of his pants. Devon groaned as his cock sprang free, throbbing with desire for the shapely green woman. Amoora’s eyes brightened even further at the sight, her smile deepening adoringly. “Oh sir,” she breathed, wrapping her hand around his root. “Such an impressive specimen.”

Devon chuckled. “How could it not be?” he said. “I’ve been designed to be… mmm… peak of human physical prowess.”

“And it shows, sir,” Amoora said, moaning softly as her tongue ran up along his underside, making him gasp and groan. “Mmmm. Such a powerful man, sir. It truly is an honour to… serve you…”

Devon was rapidly coming to the same conclusion. It really was a wonderful thing to have such a skilled pair of hands helping him out. Not even the whores on the pleasure deck could match the touch of the goddess currently kneeling between his legs.

“May I take you in my mouth, sir?” Amoora said just before her tongue made another loving lap up his cock. “I would be… ever so grateful…”

“Yeah. Sure. That sounds… sounds good,” he gasped.

“My thanks, master,” Amoora said, tilted his shaft towards her open mouth, and took him deep.

“F-fuuuuucking staaaaaars!” Devon groaned as her lips sank down. Devon knew he had a big cock. He’d been designed with one. Yet Amoora took it with ease, swallowing him to the hilt and beginning to adoringly bob.

“Fuck!” Devon gasped, grasping her head, her red hair soft beneath his hand as he pushed her down on his cock, fucking her mouth with growing urgency. “Fuck! Yes. Just like that. Fucking take my cock. Oh stars. Oh staaaaars that’s gooood!”

“Mmmmm,” Amoora moaned, the sound vibrating through his manhood as she bobbed even faster. Even harder. His cock squeezed in the warm vice of her lips, mouth and throat. Devon had long prided himself on his iron self-control, but that couldn’t save him from the suction of the mooma’s mouth.

“Fuuuuuuck!” Devon groaned, shuddering as he came, balls tightening as he unloaded great bursts of his pearly seed into Amoora’s mouth.

The mooma hummed, her eyes lidded as she gently suckled on his cock, her throat working as she swallowed every drop of his load. As Devon sank into his chair, panting, Amoora’s lips dragged off his shaft, popping free only for her tongue to tease around her plump lips lovingly, her lashes fluttering as if she were on the brink of sharing in his orgasm.

“Mmm. Thank you, sir,” she said with a smile. “Are you satisfied with my… service?”

“Huh?” Devon said, stirring from his rapture. “Oh. Yeah. Yes. I… I am…”

“Excellent. Then, I will be outside sir,” she said, rising, her plump breasts wobbling in her impossibly tight top and stirring Devon’s cock once more. “Please, do call me if you need anything else.”

Devon watched her turn, hips swinging as she strode back out the door, which closed with a hydraulic hiss behind her. Devon sighed, sinking back into his chair, amazed not only at her, but himself. He could normally fuck almost a dozen women before feeling so sated, but he wasn’t even sure he could get up from his chair after that blowjob.

But he wasn’t worried.

Oh no.

His body was designed to adapt to any and all circumstances. Before a week was out, he knew, he would be able to fuck that beautiful mooma into a puddle of moaning lust.

Yeah.

But… later.

For now, he was feeling more relaxed than he had in years and years. With a sigh he eased back into his seat, breathing in the air thick with Amoora’s perfume.

Maybe this secretary business wouldn’t be so bad after all…

#

Devon made it a point to make his way through the ship when they were preparing to begin another cruise. It did well for the crew to see him taking a personal interest in preparations. It ensured they kept in mind that the ship didn’t merely run in the void, but that there was someone at the head commanding them.

That said, he still hadn’t decided on which planet to make the destination of the next cruise. It was a bit of a conundrum for sure, but he knew he’d come across one soon enough. He always did. And the aid of his new secretary was surely making it easier.

Speaking of…

“Do you have those world maps for me yet?” he asked as they strolled through the cavernous gallery overlooking a shipboard theatre. He glanced over the rail, watching a number of drones hum around the seats, cleaning them with mechanical precision.

“Of course, sir,” Amoora said, passing him a data slate as they stepped into the tight confines of a waiting elevator.

He took the slate, rolling his shoulders as he felt the sleeves of his suit slide down his arms. Odd. It wasn’t fitting him as tightly as it used to. He’d have to get maintenance to take a look at that.

He was still looking through the files when the elevator hissed, doors sliding open and revealing that they were on the recreation deck. Devon paid little attention as he moved onto the floor, followed closely by Amoora. He was vaguely aware of the great windows that looked out onto open space, the view magnificent, even if the refueling station currently took up a fair bit of it, along with the innumerable shuttles zipping between it and open space.

“Hmm…” Devon mused, a flick of the finger paging through the brochures of hundreds of resort worlds. “No. No. Not too good. I think that one had a civil war. Pirates in that sector… Wait,” he said, stopping in the middle of the pool room, whose walls shimmered with the glowlamps under the water, reflecting a purple and blue veined with the white of waves. Devon squinted at the tropical beaches on the screen of his slate. “What’s this one?”

Amoora leaned over his shoulder, which gave him another whiff of her sweet, floral perfume. “Oh, that’s Mandina, sir.”

“Mandina?” he said. “I’ve never heard of that one. It’s not on our usual list.”

“No, sir,” Amoora said, tapping the screen, which proved distracting as her impressive, soft breasts squished against his back. “It’s a relatively unknown resort world, but very popular among moomas.”

“It is?” Devon said.

“Yes, sir. Which is likely why you’ve never heard of it. Moomas are very… private about our recreation worlds. Many slavers would delight in paying us a visit.”

Devon glanced from a pic of egg-shaped habs scattered about blooming jungles, his eyes taking in Amoora’s figure once more. “I… imagine so,” he said, then shook his head, clearing his throat. “Well,” he said, returning his attention to the screen, walking on. “It’s unusual, and we only visit worlds I’ve personally vetted, so it’s unlikely we’ll choose it.”

“Considering it is already quite generous, sir,” Amoora said.

Devon felt his skin tingle with her praise. “Yes, well… it’s very unlikely still,” he said as they passed from the pool room and into the gymnasium where a number of the resident fitness trainers were in the midst of practice.

“Good cycle, sir,” one of the fitness instructors said.

“Hello,” he said, nodding absently, then stopped and looked in surprise. For a moment he thought that Amoora had wandered past him, but no. Looking closer, he quickly made out a number of differences in the stunning green woman standing not far. As gorgeously curvy as Amoora, this mooma however had a smaller nose and was slightly shorter than his secretary.

“You are…” he began.

“A new hire, captain,” Amoora said, nodding at the other mooma. “This is Majaala.”

“New? But-”

“She comes highly recommended, sir, and will surely be a welcome addition to attend your guests.”

“I aim to please,” Majaala said, dipping in a bow, her breasts bouncing with the motion.

Devon stared at her, for a moment too shocked to formulate any words. He… he personally examined every new hire’s file before they were brought on. How had he missed that? Had he forgotten?

Who had hired her?

He suddenly looked sharply at Amoora, who smiled sweetly. A sudden suspicion rose in his mind, but he couldn’t make a scene here. It wouldn’t look good to make it seem like he wasn’t in control.

“I need to speak to you. Now,” he said.

“Of course, sir. There’s an empty room over this way.”

“Good. Great,” Devon said impatiently, following her.

She led him into an adjoining room, where massage tables sat in rows and tanning beds were propped up along the walls like missile pods waiting to fire. A soothing darkness radiated from a number of large dark lamps, in whose glow Amoora seemed almost radiant in her green skin and lush red hair.

Devon faced the mooma with a scowl as the doors sealed shut behind them “Now look-”

“Are you upset, sir?”

“Of course I’m upset! How was she hired? Who did it?”

“Why, I did, of course,” she said with a puzzled look. “Why are you mad, sir? Didn’t I do a good job?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Isn’t it?”

She suddenly took a step forward. Devon blinked, retreating in surprise, only for the back of his legs to hit a massage bench. He fell back to sit on the padded seat as Amoora moved in closer, her wobbling breasts eye level, her perfume hitting him in another waft of sweetness.

“I only wanted to serve you better, sir,” Amoora said, pouting, her soft red lips pushed out.

“You-”

“I know how very stressed you are, sir,” Amoora said, her hand coming up, brushing his cheek. Devon felt a shiver race through him, like a spark of electric delight. “I know how hard you work for this ship. How much you give to it. How much it weighs on you. I just wanted to take some of the pressure off. Was that wrong of me, sir?”

“I ah…”

“Is that not something a good assistant should do?” she asked.

Devon breathed in, gasping as her scent seemed to fill him. A floral and sweet medley that rushed into his limbs and head like a stimulant shot, making him float as if the gravity drive had broken. He tried to hold onto his anger, knowing if he let his authority slip it would be near impossible to get it back. But… well… it was hard to get mad at her. He could see how she might have thought she was helping him. And she was still so new to the job. Some errors were to be expected, he supposed.

“Well… I suppose you were trying to help,” he said slowly.

“Of course, sir,” Amoora said, her face smoothing into a happy smile. A look that made his heartbeat quicken and tension unknot in his stomach. “I’m only here to serve you. To serve such an impressive man. To help him any way I can.

“Such as finding the most capable girls to staff your ship,” she added, pushing in closer, her breasts practically in his face, her hands planting themselves on the bench beside him, trapping him with her body. “Because I know your time is far too valuable to waste vetting a bunch of silly bimbos coming to work on the Stellar Fete. Your mind is always occupied with much more… important things.”

“O-oh,” Devon breathed, eyes riveted to the perfect green orbs bound up in her top. “That ah… I mean, that’s true, of course.”

“Of course it is, sir. And you did hire me, sir. So why shouldn’t I know the specifics of what you’re looking for? It’s really a testament to your own brilliance, Devon, that I felt sure I could take that task on. All for you. My brilliant, handsome, strong director...”

She… she had a point, Devon had to admit. After all, if she felt confident assuming what his orders would be, wasn’t that just testament to how right he had been in hiring her? And the other mooma was clearly a good fit for the ship. If she was half as good at massage as Amoora, then there wasn’t any real reason to protest. Certainly, he doubted the guests would.

“Yeah,” Devon said, starting to smile as he watched Amoora’s immense breasts rise and fall. Rise and fall with her slow, heavy breathing... “Yeah. That… that’s true. Yeah,” he repeated, breathing deeply of her wonderful perfume. “Yeah…”

“You know, Devon,” Amoora said, leaning in closer, her breasts wobbling mere inches from his face, his breathing growing heavy. Shallow. “I find a man who takes charge so… deeply attractive. Moomas all do. A man who knows what he wants. Who’ll do what he needs to. Who’ll be such a… good boy…”

“Yeah…” Devon breathed. Then blinked. “W-wait. Did you say a-”

“A translation approximation, Devon,” Amoora said easily as she straddled his lap, her soft body pressing down on him, her breasts practically smothering him. “Not entirely accurate, but the mooma term is quite loaded. Much like you. Oh sir,” she groaned, her hips rocking, grinding herself on his bulge, making Devon groan. “I can feel how pent up you are. You mustn’t do that, sir. It might inhibit your decision making, being so horny. So backed up with your virile… hot… cum. We must take care of that, mustn’t we?”

Well, Devon had no objections to that! “Sure,” he said, grinning as he reached up, cupping the immense globes of her breasts, his fingers finding the catch of the strap. “Let’s… let’s do that…”

Amoora moaned as the strap clicked, fairly popping free, her immense breasts wobbling into the open, practically slapping his face with their glorious heft. He leaned in at once, lifting them up, smothering himself with her immense breasts contentedly.

“Mmmm,” Amoora moaned. “Oh sir, you do love a big pair of breasts, don’t you?”

Devon certainly wasn’t going to deny that. Especially a pair as gorgeously big and soft as Amoora’s. They fairly overflowed from his hands, soft as marshmallows. His cock throbbed in the prison of his pants, straining to be free and taste the gorgeous green alien astride him, still rubbing herself against his throbbing manhood.

“Oh Devon…” Amoora moaned as he fondled her tits. “Devon, I need you. I want you. Devon… Let me fuck you. I need you…”

“Y-yes,” Devon gasped, his head spinning and body throbbing with the surging desire racing through his veins. As he felt her hips cock, her hands slide the strap that served as her panties down. “Yes. F-fuck you. Gotta… ah…”

He felt her hands on his loose clothes, stroking him, stripping him. The fabric automatically separated around his chest, peeling off to reveal his toned abdominals. He groaned as the seam split around his pants, his cock fairly springing upwards, only to be ground under the groove of Amoora’s pussy as she rocked forward.

“Ohhhhhh!” Amoora moaned, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the hollow spaces of Devon’s body. “Oh Devon. I can feel it. Feel how horny you are. Oh sir, it must be so… so hard to think when you’re… ah… when you’re s-so haaaard. Please. Oh please, sir. Let me… let me relieve you. Let me free you… ha… of that b-burden…”

Devon had no doubt that she was referring to the burden of his arousal. What else could it be? And it was a burden. His balls ached with his need. His head throbbed and body burned with every rapid beat of his heart. He was so horny. So desperate to cum.

“A-Amoora,” he gasped from between her breasts. “I… I need…”

“I know, sweet thing,” Amoora said, arms moving around him, pulling his head deeper into the valley of her breasts. “I know. And I’m going to give you everything you need. Oh Devon… I’m ready. Ready for you. Ah,” she gasped, her body rising, lifting off his lap, allowing his cock to spring up to throbbing attention before her hips fell, sheathing him inside her pussy.

And into heaven.

“Oh f-fuuuuuuc!” Devon moaned as she planted herself atop his cock.

“Oh stars yessss!” Amoora moaned, her hips rising, falling, fucking herself greedily atop his cock, her breasts bouncing around his face, smothering him in her titflesh and the sweet, suffocating perfume she wore. “Yes. Yesss! Oh Devon. Yes! Give me your cock. Fuck me. Cum in me. Cum in Amoora! My good boy. My good… ha… horny booooy!”

She cried out, hilting atop him, quivering with moaning lust, and as she did, Devon felt the sudden tightness of orgasm within him. His cock plowing up into her hungry pussy, his hands squeezing her ample tits.

“Yes! Yes! Oh f-fucking stars yesssss!” Devon cried, the sudden euphoria of release rushing through him, his cock twitching as he unloaded into the mooma’s wonderful pussy. Bucks of his hips drained him into the gorgeous alien, riding high on his orgasm. At last, he groaned, falling back onto the bench, panting hard and fast, feeling drained, light, as if the oxygen being pumped into the room had been sharply reduced.

He stared up at Amoora as the mooma leaned over him, her lovely red lips smiling as her hand stroked his chin. “Did you enjoy that, director?” she asked sweetly.

“Y-yes,” he gasped, feeling drained, yet pleasantly so. “V-very.”

“I’m so glad, sir. I did so want to make sure you knew you could trust me with… anything. Do you, sir? Do you trust me like a good boy should?”

Those words again. He felt a shiver, but not of distaste. For some reason, being called a good boy by Amoora was oddly… good. It felt right. Well, maybe it was a touch degrading, but if it was a crude translation of a term of affection, he supposed he cold tolerate it. Especially if good boys got such affection from a mooma.

Oh yes. He shivered in delight, his cock stirring anew. Yes. He’d very much like to have more of that.

Amoora felt him stiffen and smiled. “Oh director,” she said, stretching atop him, pressing her heavy breasts into his chest, her face hovering over his. “Is my good boy still horny?”

“Maybe a… a little,” he admitted with what he hoped was a cocky grin.

Amoora giggled, her eyes warm and smile comforting as if she were wrapping him in wooly clouds. “Mmm. How wonderful. I do love a man who can keep going. But don’t worry, director,” she said, leaning in closer. “Amoora is going to make sure you’re nice… and satisfied…”

Her lips descended on his, and Devon groaned, feeling his cock thicken and harden once more, her hips beginning to rise and fall, fucking him beneath her anew.

It was starting to look like hiring Amoora might have been the smartest thing he’d ever done…

#

Preparation to travel proceeded swiftly once Amoora took a large hand in organizing the Stellar Fete. Devon still insisted on touring the ship, but he was less and less surprised by the number of moomas which were filling up the vessel. It seemed like they were in every department, even in the ones which didn’t require their personal touch. But the remaining human and alien crew didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, they seemed to delight in the presence of the busty green aliens. He’d walked in on more than one crewman in a dark corridor, wrapped in the arms of a gorgeous mooma, moaning as his mouth was plundered in a kiss, or his lips adored huge, bouncy green breasts.

But Devon didn’t have much time for wandering these days. It tired him, and he had a hard time finding clothes that fit him. For some reason his body seemed to have grown sleeker. Slenderer. He wondered what that meant? He’d certainly been getting plenty of exercise. Amoora seemed inexhaustible in her affections, always ready to fuck him, suck him off, or do anything he needed. Honestly, it seemed like he hadn’t managed to check the system in weeks. If he wasn’t being fucked by the gorgeous mooma, he was busy recovering from their almost constant liaisons.

“Director?”

Devon stirred from his musings, swiveling in his chair towards his desk. The neon glow of the holo screens hummed before him, the AI’s voice droning in the air.

“Yes?” he said.

“I require confirmation of our destination.”

“Our destination?” he said, then shook himself, a sudden shot of adrenaline panic racing through him. “Fuck! I… I completely forget. System? Bring up the potential locations. I need to-”

“I do not understand, director. The location has been determined. I merely require confirmation.”

Devon stared, uncomprehending, at the screen. “Wh… what? Show me.”

A screen expanded before him, revealing a familiar scene. Egg-shaped habs on a tropical landscape, the gorgeous sea and a sprawling alien jungle of greens, violets, and reds in a sweeping blur of hues.

“Mandina?” he said blankly.

“Yes, sir. Your office has selected it. I only require your final confirmation and we can begin preparing to take on passengers.”

“But… I never… I didn’t…”

Understanding hit him like the shock of decompression. His eyes snapped to the door of his office and he jabbed the intercom.

“Amoora!”

“Yes, director?”

“Get in here!”

The door slid open and Amoora stepped inside, a loving smile on her face. “Yes, sir?” she said softly.

Devon opened his mouth, but even as he did he found his eyes wandering over her figure. The rage that had flared within him faded as if smothered under a heavy blanket. In its place, a tingling ached through him, his cock instantly rock hard for the gorgeous mooma as she stood, smiling politely in the doorway, all curves and willing loveliness.

“You wanted to see me?” Amoora said.

Devon jolted back to the present. “Y-yes. Yes. I did,” he said more sternly. “I ah… Look, did you…”

He trailed off as Amoora moved into the room, her wide hips swaying like a pendulum with her steps, her breasts wobbling in her tight, tight top in such a way that arrested the eye. Her presence seemed to fill the room. Devour his view. “Yes, Devon?” she said, coming around the desk. He heard a click and suddenly, the strap of her bra was floating down, leaving free her immense breasts to wobble tantalizingly into view. “What did I do?”

“You… you… L-look,” he said, trying to sound forceful. “Did you register this… this place as our destination?”

Amoora lazily glanced over at the hovering screen. Her smile widened. “Oh yes, Devon. I did. I just know it’s going to be such a big hit.”

“Amoora, that wasn’t your decision! It’s mine to make. Where we go. Where the ship goes. That’s the job of the director! The job I was born to do! You can’t just… I mean...”

“Of course it is, Devon,” Amoora said, leaning in suddenly close. “I would never think of overruling you.”

Devon leaned back, pressed into his chair. Yet even as he did, an equally powerful yearning surged through him, begging him to move forward. To bury his face in the gorgeous orbs of her immense breasts. To nuzzle and kiss them like a good boy.

A good boy…

Devon grit his teeth, trying to resist the aching lethargy that nearly made him swoon as soon as he inhaled her perfume. Fuck, he was so hard. His cock was shamelessly bulging in his loose uniform. “Amoora, I-”

“And I think you’d love to go to Mandina, Devon,” she said smoothly, moving forward. “I’m sure you and all the sexy, rich, powerful young heirs looking for a nice relaxing vacation would just adore visiting a planet just… filled with lonely moomas, needing to spoil and fuck and adore cute, adorable, obedient humans.”

“I… I…”

“Just like you do,” Amoora said, planting her hands on the back of his chair, arching her body, pressing her bouncy breasts nearly into his face. “I bet you’d just… love to visit my world. Just adore to relax on the beach with your pretty assistant. Your gorgeous, caring mooma mistress. It would be so nice to relax, Devon. So nice to just… stop… thinking…”

“S-stop?” Devon said, his voice slurring a little, his body feeling light again, as if ready to float up into Amoora’s gorgeous body.

“Yes,” Amoora breathed, leaning in closer, and Devon groaned in despair and unspeakable pleasure as her breasts pressed against his face, nearly burying him between their pillowy valley, suffocating him in her wonderful perfume. “The director doesn’t need to think. That’s what he hires his secretary to do. That’s why she hired all those lovely mooma to run his ship for him. He doesn’t need to worry himself about all those stressful things when relaxing is so much easier. So much better. So much more… pleasurable…”

Devon moaned, the wonderful weakness spreading further through him. Consuming him in a wave of pink bliss as Amoora straddled him on his chair, rubbing her pussy against his bulge.

“Do you want that, Devon?” Amoora said, giving her chest a bounce, jiggling her tits around his face. “Do you want me to make you so very happy? So very easy? Just say yes, Devon. And I’ll take care of everything. You’ll never need to work again. Never need to worry. You’ll be such a good boy. A good stud. All you have to do is let me fuck you. Pleasure you. Adore you. All you have to do is give in, Devon. Just let mistress do all the thinking for you. You’ll still be director. You’ll still be the boss. You’ll just do everything I say. Won’t that be so much easier? So much better?

“Say yes, Devon,” Amoora moaned, her body pressing down on him, her curves so soft, so warm, so glorious. “Say that’s what you want.”

It was.

It was so clearly what he wanted.

Every fiber cried out to be hers. To agree. To do anything Amoora wanted and more. And would it really be so bad? Wouldn’t it be so good to give in? To submit? To know only pleasure?

Some part of Devon railed against the idea, but he could come up with no counter arguments to her. He did want all she suggested. He did yearn to be hers. Her obedient boy. Her horny stud. Why shouldn’t he say yes?

There was no reason to say no.

And so, Devon moaned, “Yessss!”

Amoora smiled, eased back, releasing his gasping face from the depths of her breasts. “Good boy,” she purred.

Devon sighed, sinking back into his seat, a smile hovering on his lips as if all the tension, all the doubts floated from him. Drained away with that desperate moan of admission. He felt her hand on his, pulling him to his feet. The door at the back of the room hissed open, admitting him to his state room, his private sanctuary.

A low glow permeated the interior, washing the walls in purples, oranges and reds like galaxies burning their way around them. Amoora eased him down onto the bedding, her fingers trailing down his suit, the loose fabric opening easily.

“Undress, Devon,” she breathed, barely visible in the dark lights.

Devon did so, shrugging out of his suit, letting her pull it off him, revealing his toned, slender physique. Amoora cooed, leaning over him, kissing her way down his chest, every press of her lips making his breath hitch.

“Devon. So handsome,” she breathed. “So sexy. So perfect for mistress. I knew you would be. I knew you wanted this.”

“Ah!” Devon gasped as her lips reached his cock. Amoora’s eyes glowed softly in the gloom, her red lips seeming to glisten and shine as she kissed her way up his shaft, her hands hefting her immense breasts and wrapping them around his cock. Devon was far from small, yet her breasts were so big his manhood was utterly swallowed in them.

“Oh fuuuuuuck!” Devon groaned as Amoora bounced her breasts around him, squeezing his cock in that sweet valley of pleasure.

“Is it good, Devon?” Amoora whispered, her voice seeming to echo in the air. “Are mistress’s big breasts so good and soft around your cock?”

“Yes. Oh s-stars yessss!” Devon cried.

“And isn’t it so worth it?” she cooed, leaning down, her lips kissing the head of his cock whenever it emerged, sending shocks of glorious pleasure surging through him. “Isn’t this so worth giving up all that silly thinking? All those useless decisions? Isn’t it so much easier to just be my good boy? My obedient bimbo? My handsome, wonderful, horny boy?”

“Yes!” Devon gasped. “Yes! S-so good! Mistress… Oh stars mistress!”

“There it is,” Amoora cooed. “You called me mistress. I knew you would, my sweet boy. Now, give mistress that wonderful cum.”

Her breasts squeezed his cock, and as the tip emerged her lips wrapped around it. The sudden sensation of warm tightness was too much for him to bear, and Devon let out a needy moan of pure pleasure, clutching the sheets as he thrust up into her mouth, moaning in ecstasy as he came, his cock throbbing, pulsing, unloading into Amoora’s hungry mouth. The lovely mooma moaned, her lashes fluttering as she drank the bursts of his seed with a gusto that only made Devon feel hotter than before.

Her lips slid off his cock along with her breasts, and Devon wasn’t surprised to see he was still hard. His nanobots had been quick to react to the frequency of his orgasms, and keeping erect was no problem for him now.

“Mmm,” Amooa purred. “That was wonderful, Devon. But a good boy deserves far more reward for what you’ve done,” she said, climbing onto the bed, straddling him, looming above him like some fertility goddess of a savage world. Divine. Beautiful. Worthy of his obedient worship. “Do you want it, Devon?”

“More than… than anything,” he gasped, and the truth in those words put a smile on his face.

“Then confirm our destination,” Amoora breathed. “Agree to go to Mandina. Agree, and let’s bring all your friends with us. Let us show them how much they’ll love a mooma world.”

Devon shivered in understanding. Many of the highest corporate families used his pleasure line for vacation. The sons and daughters of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the sector. All of them offered up to a ship staffed with moomas. A world filled with the seductive aliens.

With barely a thought a screen blinked into being beside him, hovering above the rumpled sheets. The DNA reader glowed like a red disc in the air as he lifted a shaking hand and pressed a thumb to it.

There was a beep, a flash of green, and the screen faded away.

“Confirmed destination,” the system’s voice chimed around them. “Thank you, director.”

“There we are. What a good boy I have,” Amoora cooed as she lazily sheathed him within her. “What a… mmmm… a gooooood boy.”

Devon groaned as her pussy swallowed his cock. He grabbed her hips as if to anchor himself to reality as waves of otherworldly pleasure washed over him. As Amoora rode him, her breasts bouncing on her chest, almost hypnotic in their sway.

“Yessss!” Devon moaned, sinking into the pleasure of the moment. Of her body. Relishing every stroke of her glorious pussy on his cock. “Yesss! Mistress! Love… love mistress! Want you! Want you! Please… ah. Mistress. Oh fuck. Fuck! Mistresssss!”

His body was perfectly attuned to hers. To her pussy. It took no time at all for him to cum again. Again. Again. A seemingly endless parade of pleasured peaks as colours swirled about the room in hypnotic tailings of lights. He felt as if he were floating. Floating on a sea of unconscious pleasure. Above depths of pleasure. And now he was sinking.

Sinking.

Deep into wonderful, heady submission.

At last he sagged beneath her, breathing hard, head as empty as his balls, finally spent. Finally done.

Amoora hummed sweetly, rising, unsheathing him from her pussy. She stepped off the bed, and at once Devon found himself staring at her gorgeous rump. Amoora spared a look over her shoulder, gave him a teasing smile.

“Be back soon, Devon,” she said. “I need to make some final preparations for our departure. You just relax. Get some strength back. I have a lot in mind for rewarding my good boy.”

Devon’s body tingled. “Yes… yes, mistress,” he breathed.

Amoora laughed softly, blew him a kiss and turned, departing the bedroom. Devon sighed, sagging limply on the bed, staring at the ceiling as the colours swirled and danced.

The future looked very bright for him indeed.

[giuseppe-yuki]

supermarket

normal!yuki tsunoda x popstar!reader

w.c.: 1.2k

warnings: curse words

summary: a quick little trip to the store can't go wrong!

picture credits from pinterest :)

a middle-aged woman in a nice button down shirt squeezes by you on the way down the blush aisle. her daughter, no older than fifteen, eyes you suspiciously as she trails behind her mother, phone clutched in one hand. 

you give her a weak smile before you pull yuki’s oversized hoodie farther over your head and adjust your designer sunglasses.

as if he didn’t get the memo you were trying to be secretive, your boyfriend speeds down the aisle with the shopping cart, barely missing the mother-daughter duo, before skidding to a stop next to you.

in a barely-concealed whisper, he declares, “did you see that? that little girl had your photo card in her phone ca-“

”oh my god, yuki, shut up!” you whisper-shout.

shoving the sleeve of his jacket into a sweater paw, you hurriedly push it against his mouth, dampening his words and stopping him before he can say anything else.

he bats you away easily, laughing. 

”what?” he says innocently, as if he didn’t just announce to the entire store that the #1 leading artist on the billboard hot 100 was currently in the beauty aisle. 

“you can’t be saying that in the middle of a crowded store- you’re gonna get us caught!”

he rolls his eyes, scoffing.

“what’s gonna happen, huh?” he teases, looping his arm around your neck and pulling you into him. “ya gonna cause a whole riot?”

alas, being your boyfriend for barely a month, yuki severely misunderstood the insanity of your craved fans. (he hasn’t been through the hotel lobby stampedes or camped paparazzi outside your recording studio like you have)

behind you, the little girl clacks at her phone at a rapid pace.

yeah, you didn’t feel like getting swarmed today.

quickly, you drag yuki towards another aisle in the store, purposely skipping the vinyl aisle where a gaggle of college girls animatedly bickers over one of your prettily packaged music disks. 

it seemed like he still didn’t get the memo, however, because he sends a beaming smile towards them. 

out of the corner of your eye, you see one of the girls tap her friend‘s shoulder.

”hey, doesn’t that guy look like..” 

you don’t catch the end of her sentence, because you snatch yuki’s hand as fast as you can and shove him towards the produce section. 

pushing him up against the glass door of the frozen peas, you look at him as seriously as you can through your oversized sunglasses.

”yuki, i’m serious. you can’t draw attention to me. if someone recognizes me and we get swarmed, i’d never hear the end of it from my manager and then she’ll have to get me a security guard, and then we’ll never have privacy again, and then we won’t be able to sneak off after the concert parties to go…you know.”

your boyfriend’s eyes widen and sobers up almost immediately at the threat. 

”aye-aye captain,” he announces, mock-saluting you. 

he honors his word, marching behind you almost robotically with the cart as you trail into the sports-drink section, purposefully pretending to browse at the rows and rows of red-bull on the shelves. 

“okay- you don’t have to be like, that deflective baby,” you snort, loosening the grip of one of his hands from the shopping cart handle. you thread your fingers through his in a casual way, as if you were just another normal couple in a normal store, shopping for normal things. 

yuki blinks at you a few times before shrugging and squeezing your hand softly. 

the pair of you travel through the store, occasionally throwing a few items into the cart, like boxes of pasta or a soft plushie that you thought was cute.

your cart is almost full by the time you reach the cereal aisle, and you both untangle your fingers to choose a cereal. it was very serious decision. cheerios? coco pops? trix? 

as you filter through the choices, the tell-tale intro of one of your hits blare through the store speakers. 

yuki, half-way down the aisle, gives you a quick side-eye, but remembers your words and goes back to shuffling through a colourful cereal box that probably has an unhealthy amount of sugar inside.

as the song progresses, you hum quietly along, murmuring the chorus exactly like how you recorded it in your studio. 

you do a little spin around, absorbed in the beats of your music, and are about to catapult your cereal of choice into your shopping cart when you a suppressed gasp from beside you. 

you whip around to find a little boy, clutching a tiny navy blue and red race-car, gaping at you with star-struck eyes. 

“you’re- you’re- you’re-“ he blurbs, brown eyes blinking rapidly.

quickly, you crouch down to his level and shush him. 

“hi- yes, hello there!” you greet quickly. “i know what it looks like- you think i look like that popstar on tv right?”

he nods furiously.

”my sister looooves your songs! she has a big poster of you on her wall,” he says, quite matter-of-factly.

”right,” you say awkwardly. “that’s actually, um, not me. that’s my..my twin. she’s back at the recording studio making another song right now,” you say very seriously.

”woah,” he mutters. “that’s so cool. can you tell her that my sister and i reallyyyy likes her songs?” 

he stretches out the “really,” gesturing animatedly with his hands. 

“yes, of course!” you reply, way too quickly. “i will make sure she gets that message!”

the little boy brightens up more than he was before, if that was even possible, before waving a goodbye and skipping down the aisle.

yuki wears a slight smile on his face before he presses a kiss to your cheek when you turn around. 

“okay, you were kind of exaggerating when it comes to your adoring fans, no? that little kid seemed sweet to me,” he notes. 

you hope that your boyfriend never experiences a fan sneaking backstage before your concerts in order to catch a glimpse of you.

”well-“ you hum, tugging the hood of his jacket up again so it covers your face, “you’ve obviously never seen-“

a startling scream comes from the end of the aisle. it sounds quite alarming, like the type you hear when the dinosaur is about to gobble someone up in jurassic park. 

automatically, your first instinct is to abandon your cart, grab yuki, and run from the potential danger- which you do, before you realize: what the hell are you running from?

when you turn, the first thing you spot is the teenage girl from the makeup aisle, phone propped up in her hands. second, the little boy with the race-car with his finger trained straight at you. 

god-fucking-damn-it. 

it’s an hour and a half before you make it out of the store, your shopping session having turned into a get-your-photo-and-signature--with-the-popstar-in-the-cereal-aisle-session.

by the time yuki had elbowed his way out of the crowd and out of the store with you in hand in a quite insane manner that should have gotten him a few counts of aggravated assault, there was an army of paparazzi stationed at the front doors, camera trained on the both of you.

however, they leave a thin strip of space between the flood of cameras that leads to your saving grace in front of a tinted car- a stern woman with a disapproving frown- your manager. 

she just about shoves the both of you into the backseat before commanding your driver to drive.

in the backseat, squished next to you, yuki looks at you with horror. 

“now i understand what you mean by getting swarmed.”

[clumsynymph]

“Don’t look up, I think we made the Sun cry.”

Synopsis: A single voice resounded in his mind. Was a soul’s fate still tied to his?

While thinking that he has reached the end of his tribulations, Il Capitano discovers the last ounce of cruelty Celestia bestowed upon him and you. [A Soulmate AU - Angst - GN!Reader]

a/n: I have yet to finish the archon quest (although I have read quite a few things about it and did watch the parts in which Il Capitano was) so there might be some elements that stray from the canon.

Warnings: There are spoilers for Il Capitano's story and the Archon Quest.

Word count : 1295

I do not consent for my work to be used in any way by AI.

Deafening Silence.

This was the very first thing that hit The Captain.

How long has it been? How long has it been since he last heard silence? How long has it been since the agonized screams of his companions had broken into his mind, merging with his soul? While knowing the exact answer to those questions, he was certain that mere words would never be able to convey what he has been through. He had always refused to ask those questions, never wanted to. Even now, guilt ate away at him because he had dared formulate them in his mind. After all, those who suffered the most were his companions. They were the ones who were unable to know rest, stuck in between realms, agony taking ahold of them day and night. He merely carried them with him, listening to their pleas.

Now, they could finally rest.

Before his eyes, a dark canvas stained by thousands upon thousands of stars, some of them fell down, leaving beautiful golden strokes behind them before eventually disappearing in the horizon upon which sky and sea were woven. The Captain…

No, Thrain.

Thrain slowly got up from the sitting position he hadn’t even realized he had kept even after reaching the Night Kingdom. Nothing remained of the throne upon which he had been sitting but smoke. Smoke that eventually faded away in the seemingly infinite landscape. Where was the realm’s limit? Was there even such a thing as a limit in the Night Kingdom? 

One step at the time, he marched towards the horizon.

                 One step at the time…

He began to run towards it.

   Running and running until his unfeeling consciousness had its fill.

His gaze abandoned the endless sky and fell down upon the water beneath his feet. Piercing blue eyes stared back at him, his complexion still mostly hidden away by his helmet. He closed them and, without much thought, his hands -still hidden away by his gauntlets- reached up, took ahold of the helmet and stripped it away. The movement was just as steady as when he would duel. Yet, what he saw in the starry sea faltered his resolve.

Once more, those scars were starring back at him. Old, yet still putrid wounds inflicted to him in times past. Perhaps, his desire to hide them away from the world was partly caused by his own desire to ignore them. Yet, part of him did not want to put the helmet back. He kneeled down and carefully put the piece of armor on the surface of the water, hiding his face from his view. The same fate awaited his gauntlets and armguards. As he removed them, he revealed decay and old bruises to the curious yet voiceless Night. The soft clinking of the metal was the sole proof and reminder that he hadn’t suddenly gone completely deaf.

“They are not the only ones who can now rest, right..?”

A soft, hesitant, almost fearful voice resounded in his mind. Alarmed he turned around, seeking its owner. As he found none, Thrain couldn’t help but feel his heart clench. Was a soul left behind? Unable to reach the other realm’s shore… Was it stuck with him? Yet it didn’t sound as pained as his former companions’.

“You can hear me?”

A gasp had preceded the question, and a suffocated sob had followed it. His guard rose up. Was it another being stuck in the Night Realm? Was there a piece of the deal made by Mavuika that was left in the dark? Seemingly unfazed by his lack of verbal answer, the voice continued despite the strain.

“You know, I really thought that you had decided to ignore me…that was until I heard their voices and then, I realized that you were simply taken away from me ⎯ yet another fate awaiting you... I kept asking myself what we had done to deserve such a destiny. I thought that you would never get to rest, that you would never get to hear my voice because it was drowned in others’ cries…”

Realization dawned on him as your pained voice kept echoing around him…No, inside of his mind. As you let your heart pour down on him, he understood that his fate had been, in fact, woven to another’s. Such cruelty. Why had your life been entwined with his? You had tried to reach out to him, yet he never heard you. You, on the other hand, had to hear the agonized echoes that resounded in his mind. Could you even cut off your connection from time to time? Even if the issue was now resolved, you were stuck with a fated partner that would never wake up. One that was eternally sent to another Realm. You would perish long before him…

Your voice, which has stopped without him even realizing, resumed.

“Nameless Soulmate, please, don’t…You’re suffering as well…”

His frantic thoughts quieted down, leaving silence in their wake. Yet, his voice was the one that could be heard next.

“You’re kind.”

“You are too; I know it.”

Thrain’s eyes looked up, starring at the countless pale stars above him.

“Even if we are destined to never meet, I’m still happy I got to hear your voice, at least once in my lifetime.”

He could feel his heartbeat pick up, reminding him that the organ had been there all along, that it hadn’t yet turned to stone despite the long years and the curse. He wondered, what could your life have been like if he had met you back in Khaenri'ah? How would your eyes have sparkled then? What color were they? How soft would your skin have felt under his touch? Would you have kissed his, not yet corroded, face? What would have been the name of your firstborn? How would your face have lit up at the sight of the sea the first time he would have taken you there…?

A stray tear fell down his face.

And then another one,

                                               And another one,

And in the end, sobs erupted from his chest, his scarred fingers reaching out for his tunic, grabbing at it. All this time, he had never even considered the idea that a monster such as him could have a soulmate, that he would ever get to hear their voice…That this voice would sound so soft even after bearing the souls’ cries while thinking that its fated partner had forsaken it all along. Yet here you were. Despite every buried feeling that was slowly clawing its way back to him, he could still hear you trying your best to sooth him, reassuring him as you could in spite of everything that had happened. Although you had never seen him, you shared his thoughts and have clearly had a good indication of the state of his body, of his skin…You knew that you might never meet…And yet, you comforted him…

When he felt that his voice was steady enough, he uttered a few words.

A few words that didn’t seem to belong to the fearless Captain, First of the Fatui Harbinger or to Thrain the khaenri’ahn Commander.

They belonged to a soul that had shouldered much more than it should have. A bright and beautiful soul, one that had fought selflessly… One that had finally discovered that fate had blessed and cursed him at the same time by entwining his life with another’s…

“Thrain… That is the name that was given to me. What is yours...?”

Yet, he wanted to hold onto this bond, even if it were to never see the daylight. Now that everything had come to an end, perhaps he could bare his soul to you, even a little bit.

A stray star fell down.

Even your name sounded sweet as Honey.

[nocandnc]

OkoHoshi Week Day 4: High School AU

Okonogi and Hoshina on Day Duty! In Japan, students have to clean the classrooms after class and it's their turn.

Assuming I got all my formatting right, the blackboard writing reads as follows:

March 27th (Thursday) Day Duty Hoshina, Okonogi

Hoshina's drawn an ai ai gasa between their names, aka love love umbrella. It may be a bit old fashioned nowadays(?) but to give a Western equivalent, it's like drawing a heart around you and your crush's names! A magic charm to make you get together.

I have Some Thoughts about this AU, so I'll put them under the cut!

To get away from his family in Kyoto, Hoshina transfers to a school in Yokohama as soon as he turns 16 (since that's when students can live alone in Japan, with parental approval.) Despite transferring so late in the year he quickly becomes the star of the Kendo Club, and so his teammates - the upperclassmen especially - are a bit spiteful towards him. But he only joined so he could use the on-site dojo freely, so it doesn't really bother him... is what he says.

Okonogi is in the Broadcasting Club, where she and others host sessions over the school PA system. The Seven School Mysteries are a popular topic of discussion for Okonogi's corners and she always makes sure to congratulate other clubs on their hard work, like the Kendo Club. Hoshina takes note of the cute voice praising him, and after a month or so of sleuthing around he's is happy to discover she was in his class all along!

Okonogi isn't shy per se, but she tends to keep quiet reading mystery novels or practicing math drills when she's not thinking up new broadcasting topics. Her quiet time has become not so quiet since Hoshina noticed her presence though. The other girls have even started giving her dirty looks... it's a pain.

She braids her hair because 'that's the only way I can get it to look decent', but by second year Hoshina will convince her to not bother with all that and just wear her hair down. Because she looks cuter that way!! Not because the braids remind him of his brother or anything. Definitely not.

Aaaand that's probably enough rambling for now ^^;;; maybe I'll write about them more some other time!

[captainsophiestark]

Nothing Wrong With Emotions

Platonic!Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024! Requested by Anon! Hope you like it, Nonnie, and thanks for being patient through the delay!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day Twenty-Six Prompt: "You were the first."

Summary: Anakin's at the beginning of the worst two days of his life. Thankfully, his best friend is there when he needs them, and they're more emotionally intelligent than some of the other Jedi.

Word Count: 4,903

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

My mind whirled as I marched through the halls of the Jedi temple, the length of my to-do list rapidly creeping towards overwhelming. This war had been going on for far too long, and even worse, there'd been a growing disturbance in the Force that had been nagging at the back of my mind for days. I kept glancing outside, expecting to see dark storm clouds through the windows to reflect the storm I felt coming with every fiber of my being, but the bright blue sky was unobstructed.

Something was wrong. I knew it, and so did the entire Jedi Council and then some. But none of us could quite figure out what.

Until anything more concrete could be figured out, we all still had mountains of work to accomplish. I needed to visit Jocasta in the Archives, check out five different books, bring a few to the Creche, meet with Master Windu-

My mind and body came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the hallway like I'd physically run into a wall. My to-do list, the lurking low-level disturbance in the Force, and just about everything else in my mind had just been shoved violently to the side by the feelings being put out by my best friend, who was apparently just down the hall from me.

Anakin Skywalker and I had met when he became a Padawan. We'd crossed paths regularly enough and spent enough time together that we'd bonded quickly, and now, he was probably my closest friend in all the worlds. As a result, I could usually read and feel him through the Force better than anyone else. But with the knot of negative emotions he was putting out right now, I was betting a Jedi in the Outer Rim would be able to notice.

I frowned, dropping my data pad on the nearest table and turning to go after Anakin. I had no idea what could've caused the hornet's nest of energy my best friend was putting out, but there was no way I was going to go about my day and ignore it.

I had to jog a little to catch up to him, since he was walking away from me. I caught him at the end of one of the Temple's hallways, seemingly headed for the hanger. I grabbed his elbow before he could round the corner, and he whirled on me with such a fierce scowl that, had it been anybody else, I would've flinched.

"Ani? What's wrong?"

Anakin practically growled, his shoulders up by his ears and his jaw clenched. Still, he had the gaull to say, "Nothing."

I scoffed. "My friend, I've never seen a more obvious lie in my life. I know you much better than that, although you apparently don't think so."

That negative air around Anakin instensified. He was clearly hanging on by a thread. I glanced around the hallway, and although no one else was around, I knew from first-hand experience that the Jedi Temple wasn't always the best place to process strong emotions.

"Alright, how about we go somewhere else?" I suggested, gently taking Anakin's arm again. He kept his glare trained on me, the swarming storm still clearly raging, but he didn't try to pull away from me either. Gently, slowly, I led Anakin away from the Temple, and thankfully, he followed.

"Where are we going?" Anakin barked, the first words he'd managed since his lie in the hallway. I glanced back at him with a smile.

"A place that's good for processing shit. Just trust me for a minute, okay?"

Anakin didn't respond, but he didn't make a move to leave, either, and the dark cloud centered on his chest didn't get any bigger. We climbed into my speeder, and after a short ride, parked at the top of one of the tallest buildings on the planet. The sun had just started to set, painting the sky in beautiful colors that didn't match the lurking darkness at all.

I hopped out, and when Anakin didn't immediately follow me, I motioned for him to do the same. After another moment's hesitation, he slowly climbed out of the passenger seat, glaring doubtfully around us.

"What is this place?" he asked. His tone had lost some of its gravel, which was a relief. I smiled and spread my arms wide, gesturing to the rooftop before us.

"This is paradise," I said. "A smaller, separate loction to the Coruscant Gardens. I made friends with the gardeners here a while ago, and they agreed to let me come up here and hang out whenever I wanted, as long as I don't hurt the plants. It's become my favorite place to be when I need... space. From the rest of the Jedi, to process things, from the war and the senate and whatever else... for anything, really."

"What do you mean, when you need space from the rest of the Jedi?"

I turned back to Anakin with a raised eyebrow. The set of his shoulders alone told me he knew exactly what I meant by "space from the Jedi", but they also told me he might not be in the mood to be teased about it.

"Well... you know, sometimes the Council and everybody can get a little... stuffy. And they taught me a lot of great techniques for managing my emotions, but meditation takes a lot of fucking practice and doesn't always work for me, especially in the middle of a storm. So, I've found other strategies for when the regular Jedi ones don't work. And from the energy you're putting out into the world right now, I thought you could use something like that."

Anakin frowned, but he took a few steps closer to me, away from the speeder. I gave him a tentative smile.

"Are you saying meditation doesn't work for you? That... that what the masters have taught us doesn't work for you?"

I shrugged. "A lot of the time, it does. More and more the more I practice. But sometimes, no, Ani, it doesn't work for me. The feelings are too strong or get too built up, and I need another way to bleed off steam before the kettle boils over, so to speak. Like this!"

I turned from Anakin and raised my hand, using the Force to start the program I'd put together up here years ago. To the side of the garden, in the empty parking space next to my speeder, a plate shot up and into the air. I used my blaster to shoot it before it could come back down, and I grinned as the thing shattered to pieces. Then, I turned back to Anakin with a smile.

"It's more satisfying to smash the plates by hand, but I can't do that from a distance, and I wanted to show off."

Anakin just stared at me for a long moment. To my relief, his surprise and confusion seemed to be taking over some of the space his anger had been occupying before.

"Are you really telling me that when you're angry... you come up here and smash plates?"

"When I get angry enough, yeah. It's not a fix, though, it's just a pressure vent. When I really feel like I'm going to lose it—like when I heard about what General Krell did, and all I wanted to do was go kill him in his cell—I come up here and let some of that rage vent off. Then, it's easier for me to use other, less destructive strategies to manage things. But Ani, I don't think I need to tell you, trying to mediate when you feel like your blood is boiling and every nerve in your body is screaming? It's... not the easiest thing to do."

"No," he said, voice grim and the scowl back on his face. "No, it isn't."

"So then let's smash some plates! Come on, I promise it'll help. And then maybe you can tell me a little bit about what's wrong. Talking usually does wonders for strong emotions, too."

Anakin looked dubious, but we'd been through so much together that he trusted me enough to try.

Anakin moved into the space I'd specfically designed as a sort of protected area for plate-smashing, picking up the first thing he saw. He held it up, but paused briefly and turned back to me. The rage swirled around so strongly, I swear it almost manifested physically around him.

"And you won't tell the Council about this?"

I snorted. "No! Fuck the Council! Smash some plates!"

Anakin huffed, then didn't wait another second to do as I said. He moved like lightning, grabbing one plate and then another, hurling each one into the ground. He kept going, getting more and more worked up, the anger rising up and around him as he let it all out. He became more and more frenzied, then slammed one last plate into the ground so hard that parts of it became dust, before letting out a long, loud scream.

I just watched him, being careful not to let my emotions bleed out through the Force too much. Watching my best friend clearly in so much pain was tearing me up, but I knew Anakin would hate the pity, so I needed to move past it for both our sakes.

Finally, as the scream died out with the last of Anakin's air on that breath, he slumped forward, breathing hard. Still, his shoulders were lower than his ears for the first time since I'd found him in the hallway, and that roaring wave of anger had quieted a little, being joined with frustration and sadness.

I gave him a second, then slowly approached when I was sure he wasn't going to reach for another plate. I put a hand gently on his shoulder, and when he turned to face me, I found him with tears streaming down his face and the same fierce scowl he'd had earlier.

"Anakin," I said, trying to strike the right balance of calm and firm. "Talk to me."

"I can't," he ground out. "I can't talk to you!"

"Why? I swear, everything stays between us. But the plates are just the first part, Ani. The second part is talking things out and finding a way to move forward-"

"No!" He'd been shaking his head for most of my speech, but he broke in when he couldn't take it anymore. "There are things you don't know, that I can't tell you!"

I studied his face, trying to figure out what exactly he might be referring to. I had a couple of theories, but Anakin still didn't seem to be in a good place to respond to theories, so I decided to take a different approach.

"Okay... is there any part of what's bothering you that you can talk to me about? Even something smaller, that's been part of the buildup? Or you could just tell me about the feelings without talking about the cause."

Anakin took a few deep breaths, clenching his jaw as he took heavy breaths in and out. He looked to be at war with himself, so I just concentrated on putting out calm, non-judgemental energy and hoped for the best.

Slowly, Anakin straightened. I let my hand drop back to my side, but I didn't take a step back. A lot of the manic energy had disappated from Anakin, but none of the emotions had yet.

"Master Windu doesn't trust me. I- I found the Sith Lord."

"What?" I cried, leaning forward and grabbing Anakin's forearm. "Anakin, are you serious?"

"It's Chancellor Palpatine."

I just blinked at him for a few moments, trying to take that information in. Then it was my turn for some fear and negative emotions to take root in my chest.

"Shit. Are you sure? Of course you're sure. Oh, this is the absolute worst-case scenario. Anakin, did you tell Windu? What did he say? If he's not going to do something, we-"

"He's going to confront the Chancellor with Masters Fisto, Tiin, and Kolar. I told him that the Chancellor is very powerful, and that they might need my help. I offered to go! But he refused to let me come. Told me to sit and wait for their return in the Council Chambers."

I frowned again, my mind racing a million miles an hour. I didn't let go of Anakin, and I could feel just how carefully he was watching me. Knowing that Windu and other Jedi had gone after the Chancellor was simultaneously scary and a relief, but in both cases, it meant he was currently someone else's problem. I could put that on the backburner to pay attention to my best friend, at least for now. I took a deep breath and shook my head.

"You think Windu told you to wait in the Council Chamber because... he doesn't trust you?"

"I know it. He told me himself I'd earn his trust only after he returned from confronting the Chancellor, only if I was correct."

I narrowed my eyes and huffed. "That's fucking ridiculous."

"You sound angry."

"I am angry. You've been here for a long time, Anakin, and you've done so much for the Order and for the galaxy as a whole. If Windu has a problem, he at least could've put it a little more diplomatically."

"I don't think I've ever seen you angry before."

The shock of that statement was enough to shake me out of my thought. I met Anakin's eyes with surprise.

"What? Yes you have."

"No, I haven't," he said, a bit of irritation in his voice. Thankfully, it was the kind I normally heard from him whenever we bickered, not the more serious kind. "Jedi don't get angry, just like you, and just like Obi-Wan, and just like every other damned Jedi but me!"

"Anakin... what? Of course Jedi get angry! Do you not remember me threatening to kill Kenobi when he threw out the Outer Rim delicacy I tracked down while we were out there because 'he thought it looked spoiled'? I literally almost punched him in the nose!"

"No, I don't remember that!"

"Kriffing hell! You must've been training or something with Ahsoka. Whatever. The point is, Anakin, everybody gets angry. Everybody humanoid, at least! It's emotion, which all of us have. Even Obi-Wan, who I'll admit, is remarkably good at not letting anything get to him."

Anakin just stared at me, looking absolutely thunderstruck, so I continued.

"We also, like you and everyone else, get sad and scared and exhausted and irritated. And happy and excited and impatient! It's normal to feel, Anakin. I'm sorry if somebody made you believe otherwise."

He started shaking his head, slowly and then much more quickly and frantic.

"No. No, that's not the Jedi way. The Jedi aren't supposed to feel, we aren't allowed to feel."

"If that were true every last one of us would've been kicked out years ago! Anakin, you can't control your feelings. You can control how you handle them, and that's what they're always trying to teach us at the Temple. But there's no amount of training or pratice or meditiation or whatever that can just magically make you not feel anger, ever again."

I saw Anakin's mind working as it processed what I'd just said. He seemed to accept it, at least, before I could feel his attention shift in the Force, and his fierce scowl returned.

"Even if you're right, no amount of 'handling' would help me."

"What are you talking about? Come on, Ani, I'm your best friend! If you can't tell me, who can you tell?"

"No one! I already told you, no one! I'm... I'm running out of time..." The sharp storm of anger changed abruptly into one of fear as Anakin's attention shifted away from me and back to the city. "We've been here too long. I need to go, now!"

He started taking off for the speeder, and it took my brain a few moments to catch up to his 180 degree shift. Once it did, I ran after him.

"Anakin, stop! Please, talk to me!"

I caught the edge of his robe and pulled it back. The moment I did, Anakin whirled on me, his expression a storm that threatened to bowl me flat. Still, I didn't flinch, and I didn't give up an inch.

"I can't be here! I'm running out of time! Padmé-"

He stopped abruptly and scowled even deeper, but the name was already out of his mouth.

"I knew this had something to do with her! Come on, Ani, talk to me. What's wrong? Is she okay? Is she mad at you? Is somebody coming after her again?"

"It's... It's none of your concern!"

Anakin whipped around again, pulling his robes out of my grip, but I called after him.

"If something's wrong with my good friend and my best friend's wife, then it's absolutely my concern!"

That got Anakin to stop dead in his tracks. He turned back around to me, his expression wild as the wind from up here blew his hair. I just stared back with a raised eyebrow.

"How do you know about that?" he demanded. I scoffed.

"Anakin, please! I'm your best friend, and the two of you are absolute shit at hiding it! I literally walked into the kitchen on one of the Cruisers and found you guys making out."

"When?" he demanded, sounding indignant.

"You'd know if you'd had an ounce of awareness! You were so busy making out with your wife that you literally didn't even notice I was there. I turned around and walked out because I did not want to see that for another second, and you clearly wanted to keep it a secret on some level. But this was months ago."

Anakin looked like I'd just shoved him over. I put a hand on my hip and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to recover from his shock enough speak again. When he'd just about got there, I continued.

"Now seriously, Ani. If something's wrong with Padmé or your future child that you conveniently forgot to tell your best friend about, I want to know about it. I want to help you."

Anakin blinked a few more times, then finally sighed. He took a few steps towards me (and away from the speeder), his shoulders slumping.

"I... I've been having these dreams. I haven't been able to tell anyone but Padmé about them, and she keeps telling me they're nothing. But they weren't nothing when I was having dreams about my mother."

I closed the rest of the distance between us, putting an arm around Anakin as I eased him into sitting on one of the garden's benches, close to the edge of the parking lot. His hands shook as he held them up to emphasize his speaking, and the second he noticed, he shoved them between his legs.

"I keep having nightmares about Padmé dying with our children, as she's having them. There's something very wrong, but she won't believe me, and I can't talk to anyone else about it without telling them about our relationship. It's on me to save her. The Chancellor seemed to know, seemed to want to help me... and I don't know that I have another choice anymore."

"...Anakin. You just told me yourself that he's a Sith lord."

"But what other choice do I have?" he cried, exploding again. "I won't lose her. I won't let her die! I was too late to save my mother, I won't be too late to save Padmé. Master Windu says he doesn't trust me because he can feel my fear, but how else am I supposed to feel?"

I nodded, taking a deep breath as I put my hand on Anakin's shoulder again. He was seething, but he tolerated it.

"Your fear is valid, Anakin. If I had recurring nightmares about losing you, I'd be sticking to you like glue on missions. And that's without the factor of children! But if you starting taking rash, drastic actions as a result of that fear—like trusting a Sith lord who's been lying and manipulating his way through the Jedi for years—it might just cause exactly what you're scared of in the first place."

"So what are you saying? You're telling me I should do nothing, too?"

"No! Just... take a few deep breaths, and make your decisions with as rational a head as you can. From what I remember you telling me, Anakin, the dreams about your mom were actually visions happening in real time. And I'm sorry to remind you of that at all, but that means they were different than your dreams of Padmé. I saw her walking around the senate chambers today. She's not already dead."

Anakin took a deep breath as, to my relief, my words seemed to manage to get through to him, at least a little bit. When he spoke again, it was at a normal volume despite the words being a bit strained.

"That doesn't change the fact that she's in danger. Just because she's alright for now doesn't mean that she won't be-"

He broke off, clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes shut tight. I moved my hand from his shoulder to take both of his hands in mine.

"Has Padmé gone to her doctor lately? To check out whether anything is wrong? She's due soon, isn't she?"

"Yes. She's due soon. I don't know if she's been to a doctor since the dreams started. The Jedi... things have been keeping me from her recently."

"Well, okay then. For Padmé's sake and your own, let's sit up here and take a few deep breaths. I know that sounds like what everyone else in the Order's been telling you, but we did smash plates earlier, so I'm hoping you'll trust me. Then, once we're acknowleding the fear but making it take a backseat on decision-making, we can go see Padmé. We'll talk to her, and go see her doctor, just to check everything out and make sure it's all okay. I'll go with you to maintain the 'friendship' cover as much as possible. With all of the technology and medicine available to us, Anakin—especially since Padmé serves in the senate and you're a Jedi—any complications should be completely treatable and preventable. Then, once you're feeling alright about that, we can make a choice."

Anakin narrowed his eyes, then raised an eyebrow at me.

"And what choice is that?"

"If you want to stay with Padmé, we stay with Padmé. If you want to talk to Windu, we work together and come up with a plan for you to talk to Windu. Hopefully, by the time we get back to the Temple, he and the others will have defeated Palpatine and we can put all this behind us. But one way or another, we can practice and work out a conversation starter for you to discuss with him why he doesn't trust you, and how that makes you feel. It might not change his mind, but I really think it'll make you feel better to get it out there and talk about it with him. Calmly, though. As much as you might want to yell at him, and as nice as it might feel in the moment, it'll only make you worse off in the end. Which is why we come up here to smash plates first."

To my immense relief, that last part made Anakin crack the smallest of smiles. The knot of fear and lingering anger was still there, but much smaller, and confined to just a part of my best friend. That overwhelming knot I'd noticed earlier was almost entirely gone.

"I... think I like that plan. At least the first part of it."

"Good, then let's go do it. Just remember, Ani: I'm here for you. Odds are good that you're going to feel really scared and really angry again as we deal with the next few days. And that's normal. We just have to practice managing it, and I'm here for you whenever you need help with that."

"...Does that mean I officially get access to this place whenever I want it?" He gestured to the garden and smaller plate-smashing station around us, and I smiled.

"Sure. But you're gonna have to do some shopping for cheap plates before you come up here again. Believe it or not, I'm just about out."

"Seems like a pretty low number of plates you had up here. Aren't you supposed to be more prepared than that as a Jedi Knight?"

"Plate shopping was on my long list of errands for today. But... I ended up having more important things to do with my day."

The two of us shared a smile, and although Anakin's was weak, it felt like the sun shining down on us to me. We weren't out of the storm yet, but looking at my best friend in that moment, I knew we were both going to get to the other side okay.

****************

"Oh... my stars."

I grinned, my feeling echoing Obi-Wan's as the two of us and Ahsoka were led into the delivery room. Padmé laid in the bed, a baby cradled in her arms, and Anakin stood beside her with the other baby in his.

After Anakin and I's long talk on the roof, and after getting through some of the immediate aftermath of dealing with Chancellor Palpatine being a Sith lord, he'd finally decided to share his and Padmé's "secret" with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, along with Rex, Cody, and a few of the other clones we'd been to hell and back with. Literally all of them had already known, but everyone other than Obi-Wan pretended to be surprised for Anakin's sake, and the knowledge meant a lot more to all of us now that Anakin had voluntarily shared it with us.

Even after all the doctor's appointments and support from his friends, I could feel the weight that had lifted from Anakin's shoulders with Padmé sitting in bed now, tired but healthy, their babies just as healthy and delivered in their arms.

"Wanna hold her? Her name's Leia," Anakin said, gently holding the baby in his arms out to Obi-Wan. He looked about knocked flat, but gingerly held his arms out all the same.

"Of course I do."

Anakin smiled, gently putting Leia into Obi-Wan's arms. Ahsoka headed over towards Padmé, and I was about to follow her when Anakin caught me, taking my arm and gently pulling me aside.

"Do you have a minute?"

I nodded, following Anakin as he led me just out of the room and into the hallway. I raised an eyebrow, but I could tell from Anakin's energy and the smile on his face that this was nothing bad.

"I have something to ask you."

"Okay... spit it out then. Dad."

Anakin's smile was enough to outshine the sun, and it warmed my heart to see him like that.

"Well, Padmé and I talked, and... since both of our lives are so dangerous, and since I may or may not be able to continue in the Order depending on how well we can continue to hide our secret..."

I scoffed, but Anakin ignored me.

"We wanted to make you the honorary, support-parent of the twins. I'm not going to let anything happen to us, but if something ever did... we want you to take them. And either way, we want you to be involved in their lives as... a mentor, of sorts."

"Anakin... I don't need a title or an official invitation to do everything I can to be in their lives. Frankly, not even death could stop me. Since Force ghosts exist and all."

Anakin grinned. "I know that. But I want you to have the title anyway. I mean, who better to help guide my kids through life than the person who made sure I didn't let my fear ruin any shot at actually seeing them?"

"...Surely someone else has told you that emotions are a normal, healthy thing for you to be feeling?"

"Believe it or not? You were the first."

I smiled, then moved forward to wrap Anakin in a tight hug. He didn't waste a second returing the gesture.

"I would be honored to play a role like that in the twins' life, Ani," I said, not letting go of him as I spoke. "Thank you for trusting me with it."

"Thank you for helping me get a hold of everything. I love Obi-Wan, but... he never managed to teach it the way you did. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't found me when you did."

I squeezed Anakin tight, letting the seriousness live on for another moment before pulling away with a grin.

"Are you kidding me? I'll always find you, whether you want me to or not. I'm your best friend. You can't get rid of me, and you can't hide anything from me. And don't you forget it."

Anakin scoffed and rolled his eyes, but I could see how genuine the smile on his face was. I clapped him on the shoulder and took a step back towards the delivery room.

"Come on. I'm honorary guardian of the twins, and I haven't even met them yet. Obi-Wan's been holding Leia for long enough, it's my turn now."

"Good luck getting her back. Did you see the look on his face? I think I'm going to have to force him to let her go."

The two of us shared a laugh as we reentered the delivery room. The past few years of the war and the past few weeks especially had been brutal, on all of us. And there was still a lot of work to be done putting things right. But some very, very good things had come out of it, too, and no matter what came next, we'd always have each other.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

[callalillywrites]

Not Your Motorcycle

Written for @steverogersbingo. A4 - Motorcycle.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Steve Rogers Bingo | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1861

Summary: All you wanted after a long day at work is to ride your motorcycle until your tension and stress disappeared. The last thing you ever expected was to find Steve checking out your bike or anything that follows.

Warnings: mutual pining/attraction; meddling friends (mainly Nat, but Tony to smaller extent); fluff; lots of fluff; gentlemanly Steve (absolute warning)

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

Dr. Banner couldn't get back fast enough.

Exhaustion and tension threatened to cave you in as you stepped onto the elevator.

Who knew a shift with Tony Stark could feel like an eternity?

Oh, how you missed the quieter, can-hear-yourself-think time spent with your actual boss. There hadn't been one thought that Mr. Stark had kept to himself. If he wasn't talking through one problem he wanted to work on, he was blasting his music at an ungodly level. Your head thumped to the beat until it throbbed and screamed for the quiet you preferred.

Dr. Banner played music, sure, but it was always at a level that you could tune out when it suited you. He also never really spoke unless he needed your opinion on one matter or another. The two of you could spend almost the entire day in silence, working on your respective duties. It was something you wouldn't ever take for granted again while praying you wouldn't have Mr. Stark for company again the next day.

All you wanted in that moment was to hop on your bike and ride.

Where? It didn't matter. Just wind yourself through the streets and out to the more country-ish roads until you found the peace you desperately needed. Sure, maybe you'd stop for a bite to eat somewhere, but you had no plans to stop until the hour grew late.

Maybe you'd even make a weekend of it. It's why you kept a spare set of clothes in your saddlebags. All it would take is a quick search for a little place to spend the night.

Your grand plan ground to a halt the moment you stepped into the parking garage.

Some oversized dude had apparently taken a liking to your bike and was now sitting on it.

The absolute audacity. The nerve.

"Excuse me," you shouted as you marched toward the guy on your bike. "What exactly do you think you're doing? Didn't your mama ever teach you not to touch other's stuff? Get off my bike before I—"

The words died abruptly in your throat.

The great hulk of a man who'd been on your bike had turned toward you at the start of your tirade. But, you'd been so caught up in shouting it took a moment to compute who he was. When your brain finally caught up to your mouth, it was too late.

Staring back at you were the bluest eyes you've ever encountered. The same eyes you'd dreamed about a time or two. How could you not? After all, they belonged to none other than Captain America, Steve Rogers himself.

To his credit, he appeared at a loss, quickly and easily moving off your bike and taking a few steps away. His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck as pink suffused his cheeks. "I didn't realize it was yours. Tony's been talking up his newest bike, and I was led to believe this was it. My sincerest apologies."

Your earlier ire died swiftly.

His sincerity and horrified expression was more than enough to easily forgive him. It was a relatively minor transgression compared to if he'd been a complete stranger who'd wandered into the gated garage.

If anyone should incur your wrath, it should be Mr. Stark, not Captain Rogers. No, Steve Rogers had only ever been kind and even sweet whenever the two of you interacted. It wasn't often he'd come into Dr. Banner's labs. When he did though, he was always courteous and maybe a little quieter than you thought he would be as you worked. He wouldn't linger, either.

You had no idea that he often wished he had more excuses to come into Dr. Banner's labs. Nor were you aware that he's liked you from the first time he'd seen you, but he'd never found an opening that made sense. He'd give almost anything to have a chance to learn more about you.

"It's, uh, okay," you finally stammered when you realized you hadn't responded to him. No, you'd been a bit busy losing yourself to your thoughts while also staring at him. Not drooling or anything, mind you, but in a way that Steve couldn't quite read if he'd deeply offended you or not. "I wasn't aware that Mr. Stark was a bike man. He doesn't seem the type."

That earned you a huff of what could only be laughter.

Steve's eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile blossomed.

"Yeah," he said after a moment, "he's more a collector than rider nowadays. Prefers his suit, you know."

You smiled at him. "Oh, I know he does. I don't think he stopped talking about it all day as he worked in Dr. Banner's labs. You don't, by any chance, know when Dr. Banner's coming back from his mission, do you?"

"Not a fan of Tony in the lab?"

Your face must've shifted more than you imagined it did. One moment, Steve's grinning at you, and the next, he's shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

"You won't tell him, will you? I don't want to bruise his ego or anything. I mean, he could use an ego deflation now and then, but he's an okay boss. I just prefer Dr. Banner. That's all."

Steve's hands came up as if to ward off any more of your words. His smile gentled once more into the one that filled your dreams at night as he said, "Your secret's safe with me. Bruce should be back by next Friday, I think. I'm not exactly sure since his mission doesn't have a strict turnaround or deadline compared to others."

"Ah, okay," you said, hoping he didn't catch a hint of your disappointment. You'd really been hoping Dr. Banner would be back by Monday morning. That way, there would be no more Tony Stark in the lab. "Thank you for letting me know though. I guess I'll, uh, see you around, Captain Rogers."

When you would've stepped towards your bike, ready to get one with your plans, Steve stepped in front of you, blocking you from it.

"Call me Steve, please," he said softly, his voice holding a hint of something you couldn't quite put your finger on. When you glanced up to meet his gaze, you found his eyes watching you with something you so wanted to be interest and maybe a little bit of hope. As if to confirm, he asked, "You going straight home? I know a diner nearby. Good food, great atmosphere. It's a good place to wind down after a stressful day."

That certainly had your attention.

All previous plans flew out of your head as you stared at Steve and saw that same expression deepen with his gaze. Even his posture shifted in a way that made you think of a puppy, hoping it would be the one chosen this time.

Now, that was the most surprising part of all.

It was well known around the Tower that Steve was ogled and drooled over every time he walks by. He could have his pick of any hundred-plus women that work within its glass-lined walls. That included you though you adamantly denied you were as bad as some.

"Are you asking me out?" you couldn't help asking. After all, you had to be sure for fear you'd make a fool of yourself.

He nodded so emphatically. "Bad idea?"

"Oh, no," you shook your head, a smile sliding back in place, "diner food sounds really good right now."

"Yeah?"

You nodded your head rather vigorously.

Steve beamed down at you before his cheeks went pink. "Okay, great, um, just let me grab my jacket and keys. Then, we'll go. Wait for me? Five minutes, tops?"

He almost made it a full stop, but you managed to stop him. Your smile widened into a full-blown grin. You even shook your head while gesturing to himself.

"You're wearing your jacket," you said softly, then pointed at the keys peeking out of his pocket, "and I believe those are your keys right there. Unless you somehow managed to lift mine, copy them, and return them without my noticing."

His cheeks darkened into a rosier color.

You couldn't help thinking how unfair the color suited him better than it ever would you.

"Sorry, guess I'm just excited you said yes," he murmured, his hue growing even darker and spreading.

Your heart, the traitor, started pounding in your chest at the sweetness of his words. It'd been a bit since anyone had shown this level of interest in you, and you found it a little daunting but also so sweet. You couldn't help but feel the butterflies kick up when his gaze met yours with an earnestness that literally stole your breath for a moment.

Before your courage could fail you, you rose on tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. Pulling back, you said, "Well, my bike is calling me to ride. Wanna grab yours and show me your diner? Maybe after, we can go on the drive I had planned for myself. I mean, if you don't have anything else to do and want to spend more time together."

"I'd really like that, but I don't want to impose on your alone time."

Oh, this man could just about kill you with his gentlemanly behavior.

"Wouldn't have offered if you'd be imposing." You allowed yourself a squeeze of his arm before stepping back and picking up your helmet. "Now, I'm starving, so let's get going. Definitely want to get out of here before Mr. Stark tries to find me and drag me back to the lab."

Steve grinned. "I'd keep you safe."

"Hm, that's good to know."

The two of you quickly donned what gear you typically wore. You with your full-body protection gear and Steve with only a helmet that you made him put on. Despite hearing his protests about the serum, you weren't having it, not when you'd gained what you hoped to be the first of many dates with him.

Your bikes roared to life within minutes, then spun out of the garage and onto the city's streets.

*****

Meanwhile…

"You didn't have to throw me under the bus like you did, Romanov," Tony groused while watching the screens in front of them. "Can't believe I didn't see your meddling sooner."

Nat smirked, her eyes never leaving the screens. "You never do, genius. Besides, my plan worked just as it was meant to. Those two were never going to make a move if we didn't help them along."

"Yeah, I guess," Tony continued to grumble, "but next time, don't make it where I almost cost Banner his assistant. He'd never forgive me, and we don't need a Hulk situation in the city."

"You know I can't promise that."

'Tony sighed, his gaze going a final time to the screens. He watched as you and Steve made your way out of the garage. A smile flitted over his features.

"It's nice to see him happy, yeah?"

Nat nodded. Her smirk transformed into an honest smile as she said, "Yeah, it is."

[h2llish]

⁀➷ ˖ declaration of friendship

notes ─── i say this is what happened. he can't escape me. i decided he was going to be my best friend.

MARCH ─ "you're my friend now."

warnings ♡ platonic (i want him to be my friend so bad), gender neutral, lowercase intended, it's short i know

perhaps it was olric that led you to make the decision to befriend march, or maybe it was his attitude, his seemingly nonchalant attitude that made you decide that, well, that just wouldn't work for you and now you had to get to know him. or maybe it was just a random decision when you introduced yourself to him and he told you that you weren't needed in mistria and to buzz off ─ just in different words.

either way, your mission, you decided, was to make him your friend, and perhaps even your best friend, and there was simply no way he could get out of it. (besides, olric did say he needed more friends, and you were willing.)

but march remains completely unaware of your decision; confused and maybe even a little annoyed when you'd search for him just to say hi before wandering off to run errands. (you're wasting both your time, he'd tell you. but you were not dissuaded.)

"why do you keep bothering me?" he had finally asked you after you had stopped by the shop once more, right as he had exited his room to begin work at the forge. he glanced at the perfect ore in your hand with poorly concealed excitement in his eyes ─ he was not as nearly as nonchalant and mysterious as he thought he was, but you won't say anything.

you stared at him, lips pursed and not at all put off by his scowl. you sighed, "well first," ─ you held up the ore for him to take, "for you." he did take it, albeit with a bit of hesitation despite how obvious his enjoyment towards your gift was (he was a decent actor, you think, but not nearly enough to trick you).

he narrowed his eyes on you, and you smiled, more sarcastic than genuine. he prodded, "answer my question."

"jeez, fine," you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, "the thing is, quite simply, you're my friend now."

"what?" ─ you don't think that's quite what he expected your answer to be.

"give it time, you'll come to embrace it as it is. our friendship." you sighed, maybe a bit dramatically, waving your hand at him lazily and glancing off to the side with a bow of your head.

"what?" he repeated, his expression now twisted into a confused scowl, rather than the scowl he wore before (the one where he wanted to appear more bothered by you), "what are you talking about?"

you stared at him again, "i told you what you wanted to know."

"that's not─ what is wrong with you?" march asked, and you almost laughed at how confused he looked.

"i have things to do, so i must get going." you ignored his question as you turned and begin your exit from the shop. "bye, bye, march! i'll stop by later!"

"don't do that."

but there was simply no stopping you, surely, he'll come to realize that eventually, perhaps when he finally accepts there was no getting rid of you ─ that you were going to be his friend regardless.

yeah i don't know guys. this is so stupid. i just want to be his friend

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through an ai