#and when I say that I mean it because I think that year alone I reread the entire series like four or five times. I remember in eighth grade

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”

[erwinsvow]

introducing... bitchy reader!

rafe never pays attention to sarah’s friends. new yet similar faces seem to make the rounds through tannyhill every week; the place was a revolving door. the occasional familiar girl would say hi to him, which would of course be ignored since he doesn’t care enough to say hi back.

so naturally, you become the exception to his little rule.

you and sarah are on opposite sides of the counter, flicking through magazines and taking sips from overpriced iced coffees, when he overhears a conversation that makes him stop and listen.

“-and he’s not like topper, like, at all. he’s really nice and actually talks to me instead of at me-”

“wow,” he hears you say, dragging out the syllables and sarcasm dripping from your voice. “such standards you have. no, really.”

“shut up. he’s totally sweet-” sarah says, but you interrupt her.

“he’s, like, totally a dirty pogue.” that catches his attention—not just the fact that there’s something going on between his sister and some pogue, but the way you say the sentence, how the words sound coming from your mouth. 

you nearly sound like rafe.

“that is so rude-”

“what? i’m just being honest. i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t tell you the truth.”

“what truth?” his sister questions.

“that you’re settling for some pogue boy because you’re bored of top. i get it. if i was dating him i’d be bored enough to fuck a pogue too.”

rafe cringes at the topic even though your word choice makes him laugh—topper is boring, though he doesn’t think he’s heard anyone else bring it up until now. he steps back into the doorway, watching the two of you. the crass words are coming from you, dressed in a sunny yellow dress and tapping pretty pink nails against the counter. 

“hey! i’m not bored-”

“you mean, you like hearing about his boat and golf every single day?”

“he has other hobbies! like-”

“like what?” you pause, watching sarah’s expression before giving her a pointed look—a look that says told you so. “who are you really trying to convince right now?” you flip through another magazine, finding something that must have caught your eye. you lift it to show sarah—some pinked striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers on the pages. “don’t i totally need this?”

“shut up.”

“that’s what someone says when they know the other person’s right,” you say with a mocking smile, setting down the magazine. he’s watching the whole thing—you’re funnier than he would have thought. “and if you change your mind just go to country club. top’s dime a dozen there.” the two of you start laughing. 

“i’m not gonna change my mind-”

“that’s what you said when you started dating topper,” you say it deadpan, and rafe holds back a laugh.

“-because he’s really nice. he’s a good guy.”

“ugh, sarah. making out with a dirty pogue at a bonfire is one thing. you’re talking like you’re in love. get a grip.”

“what? what’s so wrong with that?” sarah asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“because you can’t be in love with someone you have to hide your valuables around.” that’s when he decides to walk in—sarah sputtering on her drink while you roll your eyes.

“and what’re you girls talkin’ about?” rafe asks, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. you look at him a little confused—in all the years you’ve known sarah and times you’ve been at tannyhill, rafe’s never once spoken to you.

“i don’t think it’s any of your business-” his sister says, and then he rolls his eyes. you interrupt right away.

“sarah, it’s okay.” you turn to rafe, looking right at him and leaning in a little like you’re gonna tell in something. “it’s really not any of your business.”

blank face, trying to be annoyed but not actually feeling annoyed, he stares back at you. his sister laughs stupidly, heading into the living room. she leaves you alone with rafe in the kitchen, but as you grab your drink and try to follow sarah, rafe says something.

“y’know i heard that shit you were sayin’. you’re funny, kid.” you turn back to look at rafe.

“thanks. i wasn’t joking.”

“yeah. good. at least one of my sister’s friends has ‘er head screwed straight.” you laugh, but the look on your face says you didn’t think it was funny.

“are you trying to compliment me? by insulting all my other friends?” he wasn’t expected that retort.

“no. no, i-”

“maybe if your friend wasn’t such a shit boyfriend, sarah wouldn’t be talking to some pogue. but hey, what do i know?”

“hey, kid, i-”

“don’t call me that.” you roll your eyes, walking to the living room without even glancing back at rafe. he calls out after you again.

“so have you?” you pause, turning again.

“have i what?” “made out with some pogue at the bonfire.” he shrugs. “that’s what you said to sarah, isn’t it?”

“again, how is that any of your business?” you ask, cocking your head at him.

“that’s not an answer.”

“i don’t owe you an answer. but for the record, no, i haven’t. i actually have standards.” he doesn’t miss the remark and what it says about his sister.

“good,” rafe says, looking at you. his eyes rake over your body before he can stop it—your short hem, the jewelry dangling on your wrists and neck, the heels even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.

“shut up. weirdo.” you walk to the living room where sarah’s waiting for you.

rafe’s gonna have a hard time staying away from you.

[sunkissed-zegras]

I’m just saying…. headcannons for paige with a bestfriend to partner who’s an introvert.

And I mean those introverts who seem quiet but the moment they get comfortable around you it’s over, but like only they get to see that side.

Paige seems like an extrovert that adopts introverts, like just imagine her having to drag her partner out of their room all the time cuz they’re a damn hermit.

-🐹

─ warnings | mention of drinking, teasing, fluff, nothin' else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

honestly, you are so right in that assumption

she definitely gets closer with more introverted people, bc opposites DO really attract

when you guys first met it was your freshman year at uconn, at first you'd probably think she's WAY too much ─ maybe even cocky LOL (but who can blame her she's the best)

but when you spend more one on one time with her, you realize she's really funny and sweet

because you're so quiet, paige would be naturally drawn to you cus she gets to know you

so she just pesters you until you eventually give in and hang out with her

from that point on, the one is never seen without the other

you guys would always be together

but like... usually, you're just WITH paige so people don't really acknowledge you cus you're so quiet

but then paige would like force you to socialize

"this is y/n, i promise she's fun you just gotta put a little liquor in her-" "PAIGE."

she would push you toward her close friends the most, def like ice, azzi, nika and kk

ESPECIALLY kk!

and then you eventually would get really close with them, you all have your cute little friend group

you and ice would make fun of paige and kk together, you and azzi are kinda similar so you find yourself hanging out with her alone a lot more, and nika would force you out your shell a lot too

after a couple months of being friends, paige would definitely find herself catching feels

like i've said in my other headcanons, she just thinks you're such a big source of comfort for her and it slowly just becomes full-on adoration cus

she adores you

and you compliment her personality so well she is just like "i NEED to have her right now"

she ends up confessing one night after a really terrible game and then y'all kiss ...

and the rest is history 🤗🤗🤗

jk here's some relationship headcanons

again, you are so right nonnie

like i mentioned, one is never seen without the other

so you're always tied at the hip, especially at parties

at first she has to force you

like FULL force

she calls backup ofc ice and kk come and then its 3 vs 1

they end up winning

and this happens time and time again, you just get so worn down you'd rather just endure the damn party then listen to all three of them scream at you

which was the goal 🥰

and you're definitely the sober one 95% of the time so you will be taking care of a very drunk paige

(maybe some separate headcanons for her if yall want)

and sometimes even ice/kk but it's mostly just your girlfriend

anyway, yeah you take her home, take of her and then get her into bed

and when you try to leave she will be so dramatic, she forces you to stay with her

you don't mind cus you love cuddly paige

but the 5% when you're the one who's blackout drunk, paige is gonna take such good care of you

because you're so introverted when you're sober, you're probably gonna be such a rowdy drunk

yes im her shes me

so paige makes sure you don't get into trouble and gets you home safe and sound

but if you do something stupid, she will never ever let you live it down

"remember that time you jumped into the pool and-" "SHUT THE FUCK UP"

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[sturnphilia]

𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (rewritten og sturnphilia fic)

𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶 𝑿 𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑶𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑻!𝑭𝑬𝑴 𝑶𝑪

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒; pet names, non established relationship, highschool au, fingering, praising, soft sex elements if you squint

Lily grew up a very sheltered kid. Her parents tried to keep her away from a lot of stuff. Her parents kept her home school all the way up until senior year. Her parents made the decision to let her finally go to public school for her very last year of high school to have a somewhat high school experience. Due to her being sheltered she was also extremely shy. She didn’t really have any intentions on making friends or being social in public school. But of course she did end up befriending one boy. Matt Sturniolo. One of the only other (non weird..) shy kid in her grade. Her science teacher made the bright decision to pair them up for the beginning year project and now at the end of senior year they have been close ever since.

They were each other's person. Obviously, Matt wasn’t as innocent like Lily. They had a lot in common but he definitely wasn’t anywhere as near as sheltered as she was.

Today they were at Lily’s house watching a movie. A Friday tradition they had been doing ever since they first became friends. They would go to each other's house every friday and have a movie night. Each week they’d take turns picking a new movie to watch. Majority of the time they went to Lily’s house since Lily’s parents always worked a late shift and when they went over to Matt’s his triplet brothers would find a way to annoy them.

They decided on watching some movie Matt wanted to watch. A movie Lily had already forgotten the name of.

Neither of them had seen this movie yet so the next scene shocked them both.

A sex scene with the two main characters was plastered on the 40 inch screen. Matt was a lot more calm because he was used to it. A sex scene in a movie was normal for him. But Lily was a blushing mess. Of course, Lily knew what sex was. She was innocent but wasn't stupid. But, she had never thought of anything sexual before let alone watched porn or any sex scenes like this. So this was very new to her to say the least.

It made her face heat up, her heart beat. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling a weird yet tingling feeling. Lily had never felt this way before. She was extremely confused, scared, and a bit excited at this new feeling.

Obviously since she had no idea what was going on with her or her body she tried hiding her movements and body language from Matt.

All of a sudden the scene began to get more intense. The main characters going at it a lot rougher now.

Lily was trying to hide it but it was getting really hard. She felt her panties begin to get wet. Anxiety filling her body. What is happening to me? Is all she could think. Continuing to squeeze her thighs even more a small whimper leaving her lips.

Matt began to notice Lily's actions. He looked over at Lily confused, "You alright?" he asked her. The room was dim, he could see her bright red cheeks, her shocked face, her body movements. "I-i..uhm." she couldn't form a word. she didn't know what to say. Her breath was shaky,

Matt started to get the hint. The hint that she was .. turned on?

He chuckled at her. "God I didn't know you got turned on by this stuff." he confronted with a scoff. "WWhat are you talking about?" Lily stuttered. Matts eyes went wide. "Do you even know what that means?" he asked the girl. She nodded her head no.

Matt's eyes go even wider. "Shit… I knew you were, like, innocent and all but i didn't know you were that innocent." Lily’s face began to get more red. She was so embarrassed. She felt so disgusted in herself. "i'm sorry.." she apologized. Looking down at her shaky legs, embarrassed to look Matt in the eyes.

Matt started to feel bad. He didn’t mean to embarrass her. "Why are you apologizing?" he asked her. She looked back up at him, "there's something wrong with me, isn't there?" She had pure innocence in her brown eyes.

Matt looked at her with a sympathetic smile, "No baby, nothing wrong with you, that's normal." he assured her. She began to smile at the little pet name he gave her. "Well then how do i... uhm.. fix it?" she asked him. "Fix what?" "This fuzzy feeling inside me?"

Matt’s face was covered in blush. "Uhm, have you ever, like, gotten off?" he asked. His face is heating up every second. The silence never felt so loud in these walls. She nodded her head no. "Oh well u-uh. I mean I could help you but like I don't wanna make this weird.." he suggested to her. She rested her hand on his. "I promise it won’t, just help me Matt, whatever you have to do."

Matt placed his hands on the rim of her mini skirt. "May I take this off?" he began suddenly. she nodded. He took her little white skirt off, placing it on the ground. "Here lay back." he told her, motioning her to lay on her back. She cooperated, leaning back. "M-may i take this off as well?" he asked shyly, mentioning her pink underwear. "Mmhm." she allowed him. He took her panties off slowly. Revealing all of her. He laid her panties with her skirt on the ground.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked her one more time. Making sure he wasn’t pressuring her into anything. She rolled her eyes. "Yes Matt, just please- do anything." she breathed out- beginning to get more sassier. Matt took his slim fingers and placed them onto her core. His cold fingers making her shiver a bit.

He began to slide his fingers up and down pink slits. She bit her lips, not wanting to make a sound.

"Does this feel nice princess?" he asked her. "Y-Yea." she moaned out. He then slipped one finger inside her, making her gasp a little. "Want me to keep going?" she looked down at him and nodded. He then slipped a second finger in, making her whimper under him. He began to thrust his slim fingers inside her. 

She soo became a moaning mess. "Mmgh matty feels so so good." she praised him. He smirked, going faster. Secretly slipping in a third finger. She yelped. Matt was going at an extremely fast pace, making the girl under him a mess. Her eyes were rolled back and she was holding onto the couch. Soon later her white cum coded Matt’s fingers, making her scream one last time. Her fingers gripping the couch and making her knuckles go pale."F-fuck.." she said under her breath. She looked down at Matt, seeing the mess she made. "Og my god i'm so sorry-" as she began to apologize.

Matt took his tongue and swiped it across her slits, making her shiver. "Why apologize, you taste so good?" he took his fingers out of her and placed them on her lips. "Taste." he said in a low raspy voice. She took his fingers and licked them clean.

-

TAGLIST (ask to be added or unadded!!) : @sturnioloshacker @e1ias3 @gwenlore @iloveneilperry

[kimberly-spirits13]

Break Ups and Make Ups

Jason Todd x reader

Synopsis: Jason breaks up with you to keep you safe only to get saved by you a few weeks later.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, Jason being angsty

Word Count: 3233

Jason couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in a bed that felt too large and dreamed of futures he lost from his grasp. Every night was the same. He’d spend his energy patrolling to forget you, drag himself through his apartment, and then come to the realization that he was entirely alone the second the AC hit in the face. What made him even angrier was that it wasn’t even your fault, not entirely at least. To Jason, you were the epitome of perfection and had done nothing wrong. You were meant to be protected at all costs and Jason was sure that he could never protect you when you were with him. Every body he saw, every victim of Gotham he encountered had your face. Maybe it was a fragment of his delusion that caused him to worry so intensely, but to him, it came out of a place of real possibility. 

That’s why he broke it off with you when things started getting serious. All he really remembers from that day was you screaming something he doesn’t remember (or tries to forget) at him and telling him to leave. It was the worst day of his life, and he would have died a thousand times over again to avoid it ever happening. He’d never seen you so upset before and hated that it was because of him. Every night, this was what he saw before he fell asleep, and once sleep had finally taken over there was no rest from his regret. He’d dream of all the futures you could have had together, bringing newborns home from the hospital, you, walking down the aisle with tears flowing from everyone’s eyes, and the endless possibilities of bliss that he threw away that night. 

                  That was what was keeping Jason up last night. He was exhausted, struggling to stay awake as the cycle of regret repeated every time he shut his eyes. 

                  “You alright Jaybird?” Dick asked, standing in the mirror adjusting his tie.

                  “Fine.” Jason gruffed in response.

                  Jason was sitting in one of the many armchairs in the manor staring at the window, brooding. Usually, he’d hear your laughter with the girls from down the hallway, joking about whatever appealed to them at the time. Tonight was different and all he heard were the voices of his sisters, sometimes bringing you up, lamenting the loss of your presence. 

                  “Do you think she’ll show up eventually?” Steph asked, “I mean she kind of has to for press.”

                  “I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t” Jason heard Barbra reply, causing him to cringe.

                  He was in the wrong for breaking it off with you. Jason saw that now, regretting the pride that came in with thinking it was only up to him to keep you safe, or that you couldn’t play some part in it. To your credit, you’d survived Gotham for so many years before meeting him, even as a socialite. Why did he think it would be any different? 

                  “You know, it would be worth just talking to her.” Dick said, “If that’s what you’re brooding over. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s what you’re brooding over.” Dick said.

                  “It’s none of your business.” 

                  “Yea, not really, but you’re acting like you’ve been tossing up the idea of swan diving off Gotham Bridge.” Dick chided, “So maybe you should talk to her. Sounds like she didn’t want to break up anyways, so you’d probably have a chance.”

                  “She’d kill me.” Jason replied coldly.

                  Dick didn’t say anything in response, but Jason knew what he was thinking, “Yeah, and right now, you’d deserve it.” 

                  When the car pulled up to the carpet at the front of the gala, it was all Jason could do to not sink and melt into the floor. There would be plenty of questions from reporters asking where you were. It had been three weeks since he dumped you and the internet had been stirring. 

                  “Just walk past them.” Dick said, “And don’t beat anyone”

                  “No promises.” Jason answered, stepping out of the car, and giving his hand to Cassandra to help her out.

                  Cass nodded at him giving him enough signal of, “I’ll walk with you.” 

                  Reporters and fans shouted at the family. Jason wished that anyone else was the center of attention, but instead all the questions were centered around his relationship with you. 

                  “Where’s Y/N?” 

                  “Are you and Y/N still dating?”

                  “Why haven’t we seen you together?”                   Bruce managed to shove in front of Vikki Vale to protect Jason from her invasive questions and everyone else made their way inside. The lights of the flashing cameras faded through the crowd inside the gala. Jason felt like all eyes were on him. It was one of the first times that he felt like hiding in a corner, wrapped up in a ball at one of these events. Women with hair overdone and plunging V-neck dresses approached him, assuming that he was no longer off the table. It’s not like they cared when we still dating you whether it was appropriate to hit on him. 

                  If you were here, you two would be making fun of everyone here acting like they were on top of the world instead of the true trash of Gotham, but you weren’t, and now he was awkwardly standing next to Dick ignoring the conversation he was engaged in. Jason was pretty sure they were talking about something related to Wayne Enterprises, but he focused on the bitter cold at his side where you were meant to be on his arm. You’d be making some comment about an increase in recent sales for some company WE were working with, and he’d be staring at you wondering how he got so lucky. Now he stares at the floor wondering how he got so stupid.

                  “Dude, you look like a dog that just got its favorite toy taken.” Dick said once the person he was talking to left.

                  Jason left out a gruff in response. He didn’t have a response to that. Instead, Jason was counting down the minutes until he could leave and go crash in his apartment, though, he wasn’t sure that would be any better. Twirling a toothpick from some fancy snack he just endured, he thought about what he’d do if he tried to make it up with you.

                  “Seriously, go home, take a shower, and call her.” Dick urged, “We all know she liked you; you’re just going to have to explain a few things.”

                  “She probably hates me.” Jason answered, running his hand across his face, “I can’t blame her though.”

                  “Maybe she hates you, but maybe she’s just waiting for you to get your head out of your butt.”

                  Before Jason could respond to that, he heard glass shattering in the building and gun shots echoing. He looked towards Bruce, trying to gage whether they would spring into action. Bruce was busy ushering guests out of the building and not paying too much attention to where everyone else was. Dick and Jason ducked for cover, trying to see where the shots were being fired from. As they scanned the room, they saw a dark gas creeping towards the table where they were situated and there was nowhere to run.

                  “Tim’s still on the mission with his team.” Dick said

                  “Can’t blow our cover.” Jason responded, “Isn’t there that new vigilante running around town that Bruce has been trying to pretend he isn’t working with?”

                  “And you think that will help?” Dick snorted,

                  “You’re right. We’re screwed.” 

                  You were currently speeding through the streets of Gotham, riding at full speed towards the hotel where the gala was tonight. Bruce had asked you to avoid it since all the others were on a mission or at the gala. It was a precaution he had in place just in case something happened. You were still bitter about what happened with Jason. He was an idiot. Jason thought you had no idea of his persona as Red Hood. He had no idea that you were the recent vigilante in Gotham, Batman took in for your skills. Here you thought Jason would be a better detective. 

                  Flying towards the police lights, you pulled your bike near Gordon’s patrol car and jumped off, helmet in hand. 

                  “What do you have?” You asked.

                  “We’re waiting for Batman.” Gordon replied, “Hostages have been released other than the Waynes.”                   “Batman’s not coming.” You countered, “He’s on a mission with the League.”

                  “He never told me about that.” 

                  “You think he’d tell you about a classified mission with the League?” You lied, “I’m all you have, so get over it.” 

                  “You really are with the Bat.” Gordon sighed, “Bane sent his men to capture the Waynes and is demanding a ransom of $1 billion.”

                  “He does realize that most of that is kept in separate investments, right?” You mumbled.

                  “Apparently he doesn’t” “He’s got them in an east river warehouse and will begin executions at 12am. First one to go is Jason Todd.” 

                  You looked at the time blaring on his phone, beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead, “Two hours.” 

                  “Surely he doesn’t think we could retrieve $1 billion in two hours.” Gordon responded.

                  “I don’t care what he thinks as long as you convince him that the money is coming.” You said, “I’ll recover the Waynes.” “Keep him ignorant, it’s our best option.” 

                  The drive felt like hours even though it was thirty minutes through the traffic. All the while you were thinking about what Gordon said, “First to go is Jason Todd.” You were still upset with him, but that didn’t negate the fac that you loved him. Jason breaking it off with you felt like someone tore your soul out of you. You were pretty sure once you explained everything to him, he’d understand, but you didn’t have the energy to track him down and convince him to listen to you. Serving around a slower driver, you sped onto the side road that led straight into the warehouses. Bane has a usual point of operation here that you were sure he was staking out in. He wasn’t the most intelligent guy on the block, but it was too risky for the special ops team to come flying into the building with such a threat. 

                  You haphazardly parked your bike and sprinted towards the warehouse you knew they’d be in. The comm in your ear began buzzing and you clicked the button to turn on the feed. 

                  “He’s about to start executing.” Gordon said.

                  “What? There’s still an hour and a half left?” You whisper yelled, “Did your men screw it up?” 

                  “Haven’t found out yet, Bane has demanded that the time be dropped.” “Are you in there?”

                  “Almost, how much time do I have?” 

                  “Fifteen minutes.” Gordon replied. 

                  “When I knock him out, I expect that you put him in the most uncomfortable cell in Black Gate.” 

                  “Without a second thought.” Gordon said, confidence lacing his voice.

                  There were 10 guards outside the warehouse heavily armed. Bane must have been juiced up which meant he was more confident in not needing security, just someone to collect the money and bring it inside. If you were on your own, you’d probably kill them all and let GCPD handle it, but you were in Batman’s turf and had to respect his bounds. Instead, you opted to tranquilize them and leave the clean-up to GCPD to save time.

                  “I’ve got 10 unconscious out front, make sure they’re in cars before they wake up.” You said, “Don’t come in with sirens and lights on.” “I’m going in”

                  “Understood.” Gordon responded quickly. 

                  Going to the roof, you looked a window down to see Bane dragging Jason with a bag over his head, to the front of a room where a camera was. There was one other man with a mask on holding a rifle pointed to where Jason was now kneeling. He ripped the bag off Jason’s head to show reveal him with a busted lip and a fresh bruise appearing on his jaw. He must have said something that rubbed one of the recruits the wrong way. Your heart began to race as you watched in horror. With your boot, you kicked the glass once and watched as the shards fell to the ground. From below, Jason heard the crashing of the glass and didn’t look up in case it was falling on him. A loud pop echoed through the building and the sound of metal hitting the floor sounded in his ears. Another shot was fired and after a few seconds, the man standing behind him stumbled backwards and finally fell. 

                  With the immediate threat to Jason neutralized, you jumped down, landing on Bane’s shoulders. 

                  “You picked the wrong day Bane. I’m not in the mood” you said.

                  “I’ll kill you all!” He screamed, reaching his arms around his back, trying to grab you off him. 

                  “Is that the most intelligent thing you can think of right now, big guy?” You laughed.    

                  Reaching into your utility belt, you pulled out a large knife and positioned to cut into the tubes that pumped his venom. Before you could do that, Bane reached around and grabbed your leg. With a grunt you were thrown to the ground but recovered quickly. Jumping back up, you ran towards him, launching yourself in the air to kick his jaw. A tooth flew past you and blood began to run out of his mouth. These were the moments you were grateful for steel-toed boots. Bane stumbled for a moment before regaining his strength and barreling towards you. You ran back from him, giving yourself space and leading him to a place where you could get back on top of him. He started reaching his arms back again causing you to glide your knife over his arm. Blood was drawn again, and he recoiled in pain. Taking this opportunity, you ran the knife through the pipes, venom spewing out everywhere. He fell back right as you flung yourself off him and out of his reach. Quickly, his muscles started constricting and falling back into their regular form. It was a disgusting sight to and you found yourself grimacing at the sight. 

                  In the commotion of it all, you weren’t aware that the camera had knocked over. Bruce and Dick were still sitting patiently, waiting for you to uncuff them. 

                  “Target neutralized, I’ll bring out the Waynes and Bane.” You said into the comm.

                  “Got it, ETA five minutes.” Gordon answered 

                  You grabbed the keys that were hanging on the wall next to where Bane had been standing and began to uncuff Bruce and Dick. 

                  “You always manage to get yourself into trouble, don’t you?” You asked, a smirk evident in your voice despite your mask.

                  “You know it.” Dick said.

                  “Thanks for the rescue.” Bruce stood up as you helped Dick off the floor, “We can drag Bane out. It seems you’ve got some explaining to do.” 

                  Jason was sitting and staring at the wall, contemplating his life. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but you could bet it was something about being glad he broke it off with you after something like this happening. You watched for a minute as Bruce and Dick dragged Bane out of the room, giving you two a moment.

                  “Jason.” You said, trying to get him to turn around.

                  “You gonna uncuff me?” He asked.

                  “I was getting there.” You knelt behind him and unlocked the cuff.

                  The clank of metal quietly rang out. An awkward silence fell, and you weren’t sure what to do so instead you started assessing injuries. You moved to kneel in front of him and examined his lip and the bruise that was getting darker by the second.

                  “Anything feel broken?” you asked.

                  “No.” He moved away from your touch, something that hurt your heart, “Who even are you? Batman’s new recruit?” 

                  “Jason- do you?” You huffed and began to pull off your mask, “You’re an idiot.” 

                  Once you had your mask off, he started at you, lost for words. So many emotions ran through his eyes, confusion and then realization being the two most prominent ones.

                  “Y/N?” He asked bewildered, “How did you keep this from me?”

                  “I figured you knew, Red Hood.” You said, tucking your mask under your arm.

                  “You knew about that?” 

                  “You’re not very inconspicuous about it, Jason.” You laughed, “I mean every time patrol ended, Red Hood would head in the direction of your apartment and then you’d drop by thirty minutes later after taken a shower and typically with some sort of wound dressing. Plus, it helps that I went to the cave a few times.”                   “Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked, hurt lingering in his voice.

                  “I realized you probably didn’t know anything about it and planned to talk to you about it but you kind of dumped me before I got the chance.” Your smile faded and was instead replaced with a stoic look. Jason knew you were upset, “What do you think I was yelling at you for?” 

                  “I thought you were just yelling because you were mad.” He answered, shame now replacing his look of hurt.

                  “Yeah, I’m pissed with you. I feel like you thought I can’t handle myself, even if you didn’t mean to come across that way. I was trying to get you to stop so we could talk about it. You were bound to get in and get out.” Tears began swelling in your eyes and you quickly wiped them away. 

                  “Y/N I’m so sorry.” He said.

                  “Yea, so am I.” Your head hung low for a second before you picked yourself back up, not wanting to break down in front of Jason right now.

                  “No, it’s not your fault.” Jason grabbed your hands, “This has been the worst few weeks of my entire life. I can’t live without you. Day and night, you’re the only thing I think of. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t do anything right now. I’d rather die a thousand times over than not have you.” 

                  At this point you started crying and Jason grabbed you, pulling you into his chest. You cried into his suit that was already ruined by the dirt and tears from tonight. He was crying to, no matter how much he didn’t want to be.

                  “I’m so, so sorry Y/N. I never meant to hurt you. I just thought this was best for you. I didn’t want you ending up hurt or dead or- I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”                   “Jason” You laughed through tears, “I’m a Gotham CEO, I was already unsafe by myself.” 

                  “I didn’t think about that.” He said, making you laugh more. 

                  “Do you think you’d have me back?” Jason asked, a now solemn look coming across his face.

                  “Yes, absolutely.” 

                  Jason pulled you into a kiss that felt like it lasted forever and once it was over, he rested his head in the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply.

                  “I missed you so much.” He said. 

                  “I did too.” 

                  Jason’s family was going to be ecstatic about this. They probably weren’t going to let him live down you realizing he was Red Hood before he realized you were a vigilante.

[gojossocks]

Ex to FWB! Gojo

Ex to FWB! Gojo x Reader content: angst, hurt/comfort, smut

I LOVE A YEARNING SATORU SO MUCH

Ex to FWB! Gojo who broke up with you out of the blue after a 3 year relationship with you without ever telling you why. He just told you that he lost the spark and he simply grew out of the relationship. He didn’t bother coming to get his things and just disappeared out of your life completely. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who you saw after a year of no contact in a house party. He’s still as handsome as ever and he went over to you as if you didn’t go through a shitty break up. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who had this elaborate plan to win you back but only let out a shaky sigh when he’s face to face with you. He misses you, he realizes— so much so that he feels as though he would combust if he doesn’t hold you right now and he wonders how he could endure an entire year without being by your side, without meaning something to you other than the jerk who broke your heart. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo got desperate when you seem to be uninterested with whatever he has to say so he asked you to be fwb with him instead. 

“use me, then.” His words sounded so weirdly nonchalant but you could see the desperation in his eyes as he looked at you with so much intensity. 

and how could you resist him when he’s practically right where you imagine him to be? pleading so much that you’re sure that he’ll beg on his knees if you asked him to. So for your own self-satisfaction you said yes, and his face beamed so bright that it reminded you of the complex history you had with him you desperately try to unrecall. 

So you laid out the rules, He’s not allowed to kiss you during sex, hold you afterwards, or even make a genuine connection during the time you’re hooking up, then lastly, both of you are allowed to date whoever and the arrangement wouldn’t continue anymore if any.

He scoffed when you told him the rules but you noticed the way he looked so nervous under the flashing lights.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who kisses you like he needs you to breathe, slipping his tongue when your mouth slightly parted, groaning when he finally gets to taste you. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo died and almost went to heaven (cum in his pants)  when you breathily whispered his name—”Satoru”,  for the first time since he broke up with you. He had to teleport the both of you to his bedroom before he rips your dress off for everyone to see. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo holds your hand while he’s fucking you, the other wandering your body until it reaches your clit, drawing fast  harsh circles until it has you writhing underneath him. He remembers your body too well, even more than you do. He buries his face in the crook of your neck to prevent himself from kissing you. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, pounding into you harshly that you couldn’t even think anymore. He got you so cockdrunk that the only word you remember is his name. It doesn’t even register to you when the bed frame breaks.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who desperately wants to kiss you but bites your neck instead when he cums deep inside you. He doesn’t stop thrusting even when you’ve both already came because he wanted a few more minutes to cage you in his arms because it’s the only time he only gets to do it. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo felt disappointed when you left after the two of you fucked. He feels a hole punctured in his chest after you left him alone in his own apartment, he didn’t get to sleep that night. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo getting frustrated when you’re adamant to follow the rules you made after 2 months of fucking. Each time he tries to make his actions genuine, you ask him to go faster and be rougher with you. He thought that little ‘act’ of yours is just a front to make him win you back but he soon realizes that you were being serious and you’re really only using him for your own sexual pleasure— all because he’s good in bed and he knows your body well. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo fakes his sleep to see what you’re going to do with him—if you’re going to run your hands through his hair, caress his cheek, kiss his forehead or speak to him when you think he’s asleep. Those little things that he took for granted during the course of your relationship that he misses so much. Instead, you get dressed and leave. The hole in his chest expanded tenfold after that. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who ‘coincidentally’  shows up near your apartment or the place where you work, claiming that he just happened to hang near where you’re at. He attempts to talk to you only to be met by subtle rejections and your fake excuses to go somewhere else. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who finally realizes the damage he has done with your relationship and how good he had it with you. He regrets not talking things out with you and leaving you without explaining the truth, that really, he’s just scared that he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he loses you because of the nature of his work or you realize that you deserve someone better than him.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who misses it when you used to look at him with soft, loving eyes. Not the one driven out of primal need and lust you always give him before the two of you fuck. He loves the scratches you give down his back, he thinks it’s a tangible proof that he still somehow has a hold on you and you’re still not completely out of his life, at least not yet.  He wishes he could just show you how much he’s in love with you still— if only you’d let him. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who jokes about you staying the night, coaxing you to agree with him to just sleep in his place because your apartment is far away, you’re tired, and you have work tomorrow. Not because he wants more of you. (his whole being is shaking with need) 

Ex to FWB! Gojo yearns for you so much that he couldn’t hide his despondent face anymore when you rejected his attempt to ask you out to stay over for the third time.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who heard from your mutual best friend, Shoko,  that you’re going on a blind date next week and that you’re planning to break up the arrangement that week too. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who wishes you would give him a chance to explain everything, to win you back and allow him in your life again.

[sailor-aviator]

Hey.

Go ahead and get settled because this will be...long, in true Liz fashion.

So, by now I'm sure most of you have heard what's happened. If not, you can search this blog for some answers or others for more.

I joined this fandom offiicially at the end of September after being a long time lurker. I had just lost my job and times were uncertain for me. I felt inspired to write, and as someone whose formative years were shaped by the fandom experience, I wanted to feel that sense of belonging again - to feel like a part of a community. I've talked about it on here before, but I started my fandom days in the original Hunger Games fandom when the first movie had just come out, and then I shifted gears towards the SuperWhoLock fandom. If you know anything about SuperWhoLock, then you know you had to have pretty tough fucking skin to be a part of any of it.

Of course, this was back in the day when fandom was an actual community and not authors having to beg for scraps of engagement and people thinking its a numbers game. I was a fairly large blog within the SuperWhoLock community (Waywardly-Carrying-On was the username), but I left fandom for a few years because life got hectic and I felt like I had outgrown the fandom itself as I was no longer watching any of the shows. As the years went on, I started to yearn for the fandom experience again, which is how I found myself dipping toes into several different ones.

I was so excited to publish my first fanfic. I had convinced myself that I wasn't a good writer (much to the chagrin of my irl friends), and I had put a pause on writing my original story. I wanted to write this idea about a cowboy and a girl using characters that I had grown to love like I did way back in my older days. So, I started posting, and I was so excited for the story, that I kept posting almost daily. MamaMay was one of the first people to embrace not only my story, but me as a person into the fandom. She made me feel welcomed and wanted.

Pretty much right off the bat I was already getting anons telling me that I was being too much and that I needed to calm down with all the posting. I was confused because...this is Tumblr. It's literally a blogging website? Why wouldn't I post? I decided to ignore the mean words (not before giving my opinion, of course) and kept on doing my thing. Well, the anons got continually worse and worse. I had a suspiscion as to who the anons could be, but I never had concrete proof. So, I experimented with blocking suspects until finally it worked. I'm not naming names because that's not my style, so don't even bother asking.

The fact of the matter is, some of you have entered fandom spaces for the first time, and you don't know how to act. You don't care to learn fandom etiquette as you've made abundantly clear by calling fandom olds every name under the sun while utilizing the anonymous feature. Newsflash, you're part of the problem. You're the reason why authors don't want to publish anymore. You are the reason that something that's supposed to be fun is starting to feel like a goddamn chore.

How many times can authors on here say that we aren't machines? We have lives outside of this website: family, friends, jobs, school, etc. Some of you really are just hellbent on making everyone around you miserable, and it's sad. You can't just leave well enough alone and let people enjoy something, no you feel like everyone has to enjoy it the same way as you.

Some of you go after authors on here because of some weird sense of jealousy too. I don't know why my shit blew up, babe, I really don't. But I started out with no followers and no support just like everyone else. I'll tell you what helped me though: following fandom etiquette and reaching out to other creators to build an actual community. None of this "I've reblogged three of your things and now I'm messaging you so that you return the favor." No, I reached out to make actual friendships which is what fandom is SUPPOSED to be. If someone was clearly not interested, it was fine!! I backed off and kept doing my own thing.

Some of you think being mean on the internet makes you big and bad. Guess what! It doesn't! It's loser mentality and I feel genuinely sorry for you. I'm sorry that people in your own life made you feel so small as to feel like you had to lash out at strangers on the internet who are just trying to have fun.

Anyway, this is my really long way of saying that I am taking a break for a little bit. I have no idea how long it will be - could be the weekend, could be a couple of weeks, could be forever. I need time to decide if this is something I want to keep persuing. If I come back, I don't know if I will remain a TGM blog or if I'll shift gears and hop into another fandom with a rebrand. Guess we'll just have to see.

To the people on here who have been a constant source of joy, laughter, and support: thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your presence has meant everything to me, and I hope that my break sees me wanting to come back and giggle about the silly plane movie with you all again.

Nothing but love,

Liz 💛

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fifteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.5K (I got carried away again)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Crying,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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

Present Day *Reader POV*

The shopping bags that hung from your arms would have been heavy for the average person, but for you it seemed like a bag full of pillows. It was the day after you saw Rosemary and said goodbye. Despite the almost excruciating hangover you had this morning, because it'd been almost forty years since you last had a drink, you dragged yourself to the mall to try and find outfits for your trip to Russia. You were satisfied with the few outfits you found, but you were worried because the plane left in a few hours and you were no where near ready.

Mentally or physically.

As much as you wanted to go help Ben, you still were apprehensive about the whole situation, not just about going in blind, but wondering what the hell you were going to do when you saw Ben. You wanted to hold on to your anger, but you were afraid that the moment you looked into his green eyes you would forgive him.

I am not going to forgive him. I'm going to break him out then tell him to fuck off and I never have to see him ever again.

Despite your apprehension, you knew that you had to do this, that you had to go help him even if you still hated him because you couldn't bear the thought of the boy you grew up with being tortured over there all alone. It was the alone part that hurt the most. You knew how much Ben hated being alone. He never had to say it out loud, but all the time you'd spent together in your bedroom before and after the injection spoke volumes.

Of course you still had no idea where you were going, but figured that if you went to the Kremlin you could get some answers, which meant you'd either have to lie your way in or just kill anyone in your path. Which would be messy, but necessary. You try to shake off the guilt of exposing yourself again and what that could mean for Rosemary and Lou. You made sure that Rosemary knew to pack a bag for herself and for Lou and told her to wait for your call.

You wanted to be there to escort them out of the city, didn't want to split up and have them get snagged while you were waiting for them at the rendezvous point, so you told Rosemary to take a few days off and lay low.

When you get to the outside door of your apartment building toting the bags, you notice that it's been broken, as if someone tried to pull it off its hinges.

Well that's great. Hopefully the building manager noticed that.

Your mind drifts back to Ben as you step into the elevator.

What if he isn't alive when I get there? It was an unwelcome thought, but it meant that you wouldn't have to talk to him.

 Maybe if I knock him out when I get there and just leave him in a Russian motel somewhere, I won't have to talk to him. You pause. Will he want to talk to me? 

The memory of the last time you spoke flashes through your mind bringing an unmeasurable amount of rage and heartbreak back over your body. The dam you built to keep out everything that happened was reaching capacity, especially given the recent events with Countess, and you knew that the moment you saw Ben it was going to burst open. You hoped that you'd be able to keep it together long enough to get out of the lab or wherever the hell he was being held, before you lost it. But it was doubtful.

As you walk down the hallway to you apartment, you notice that your front door is open and you stop walking. Apprehension spikes at the back of your mind as you examine the door. The lock is broken and  door is cracked just enough for you to hear people talking inside in hushed tones. You creep forward and look through the crack.

You've got to be kidding me. You groan to yourself noticing Butcher and Hughie standing in your living room.

Great. Just what I need. Right when I'm going to leave they show up. Guess that explains the mystery of the broken door downstairs.

You think about walking away, of going back down the elevator and hoping that by the time you come back they would be gone, but you knew you had to face them and you still had to pack. So you push open the front door of your apartment and step into the room.

"You know when I called saying that I had something else to say about Soldier Boy, I assumed you would call, not break into my apartment." You sigh before moving to the right side of the counter that divides the room between the living room and the kitchen and depositing the shopping bags on the stainless steel top.

"Maybe you shouldn’t leave your apartment unlocked poppet. Anyone could walk in." Butcher replies with a grin.

"Hmm. Sure. You guys here for more coffee?"

"Go shopping did you?" Butcher ignores your snark eyeing the bags.

"Yeah I needed a few new outfits for my art show next month." The lie is easy, but you know that the sudden appearance of the two of them probably meant you were caught red handed. Of course now with everything that happened with Countess, you didn't care anymore if Butcher and Hughie knew who you really were. "You doing okay there Hughie?" You raise an eyebrow as you notice how his heartbeat has spiked since you entered the apartment.

"Good." He says, but he looks uneasy.

Well, guess he's afraid of me now.

"Huh. And here I thought you were replacing your jacket." Butcher throws your ruined jacket onto the floor between you.

You look from the jacket to Butcher. You hadn't bought a replacement and hadn't wanted to throw it out. You were still hoping that the scorch marks looked like you had "distressed" it. It didn't and you knew that, but you loved that coat so much.

"See, I think it’s a big coincidence that Countess got right fucked after we came and talked to you." Butcher smiles.

"Probably the same coincidence as Gunpowder dying before you showed up here the first time." You breeze with a tight-lipped smile.

Where was he going with this? Was he here to kill me? You think about what Legend said about Butcher killing supes.

"That looks bad." Butcher gestures to the jacket. "You have a little spat with your good friend?”

"Let's just say she said a few things that upset me." Your eyes skate from Butcher to Hughie sizing them up. "If you're here to kill me, you're welcome to try. Oh sorry,  'arrest me'." You make air quotes around the words. "But we both know you're not government agents, you reek of Compound V and the last time I checked there was that whole, no supes in the government thing."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to get this out of the way the first time?" Hughie asks.

"I didn't want to be involved." You shrug your shoulders.

"Then why you'd buy a plane ticket to Russia?" Butcher takes a step towards you, but you hold your ground.

You weren't afraid of him.

"I hear it's nice this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Very pleasant." You snap back at him eyes narrowed, before you look down at the antique watch on your wrist. "Look I'd love to have a heart to heart, but I just don't have time to do this little dance with you. So we can either get to the part where you try to kill me or-" You raise your gaze from the watch to glare back at Butcher, but then your eyes focus on the hallway behind him and your heart stops.

Ben is standing there in the shadows looking at you the same way he always has, with those wonderful piercing green eyes that makes all other memories of them be put to shame. He's dressed in modern clothes, wearing a dark green shirt that hugs his perfect muscular chest and is the same color of his suit, your favorite color and the one you can never look at without thinking of him because damn it, it's also the color of his eyes. He looks the same, but different. His hair is longer and darker than it was the last time you saw him and his cheeks are covered by a trimmed but thick beard. It was unusual given that you'd never seen him with more than just a little bit of stubble and annoying because it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, but despite the piercing way his eyes follow you, you can see a haunting memory of the last forty years.

You're upset that the one of the first thoughts you'd had beside staring at him open mouthed is that you wished you were wearing something more flattering than one of your pairs of paint splattered overalls over an old band t-shirt. You were going to Russia to get him and yes maybe you were shopping for things that you could move in, but you had picked out a particular revenge outfit that you believed would make Ben regret everything he did to you and also might have been paired with a particularly badass set of boots that made your legs look very long. The outfit that made you feel beautiful and sexy was unlike the one you were wearing at the moment. Also because you hadn't brushed your hair today and had just stuck it up in a messy bun at the back of your head.

You're struck with the urge to run to him and kill him at the same time, but you can't move and you can’t think.

Apart of you believed that you would find him dead in Russia, a sad thought but it meant that you wouldn't have to relive everything all over again. Everything that went to shit the last 24 hours you spent together that you relived with Countess the other day and now you were reliving when you looked at him standing there looking better than he should.

Because damn it, only Ben could be tortured in a lab for the past 40 years and walk away looking like a GQ model. I've never hated anyone more.

"Ben?" Your voice is no more than a hoarse whisper.

Ben pushes past Hughie and Butcher, taking careful steps towards you like he doesn't want to scare you away. "Y/n." The sound of your name on his lips fills you with an inescapable amount of warmth.

Traitor. You think to yourself at your body’s reaction.

He's standing so close to you now that you can smell the same shampoo and aftershave he always used and it brings back memories of the nights he spent in your bed with you laughing and talking like nothing had changed making you feel alive again for the first time in forty years. Before everything went into the blender set to puree.

Ben's eyes trace your body like he can't believe you're standing in front of him making you wish again that you're wearing the outfit you picked out so that you could look as good as he does. And just as he raises his hand towards your face you remember why you hated him, remember that night, remember what Countess said that caused her to lose her head.

Your hand flashes out so quick you don't think Ben notices it until it lands with a resounding slap against his cheek that sends him reeling back from you. Your strengths were similar, almost identical, and if he hadn't been invulnerable it would have ripped his perfect jaw from his face.

"What the fuck was that for?" Ben snaps, green eyes blazing as he looks back at you.

"You've got some nerve coming back here after all these years." You spit, the anger rising in your chest with wings of fury that beat against your ribcage. "Did you really think that you could just say my name again and make me forget everything that happened Benjamin? I am not one of those trashy women that you used to fuck and the fact that you think you can show up here, give me the fucking puppy dog eyes, and think that I’ll swoon, is ridiculous!”

There goes the dam.

Your gaze levels on Hughie and Butcher who look just as stunned. "And you two. Why did you bring him here? I didn’t want any part of this!”

"Why did you pretend to be dead!" Hughie shouts back.

"Did you think that maybe that was me trying to tell you that I didn't want to be involved? Or are you two just that fucking stupid?"

"Why did you buy a plane ticket then?" Butcher asks again, raising an eyebrow.

Ben is watching you with anger burning in his eyes. It's difficult for you to look at him. Every time you do you think about your last night together, the morning after when he pushed you away, and finally the night where he ripped out your heart and stomped all over it.

How did I ever think I could look at him again when I got him out of Russia?

"Because even though I hate him. He doesn't deserve that. The Ben I knew would have come to get me, and I wasn't going to leave him to rot in some fucking Russian prison." You snap back. "Now get out of my apartment."

"Sweetheart-" Ben begins to say.

"No. No. No. I don't want to hear it from you. Nothing you can say can make this better. I’m glad you’re free or whatever, but go. Get out." You push past him, but Ben's hand flashes out and grabs your wrist with enough force that you feel the bruising of your skin.

"No." He towers over you.

"Let. Me. Go." Your eyes narrow shifting to bright purple. The entire room begins to tremble, the glass windows shake in their panes and the glass jars full of paint brushes on your studio table begin to clink against one another. But he doesn't remove his hand.

"Not until you listen." Ben's own green eyes have hardened into a emerald.

You latch onto the wrist that is holding you and break his grip, before spinning and throwing him backward across the room away from you. Ben's body flies past Hughie and Butcher who watch with wide eyes as he hits the back of the couch and pinwheels over it with a loud thud as he lands on the cushions. You would have rather thrown him into the brick living room wall, but you restrained yourself.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Benjamin. You said enough that night and apparently you were saying lots of things to Countess about me. So get out." Your eyes skate across Butcher and Hughie. "All of you."

Hughie is still watching you with wide eyes, like he can't believe that just happened.

Join the club kid.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben shouts, standing from the couch and straightening his clothes. You don't need to be a psychic to know how angry he is. In fact, you're surprised he's not throwing you out the window or at least throwing a punch. Ben didn't tolerate it when anyone put him in his place and it definitely looks like it's taking him an extreme amount of effort not to attack you, given the way his hands are clenched into fists and the way his jaw is tensed so tightly you can see the muscle flexing.

"She told me what you said about me. That you threw me a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me, that you were bored when we had sex because I was so inexperienced."

"It's not true."

"Isn’t it?" You're trying desperately not to cry, but the angry tears have already begun to well up in your eyes. "The last thing you sad to me was that I was pathetic and that you never would love me, never could love me. That you fucked me because you felt bad for me and you wished I would just fuck off. That I was just another warm pussy and that I meant nothing to you. So forgive me for not believing you."

"Oh shit." Butcher mutters under his breath.

"Damn." Hughie echoes.

"I know what I said to you, Y/n. I've spent the past 40 years regretting it-" Ben begins to say, but you interrupt him.

"Oh I'm so sure. The Great Soldier Boy actually has a conscience, let me just alert the media." You spit back. "Oh wait, sorry you wouldn't want that getting out would you Ben? Because that would mean you aren't a man."

"Y/n-" He growls.

"You don't get to come in here and apologize and act like you did nothing wrong. You're not here because you feel sorry, you're here because you want me to dote on you, to follow you around and give a shit like I did for 40 fucking years.”

“Y/n-“

"Stop saying my name like that!" You shout and the glass sugar dish on the counter flies off the counter and smashes into the floor sending shards of glass everywhere.

Hughie flinches.

"Like what?" Ben exclaims.

"Like you care." You cross your arms over your chest staring him down because you don't want to keep crying.

"I do fucking care about you-" Ben snaps running his hand through his dark hair frustrated.

"No you don't. You never did. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

"Yes I do."

"Please stop talking."

"What else do you want me to say?" Ben shouts back, moving towards you. "I'm trying to fucking apologize-"

"I don't want you to say anything and I don't want to hear your half-assed apology! I want you to leave. You and your creepy friends." You gesture back to where Hughie and Butcher are watching with open mouths, who are unsure if they should leave or watch the show.

"They're not my friends."

"And neither am I! Which means I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say!”

"Y/n please-" His teeth are gritted together.

“I'm not some fangirl Ben. I was your friend, your friend before any of this. Before any of this fucking supe shit. I cared about you. I had been in love with you since I was 8. I had taken care of you since the night we met." More tears squeeze down your cheeks as a lifetime of happy memories before everything went down the drain wash over you. The wonderful times you'd shared together at the park, in your bedroom back in Philadelphia, dancing in the dancehall,  at baseball games and Ben walking you home all the while you wobbled down the street drunkenly and sang off key. All the blissful little moments that you thought maybe he felt the same way about you and then followed by the moments you spent together the night of your birthday, when you felt more special and loved than you'd ever had. It makes the knife he stuck in your back even sharper. 

"That night we spent together meant everything to me. I thought it was special and I thought you loved me. But you don't. You just fucked me because you were bored and you found the first person who said yes.” Your body turns away, but he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him.

"I do love you damnit!" He shouts. "I didn't want to-" Ben's jaw clenches in frustration, looking back at Butcher and Hughie. "Can you two just fuck off?"

"I wish you all would." You say, trying to loosen his grip on your shoulders, but he doesn't let go. You think about throwing him across the room again, because it made you feel a lot better.

"Fine. We'll be outside." Butcher says tugging Hughie away.

"Are you sure?" Hughie asks looking from you to Ben as if he's worried to leave the two of you alone.

"You want to be here? Because they're either going to kill each other or start fucking." Butcher responds.

"We are not going to start-" You begin, but they're already out the front door of your apartment leaving you alone with Ben, who is still holding on to your shoulders.

"Please listen to me." Ben says looking deep into your eyes. "When you said that you loved me it-" He stops looking for the right word as if he can't say the next ones that come out of his mouth. "Oh fuck it, it fucking scared me. Okay?  It scared me, Y/n, and damnit I'm not a pussy! I'm not afraid of anything!"

“Oh no you could never be a pussy could you? Soldier Boy could never admit that he had real feelings for someone.” Your voice wobbles, tears trailing down your cheeks as you poke him in the chest to emphasize every word. “And now you’re just saying what I want to hear, because you want to have another quick fuck!” You push your hands against his chest trying to push him off of you, but he won't let go. "You're just saying it because its been forty years since you had sex and you thought, huh might as well find the most pathetic person I know, Y/n won't say no if I pretend to be everything she wanted again."

He doesn't mean it. He doesn't love me.

"I’m not lying to you! And I’m not pretending! I wasn't pretending that night either!” Ben roars so loudly you flinch. “That night I felt things with you that I had never felt with anyone else. It wasn't cheap sex or a quick fuck-" His jaw tightens as if he's embarrassed to admit it. "Damn it.” His teeth are gritted together. “We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I’m ready now, I’m not scared anymore. I love you!”

He's saying everything you always wanted him to, but you're scared. Scared that he's just saying it, that he thinks it's what you want to hear and this is the only way that he can get you back into his life because he needs someone to follow him around, because he can't be alone.

You stand there for a minute taking in his stance. His head is slightly bowed in shame, shoulders tight, body leaning towards you. But then you catch his eye, you see the sorrow, frustration, and pain in his gaze. Ben was not big on sharing feelings and for him to admit all of these things aloud was shocking enough without the obvious emotions flashing in his eyes. It was so different than the stoic or pissed off attitude he usually had when he was Soldier Boy. The look in his eyes is so earnest and Ben has never been a good liar, not to you anyway. You always knew what he was thinking.

If I forgive him then what does that mean? I forget the past 40 years like they never happened? I forget all the tears when he broke my heart? Forget how broken I was? How broken I still am?

You think of all the times you missed him, all the times you forgot about what he said to you and remembered the good, all the times you wanted him there with you and Rosemary because you knew he would love to be there. All the early memories together, all the missions, everything that lead up to the falling out and Ben’s supposed death. Ben's admission of guilt and his confession of love for you was shocking. Especially because the Ben you knew 40 years ago would have rather dropped dead than say the words "make love."

No. I won't give in. I can't do this, I can't do this all over again. I was better, I was moving on, he doesn't have the right to come here and mess up my life all over again.

"No." You shout, shoving him away with all your strength. Ben stumbles backward, his eyes wide as if he wasn't expecting you to push him away, because of course he wasn't. “You don’t know anything about love. You’re just saying that because you know it’s what I want to hear, what I’ve always wanted you to say to me.”

He still doesn't understand how much he hurt me. And he doesn't deserve my forgiveness.

“I’m not just saying that, it’s true. Please y/n-“

"I don't believe you. And when I said I never wanted to see you ever again I wasn't lying. So get out Ben!" You shout.

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving." Ben says back determined.

You weren't prepared for what those words did to you. You weren't prepared for the floodgate of emotions that exploded the moment those words passed through his lips or the way it felt like you were being tugged in two different directions. Because despite wanting to throw him across the room again, those three little words made you want to run into his arms and hold him close, made you want him to take you to bed and make you forget all the shitty things that happened forty years ago, make it like he never left.

But you couldn't do it. As much as you wanted to forgive him, you couldn't because you didn't trust him anymore, you didn't trust that he could give you what you wanted.

“Too bad! I won’t do this to myself again. All I did was care about you, help you. I stood by you and made excuses for the person you became and I held on to this picture of the boy you used to be. The one I fell in love with. The one that used to climb in my window when things were hard. The one that took me to my first baseball game. The one who danced with me. The one that made me feel like less of a freak because he understood me. And the one that begged me to leave Howard and everything I knew and come with him. That night we were together I saw that boy again.  I loved that boy. I would have done anything for him and I did. But he’s not here anymore. And I hate myself for holding on to him as long as I did.”

"But I told you I loved you!" Ben exclaims.

“Just saying that isn’t enough, not after everything that happened!” You shout. "You're forty years too late Benjamin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to bed. And I don’t want you to be here when I wake up.”

"Y/n please-" You hate how he sounds when he says it, like he's broken, because Ben has never once sounded that way in all the years you'd known him. You hate how he looks. How his dark hair is falling forward into his face and he looks so much like the boy you used to love that it makes you want to scream, because you wanted to believe that he was gone, but all you see when you look up at him is that boy. There is not one shred of Soldier Boy in the way he looks right now and you hate that. You hate that you wanted to forgive him, that all it took was him looking like at you like that. But you still can't do it.

"Just go." Your throat thickening as you say it, fresh tears trailing down your cheeks. "I don't want you here. I never want you to come here ever. I never want to see you again.” You lie pushing past him and walk down the dark hallway, slamming and locking your bedroom door behind you. Your body sinks to the floor as you pull your knees up into your chest, sobs shaking your body and tears pour from your eyes.

How many tears can I spend on one man? How do I still have any left after all these years? How could I have been stupid to think that I was over him? That I could just go to Russia, break him out, and then push him out of my life so easily? None of what just happened was easy.

Your face presses into your knees. You want to call Rosemary, call her and tell her what happened, but your phone is still on the counter and you couldn't go back out there, because you knew he was still there. Standing in your living room looking too perfect after all these years and saying all the things you always wanted him to and you don’t want to go out there and forgive him.

So you stay. Your back pressed against the door, crying into your knees and hoping that this will just all end.

Because it’s got to one day right?

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

*Soldier Boy POV*

He hadn't meant to reach for you, but all he wanted was to feel the gentle swell of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, the smoothness of your skin against his rough fingertips, and to memorize the planes of your face with his touch. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Your curves perfectly accentuated by a pair of cute paint splattered overalls that made him smile, and your hair pulled away from your face in a messy bun but still made you look effortless and striking. When he saw you standing there, it was like taking a punch to the gut. He knew that he missed you, but seeing you there warm and alive made him want to crush you against his chest and never let you go ever again.

He had laid himself bare before you, allowing himself to push through the urge  to shove all his emotions back beneath the surface as his father taught him, and spoke, instead, the words he wished that he had said all those years ago.

Ben's shoulders tense when he thinks of what you shouted back at him, how broken you looked. His heart falls into the pit of his stomach when he remembers the tears in your eyes. Ben hated it when you cried. He also hated that the first time he saw you in forty years he made you cry, again.

He didn't know how to fix this. Ben thought that his apology would be enough to make you at least try to forgive him, but it hadn't. You had shoved him away from you, refused to let him touch you or comfort you-

Why is she so damn stubborn? I apologized! I told her that I loved her! Isn’t that what she wanted?

He grits his teeth together thinking about how you threw him across the room like he weighed nothing. If anyone else had done that to him, Ben would have killed them, but he knew that he deserved it. He knew you would be mad, but he thought that you would at least want to hear everything he had to say instead of cursing him out and slamming the door in his face.

When you slammed your door behind you, he had stood outside of it for an hour listening to you cry, heard your soft muffled sobs. At one point he leaned his head against the door and wished you would let him in so he could hold you while you cried, even though the thought made him feel like a pussy. He wanted to comfort you. He wished you had forgiven him, allowed him to take you to bed, allowed him to show you how sorry he was and how much he loved you. He wished that you let him help you forget the last shitty forty years that you spent without him, forget what he said and what he did to you that night. 

The harsh words you yelled at him make him flinch, when you told him that you didn't want him there and never wanted him to come back. They were the words that he always feared you would say to him when he climbed in through your window at night or when he showed up at your apartment when you were still on Payback. And hearing you say those words felt worse than anything those Russian fucks did to him. Because Ben didn't know where he belonged if he wasn't with you, he didn't know what to do if you weren't in his life, you were the only thing that mattered.

How could I fuck this up this much?

Ben looks back at the clock on the wall in the kitchen which shows he'd been there for three hours waiting for you to come out of your room, but you hadn't. He knew it was because you fell asleep, he could hear your heart beat, your soft breath against the pillows, and the almost silent sounds you made when you slept. They were exactly the same as when he would fall asleep next to you and damn it he didn't realize how much he missed them until this exact moment.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How do I fucking fix this?

Ben stands from the couch and walks down the hallway for the millionth time to stand outside your door preparing to knock, but he didn't know what to say. He thought that he'd said enough, but judging by your reaction he hadn't.

The thought of saying anything else was difficult for him to swallow. It was hard enough to say what he had to you, but he was realizing he was going to have to delve even deeper to make you even look at him again or want to be around him. 

Finally he goes to the front door of your apartment before he looks back down the hallway. He didn't want to leave, didn't want you to wake up and him not be there despite what you said about wanting him to leave. He wanted you to understand that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was never going to leave you ever again no matter how hard you tried to push him away. But he needed to leave now, not for long, just long enough for him to get what he needed.

He had seen the florist shop on the corner when Butcher drove up. As Ben walked down the street in the direction of the florist he remembered the conversation he had with Butcher after you slammed your door in his face. Convincing Butcher to let him remain in the apartment was difficult, but finally when Ben threatened to rip Hughie in half, Butcher relented stating that he would give Ben one night with you before he came back. That was the deal anyway, Ben had lied, because like hell he was going to leave now that he'd found you again.

Ben wasn't planning on leaving and  even if you couldn't stand to look at him, Ben would not go. Even if it meant sleeping on that shitty couch every night.

He would never leave you again.

The smell of the flowers wafted out of the small shop when Ben opens the door, his eyes skating across the numerous bouquets, each one more extravagant than the last. Other women would swoon over them, but not you. His eyes fall first on roses, but he turns away. He knew that you didn’t like roses, although many believed them to be classic, Ben knew that you thought over the years that roses had become generic and overused. He of course had sent some to numerous women over the years, but he liked that you were different. He always liked that about you. He rolls his eyes when he remembered when Howard bought you some every week.

Because of course that asshole didn’t know what y/n liked. No one knows her as well as me.

The man behind the counter eyes him when he walks in. "Can I help you find something sir?"

"No." Ben says gruffy looking at the displays again, but then he sighs. "Do you have any lavender?"

"Lavender?"

"Yeah." Ben knew it was the only thing that you would accept, knew that it was your favorite because it reminded you of the house your family rented over the summers up North. Ben hated those summers. He'd break into your bedroom and sleep in your bed while thinking of you and reading the letters you sent him over and over again, the ones that you pressed fresh lavender into and the ones that made him realize just how much he needed you.

Those of course weren’t the only letters you ever sent him. When he went to boarding school he’d wait for you to send him a letter and one of your doodles or a small painting. He kept every one in a cigar box under his bed. It was why he was kicked out of boarding school number nine, a fight he had with another student began because the student had found the box and then proceeded to mock Ben endlessly by passing around the letters you sent him. Ben had never told you what the fight was about.

Ben stops as he realizes how he’s going to get you to listen to him.

“Here you are sir.” The florist reappears at the counter holding a large vase of freshly cut lavender.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” Ben asks.

“Sure.”

The object the man hands him is not a phone, well not a phone that Ben’s ever seen before.

“I said a phone-“

“That is a phone?” The man looks confused.

“How do I fucking call someone with this?” Ben sighs shaking the black rectangle in his hand and looking for the buttons.

The man takes the object and swipes his fingers across it before handing it back to him so Ben can see the numbers to dial. “Just push what you want and hit the green button.” The man says, looking at Ben like he's crazy.

“Oh. Thanks.” He mutters, before dialing the number and holding the phone up to his ear.

Legend answers on the first ring.

“Hey it’s me. Do you still have all my old shit from my apartment?”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

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

N/A: Why not end on a cliffhanger? This chapter is a bit longer, because this week is CRAZY for me and I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter. But I'm not giving up on these two. They deserve the world.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think. If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @abramswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit

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———

She brushes another kiss to his hidden face and settles against the car door, holding him. She thinks for a moment and decides on something old, a tune she heard on the radio once upon a time and never heard again; she’s warped it, now, no doubt about it, humming it from memory so long it’s changed to whatever she has made it. But Will recognises it from years of lullabies, picking up on the swooping baritones and mumbling the words into her shoulder.

“You know, that Han Solo shrine up in your room makes a lot more sense, now that I think about it.”

The melody dies in his throat.

“Mama.”

“I’m just saying.” She bites back a smirk, swatting away his smacking hands. “There was a point in time I thought it was admiration, you know, but you have a lot of posters of that open vest —”

“Mama!”

She acquiesces, this time, never having seen his poor face so scarlet, trying and failing to keep her laughter to herself. The tear tracks have long since dried and his breathing is steady, now, gangly limbs tucked into her ribs and hanging off the bend of her thigh. Flopped all over her like he used to to when he was young and she was still touring, when the world was too loud and too bright and too mean and she hid him from the sun. Her hands in his hair are to touch instead of soothe.

“Who’s the boy?”

“No.”

“C’mon, babydoll.” She pokes at his ribs, grinning widely when he rolls his eyes to hide his smile. “Tell me.”

“It’s nobody, Ma, gods.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you were comparing having a crush to killing someone in cold blood twenty minutes ago. Clearly it’s somebody.”

He, very pointedly, doesn’t answer.

Unfortunately, he forgets that he gets his stubborn from her.

“Hm. Can’t be anyone I haven’t heard of in a few weeks, or else it wouldn’t be bothering you. What names have you mentioned?”

He looks at her in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Absolutely, she would. Her smile widens.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it ain’t Chiron, ‘cause then I’d have questions —”

“Oh my gods! Stop!”

“— an’ I doubt it’s that security fellow, with the eyes, although if it is no judgement —”

“I’m throwing myself out of this car! Right now! I’m gonna lay on the road ‘til someone hits me!”

“— Lord, you don’t mention many names. You’re a recluse, baby. You gotta make more than two friends.”

She stills. Will, perhaps guessing where she is going, makes a noise of deep, personal agony.

“Oh my stars, is it Cecil?”

“Ew, Ma!”

He strains against her hold but she tightens, hooking her elbow around his shoulders and flexing her other hand, pretending to examine her nails.

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, he is a very handsome young man. And he has a good heart, too, despite the — how to put it — distaste for the law —”

“I just threw up in my mouth! Right now! Stop it!”

“I should probably stop letting him stay in your room when he stays over, huh, that one’s on me —”

He wrenches himself away from her, finally, clambering over the seats and gagging like the mere idea makes him nauseous.

“Ew! Ew! I do not have a thing for Cecil, oh my gods, I might as well marry my cousin! Augh! I’m gonna throw up for real! Why would you even say that, oh my —”

“Alright, alright!” she laughs, kicking his rapidly repeating shoulder. “Holy Jesus, you are dramatic. I should call up camp and tell him you’re out here retchin’ at the mere thought.”

“Good,” Will says darkly, voice muffled from how deeply his head is buried in his hands, “make sure to also tell him he is a weasel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am going to deface his vintage Hot Wheels collection.”

“Y’all have a strange friendship.”

“He’s not my friend, I am stuck with him via circumstance and because he refuses to leave me alone.”

She holds up her hands in surrender, refraining from pointing out the friendship bracelet he is currently wearing with a CM on it and that has not left his wrist in four years.

“Alright, alright. Not Cecil.”

He scoffs in agreement, ignoring her rolled eyes.

She wracks her brain for other boys he’s brought up in their phone calls, aside from people in passing. Mostly he mentions patients, really, answering her endless inquiries — it will never stop astounding her that he baby can practically sew heads back on bodies; she tells people he’s in med school and preens at their wide, impressed eyes — but there are other people he mentions, in between that and the pranks he’s frequently pulling with his friends.

“There was that boy you were so excited to keep around. Nick?”

“His name is Nico,” he corrects, and then immediately goes scarlet. “I — I mean, I have a friend, named Nico, not that —”

Her grin gets sharp as nails.

“He is — unwell! He’s travelled a lot, he needs monitoring so I am — monitoring him, you know, out of concern for his safety —”

“Nico and Wi-ill, sitting in a tree —”

“Oh my gods are you five —”

“You are steaming! I can actually feel the heat pouring off of you right now! You love him, you want to kiss him, you —”

“I am never telling you anything again in my entire life!” he hollers. “Never! Next time I think I should tell you something I’m just gonna — swallow glass”

She snickers. “Drama queen.”

He sticks out his tongue as she situates herself back in her own seat, turning the keys in the engine. His puts his dirty converse on the dash despite her grouching, reaching over to fight her for control of the radio, flapping his hand excitedly when she lets him win and something bright and overdone starts playing. His bandage stays where it is, tied loosely around his wrist.

“I’m glad you told me, you know.”

He smiles, small and genuine, leaning into the palm she cups around his cheek. The dimple in the centre of his right cheek is back, the scrunch of his freckled nose. She presses a lingering kiss smack dab in the centre of his forehead and he leans into it, trusting.

“I know.”

[dootznbootz]

that WHO in no longer u oh my GOD

YESSSS

Like, yeah, Odysseus is like "Yandere" (joking but also not) because kills all who even go near Penelope and Telemachus and he's very protective of them AND jealous.

But I think this "WHO?!" is also a desperate plea as to who is this dangerous man who is near his wife? A warlord? A conquerer? A man who would not even care about Penelope for who she is and mistreats her?

Because even in the Odyssey, Odysseus asks about Penelope to his mother.

Tell me of the wife I married. What are her thoughts and plans? Is she still there with our son, keeping watch on everything? Or has she been married                            to the finest of Achaeans?

(Book 11, Johnston)

There's not even much resentment in his question. There could be but Narrator does not say. The use of "the finest of Achaeans" almost is a "Did she at least marry the best man? Did she at least marry a GOOD man?"

In "No Longer You", when he hears of this dangerous man NEAR his wife, he is SCARED. It could be jealousy but I feel it's more of concern. As it is in the Odyssey.

"I understand if she would remarry, it pains me but I did tell her that when Telemachus finally grows his beard, she could. I will love her always but is she at least happy? Is she safe?"

And she's not safe. She's not happy. He is terrified.

Psst. The reason why My Odysseus takes a long time to grow his beard is because of that line. He's hoping that his son will take after him and take forever to grow a beard like he did (as he doesn't really have one even when he first leaves for Troy) because he would try forever to get home. Penelope even teases him that he still doesn't have one so that's a silly request and that's the point. "I will never stop trying to come back to you. He and I will likely remain beardless forever." (it's a little funky for him when he finally grows one by the end of Troy. He's thinking "...Shit. Telemachus, stay baby-faced for your dad please.")

ANYWAYS.

I mean we all know that these two are obsessed with each other in the Odyssey and in Epic. They are likeminded and are so integral to who they are. They mean everything to one another. I think Odysseus genuinely does want Penelope happy. As even in the Odyssey with him simply asking for another bed, shows how much he loves and respects her. He could've been like "get in it" even though she had rejected him at first but he LISTENS BECAUSE HE LOVES HER. Only breaking down into a sobbing mess when he believes she destroyed their bed.

"Heaven made you as you are, but for sheer obstinacy you put all the rest of your sex in the shade. No other wife could have steeled herself to keep so long out of the arms of a husband she had just got back after nineteen years of misadventure. Well, nurse, make a bed for me to sleep alone in. For my wife's heart is just about as hard as iron."

(Book 23, Rieu)

Please note that this is his attempt to insult her in a way and yet he still talks about her being from Heaven 👀 SIMP

But even though he's deeply hurt by her rejection (poor guy would've probably sobbed himself to sleep) He still asks for another bed. After sleeping on the floor and in the dirt since he's been on Ithaca, refusing beds unless it's his own marriage bed, he takes her 'no' because he values her happiness and comfort over his own. He takes a lesser bed so she can still sleep in their own luxurious one.

I mean we know how fucking awful the suitors are. Hold Them Down is a disturbing song. (as it should be. As they are not good men) He does not even know how bad these men are yet. If his future self could speak with his past self, he'd probably be like "Yeah, don't worry about the guy who kills a bunch of people, they had it coming. ;) " or something.

That "WHO?!" is a mix of jealousy AND fear.

[ronintales]

ೃ₊ 🌾 ❝ So When I Die ❞ ╰►, Gojo Satoru

𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 | following gojo satoru’s death, his ex wife is in charge of taking care of his funeral service and everything else that comes with it.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 | 4,676 words

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | character death, possible spoilers, funeral, angst, and not proofread ;p

 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | I did NAWT want this to be my first work on here but due to certain circumstances…. AHEM his DEATH!!!! I felt it was necessary because laik… grief LOL. I wrote this a while back tho. Enjoy.

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ♡ ༘° 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓, gojo satoru …

Your ex-husband is dead, and in his line of work, yes, you know that he has a higher risk of dying than the average person, but still, death never comes expected, does it? Even if he always says—oh wait… used to, you suppose, say that he was crazy strong and no one could ever take him down. Well, he was wrong in the end like a bunch of other things. Like how well he took care of you, how he’d give you six kids, how—you won’t ramble, noting he’s dead now and there’s no point, but also because it’s quite rude of you to talk down on someone who is dead and can’t defend themselves. Whatever.

You just… don’t expect it. Yes, you understood he was hard headed and insanely cocky, but in a way… you always believed that he would always come home alive and, even if he did get hurt, he would be okay eventually as he heals. You don’t forget it, he’s only human, you know because of the many mistakes he’s made, but still… he’s… he’s gone?

You hesitated when you heard that. Gojo Satoru, the so-called love of your life from two years ago, is dead? Impossible, you think. Gojo Satoru found death embarrassing, with all the things he said. He said that he would be okay. He was always okay. What are you supposed to say to that?

When you get the call, you wonder why you, of all the people in his life, were the one they called to inform about his status. Why did you have to go to his place and clean out all his things? Take all his belongings with you? At first, your instinct was to say “throw it all away,” because what does Gojo Satoru mean to you now? You’re not his wife! He neglected you for years and filled your days and nights with sorrows. He broke your heart. But still, he didn’t mean nothing to you at the same time.

Those precious years of being his acquaintance in middle school. When you had shorter hair and he didn’t know much about you other than you were in his class and he had bought you cute white socks for your class gift exchange on Christmas that year. The long years that Gojo Satoru pined for you after you both attended the same high school. The hard and dark times he went through losing Suguru and shutting you out, though he loved you for so long. When you turned twenty, and Satoru had gotten better, to the point where he felt he was ready to move on and continue with his pursuit for you. When you turned twenty-three, and got married to him on a spur. When you moved in and shared a bed, until the marriage got cold and most nights you spent alone.

You couldn’t say for the past fourteen years, Gojo Satoru was nothing at all to you. The news was shocking, and knowing he was dead… did you have to be careful about how you felt about him, or how you thought of him? Well, now that he is dead, should you be so ruthless and hostile toward the man who broke your heart? You don’t know, so naturally, and it really just slips out, you agree to take care of the process of his passing.

For the most part, you’re calm. You don’t actually know how to feel, and you don’t know how to be. You’re not his wife, you have no obligations to take care of him, or anything that he cared about. Yet, you’re here. In his lonely apartment that doesn’t even smell like him. He probably never even spent much time in this place, even so, he still had a lot of belongings. Pictures of you in frames surprisingly. He did take them all when you got divorced and he moved out of the house, you just didn’t expect that he’d put them up on display. He probably didn’t get many visitors to question him about the lady in his pictures. You were sure that would get annoying.

Anyway, you don’t know if you’re supposed to cry or even feel sad. You don’t know if it’s strange to feel that way or not. You can’t quite make out how you feel, being surrounded by Gojo Satoru’s personality and things. You don’t think too much about the things inside the apartment because you don’t want to be too reminded of what you used to be. What you felt about the man once upon a time. If there was still love in your heart for him.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t a slob, but he wasn’t clean either by any means. Given he probably didn’t stay here much, it made sense that you didn’t need to clean a whole lot of the apartment. You get there and you take it all in. Satoru’s little apartment, because he didn’t want to pay for such a luxurious place he wouldn’t even stay in. Maybe that kind of place made him feel more alone too. Thoughts you should not be thinking start to trickle into your brain, but you stop yourself. You shouldn’t feel bad for leaving, nor should you want to go back. You made a decision to leave and you should honor it. It was the right thing to do for yourself (hopefully).

Do you even want his things? No, not really. But you have a keep, donate, and a throw away bin anyway. Most of it keeps going to the keep bin and donation box. Somehow the feeling of someone else getting Gojo Satoru’s things is unsettling to you, but it’s even worse to think that all these things will just go to a landfill where things that were once valued are forgotten and it’s all going to be considered “trash.” Maybe that’s because you know why every item is there and the story behind that certain mug or decor piece. You don’t know it, but you’re trying your best not to care.

You sigh, the thought that this is all so strange, bothering and pestering you like an annoying fly. You tell yourself you know that already, so stop thinking about it. Maybe you’re in denial that Gojo Satoru is actually gone. You can feel him. He’s still there, you know it. That or you’re just surrounded by his belongings and that’s why his presence is here.

In your hand, you hold a big black garbage bag as you make your way to his bedroom to clear out his closet. This is a room of his that you haven’t been to, strange right? You wondered if another woman spent time here. Jealous much? You’re supposed to be clearing out your ex-husband’s apartment, not pondering about what he was up to after you two had split. The man is dead for one, what are you going to do about it? Confront his dead body? You shouldn’t be thinking about things like that, so that thought is one you shake off and ignore too.

You sigh because you’re tired from cleaning all day and clearing his things out and you’re probably only a quarter’s way done with the place. It’s not even that big, it’s just been uncomfortably hard for you to bring yourself here with your mixed and strange feelings about this whole situation. Isn’t there anyone else who cares about Gojo Satoru? How come you’re stepping up to the plate when this is how you feel—confused and unsure? What are you even going to do for the funeral? You took the task up because Gojo Satoru would probably turn in his grave knowing the higher ups organized his funeral. So while it is strange for you to do all of this, you’ve rationalized the lot of this situation that you put yourself in. Once upon a time, he loved you right? So surely he would prefer you over—you’re so silly, thinking all these things when Gojo Satoru is your dead ex-husband.

You plop on the bed with a small groan as you turn over. This is a bit inappropriate, to be laying on your ex husband’s unmade bed. It’s left in the state that it was the last time he woke up. That’s a little precious you think, freely, not even denying it. Are you ruining this precious thing here? Well, in all honesty, you’re kind of cherishing it, because this is a small piece of Satoru that is really still here in the present times. He always liked soft things and this blanket is soft. The sheets still smell like your ex-husband. The light musk of his skin and his soap is there. The thought of this bed being his is comfortable enough. Like you miss his warmth and touch, you curl up on the mattress, hugging yourself to the scent of him surrounding, and you can almost imagine that he’s holding you right now, like he used to. His detergent is faintly there too, well actually, it’s the same as yours. He asked when you two had split and he was settling into his own place all the household items you used. You supposed that it was all he knew.

You offered to go shop for household things with him and it was probably the last time you two had exchanged any kind of affection. You let him put his hand on your thigh as he drove you two to the supermarket. He let you link your arm with his, sides flush together like you two didn’t just get divorced. It was a silent message of “I miss you,” because it was and—quite frankly, still is—hard to get over someone you loved for so long. Even if he left the marriage long before you did, emotionally and physically. This was something you wanted while you married, for Satoru to present, and in your arms. For him to show you that he cared and loved you. You were even a little upset that was the only time he was doing all of that for you, but you chose not to ruin the moment for the both of you.

Funny how all these memories and things between the two of you are flooding in constantly. It makes you feel kind of sick. Nauseous and unable to breathe. You open your eyes in realization of what you’re doing right now. You sit up immediately, flustered and embarrassed as if Satoru would open the door right now and have that annoying smug grin on his face with his arms crossed, just to say as he leans on the door frame, “I knew you missed me.” Following with your name because he liked your name the best. He always said your name was pretty and he wouldn’t give you a pet name because nothing will ever be as great as calling you by your name. A nice little reminder that Satoru loved your name makes you smile a bit. Weird how all of these just keep piling up. One thought triggers another and it almost makes you itch and feel bad for the way things ended between the two of you. You almost have regrets about—

Whatever, you have a deadline to clean this place up you remind yourself. You spread your palms out on the sheets once more, feeling every thread that Satoru once laid his body on. You should take these for your bed, you think. They’re not so bad, just a plain white sheet, but it reminds you of Satoru’s hair and it would be waste.You lift yourself from the bed and open his closet, not even noticing how you keep having to make excuses for yourself to keep some of his things.

Already feeling overwhelmed because you keep holding back, opening the closet makes you feel like you’re cracking. You let out a suppressed sound. You can’t even register what it sounds like. A squeak or something? But looking at all his clothes almost makes everything so real for you. All his uniform? All his coats and sweaters? Ah, the one from high school. And then you can see all the ones you bought him. Damn, does that really test your strength.

Lined up neatly and nicely put away, it’s almost a shame to you to give these away. Your hand shakes as you hesitantly reach for one of his favorite button ups. Your skin meets the soft fabric and you only lightly touch it because you don’t want to wrinkle it. You remember when you used to iron Satoru’s clothes early in the morning before he woke up. Even until the end of your marriage, you still ironed them.

You look up, reaching for his work uniform. This is what he wore most often, you know that. So you let yourself crumble. Carefully taking off the hanger and sitting on his bed as you hold the shirt close to you. You bring it to your nose, just to smell it. You wish it smelled like Satoru more, but even so, it makes you break down.

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you take another sniff. The thought that Satoru really isn’t here anymore makes your heartbreak. It comes crashing down on you. You really miss him, and you regret that you didn’t spend as much time as you would have liked to with him. You wish you could have had the courage to tell him how much you still cared and loved him. Yes, it might not have been the same kind of love you had for him before, but you did still love him.

You let out a little sob. In frustration and despair, tears flow out as you hold his clothes close to you. The walls of your bruised heart collapses as you hold his clothes so tight as if he was still in them. Well, you really do wish he was. You’re desperate to feel him in your arms physically. Just a moment with him so you could say your last sentiments. Just a moment to see him again. Just a moment to love him.

You’re helpless as your tears flow endlessly onto his shirt. You feel silly, but you just can’t stop. You really miss Satoru, and you have been for so many months now. You stroke the shirt as you would his body, wallowing in the grief you’re supposed to feel, even if the dead man is your ex-husband. You spent so many years loving him, how could you just not feel anything to hear news of his death? How could you not feel any regret or remorse for how messy you left things with him? There’s so many things you want to say to him, and it kills you to know you will never get to say any of it to him.

You wonder if Satoru was still around, would he wrap his arms around you and tell you not to cry? Would he kiss your temple like he always did when you were down? You wish he would just do all of it. You wish you two could have tried harder. Your love for him never burned out, you know that much. It’s the reason why you’re here, alone in his room crying as you hold his clothes dearly to you. And even if you hate to say it, even if you don’t want to admit it, Satoru loved you until the very end too.

“I’m still in love with you y’know…”

“Shut up,” You mutter as you slide the eggs off the pan for the hungry man at the table.

It was the dead hours of the night when he returned from a mission, knocking on your door, telling you that he was hungry and needed a place to crash.You slammed the door on him of course, but he wedged his foot in the gap of the door (no, it didn’t hurt, he’s got magical powers that prevent him from actually getting hurt like damn maniac) and used his own strength against you to push his upper body through the door to beg you to let him stay. It was a mistake on your part, but it actually wasn’t all that terrible that night. You were just bitter.

“My bad,” Satoru said dramatically as he took a bite. “Just thought you missed me. That’s the reason you let me in, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not in the mood for any of his games. His smug grin made everything even worse, because he was right. “Gojo Satoru, wipe that grin off your face.”

“Must have hit a nerve,” He teased like it was still appropriate to do so.

You actually don’t even remember what you said then after that, but you just know… Gojo Satoru has you all figured out yet… he never said anything about it to you. And that was just him. He knew well enough not to break your heart one more time, but he was selfish enough to constantly flirt with you any time he could. If he passed by, or was coming home late from a mission and knocking on your door to remind you that he existed. Not anymore.

After cleaning his apartment, it’s all empty now. Which is a little strange. You’ve never even been to his place until after he died, and yet… it makes your stomach turn and feel upset after realizing that this place is no longer where your ex-lover resides. You understand that he’s no longer occupying it. There’s no point in keeping it for him. But maybe because you don’t think it through while you’re still in the grieving process. You don’t think about Gojo Satoru being dead because you don’t want to. It makes your heart squeeze and your breath stop. You can’t face the fact that he no longer exists and you can no longer see him anymore. You just can’t, so you wonder: where will his home be? Who's going to take care of him? Where is he going to go to shelter himself from the rain or snow? Where is he going to sleep? Where can he feel safe and secure?

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. You really need to get some proper rest. You feel yourself withering in the bitter feelings you still have toward Satoru, but also the dangerous sorrow that’s sinking your whole body down. You can’t believe that you really miss Gojo Satoru after all this time hating him and wishing you two had never met when he was here and alive, waiting for you to just cave into what your heart wanted. Truth is though, you never would. You were too strong for that.

Finally, you pack up the final things, leaving absolutely nothing behind. Satoru isn’t here anymore, and it looks exactly like that. This little corner of the world isn’t his anymore, and you’d like to say that it never was because he didn’t spend much of his time in this place. It’s just sad to see it all gone, stripped to the bare white box it actually is without the fun of your late ex-husband. You shut the door, leaving this place behind and bringing this part of Satoru with you, maybe the only part of Satoru that is still worldly and able for you to have in your grasp. You leave the key to his apartment on the landlord’s desk and leave with the rest of Satoru’s things in your arms, all thrown in the cardboard box labeled “Satoru” in your handwriting with a permanent marker. Silly of you to not even realize it, Gojo Satoru’s home is not a place, it’s you.

The end of it was the funeral process. Which was much more work than cleaning his apartment. You wish somebody was worried about your well-being, but that somebody, the most likely candidate, was dead. Satoru would have told you to chill out a bit and ask you to wind down with him, but this is his funeral, he can’t really do that now, can he? But you don’t want to seem like you’re so reliant on him. You’ve done plenty of things without him, and this will be no exception. He just… sort of made the process easier and bearable. You’re on your 10th phone call with the carpenters of the coffin when you really wish you didn’t take on the task of carrying out Satoru’s dying wishes. He didn’t even have many, because he was so sure he wasn’t going to die so soon.

Through it all, you hold yourself together quite elegantly. Even through the eulogy. No one would even guess the mental strain you put yourself through to make this all happen. All the floral arrangements are beautiful, Satoru’s corpse is dressed nicely—though you grace him with a closed casket funeral because you were sure that he did not want anyone to see him so vulnerably lifeless and you simply could not handle the sight of his stale and unresponsive body. But everyone could indeed tell, Gojo Satoru was loved. They could understand your love for the man. You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t love him. But you just deny it.

His guest list was quite large. Some people you didn't even know, and you were sure he did not want that. But the higher ups had their own agenda too, and you had to make compromises though you stood your ground quite well for the sake of your late ex-husband's well being in the afterlife. You wonder, would Satoru love you for eternity for loving and caring for him unconditionally and so thoroughly? When you eventually join him, will he thank you for so meticulously planning and giving him a proper send off? You hope so. You hope that he will continue to love you in the next lifetime, and in that lifetime, you two will be happily together. Not miserably apart like you are now.

Maybe the only time anyone can see you break is when the casket is lowered and this is the last time that you’ll ever see Satoru’s face again, except you don’t. His casket is closed and covered with all the flowers you bought to send him off beautifully. There’s a complex look on your face, and no one could quite read it, but it was clear that there was a storm going on inside of you, stirring and rumbling. Your eyebrows knitted together and your eyes glossy with a down turn of your lips. You’re just keeping yourself together for Satoru. You need to.

The only time you get to break down about it is when you get home from the long day. Crumbling down your door, as you miserably sob. How could the world be so possibly cruel that you had to bury the last man you loved for the past ten years? It never gave you time to move on. You weren’t ready to let go just yet and be content with the distance. Sure, you asked for it when he was still tangible, but now he was untouchable, not existing, and it felt so painful. You curl up in a ball, on the bed you used to share with him. The bed you two used to gossip on and the bed where you simply just held him to sleep on your good days. The bed that you laid alone for most nights wishing he’d come to hold you and not be too tired for you. All the bad and good memories come to make you think of one thing; you wish Satoru was here right now.

You lay there, contemplating if you just want to stay there for the whole week or get up and cook yourself something. You haven’t been eating with how hectic it’s been to take care of Satoru’s send off. You sigh, closing your eyes. Sleep sounds like the best thing to you at the moment. You were drained and exhausted from preserving the life of Gojo Satoru as well as commemorating it. You needed that rest.

When you drift into sleep, you kind of hope that Satoru is there for you, waiting in a field of beautiful flowers like he came to visit you in a dream. Even if it’s just your imagination. You’d like to think that he cared enough that he left you alone to deal with all of the things he left behind. He doesn’t though, because you don’t dream. You just black out and you wonder if you’ll ever dream again. But maybe you’re just being dramatic because you miss your ex-husband so much. You blink the tears out from your eyes, wiping them before getting up and pulling yourself together. You can be sad, but not miserable. You were never the type to just crumble, however, even this shook you down to the very ground and yes, it is hard to get back up. But everything with Satoru was hard, and this was no different. You should have been used to this.

Eventually, you do get yourself together. Sad, but you’re functioning. You go back to work and you continue with your daily life. Satoru’s never really been a part of your daily routine after the 3rd year of being married to him. It was no different not seeing him at all, but it was just the fact that he truly wasn't there anymore. If you were to call his cell, it would just ring on your dresser in your room and go to voicemail. Sometimes, you wait for the voicemail just to hear his voice, but most times you stay away from his contact. You’re recovering, just slowly.

People at work send their condolences, just like they did when they found out you divorced Gojo Satoru. They give you a pitiful look and tell you to be strong, but when they think you’re not listening they bash Satoru for passing and still putting the responsibility of carrying his will out on his ex wife—you. You don’t defend him nor does what they say settle well with you. They’re right, of course. Gojo Satoru has always been selfish, up until his last breath, but you just can’t seem to feel validated when you’re the one who buried Gojo Satoru. He was once your whole world, how could you just completely numb yourself to the pain of losing your connection with him, absolutely and completely?

Apparently, you’re the only person on his will too. You inherit everything of his one day, and it’s kind of overwhelming. All of his money is transferred to your bank account, all his belongings, everything is yours. You don’t even know what to do with most of it. You don’t even want to look and use anything of his. So you store most of his things in a box and label it “Satoru,” along with the other things that you took from his apartment, and you make an account to store all his money in, for what? You don’t know, just something.

When you're older, you’ll come to realize that you made Satoru a loved person until the very end, and that you were perhaps the only person that he still had love for, even if you weren’t his wife anymore. This is why Satoru loved you so much, and yes, he got very lucky with you, you will give yourself that. But you also won’t feel so bitter about having to be the person to handle his departure because you made sure to do just the way he wanted it, by you. for now, you’ll miss him lots and bring him flowers whenever the time comes. You won’t call him your ex-husband, but your late-husband. You keep some of his clothes to wear like you used to. You still sleep on your side of the bed, leaving the space Satoru used to fill empty for him. Life goes on the way it used to.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

On the language debate, I personally headcanon that the main language spoken at NRC is a common one. (?) (Like how English is the business language, or like how generally Native Americans had a common language that they spoke when trading with other tribes.) And Crowley or the Mirror used magic so that You was temporary fluent in that language.

After the ceremony, Yuu has to learn the common language and picks it up really fast (as one would in such a situation). Therefore, Yuu can still speak it when away from NRC.

(I also headcanon English as an ancient language akin to Latin, because I heard that Arabic was canonically an ancient language.)

[Referencing this post!]

I’d buy that everyone at NRC speaks the common language to some level of proficiency; it’s like how international students typically need to speak the language of whichever country they hope to study in and need to prove their fluency in an exam beforehand. As I said in the original post, the light novel does mention a translation spell over the school, so maybe that’s part of the “magic” that helps Yuu to understand what the others are saying.

Now, it’s theoretically possible for Yuu to learn the common language of Twisted Wonderland in a year, but I don’t think immersion alone would cut it (especially since the main story is only up to like 2/4 to 3/4 of a year so far) . They’d probably have to put in significant effort outside of everyday conversations to pick up its rules (because remember that language isn’t just vocabulary but also grammar, syntax, and social conventions). Yuu would also need consistent feedback from people since that’s how one usually “fixes” their incorrect language use. It’s similar to how adults would correct a child learning their first language; ie a kid says “wadur” instead of “water”.)

One site I looked at suggested that, depending on the language categorization (I, II, III, of IV), it can take 24-92 weeks’ worth of time to become an “advanced” speaker. Realistically, just getting to the basic conversational level could be hundreds or thousands (700-2500+) of hours on its own—and Yuu has to do this on their own time between homework, going to classes, and managing all the issues that Crowley doesn’t 💀 To me, that doesn’t sound like a lot of free time. Counterpoint to my own point though, we also have to consider that Yuu is... well, technically Yuu can be any age you want, but most Yuus are implied or portrayed to be 16-18. The critical window for language acquisition is theorized to be anywhere from the first three years of life up to as late as 17-18 years. After this critical window, the ability for language development tapers off. So, thinking about that, Yuu's brain could still be very pliable and able to absorb new language (though they'd have to work quite intensely to pack in as much as they can before this ability starts to decline).

Something that I feel would be difficult for Yuu is that the characters often use slang (Cater, Floyd, Idia, etc.) and/or uncommon words (like Vil’s “pulchritude”). The former may not follow the standardized rules of a language or may be idioms (other non-literal meanings for common words), which could make it hard for a non-native speaker to understand. The latter would not be used that often, so Yuu would be forced to guesstimate what the word means. I’d imagine this would make fluency challenging, because as immersed as Yuu is in Twisted Wonderland, less frequently used words are harder to grasp.

Maybe Crowley cast a translation spell ON Yuu so that they can still converse with people in the common tongue whenever they leave NRC? Or, since the events basically occur in an AU, more than a year has passed so it has allowed Yuu more time to absorb the language. Language in TWST and how it works… It’s really interesting to think about!

[captainofthedauntless]

Integration

Bayverse Donatello x Reader imagine

Info + Warnings: Donatello finds himself all over your life. No gendered language, pronouns, or Y.N used for Reader, but they use Spotify. Friends-to-lovers type beat. Set a few years after OOTS.

Commentary: While it's not strictly necessary reading, this is the sequel to Glow in the Dark, and is set to this playlist.

Donatello has always prided himself on his observational skills.

He notices things other people don't. He recognizes patterns, he collects data, he observes.

It's why Leo turns to him first for mission analysis.

It's why April sends him documents to proof-read.

It's how he fixes codes that refuse to work and reverse engineers biological weapons and is able to turn scraps into functioning gear.

He sees.

Especially when he's already interested in what he's looking at.

Which is why, in the middle of the night, he glances at your activity in his Spotify sidebar.

It's just in his nature.

He does it every now and again- well, okay, every time he opens Spotify- and it's become a bit of a game for him, to try and hone in on your music taste and then casually send you very casually considered recommendations.

He's the most casual turtle alive, everyone knows that.

Sometimes, he spots you playing a song he's given you, and he gets a dorky little smile on his face as he alt-tabs his way back to work.

This time, it's a song he'd given you months back- StarWaves, off of the Oblivion soundtrack, by M83- and just as his lips quirk up and his fingers find his keyboard, he notices something else.

Just below the song, he spots the playlist title.

It's a purple heart emoji.

He hesitates, hand over keys, eyes lingering on his screen.

His timing is fantastic, because the song changes. Little Dark Age by MGMT, which he'd sent you when he last updated the surveillance system- still on purple heart emoji.

This is why science is such a comfort to him- it ties all of those constant observations to something concrete, makes them matter. Observation alone means nothing; study gives him structure.

This means nothing.

But further study- tabbing back and forth between his latest project and Spotify every three-or-so minutes, noting song after song that he remembers giving you- suggests that the purple heart emoji means him.

It makes his heart do something dizzy in his chest, to think that you've tucked his suggestions somewhere safe. That you've taken them with open hands and set them in a display case.

That you make use of them.

It's not even a week later when you come into the lair with a smile and your computer bag over your shoulders and bags of take out in your hands. You set your phone and keys on his desk, both tangled in your headphones, and head off to dole out food, and he can hear a Phantogram song heavy in the earbuds.

Another one of his, he notes happily.

You come back a few minutes later, a tired and amused expression on your face as you offer him his food.

"I take it Mikey found you," Donnie says in wry, fond amusement, and he's rewarded by a little snort of laughter.

"He did," You respond, setting your own food on the desk- next to your things- and shimmying your bag off your shoulder. "I swear, it's like you all let that guy starve when I'm not here."

"He does a lot of things when you're not here. Starve is not one of them."

He almost misses your response- "Tell that to him, he nearly tackled me for his lo mein!"- because something green catches the light of his computer and, in turn, catches his eye.

It's a little piece of circuit board.

One you'd helped him pull out of a haul of scrap tech, and once he'd deemed that piece useless you'd made a joke about it making a cute keychain.

He'd taken an old soldering iron and melted a hole in the corner, threading a keyring through it, and passed it to you before you left.

It was mostly a joke. You'd been joking. He'd just tapped in and taken the bit to the next level.

And the joke was somehow still in one piece, hanging off your computer bag.

It makes his heart do something fluttery in his chest, to think that you carried that silly (warm, safe, delightful) memory around with you.

It's nearly two weeks after that when he climbs in your window in the early part of the night, a little earlier than he should probably be out, with a bag of snacks hanging from his elbow.

You're in front of your TV, flicking through movie options, and he intentionally scuffs his shoe in the doorway to make sure you know he's there.

He somehow still isn't prepared for the way you tilt your head back to smile at him in greeting.

"I know it's kinda warm out, but I made hot cocoa," You say sweetly. "I got marshmallows on sale, so..."

"I brought those chips you like," He responds, slipping the bag to his palm and holding it up as though you can see through it.

"You're the best!" You chirp, slipping off the couch and leading him to the kitchen.

You already have two mugs set out, filled to the brim with marshmallows- he assumes there's cocoa beneath them somewhere, but has little proof from just looking at them.

One mug is your favorite, the one you've been using as long as he's known you.

The other is new.

It's dark purple and large, with an oversized handle. About the same size as the one he probably left on his desk when he left the lair. Large enough to comfortably fit his hand, he suspects.

It nearly stops him in his tracks.

"What is it?" You ask.

"Is this new?" He asks in place of an answer, nodding at the drinks.

"The mug?" You're using that carefully nonchalant voice you use whenever you do something nice. The one that usually obscures a lot of time and effort. "Yeah, found it at that antiques place I told you about. The one with the iron giraffe by the door?"

He remembers.

"It's- pretty," He says haltingly, trying to keep himself in a logical, reasonable headspace.

It isn't a big deal. It's a mug.

(It feels big. Feels huge. Feels like he's going to suddenly collapse under his own emotional weight and leave a black hole in your kitchen where he had been.)

(It's you adapting to his- and his brothers', he reminds himself sharply, trying to stay in the realm of reasonable and unimpacted- quirks and needs. It's you accommodating him in your own home. It's his color. He thinks his unwieldy feelings for you grow a size right here, standing in your kitchen.)

"I thought so," You agree lightly, your back to him as you grab bowls. "Thought you might like it. Thought maybe it would be nice to have one here. For you."

Reasonable is rapidly becoming less and less realistic as his heart skips a beat. There's weight in your words, despite your best efforts- he's more sure than ever than you'd set out to find this mug, that this had been a mission for you.

You never act this casually about something you're actually casual about.

"Vank- er, very nice," He stumbles over his words, slowing down to enunciate. "Thank you."

You shrug, turning to him with the bowls, eyes trained on them. "Since I like having you here, might as well, like, make it easier for you, huh?"

He's glad, in a way, that he's green. When he blushes, it's a lot more subtle on him than it is on somebody like Casey.

(He hopes you're not feeling particularly observant.)

"Being here is easy," He says quickly, a confession he hadn't really meant to make.

It's simultaneously huge and just-the-surface.

Being around you is easy.

You look up now, eyes meeting his with a searching look, and you smile. "I'm glad," You say, that weight still in your voice, some extra, unknown thing just beyond his ability to figure out. Then it shifts, and you're more smirking than smiling, and the air shifts from uncertain warmth to a familiar playfulness. "That means you can easily pick a movie. I'm sick of looking."

He stays long after the credits roll, listening as you look up tidbits about the movie and the cast and how the effects were done. He's on your couch, one leg crossed beneath the other as he angles his body to you and rests an arm over the back (staying very carefully on his side, thank you).

He chimes in as you read out trivia ("I'm pretty sure that should be lucis, but my Latin's a little rusty." "You're right, according to this. Wonder if that was an error or a stylistic choice?") and laughs as you stop mid-sentence to re-read twice because something is so littered with typos that you can't immediately tell what it's saying.

Neither of you look at the clock.

You finish the chips he brought, and you make popcorn, and the two of you finish that, too.

The movie trivia gives way to a story about your friend's dog, and the laughter from that flows into him telling a similar story about Mikey as a child- because apparently, chewing on skateboards is a more common behavior than he'd thought- which shifts into you showing him the meme Mikey had sent you earlier in the day.

Mikey'd sent it to him, too, but he didn't mention it. He let himself lean into your bubble to half-look at your phone, just to be near you.

When he finally gets home- late, very late, the sun's already planning its ascent- he's grateful that everyone seems to be asleep.

Until he hears a throat clear behind him and he winces.

"Hi, Donnie," Leo says, knowing and smug and making Donnie stifle a groan.

Leo asks how you are.

"Good," He says simply, turning and holding his oldest brother's gaze. "We had lots to catch up on."

"Clearly," Leo says, a clear undertone of teasing.

Donnie resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm glad you had a good time," Leo says, teasing fading from his voice, leaving an earnest tone in its place as he bumps a fist into Donnie's shoulder. "Just let me know next time movie night turns four movies long, yeah? Keeping your dinner safe from Mikey isn't my idea of a good time."

Don can feel the blood in his cheeks again. He hadn't meant to stay so long- disrupting your sleep schedule isn't his idea of a good time- but it just... was easy. "Yeah. Will do."

Leo nods and smiles and takes his mug- strong green tea, if Don's nose is to be believed- towards his room.

Donatello exhales softly. He'd expected worse-

"Oh, Donnie," Leo calls playfully, "Mike's come up with several new songs including "k-i-s-s-i-n-g", so I'd brace myself for a musical breakfast."

This time, Donnie does groan, not bothering to respond as Leo chuckles and leaves.

He eats the dinner Leo'd kept guarded- pasta with meatballs, cold, because Donnie thinks that if the microwave wakes either of his other brothers and he has to deal with them before he sleeps he's going to ask you if he can just live on your couch- before shuffling into his lab and flopping into the chair at his workbench.

He leans back into the chair, stretching his neck out with a soft groan before his eyes land on the little glass sun hanging above him.

He watches it for a moment, a soft smile creeping onto his face.

Then he stretches out- too lazy, too tired to get up- and flicks the lights off.

The sun glows, and it looks almost as bright as his heart feels, and he feels himself sink fully into the chair and memories of you and the unwieldy, bright feelings you spark in his chest.

After a few minutes in comfortable, sweet silence, he shifts forwards and boots his computer up.

Just for some music.

Work will have to wait until he gets some sleep. You'd be livid if he jumps in now.

He pulls up Spotify and his eyes go to the sidebar out of muscle memory more than conscious effort.

Your username is the first on the list, right above a purple heart.

He lets out a little laugh, a you-shaped feeling turning bubbly and warm behind his ribs.

Deciding you have the right idea, he pulls up Random Access Memories and hits play on his favorite track, letting the bass softly fill the room and enjoying the feeling of it beneath his fingers as he quickly types out the few ideas he'd had while at your place.

He's asleep before the song ends, face buried in his forearms on the desk.

[factual-fantasy]

I know you probably won't continue this since it's been almost two years but recently I saw your Submas comic again with Emmet somehow ending up in Hisui with the help of Celebi and reuniting with his brother but also getting the consequences of his actions/neglect in taking care of himself (also probably Hisui being harsh to his already weakened state)

I imagined how it could continue (not written down anywhere just living rent free in the brain of yours truly) and I feel like sharing it with you since you inspired me:

We left off as Ingo weeps in front of Emmet sleeping... After he wakes up from his weeping Ingo and Sneasler reluctantly leave as Emmet has no signs of regaining consciousness or improving. Something tells Ingo that what his brother needs might be back in their original time with much better health care.

Similar to him Ingo seeks out Dialga and Palkia begging them to help him save his brother. They have just reunited and he doesn't dare to think what happens if Emmet doesn't get the treatment he needs.

Celebi is also still around and Ingo makes the decision to return to the future to help save Emmet. Sacrificing everything just like he did.

[off screen he makes his good byes get's one of Sneaslers Eggs as a parting gift and they return back to the future]

Next time we cut to the twins it's in the hospital when Emmet regains consciousness. Half awake he is distraught first because being in hospital means it was all a dream and he is all alone again. Waterworks start until he notices a presence by his bedside. Ingo. Totally exhausted and seemingly recently fallen asleep. Waterworks start even harder because Ingo is right there. It was real after all. Ingo awakes and wakes up and they hug and weep.

the end

----

I know you're not fond of fanworks of your fanworks so I don't know if you even like this stupid little idea (also if you even remember the fanart and all that from way back when) I don't plan on sharing this anywhere outside to you. Take it if you want or leave and delete it. I just felt like sharing it with you since you inspired me.

I just want to say thank you because even after all this time your few works of art for submas fill me with joy and I smile each time I scroll past them on my dashboard. All your artworks are simply amazing and I know that you definitely make so many people happy with your content. Keep doing what you love because you do awesome! Take care and thank you for reading this far into this long message.

Awwee!! This is so sad yet adorable at the same time!! 😭😭😭 What a sweet way to wrap up Ingo and Emmets journey! :}}

And thank you so much! I'm so glad to hear that you liked my submas stuff and that it's inspired you! Even though I didn't draw much for it.. 😅 Perhaps someday when I'm feeling better I'll get back around to submas again.. 👀👀

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Do you think Snape stopped being a bigot by the time canon rolled around or do you think he still thought of muggleborns as inferior but didn't act on it cause he was always around Dumbledore?

We know his love for Lily won't change anything, Lily herself points out how Snape's completely fine with calling every muggleborn but her a "mudblood" and even participated in bullying them. He sees Lily as an exception so there's no guarantee that even her death would change his views on the rest.

He probably never outright voices it because he's tied himself to Dumbledore, but that doesn't mean he can't still hold those bigoted views deep down.

His treatment and bullying of Hermione doesn't make him look good either. Yes, she's an overzealous know-it-all who annoyed Snape, but I wonder if that was simply it or if his bullying of her was motivated by blood prejudice as well.

As far as I remember, there's nothing in canon that proves Snape is still a bigot, but there's nothing that disproves it either. Thoughts?

Honestly we aren't really told anything about his opinions about muggleborns and muggles during the books. If I had to guess, I'd say his opinions didn't change much. Lily was always an exception, so I don't think her death would change his opinion on muggleborns as a whole.

We see this outlook with Slughorn too:

“Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. Couldn’t believe it when I found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good.” “One of my best friends is Muggle-born,” said Harry, “and she’s the best in our year.” “Funny how that sometimes happens, isn’t it?” said Slughorn. “Not really,” said Harry coldly.

(HBP, 70)

He knows some muggleborns are brilliant and talented (like Lily and Hermione) but he considers them exceptions, not the common muggleborn. The perfect special muggleborn. The talented ones he cares about.

I think Snape is a little similar, if for completely different reasons. Slughorn looks down on muggleborns because of how unfamiliar with the muggle world he is. He's a pure-blood who was raised to think muggleborns have lower chances of being talented and exceptional.

Snape, on the other hand, has something very different going on in his head. I think he also has this tendency to look down on muggleborns, and he always had, but not for the same reason as Slughorn. In Snape's case, it comes from his hatred of muggles. Snape hates his father and the circumstances of his upbringing. He probably holds some resentment towards his mother for staying and raising him in a poor and abusive environment. And, it's not like Snape's mother was overly involved in his life either, he was allowed to just run around the streets alone since he was seven (or younger) and that was pretty much it.

Snape associated the muggle world with pain, humiliation, and neglect. And while the Wizarding World wasn't free of pain and humiliation, it was better. The Wizarding World came with magic, the ability to at least have a chance to defend himself, a chance at belonging (we Lucius except Snape into Slytherin easily when he arrives), and pride. Snape is an incredibly talented wizard and he knows it, and takes great pride in it.

So the wizard side of things was always the better one for him. The one he preferred to associate himself with (calling himself the "Half-Blood Prince" is an example of that). And I think his outlook on muggles and muggleborns is still somewhat colored by this even as an adult.

I think it did tone down since his youth, I don't think he's as extreme as he was when he joined the Death Eaters as a teenager, but I think he's still prejudiced against muggles and muggleborns (more muggles than muggleborns though), at least to a degree. I mean, these sorts of outlooks don't just change overnight. So, while I think Snape isn't advocating for muggleborns registration anymore, he still looks down on them and expects less of them, like, a subtler sort of prejudice.

I think Snape's bullying of Hermione is mostly for her know-it-all attitude, being friends with Harry, and being a Gryffindor (a whole different prejudice). But I think there is a little muggleborn prejudice in there too. I don't think it's the main issue he takes with her, but, like I said, it's unlikely he just completely got over it.

And, we see that looking down on muggles and muggleborns is pretty common in the wizarding world as I mentioned with Slughorn and while Dumbledore wouldn't be happy if Snape called muggleborns "mudbloods" he himself is just as prejudiced against muggles. He looks down on them like all of the wizarding world does, in subtler ways than the Death Eaters. So Snape probably wouldn't make an active effort to change his opinions. Even the Weasleys look down on muggles:

“Are they doctors?” he asked Ron quietly. “Doctors?” said Ron, looking startled. “Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they’re Healers.”

(OotP, 484)

“Are all your family wizards?” asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him. “Er — Yes, I think so,” said Ron. “I think Mom’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.”

(PS, 73)

All wizards, even the more muggle-accepting ones are pretty prejudiced, it's that ingrained into their culture. So much so that Hermione stopped talking about her parents even to her friends, the Weasleys' squib cousin is never mentioned, and confounding or obliviating muggles is considered harmless even though we saw it can cause harm even to wizards (Lockheart). The wizarding world is a very prejudiced place even if you don't go around shouting slures. So I think Snape still holds this baseline level of looking down on muggles and muggleborns their whole world seems to practice, but he isn't advocating for their registration and death anymore either.

[dangermousie]

I almost never do modern cdramas, but two eps in, Tender Light is AMAZING and is very likely to be added to a vanishingly small number of moderns I love (though it's set in 2000 so maybe not so modern?)

This is dark and grinding in a way few modern cdramas I've seen are. These are unhappy people in a small town, desperate, prejudiced, mean, or a combo thereof. Nothing is slick or easy or Polyanna.

The story is set in motion when a beautiful woman, Nan Ya, murders her husband. She claims he was abusive and this was self-defense as he tried to murder her, and the new detective in town looks into this.

What strikes me so much is how unsparingly the people's attitude is shown. Almost nobody is neutral, let alone sympathetic to her. Nan Ya is too pretty, too flashy, she doesn't fit in but also it is all of course her fault - everyone knows she sleeps with men for money say some (clearly salivating over the possibility,) why would her husband beat her - she had to have cheated or something, he is so charming to everyone else say a bunch of others, "he never beat ME" says an ex, she shouldn't have provoked him say ALL.

Even the policeman in charger prior to the new guy wants to treat her as an unrepentant murderer because what self-defense, this looks dumb for his record and also the man is the head of the family, she was trouble etc etc.

Zhang Xincheng's character is about the sole town dweller we see express sympathy - he witnessed the murder but he's also seen the abuse. He's not even saying she should get off or not - as he puts it, the law can determine this - but he sees her as human and as justified and her husband as a monster. He's the only one who does not see her as a flashy weird siren but a woman with burdens - a person. But perhaps it's because he also doesn't fit in - he is also subject of rumors and gossip because he came back from university to retake a year and he can't be gooooood if he did that, can he? Clearly anything away from the 100% norm is judged harshly.

(There are also little touches like his lying to the cop about his timeline and you think it's some big deal but no it's him being in a computer chatroom wishing people across the world happy new year on a board for that, as it gets to 2000, but it's a foreign chatroom and he doesn't want the computer lab owner to be in trouble. It's realistic and dramas rarely do that.)

Anyway, this is vvvvvv good so far. As I was telling @aysekira this is very much BBC prestige show in vibe but very very much a cdrama.