#IM SO TIRED OF EXPLAINING EVERY TINY STEP OF MY PROCESS

[juuria]

god, in the next life, please let me be born in the late 80s in california so i can go to animation school like calarts and work on powerpuff girls or my little pony and be a hipster in 2010s thank you!!!!!!

[neon-junkie]

Five-oh-Thirst

Summary: The 501st boys have finally reached their breaking point; they just HAVE to have you, and Jesse makes it his mission to recruit you into their shenanigans. After a night out at 79's, you're spoilt by a handful of Troopers, and a Captain who's late to the party.

Pairing: Female Jedi Reader x Rex, Jesse, Fives, Kix, Hardcase, Dogma & Tup

Word count: 12k

Tags: Shameless smut, Gangbang, Drinking, Double penetration, Praise kink, Voyeurism, Military names, Aftercare, Morning after pill.

Notes: this is so fucking slutty and i loved writing every second of it >:) sorry if some of the boys are a little OOC, im still new to writing these hotties. Tumblrs formatting is shite, so i’d suggest reading this on AO3 (under the same username.)

To say that you're 'close' with the 501st is an understatement. Close isn't quite the word you could use to describe the bond you have with this boisterous bunch of clones. You may be their Commander, but you're also a friend, and soon to be a lover. You've had your fair share of drunken nights out with the lot, getting rowdy in 79's, dragging each other's asses home, falling asleep in cuddle piles in their barracks. Yes, you shouldn't be mingling like this with your squad, but it's hard to not get so attached.

Anakin has warned you over and over about both your attachment and feelings, but you've seen the way he talks to them, Rex specifically. Anakin has let his emotions lead him whenever his men are hurt or in danger, and maybe that's why he always gives you a wink during his lectures. He knows what it's like, and he's only attempting to follow the Jedi code, teaching you in the process.

Speaking of Jedi codes, apparently rocking up to the Jedi cruiser bridge with a cup of caf in hand is something to be frowned upon. What? you're tired, and it's not like Anakin has asked his men to get him a cup of caf before. Obi-wan has done this exact same thing also! So, because you're a Padawan, you're not allowed to do it? Sheesh. The hypocrisy.

Despite Anakins disproving glare, the briefing continues flawlessly, as does the mission. Luck must have been on your side, or the force, depending on what you believe in. The Separatists crawled away with their tails between their legs, leaving the planet Naboo alone once more.

A course is set for Coruscant, and the Jedi cruiser launches into hyperspace, taking roughly seven hours to return home. That time is yours to do as you please, and you decide that a nap is in order.

Walking to your quarters takes a good ten minutes, seeing as how large this cruiser is. You travel down an array of corridors, having Troopers stop and salute you as you pass. It's a touching gesture, but sometimes you hate being the centre of attention. You understand that, to the clones, it's a sign of respect, one that they hold dearest in their hearts; you tried to get them to stop once, and only insulted them in the process, so you swiftly gave up and let them continue.

One Trooper in particular calls out your name from behind, and you rotate to see ARC Trooper Jesse approaching, his helmet tucked under his arm, and his other hand salutes you as he approaches. "Commander, do you have a minute?"

"For you, Jesse? Always," you say with a smile.

That smile is mirrored right back at you, and Jesse gestures for you to step down a quiet corridor to talk in private. He doesn't speak up at first, scratching the back of his neck nervously, but you allow him to take his time. Whatever's on the tip of his tongue must be really important.

"Commander, this is a... strange request to make," Jesse begins, and looks for your approval before continuing.

"Go on."

"Well, the boys and I were talking... and uh, you know how we like to de-stress by going to 79's?" Jesse mutters, keeping his voice quiet.

"Yes?" you question, nodding at the same time.

"And by de-stress, we like to... you know, pick up women there," Jesse shrugs, avoiding eye contact as he speaks.

Something in your gut informs you that you know what's coming next, and it explains why Jesse is stalling his request so much. You continue nodding as he speaks, squinting your eyes ever so slightly, suspicious of where this is heading.

"We've been uh, wanting to invite... you along, but we're not sure if that follows your erm, codes?" Jesse pulls the most panicked expression as he finally spits the words out. You think you know what he's asking, but you'll need to dig a little deeper, just to be certain.

"Going to 79's in the first place is against my Code... I think?" you reply, uncertain on what the Jedi code says about nightclubs and getting drunk with clones. "I thought you would know by now that I bend the rules in my favour, without others knowing, of course."

"Oh, that's a relief," Jesse sighs, and removes his hand from his neck. "I mean, you shouldn't, but we all break some rules here and there, don't we?"

"Yeah," you say with a shrug. "What exactly are you asking from me, Jesse? Be clear with your words, Trooper," you order in a teasing manner, noticing how the tip of Jesse's ears turn pink at your words.

"How about... the next time we all go out for drinks, we... take you back instead of some random woman?"

Oh.

There's a heated knot in your stomach, twisting and turning at the thought of sleeping not only with Jesse, but a handful of men. They're all attractive in their own unique ways, and you applaud them for how they create their individuality, through hairstyles, facial hair, and tattoo's. Not only does it make them easier to identity, but it really helps express their personality, and how they may act on the battlefield.

And the thought of having a bunch of these handsome men taking care of you? Who would say no to that?

"Who do you mean by 'we'?" you question out of curiosity.

"Uh, well, it depends on who comes out with us. I mean, all the boys have spoken about it, and all of them are down," Jesse shrugs, and rubs the back of his neck once more.

They've spoken about this? All of them? You must be quite the catch.

"Why? Is there someone you want to avoid?" Jesse then questions, and you instantly shake your head in response.

"No, I'm just curious. I... didn't know you all felt that way towards me," you sheepishly reply, and Jesse flashes you a concerned expression.

"You're kidding me, right? Have you noticed the way we all speak to you? The way we are around you? Even General Skywalker has told us multiple times to cool it," Jesse nervously laughs, clutching his helmet tighter.

You laugh with him, your mind replaying many incidents where the boys have let it slip. Kix has made multiple inappropriate jokes as he's been patching you up. Hardcase is always offering his lap as a seat whenever you're at 79's, and that's an offer that you may need to finally take up. Dogma will attempt to follow the code, but you've caught him staring at your ass more than once. Fives is Fives, and that's all that needs to be said. And Tup is too shy to make any bold moves, but you can tell he has a soft spot for you, as his face turns bright red whenever you're within ten feet of him.

As for Rex and Jesse, they flirt when it's appropriate, meaning when they're not in earshot of General Skywalker.

"Now that you mention it..." your words trailing off, thinking about all those moments.

"See," Jesse points. "So, are you in?" he questions, scrunching his face up in fear of rejection.

"As long as you boys can share," you instruct, knowing what they're like. "I'm in."

Jesse fist pumps the air as he lets out a "yesss!" but swiftly attempts to cool it, trying to not let his excitement burst. "I'll let the men know. We were planning on heading out tonight?" Jesse offers.

"I'll be there," you smile. "Make sure you and your men look good for me, Trooper," you playfully order.

"Of course, Commander," Jesse nods, and allows you to end the conversation there. If you're going out later, then you definitely need that nap right now. Jesse lands a cheeky slap on your bum as you turn to walk off, and you flash him a smile over your shoulder, heading down the corridor to your quarters.

----------

Could this be considered a date? or just an arranged hookup with a bunch of men? Either way, you're using the night as an excuse to dress up, not that you need an excuse to begin with.

That nap does wonders for you, although it could be considered more of a sleep, since as you woke up, you were arriving back on Coruscant. It's mid-afternoon, giving you plenty of time to get ready for tonight. Upon arrival, you take a trip downtown to purchase something to wear for tonight, and you have just the right outfit in mind.

The dress is ever-so-slightly out of your price range, but you know it'll be worth it. The 501st take pride in their colour, blue, and you know their jaws will drop when they see you in their colour. The dress fits the way you like it, bold and flashy, enough to turn more than your legion's heads. You pair the dress with some white heels and a bag, Trooper colours all around; you're really milking it, but Maker, don't you look good!

Hours later and you're ready for tonight, checking yourself out in your apartment mirror. You're fortunate to have your own place outside of the Jedi temple; it's tiny and run down, but enough to get you away whenever you need it. Sadly, it's far too small to fit a handful of clones in, so the barracks will have to do.

One taxi later, and you're outside 79's, queueing up to enter the busy club. Happy hour has just begun as you enter, and you remove the comlink from your bag, pressing a button to inform your men that you've arrived.

Nervously, you gaze around the club, ignoring the random sets of eyes on you. You're only after one group of men, and thankfully, one of them approaches you.

"Commander?" Kix calls out. As you turn to look at him, his face lights up, gesturing to the outfit you're wearing. "Oh, Commander!" Kix sighs, gawking over the sight of you in his legions colours.

"Not too much?" you question, gesturing to the outfit.

"No, it's just right," Kix sighs yet again. "And I like the white heels and bag, nice touch!"

Of course Kix has noticed those minor details.

"Where are the others?" you question, and Kix offers you his arm in response. You take it, following Kix through the club, eventually coming across a cosy booth, full to the brim with your boys.

Kix's reaction to your outfit was sweet and wholesome, something you'd expect from him. Fives on the other hand is hollering like a dog as you approach, checking you out with a whistle, doing everything he can to hype you up. "Commander," he purrs, and wraps an arm around your waist. "Here for me?" he jokingly questions, making you laugh at his forwardness.

"She came here for all of us!" Dogma butts in, swatting at Fives's hand around your waist.

"Oh, so you are joining in, Dogma? I didn't think you were one to break the rules," Fives bites back, and gestures for you to take a seat as he talks.

"This is different, Fives," Dogma mutters. You zone out to their bickering as you shuffle around the booth, finding a seat between Hardcase and Tup.

Tup, like the sweetheart he is, quietly tells you "you look beautiful," with flushed cheeks. Only for Hardcase to add "yeah, you look hot!"

It's hard to believe that these men are all clones. Their reactions are so vast, but they all express the same thing - you look good, and no doubt, they're going to be all over you tonight. They look just as good as you do, maybe even better; they've dressed up for tonight, sporting fine button-up shirts, all of them looking clean and tidy, for once, not covered in dirt from the battlefield.

Jesse offers to buy your first round, and insists that you stay at the booth with the others. He probably fears that another batch of clones will latch onto you the second you stand up. Are the men in here aware that you're a Jedi? Or do they assume you're some poor, unfortunate soul, who's been sucked into spending the night with this bunch? You're hoping for the second assumption, as the last thing you want is some tattle-tale clone recognizing you and ratting you out to the Jedi order.

Jesse returns with your drink and a round of shots, and so, the night begins. The shot is surprisingly nice, as is your drink, but the next set of shots? Eh, not so much. It seems that the more you drink, the worst the shots taste, and you have to turn down the fourth one. You're not going to be standing if you continue chugging drinks at this rate; how your men can drink like this is beyond you.

Dogma and Tup have relaxed in their own way, joining in the conversation every so often, although Dogma is still being teased for 'breaking so many rules.' Hardcase and Fives are as loud as each other, and are currently attempting to impress you through a series of arm wrestling matches. Jesse seems content, on a nice, tipsy level, and has had his eyes on you all night. Kix is simply vibing, not visibly drunk, but bubblier than usual.

You continue peering around, questioning who's missing, and then it suddenly dawns on you.

"Wait a minute! Where's Rex?" you yelp, noticing the lack of a certain blonde clone.

"You've got all of us here, and the only man on your mind is the Captain?" Fives tuts, breaking his concentration from the arm wrestling match. Hardcase takes up the opportunity to take victory, slamming Fives's hand down onto the table.

"Yet again, I am victorious!" Hardcase states, and Fives sputters at his remark.

"That's not fair! Our Commander was asking us a question," Fives argues, and the pair begin bickering between themselves.

You decide to intervene, turning to Hardcase and asking "so, what would you like as your prize?"

Your question is met with a sea of "oooh!"'s and "pick something good, Hardcase!" His face alone is priceless, his emotions switching between shocked, flustered, and cheeky. Hardcase then trails into thought, and after barely any thinking time, he settles on his prize. "For you to finally take up my offer and sit on my lap, sweetheart," he replies, patting his thighs as he talks.

A smirk escapes your lips as you stand, shuffling over to sit on the tattooed clones lap. Hands find their way to your waist, and you're almost certain that Hardcase is purring as he cuddles up to you.

"How is she?" Kix questions, as if you're not sitting in earshot of his question.

"Comfiest ass in the galaxy," Hardcase hums, pulling you higher onto his lap as he speaks. He settles his chin on your shoulder, fine stubble pressed against your skin, and from the expressions of those around you, you can tell that they're all jealous. They'll have their time with you eventually, whether it's here, or at the barracks later. The night is still young.

"My turn," Dogma announces out of nowhere, shuffling out of the booth. None of you have any idea what he's on about, until he turns to you and asks "what are you drinking, Commander?"

You tell him your order, followed up with "and stop calling me Commander! We're not at work, you don't need to call me that."

Dogma apologizes with a soft laugh before making his way over to the bar, followed by Jesse and Kix.

"Is it bad that I kinda like calling you it?" Fives questions, and you know exactly what he's implying.

"The only places you should be calling me Commander is on the battlefield, and in the bedroom," you purr, and you're met with a fawning, lustful expression from Fives, who is more than satisfied at your answer.

"Yes, Ma'am," he purrs back, and you take a mental note for later.

"You know, none of you answered my question," you begin, and the rest of the clones look at you in confusion. "Where is Rex?"

"He said he's busy with a meeting, and that he'll meet us at the barracks later," Fives explains, softly shrugging as he speaks. In Fives' eyes, that means one there's one less clone for you to give your attention to, meaning more for him.

"That's a shame," you sigh. The thought of Rex being here right now is a curious topic on your mind; would he attempt to maintain his high-ranking status, remaining professional despite knowing what's going to happen later? Or would he throw all of that out of the window, taking the first opportunity to straddle you onto his hips and remind his men who's in charge?

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll take good care of you whilst the Captain's gone," Hardcase smugly comments, placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he eyes you up.

Hardcase stays true to his word, as do the rest of your men. Dogma, Jesse, and Kix return shortly after with the next round of drinks, and lo-and-behold, more shots. You have entered the stage of tipsy, sitting on the drunken fence by the time you finish your drink. Hardcase offers to buy the next round, but you brush him off, insisting that it's your turn. "Since you're all taking care of me, the least I can do is return the favour," you explain, and a few of the men chuckle at your reasoning.

Tup, the sweetheart that he is, helps you up and over to the bar. You're able to walk, even in these heels, but you know that Tup's presence is actually a way of telling others clones that you're already taken for. To your surprise, his hand settles around your waist as you prop yourself up against the bar top, waiting for somebody to come and serve you.

"How's your night going?" Tup questions. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah, are you?" you reply with a nod, curling up into Tup's side.

"Mhm," Tup nods in agreement. "I just need a few more drinks down me," he adds, and you understand how he feels. If you weren't the centre of attention, then you'd be just as quiet as Tup is, shying away nervously in the cornerless booth.

"Let me get one for you," you offer, and Tup takes you up on it.

"Thank you, Comma- I mean, uh, love." Tup's expression turns sour, blushing at his fumbled reply. You brush the nerves off him by placing a kiss on his cheek, and watch in amazement as his face begins turning a different shade of red.

Tup mutters something to you, and you almost miss his words over the volume of the music. "You missed," he boldly states. Tup's definitely stolen that line from Fives, or has been taught it - either way, it's something Fives would say, and you know how close those two are.

"Oh?" you cheekily sigh. You're about to follow it up, until the bartender arrives, pulling your attention away from the clone.

Once your order is placed, you turn back to Tup, wanting to finish where you left off. He looks at you, then looks away, pulling an embarrassed face. Your fingertips are placed below Tup's chin, gently turning his head to face you, and before Tup can say anything, you lean in to kiss him.

Tup freezes up, before melting into the kiss, moving his head to fit against yours. A hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you there, as if to reassure himself that yes, this really is happening. Tup's kisses match his personality, sweet and gentle, but the tongue that slides across your lower lip suggests there's more to him than meets the eye.

You can overhear the sounds of cheering in the background, and you just know that it's coming from your men. You break away, not to be rude, but because you don't want the poor bartender to be stood there awkwardly as you're busy snogging a clone. Thankfully, they arrive moments later, and you two soon return to the booth with drinks and shots in hand.

Fives applauds his vod as Tup sheepishly sits down, and you go to take a seat beside him, until Jesse pulls you onto his lap. "You've had enough fun with him, come and give us some attention!" he playfully nips, and follows his statement up with a kiss on your neck.

"There's plenty of me to go around," you bite back, wiggling your hips slightly, grinding your ass on Jesse's lap. He sighs heavily at your move, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you there.

You turn your attention to the drinks that you just brought, downing yet another shot, and washing it down with your beverage.

Minutes later, and you're really starting to feel the liquor running through your veins, as well as the undying urge to dance. Jesse is willing, and Hardcase lets you two know that he'll meet you over there, once he's gone and used the refresher. The rest of the clones stay seated, to your surprise, but then again, they don't seem like the type to dance. Well, Fives possibly, but he's barely able to stand, let alone dance, and Kix is nursing him back to soberness with many glasses of water.

Jesse follows you over to the dance floor, your hand in his, and it's busier than you expected. The dance floor is mostly full of clones and their squadrons, all celebrating various victories and whatnot, with a few women lingering about. You understand by now that women only come to this bar to pick up the clones, and can you blame them? Bless the Kaminoans for picking out Jango Fett to be their donor, as his genetics are excelling in all departments.

"My turn with you already?" Jesse questions as he begins dancing with you, swaying in time with the music.

"We've only been here for a few hours. I thought you'd be more patient?" you tease, and Jesse gives you a look.

"I'm patient when I want to be, sweetheart," Jesse shrugs. "But for you? I've been waiting a long time for this," he explains as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

The tattooed clone smiles down at you, and the glisten in his eyes informs you that his patience truly is running thin. But how long will it be before it runs out? Or how much can you rile him up before he breaks?

"I'm sure you can wait a little longer," you flirt back, trailing your hand along his shirt, fingertips gliding over each of his buttons. You meet his collar and hook a finger over the fabric, gently pulling his head down to your level.

Jesse smirks as he replies "I don't think I can," before pressing his lips to yours. You can tell that Jesse's patience is running thin from the way he kisses you, hungry and lustful, playfully nipping at your lower lip. Your hands wrap around his neck, and you have to remind yourself that you left your bag with the others - that's why your hands are empty.

The hands on your waist trail down to your ass, and Jesse boldly grabs more than a handful, pulling your body tightly against his as he kneads your ass. You break the kiss with a yelp, and remind yourself that you're still in public, thankfully with no eyes set on you. "Jesse!" you playfully swat him, and he chuckles against your skin as his lips trail over your neck.

"You started without me!" A disappointed voice calls out, and warmth appears against your back.

Hardcase has returned from the refresher, pouting because the party has apparently started without him. Jesse moves his hands back to your waist, almost as if he's giving permission for Hardcase to press his crotch against your ass, sandwiching you between the two, tattooed clones. Your cheeks quickly turn red, and you must look more flustered than you feel, as the face that Hardcase and Jesse send each other informs you that they have something planned.

"So," Hardcase begins, his eyes flicking down to yours. "When are we taking you back?"

"Soon?" you nervously reply, questioning your own motives. It's hard to concentrate with an uneven sea turning in your stomach, but the liquor is thankfully helping - you'd be a lot more flustered if you were sober right now.

"Soon?" Jesse repeats, raising a brow at your reply. "Why not now, sweetheart?" he asks.

"Yeah," Hardcase nods, and then dips his head down to kiss along your neck. His kisses trail up to your ear, nipping at that sensitive spot behind it before stating "you look like you need us to fill you up."

A bold, yet true statement, but you're unsure if you want to leave just yet. Do you want to continue your teasing here? Or click your fingers and order your men to take you home and fuck you?

"She's thinkin' about it," Hardcase states, directing his words to Jesse.

"We know what you're thinking, babe, and we think that you've teased us enough already," Jesse says to you, and kneads his hands on your waist, picking and pulling at the fabric of your dress. Bold of him to assume what you're thinking - you're the Jedi here, not him. Either way, his thoughts are true. You have teased them enough, but there's no harm in drawing it out just a little longer, is there?

Jesse steals a kiss from you again, and you can feel him smiling as you let out a soft moan. Hardcase continues kissing up your neck, rutting his semi-hard cock against your ass; his lips wander down below your neckline, and he bites and sucks at your skin, leaving a purple blotch behind. It's in just the right place, an area where your Jedi robes will cover it up, but if you want to tease him on the battlefield, all you need to do is pull back at the thin layer of clothing, revealing his mark.

Just as Hardcase is about to kiss your neck again, a voice calls out "get a room!"

Oh yeah, you're doing all this on the dance floor of 79's. Whoops. Jesse pulls away and chuckles at the strangers remark. "See? Even he thinks we should get going," he states, and you finally agree to make a move.

Jesse leads you off the dance floor, and Hardcase keeps his hand comfortably around your waist. You wander back over to the booth, picking your drink up off the table and finishing it off. "It's time, boys!" Hardcase states, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh?" Fives looks over to you, flashing you a cheeky grin. It seems the many glasses of water on the table have finally brought him back to a stable level; Kudos to Kix for dealing with him.

Tup passes you your bag as he shuffles off the sofas, and you thank him by pulling him down for a quick kiss. You break away with a soft laugh as you hear Fives complain "where's mine, huh?"

"You can get it when we're in the taxi," you explain.

Fives swats Hardcase's arm from around your waist, replacing it with his own, and mouths the words "my turn," to Hardcase, who simply laughs at his eagerness. You and Fives take the lead, exiting the club with your squad following behind.

--------

The ride back to the barracks is... eventful, as is entering the barracks itself. Jesse and Kix walk ahead, pretending to be drunker than they actually are so they can distract the guards with their very existence. The rest of you sneak by, sheltered by a wall of horny clones, and you're ushered into their dorm.

The second you step foot into the room, Fives is all over you. With his hands on your hips, he leads you over to the wall, pushing you up against it and locking his lips with yours. Fives's hand trails up to grab your bag, pulling it from your grasp, and chucking it onto a nearby bed, leaving your hands free to wrap around his neck. He's impatient and needy, hungrily kissing you, his hands struggling to find a single place to rest; they slide over your waist, down your back, and grab at your ass, before trailing up and repeating the process all over again.

"Kriff, calm down. She's not going anywhere," one of his vods comments. Kix possibly?

Fives ignores the comment and continues turning your legs into jelly, making up for all his apparent 'lost time.' When he does finally pull away, he's grinning. His pupils are blown, full of lust, eyeing you up like a piece of meat, until somebody swats him away.

"I'm the one who proposed this to her, so I get first dibs," Jesse intervenes. There's something thrilling about the way they're speaking about you, as if you're not there, as if you're their property. In some ways, you are theirs - you have always been theirs - but only tonight have things finally taken a step forward.

Somebody has dimmed the lights, enough to set the mood, but still light enough that you can see what's happening, and so can everyone else. Everybody's watching as Jesse leads you over to what you assume is his bunk, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. Your knees fall onto either side of his hips, spreading your legs, your dress hiking up your thighs.

Jesse places his hands on your waist, holding you as his lips take over from where Fives left off. As he kisses you, he pulls down on your waist, grinding you over his semi-hard cock, reminding you of what's to come. You feel the hem of your dress slip up slightly over your ass, and one of the clones sighs at the small teaser.

Jesse knows what his vods are after, so his hands trail up your back, finding the zip. He slowly unzips your dress, taking his time to reveal what lies beneath, and breaks the kiss so he can pull your dress over your head, discarding it on the bunk next to him.

Needless to say, the air is filled with an array of praise, mutters and moans at the sight of you. You're straddling the ARC Trooper in your underwear and heels, now being freed of your bra. Jesse groans as your tits fall free, and moves his lips down your body, along your neck, over your collarbone, until he latches onto a nipple.

You feel something tug at your foot, and peer over your shoulder to see Hardcase removing your heels; he's polite (and sober) enough to place them down neatly, rather than tossing them to the floor, or worse, throwing them at his vods. Hardcase then stands up, peering over you, and prevents your lips from feeling lonely. He keeps your mouth occupied, whilst Jesse flicks between both of your tits, and both of them find their way to your panties.

"Need to get these off you," Hardcase mutters against your lips. Hardcase hooks his fingers around one strap, Jesse has the other, and the pair slowly slide them off you, moving with your body as you shuffle from Jesse's lap to remove them. You're left naked in a room full of your men, the men that have served under you for a few years now, but it seems that Jesse is the one taking the lead tonight.

"C'mere," Jesse mutters as he manhandles you off his lap. He shimmies around and lays down, his head at the foot of the bed, feet resting against his headboard. Jesse pats his shoulders before making grabby motions with his hands, signalling for you to climb aboard.

With one knee on either side of Jesse's face, you straddle him. Despite the alcohol still pumping through your system, you're still nervous, exposing yourself fully to your men. They're all reacting positively, a few of them palming themselves through their smart pants. Your nervousness doesn't stay for long, being brushed away as Jesse pulls your cunt down onto his face.

He licks a firm stripe over your pussy, followed by a few more curious ones, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. You yelp, instinctively grinding down on Jesse's face, and he seems to like it from the hum he lets out. "Kriff," you overhear one of the clones mutter, and you realize it's Fives when he pipes up with "go on, sweetheart. Fuck his face!"

Jesse nods against your cunt, and the squad seems eager for a show, so, why not?

Firm hands hold onto your thighs, steadying you as you begin rocking back and forth over Jesse's tongue. He's flattened it out nicely, and at this angle, you're able to brush your clit over the wet muscle, grinding oh-so-perfectly. The room is filled with soft words of encouragement, "that's it, doll," and "keep going for us!"

You feel bad that Jesse isn't receiving anything in return, so whilst sitting on his face, you begin unfastening his pants, eventually freeing his cock.

Oh, thank the Maker for those yummy Jango Fett genes.

Jesse is thick, leaking with precum, slightly red at the tip. If he's thick, then that means the rest of them are thick... you're in store for quite a treat.

With one hand barely wrapped around Jesse's cock, you begin pumping his already hard length, earning a whimper from the man beneath you. Your hips have slowed in pace, and Jesse urges you to speed up by grabbing your hips and moving them for you. He takes over, fucking you onto his face for a few moments before steadying your hips again, and wrapping his lips around your clit instead.

You yelp, pumping Jesse's cock faster, and he lets out a similar pleasant sound. Another hand appears on your body, and you peer over your shoulder to see Hardcase grabbing your ass, kneading at your cheeks, playing with them. "Got room for one more?" he questions, eyeing you up.

"Uh-huh," you say with a nod.

Hardcase flashes you a cheeky grin before moving his head down to kiss over your cheeks, lightly biting at each mound, moving from one cheek to the other. Every time it feels like he's getting close to your entrance, he moves across to the other cheek, teasing you with a smile on his lips. You're half tempted to push back onto his face, but he beats you to it by running his tongue over your rim, circling your entrance curiously.

Hardcase doesn't hold back, attacking your entrance with his tongue, his hands kneading at each cheek. Jesse continues flicking his tongue against your clit, and a hand is removed from your thigh; fingertips brush over your pussy, slicking themselves up, before a finger slides into you, not stopping until he reaches his knuckle.

Jesse slowly begins working you open, not that you need it much, considering your heavy arousal. Hardcase notices and takes the hint, wetting his finger in his mouth before pressing the pad against your entrance. He circles your ass a few times, relaxing the muscle, before slowly and gently pushing in. Unlike Jesse, Hardcase takes his time, working with your body to slowly open your ass up.

Your hand continues sloppily pumping Jesse's length, just enough to keep him satisfied; you want to do more, but your thoughts and feelings are already occupied. Just when you think you can't take any more, another clone comes into your line of sight, and asks you those exact words as he knees down in front of you.

"Can you take any more?" Kix questions, eyeing you up, reading your body language.

"Uh-huh," you nod once more, and Kix seems content with your approval.

He plants a light kiss on your lips before standing, and works on unfastening his pants, revealing yet another thick cock for your pleasure. You know exactly what Kix is after, so you open your mouth, awaiting him; he lets out a groan at the sight, and slips his cock past your lips, the underside brushing over your tongue.

Both of your hands are occupied, with one propping your weight up, and the other pumping Jesse; so, you make do with your mouth, sucking him to the best of your ability, and despite being slightly sloppy, Kix seems more than satisfied. He's an understanding man who can clearly see how busy you are.

And oh kriff, you sure are busy.

An orgasm is sitting on the fence, waiting for that final push. Jesse slips another finger into you, curling them and searching for that sweet spot. He knows he's found it when he overhears a muffled moan, and your moan seems to echo, as one of the clones groans at the sight of you. Hardcase removes his finger from your ass, slipping his tongue in and tongue-fucking your small gape, slicking you up so he can begin pushing two fingers in. Like before, he goes slow, understanding the stretch and burn that you're feeling right now.

Hardcase, within time, reaches his knuckles, and gently works his fingers in and out of you. That sensation, added with Jesse's fingers in you, and lips around your clit, is more than enough to have you cumming. You have to slip off Kix's cock to let out a shaky moan, thighs and body trembling as your orgasm takes you. Your forehead presses against Kix's thigh, eyes scrunched shut and mouth hanging open, and Kix soothes you by running his fingers through your hair, keeping it off your face.

You overhear Tup gasp, Dogma whine, and Fives cheer you on. "That's it, sweetheart," one of them encourages, but your mind is so hazy that you're not sure who it was. Either way, the words of encouragement are appreciated, as well as the soothing touches that Kix and Jesse are leaving over your body.

You soon come back around, still trembling from the intensity. Your eyes meet Kix's, who places a kiss on your forehead before settling down on the bunk beside you, muttering something about you having your hands full.

Curiously, you peer over your shoulder, and only then do you realize that Hardcase now has three fingers inside your ass. You're ready, and Hardcase flashes you a look that confirms it. "Wanna see what else we can do?" Hardcase questions, and you swiftly nod, accepting their advances.

Hardcase slowly slips his fingers from your ass, and works on removing his clothes. A kiss is planted on your inner thigh before Jesse gives you the signal to roll off, and you do so, letting the clone crawl out from beneath you. His face is soaked - no, drenched - and your juices have dribbled down over his chin, darkening the collar of his shirt.

"How do I look?" Jesse chuckles, before wiping his mouth and chin with his shirt sleeve. Taking Hardcase's idea, he too undresses, leaving you sat on your knees on his bunk.

Hardcase frees himself from his clothes first, and takes a seat beside you. He's about to get into position, until Fives calls out his protest. "You just had a go with her!" he whines.

"We'll be quick," Hardcase winks. He gets comfortable on the bunk, lying on his back, head pressed against the pillow. Hardcase makes a grabbing motion at you whilst mumbling "I want your ass," and with a laugh, you begin getting into position.

At first, you feel awkward and exposed, settling so your back is pressed to Hardcase's tattooed chest. He takes the lead, swinging your legs on either side of his, spreading you wide, and signalling for you to hold your hips up. Hardcase wraps his hand around the base of his cock and begins searching for your entrance, and with your help, he finds your ass.

"Go at your own pace, babe," Hardcase comments, and allows you to take your time sliding down onto his cock. Despite being prepped, Hardcase is still a stretch, slowly working your ass open. A mixture of groans fill the room as you slowly slide onto him, soon reaching his base, a gasp escaping your lips. "Beautiful," Hardcase comments, and reaches around to flick his fingers over your clit, attempting to help you relax.

"You ready for me?" Jesse questions, and all you can do is nod as nothing escapes your lips. Jesse shuffles up the bed, settling between your thighs. He slowly enters you, making a comment under his breath about how soaked your pussy is.

Jesse slides in with ease, holding his cock deep inside you, bottoming out. He awaits your signal before making a move, as does Hardcase, and when you give it, both the clones start slowly.  

Your head rolls back to rest on Hardcase's shoulder, and the tattooed clone places a kiss on your temple before turning his focus to bucking up into your ass. Jesse's speed is slightly faster, considering he's in an easier position, and fucking a looser hole. Either way, you're full to the brim, moaning and groaning for them as Hardcase continues flicking his fingers over your clit.

"Kriff, doesn't she look good?" you overhear Kix comment.

Dogma follows up with, "if only you could see yourself, Commander."

Commander, Kriff. That status somehow slipped your mind - you're their Commander, their superior, and your men are currently watching you be fucked, whilst queueing up to take their turn with you. Let's hope your Jedi training has paid off, as you're going to need an extra stern poker-face the next time you're in their presence, or worse, in the presence of your Master.

Jesse, from the sounds that he's making, doesn't seem like he's going to last long. In his defense, you have been pumping his cock this entire time, despite your handiwork being somewhat sloppy. Hardcase's hand on your clit brushes over the perfect spot, causing you to clench in response, and that is more than enough to bring Jesse to orgasm.

"Where?" he manages to blurt out.

"Inside," you order, and every single clone in the room groans at your reply.

Jesse is about to ask if you're certain, but his body gives up before he can speak. Jesse slides his cock as deep as he can, and fills you up, panting and groaning as he releases. He's a debauched, a sweaty mess, possibly still drunk from earlier. Once he's somewhat stable, he slips his cock from you, slowly shuffling off the bed and collapsing on a nearby bunk.

Hardcase kisses your neck, as if to remind you that he's still there, or warning you, since he moves his hands to hold beneath your knees, pulling your knees up against your shoulders, and begins fucking up into your ass.

Your legs are spread, displayed for the other clones to watch as Hardcase ensures that you won't be able to walk for weeks. He's a grunting, sputtering mess beneath you, groaning into the curve of your neck as he chases his release.

A few more thrusts and Hardcase is finishing in your ass, holding your body tight against his as he leaves his mark. You're almost certain you heard a few whimpers from him, meaning his orgasm must have been intense. Eventually, a sweaty Hardcase begins slipping himself from you, being gentle as he rolls you off his chest.

Hardcase has barely removed himself off the bunk before another clone calls out "I'm next," and you look in the direction of the voice to see Dogma slipping his clothes off.

"Dogma? You?" Tup questions.

"Yeah, me!" he states, pointing a finger to himself.

"I didn't think you would," Tup shrugs, and in Tup's defence, you agree with him.

"I thought you'd be the type to tell on us," an exhausted Jesse comments, still laying back on a nearby bunk, spread out and panting heavily.

"Even if he did, I don't think anybody would believe him," Fives adds with a laugh.

"Stop being so mean to him, Troopers. Dogma is just as welcome as everybody else," you defend, and the clone thanks you with a smile.

"As welcome as everybody else?" Fives repeats your word. "Kriff, Commander, I didn't realize you were inviting the entire Legion!" he jokes, and you roll your eyes at Fives's comment, twisting your words cheekily.

You ignore Fives's playful remark, turning your attention to Dogma instead, who's just about finished removing his shirt. "How do you want me, handsome?" you question.

Dogma's eyes light up at your little nickname, and he orders you to "get on your front, hands and knees, and face the boys."

Orders are orders, and you follow them without question. Dogma shuffles in behind you, kneading your ass for a few moments before wrapping his hand around his cock. You're already slick enough, with your own release smeared around your thighs, and a release in both holes, so Dogma doesn't bother using his own spit to slick up his cock. Instead, he glides his cock over your pussy, ensuring the tip of his cock flicks over your clit with every thrust, and once he's satisfied, he begins pushing into your ass.

You let out an "oh," as Dogma slides in, letting out a grunt as he bottoms out. With his hands on your hips, and the signal from you to continue, Dogma begins fucking your ass, gawking over the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing from you. "That's it," he mutters under his breath. "Kriff, you look so good for me."

"For us," Kix intervenes, and Dogma shoots him a grumpy glare.

Dogma is clearly trying to prove his vods wrong, showing them that he wants this, that he won't rat everybody out for breaking so many rules. His thrusts are heavy, the sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis fills up the room, pushing moans from your lips with every thrust. You can feel Hardcase's release slowly being pushed from your ass, settling around your rim, soon to be replaced with Dogmas.

You overhear someone shuffling about, and Kix soon appears in your line of sight. "I'm back," he says with a smile. "Care to continue where we left off?" Kix questions, and lets out a pleasant sigh when you nod in agreement.

This time, you have your hand free, and you wrap it around Kix's cock as the tip slips into your mouth. Dogma's not letting up his thrusts, pushing your head forwards with every roll of his hips, causing you to lightly gag on Kix's length. Kix seems to enjoy it, as do the viewers, and the sensation is alright for you; so, you continue, eventually letting Kix begin thrusting and fucking your mouth, his pace matching Dogmas.

Kix notices the lack of attention on your pussy, and leans forward, hand reaching out to dip beneath your body and help get you off, but Dogma swats his hand away. At first, you're insulted, as is Kix, until Dogma speaks up and explains his actions. "Let's see how long she can last without being touched," he cheekily states, and Kix flashes him a similar smile before looking down at you.

"Sorry, Commander. Orders are orders," Kix shrugs, and returns to fucking your mouth.

You let out a whine, as does Tup, who seems sympathetic at the lack of attention in your key areas. Fives, on the other hand, is hollering, "she won't last long. She'll be begging for it soon!"

Ugh, he's right. Despite already having an orgasm, you're chasing another, eager for that certain-something to help get you off. The more Dogma and Kix fuck you, the more your cunt burns, and when you try to remove your hand from Kix's cock, he wraps his hand around your wrist to prevent you from touching yourself, clicking his tongue with a disapproving "ah-ah!"

"Soon, sweetheart," Dogma says from behind you, and judging from the way his cock is twitching in your ass, you assume he's close.

Dogma picks up his pace, ruining your own pace on Kix's cock - or improving it, as Kix groans when you gag, spit pooling from the corners of your mouth. "So wet," Kix comments under his breath, and returns to fucking your mouth again, grunting and moaning with every thrust.

"Oh, Maker!" Dogma sighs as he pushes his cock as deep as it'll go. With his hands tightly around your hips, he earns his release, filling your ass with hot, sticky cum. Your moan is muffled from Kix's cock, who has slowed his thrusts, almost to a halt. Kix waits for Dogma to finish, and once he's slipped out, he manhandles you into a new position.

Kix rolls you onto your back, legs against the edge of the bed. He's clearly in a rush, his orgasm sitting on the edge, and he hurries to slide his cock into your pussy, one leg up on the bed, the other remaining on the floor.

Kix only thrusts a few times before bottoming out and cumming inside, his load mixing with Jesse's, who has finally perked up after passing out on another bunk. "Good girl," Kix mutters as the pad of his thumb presses to your clit, grinding in circles a few times. He's milking his release, slowly fucking you in a hazy post-orgasm state, biting his lip whenever you clench around his overstimulated cock.

When Kix can't take any more, he pulls out, and your clit is left unattended. You can feel his and Jesse's load leaking from you, and your eyes lock onto Tup, who was just eyeing up your cunt, his cheeks turning red at the sight of your sticky, cum soaked pussy.

"We're up, Tup!" Fives says with a laugh, patting his vod on the shoulder, snapping him out of his fixated state. Fives has the audacity to follow up his rhyme with finger guns, causing you to roll your eyes at the cheek of this man.

Tup lets out a "huh?" before realising that it's his turn to play with you. The pair are quick to strip off; Fives leaves his clothes strung over the floor, whilst Tup leaves his on his bunk. Just like the rest of your squad, they're hung, and your holes are already beginning to feel sore at the sight of them.

Fives motions for you to stand, and with extremely wobbly legs, you manage to get up, clinging onto Fives as you do so. "Tup, c'mere and help me out," Fives playfully orders, before turning his focus to you.

He bends down slightly, arms stretched out, and asks for you to wrap your legs around his waist. "Catch her if she falls, Tup," Fives comment, and you hear a soft "oh, kriff," from behind you.

Well, you don't fall. Your legs are wrapped around Fives's waist, hands around his neck, awaiting the next move. Five pauses, staring out into thin air, before realizing his mistake.

"Wait, I want to fuck your ass... Tup, you pick her up," Fives comments, and gently places you back down on the floor, only to spin you around so you're facing Tup instead.

"Idiot," Jesse mutters under his breath, and Fives glares at him over your shoulder.

Tup wraps his arms around your waist, and on his nod, you jump up into his lap. He moves your legs to wrap around his waist, ankles crossing over, and your hands trail up to settle on his shoulders, fingertips playing with his loose strands of hair. Tup, for some reason, is trembling, and you're uncertain if it's from your weight, or his nerves. A soothing kiss on his nose reveals that it's his nerves, as he begins to relax, and your weight is then shared between the two clones as Fives approaches you from behind.

Fives focuses on slipping his cock into your ass, before taking your weight off Tup, allowing him to slide up into your pussy. The pair bottom out, pulling you down onto their lengths, and find an even way to hold your weight, making it easier on everybody.

At first, the pair are an uneven, a sloppy mess, struggling to find the right rhythm. Despite their lack of sync, you're still enjoying yourself, but the second they finally sync up, it's game over. With your hands desperately clinging onto Tup's shoulders, you roll your head back against Fives's shoulder, moaning and groaning as the fuck you.

Tup lets out a sigh as he comments "you're so good for us," his hands kneading at your thighs around his waist.

"Isn't she just?" Fives smirks, and his hands on your ass give you a squeeze. "Poor Tup here looks like he's going to cum already," Fives bites at his vod, and Tup sends him a disappointed glare.

"Play nice, you two," you softly order, not wanting to be stuck in the middle of their play fight.

They let out a "yes, Commander," as their thrusts continue, the sound of synced up skin against skin echoing around the dorm room.

However, the sound of the door opening makes everybody jump out of their skin, and you all turn with wide eyes to see none other than Captain Rex entering the room. Fives and Tup come to a halt, Jesse sits up on his bunk, and everybody awaits Rex's move.

Rex, with a stern expression, reaches a hand out to press the lock button on the dorms' door. "You forgot to lock it," he states, then tuts and shakes his head, scolding his men for their sloppiness.

Rex is still in uniform, his helmet tucked under his arm. The sound of heavy footsteps slowly approaches you, Tup, and Fives, and all three of you watch as Rex comes to a halt in front of you. You gulp, despite being a higher ranking than Rex, and despite knowing that he is also in on this.

The expression Rex gives you sends a shiver down your spine; he raises a single brow, slowly eyeing all of you up and down, before his lips finally trail into a smirk. A gloved hand reaches out and finds its way between your legs, instantly settling over your clit. Rex begins to slowly rub your clit, the fabric of his gloves giving you that something extra, and he speaks up in his usual, bold, military tone.

"You've got to play with her as you're fucking her, boys," Rex states, smirking as he notices everybody's expressions drop, letting out sighs of relief. "How is she meant to cum if you're not focusing on the right areas?" Rex questions, and gestures for his men to pick up their pace again.

Fives and Tup begin bucking up into you again, still slightly nervous, but lust soon takes over and evens them out. Rex turns his full attention to you, and the deepness of his voice makes your pussy clench. "Have these men served you well?" he questions.

"They have," you mutter, nodding as you speak, eager to express your fondness.

"That's good to hear, Commander," the Captain smirks. His eyes stay glued to yours, and you can't bare to look away. His fingers are working wonders on your clit, and the sensation of Fives and Tup tending to you is swiftly becoming too much. Your breaths become quick and short, and your eyes struggle to stay open. Rex takes not and announces, "she's close, boys."

"Go on, show off for Rex," Fives says against your ear, and Tup nods along in agreement. A few more thrusts and you're clenching around their cocks, both men grunting and moaning as you up their sensation. Rex doesn't stop playing with your clit, at first, until your thighs begin to twitch from overstimulation; only then does he pull away, taking a step back and settling his hands on his hips after placing his helmet down on a nearby bunk.

Tup lets out a whine, and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. "Good boy, Tup," you direct your praise to him, and that alone is enough to make him cum. Tup buries his head into the curve of your neck, groaning against your skin as his load joins the others inside you, most of it oozing out past his cock and dripping to the floor.

"Kriff, guess it's my turn," Fives comments with a light laugh. He buries his head into your other shoulder, kissing and nipping at your skin as he continues fucking your ass. It doesn't take long for Fives to also cum, burying his length up to the base, and groaning when you twitch from overstimulation. "So karking good," Fives mutters, and repeats his compliment as he lifts his head off your shoulder, before kissing your cheek.

Slowly and steadily, the pair lower you, avoiding the slippy patches of cum on the floor that has dripped from both your holes. You're debauched, exhausted in every aspect, and undeniably cock-dumb as Rex approaches and asks "got room for your Captain?"

"Always," you steadily sigh. Rex chuckles at your eagerness, then gestures for you to get comfortable on a bunk.

You pick Jesse's bunk, seeing as it's already a mess, plus it's in the centre of everybody's line of sight. Knowing Rex, he'll want to make a show of this, turning it into some training exercise as a way of covering up what is really going on here.

You sit back on the bed, falling back onto your elbows, and watch as Rex approaches. He unfastens his codpiece, discarding it onto a nearby bunk, and pulls his semi-hard cock out from beneath his blacks. The Captain is clean-shaven, thick and girthy, another cock to add onto your 'reasons why I can't walk this week' list.

Rex slips his gloves off before pumping himself with one hand, the other reaching down to trail over your overly sensitive cunt. Gentle fingertips slide over your wet folds, and Rex spreads you apart, revealing the sticky mess leaking from your entrance. "I see they've been keeping you full," Rex comments as his fingers trail up to glide over your clit, pressing firmly and flicking over the bud.

"Very full," you nod along. Your eyes flick to Rex's cock, which is now hard, precum leaking like crazy. Rex notices the way you're looking at his length, and he stops pumping his shaft, holding at the base instead, as if to present it.

"Is this what you want?" he teasingly questions, causing you to shudder.

"Yes, Captain," you nod, and Rex lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Place the order, Commander," Rex orders in his own way.

You lick your lips, followed by clearing your throat, and keep your eyes locked onto your Captains as you state "your orders are to fuck me, Captain."

"Yes, Ma'am."

You overhear a handful of men groan at your tone of voice, no doubt working themselves up again. "I'll show you boys how it's done," Rex says with a smug laugh as he moves both of his hands to your knees, and slowly pushes them up until they're almost pressing your shoulders, folding your body in half. He keeps one hand on your knee, the other holding the base of his cock as he begins slipping into you.

It isn't until you feel cold plastoid pressing against your body that you realize he's still in uniform.

Rex is fucking you with his armour on? Oh.

The sound that Rex lets out as he bottoms out is one that will forever play on repeat in the back of your mind. He holds himself there, scrunching his eyes shut as he regains focus, enticed by how wet and warm you feel. Once Rex has evened out, he begins thrusting into you, and oh Kriff, this man does not hold back.

With your body folded in half, Rex is able to drive his cock even deeper, his tip brushing over your g-spot with every thrust. Your legs find their way around his upper back, ankles locking over each other, and to encourage Rex, you press your heel against his back, urging him to give you all he's got. Rex's eyes meet yours, a single brow raised, and he makes a brief comment about how needy you are.

You're already a babbling mess, and Rex has only just begun! No doubt, you'll pass out the second he's finished with you, but your men are here to pick up the pieces, labelling you as a war hero for helping them during such desperate times.

"How're you doing, sweetheart?" Rex questions, affectionate eyes locking onto your half-lidded ones.

"G-good," is all you can reply, and Rex chuckles at your cock-dumb mentality.

When words fail, actions speak, and Rex dips his head down to introduce his lips to yours. Despite his heavy thrusts, the kiss is steady, adding to your overstimulation. You've always been fond of your Captain, but you could never quite put your finger on why; now you've got it - it's because he fucks so kriffing good!

As the kiss breaks, you reach around Rex's neck, hands clasping onto his back, attempting to rake your nails into his slippery armour. Rex lets out a soft laugh before kissing along your neck, leaving his mark below where your Jedi robes sit - what a smart man.

"Rex, I'm-" you blurt out.

"I know, sweetheart," Rex replies in a soothing voice, only for his tone to turn stern as he questions "you're going to cum for me, aren't you, Commander?"

Your reply can't seem to leave your lips, so you nod in response. Rex chuckles at your desperation, and to your surprise, he stops what he's doing. His thrusts come to a sharp halt, and he quickly slips his cock from you, leaving you with your mouth hanging open.

Just as you're about to question what he's doing, as are the other clones, he sits on the end of the bed beside you and slips two fingers into your cunt, instantly curling them and fucking you where he left off.

Rex clearly knows something you don't, but you allow him to take the ropes, especially as your orgasm is on the edge. There's a strange sensation in your gut, something you haven't quiet felt before, and judging from the way it's growing with Rex's movements, you assume you'll soon find out.

"Watch and learn, boys," Rex states, but keeps his eyes focused, locked onto yours.

You're putty in his grasp, mewling on the bed, not bothering to hold back on your moans. You're about to cum, any second now, but that foreign sensation takes over instead. Suddenly, everything becomes too much, especially Rex's fingers hitting that soft spot inside you over and over. You yelp as something takes over your body, an orgasm of some kind; on shaky elbows, you rush to prop yourself up, gazing down to watch in amazement as you squirt all over your Captain's arm, the liquid coating his plastoid armour.

"Good girl," Rex coos through gritted teeth, repeating the praise, but doesn't let up just yet. Kriff, you're screaming, even with your hand over your mouth. You fall back onto the bed, clawing at the sheets as this orgasm lasts longer than usual.

Even after you squirt, Rex continues fucking you with his fingers, as if to ensure that you're empty. He eventually calms down, and only then does your volume begin to drop, revealing the vast amount of praise from your troopers.

"That was beautiful, Commander!" Fives calls out.

"Kriff, she's shaking," you overhear Tup comment.

Jesse whines "my karking bed is soaked..." under his breath, which makes you smile to yourself. He was the one to suggest his bed, so he can lie in his wet grave!

A gentle stroke of your hair makes you open your eyes, only to meet Kix, who's gazing down at you. "Are you alright?" he questions.

"Uh-huh," you lazily nod, and he smiles at your exhaustion. Kix slowly props you up, letting you fall back against him. Your eyes trail to Rex, who looks almost as tired as you do. He's wiping something off his thigh, and if your calculations are correct, his thigh was out of your splash zone.

"Did you cum?" you ask Rex, who looks up at you with a tired smile. He nods in confirmation.

"Untouched," Rex states, and you take pride in making him cum in such a way.

You have a sudden burst of energy, and use it to lean forwards and thank your Captain with a kiss. Rex smiles against your lips before playfully nipping at your bottom lip, earning a sarcastic comment of "get a room!" from Jesse.

"I think we should get you into the refresher instead," Rex comments as he breaks the kiss.

"As good as that sounds, I can't walk," you sigh, and attempt to gesture to your jelly-like body, only for your arms to flap about and fall flat at your sides.

Rex laughs at your exhaustion, then informs you that he'll run you a bath instead. You look at him with a surprised expression, to which he states "I know, I wasn't expecting the GAR to treat us to baths, either."

Rex leaves you in the company of Kix, who begins checking over your body whilst asking you over and over if you're alright.

------

A nice, hot bath doesn't take long for Rex to run. Hardcase, now in his blacks, with caution, picks you up and carries you to the dorms' refresher. He's extra gentle as he places your feet on the tile floor, keeping his arm around your waist to steady yourself as you slowly enter the bath.

Hardcase steals a kiss from you, muttering "thanks for tonight, Commander," against your lips before leaving you to it.

Kix enters the second Hardcase exits, bringing you a glass of water and a certain prevention pill. "Let me know if you need anything," he informs you before kissing your forehead and leaving you to relax.

Only for Fives to come barrelling in, instantly blabbering on about how good you were. "I always assumed you'd be quite the slut, but... well, I wasn't expecting that," Fives playfully jabs, and insists that "we should all do it again some time!"

Dogma peers his head around the door and barks at Fives to leave you alone, but the second he shoos Fives out, he replaces the emptiness with himself instead. "Eh, Fives is right," Dogma comments, referring to Fives statement. "But don't tell him I said that," he grumbles as he steals a kiss from you.

You stretch back in the bath, enjoying the GAR assigned bubbles, and just when you think you're alone, Tup appears. "I don't want to smother you..." he sheepishly comments, "but I wanted to thank you for tonight." You can't help but laugh at Tup's kind demeanour, and the smile remains on your lips as Tup offers you a massage.

You accept, under the cheeky condition that Tup joins you in the bath. His cheeks turn pink at your suggestion, and continue turning pink the more he undresses. Tup even attempts to cover himself up as he settles in the bath with you, making you giggle once more.

Tup has your back resting against his chest, tenderly burying his fingertips into your damp skin, softening out those tight areas. You overhear commotion outside, and both of you laugh as it unfolds.

"No fair! Tup's in there having another round with her!" Fives protests, his voice thudding through the thickness of the refresher door.

"Leave her alone, Fives. She's a free woman, she can do what she wants!" Somebody defends, and you're almost certain it's Dogma.

"They're just cuddling, leave them alone," Rex intervenes, and you know it's Rex from his firmness and slight difference in tone.

Following the Captain's orders, you and Tup are left to it, cuddling and lazily washing each other. Once the water turns cold, you both make your exit, drying yourselves off and gawking when Tup lets down his hair, only to refasten it into another, fresh manbun.

A pair of blacks has been left for you on the side, and despite them being a little big, they still fit snugly. As you exit the refresher, the first thing you notice is that Jesse's bed has been completely stripped, bedding in the wash. The dorm is clean, and your clothes and bag have been folded and placed on Jesse's empty bed.

"I guess I'm staying the night," you comment, and gesture to ask who you're bundling up with.

Before anyone can get a word in, the Captain speaks up. "I missed out on most of the night, so I'd like to catch up with you."

You're unsure if 'catch up' means have a chat, or wake up to find Rex spoon-fucking you, but either way, you're down. With a nod of confirmation, you begin settling in for the night, curling up in Rex's bunk as he continues changing from his armour into a fresh pair of blacks to sleep in.

"Wait a minute," Jesse intervenes. "Where am I sleeping?" he questions, setting his hands on his hips with frustration.

"You can go give Tup a cuddle, he loves them, apparently," Fives maliciously comments, sending playful, yet bold daggers at his vod.

"Ah, leave Tup alone," Dogma defends him.

Before Fives can take another jab, Hardcase barks up with "we can spoon!" And Jesse doesn't look too pleased at his suggestion.

"You can join us, Jesse," Rex disgruntledly states.

"You do know these beds are singles, right?" Jesse states as he gestures to the small, single beds, barely big enough for one clone, let alone two, and you.

"Yes, but from what I've seen, the Commander likes it when she has a clone pressed up on either side of her," Rex teases, side-eyeing you as he comments.

An array of laugher fills the air, and Jesse nods in agreement. You remain quiet, as there's no point denying something that is blatantly true!

The lights are soon turned out, and the boys take it in turns to say goodnight to each other. In the dark, you feel Rex join you, manhandling you into position. Your head finds Rex's chest, an arm sprawled out underneath your neck, and your arm wraps around Rex's waist. Jesse then joins, and since your back is free, he decides to spoon you, trapping you perfectly in your 501st sandwich. Before falling asleep, you make a minor comment to Rex, as if to apologize for him not being there tonight. "We'll make sure you come with us next time," you quietly comment, referring to 79's, the venue that lead you here.

Jesse chuckles before mentioning how wild the night went. "You should have seen her, Captain. She's the sluttiest woman in the galaxy, grinding on Hardcase whilst making out with me," Jesse explains, and you lightly elbow him in the ribs for leaking so much information. A few men can be heard giggling in their bunks, if only you could elbow them too.

"Oh really?" Rex responds, his pitch heightening him as he asks. "Well, I'll definitely be there next time, and I'll ensure that I make up for my lack of presence," Rex promises, and knowing Rex, this is a promise he'll keep.

"I can't wait," you reply, softly yawning against Rex's chest.

"Neither can I," Fives comments from across the dorm, earning a giggle from Hardcase.

"Alright, men. That's enough. Go to sleep," Rex orders.

"Yeah, Captain's orders," you playfully comment, earning yet another sea of giggles.

Within time, the bunch calm down, and the air is soon graced with the soothing sounds of snoring clones. It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep, as your exhausted body is begging for some rest. You doze off, sandwiched snugly between an ARC Trooper and the Captain of the 501st.

What a dream!!!!

[offtopicoverload]

Hope Dumps Noah

I have no logical explanation for what this is, but @bubblybabynailpolish had an anon bring up Noah + Hope = Jade + Beck from Victorious a while ago, and it’s been living rent free in my head for weeks so here’s some bullshit. It’s loosely based on that one episode where Jade gets Tori to win back Beck except gayer and more litg and exists purely to appease the gremlin that is early 2010s me yelling in the back of my mind. And thanks to Anne for answering my weird asks, this is what they were for lmao

T Rating (fluff and angst, some elements of the show kinda? i tried at least)

Hope x MC (Rosie)

~10k (got super carried away but didnt wanna make multiple parts so take it as you will. on the bright side, it'd be longer if i edited properly but im tired so no)

Rosie’s front door shakes on its hinges, a pounding, thundering sound echoing from the other side, berating the wood as it quivers and quivers. Her head flies up in surprise, half expecting an army to spill into her flat, battering ram in hand as they shout orders. But no such event occurs, and she leaps up from the sofa in the corner, pocketing her phone and hurrying across the room before yanking the door open. She immediately freezes in place, meeting bewildered, watery eyes standing on the other side of the threshold.

Tears are streaming down splotchy cheeks, a throat bobbing as it fights to maintain some sort of composure, even as bones tremble beneath skin, shivering regardless of the heat of the building. “Um, uh, hey?” Rosie tries awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway and gripping the knob with pale knuckles.

“Can I come in?” the words waver as they leave messy, tear-muddied, brightly stained lips, pouring out like broken shards, creating their own trail alongside tears. Red eyes glance down the hallway, paranoid as they search for something, even in the late night, “I don’t - I don’t want to be out here where -” a sniffle “- where people can see.”

Rosie blinks a few times, her mind still slowly working to process the situation that’s just presented itself to her. But dark eyes are glimmering with shed and unshed tears, pleading beneath lashes and shadows from poor corridor lighting, and she startles into action, “Yeah! Yeah, er, yeah,” she mumbles, moving aside and holding the door open in invitation.

The threshold’s crossed, hurrying inside the flat with arms crossed, making a beeline for the upholstered sofa backed against the wall and dropping down onto it. Rosie closes the door, locking it carefully, neurotically, slowly, just to give herself time to think, to make sense of what to do with one of the last people she ever expected inside her flat: Hope.

Hope’s sitting on her sofa, curled in on herself to take up as little space as possible, cheeks covered in the remnants of despair that Rosie can’t even explain, let alone prepare herself for. Hope’s sniffling in her living room, palms running up and down her biceps to calm herself, her throat struggling to stifle sobs she’s ashamed of. Hope’s crying in her flat, gaze pinned to the floor to avoid the world, makeup streaked and smudged on all of her features, features wracked with inexplicable pain.

Rosie turns from the door, brushing her clammy palms on her sweatpants over and over again, a distractionary stimuli to calm the nerves slowly bubbling beneath her skin. Nerves she hasn’t felt in months, and was determined to never feel again, not after weeks and weeks of the constant feeling of insects crawling beneath her skin, burrowing and biting and squirming. She glances up, finding Hope’s eyes trained on her, hesitant and terrified from across the room, the flat’s lights reflecting in them, her damp cheeks shimmering in the warm colours.

Rosie forces her lips to curl in a tiny smile as she approaches, somewhat slow and cautious, until she can fall into the cushions beside Hope, bloodshot eyes never straying from her movement. Rosie risks a hand on her back, gently skating up and down her spine, an attempt at comfort she doesn’t have a reason to provide. But she provides it anyway, praying it’ll help, it’ll keep the tears from dripping down Hope’s jaw and dampening her top.

Only it doesn’t, only Hope begins to crumble, falling against her and burying her face against Rosie’s shoulder, sobs shaking her shoulders, trembling like the door on its hinges. Rosie wraps her arms around the quaking body clinging to her, murmuring a few quiet assurances, an offer of a lifesaver in the raging sea drowning her. Her hands draw circles on Hope’s vulnerable back, shapes to distract herself with, to ground herself with.

Hope bawls and whimpers and sobs and shakes for what feels like forever to Rosie, a forever that’s odd and uncomfortable, a forever that she doesn’t know what to make of. It’s not that she’s necessarily upset with it - she’s done this for girl friends in the past, she knows how to help a heartbroken woman - it’s just who she’s helping. She hasn’t seen Hope since the finale, since she walked away with her hand clasped in Noah’s, since Rosie split the money with Arjun, just to appease the audience.

He was sweet, sure, but they just didn’t fit. She didn’t feel like he was her other half, her perfect match, a missing piece in the puzzle that constructs her life. She didn’t see herself sacrificing things for him, didn’t see herself working for her relationship with him, didn’t see herself with him, point blank. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

Which is exactly why she has no idea what to make of the woman dampening and wrinkling her sweater, face pressed to her shoulder and hands fisted in her shirt. “Hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs against Hope’s head, her breath hot where it brushes skin, a shiver running through Hope at the exhale.

This is unfamiliar territory to Rosie, unknown ground as she slowly steps into no man’s land, wary of land mines sitting beneath the dirt. Land mines of glares and scoffs and dismissals, land mines that sat in every corner of the Villa. Maybe in another life this would be normal, be commonplace, but not in this one.

Not in the world where Rosie kissed Noah in the Villa’s lounge that fateful day, that day that she’s regretted ever since. It wasn’t meant to mean anything, it was only supposed to help Priya and Bobby. It wasn’t supposed to cause the end of the world or hurt Hope as much as it did. It wasn’t supposed to confuse Noah as much as it did or leave him dragging things on for ages. It wasn’t supposed to be anything at all, anything but a blatant mistake.

But it was, it was so much, and now here they are, months and months later. Hope hasn’t spoken to Rosie since the finale, and Rosie didn’t even mind. She’s barely kept in touch with anyone, the only people she speaks to being Chelsea and Priya, since they’re always first to reach out. Even in the Villa, Hope would barely speak to her, and it hurt for a while. It hurt that they had been so close and were suddenly so far, but she always forced that hurt away. It was her own fault, it was her actions that led to Hope hating her guts.

Except, maybe she doesn’t hate Rosie’s guts. Maybe she doesn’t want her dead or wish she was never born. Maybe she still thinks about when they were friends like Rosie does. Maybe there’s a reason she’s crying in Rosie’s arms in this moment, that she showed up at Rosie’s door, that she sought out something only Rosie could presumably offer.

Hope swallows thickly, her head turning until her cheek’s resting against Rosie. “We broke up,” Hope croaks, stifling another sob as she forces her voice out again, “I - I dumped Noah.”

“Oh, um…” Rosie fumbles, her hand tracing the length of Hope’s spine beneath her heavy, navy, patterned sweater, “I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words still warm as they settle on Hope’s skin.

“It’s my fault,” she whimpers, turning her face back to Rosie as another tremble courses through her, a barely suppressed noise of anguish dying in her throat.

Rosie resumes her reassurances, her small whispers into Hope’s scalp, her tight hold on Hope’s quivering body. She cycles through every calming technique or phrase she can think of what must be a hundred times over, until Hope quiets, until Rosie stops feeling tears on her neck, until steady, even breathing fills the flat.

She swallows to stabilise herself before asking the all important question, one she’s a little nervous to hear the answer to, “Can I - Can I ask why you’re here? And, uh, so upset? If it was your decision?” she trips over her words, a flower of nerves blossoming in her stomach, and she wants to stamp it out, to stop it from pulling her in once more.

Hope pulls away from, her face set in malleable stone even with tears glistening on her cheekbones, sparkling in the overhead lights Rosie had on, diamonds tumbling down her skin, soft enough not to cut. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I - I didn’t know what to do,” she confesses, her head bowing and eyes staring into her lap.

“Okay,” Rosie nods, a palm still skating up and down the length of Hope’s upper arm, “That’s okay. You don’t have to know. You can just stay here if you want?” she offers uneasily, shifting awkwardly in her spot.

Hope’s eyes flicker up to meet Rosie’s, a cautious hopefulness in them, “I can? It’s not, like, weird?” she mumbles, averting her gaze once more.

“Not if you don’t think it is,” Rosie counters as coolly as she can manage.

Hope shakes her head adamantly, “No, no, I’d… I’d rather not be on my own right now.”

Rosie smiles in what she hopes comes across as encouraging, “That’s cool. You want me to stay out here? We can watch a movie?” she proposes with pinched brows and squinted eyes.

A gentle, hesitant smile quirks Hope’s mouth, “Yeah.” She pauses, contemplative and nodding distractedly, “That’d be great, thanks.”

Rosie rises from the sofa, crossing the living room to flip off the lights and grab the remote and a pile of blankets sitting in the corner. She drops them beside Hope in a heap, crashing onto the opposite side of the sofa a second later. She flicks through streaming services until Hope points out some random romcom, Rosie turning it on as Hope relaxes into the sofa with one of the blankets.

Rosie doesn’t pay much attention to the film, playing with her box braids distractedly and only having a loose grasp on the cheesy plot, but she notices every time Hope laughs, the sound becoming more and more relaxed as time goes on. Rosie sinks into the cushions, her legs folded and arms wrapped around her torso, head lolled against the back of the sofa.

It’s hard to tell when her eyelids fall shut, or when the movie ends, or when Hope moves, but Rosie wakes up to a dark screen flickering through backgrounds and ads for streaming exclusives. She wakes up to Hope’s head resting on her shoulder and a blanket splayed across her lap, as if Hope was worried she’d be cold without it.

She blinks a few times in the dark, taking in the scene around her and slowly processing what her night has become. She only wanted to sit on her phone before going to bed early after her long day at work. She didn’t expect a crying woman to show up at her doorstep or to watch a bad movie until too early in the morning, or to fall asleep in the living room. A sigh shakes her chest, and she reaches for the remote, turning off the telly and settling back into the sofa, Hope shifting beside her with the adjustment.

---

Rosie wakes up to sunlight pouring into her flat and a deserted sofa, blankets the only remnants of Hope’s night spent in the living room. She slumps forward, head in her hands as she adjusts to the too-bright sun and the noise of London already filtering inside, honks of car horns and a hum of people on the streets providing a familiar soundtrack to her wake up.

“I want to get him back,” a voice declares, the words wavering slightly as they fall from lips set in a frown.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she lifts her head, blinking to clear her vision. She finds Hope standing across the room, arms crossed and expression determined as she meets Rosie’s gaze.

“I want to get Noah back, I want to tell him I’m sorry for the breakup,” Hope repeats, her voice sturdier now.

Rosie nods, her mind still foggy but the haze slowly clearing, “Okay. That’s good,” she rationalises slowly, rising from the sofa and stretching her muscles; she’s made a point to avoid sleeping on the sofa normally. She stalks into the kitchen, falling into her usual morning routine easily.

Hope follows behind her, eyes widening, “It is?” she sounds surprised, stopping a ways away from Rosie, feet on the wood.

“Yeah, if you were happy together,” Rosie nods again, turning to her kitchen appliances. She starts with coffee, collecting beans and supplies meticulously as always, setting them out in a particular pattern beside the fridge.

Hope crashes into a barstool at the counter behind Rosie, her voice coming out softer now, “We were,” she confirms.

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs. “So go get him back,” she turns, forearms dropping to the counter beneath her to support her weight. She watches Hope curiously, expecting some explanation or excitement or something of the like, but Hope’s gone silent, her lip slipping between her teeth to worry the skin. Her gaze is trained on the pale countertop, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Hope?” Rosie asks gently.

Dark eyes fly up to meet her own, snapping up too quickly, “Yeah?”

“You okay?” Concern wells in Rosie’s gaze before she can prevent it, her upper body unconsciously leaning forward to inspect Hope and find what’s suddenly irking her.

“Yeah,” Hope nods.

Rosie isn’t quite convinced, her brows knitting together, “You sure?”

Hope’s eyes flicker around the kitchen for a minute to avoid the deep eyes watching her before her shoulders slump, defeated and exhausted, “No,” she mumbles dejectedly.

“What’s wrong?”

A heavy sigh lifts Hope’s shoulders, twitching them lightly “I don’t think he’ll talk to me, not after yesterday.”

Rosie pauses. She hadn’t really considered that, just assumed Noah would be as torn up about the breakup as Hope had been, that he’d been jumping in place if Hope said it was a mistake. Her fingernails tap at the counter as she considers, weighing her options before diving right in, “Do you want me to try?”

Hope’s eyes dart to Rosie again, still just as surprised as earlier, as if everything Rosie does is entirely unbelievable, “You’d do that?”

“I guess?” Rosie gives an awkward shrug, averting her eyes and turning around to continue making coffee. She grabs milk from the fridge before finishing the process, pouring everything into a mug, “Yeah, sure,” she mumbles when she faces Hope again, swirling the dark liquid in a whirlpool.

It’s a long, almost painful amount of time before either of them utter another word. “Thank you,” Hope whispers the words, a tiny break in the quiet of the flat, of the bubble that’s formed in the kitchen.

---

The next day, long after Hope leaves her flat, long after Rosie made eggs and coffee for the both of them, long after Hope gave Rosie a quick hug in thanks, Rosie grabs an Uber to the other side of the city, to the library Noah works at. She strides into the building with her hands knotted in the pockets of her jacket, nerves clamming her palms as she scans the open area she’s found herself in. It’s relatively empty, only a few people sitting and working or browsing shelves idly in the middle of the day.

She searches a few aisles, glancing down empty passageways and passing shelf after shelf loaded with books. A few patrons give her odd looks, some outright glaring at her for her behaviour, but she eventually finds Noah in a back corner, restocking a few shelves in practiced motions, a cart loaded with books parked beside him.

“Hey,” she greets from down the aisle, waving slightly with an uneasy smile when he glances at her in surprise.

He adds the books in his hands to the shelf before turning to face her properly, his expression slightly stunned, “Hey,” he greets back, his tone puzzled as one hand falls to the book cart to lean against.

Rosie ventures further into the aisle, her eyes darting around as she attempts to figure out how to broach the tender subject of a breakup from only two days ago. She stops before him, folding her arms and rolling up and down on her toes, “So…” she starts, looking up at him from beneath her lashes in hopes that he’ll understand what she’s getting at.

He doesn’t, only blinking as he looks at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation for her presence. She sighs, one hand fiddling with the tips of her braids nervously, rolling them between the pads of her fingers, “You and Hope broke up?” she eventually asks, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as she can muster.

His eyes go wide, his jaw falling open, “Um, yeah, but I - Look, you’re really amazing but I think I need a little time, you know, and if you’ll wait, that’s great, but I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything, but again, you’re amazing, I just…” he trails off as he takes in the confusion on her face, a blush growing on his cheeks.

Then it clicks, “Oh!” she startles. “No, no, I - mate, I didn’t come to hit on you,” she clarifies, somewhat taken aback by the conclusion he so quickly jumped to. “I’m not here to ask you out, no,” she reiterates.

He nods swiftly, muttering a few apologies under his breath before clearing his throat. “So, um, why are you here then?” he asks, careful and wary of saying something else wrong.

Rosie shifts on her feet, hands falling back to fidget in her jacket pocket’s, “Well… I kinda got the impression that Hope regrets the way things went down and wants to try again,” she forces, drawing herself to her full height, still a few inches shorter than the man before her.

Confusion flickers on his face, “How’d you get that impression?”

“I talked to her.”

The confusion grows, a crease splitting his eyebrows, “She talked to you?”

“She showed up at my flat,” Rosie answers casually.

“Why?”

She shrugs, mumbling out an “I dunno” in response.

“And you’re fine with that? And you’re helping her?” his arms cross over his chest as he asks, staring down at her intently, intimidatingly.

“Yeah,” she shrinks under his gaze, drawing her jacket tighter to block out the sudden chill coursing down her spine.

Noah’s lips twist, though in frustration or anger or upset, Rosie can’t tell. “Why?” he repeats.

Rosie sighs, shrugging again at the lack of a better answer, offering her best explanation, “She was really torn up about it.”

“She dumped me,” he states calmly, matter-of-factly, dismissively.

“I know.”

He watches Rosie carefully for a moment, taking in her appearance as she shuffles on her feet, unable to conceive of where this conversation is going next. “Do you know why?” he finally asks, Rosie stilling at the question.

“No,” she admits reluctantly.

“I got lunch with Priya, alone.”

“Well, yeah, that’s not great,” sarcasm soaks her words, coating her throat as the syllables escape.

Noah blinks at her, still stern and calm, “Because Ibrahim and Marisol had to cancel.”

“Oh,” Rosie freezes, her body tensing uncomfortably. That changes things. She swallows thickly, eyebrows raising and curving together, “Does she know that?”

“I tried to tell her.”

“Maybe she’ll listen now.”

“She never does,” Noah shrugs, his demeanor unchanged and unaffected.

She looks to him in disbelief, “That can’t be true.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, his guard finally cracking as his arms fall back to his sides, disappointment radiating from him like warmth from a fire, “For my birthday she got me The Old Man and the Sea,” he looks at Rosie as if he expects her to understand what that means.

“Okay…” she squints. She knows enough about literature to know it’s a classic, that most students have to read it at one point, herself included. “Why’s that bad? You’re a librarian.”

Noah’s lips curve in a slight frown as he straightens impossibly taller, “I hate Hemingway,” he nearly spits the name, a frown splitting Rosie’s own lips at his obvious displeasure.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

---

Hope shows up at Rosie’s flat again that night, her features fraught as she hurries in, hugging herself tight with her coat. She drops onto the sofa after she enters, Rosie following a beat behind and folding her legs on the cushions, Hope nearly vibrating in her skin as she watches Rosie expectantly.

When Rosie only meets her gaze, she sighs exasperatedly, “Well? What’d he say? He didn’t text me or anything,” she leans forward, eager to learn.

Rosie shifts under the excitement presented to her, excitement she knows is about to die, “He, uh, he wasn’t really on board with you guys getting back together,” she mumbles, avoiding shining eyes.

Hope visibly deflates in only a heartbeat, her bottom lip poking out as tears well in her eyes, every part of her depressed and hurt, “He wasn’t?” Her voice is small, painfully so to Rosie’s ears.

She forces herself not to cringe at the tone, at the way Hope’s fighting tears once more, “No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you’ve done a lot,” Hope sniffles, wiping at her nose and blinking back tears to calm herself, to prevent another onslaught of sobs on Rosie’s sofa. “You’ve done a lot,” she repeats, eyes trained on the fabric of the cushions beneath them, staring intently just to have something to focus her energy on. “Did he say why?” she finally asks after a minute, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them.

“Er -” Rosie squirms, fidgeting nervously, “He said he didn’t think you really listened to him,” she draws out the words, not wanting to speak them.

Hope is absolutely appalled, her jaw falling open in horror, “That’s - That’s not true!” she eventually manages the words, her mouth fumbling them.

“I know, but -”

“I listen!” she insists, hands flying up to grip Rosie’s forearm desperately, in search of confirmation that she’s a good person, a good partner, “Why would he say that, Rosie?” she’s panicked as her grasp tightens, falling away only a second later, “Why would he say that?” she repeats, softer now, a whisper.

“He said for his birthday you got him a Hemingway book,” Rosie chances.

Hope’s arms fold over her chest protectively, “He didn’t have any Hemingway.”

“‘Cause he hates Hemingway,” Rosie explains as gently as she can, Hope immediately slumping again, any retorts or defences forgotten.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet, Hope staring at nothing and Rosie staring at Hope, waiting for something to change, waiting for her to get sad or angry or maybe just leave all together. But she doesn’t, meeting Rosie’s eyes with a fire inside her own, “I need something else.” She’s determined as she sinks into the cushions, thinking raptly of some solution. “What if I get him a gift?” a lightbulb seems to explode above her head as she sits up again.

Rosie blinks at the quick change in mood, taken aback at the grin sitting on Hope’s lips. “Like what?”

“He likes Greyhounds?” Hope proposes with a tilt of her head and a quirk of an eyebrow, “He always said he’d love to have one.”

“You’re gonna buy him an entire dog?” Rosie asks in shock, her tone stunted and sharp.

Hope scowls at her in irritation, “He likes them!” she defends, “He’s talked about them a lot, and it’ll show I listen, right?”

“I guess?”

“What do you mean you guess?”

Hands fly up in self-defence and attempted placation, “This is your relationship, I don’t know him or what goes,” Rosie gestures in the air separating her from Hope, working to diffuse the tension.

Hope huffs, crossing her arms and collapsing into the cushions behind her, “Fine.”

---

Hope spends the next few days looking up shelters and breeders, trying to decide on a puppy or an adult or even an elderly dog, researching proper care for a Greyhound and what they need. Rosie doesn’t see or hear from Hope until her phone’s ringing incessantly as she gets out of the shower, scrambling to answer it and silence the buzzing, “Hello?” she asks without even reading the Caller ID, fumbling to turn on speakerphone.

“Hey!” Hope’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and energetic. “I found one!” she announces, clearly pleased with herself and her findings.

“Hmm?” Rosie questions distractedly, tightening her towel wrapped around her body and grabbing skin and hair products to set them on the bathroom sink.

“I found a dog! I went to a shelter!”

Rosie nods, only realising afterwards that Hope can’t see her, sighing as she coats her face in moisturiser. “That’s great,” she hums again.

“Can you come over tonight? And we bring him to Noah’s flat? Please?” her voice is begging as it rings through the phone, Rosie glancing to it as Hope draws out the vowels of her plea.

“Uh, yeah, I think I’m free,” she mumbles, her mouth twisting as she applies products.

She’s reaching for the end call button after a long silence when a quiet murmur surprises her, “Thank you,” Hope whispers into her phone from the other side of the line.

A small smile curves Rosie’s mouth, “No problem.”

---

“You’re the worst,” Hope groans as she tugs on a leash, glaring at Rosie and her amused smile beside her.

“Says the one that dragged me into this,” Rosie grins, popping her eyebrows for effect. She’s refused to assist with the dog the entire time, forcing Hope to try and wrangle the full grown animal.

It darts forward down the street, yanking Hope along, “Hey!” she chastises, Rosie laughing unabashedly from behind her, jogging to catch up. “You could help, you know! He listened to you earlier!”

Rosie smirks, “Oh, I know. This is much more fun, though,” she teases, falling into another fit of laughter as Hope digs her heels into the pavement, working to pull the dog back.

He doesn’t listen, carrying on in the direction of the library. Noah wasn’t at his flat, so they’ve been forced to take a short detour to find him without waiting. “At least he knows where he’s going,” Rosie comments, still grinning.

Hope shoots her a scowl, “How lucky,” she spits through gritted teeth, her jaw tight as she uses all her strength to keep the dog from running off into London’s streets.

Rosie sighs as Hope nearly trips over her own feet, crouching down and whistling sharply. The dog turns, bolting for her, nearly tackling her to the ground until she grips his fur to keep upright, cooing over him the entire time. Hope’s gaze is a mix of disappointed, annoyed, and mildly impressed as Rosie grins up at her, scratching the dog behind his ears.

She pops back to her feet, stealing the leash from Hope in one smooth motion, “You’re welcome,” she hums, setting back off on their path, the dog following obediently on her heels.

She hears Hope groaning about it behind her until she catches up, muttering a ‘thanks’ under her breath, much to Rosie’s enjoyment. The rest of the walk is relatively quiet, only a few good natured ribbings from Rosie or complaints from Hope filling the space as they work their way to the library, street lamps illuminating much of their path in the dark evening.

Noah spots them before they spot him, the pair distracted as Rosie laughs at Hope’s grumbling, Rosie nearly walking into a post as she struggles to stay upright. “Stop it!” Hope chides, slapping her shoulder, which only makes Rosie laugh even harder.

“Um, hi?” Noah calls out to them, earning their gazes simultaneously. Hope stiffens, Rosie sobers, and the dog slobbers onto the pavement beneath their feet.

Rosie passes the leash back to Hope, taking a step back and away from their reunion, much to Noah’s confusion. “Hi,” Hope greets back, his eyes settling back on her.

“What are you guys doing out here?” he asks, his tone slipping into something adjacent to wariness, maybe light caution.

A bright smile curves Hope’s mouth and she sticks her hand out, offering the leash and the dog attached to it, “I got you a dog!” she announces eagerly, “I know how much you’ve always wanted one, so…” she trails off at his expression.

His eyebrows are drawn tight, lips working to form some words, “You got me a dog?!” he balks, his expression soon slipping into anger, almost a snarl, with his eyes blazing. Hope taking a step away from him, blinking rapidly as her mind audibly whirs.

“You always said you wanted one!” she explains, a spark igniting in her own dark eyes, threatening to start a fight.

“That doesn’t - What were you thinking?!”

Hope’s jaw sets tight, but it’s not enough to hide the shimmer in her eyes, “You like them, I know you do! And you don’t think I listen, but I do, so I’m proving that to you!” she counters, her voice raising.

Noah looks baffled, his hands flying and mouth opening and closing as he searches for words, “He won’t fit in my flat, Hope! He’s big and - and has a ton of energy!” he gestures wildly to the dog that’s found his way to Rosie, sitting in front of her as she scratches behind his ear.

“I thought that’s what you liked about them!” Hope’s own arms are waving, in both exasperation and irritation. One hand rises to fidget with her braids, tugging on and fiddling with a few.

“Yeah, for when I’m in a house, not a tiny flat!” Noah shouts back, “I can’t have him! I don’t want him!”

Any fire that had been blazing in Hope’s dark eyes dies out at that, at the way Noah’s glaring at her, at the way he’s dismissed her peace offering, her attempt to fix things between them. “But -”

“You can’t just -” he huffs sharply before trying to school his expression into something calmer, “You can’t just do these things without asking, it’s like you don’t even care what I think.”

Hope looks horrified, like her world is turning to ash right before her, and maybe it is, maybe this is the end of everything for her, “That’s not - I care! This is how I care! I - I pay attention and try and do things for you!”

“I don’t want you to do things for me!” Noah counters, hands balling into angry fists at his sides.

“Why not?” Hope asks indignantly, head tilted back to meet Noah’s gaze directly, her chest puffed out in a show of confidence.

Noah flounders, his jaw snapping shut, visibly rolling with tension as he searches for a reason, exploding when he can’t find one, “I just don’t! I can do things myself, Hope, I don’t need you railroading me like you always do! I’m tired of it, it’s not worth it!” he accuses, his last words effectively severing any chance at reconciliation.

Hope slumps, her shoulders sagging and face drooping, every muscle in her body going lax, as if she’s melting from heartache. Noah exhales sharply, his own shoulders dropping, losing some of the tension keeping them upright as he drags a hand through his hair, playing with it to calm himself further.

Rosie keeps to the side, not sure of her place, not sure if she’s meant to intervene, and only watches Hope stand with her head turned to the ground, braids blocking her face from view as she remains frozen, unmoving, her feet stuck to the ground and her body tense. “I’m sorry.” The words are barely audible, fractures of the typical strength in her voice, before she turns on her heel, dropping the dog’s leash and running away with tears in her eyes.

Noah deflates as she leaves, his hands balled up tight to steady himself, his face scrunched up in thought and frustration and likely a dozen other emotions as he struggles to process them. He slumps forward, his previous fight and irritation dissipating into the air, the dog still sitting at Rosie’s feet, tongue lolling and a whine echoing from him.

All the while, Rosie struggles for words, for a reaction, for something appropriate, but all she can think about is the way Hope collapsed before him, like the sight is imprinted on her mind. “Come on, mate,” she finally breaks the quiet, “You didn’t have to be that harsh,” she comments, deep creases in her own forehead and between her brows.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Noah mumbles, head down in shame as he stares at the ground, blank and empty save for the rise of his chest with each breath.

Rosie steps closer as the silence drags on, scooping up the abandoned leash and glancing over her shoulder and finding Hope long gone as she does. Her hand rises to his shoulder, gripping it loosely, “I know,” she shrugs weakly, squeezing the muscles beneath her palm. “Sorry about the dog,” she offers.

Noah laughs a little, but it’s splintered on the edges and lacking any real joy or amusement, “It’s fine. My mum’ll love him, I’m sure.”

Rosie nods sagely, retracting her hand carefully before gesturing over her shoulder, “I’m gonna, uh, go after her,” she mutters, turning on her heel and hurrying after Hope.

She finds her slumped against a wall half a block away, staring at nothing with tears streaming down her face as her lip quivers with barely restrained sobs. Rosie skids to a stop beside her, earning Hope’s attention momentarily, before she turns back to staring at nothing. She’s hollow, her gaze empty, barely there as she drifts through her mind and the storm that must be filling it like a hurricane. Rosie doesn’t say anything, only leans against the wall beside the destitute woman, eyes trained on the glimmers coating her cheeks, lit by street lamps around them.

“I just,” Hope finally begins after a long, painstakingly silent moment, “I don’t get it.” She sniffles, “I - I know we weren’t perfect, but I just… I thought we meant more than we must have.” Her voice falls apart on the last few words, cracking and splintering into a tiny, fragile whisper.

Rosie nods in understanding, pulling Hope into her arms without uttering a single word, holding her close and letting her fall apart once more, shaking under the weight of Rosie’s arms around her, burying her face in her shoulder. Her hands fist in the fabric of Rosie’s shirt, an anchor to attach herself to as the hurricane blows and wrecks and destroys her insides.

Hope’s tired of letting go, of giving in or giving up, of letting her world dissolve in her hands because fighting’s too much of a risk, a hazard, a danger to her. She’s tired of ignoring the things that rub her the wrong way, that send a cold chill down her spine, that fill her skull with a swirling mass of dark and awful thoughts. She’s tired of all the hurt and the fighting, of the way her skin turns a sickly green every time someone gets too close, of the headaches and nausea that accompany one of his unbothered shrugs.

She’s tired of it, she’s done with it, she’s not going to fight anymore, not when he doesn’t fight for her. Not when Rosie is the one she’s been leaning on, not when Rosie is the one that’s been consoling her, not when Rosie is the one that’s been nice, and caring, and sweet, and gentle, and there.

Hope shifts, freeing her face from Rosie’s top as the tears come to a stop, but keeping her head resting against her shoulder. “Why couldn’t it have been like this?” she whispers into the air, a quiet pondering that’s directed more to herself than the woman wrapped around her.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums, pulling back to look down at Hope, finding her gaze distant as she stares into the space before her, eyes piercing into the street stretching before them. “What do you mean?” Rosie murmurs down to her, finally drawing dark eyes to her own.

They’re averted just as quickly, Hope pressing her cheek even further into Rosie’s shoulder, and Rosie swears she sees some colour rush to Hope’s face. “I dunno,” she mumbles, gaze trained on nothing in particular. “It’s just… easier. Comforting. You let me do this and you’re sweet about it.”

“Noah seems pretty sweet,” Rosie mumbles awkwardly, still unsure where the line is, how Hope feels about him, how she wants to feel about him and their relationship.

Her shoulders raise in a miniscule, half-hearted shrug, “Yeah, but he doesn’t really get it. He doesn’t get it when I’m upset or mad. He’s too calm,” her lips twist at the statement, displeased at the memories.

Rosie snorts, above her, Hope’s eyes darting upwards, “What, and I’m a raving madwoman, is that?” she grins, the tension of the moment falling away with ease.

Hope’s mouth curves at the edges as she slips from Rosie’s grasp just enough to slap her arm, a common reaction to the older woman’s antics, Rosie feigning pain and rubbing at the spot instantly. “No!” Hope chides, “But you get it,” she settles back against Rosie, “Or at least you get what to do. Noah would try and fix it or tell me to ignore it or whatever, but you just let me be.”

Rosie shrugs, some heat rising to her cheeks as she glances towards the empty street beside them, fumbling for a response. She defaults to finding somewhere that will bring Hope some sort of solace, “Okay, let’s get you home,” she sighs, ignoring the heat on the back of her neck to the best of her ability.

Hope removes herself from Rosie’s hold entirely this time, stepping back and folding her arms while shifting from foot to foot. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” she asks with a twist of her lips, looking to Rosie from beneath her lashes.

“Sure,” Rosie grins, slinging her arm over Hope’s shoulders to guide her through the streets to her car, Hope leaning into her with ease as they trade some small conversation.

---

A day later and there’s a knock on Rosie’s door from across the flat, a short, sharp knock. She sighs, grabbing a dish towel and dusting off her hands before exiting the kitchen and the mess of ingredients within it. Another knock sounds on the wood, impatient as it continues on and on, Rosie hurrying to reach the door.

She jerks it open to find Hope on the other side of the threshold, beaming with her fist still poised in the air and a bottle of wine in her other hand. “Hi!” she greets, stepping past Rosie into the flat and scanning the open area curiously.

“Hey?” Rosie tries, shutting the door behind Hope and leaning against it, arms crossed and towel in hand. “Should I have been expecting you?” she asks, cycling through her day in her mind to double-check.

“Nope!” Hope turns, still grinning, “But I brought wine!” she offers the bottle proudly, swinging it for emphasis.

Rosie nods, one brow raised, “I can see that.”

Hope’s smile dims, slowly falling away as Rosie doesn’t say anything more, evidently a sign of annoyance. “Sorry,” she bows her head. “I shouldn’t have come, should I? I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do tonight,” she confesses, her words rushing in a hurry to explain herself.

Rosie pushes herself upright from the door, stepping away from the threshold and closer to Hope, “I take it you usually spend evenings with Noah?”

Hope only nods in response, head still down in embarrassment and resignation. Her arms are slack at her side, the wine bottle dangling loosely in her grasp as she awaits Rosie’s harsh words telling her to leave and not come back.

“Well, I’m making dinner right now and I always make too much,” Rosie states, no edge in her voice, no malice in her words, “Take your shoes off and it’ll be done in about a half hour.” Rosie turns, striding back into the kitchen and leaving Hope to collect herself.

She joins Rosie a few minutes later in her socks, her smile repaired as she drops into a barstool across from Rosie, placing the wine bottle on the counter, a glimmer in her eyes as she presents it, pushing it across the counter. Rosie laughs in response, nicking it and pulling out wine glasses. She pours a drink for each of them, Hope draining hers rather quickly as she talks about her day, Rosie stealing a few sips as she cooks.

Rosie presents the finished dinner with a flourish to Hope, earning a laugh as she takes the plate. Rosie rounds the kitchen, dropping into the stool beside Hope and taking a swig of her wine. “So what’d you do today?” Hope prompts curiously, cutting into the chicken Rosie made and taking a bite.

“Usual stuff. Trained today, the new player’s are adjusting pretty well, and then ran a few errands. Usual stuff,” she shrugs, taking a bite of asparagus.

“That’s fun,” Hope hums encouragingly, smiling wide when Rosie glances to her. She nearly chokes on her food at the sight, coughing and laughing at the same time as Hope watches in confusion and concern, “What’s happening? Are you okay?” she turns in her seat to face Rosie directly, hands hovering, unsure of where to land.

Rosie waves her off, still working to catch her breath and stop laughing, something made infinitely more difficult by Hope hitting her on the back to presumably help her dislodge something. “I’m fine!” she croaks, working to suck in deep breaths.

“Are you sure? What happened?” Hope asks again, hand on the back of Rosie’s seat, just in case.

Rosie chuckles briefly before pressing her lips together, forcing neutrality that barely holds together, “You were just very serious in your excitement over groceries.” She bites her tongue to keep from laughing again.

“Is that really it?” Rosie nods to confirm, suppressing more giggles. Hope’s eyes roll, a groan escaping from her throat, “You’re the worst.”

Now Rosie can barely hold it back, dissolving into giggles as Hope scowls, picking at her meal as Rosie struggles to find air. “Says the one eating my food,” she grins when she finally catches her breath.

“What’s that mean?” Hope turns with a glare.

Rosie draws herself taller, even sitting down she’s got some height on Hope, “It means you showed up at my door unannounced and stole all my hard work,” she accuses coolly.

“I brought you wine!” Hope frowns, gesturing to the bottle in her defence.

Rosie raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her lips, “Who’s the one drinking it all?”

That shuts Hope up, Rosie earning a scowl as they turn back to their dinners, Hope staying quiet until Rosie brings up her job. Then she’s beaming and telling every detail of her workplace she can think of, every coworker that’s weird or mean or nice or funny, every aspect of career that she loves.

The conversation flows alongside the wine, until the bottle’s empty and the pair’s slouched on the sofa, facing each other on opposite ends. Hope fumbles for her phone, pulling it out and wincing at the time, “I need to go home.” She turns, standing up what must be too quickly because she drops back to the cushions.

Rosie shifts forward too, folding her legs before her, “Did you drive here?”

Braids jangle as Hope nods, her eyes falling shut as she slowly leans back into the cushions again. Rosie sighs, finding it much easier to stand than Hope, and grabs a blanket, draping it across her lap, “Just stay here.

Hope’s eyes squint open, looking up at Rosie with dilated pupils, “You sure?” she mumbles, her words slurring together from the alcohol that had coated her tongue.

“Yeah, you’re not getting in a wreck on my watch,” Rosie hums, collecting their glasses and the empty bottle before striding into the kitchen. She puts the glasses in the sink and the bottle on the counter beside it to deal with tomorrow, then retraces her steps to the living room.

Hope’s curled up on the sofa already, the blanket tucked under her chin, and Rosie smiles at the sight and absurdity of a drunk Hope asleep in her flat. She shakes her head, turning to her bedroom and stalking inside, collapsing on the bed as soon as she can, passing out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

---

Hope continues coming to Rosie’s flat a few times a week, sometimes with an offering of wine or takeaway in hand, sometimes with nothing more than herself. They watch movies and talk and laugh about stupid things from the Villa or stories from their lives until their tired from long days or it’s three in the morning and they still don’t stop talking.

Sometimes Hope sits in an armchair and responds to emails while Rosie paces the length of the flat with her phone pressed to her ear, talking down one of her players or fighting with managers. Sometimes there’s not a single word spoken between them, sometimes all they do is talk, sometimes Rosie makes dinner, sometimes it’s late enough that they’ve both already eaten, sometimes Hope shows up after Rosie has already gone to bed, sometimes Hope even beats her home in the afternoon.

There’s no pattern to any of it, there’s no rhythm, nothing concrete to Hope’s appearances, but Rosie soon finds that she doesn’t even mind. It’s actually kind of nice, to have someone around without any expectations. It’s kind of nice that Hope brings her soup when she gets a cold, or how Hope somehow always has wine on hand for when they need it, or how Hope tidies the flat when she’s especially busy.

It’s a casual night tonight, popcorn and drinks sitting on the coffee table as a movie plays across from them in the dark. Rosie picked tonight, a drama about a hockey team one of her players always recommends, since she couldn’t think of anything else but was not definitely not watching another of Hope’s romcoms twice in a row. They’d been snacking all night, splitting a pizza in the evening as Hope worked on some project and Rosie scrolled her phone, a silence seeping into the flat.

Rosie watches the film in a similar silence now, watches the flickering of light as it reflects and refracts off every available surface in the room. A contented sigh vibrates in her throat as she settles further into the sofa, pulling the blanket she’s enthralled within tighter. She sinks into the cushions, shifting her legs and letting her knees brush against Hope’s thighs.

Speaking of, she can see the other woman watching her in the dark, eyes trained on Rosie’s features, inspecting them carefully as blues and yellows and reds and dozens of other hues play in her dark irises, glinting off and mixing with them. Rosie glances over, finding a crease between Hope’s brows as she stares at something below Rosie’s eyes that she can’t quite place. She smiles softly in the dim lighting, teasingly, “What?” she asks, “Something on my face?”

Only she doesn’t get the chance to ask the second question, because suddenly there is absolutely something on her face, something that she doesn’t think should be there and was not at all anticipating, but honestly doesn’t entirely mind. Hope’s lips are on hers, soft and nice and there.

Hope’s kissing her. Hope’s kissing her, and it’s tentative and cautious and careful, like Hope’s gaze was a moment ago, and it all makes sense in an instant. She blinks, stunned and shocked, until her lashes flutter shut and she’s kissing Hope back. She melts into her, a hand rising to cup Hope’s cheek and draw her closer, a hand fisting in the front of her shirt to close the space between them.

When they finally break for air, a sigh slips past Hope’s lips as their lips separate, still brushing against each other, their breath mingling in the small gap. “Um, what…?” Rosie whispers against the lips on hers, unable to find a conclusion to the question.

“I - I don’t know,” Hope whispers, just as quiet, “Sorry,” she murmurs, pulling back.

Rosie watches her go, hurt welling inside her gut at the regret evident on Hope’s face, “Why?”

Hope shakes her head, like she’s frustrated with something, though Rosie doesn’t know what. “Didn’t ask,” is all she says, leaning away and turning back to the film still playing.

Rosie’s following her retreat without even realising, chasing after Hope unconsciously. “Didn’t mind.”

“Really?” Hope’s eyes snap to her, wide with clear surprise at the admission.

“I mean, maybe a little warning next time, but…” Rosie shrugs, unbothered.

Dark eyes glimmer, lit by the films rainbow of lighting, “Next time?”

“If you want.”

Hope shifts, facing Rosie head on, “Do you want a next time?” she asks carefully, emphasising the importance of the question with wide eyes.

A smirk lifts the corner of Rosie’s mouth, “First time was pretty good, so yeah.”

“Only ‘pretty good’?” Hope teases, leaning closer again, close enough for Rosie to see faint specks sparkling in her irises.

“Yep,” Rosie nods, resolute as her face solidifies into sharp stone. “Not about to stroke your ego.”

Hope groans, “You’re the worst.”

“Says the one that kissed me first,” Rosie teases right back, her smirk only growing at Hope’s annoyance, however played up it may be.

“Shut up,” Hope whines.

“No thanks,” Rosie grins, ready to start a spiel about everything she’s learned annoys Hope in the past few months, everything that earns a groan or a sigh or an eye roll, everything that makes her glare or scowl or slap Rosie’s arm even though it doesn’t hurt. “I think I’m -”

Hope’s kissing her again, only this time it’s deeper, filled with fire as Hope’s hands slip around to cup the back of her head, pulling Rosie ever closer and holding her there. Rosie’s own hands slide along Hope’s body, landing on her thighs and tugging her forward on the cushions, until their bodies are pressed together, with lips locked together. A groan slips from Hope’s throat, Rosie humming at the noise and sending her hands exploring in search of more sounds, palms grazing Hope’s exposed navel, muscles twitching beneath skin.

Hope splits them apart, her forehead pressing against Rosie’s gently, her panting breaths sending a shiver down Rosie’s spine. “What are we now?” her words only amplifying the effect.

“Whatever you want us to be,” Rosie answers easily, the question seeming unnecessary, “You’re kinda taking the reins here.”

Hope pauses, her hands clasped behind Rosie’s neck and thumbs brushing her skin idly. “Are we already dating?” she asks after a long moment.

“What do you mean?”

“We do a lot of coupley stuff,” Hope shrugs a bit, her lips twisting in contemplation, “We hang out all the time and I stay over and you make dinner and we watch movies,” she lists off.

Rosie pulls away, putting enough space between them to take in all of Hope, “Do you wanna carry on like this?”

Hope blinks, like she wasn’t expecting that question, “Yeah,” she answers, a little indignantly.

“Okay,” Rosie nods along, “Do you wanna call it dating?”

Hope stalls, eyes falling away as she considers, her voice coming out smaller than before when it finally does, “...Yeah.”

“Then we’re dating,” Rosie smiles sweetly at her, Hope’s expression softening at the sight.

Until it sharpens quickly, determination building in her eyes, “We have to go on a date,” she states evenly, matter-of-factly.

“Does that make it official?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs, falling back against the arm of the sofa casually, a wicked grin splitting her lips, “But you’re taking me out,” she warns.

Hope’s brow furrows at the declaration, the surety of it, “What? Why?”

“You started this, now it’s your problem,” Rosie smirks as Hope frowns, her eyes narrowing into a glare in the dark of the flat.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“Says the one taking me on a date,” Rosie wiggles in her spot, falling back further and slipping her feet into Hope’s lap, Hope harrumphing and shoving them off with a scowl, much to Rosie’s amusement.

---

Hope drags Rosie out to a cafe in the morning, grinning the entire time she avoids telling Rosie where they’re even going, laughing at all of Rosie’s off-base guesses and humming ‘warmer’ when she gets something right.

She holds Rosie’s hand the entire time, occasionally swinging their interlocked digits between them or fiddling with Rosie’s fingers, as if they’re the most fascinating thing Hope can conceive of. And maybe they are. Maybe the way their hands fit together is strange, maybe the way they’re so close in size is odd, maybe the way Rosie squeezes her hand or traces circles along her knuckles idly is puzzling.

She pulls Rosie to a stop at the mouth of an alley, earning a confused expression in turn as Rosie looks around, “What are we doing here?” she spins in a slow circle, taking in the desolate street around them, a backroad with a small boutique, a pawn shop, and an auto body place. “Are you going to mug me?” she asks with twisted lips when she faces Hope again.

A laugh bubbles out of Hope and she swats at Rosie’s arm, a pleased smile curving Rosie’s mouth. “No!” Hope chastises, before pausing, her jaw clamping shut. “Close your eyes,” she demands a beat later.

“Okay, you’re definitely mugging me.”

“Just do it,” Hope whines. “Please?” she smiles, sweet as candy, Rosie immediately giving in with a roll of her eyes. “Perfect,” Hope squeezes Rosie’s hand tight, gently tugging her further into the alley.

“This is a very elaborate ruse to mug me, you know,” Rosie comments, eyes still squeezed shut, a hand on her lower back leading her.

Hope huffs exasperatedly, “Would you stop it?”

“Just saying. You already know where I live and when I have work, you don’t have to mug me.”

“Stop it or I really am gonna mug you.”

Rosie grins victoriously, reveling in the way she doesn’t even have to see Hope’s face to know how irritated she is, that she can tell from voice alone, “Knew it.”

“Shut. Up,” Hope’s teeth are gritted as she glares at Rosie with her dopey smile and closed eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Rosie concedes, “Just leave my money alone.”

“Just your money?”

Rosie faces Hope regardless of sight, “What’s that meant to mean? You want my phone, too?”

“Just checking if you’re available then,” Hope teases playfully, still gently leading.

Rosie pauses to consider, “Depends,” she finally lands on.

“On what?” Hope challenges.

“What you want out of me,” Rosie answers carefully, “I’m not mugging people with you.”

Hope barely suppresses an eye roll, “You’re the worst.”

“Aw, you really care,” Rosie coos, her hands clasping above her heart dramatically.

“I care about your money.”

Another victorious smile, “Knew it. Golddigger.”

“Arsehole.”

“Says the mugger.”

A sigh’s Rosie’s only response as they come to a stop somewhere, Hope’s arms draping around Rosie’s shoulders and her lips pecking Rosie’s. Her hands instinctively land on Hope’s hips, “Okay, open your eyes,” Hope hums.

Rosie obliges, blinking a few times to adjust to the sunlight, smiling down at Hope as her vision clears. “This it? Lotta theatrics. Coulda just stayed in for this view,” she teases.

Hope shakes her head exasperatedly, but it’s not enough to hide the smile on her lips, “Look around.”

She does, lifting her head away from Hope and finding them on a busier street the alley emptied onto. There’s a little café right in front of her, somewhat secluded from the rest of the street, with fogged windows and blurs of colour inside. No one’s moving in or out of the building, and it’s small enough that only a few patrons could possibly be inside.

Rosie’s eyes fall back to Hope and her smile, “What is this place?” she asks softly, bewonderment lessening the edge of her tongue at the quiet little escape she’s been led to.

“My favourite café. It’s really small and has the same regulars and everyone’s super nice and wonderful.” Hope bites her lip, as if she’s hesitating or nervous about something, “I found it after the show, when there was so much attention everywhere I went, and no one even knew me, so I started coming all the time.”

Rosie nods along, staring into Hope’s eyes intently to ground her, to show she understands. And she really does. She understands how hard it was with the editing and the pressure of the show. She understands how bad the backlash online was at times, when people would shit on them for anything. She understands how necessary it was to find a place to withdraw, to have people that didn’t care and just let her continue on with her job.

“Well, let’s go,” Hope’s arms retract from around Rosie’s shoulders, hands sliding down to grip Rosie’s and pull her along to the café. She swings the door open with a grin, a bell ringing above their heads. Not a single patron glances their way, most typing away at laptops or scrolling their phones as they sip drinks and slowly pick at food.

Only an employee takes notice, waving at Hope with a welcoming smile as he wipes down a countertop. She gently leads Rosie to the till, immediately falling into a conversation with the man as Rosie scans the menu and the shop. There’s booths on one wall, most empty, small tables filling the front, and a mural of different climates and natural environments on the wall opposite the booths.

“What do you want?” Hope asks, turning to Rosie as the employee stands waiting, his hands on his hips and a slight smile curling his mouth.

She smiles back before glancing at the menu and the dozens of items written across it. “Um,” her eyes scan over drink after drink, the letters whirring together. “Iced vanilla latte for now?” she tries, meeting the employees eyes.

“Ooh, me too!” Hope chimes, squeezing Rosie’s hand excitedly.

The employee - Chris, on his name tag - smiles even brighter, “Coming right up.”

Hope tugs Rosie away before Chris has even turned all the way around, pulling her along to a booth and collapsing into one side. Rosie follows, settling across from her, their hands still loosely linked together on the table, Hope’s thumb tracing the lines of Rosie’s palm.

Something sparks in the back of Rosie’s mind at the contact, in the pit of her stomach, in the thump of her heart, and she can’t quite place it, but she knows she likes it. She knows she likes this moment, too, the way Hope looks so at ease and relaxed, the way Hope brought her to her hidden spot, the way Hope tried to make breakfast before opting for the café. She likes the way this is going, they way they work together, even from before they realised there was something more to them than platonic movie nights. She likes how casual it was, how easy it came about, how relaxed she is as long as Hope’s there.

And she likes the way they just fit. They fit like one another’s other half, their perfect match, the missing pieces in the puzzles that construct their lives. And she can see herself sacrificing things for the woman sitting across from her, can see herself working for this relationship and all its inevitable flaws, can see herself in this moment forever, without a doubt in her mind. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

But she can see Hope’s smile, can envision countless Sunday mornings spent at this little café, can rationalise the way her heart flutters at every laugh. This makes perfect sense, every detail and every second is reasonable and real and means so much more than Rosie ever thought they’d mean.

[gertstarlight]

a kiss out of envy or jealousy 😳😳

i’ve gotten too many requests asking for a jealousy kiss so i stayed up til 4:30am to write this!! pls forgive the spelling/grammar cuz i am literally sleeping rn

send me more prompts!!

Loud bustling sound of classical music flowed through the tannenbaum wedding. The warm haze of the sunlight escaped behind the buildings in Blue Valley as the small string lights made their presence known. Sweet smell of foreign roses and tiny cakes breezed past Beth as she stood near the alter. She had always wanted the classic wedding but the heroism put a dent in those plans. The flowers patterned her flowy blue dress as she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Elizabeth Chapel, haven’t seen you in a couple years!”

Beth turns to see who it belongs to and immediately recognizes her childhood friend, Dean Harrison.

“Well yeah cuz you moved away to Germany after fifth grade,” her voice bold as ever, “how have you been, Dean?”

“Good actually yanno I’ve had time to adjust after what like 5 years but enough about me, are u doing good in Blue Valley and all?” He had the same chipper mannerism as her.

“Of course!! Blue Valley isn’t the same without you but the town has adapted to the absence of your beaming smile,” Beth held her wide smile and started catching up with her old friend.

Quiet footsteps reach where Beth stood and stopped behind her, giving her a soft nudge. She turned mid conversation to see Rick holding the drink she was waiting for. He put them down on the tall ledge beside the altar they were standing beside.

The tall blonde haired stranger spoke to Beth in a suspiciously friendly way. Well, everyone spoke to Beth in the kindest tone but this guy was ticking all the boxes on Rick’s Red Flag Checklist. He said sweet words to her and made her smile, maybe that’s why Rick disliked him.

The stranger responded to Beth’s optimistic remarks, “wow big words coming from the Blue Valley’s brightest smile champion.” Rick watched the two sync up in their amusement.

“There was a competition for the best smile?” Rick let his tone gain some edge as he questioned the other boy.

“Well yeah it was an inside joke Beth and I had when we were practically babies,” Dean said still laughing along with Beth.

That stupid laugh checked another one of Rick’s boxes and he felt the annoyance take over.

Regaining herself from the laughter, she spoke for the first time since Rick showed up, “ we were seven, Dean and it wasn’t even a real competition!”

“Ouch,” Dean says as he fake stabs his fist into his heart, “that really hurts, how could you hurt me like that?” Goddamn his laugh was starting to bug Rick.

“Woooow you were always the dramatic one,” said Beth as she joked around with the foreign friend she once knew.

“Yes that’s because you were always so realistic and needed some fun sarcasm,” he laughed and put a hand on Beth’s shoulder to balance the two of them as they continued to laugh.

Rick felt the heat burning up in his chest, just watching some other guy hold on to Beth the way he always wanted to. When she asked him to come to her aunt’s wedding, he let himself believe it would be the moment they fall for each other. Beth’s platonic wording didn’t stop him from deluding himself. He would go anywhere with Beth as long as he was with Beth.

The slow anger fizzled around in Rick’s mind as he sighed along to the stranger’s colourful words. Rick clearly did not come here for the food or the beautiful ceremony so when the one reason he was here for was flirting with some dude, he was sure as hell upset. Knowing Beth, this was just a casual conversation to her but to that nameless guy, she was probably the sweetest person to exist. Wasn’t she just the sweetest to everyone though?

She snapped him out of his lovelorn looks with a quick introduction. Although, Rick just wanted to act polite and hold a solid conversation, his rage got the best of him. He let a few sarcastic comments slip into the conversation and not-so-patiently waited for this Dan dude to walk away. Realizing how weirdly protective he got over his best friend, he calmed himself by taking a few sips from his drink.

Just couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances and wanting to speak in sweet melodies to the wonderful human sunshine. The love struck emotion is the least familiar to Rick Tyler but the sound of Beth’s voice made him want nothing more than to dance away the night. He shivered at simple thought of her ever returning those feelings that drive him wild. All he wants is to just steal her away from the lights of this romantic lighting and pull her into the steamiest kiss.

“Hey Rick, you ready to go?” Beth’s delicate voice makes him realize he zoned out again.

“Uh yeah sure, let’s get you home,” he muttered, letting his hand slip around her shoulders.

•~•

Needless to say, they do not end up home. They left the dancing strangers and fairy lights of the wedding behind. They walk lazily on to the Blue Valley bridge as Beth tells some silly anecdote with Rick’s suit hugging her shoulders. His hand still lay around her as they both stumble around the little sidewalk on the bridge overlooking the suburbs.

Beth switches the conversation to small talk, “the wedding was actually really sweet and the little flower centrepieces were matching the bride’s dress and it was all so detailed.”

“Uh yeah weddings are great,” Rick’s less than enthusiastic tone threw her off.

“Rick is something bothering you?”

“No I’m just tired from all that dancing.”

She throws him a classic pleading look, which is all it really takes for him to confess his inner monologue.

“Actuality Beth, I have to tell you something,“ he starts, hesitantly.

“You’re not the biggest fan of Dean, I get it he can be quite the optimist”

“Um no that’s not my problem with him”

“Then what it is ?”

Rick struggles to tell her the real reason he wants to practically never see Dean ever again. He settles for a generic answer to stop Beth from questioning him further.

“Forget it Beth, doesn’t matter anyways”

She takes stops walking and let’s him face her. The curiosity was gonna bug her until he was honest with her.

“Wait i don’t wanna forget it if it’s clearly bothering you,” her voice was serious and a little nervous.

“Just drop it Beth,” his voice was just serious.

“Yanno passive aggressiveness can’t be your solution to not talking about your feelings,” she said as she stood on the bridge facing the man she thought would be honest with her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rick said dismissively.

“Rick, I don’t want you to have to keep ur feelings hidden deep inside. At least not around me,” Beth’s kind voice was the only sound he ever wanted to hear.

Rick just looks at her w lovelorn eyes but his lips slip out a different tone, “can we not talk about this anymore I’m sick of telling you how I feel all the time.” The harshness in his words never reflected how he felt about her. He never wanted to taint her perfect brightness with his dark inner horrors.

Eyes twitching and lips pursing, she said, “you know what Rick, I am SICK OF YOU SCREAMING ALL THE TIME!” Beth clearly got the memo and let her anger come out.

“WELL IM SICK OF U THINKING U CAN JUST GET IN MY WAY AND CALM ME DOWN,” Rick’s volume matched hers as he took a step forward.

“WELL IM SICK OF U GETTING SO CLOSE ONLY TO PUSH ME AWAY!” Another step closer than they had been before.

“YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IM SICK OF BETH?” his voice tunes down, mirroring the beat of his heart, “the way you don’t feel the same about me.”

That was it. Every single emotion Rick had ever felt about Beth was just out there, lingering in the air and hanging over his head.

She takes a minute to process the words he just breathed so close to her lips. Cursing their subconscious mirroring of small steps that brought them so close together, Beth looked at him. She couldn’t take the heat of the moment anymore. She needed to release the tension and his angry lips were just so close to hers.

Beth collides their lips together and feels the rage in his words slip away. All the feigned anger led up to what was the most comforting yet frenzied moment. Slowly tracing her hands along the back of his neck, she feels his hands find her hips.

She knew those heated exchange of words didn’t come from a place of anger. Beth just couldn’t sense where they were coming from but did that really matter when her lips left his just so they can both catch up with their heart. She let his forehead gently fall on to hers.

“Rick I didn’t...” slowly murmuring as she trails off with her forehead still on his.

“I hate the way Dave was looking at you and the way you laughed along to his dumb jokes,” he blurts out realizing it was his only chance to let her know.

Beth’s mind was just racing at the same pace as her heart, knowing only his lips could make her feel that way.

“And I know I have no right to tell you who to talk to cuz that’s a dick move,” he just continues to speak as he holds onto her waistline.

Beth sorta just chuckles to herself and moves her head away from his to look at him for the first time since their kiss. The confusion took over his face as she began to explain.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she composes herself and continues, “well maybe i am but more so at the fact that you’re jealous!”

Rick’s eyes bring out that signature saddening anger when he hears her voice speak the words he couldn’t. Reluctantly, he pulls away from her hold on his neck and tries to find the words to explain.

“I just don’t like Dan,” he stutters out an answer.

“I don’t care abt him, also his name his Dean,” she places her hands on his jawline with a reassuring touch.

“I kissed you, Rick,” she lets her eyes emphasize the statement and her head nods slightly as she spoke to let him know she really meant it.

The fall air breezes past them as Rick contemplates her words, he bites the edge of his lips and does what he knew should’ve done a while ago.

Rick closed the space between their lips but a lot more delicately than she had. His hands had already memorized the exact place on her hips she liked them to be after the first kiss.

The way Beth felt their bodies fall into the same rhythm amused her. Letting her hands find their way into his dark wavy hair, she’s make those small twist to keep her balance.

It didn’t take long for them to understand the wild bursts of energy they spewed at each other was just from holding in all the unrequited feelings. If it hadn’t been for her unlikely bravery, he would still be getting lost in her words instead of the sweetness of her lips. So maybe Rick is glad he agreed to Beth’s proposition to go to some cliche storybook wedding as friends. And so it goes, those two are no longer friends.

[the-kipsabian]

top five lady wrasslers ~

immmmmm gonna. go with from the current roster? idk how much the answers would differ for like all time, but yeah, thats easier for my brain to process rn lol also in no particular order cause oooof i cant decide for sHIT

my favorite wife carmella. shes fab, shes adorable, shes actually hilarious and talented no matter what ppl actually say. shes the first ever miss money in the bank, and well deserving of that title. ive always really liked her, and also her theme song just fucking slaps

it shouldnt be a surprise that i love lacey evans if you know how weak i am for strong women and the 50s style lmao. shes also like an actually damn strong (both physically and mentally, fuck shes an ex-marine) and just. ooof her arms. i am weAK

its not a secret that i am extremely gay for rhea ripley. ..also its a worrying fact that it seems all these ladies on this list are blonde and i didnt know i had a type LMAO. anyways. shes gorgeous, shes badass, hER ACCENT, shes like a superb strong and athletic and every time she as much as moves a muscle i cant help but to watch her. shes perf tbh <3

alexa blisssssss. shes like. one of the very first current ladies on the roster that i fell absolutely fucking hard for tbh?? i love her attitude, her skills are amazing, shes cute as fuck and also i relate to being 5 feet tall LOL, and i just. love her so dang much. her hairs are ridiculous amount of goals and her fashion style is so cute and im just aaaAAAAA i love lexi so much

i could have. named so many ladies on the last spot but my heart will always and forever belong to zelina vega so oooooof here she goesssss. shes tiny and talented, im so sad shes not so active in the ring anymore, but she does her managerial duties so well and im never gonna get tired of listening to her talk tbh. i adore her gear and the colors she wears tho, and. her heels. she could step on me and i would thank her for it tbh, im honestly very gay for her and i cant fully explain why????

(honorable mentions go to becky lynch, bianca belair, asuka and lana cause ooooof)

ask me my top 5 anything ~

[saintshinsou]

“LAST TIMES” (1/2)

anonymous: yo can I get a request of overhaul being betrayed and abandoned by his s/o, who like helped free eri but because she still doesn’t trust heroes, joins the league of villains. Basically I want overhaul to get his ass beat for everything he did to eri by the person he loves lmao. (Bonus points if his s/o gives no shits about him after all he did)

authors note: this is so??? obnoxiously long?? IM SO SORRY. there will for sure be the part two where she betrays his ASS but i just wanted to build up, you know?? like THIS is why she’s gonna do what she’s about to do 😤

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was supposed to end differently. Overhaul had it all planned out for the two of them since the day he laid eyes on Y/N, step by step, detail after detail. Y/N was doing so well, being so good at following him along the destructive path he laid out for them even if it meant constantly losing pieces of herself along the way. The great cost, the end result of a perfect world Chisaki always promised her, always swayed her into forgiving him — knowing that they’d be happy together once this would all blow over.

She found herself reaching her breaking point soon, though.

With her own quirk, regeneration, came many experiments at Overhaul’s commands. They’d all center around the objective to see how far her quirk could be pushed, how much damage she could take before it would slow down and completely shut down. It was to test if it was a necessary quirk or not, Overhaul had vaguely explained to her when she confronted him one day after a long and painful day of having her body shot at multiple times.

It was proven easy for her to regret using up all her energy to trudge towards his office, slowing down her quirk’s work on healing her wounds in the process and leaving her to dirty the carpet that Chisaki had taken so much pride in having clean.

“We need to see if we really need this sickness on our side or if we should just eliminate it from you.”

Overhaul’s words served like a cd stuck on repeat, throwing her the same useless explanation he had been for the last couple of days with no emotion. Y/N took note of the way his gaze stayed focused on the pools of blood staining his floor while he idly sat at his desk, his priority being that instead of moving to help his significant other bleeding at his side.

“Please. No more, Overhaul.” Y/N pleaded as she weakly fell to her knees, her body completely drained from her futile effort to come here and beg for mercy from her tormenter.

All the claims of eternal love and sweet promises he whispered to her before seemed to mean nothing now when she processed that she going through all this pointless pain because of him. Glancing up at him through her eyelashes when she heard the smallest movement in the office chair, a tiny flame of false hope ignited inside her heart at the idea that he would take her in his arms and tell her that this was it, today was the last experiment day and he’d clean her right up, healing all the wounds that her own body was too weak to fix at the moment.

She was wrong. Extremely wrong.

Y/E/C eyes, sore from crying, helplessly watched Chisaki’s hand make its way for her hair, lovingly leaning into his touch while his fingers played with the strands of her blood and sweat drenched hair. It would be deemed small action to an outsider, something that would usually happen casually in any relationship but not with him. Never with him. This was one of the many actions, a tender moment, that she would cherish forever despite the circumstances; that is, until the next few seconds.

Y/N’s bruised body had slowly continued it’s (now) slow process of healing itself now that she was stable and at peace again, calmed by her boyfriend’s rare gentle touch when she fully relaxed in his hold. It was only a few seconds of bliss before she felt his hand furiously ball up her hair and pull her up to face him in his now rage filled eyes.

Legs struggling to hold her up and healing put on pause once again, she thought against pulling at his wrist since she knew from past experience that that would only worsen the situation at hand. Instead, she fearfully stared back at her boyfriend, waiting for him to explain what was the root of his anger this time and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her head. Was it really because she was pleading for her life? Because she confessed that it was becoming all too painful?

“I told you to not come into my office until they cleaned off all the blood from you.”

Fingers gripping harder around her hair with strength she’s never experienced before, the words fell off his sharp tongue with little to no emotion in them and his stare never wavered from the mess she made. Y/N swore that if he hadn’t been holding on to her so tightly, his hands would be all over him and scratching the hives that were probably breaking out under his shirt. Not only did he have pools of blood staining his carpet but the blood from her gashes was beginning to spill on his clothes.

Overhaul was livid, using any bit of self-control he still had in his empty shell of a person to not murder her right there and then.

“Chisaki.”

The wretched name that was supposed to be forgotten between them slipped out of her bruised lip by accident. Overhaul’s hold on her and the pain from today’s experiment mixed together far too much, allowing her to speak the name without thinking of the repercussions that always came along with it. Y/N had made sure to avoid it so many times, always stopping herself before it made it past her lips but she was far too tired — her mind didn’t have the energy to recall all the little rules and precautions she had to take in his presence.

“Let’s just make it easier for you already, then.”

It all happened too fast, a blur to her with her weakened senses. Overhaul had tossed her on the floor with all the force he could muster up and pulled the gun out of his desk swiftly, giving her little to not time to process what was going on until she was met with a gun between her eyebrows.

“Would you like me to shoot you with this prototype or would you like me to continuously disassemble your body until your quirk won’t help you anymore?”

Y/N knew him. She knew he wouldn’t resort to any of those options, at least not now but she didn’t want to find out what would happen if it wouldn’t be those two.

“‘No.” Vigorously shaking her head at either option, she ignored the warm sensation of fresh tears spilling from her tired eyes when she felt the barrel of the gun press into her skin.

“So, what should your next move be here then, darling?”

“I...apologize.” It was hesitant, too hesitant for his liking but he just wanted to get this whole mess cleaned up as fast as he could. “I’m extremely sorry for not seeing the bigger picture, Overhaul. Please continue the experiments as long as you please.”

Satisfied, he returned the gun back to its rightful place in his desk and pulled her back on her feet with less hostility this time, leading her back to get bathed and healed up. The last thing she remembered from that night was looking up at his beautiful evil face and passing out in his arms halfway to their room.

She was tired. She was drained. She was pushing her body to dangerous limits she never dreamed of but it was all for him, all for the success he continuously promised her. It seemed as though recently she’d been painfully pushing herself to do a lot of questionable things for him, though. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take from him.

It had just been three weeks since the messy incident in his office, three weeks since her last experiment. Overhaul had claimed that they were unnecessary now, that he had received all the information he needed on her quirk and it’d be a waste of resources and time to continue. They had to focus on the bigger picture now before they ran out of time, he had told his men after delivering the painful conclusion he came to from the experiments to Y/N.

Overhaul’s final decision on her experiments made her regret every crying to him about the pain. ‘I should’ve just taken it’ was the only thought on her mind when the sharp pain from the bullet worked it’s ‘magic’ on her.

“It should be permanent.” Were the only words Chisaki Kai spoke to his significant other after shooting them, excusing himself to attend to other business after patching up her wound for her — the only act of kindness she would get from him today.

She hated him.

She absolutely hated him.

The one and only source of protection she had against his fits of anger was gone, ripped away from her by hands that only sought destruction. Thoughts of leaving him and dropping off the face of the earth clouded her mind while she, ironically, headed to his office in search of more pain killers that he deemed safe enough for her. Sadness was immediately replaced with anger when she thought of how useless she’d be out there in the real world now without her quirk. Even if she ran away, how far could she really get from him and his men with no quirk?

Y/N’s thoughts of escape were halted when someone ran into her, bringing her back to the reality she was forced to call her life. Looking down, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she was met with the sight of a child covered in bandages. Upon noticing that she didn’t mean any harm like Overhaul and Chrono did back there, the child frighteningly took Y/N’s gentle hand and looked up at her with pleading eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” Y/N asked the young child, noticing the familiar expression of pain and sadness adorning her young and innocent facial features; a combination of emotions that she herself found a habit for her to feel within these walls.

“Help me.”

Two simple words and Eri’s look of pure fear tiggers at Y/N’s heartstrings. Crouching down to her level, ignoring the pain that was beginning to travel through her body from her wound, she busied herself with wiping away Eri’s tears and squeezing her hand in a comforting way she remembered her own mother doing to her when she was the same age.

Just as she was about to speak up, a pair of loud footsteps made the girls look over to where Chrono and Overhaul entered the hallway. The hatred Y/N had building up for Overhaul only grew when she observed the way Eri clung to her at the sight of her boyfriend.

“Thank you so much for catching the child for me, sweetheart. Would you please hand her over to Chrono so we can continue on with the experiments?”

She knew the romantic pet name and the faux kindness in his voice was all a trick. Overhaul wasn’t an idiot, he had immediately noticed the way that Y/N protectively held Eri and the way she was looking up at him with pure hatred on her face.

“You’re doing experiments...on a child?”

Overhaul had already excused her action of looking at him so disrespectfully but the way she spoke to him, with pure disgust, was beginning to annoy him especially when she had no idea how valuable the child in her hands was. Stepping closer to them, Y/N held onto Eri tighter as if that would make a difference in stopping whatever he had planned for them. Y/N knew each step Overhaul took closer to them was just shortening the amount of time she had before she met up with his wrath again.

The motherly instinct in her just hoped that she would be the only one he’d go after right now even if the lack of quirk on her part put her less at ease.

“You are in no position to question what I’m doing for our future.” Overhaul distastefully looked down at them, gloved fists balling up at his sides when he looked down at the pitiful girl he once fell in love with, noticing how far she had gone from being his perfect, little, obedient Y/N. “She is the key to making this world better—“

“She’s just a kid. What the hell do you need to do experiments on a kid for?” Pushing Eri behind her and standing up to meet Overhaul, she stood in between them to serve as a makeshift shield. ”You’re sick. You’re so fucking sick.”

“I’m starting to think you’re getting a little too comfortable. I’ll need to fix that soon once we get time.” Seizing by the throat, he pushed her weakened body up against the wall, gaining a whimper from Eri as she watched the scene unfold right in front of her. “My love for you will only excuse so much so I’d suggest getting back in line before I murder you with own two hands.”

Overhaul’s words seemed to have not processed within her when she focused on taking him in, instead. It was frightening to think that she was once in love with this man that was currently squeezing her throat so hard that she could barely steal a single breath. The fire in her heart that she once had for him was hastily blown out the moment he wrapped his fingers around her throat, the rose-colored glasses she had for him falling off, as well.

Y/N saw him for what he was now, a horrible human being who had no idea how to show love to anyone especially not her. Their was no future he had planned out for them, it was just a future he had planned out for himself and maybe he would decide if he deemed Y/N worthy of tagging along but she didn’t want that anymore. She didn’t want to prove herself worthy to him anymore.

“Apologize.” Bringing herself back to the scene she was forced to be in, she felt Overhaul’s grip loosen up to give her the opportunity to speak up.

The silence on her part wasn’t working in her favor, whatsoever. Eri and Chrono flinched at the sound of the hard slap bouncing off the hallway’s walls, Y/N’s cheek stained a violent red from the impact with tiny droplets of blood dribbling down her once clean skin. It hurt, it hurt so much but she knew he could do worse if he really wanted to.

“Now.”

“I’m sorry, Overhaul.”

It seemed robotic at this point. Three words that had been so ingrained into her brain from being with him that they just came out whenever he wanted, no genuine sorry-ness ever crossing her mind anymore.

“Now apologize to Eri for causing such a scene in front of her.” Harsh fingers moved from her throat to her chin, forcing her to look over at where Eri was looking at them with tears adorning her flushed cheeks. “She’s only a child, Y/N, how dare you scare her with your vulgar words and a loud tone?”

“I’m sorry, Eri.”

Eri.

Her name was Eri.

“Go back to our room and finish getting ready. We have a meeting with the league of villain’s leader coming up soon.”

Roughly pushing her to the side, he signaled for Chrono to take Eri now and started heading back towards the experimental room where Y/N had spent her own previous days in. If she didn’t know Overhaul’s true colors, she would think that the scene in front of her was adorable. Chrono was holding Eri in his arms as Overhaul calmly spoke to her, his eyes scrunched up as he smiled down at her even though his words were far from friendly.

“Do you see what you make me do, Eri? If you hadn’t been a brat and ran away, I wouldn’t have to be so mean to my girlfriend. She might hate me now because of you.”

Y/N’s heart broke at the sound of Eri crying at Overhaul’s words, thinking that it was really her fault for everything that was going on when it was actually far from the truth. Cradling her swollen cheek in her hand and thinking back to Eri’s poor face, she came to her decision. She had to leave. She had to leave with Eri, now. If not for herself, at least for Eri.

[lotustories]

Despicable

Pairing: Kim taehyung x reader x Kim seokjin

Type: angst, smut

Warnings: mentions of sexual activity, alcohol use and vulgar language.

Chapter navigation

Chapter 6

You stayed with namjoon most of the next day, well he convinced you. “There is a meeting today, you might as well stay since you’ll be back tonight.” He looked at you as he lied on the bed, arms rested behind his head as you searched for your clothes. “Besides, I’m not done putting you in place,” his smile grew into a wicked smirk. The tingle feeling shooting back through your stomach. “Fine, But I need clothes.” You answered, eyebrow raised and half naked body making Namjoon snicker. “What would you like? Hm?” He have a slit nod as he stood up, pulling you in between his legs as he planted kisses on the middle of your bare chest. “Surprise me.” Your hands flying to his head as you lightly tugged on the once perfectly styled hair. “Mmm, i prefer you wear nothing.” He pulled your nipple in between his teeth, “but we wouldn’t want everyone seeing how much I’ve marked you.” Your skin was covered in marks, from hickeys, the fingerprint bruises on your thigh, to the hand marks on your ass. “Are you going to fuck me or keep marking me?” You groaned as he tried leaving marks near your breast. “Both, baby.” He sat you on top of him, his cock already hard and exposed since he slept naked after last night. He inserted you on top of him, the position letting you feel all of him, the perfect angle for you both. Your hand wrapped around his neck, the instant moan and head falling back as he slowly moved you against him. “God,” Your moan making him laugh. “I feel good, Don’t I baby?” He looked up at you as you continued to lose control. Nobody made you feel like this, it was like he knew how to hit every nerve you had. “Fuck,” You could feel his hands placed flatly against your back, holding you for support as he sped up. “Look at me.” His hands trailed your back as he begged. Your eyes met his and it was like he was weak. The way he stared at you was the first time his eyes weren’t filled with lust or hate towards you. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He huffed out, he moved one hand to your face as he pulled you down. Kissing you so agressively, the moan filled kiss making him grip your tighter. he came and you quickly followed, his toned chest heaving against yours. You both lied there, out of breath and fucked out as you stared at the ceiling. “We have a few hours, we should probably eat something.” You whispered, turning to him as he pulled you against his chest, he gave a nod and then after a few more moments of silence he whispered quietly. “What are you doing to me?” He looked down at you, his eyes with the same look during sex. The one without hatred and lust, the confusion clear on his face.

Someone had brought you clothes and Namjoon has sat in bed watching you get ready. “You keep staring at me.” You looked at him through the mirror. His lips pulling into a small smile as he looked away. “You keep looking at me.” He teased, the hint of playfulness in his voice. “Tonight, if you don’t want people to know you were here nearly two days.” He said, it was almost as if he tried to be harsh, but couldn’t. “You should arrive later than everyone.” He finished, you looked back at him. Slightly narrowed eyes as you nodded. “Are you not going to get ready?” You turned to him, he nodded before getting up to walk over to you. “If you stay another night,” his hands on your shoulders slowly running down your arm. “My bed is always available for you to stay the night.” He leaned down, planting a kiss to your head before leaving you alone for the next few hours to get ready. Maybe 4 hours later, you were unsure, but everyone started arriving. The voices getting noisier and louder gradually and it wasn’t til namjoons maid came to grab did you bother joining. “Sir Namjoon said you’re welcome to join now since everyone is here.” You nodded and gave her a soft smile as you looked at yourself. Your neck had hickeys and as much as you tried to cover them, they still poked through. “Sir Taehyung has also been asking the others if they have seen you.” She said with a snarl. “I don’t see why when he-“ the other maid cut her off. “Madam Yn they are waiting for you.” She motioned and you walked off. Opening the conference room to everyone turning their heads to you. Especially taehyung and the red head from the night before. “You’re late,” Nyla scoffed. You ignored her and took your seat next to taehyung. You could feel his eyes on you. “Angel, I don’t see why you’re still here.” Namjoon tskd, “this business has nothing to do with you.” He finished, the girl smiling at his comment. “My baby is here, so I am.” Her hands trailing his face, kissing his cheek “Some of you did good with investors, some of you didn’t get enough.” Namjoon ignored her and began speaking. “Yn got the most for taehyung, I in second, and Seokjin at last.” Hearing your name alongside taehyung pissed you off. The things you did for him just to betray you the way he did. To act like he didn’t know you. “In fact, yn was so popular with them, she got us another 30 lined up to meet her.” He tossed the list of names on the desk. “What does it matter if they’ll all just go to Taehyungs city.” You snorted at Nyla’s comment. To think of you even trying to help him now made you laugh. “I could probably talk them up to any of your cities.” You shrugged, “but they are to go to ours.” Taehyung glared at you, you didn’t meet his gaze. “But that’s not why I brought this meeting.” Namjoon cleared his throat. “Yn has brought a lot of attention to herself. She scared citizens, she’s wooed them, and she knows how to run things.” Namjoon pulled out a tiny map. “Which is why I’m in the process of giving her a city.” Everyone’s head snapped to Namjoon. “She’s in mine.” Taehyung leaned forward, nearly knocking angel off him. “You know the rules, only shared by marriage.” Namjoon stared him down. “Where the fuck would she even get land?” Nyla yelled at her brother. Clearly pissed. “I married Seokjin for mine, this whore comes around and gets hers in a matter of months. “Watch your mouth, Nyla.” Namjoon’s eyes grew dark and it was almost as if she got scared. “If you want me to lay down facts as to why she is getting it, I will.” He pushed. “Why wasn’t this spoken to me about?” Taehyung pushed angel away as he leaned forward. “Yn is mine, she lives in my city.” He was angry. You stretched your neck to hide your annoyance with his arguing and Nyla probably yelled loud enough for the entire house to hear. “You fucking slept with her,” Your head snapping back to the table, her eyes burning holes into her brother. “Nyla-“ He tried to cover it. “Don’t fucking try, her fucking neck is covered in markings, and I’m positive nobody else fucked her last night.” She was furious.

You felt a hand push away the hair from your neck, Taehyung staring at it intently. His eyes furious, but he remained quiet. “This still has nothing to do with her city.” Namjoon ignored her. “My ass it doesn’t.” She was so loud. “3 out of 7 you whore, who is next?” She turned to you. “I said watch your mouth, Nyla.” Namjoon yelled, his voice scaring her quiet. “You want to know why you don’t have your own city? Why I had to have Seokjin marry your sorry ass?” He snapped. “You are too impulsive. You will not care for your citizens, you care for yourself only. You are not worthy of your own city and you never will be.” His voice low and harsh. “Yn has proven herself to not only me, but jimin and clearly hundreds of investors.” Nyla was now quiet. “You aren’t as smart as she is when it comes to handling business. You are not capable of handling this. It is why you run the weakest city and it’s where you’ll remain.” He finished. Nyla leaving the table as the room stayed quiet. “So did you fuck?” Hoseok spoke, amusement on his face trying to lighten the mood. “Dismissed.” Everyone scattered but Namjoon stopped you. “Baby,” he called, your head turning to a tired Namjoon. “Yes?” You walked back over to him as he looked up at you. “Please stay tonight.” He whispered, almost begged. His hand on your back pulling you against him. You gave a small nod, “okay.” You leaned down and kissed him gently. Something he seemed to need because his body relaxed.

You walked out of the room and towards the kitchen until Taehyung pulled you against the wall. “You fucked him?” He blocked you between his arms. “Taehyung, move.” You pushed gently but he didn’t budge. “You are mine, did you forget that?” He growled, his comment almost laughable. “Angel.” He whispered against your ear but you pushed him away. “Fuck you, don’t call me by that whores name.” You spit, taehyung eyes softening. “I can explain her, it’s not what you think.” He stepped back to you. “Business partners, right?” You scoffed. “Leave me alone.” Taehyung stopped you from leaving again. “Just let me explain.” He cupped your face. “I’m tired of you assholes having to explain to me why you are allowed to fuck with my heart. ‘Hey fuck the last seven years, I’m getting married, but I can explain.’” You snarled. “‘Hey, my feelings were fake, I’m fucking some girl while you get me investors but don’t worry I can explain’” Taehyung realizing how you see him, his arms falling in defeat. “It isn’t like that, I’m not like him.” He pleaded. “Im tired of being treated like I mean nothing.” You were on the verge of crying but you held it together. “You claimed you aren’t like him, but you did the exact same thing to me.” You shook your head. “And you think Namjoon is good for you? That he won’t use you.” He half shouted. “At least he didn’t lie to get what he wanted.” A maid appeared, her eyes curious. “Madam Yn, Sir Namjoon is asking for you in his room.” Taehyung’s face scrunched as if the thought of you with Namjoon disgusted him. “Okay thank you.” You nodded and you turned to him. “Goodbye.” He shook his head. “You’re staying again?” The irritation sounding through his voice. “My whereabouts no longer concern you.” You started walking away. “I told you, when you got out of that car, once you’re in- you’re in.” He snapped. “I’m in,” You fires back. “But That doesnt mean I’m in it with you.”

[neotrinitythinker]

Brush off The Grime Of Yesterday (And Begin Again) Chapter 4.

Hank's never really done Spring Cleaning. Even before everything that happened. Cleaning was time consuming.

Something shifts in April. Someone intensely hopeful and new.

In five months, it will have been four months since the car flipped over in practically slow motion and he lost Cole forever. And Isobel, though he lost her entirely on his own.

Hank's been up since 8 cleaning waking with the rest of the world as he hears the birds sing a unceasing, if not slightly annoying, melody. Each moment getting closer to opening Cole's room before walking away again. time. He needs fucking time. Even if the whole point of this was to get around to his room. He isn't avoiding, he tells himself. He isn't.

Connor hasn't noticed his hesitance towards going into Cole's room yet. Or if he has he hasn't said anything. Hank isn't sure how he'd talk to Connor about this anyways. What he even wants to say to him.

Connor's been busy cleaning himself, seemingly taking solace in the task. He's bumped into him a few times, exchanged a few greetings as he's scrubbed and discarded throughout the house.

But mostly he's been in his bedroom, he's had a lot of stuff just lying around the past couple years. He still isn't avoiding.

Maybe he's avoiding, just the tiniest bit.

He hasn't been in Cole's room since the week after the accident, he's drunkenly ripped off the wooden name sign with his name off the door that he bought him for his 5th birthday and broke it into several tiny little pieces, but he's hasn't stepped foot inside the room in four years.

Isobel couldn't either, he thinks. But he doubts she had time to even try with all the unceasing yelling and blaming they did in the following four months before she moved out.

He doesn't want to go in it. Going in feels like an invitation to finally move on. To embrace the fucking healing process. He doesn't want to have to move on. He doesn't want to be the parent that fondly remembers a bittersweet memory of their long dead daughter or son before resuming whatever they were doing before the memory hit them. Like a functional grieving parent. He wants to remember every moment with him.

Maybe there is no functional grieving parent. Maybe it's a bunch of smoke and mirrors.

There's a part of him that does long to move on. Wants his heart to hurt less, not think about playing a game of Russian Roulette with a bottle of whiskey and a pistol every time something reminds him of Cole. It feels...so possible. The thought of being alright again. It fades in and out of the realm of possibility like breath on a mirror more times than he'd like to admit.

He was tired of being angry with the world.

Then Connor came. Every moment with him felt like the moment the android doctor came back to tell him his son was dead all over again. That *he* had to done all he could do because the real doctor had been in some hospital closet getting high of Red Ice.

And Connor had come in and stuck. He had torn down those accusatory, grief fueled walls that overflowed with beer and spite that told him every android was the reason his son was dead.

He doesn't know what he did to deserve Connor appearing in his life.

Androids have had the right to move into their own homes for a month now.

Connor chose to stay.

They haven't talked about it. He just sort of stuck around. Stayed.

Hank finds that he doesn't actually mind. And he's been drinking less.

And in a way, it's another chance. However reluctant he is to talk about it with Connor, it feels like a second start. A reason to try.

Maybe they don't *need* to talk about it. He thinks. Maybe it's unspoken.

Family.

Eventually he manages to clean up or throw away all the things he didn't even know he had, trinkets, clothes he never wore anymore. Junk.

Except for the album.

He's kept the photo album shoved far into the deep recesses of the closet, like it's some sort of skeleton for him. And he supposes it is one. Even if he moves on. He's not going to throw it away. Not ever.

It's a baby blue colored, daisy decorated thick mass of a book. However short his time was with him, there was so many memories of him. So many moments he felt so unbelievably goddamn lucky to be privileged enough to even have. To even have the honor of witnessing. being a part of.

He runs a shaky hand over the outside of it, sighing. The daisy decor is still as scratchy as the day Isobel and Cole made it. They wanted it to be so special

Slowly, he heads to Cole's room, a shaking hand opens the handle.

His room is still the same way he left it the morning he left forever. Aside from the old whiskey bottle he left on the floor when he came into the room drunk the week after the funeral. Isobel had been so angry.

He doesn't know why he chose today to try and move on. Shit, why he chose today to be the day he finally went in the room. But he's here.

It's a room decorated by blue and green walls, walls joined by posters of this show Cole never stayed quiet about. In a way this room is deceitful, he's half expecting Cole to come crashing into it, asking him why he's in it and if he come with him to watch his shows.

He won't. But Hank can dream.

He has two bags with him. One for the things he can bear to get rid of, and the things he isn't sure he's ready to get rid of just yet. Maybe with time he will be, but this isn't the day.

Sluggishly, he moves forward to grab various things, it feels automatic. Like he's the android.

He takes the bag of things he kept with him, setting it down on the table next to the album as he sits on the couch with it.

He sees Connor out of the corner of his eye, a look of confusion, and then slight concern as he glances at the open door of what he can only assume is Coles room. And then back to him.

"Hank? What are you doing?" He asks softly.

Hank breathes in. "Spring Cleaning, kid."

"Are you okay?" Connor questions.

Hank scoffs. "I don't know. You know Cole helped make this?" He asks, holding up the album. "He was so proud of it."

"It looks very well made." Connor says simply. He's trying Hank thinks. He knows Connor sometimes has trouble with emotional support. He sure as shit was himself.

"Yeah. Yeah it sure is." He laughs bitterly. He holds up a toy he didn't end up throwing out. "I got this for his 3rd birthday. He was so....happy." Hank never wanted a drink this badly. But a month sober can't be all for nothing.

Connor moves, sitting down next to him. "Is that a photo album?" There weren't that many people that used them. At least physical paper versions nowadays.

Hank smiles. "Yeah. five years worth of memories in 'em."

The android doesn't say anything, and Hank continues.

"You know...the day Cole was born.. I thought I was the luckiest person on the goddamn planet." He starts. "He was one of the few great things to have happened to me. He was so...small and...happy. I didn't know what I did to deserve him. This...chance, I was given."

Hank opens a page of the album to a series of photos. His eyes set on one of them. A exhausted but grinning golden haired woman with grey eyes and a crooked nose held a blanket wrapped newborn. Next to them, a younger, less grizzled Hank stood nearby, a smile formed on his features.

"Those were the happiest six years of my life." Hank explains. "Until I took him for an afternoon drive and only one of us came out it."

Connor looks how Hank feels. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant." He doesn't bother to correct him with 'Hank.'

"Yeah...Me too."

Hesitantly, he closes the album with a heavy sigh. He needed to say it now or the room would just continue to collect dust. Cole loved the room. It didn't feel right to just let it suffer that fate.

"Look, Connor." He starts, shifting his body so that he was facing the other man. "I cleaned out the room...well, because it felt...like the right thing. Cole didn't deserve for it just be a ghost town.  But...also, maybe you deserve to use it now. Cole fucking loved androids. Only feels right that you use it now."

Connor's eyes widen slightly. "Hank, I... I'm perfectly alright with going into stasis on the couch, I don't even require a bed, I don't even need to go into stasis at night. I couldn't possibly take Cole-"

"Just say yes. Alright, you've been living here for five months, kid. And you don't even have a bed." Hank interrupts.

"But..it's Cole's room Hank. Are you sure your ready for that?" Connor asks.

Hank runs a hand over his face. "No, if i'm honest. But I need to fucking...do this someday or other." Moving on.

Both of them sit there for a good five seconds.

"You aren't Cole, Connor. But you're still...family." A son.

Hank continues. "You're family, now. Take the room."

Connor stays silent, expression thoughtful, before nodding.

Hank stands, walking towards his room.

"Where you going?" Connor asks.

"To bed, I need a damn nap." Hank says in an empty voice.

"I think of you as my family too." Connor says suddenly.

Hank turns. Connor's eyes shine in the living room lamps light next to the couch, his expression is warm, content. It's the happiest he's ever seen him.

"Good. That's good." He says, gently shutting the door.

Good.

[kurtwarren54]

Pregnancy 2 // First Trimester

Figured I would do an update on how the first trimester was for Baby 2! Things have been different and more intense the second time around! Excited to share the details with you below.

WEIGHT GAINED

I haven’t tracked my exact weight for JUST the first trimester but at my 16 week appt I had gained 9 pounds which my dr said was normal and on track! I will say the pounds started packing on WAY faster this second time around. Almost to the point I was freaked out. But you have to think that everything is growing and taking shape faster and as long as I am on track with my doctor I am feeling great. It is always also strange coming off fertility treatment into pregnancy because I am not fully myself. I had been doing fertility medication for almost a year and that always adds some start weight. But, like I said, it’s all part of my story. All part of my process. And honestly, the fact that I am here, it all doesn’t matter. I am so grateful to be pregnant and have a healthy baby!!

HOW I’M FEELING: PHYSICALLY

Nausea

GOOD GOD. My nausea was 10x worse this time around. At 6 weeks, I went on diclegis prescription for nausea and took 2 pills at night. Despite being on meds, I still struggled through most of my first trimester with extreme nausea. Luckily I did not have vomiting but man… the nausea was REALLY bad. To be honest with you, none of the “tricks” worked for me either. Sure snacks, small meals, ginger, etc etc but nope. Massive unrelenting nausea. The hardest part about it is that being the mom to a toddler means you don’t have the luxury of resting like you do as a first time pregnant woman. Having to take care of an active child while struggling with feeling ill is miserable. I have to thank Blake for pretty much taking over the minute he would be done with work to help me as I was doubled over on the couch. It was rough. And rough knowing just how long the first trimester is. What I did make sure to do was ALWAYS have a snack in the mid afternoon. If I didn’t have some kind of snack between 2-4pm, I would be even more miserable. Saltine crackers were always on my nightstand along with bold chex mix, and goldfish. 

Growing pains

I experienced some more intense round ligament pain in my groin area this time around. I noticed it mostly at night. Especially when I needed to lawn, or sneeze or make a bigger movement I would get a twitch of pain from it.

Pregnancy Brain

Like my first pregnancy, pregnancy brain is a REAL THING. I swear the moment I got pregnant my brain turned to mush. It’s hard to explain but I can’t remember anything to save my life. Lol!

Exhaustion

I was a new level of tired being pregnant and chasing a toddler. Truth be told being in a pandemic didn’t help either. Not being able to take him places etc. I was very tired but the sickness bothered me more than being tired.

Constipation

Sorry if that’s TMI but wow the constipation was bad this time around. The first month or two was tough and I know it also has alot to do with how much progesterone is in my body. Since I wasn’t drinking coffee after my transfer right away, it was extra tough. I always feel like coffee gets me moving. HA! I know. So much TMI. You’re welcome.

Baby bump

This time around I feel my belly popped out a lot sooner! At 14 weeks I feel I had a tiny little bump. I am sure I will look back and be like, WOW that wasn’t much of a bump but it’s when I felt there was a defined transformation. 

HOW I’M FEELING: MENTALLY

I think similarly to my first pregnancy, after so much loss (with each of our failed embryo transfers) you keep waiting and holding your breath as each week passes you by. Each week it’s own milestone. And you find yourself thinking, “Oh I will feel good once I hear the heart beat!” “Oh I will feel good when I hit the second trimester.” But really, I think there is always a sense of unease as you move through the process. I think it’s healthy to be a little bit nervous. It’s honest. I think things have just been more stressful with the fact that we are still in a global pandemic because of Covid-19. That has put alot of stress on us keeping our family safe during these times and staying as isolated as we can while also being aware of taking care of our mental health. We are very fortunate living where we do to be able to spend time together outdoors and that has been great for the mind and body. Really, I go to bed, and wake up every day just so damn grateful knowing that I am growing life and repeating to myself that I AM PREGNANT. And THIS IS OUR CHANCE. This is our miracle. It’s been such an emotional roller coaster to get to this point and really, despite any outside stressors buzzing around, I am just so grateful and smile so big everyday knowing that next Summer I get to make Otis a big brother. 

WHAT I’M EATING

First trimester for me was CARBS. CARBS and MORE CARBS. Honestly most days I barely had an appetite because of how sick I felt but I know how important it was to nourish my body. So I would basically have to force myself to have my meals. ESPECIALLY when it came to dinner. I had no appetite at all at night. It was bad.

That being said, I didn’t have any coffee for weeks. First off because I avoid caffeine after my embryo transfer and didn’t feel comfortable drinking it until after I heard the heartbeat. At a certain point, when my nausea would allow in the am and I was in the mood for coffee, I started to drink it again. I started with decaf but then had some headaches and my doctor always encourages me to have 1 cup of caffeine to help with my headaches. What I was drinking and couldn’t stop was bubble water (or carbonated water) whatever you like to call it. I usually prefer lukewarm drinks but this pregnancy I was craving ICED COLD bubble water. We actually ended up getting this carbonated water maker and we literally use it EVERY SINGLE DAY. For some reason the cold bubble water just helped with my nausea believe it of not.  

Thankfully eggs were a lifesaver for me and I could tolerate them. My favorite go to breakfast that didn’t make me want to throw up: a piece of toast, a tiny bit of mayo, and a sliced hard boiled egg with salt and pepper. I basically ate that every day. I also had a lot of bagels with cream cheese when I wasn’t feeling great. Food was just tough so we didn’t meal plan as much so I could eat more what I could stomach that day.

As the first trimester went on, I was able to eat more regularly. I always try to eat protein for breakfast (like egg) to help really nourish me. I also try to make smarter choices and slip some protein in my afternoon snack. My favorites: string cheese, chocolate covered almonds, toast or apples with almond butter. Don’t get me wrong, some days I have a bowl of chips, a cupcake, or something else that is naughty. I think it’s all about balance and sometimes, you just have to indulge.

HOW I’M SLEEPING

First trimester sleep was rough. With the waking up to pee almost every night that was one element. It’s likely the hormone changes that always get to me. Last pregnancy I had to take unisom to get some form of normal sleep. Since I started the diclegis at 6 weeks with 2 pills at night, I found that helped me sleep MUCH better. So for now, I am sleeping ok. Some nights are better than others. I do toss and turn alot. 

EXERCISE

I didn’t really work out at all till at least around 10-11 weeks. Of course I was doing my daily walks with Otis etc and getting my steps in and my blood pumping. But I wanted to take it easy and honestly I didn’t have the energy to do anything before then. Starting at 11 weeks I started short 10 minute workouts on my elliptical that we have in our garage and Blake got me for Christmas. I try to do that, or just walk briskly on our treadmill for 10-15 minutes. There are weeks I barely get 1 “workout” if you even want to call it that. Basically I just try to get my blood pumping whether I am walking for Otis’ morning walk or doing something else. I also started prenatal yoga class (virtually online) every week and its been music ot my soul. Great stretching and a great time for me to sit and connect with my body and the baby. It’s something I really enjoyed while pregnant with Otis so it’s a sense of comfort being able to participate even from my computer at home.

MEDS IM TAKING

For most of the first trimester, I stayed on alot of my IVF medications. I stayed on my prednisone steroids till 9 weeks and then weaned down my estrogen patches as well as weaned down to 1 progesterone injection a day. During this time, I did get some hormonal headaches with all the fluctuations but luckily they weren’t horrible and only lasted 2 days. I finally was able to stop all my meds (with the exception of baby aspirin and my diclegis) at my graduation appointment from the fertility clinic at 12 weeks!!! This was a HUGE milestone after literally doing injections and taking medications for almost a year in prep for each of my FET (frozen embryo transfer) cycles.

CHALLENGES

The biggest hurdles this pregnancy have been knowing and believing that feeling like crap would likely get better at the end of the first trimester. After a year of hormone meds, and then feeling awful my first trimester, a UTI, a yeast infection from the meds of the UTI (sorry TMI!!) I got to the point where being in my own skin was just frustrating. Being pregnant is a WILD things because your body is completely taken over. It’s beautiful in many ways and also still really emotionally challenging in others. I am so thankful to see the light at the end of the tunnel of the first tri. But anyone else that is “IN IT” my heart hugs yours mamas. It’s tough!!

WHAT I’M WEARING

I feel everything comes on sooner with the second pregnancy and the need for stretchy things came sooner. When it comes to leggings, I still wear my pre-pregnancy lululemon align leggings which are high rise and so stretchy as well as my alo leggings that are really soft and a little lower rise. Both still fit comfortably and fit over my growing body. Toward the end of my first trimester, I ended up buying these maternity leggings from beyond yoga and I LOVE them. They feel like second skin and are so buttery soft. They come all the way up over your bump or you can also fold it down to go under. Highly suggest them as they are SO comfy.

Also because I don’t leave my house often (because of Covid-19) I wear a ton of sweats. These sets from Michael Stars have been a guilty pleasure because they are SO soft and made of terry material. I also love my sweat set from Tan Lines that Sivan sent over. The material is SO soft and I feel like a cool mom in them. Although Blake made fun of my crop top sweater. HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT IS COOL!!! I do enjoy wearing more cropped tops when pregnant to let the belly have it’s little bit of room. I did end up getting one pair of maternity denim from jbrand that actually fit great toward the end of my first trimester also. Will report back when I wear them out. Equally stretchy too.

I did buy 3 bras from skims that I have been loving too. This scoop bra, this triangle bra and this nursing bra are all GREAT. I wanted to see what the hype was about with this brand and I have to say the materials are ON POINT. VERY comfy. If you plan to order, SIZE UP and size up big time. I got at least size L in everything because my boobs are enormous now and I feel their stuff runs small. I also have a ton of bras from Otis’ pregnancy. From last pregnancy, I have my hatch and bravado bras that I wear weekly also.

It’s different for the second pregnancy because you start showing and feeling bigger sooner (at least in my case) so you are in that in between period of not fully having a bump but feeling large and awkward if that makes sense. I have to say, a perk of pandemic life is the fact that I am mostly in lounge wear so I have been able to avoid real clothes for most of the first trimester aside from doctors appointments etc.

SELF LOVE

First trimester was just really challenging with not feeling well constantly. Hard to give yourself self love, in a pandemic, with no childcare help. If anything, I tried to listen to my body, and lay down when Otis was napping and try my best to give my body the much needed rest it was craving. Nearing the end of the first tri, showers and a blow dry were my self care routine and even an at home mani/pedi. Feeling better was already such a treat and allowed me the time to do some other things for myself. I think it’s just so important to listen to your body and slow down when you need it. 

FIRST TRIMESTER PURCHASES

Purchases for me:

Skims scoop bra

Skim maternity nursing bra

Skims triangle bra

Beyond yoga maternity capri leggings

Aarke water carbonator

Lululemon align leggings

Summer fridays babymoon belly balm

Purchases for baby:

Kyte baby rainbow onesie

Kyte baby toddler blanket

Moby mickey wrap (blake bought this for me!)

Letterfolk sign

Masongrey baby bundle

BABY PREPARATIONS

So we didn’t do much to prep for baby in the first trimester except for me sharing our good news with my good friend (and interior design guru) Anne! She helped to plan out the interiors of our whole home including master bedroom, living and dining rooms, and most recently Otis’ nursery. I basically texted her and forced her to dream up Baby #2 nursery ideas so we are currently working on that! IT’S GOING TO BE EPIC.

WHAT’S NEXT

I am looking forward to more ultrasounds!!!! I can not WAIT for my anatomy scan at 20 weeks to get some more face time with baby. Other than that, it’s check off each week as an incredible milestone and try to remain as active as I can to help get my body strong for delivery again. It’s exciting to near the half mark and be buying things for baby, talking to Otis about the baby and just imagining our life together as a family. I honestly am still in shock everyday. I feel lucky everyday. Our rainbows have brighten out life immensely and I am so excited to continue to share our journey with you all. Big love from all of us.

The post Pregnancy 2 // First Trimester appeared first on eat.sleep.wear. - Fashion & Lifestyle Blog by Kimberly Lapides.

from Wellness https://www.eatsleepwear.com/2021/02/17/pregnancy-2-first-trimester/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[elizabethcariasa]

Pregnancy 2 // First Trimester

Figured I would do an update on how the first trimester was for Baby 2! Things have been different and more intense the second time around! Excited to share the details with you below.

WEIGHT GAINED

I haven’t tracked my exact weight for JUST the first trimester but at my 16 week appt I had gained 9 pounds which my dr said was normal and on track! I will say the pounds started packing on WAY faster this second time around. Almost to the point I was freaked out. But you have to think that everything is growing and taking shape faster and as long as I am on track with my doctor I am feeling great. It is always also strange coming off fertility treatment into pregnancy because I am not fully myself. I had been doing fertility medication for almost a year and that always adds some start weight. But, like I said, it’s all part of my story. All part of my process. And honestly, the fact that I am here, it all doesn’t matter. I am so grateful to be pregnant and have a healthy baby!!

HOW I’M FEELING: PHYSICALLY

Nausea

GOOD GOD. My nausea was 10x worse this time around. At 6 weeks, I went on diclegis prescription for nausea and took 2 pills at night. Despite being on meds, I still struggled through most of my first trimester with extreme nausea. Luckily I did not have vomiting but man… the nausea was REALLY bad. To be honest with you, none of the “tricks” worked for me either. Sure snacks, small meals, ginger, etc etc but nope. Massive unrelenting nausea. The hardest part about it is that being the mom to a toddler means you don’t have the luxury of resting like you do as a first time pregnant woman. Having to take care of an active child while struggling with feeling ill is miserable. I have to thank Blake for pretty much taking over the minute he would be done with work to help me as I was doubled over on the couch. It was rough. And rough knowing just how long the first trimester is. What I did make sure to do was ALWAYS have a snack in the mid afternoon. If I didn’t have some kind of snack between 2-4pm, I would be even more miserable. Saltine crackers were always on my nightstand along with bold chex mix, and goldfish. 

Growing pains

I experienced some more intense round ligament pain in my groin area this time around. I noticed it mostly at night. Especially when I needed to lawn, or sneeze or make a bigger movement I would get a twitch of pain from it.

Pregnancy Brain

Like my first pregnancy, pregnancy brain is a REAL THING. I swear the moment I got pregnant my brain turned to mush. It’s hard to explain but I can’t remember anything to save my life. Lol!

Exhaustion

I was a new level of tired being pregnant and chasing a toddler. Truth be told being in a pandemic didn’t help either. Not being able to take him places etc. I was very tired but the sickness bothered me more than being tired.

Constipation

Sorry if that’s TMI but wow the constipation was bad this time around. The first month or two was tough and I know it also has alot to do with how much progesterone is in my body. Since I wasn’t drinking coffee after my transfer right away, it was extra tough. I always feel like coffee gets me moving. HA! I know. So much TMI. You’re welcome.

Baby bump

This time around I feel my belly popped out a lot sooner! At 14 weeks I feel I had a tiny little bump. I am sure I will look back and be like, WOW that wasn’t much of a bump but it’s when I felt there was a defined transformation. 

HOW I’M FEELING: MENTALLY

I think similarly to my first pregnancy, after so much loss (with each of our failed embryo transfers) you keep waiting and holding your breath as each week passes you by. Each week it’s own milestone. And you find yourself thinking, “Oh I will feel good once I hear the heart beat!” “Oh I will feel good when I hit the second trimester.” But really, I think there is always a sense of unease as you move through the process. I think it’s healthy to be a little bit nervous. It’s honest. I think things have just been more stressful with the fact that we are still in a global pandemic because of Covid-19. That has put alot of stress on us keeping our family safe during these times and staying as isolated as we can while also being aware of taking care of our mental health. We are very fortunate living where we do to be able to spend time together outdoors and that has been great for the mind and body. Really, I go to bed, and wake up every day just so damn grateful knowing that I am growing life and repeating to myself that I AM PREGNANT. And THIS IS OUR CHANCE. This is our miracle. It’s been such an emotional roller coaster to get to this point and really, despite any outside stressors buzzing around, I am just so grateful and smile so big everyday knowing that next Summer I get to make Otis a big brother. 

WHAT I’M EATING

First trimester for me was CARBS. CARBS and MORE CARBS. Honestly most days I barely had an appetite because of how sick I felt but I know how important it was to nourish my body. So I would basically have to force myself to have my meals. ESPECIALLY when it came to dinner. I had no appetite at all at night. It was bad.

That being said, I didn’t have any coffee for weeks. First off because I avoid caffeine after my embryo transfer and didn’t feel comfortable drinking it until after I heard the heartbeat. At a certain point, when my nausea would allow in the am and I was in the mood for coffee, I started to drink it again. I started with decaf but then had some headaches and my doctor always encourages me to have 1 cup of caffeine to help with my headaches. What I was drinking and couldn’t stop was bubble water (or carbonated water) whatever you like to call it. I usually prefer lukewarm drinks but this pregnancy I was craving ICED COLD bubble water. We actually ended up getting this carbonated water maker and we literally use it EVERY SINGLE DAY. For some reason the cold bubble water just helped with my nausea believe it of not.  

Thankfully eggs were a lifesaver for me and I could tolerate them. My favorite go to breakfast that didn’t make me want to throw up: a piece of toast, a tiny bit of mayo, and a sliced hard boiled egg with salt and pepper. I basically ate that every day. I also had a lot of bagels with cream cheese when I wasn’t feeling great. Food was just tough so we didn’t meal plan as much so I could eat more what I could stomach that day.

As the first trimester went on, I was able to eat more regularly. I always try to eat protein for breakfast (like egg) to help really nourish me. I also try to make smarter choices and slip some protein in my afternoon snack. My favorites: string cheese, chocolate covered almonds, toast or apples with almond butter. Don’t get me wrong, some days I have a bowl of chips, a cupcake, or something else that is naughty. I think it’s all about balance and sometimes, you just have to indulge.

HOW I’M SLEEPING

First trimester sleep was rough. With the waking up to pee almost every night that was one element. It’s likely the hormone changes that always get to me. Last pregnancy I had to take unisom to get some form of normal sleep. Since I started the diclegis at 6 weeks with 2 pills at night, I found that helped me sleep MUCH better. So for now, I am sleeping ok. Some nights are better than others. I do toss and turn alot. 

EXERCISE

I didn’t really work out at all till at least around 10-11 weeks. Of course I was doing my daily walks with Otis etc and getting my steps in and my blood pumping. But I wanted to take it easy and honestly I didn’t have the energy to do anything before then. Starting at 11 weeks I started short 10 minute workouts on my elliptical that we have in our garage and Blake got me for Christmas. I try to do that, or just walk briskly on our treadmill for 10-15 minutes. There are weeks I barely get 1 “workout” if you even want to call it that. Basically I just try to get my blood pumping whether I am walking for Otis’ morning walk or doing something else. I also started prenatal yoga class (virtually online) every week and its been music ot my soul. Great stretching and a great time for me to sit and connect with my body and the baby. It’s something I really enjoyed while pregnant with Otis so it’s a sense of comfort being able to participate even from my computer at home.

MEDS IM TAKING

For most of the first trimester, I stayed on alot of my IVF medications. I stayed on my prednisone steroids till 9 weeks and then weaned down my estrogen patches as well as weaned down to 1 progesterone injection a day. During this time, I did get some hormonal headaches with all the fluctuations but luckily they weren’t horrible and only lasted 2 days. I finally was able to stop all my meds (with the exception of baby aspirin and my diclegis) at my graduation appointment from the fertility clinic at 12 weeks!!! This was a HUGE milestone after literally doing injections and taking medications for almost a year in prep for each of my FET (frozen embryo transfer) cycles.

CHALLENGES

The biggest hurdles this pregnancy have been knowing and believing that feeling like crap would likely get better at the end of the first trimester. After a year of hormone meds, and then feeling awful my first trimester, a UTI, a yeast infection from the meds of the UTI (sorry TMI!!) I got to the point where being in my own skin was just frustrating. Being pregnant is a WILD things because your body is completely taken over. It’s beautiful in many ways and also still really emotionally challenging in others. I am so thankful to see the light at the end of the tunnel of the first tri. But anyone else that is “IN IT” my heart hugs yours mamas. It’s tough!!

WHAT I’M WEARING

I feel everything comes on sooner with the second pregnancy and the need for stretchy things came sooner. When it comes to leggings, I still wear my pre-pregnancy lululemon align leggings which are high rise and so stretchy as well as my alo leggings that are really soft and a little lower rise. Both still fit comfortably and fit over my growing body. Toward the end of my first trimester, I ended up buying these maternity leggings from beyond yoga and I LOVE them. They feel like second skin and are so buttery soft. They come all the way up over your bump or you can also fold it down to go under. Highly suggest them as they are SO comfy.

Also because I don’t leave my house often (because of Covid-19) I wear a ton of sweats. These sets from Michael Stars have been a guilty pleasure because they are SO soft and made of terry material. I also love my sweat set from Tan Lines that Sivan sent over. The material is SO soft and I feel like a cool mom in them. Although Blake made fun of my crop top sweater. HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT IS COOL!!! I do enjoy wearing more cropped tops when pregnant to let the belly have it’s little bit of room. I did end up getting one pair of maternity denim from jbrand that actually fit great toward the end of my first trimester also. Will report back when I wear them out. Equally stretchy too.

I did buy 3 bras from skims that I have been loving too. This scoop bra, this triangle bra and this nursing bra are all GREAT. I wanted to see what the hype was about with this brand and I have to say the materials are ON POINT. VERY comfy. If you plan to order, SIZE UP and size up big time. I got at least size L in everything because my boobs are enormous now and I feel their stuff runs small. I also have a ton of bras from Otis’ pregnancy. From last pregnancy, I have my hatch and bravado bras that I wear weekly also.

It’s different for the second pregnancy because you start showing and feeling bigger sooner (at least in my case) so you are in that in between period of not fully having a bump but feeling large and awkward if that makes sense. I have to say, a perk of pandemic life is the fact that I am mostly in lounge wear so I have been able to avoid real clothes for most of the first trimester aside from doctors appointments etc.

SELF LOVE

First trimester was just really challenging with not feeling well constantly. Hard to give yourself self love, in a pandemic, with no childcare help. If anything, I tried to listen to my body, and lay down when Otis was napping and try my best to give my body the much needed rest it was craving. Nearing the end of the first tri, showers and a blow dry were my self care routine and even an at home mani/pedi. Feeling better was already such a treat and allowed me the time to do some other things for myself. I think it’s just so important to listen to your body and slow down when you need it. 

FIRST TRIMESTER PURCHASES

Purchases for me:

Skims scoop bra

Skim maternity nursing bra

Skims triangle bra

Beyond yoga maternity capri leggings

Aarke water carbonator

Lululemon align leggings

Summer fridays babymoon belly balm

Purchases for baby:

Kyte baby rainbow onesie

Kyte baby toddler blanket

Moby mickey wrap (blake bought this for me!)

Letterfolk sign

Masongrey baby bundle

BABY PREPARATIONS

So we didn’t do much to prep for baby in the first trimester except for me sharing our good news with my good friend (and interior design guru) Anne! She helped to plan out the interiors of our whole home including master bedroom, living and dining rooms, and most recently Otis’ nursery. I basically texted her and forced her to dream up Baby #2 nursery ideas so we are currently working on that! IT’S GOING TO BE EPIC.

WHAT’S NEXT

I am looking forward to more ultrasounds!!!! I can not WAIT for my anatomy scan at 20 weeks to get some more face time with baby. Other than that, it’s check off each week as an incredible milestone and try to remain as active as I can to help get my body strong for delivery again. It’s exciting to near the half mark and be buying things for baby, talking to Otis about the baby and just imagining our life together as a family. I honestly am still in shock everyday. I feel lucky everyday. Our rainbows have brighten out life immensely and I am so excited to continue to share our journey with you all. Big love from all of us.

The post Pregnancy 2 // First Trimester appeared first on eat.sleep.wear. - Fashion & Lifestyle Blog by Kimberly Lapides.

[thankyoumskobayashi]

au: emu is a computer whiz who meets sentient computer virus pallad one night on the web

oh boy this sounds a lot like a TOME au (animated webseries with an ai learning friendship) so im going to go off that basis. this is a quick write-up so capitalization may appear/disappear whenever.

emu is the brilliant lead programmer in a small team creating an interactive vr-based fighting game. it’s had several sections: people who want to fight, people who want to do arcade games and hang out, and people who want to do both.

the team has solved that with tsundere advice from taiga hanaya, affectionately nicknamed their marketing dept despite him A). never playing the game B). never planning on playing it C). always complaining abt it and his idiot friends to whoever he meets.

emu is in charge of the overall stuff, poppy is in charge of the music (obviously!), hiiro is in charge of the character designs but it’s mostly his gf saki who has the art skills for it. hiiro focuses on the weapons.? hey this actually works out rlly well w/ the “ex-aid cast as webmasters” thig.

anyway, kiriya does the scenery animations and coding, and emu develops the combat system in addition to every other odd job. their first test player is world-renowned gamer nico, aka taiga’s “annoyig” younger sister, who harrasses the other developers into letting her try it out. she then appoints herself as head of pr and begins blogging teasers for it.

one night when it’s late and everyone else has gone home emu is exploring the world he and his friends have created when he finds a grey cloud similar to old tv static. within it are tiny, dancing specks of magenta, yellow, and cyan. he walks over curiously. “hello?”

“who are you?”

“pallad. that’s a pretty name. my name is emu.” he reaches for the darkness, which swirls and manifests into a dark-haired figure with pixels for pants and hot pink sleeves that are way too long. a few cords are draped across their shoulders and their excitement is absolute.

they smile promisingly and then vanish.

emu tells the others abt this incident the next morning when they’re all hung over. no one believes him.

after the game is released dan kuroto, one of emu’s industry rivals, joins just to check out the competition. he’s made it his goal to be the best player there is, wanting the imaginary skill level title of “game master.” nico kills him on sight as she’s been grinding since before the official release.

emu meets pallad again, swinging on a vine that’s coded to be unswingable. he grins, happy to meet his friend again. “how are you enjoying the game’s release to the public?”

Emu laughs gently. “Yes, it sure is. I’ll tell you what, you can use that abandoned mansion whenever you want some peace and quiet.”

They slide down the vine to land right next to him. Their brown eyes burn with intensity from a new emotion. Emu finds himself pulled in by their curious and trusting nature. He also wants to protect them from prying gamers or the arrogant ones. He pulls out his custom-made weapon, the Gashacon Keyslasher, and holds it out to them.

Pallad looks back at him, tilding their head curiously.

“I… uh… want you to be able to protect yourself if you meet anyone that you don’t like.”

They don’t sound insulted, just… amused.

“Well, I want you to be able to protect yourself if I’m not around. I’m busy with the game sometimes-”

“I’m a game creator. I made this with my friends. Sometimes the maintenance gets in the way with talkingwith people.”

“Eh?”

“You helped make this?”

“Thank you for your help,” Emu murmurs, taking Pallad’s hand. Pallad nods, takes the sword, and looks intensely at him again. Emu nods and they vanish.

Nico tries to fight him after that with things designed to counterattack Emu’s special edition sword. She beats him up even more badly when he says he doesn’t actually have it. Then Poppy saves him asking why he doesn’t have it. He explains how he met Pallad again, and that he wanted them to have a place to go to have some quiet.

“Uhh. Dude,” Nico explsins, “Kiriya’s renovating that right now. You might want to go talk to him, and let this Pallad know if they do exist.”

“I’m not making them up! they do exist!” emu insists, glancing up as kiriya runs over.

“hey! how’s the long-term test going?” nico lands a hit on him before he jumps out of the way.

“it’s going well. hey, do you have any uses planned for that background mansion?”

“that old thing? no.” kiriya gives him a Look. “why?”

“i told pallad they can use it-”

“you’re still going on about that computer virus? look, emu, you hallucinated.”

“that was an excuse not to have to fight me flat-out!” nico crosses her arms, insulted. “i looked up to you as a gamer, and now you won’t even fight me?”

“he has a lot more roles to think about now than just as the gamer who could kick your ass,” kiriya says without thinking. he drags emu away while she’s processing that burn.

“HEY!!!!!!!! GET BACK HERE!!!####”

they go to the mansion, where kiriya unbars them from entering it. when they walk in, pallad is not there. emu tries not to feel disappointed, but kiriya is giving him The Tour. “when will it be made open to the public?”

“when we have 200 million users,” kiriya grins. emu gasps, clapping him on the back in-game.  "you think we can make it that far?“

"nico knows what she’s doing.” he sighs as they sit back-to-back on one of the couches. “i believe in her.”

“don’t undersell yourself, man.” kiriya elbows him. “your status has also set the ball in motion.”

“i know, it’s just…not something i count on regularly, since i’m not in the spotlight all the time.”

“you’ll figure something out,” kiriya murmurs with a yawn. emu sits up at that.

“…..are you TIRED?”

“emu-”

“are you?” he asks gently. kiriya sighs slowly.

“………yeah.”

“go to sleep.”

“i need the money,” the designer tries to insist.

“you can have my pay for the week. go get some rest.”

“emu-” from the tone of his voice kiriya knows he’s lost the argument.

“you program best when you’ve gotten enough rest. we’ll be here, once you’ve done that and come back.”

kiriya nods, and the lightness behind emu shows he’s logged the fuck out. he sighs, used to being alone, and decides to restore the protections to the mansion, since kiriya didn’t have time to.

a presence that makes all the hair on the back of his neck stand up appears, and the entire room is filled with faint tv static and tiny magenta, yellow, and cyan pixels. he grins. “Pallad?”

a pair of eyes, like the ones in perfect puzzle, appear right in the faint static. they ask dryly.

“What a relief. I thought Nico had challenged you already.”

You are.>

“…..I’m… very flattered.”

“You managed to follow her without being caught?” Emu fights off a yawn of his own. “You must have set the new stealth record.”

They pause for a while, unsure how to proceed until Emu yawns.

“I want my team to be at their best.”

“What about me?” Emu yawns while asking. He’s too worn out to guess.

“They can manage without me…” Emu mumbles, his eyes closing involuntarily.

His eyes snap open at their angery tone. I trust, too.>

Emu gazes in wonder at the pair of floating eyes in the static. This conversation is beginning to unnerve him quite a bit.

Pallad senses this and their static shrinks into their signature character. They walk over to Emu, their static spreading to surround both players. Pallad murmurs, lingering on his name.

In his own room, in his apartment, Emu fidgets nervously. “What are you going to do?”

“How?”

Pallad seems to hesitate after this.

“Is there… anything else?” Emu asks gently. Pallad and their static seem to shrink away.

“What is it? You can tell me,” Emu says earnestly.

The static was only surrounding Pallad now, and was flashing at half its original speed.

“Pallad… can you hear These Thoughts?” Pallad’s avatar glances up as Emu steps within their static again. Emu leans in to smile gently at them. “I think that sounds wonderful.”

What he wouldn’t give to be able to take off his VR headset and sleep for once.

Pallad’s static regains some of their original enthusiasm.

“Yes. You can read my mind right now.” He closes his eyes, and the tingling sensation returns.

Eveeything goes dark, until Hiiro shakes his shoulder. “Hey. Webmaster. Wake up.”

“Emu-kun…” Saki murmurs, pulling off his VR headset. He had somehow slept into the next day wihout crushing it in his sleep.

“Your work was all done flawlessly, how the hell did you manage to do that?” Hiiro asks. Emu sits up slowly, blinking.

“Would you believe me if I said the game themself did it?”

“No……….” Both other Netroyals stare at him with worry.

“I didn’t think so,” Emu murmurs.

Thank you, Pallad.

[vomitcoloredbowlingball]

Okay this is nasty and I realize that so I will spare anyone who doesn’t wanna see this

okay so some of you seem oddly interested in the story of my leg screws so I’ll tell it to you in the shortest way possible

Okay so first things first, this is St. Jimmy. I’ll explain the naming thing a little later but this is one of about six (or eight????) screws that were planted in my leg to help it grow manually

When I was really young I got a super nasty staph infection in my leg that really messed up the growth plates which, you could probably tell, were supposed to help it grow with me. Well that infection basically destroyed them and my parents were fearing for my life at that point but I got over the infection eventually. After that nasty infection this really great doctor was brought to my parents and basically said he wanted to work with me as i grew up so that I didn’t have a tiny leg by the time I was 16.

So like six years after that I had a surgery (not my first, maybe my fourth??) to remove the growth plates that were damaged and manually grow the leg. How do you grow a leg manually? well you start by breaking both bones that make up your lower leg and then you drill about eleven holes through the skin and about an inch deep into the bone. Then you put rods and pins and shit into the holes so they stick out about three inches from the skin and hold them in place with a titanium cage on the outside that can be slowly pulled apart and twisted until the bone has reached its desired length and position (if that didn’t make you shutter i don’t know what will). So that happened. I woke up and my six year old self was scared shitless of these things that were in my leg and would remain that way for a good few months. I would elaborate more on this stage of life but i was six and don’t really remember it anymore.

Jump ahead to when I turn 13 and need another big surgery because my leg is like three inches shorter than the other one. Skipping past another six or so surgeries to manage the length. So I have another surgery like that other one, this time with six (or eight???) pins. They do the same thing as the last time, just with fewer pins that are much thicker.

thats about how far into my leg these things were (the white stuff on the end is bone dust >:)) Now I can further elaborate because I still remember this vividly even though it was still kinda long ago

Okay so im in the hospital for three days, constant pain, it sucks, im tired, i cant get out of bed. The whole leg set up thing was still really terrifying. When I go home I’m all good, still in pain and rotating between two kinds of powerful pain killers.

After a little while I needed to start cleaning around the pin sites of the “frame” as I will call it (sciencey name is the external fixator) because they were all bloody and would ooze shit and it was just gross. This is where the names come in. The whole cleaning process hurt like hell so I had this method I used when I was six which was naming all the pins so I could tell my parents which ones hurt the most so they could be gentle. This time around I named them all after the characters in american idiot (the musical because the musical had enough names for me to use) this guy was st. jimmy because he hurt the most. Anyway, I had to clean these pin sites maybe twice a week and by the time I was doing it basically on my own i was just taking tweezers to it which made the sites get really infected. (dumb idea, i had to clean them more because I got them infected and they hurt about ten times more when I cleaned them)

Maybe two weeks after the surgery I had to start the lengthening process. This meant that I had to twist the nine adjustable rods on the titanium cage a millimeter about three times a day. I could actually feel that stuff in the bone, it felt gross.

Then I started physical therapy (dun dun dun!!) which was awful. I had zero mobility in my knee and ankle and didnt give a shit for the first few weeks. I had land therapy and pool therapy and pool therapy was amazing. So much better. I won’t go into detail but just remember that pools are better than land when it comes to physical therapy.

(thats where st jimmy was, theres like an actual indent in the skin there)

Meanwhile, I really hate the way this crazy thing looks. Its disgusting if you arent used to it. and people would stare like mad so my mom made me these sock things that would go over the frame and keep it hidden from everyone. They were really cool with cool patterns and stuff.

Jump ahead again to like four months later. I’m down to therapy twice a week (instead of like four times a week). I’m not adjusting the rods anymore, just waiting for the bone to grow in. Its almost time to get this thing off. I’m finally walking even though I could actually physically feel the gap between the broken parts of my bone and I didn’t want to walk because I didn’t like that feeling. Like, the bones were a centimeter apart and I felt them move every step I took (thats what walking on a broken bone feels like kids).

Skipping more time. Now I get it off. Scariest and one of the worst days of my life. Why? Because ketamine is a scary drug kids dont ever do it. They gave me that stuff for the surgery and I saw some shit. I apparently sat up in the middle of surgery because I was getting light on it and then they gave me too much and I couldn’t move without puking for two hours. Ugh. It was awful. But I got to keep a st jimmy which was cool.

Right now, my leg is about two centimeters off again. I feel the difference but its not all that bad. I wanna write a kids book about the whole thing and make more of those sock things for other people. More people have this same thing than I thought and I wanna share the experience with them.

I hope you like my story! It was really long, sorry I tried to keep it short. If you have questions totally hit me up! Id love to answer them.

[semisweetfics]

Baby Boy Can’t Lift His Headache Head (Isn’t It Tragic?)

Trans ! Pete AU based off @night-time-drabbles headcannons :) Set during IOH (?) 

A shitty interview leads to cuddling and a most likely broken hand

TW: violence, transphobia, body image, depression, negativity, misgendering, angst, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending 

Pete looked forward to the interview at first. He had started growing stubble, which had earned him compliments from the rest of the band. Every time Patrick walked past he’d smile, or brush his fingers across Pete’s jaw. It made the older man blush just thinking about those calloused fingertips on his skin.

He was excited though, because it would air on MTV, so everyone would so how well things were going with T. He was really proud of how he looked so far, and almost wanted to show off.

It started going badly almost immediately, however. The two people interviewing them asked about the new album at first, but that quickly went downhill.

With fake smiles, the blond man turned his attention to Pete.

“So! A lot of attention in the press shoots for this album are on you, the heartthrob of emo! How does it feel to be one of the most popular female bassists of the century?”

Pete felt Patrick tense beside him, and his own stomach churned. He tried to laugh it off. “I don’t really think I’m that good of a bass player. Besides, I’m not.. I’m not a girl bass player.”

The guy laughed, looking over at his co-host. She gave him a puzzled look, glancing at Pete in concern. The interview went on, Patrick’s answers slightly shorter now, but he remained polite. Until the next slip up, of course.

“So, Patrick, I understand that you wrote a lot of the melodies, and she wrote the lyrics? How well does that process work for you two?”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed, and his tone was cold when he answered. “I’m not sure where you got your sources, but Pete here writes the lyrics. He’s very good at what he does, too. We work well together, also, even though we argue in the studio a lot.”

The man laughed, brushing off Patrick’s remarks.

“Yeah, women get kind of bossy in the workplace don’t they.”

At this point everyone was staring at this douchebag. Pete felt sick, bile rising up to his throat, but Patrick was visibly shaking. He glared at the cameraman, who cut immediately, calling for commercial. The female co-host stood and turned on her heel immediately, stomping away.

Patrick stood, fists clenched as he glared at the now confused interviewer.

“Look, asshole, I don’t know how fucking ignorant one person can be, but you apparently seem to be to an extraordinary case, so let me explain it to you very clearly,” Patrick stepped forward, a tiny ball of rage, and Pete caught his arm, afraid that he’d get arrested again.

“Pete motherfucking Wentz is a man, and more of a man than you ever fucking will be. If you ever dare to disrespect him, or anyone else for that matter, again, I will personally make sure that you never work again, you got that? Think I won’t pull the famous musician card, fucking try me.”

Patrick grabbed his jacket and Pete’s hand and stormed out, dragging a visibly upset Pete Wentz behind him. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone until they got back to the bus.

Patrick all but kicked the door down, making Andy and Joe jump up from the couch.

“Dude, the fuck?”

Pete waved him off, eyes stinging. Patrick screamed in frustration, punching the wall before sitting on the floor, knees up to his chest. Andy and Joe stared at him in shock, and Pete hurridly pulled them aside.

“The, um.. The interview didn’t go well.. Go get the manager? Tell.. Tell him we..” Pete swallowed, close to tears. Andy seemed to understand, because he nodded, looking at Joe before they both left.

Pete turned to Patrick as soon as the door closed, tentatively dropping to the floor beside him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to get the golden haired boy to look at him. Patrick was so upset; Pete hadn’t seen him that angry in a long time. He hated that this was his fault, that because of him Patrick probably hurt his hand and they were gonna be in so much trouble with their interviewer for making a scene with the interviewer.

Patrick sighed, dropping his arms to look up at Pete. He seemed tired now, sadder.

“Pete.. I’m sorry for over reacting. This.. This isn’t your fault man.” Pete shook his head, tears threatening to overflow as he looked at the floor. He cleared his throat, trying to direct the attention from himself.

“Did.. How bad is your hand?” Pete reached for it carefully, fingers barely brushing Patrick’s bruised and bloodied knuckles. The singer shook his head, smiling wryly at Pete.

“Doesn’t matter. Are you okay?” His blue eyes seemed to pierce straight through Pete, and the bassist shook his head, looking down sadly.

“It’s never gonna get better, is it, Trick?” Pete shifted, sitting cross-legged beside his best friend. “No one is ever.. Nothing I do will be enough, no one sees me as a boy..”

Patrick’s hands cradled Pete’s jaw now, forcing him to look up.

“Peter Wentz. That’s fucking bullshit,” he said softly, making Pete laugh dryly,” Pete. It doesn’t fucking matter what some asshole says, or the tabloids, or anything. You’re a boy, a really fucking amazing guy at that. There are cis guys that would kill to look the way you do, to be half the man that you are. That guy, and everyone like him, are just insecure ignorant wastes of air.”

Pete squeezed his eyes shut, nodding. Patrick’s arms were around him in an instant, letting Pete cry softly into his shoulder. After a moment he tapped Pete on the back, softly rubbing circles on his cheek with his thumb.

“Let’s go to the bunk..?” He suggested, giving Pete a small smile. The bassist nodded, standing up and following Patrick to his bunk. The singer climbed in first, shifting pillows around so that Pete could crawl in. The bassist looked at him once gratefully before frowning.

“I.. I should probably um.. My binder..”

Patrick nodded in understanding, smiling at him encouragingly. “If you don’t want me to see I’ll close my eyes Pete. It’s getting closer and closer to your surgery man, and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Pete nodded, smiling gratefully at his friend. Patrick closed his eyes immediately, prompting Pete to strip. He shrugged his jacket off, throwing it on the floor, followed by his t-shirt and tank top. The binder was last, as always was difficult to get off, but he managed without stumbling this time. When he was done and had changed into a different t-shirt, he crawled in beside Patrick, curling in close.

The singer wrapped his arms around Pete instantly, squishing the bassist to his chest. Pete tucked his head under Patrick’s chin, content on listening to him breathe for a moment.

Patrick’s fingers started pulling gently through his hair, other arm still tight around his waist. He was warm and comforting, just like he always was on night when Pete couldn’t sleep.

Patrick had become a constant source of comfort for Pete, actually. Since they met, Patrick had been strongly, and violently, at times, supportive of him. He researched it extensively; Pete had caught him in his bunk several times, reading articles or blogs on his laptop. Patrick helped or supported Pete when he explained it to the rest of the band too, and then to everyone’s families.

Pete felt Patrick squeeze him for a moment, and looked up at him in confusion. Patrick was staring at him seriously, fingers brushing against the stubble on his cheek.

“You’re the bravest guy I know, you know that, right?” Pete rolled his eyes, prompting Patrick to continue.

“Seriously, Pete, listen. No one else puts up with the shit that you do. I mean,” he sighed, chewing his lip,”I get shit for looking the way I do, but it.. It’s no where near the shit you go through, y’know?”

Pete shook his head, kissing Patrick’s forehead affectionately, making the singer flush deep red.

“Trick, doesn’t matter. You don’t deserve to be sad man, you’re too good for that shit.”

“You are too, jackass.” Patrick’s eyes narrowed before he squeezed Pete again, leaning forward to put his forehead against Pete’s. Pete’s eyes closed, and he hugged Patrick tightly.

“Love you, fucker.” The singer whispered, making Pete smile.

“Love you too Trick.”

The singer hummed, kissing Pete’s nose once before pulling back, letting him get comfortable. Patrick started singing as soon as he was settled, fingers pulling through Pete’s hair softly. The bassist fell asleep quickly, listening to the quiet thrumming of Patrick’s heartbeat.

AN: i could post more but it’s late and im gonna be busy tomorrow, so i leave you with this. May post to ao3 and wattpad too for the hell of it. 

[mindasvastasspace]

Reunion with Mom, pt 1 (self para)

Boarding the plane, Kylar’s mind was racing with so many scenarios of how things were going to work out the moment he stepped off the plane and reunited with his mother. Given their...colorful...past together, he’d been hesitant to even bother to show up this year for Christmas, seeing as she’s been one of the main sources of his childhood traumas he’d had the burden of bearing his entire life. But he’d sensed a change in her over the past month or so, over texts and phone calls to one another—as if she’d finally realized that he was her SON. Her family. Her one child she’d been given to as a miracle. That change is what had convinced Kylar to come back home for the holidays. If they hadn’t been talking and getting a better understanding of each other over the past month, Kylar would’ve stayed in Florida, or taken Mason up on his offer to go to Canada for Christmas. After getting off the plane, he sent his mom a quick text to let her know he’d landed safely and headed right down to baggage claim to grab his now-overly stuffed luggage, thanks to his shopping and “father-son”bonding weekend he’d had worth Gerard (who at this point was a better father than his own flesh and blood.) He’d planned out to meet his mother around baggage claim, so he picked a spot where he’d be easy to find, set his suitcase down and played around on his phone for a while, texting his friends to let them know he was okay, and to the few he trusted explained how he was actually feeling, considering the situation. Nervous, anxious, happy and excited; all lumped into one emotion he honestly had no idea how to categorize. But it was making him antsy. Completely on edge. Enough to have him standing with one hand in his pocket and playing with his fidget cube and typing with the other. After a few more minutes, he heard a familiar voice calling his name, and felt his heart freeze.

“Kylar!!” He looked around, not knowing where that voice was coming from. He felt his heart racing faster, the fight or flight reaction he got every time he spoke to his mother once again taking over his body. If he ran, he could easily get away. But no. He had to face his fears. He wanted things to change between them. When he finally saw her, his jaw dropped.

His mother looked completely different. Her hair was more tame, was what he first noticed. It wasn’t the way-too-perfectly sculpted, Christian stepford wife do up she’d always had that he’d been so used to seeing. It was dyed blonde, straightened, and honestly framed her face very well. Instead of pastel sweaters and slacks, she was in a nice red pea coat and black leggings, a white scarf around her neck and tucked into her jacket, with a matching beanie on her head. She looked like a completely different person. Enough for Kylar to not even recognize her at first.

“M-Mom...?” He spoke slowly, pocketing his phone and bit his lip. Her smile was the same it’d always been, and that was what made him realize it was actually her. “H...hi, I didn’t even recognize you.”

“Ky...” she walked a little closer, unsure as to go in for a hug or not. They’d never been that close.

“Yes, Hi, Mom. It’s me. Your gay son. Hello.” Kylar said flatly, pocketed his phone, slung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed his suitcase. “You look different. Can we go now?”

“Kylar. I know what you’re thinking and we have a lot to talk about—“

“You have no idea what I’m thinking right now, honestly. Im cold, Im tired and hungry and I just wanna get home, okay?” He paused, realizing he might be being a little too harsh. “I’m sorry, I’m just. This is really, really hard hard for me, Mom. But I’ll tone it down. I don’t wanna be angry right now. You really do look great.”

“I know. I get it. And, um. Thanks.” She smiled back, seeming like she took the compliment to heart. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”

He followed her to the car, without another word, lost inside his own thoughts. He knew he had every right to be heartless to her, but that’s just not who he was at all. He did have a grudge and a lifetime of resentment towards her, but. It just wasn’t in him to be so cold. He literally did not have the capability to be angry for more than a few minutes at a time. The last time he saw his mom was on his 21st birthday, where she was nowhere near in control of herself. She’d always seemed fine on the outside, what with the usual church-lady attire and bright sunny demeanor. But when it came to her son she’d always been nasty. Verbally abusive, cold, and ignorant. Completely unaware of the abuse she’d been dealing him his entire life, always hopped up on pills and downing booze the moment the clock hit noon. But now she seemed like a completely different person, and Kylar didn’t know how to process that. Was she just fooling him? Manipulating him to try and get him back? Or was she actually in this with his best interest in mind? He had no idea, and that was part of the reason why he’d been so nervous and anxiety ridden ever since his trip back to Chicago had been set in stone.

The car ride back was, for lack of a better word, awkward. He didn’t speak, his words still spinning around in his head every time he tried to grasp at something to say. She didn’t speak either, so between the radio and the sound of the road under them, it’d been pretty silent. The house looked all-too-familiar once they parked by the curb, and again, Kylar felt that surge of anxiety course through him. This was the house that he’d spent his senior year in, the old, run down little townhouse in the heart of south side Chicago that he’d tried to forget about the past two years. The scene of the crime, he thought. This relic of the past was the last thing he’d looked at before he packed up and left. Part of him regretted it, but the bigger one knew it’d been the right thing to do at the time. But here he was now, nearly 3 years later, and it looked exactly the same as it always had. Old, run down windows, slightly peeling paint on the sidings, and a short flight of run down stairs leading up to the barely-crooked front door. As he got out of the car, he looked up at the top left window, the one he’d snuck out of so many times in the past. A tiny remnant of the makeshift rope ladder he’d crafted years before was still visible hanging off of the windowsill. Seeing that made him smile a bit. A smile which faded away the moment he remembered why he’d snuck out countless times in the middle of the night.

I have to see him while I’m here,he thought. His ex. The one person he knew that was in town that never judged him for who he was. Dean was coming back in a few days, but until then? Nobody. He’d promised he would meet up with his ex, since they were still extremely close and obviously still had strong feelings for each other. but that was a whole different train of thought Kylar forced himself to log away for now. After taking a slow, deep breath to calm himself, he walked up the rickity steps, careful to avoid the rotted wood on the third step up and waited for his mom to open the door, expecting to see the same old, far-too-clean OCD interior he’d been so familiar with growing up.

“Welcome home.” His Mom said, opening the door for him and let him step inside first. He watched his feet as he crossed the threshold, stopping in his tracks the moment he looked up. The house was somewhat the same, with furniture in the same exact places and the stairs leading upstairs to his right. But something felt different—he couldn’t quite place it, but it felt more homey. Less stepford kind of creepy. His mom had apparently decorated before he got there, with tinsel and multicolored lights lining the hand rail of the stairs, christmassy decorations hanging on the walls and scattered around the kitchen and living room. She actually had a tree for once, which was new to him. All they ever could afford before was skimpy, run down spruce trees that nobody else would buy from the lots but this? This was a real, tall pine tree, the aroma coming from it somewhat soothing to Kylar.

“Wow...you went all out didn’t you?” He offered a smile, this one actually genuine. She returned it with a nod as she took off her jacket and hung it next to the door.

“Eh, it’s nothing really.” She replied. One of the phrases Kylar had inherited. “I just wanted you to feel welcomed back. Since , well.” She huffed. “it’s been a while.”

“Yeah....” Kylar silently replied. “So I’m gonna go put my stuff in my room. I’ll be back down in a bit.” Without waiting for a reply, he hopped up the stairs by two and walked down the hall to his old bedroom, not surprised that a single picture of him was on the walls. He expected that. But what he didn’t expect was that his room had looked exactly the same as it did when he’d up and left. The band posters on the walls, anime action figures lining the shelves where he could fit them between his books; his sewing machine against the wall and the vinyl record player in the corner next to his TV...everything had been preserved exactly like it was before. Even his sheets were the same black and grey striped ones, just washed for once and neatly tucked under the bed. His little Stitch doll was even still on his pillow, exactly how he’d left it.

“Hey, Stitch...” he couldn’t help but smile as he dropped his suitcase on the floor and went to sit on his bed, put the Stitch doll in his lap and played with the oversized ears. Looking over it, he saw the stain on the doll’s hand from when he’d spilled black dye on it when he’d changed his hair. There were some good memories in here, he thought, and once he realized that, he actually felt glad he’d come back home. Fighting back some tears, he set Stitch back down and took out his phone, laid down on his neatly made bed and texted back some friends, letting them know how he was doing. Because he honestly was, deep down. Still a little anxious, but less so now that he was in his safe space. The one room in the house he couldn’t be touched or hurt in. Halfway through replying to Olly, he remembered something. He set his phone down, shifted to look under the bed and blindly reached around until he pulled out a cardboard box, and immediately felt a huge grin form.

“Oh my god...” he said aloud, pulling the box out a little more before picking it up to put in his lap. all this old, prototype, amateur photography was still in here. All the Polaroids of him and his friends from Detroit before he moved, along with old ones with him and Dean. A million of himself and his ex, which was a pretty harsh sting to the heart. and some of his friends from Chicago as well. That really hit him hard, and he couldn’t stop the tears this time and just started sobbing, enough to have to set the box aside as to not ruin the memories of his past and just let the tears fall. Hearing his mom coming up the stairs, he quickly sat up and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, smiled, and looked up right as she walked into the doorway. He figured she knew how he was feeling, seeing as she didn’t ask questions.

“Um. I made some cocoa if you want some?” she smiled. Kylar nodded and wiped his eye of a stray tear, smiling back.

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be down in a minute.” He replied. She nodded, and he stopped her as she turned to leave. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?” She turned back, almost with a hopeful look on her face.

“Thank you...for letting me come back. I know we weren’t on the best of terms and we still aren’t exactly but—”

“Kylar, shh. You don’t have to say another word. You’re welcome, honey.” He looked up at her. She’d never in his life called him that before. Admittedly, that did make him feel a little warm inside. Standing up, he hugged his arm to himself and bit his lip, as if not knowing what else to say at the moment. Before he knew it, he felt himself practically falling forward, unable to control his body and hugged his mother for the first time in years, the tears escaping him once again.

“Fuck, I’m. I’m s-sorry I left. I’m so f-fucking sorry...Mom. I just felt so trapped, and hurt, and unwanted and I thought you hated me and I didn’t know what else to d-do and, and—” He managed to let out a jumbled stream of words before he could even think about what he was saying. Feeling her hug him back made the tears fall even harder, a small wail and a deep inhale escaping him.

“shhhh just take a deep breath.” His Mom replied, somehow a lot calmer than he was. Like she had had plenty of time to think of exactly what to say. “you have nothing to be sorry for. You did exactly what you should have done.” she pulled him away so she could get a good look at his face, holding his head in her hands, tears forming in her eyes as well. The same big, brown eyes she’d given to her son. “I’ve been absolutely awful to you. Horrid. And beyond wretched and unfair. There’s not even a word for how horribly I’ve treated you and it. It took you leaving for me to realize that.” Kylar was speechless, and could only respond with another gasp for air and a nod, hugging her tighter. “There’s nothing in this world I can do to ever, ever make up for the things I’ve done. The things I’ve said to you. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to try, baby. I love you. You’re my son. My only son. and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that, Kylar. I can’t change who you are. I never should have tried. And I’m proud of you. Im so fucking proud of you.” Kylar let out another muffled sob against her shoulder. “And I know sorry doesn’t mean anything, I know that....” all those words were exactly what he needed to hear. What he’d waited for her to say for the last decade. She’d been emotionally manipulative in the past to have things go her way but this. This was different. something resonated in her tone for him to realize that she most likely did mean every word she said. And that meant the world to him. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders after years of it constantly being there, keeping him down and burdening him.

After a couple more minutes, Kylar finally collected himself and let her go, smiled sheepishly and wiped his hands over his face.

“God, I probably look like a mess...” he managed a haughty laugh, sniffling quietly as he wiped his eyes dry. “That cocoa sounds really good about now.”

“Awww...” his mom ruffled his hair, just like she’d always done when he was a kid. But this time it wasn’t menacing. It was actually a comforting gesture for once. “C’mon. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” With another sniffle, Kylar nodded and let her lead the way downstairs.

Over multiple mugs of cocoa, his mom got Kylar up to speed. After he’d left, she’d been upset. All the calls he ignored from her, the unanswered texts and emails...it had taken her a long time to realize just how her son had felt, but when it did hit her, it hit her hard. She realized without him, she was completely alone. Her husband had walked out on them a year prior to Kylar leaving, and got together with a younger woman. Whom she’d found out he’d been cheating on her with for the last couple years. Kylar had seen that one from a mile away and even commented, into a drink of cocoa, “fucking called it.” After that realization of hers, she’d turned to the church and found Jesus, as she always did. Kylar wasn’t religious at all, so he kind of tuned out at that part of her story and let his mind wander as he half-listened, half processed what was actually happening. She prayed, begged for forgiveness, and started on her own journey of personal reflection and reformation. She quit drinking, stopped downing Xanax like candy and changed her appearance,ultimately becoming a better version of herself. And when she was finally satisfied with that, got back in touch with her son and insisted he come home for Christmas. Kylar let her talk with no interjections besides the occasional “asshole” and “dickless fucktard” when his father was mentioned, each time gripping his mug a little tighter. Ultimately, they had a nice, lengthy chat, catching each other up on their lives. This was probably the most meaningful conversation they’d ever had between the two of them, and for once it didn’t end in a huge argument and him storming off upstairs to hole himself away and dissociate. He told her about Florida, and school, and hid new apartment. About how close he was to Magic Kingdom, and how he’d scored his job at the studio thanks to a very, very close friend of his he considered a sister he’d never had. He told her about all his other new friends he’d made, famous or not, and now he was tight with the “emo guy from fall out boy” and the “eccentric artist of my chemical romance”. Both of which she was in awe of, seeing as they were all he talked about all through his teenage years. He still had posters of both of them up on the walls of his bedroom and had no intentions of ever taking them down.

“My, my, my little boy’s all grown up.” She smiled at him. Kylar just shrugged and took another drink of cocoa.

“Eh.” He replied. “Where it counts I guess.I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing half the time.”

“Uh huh. You still doing that, um. Cos...play? Is that what it’s called?”

“Yeah, what you used to call glorified dress up. Remember? You said that any hack could do it because it’s the same as Halloween?” He replied with every amount of sass he could possibly put into words. He could see the pain in her face as she heard that and it was, admittedly, satisfying to see. His smirk proved that.

“Yeah...that. I don’t even remember saying that.”

“It’s okay, Mom. You’re not the only one that thinks it’s weird and a waste of time. But it’s fun, and elaborate, if you wanna make something that means something to you. And it takes a lot more effort than you think. You should see some of the stuff I’m working on now. Been sewing and drawing them out for weeks now.”

“I would love to.” She smiled back, nodding. That response made him feel pretty good.

“Cool. My friend Olly took some pictures of me as Sora at Disneyworld so I can dig those up and show you later?”

“Sounds great, Ky.”

“Cool.” He felt another smile grace across his face. “Listen, um. I’m exhausted, it’s been a long week and I’ve cried more the past few days than I have in months so I really need to sleep for a while. But we can talk some more later? Grab some lunch?” He got up from the table as he spoke, rinsed out his mug and set it in the dishwasher and started headed toward the stairs, stopping on the first one as his mom responded.

“Of course. I did promise you ice skating, after all.”

“Oh yeah, no, I didn’t forget about that. You’ve got like two years to catch up on, Mom.”

“I know. We’ll get there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we will.” Kylar nodded, smiling to hold back another wave of emotions and headed back upstairs to his bedroom. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he stood in place for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around what an emotional, eventful morning it had been, and finally found it in himself to flop down, face first, into his bed, and cuddled up with his beloved Stitch.

“It’s gonna be okay, little guy.” He said aloud, hugging the doll tightly. Within minutes, he was fast asleep, with a single tear slowly trailing down his cheek.

[apsbicepstraining]

How to quit carbohydrate this year: ‘It’s a lifestyle change , not a diet’

Week four is when most people event a disintegrate, and excavation is monumental. But by week six, Ive come through the other side

Its Monday night, and Im clutching an eight-pack of mini Kelloggs cereals in the queue of my neighbourhood corner browse, hoping I dont see anyone I know. This is the next best situation to the full container of Coco Pops Ive been imploring all day.

Call it a regression to the simpler cracking, crackling and popping of children, but theres sanctuary in a bowl of something sweet and crunchy, topped with ice-cold milk. And during a particularly trying few months( Im about to get married, my mothers been diagnosed with cancer ), it has become a welcome part of my night number.

From the World Health Organisation halving its recommended daily carbohydrate intake from 10 teaspoons( about 40 g) to five in 2014, to the UK authorities plans for a charge on sugary soft drink in 2018, weve all had the memoranda: carbohydrate is immorality. But me? Im a healthy eater. I juice in the mornings; I weigh my five a era. I keep a piling of snacks on my table that have wholesome words written on them such as raw, natural and nutritious.

Yet I dont feel so smug when Im wolfing down a container of chocolate-flavoured smoke rice, barely through the door, coating still on. I appear tired and petulant. Ive not been paying much attention to my diet lately; I just know that my climates are all over the place and my paunch is often bloated. Later that night, I log what Ive feed into the nutritional app, My Fitness Pal. A typical era light-green juice and porridge for breakfast; baked potato for lunch; chicken, brown rice and salad for dinner; plus two parts of fruit as snacks comes in at a whopping 47 g of carbohydrate. Im shocked.

Can I genuinely cut out carbohydrate altogether, and is there any detail? I sign up for an eight-week online program, I Quit Sugar, created by a glowing, sparky Australian writer announced Sarah Wilson. Shes no nutritionist: she discontinued carbohydrate as an experiment, and spotted it so advantageous that she caused a step-by-step programme. One and a half million people had now been signed up.

Every Thursday, I am communicated a grocery list and a snack plan for the week ahead. On Sunday, Ill prepare in advance and freeze what I can, aka The Cook Off. Theres a discussion gathering on the locate, as well as experts, including physicians, nutritionists and personal coaches, available to answer queries. Its a lifestyle change rather than a diet, the idea owing to the fact that if you switch your palate to savoury, and supplant sugar with fat, youll eventually stop imploring anything sugared. Follow the program, and you cut down in week one, go cold turkey between weeks two and five, and gradually reintroduce a little bit of sweetness between weeks six and eight.

I feel overloaded by intelligence. First, what am I actually giving up? When I talk about discontinuing carbohydrate, Im talking about discontinuing fructose, Wilson tells me. Fructose is the adversary. Its added sugar hidden in processed foods such as fruit juice, ketchup and eat. Its addictive, obliges us dine more and accumulates itself in the liver, forming it harder to break down than flab.

To put this into situation, full-fat yoghurt naturally contains around a teaspoon of carbohydrate( 4g ), whereas fat-free fruit yoghurt contains around six teaspoons. Our figures are designed to metabolise the fructose equivalent of two tiny portions of return a daytime. A small bottle of apple juice contains nine teaspoons.

I approach week one flavor motivated( cleaning out every last raisin from the kitchen ), until the prospect of cooking a batch of curried parsnip fritters followed by apple bircher muffins( and thats only on the first Sunday) pushes me over the edge. I burn off a panicky email to the I Quit Sugar place to explain this isnt for me.

Theyre clearly allows one to sugar-free slackers; I get a friendly email reminding me that everything I truly need to remember is the slogan Jerf: Precisely Eat Real Food. You is fully penalty if you gobble an abundance of fresh develop, fleshes, dairy and fattens. If it comes in a packet, try and escape it. If you cant, opt for the ones with the least number of ingredients, and always less than 5g of carbohydrate per 100 g. The complicated-looking meal schedules are actually flexible, they say, and I am directed to helpful guides on the website( from an eating-out cheater expanse to a sandwich-making template ).

Replacing sugar with fatty is easier than it resounds. My new breakfast is eggs and avocado, or buttery mushrooms on sourdough, while for dinner its bangers and mash or roasted chicken. I dont is very hard to supplant dessert with a cheeseboard, and a glass of red wine with dinner five times a week is helped, because it helps digestion. But is it any healthier?

Week four is when most people know-how a crash, and excavation is monumental. I get very drunk on Jgerbombs( 25 g sugar per drink) at my hen do and nurse my hangover with pizza( 7g sugar in merely a single slice ). I have headaches and psychological outbursts for epoches. But by week six, I seem as if Ive come through the other side; Ive not only stopped having thirsts, I have a savoury palate.

Im just a sign girl for the programme of activities Ive actually gained weight but this wasnt about dieting. Eight weeks on, Im in control of my cravings, I have more force, and I cant even stomach a piece of fruit, let alone a bowl of Coco Pops. Alcohol is another story, but theres ever 2018 to tackle that monster.

The I Discontinue Sugar programme extends every eight weeks, and costs from 89; going to see iquitsugar.com for details.

Start here

Swap juice for a piece of entire fruit

Ditch processed foods and check descriptions: avoid anything with more than 5g carbohydrate per 100 g

Switch to full fatty foods

The post How to quit carbohydrate this year: ‘It’s a lifestyle change , not a diet’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

How to quit carbohydrate this year: ‘It’s a lifestyle change , not a diet’

Week four is when most people event a disintegrate, and excavation is monumental. But by week six, Ive come through the other side

Its Monday night, and Im clutching an eight-pack of mini Kelloggs cereals in the queue of my neighbourhood corner browse, hoping I dont see anyone I know. This is the next best situation to the full container of Coco Pops Ive been imploring all day.

Call it a regression to the simpler cracking, crackling and popping of children, but theres sanctuary in a bowl of something sweet and crunchy, topped with ice-cold milk. And during a particularly trying few months( Im about to get married, my mothers been diagnosed with cancer ), it has become a welcome part of my night number.

From the World Health Organisation halving its recommended daily carbohydrate intake from 10 teaspoons( about 40 g) to five in 2014, to the UK authorities plans for a charge on sugary soft drink in 2018, weve all had the memoranda: carbohydrate is immorality. But me? Im a healthy eater. I juice in the mornings; I weigh my five a era. I keep a piling of snacks on my table that have wholesome words written on them such as raw, natural and nutritious.

Yet I dont feel so smug when Im wolfing down a container of chocolate-flavoured smoke rice, barely through the door, coating still on. I appear tired and petulant. Ive not been paying much attention to my diet lately; I just know that my climates are all over the place and my paunch is often bloated. Later that night, I log what Ive feed into the nutritional app, My Fitness Pal. A typical era light-green juice and porridge for breakfast; baked potato for lunch; chicken, brown rice and salad for dinner; plus two parts of fruit as snacks comes in at a whopping 47 g of carbohydrate. Im shocked.

Can I genuinely cut out carbohydrate altogether, and is there any detail? I sign up for an eight-week online program, I Quit Sugar, created by a glowing, sparky Australian writer announced Sarah Wilson. Shes no nutritionist: she discontinued carbohydrate as an experiment, and spotted it so advantageous that she caused a step-by-step programme. One and a half million people had now been signed up.

Every Thursday, I am communicated a grocery list and a snack plan for the week ahead. On Sunday, Ill prepare in advance and freeze what I can, aka The Cook Off. Theres a discussion gathering on the locate, as well as experts, including physicians, nutritionists and personal coaches, available to answer queries. Its a lifestyle change rather than a diet, the idea owing to the fact that if you switch your palate to savoury, and supplant sugar with fat, youll eventually stop imploring anything sugared. Follow the program, and you cut down in week one, go cold turkey between weeks two and five, and gradually reintroduce a little bit of sweetness between weeks six and eight.

I feel overloaded by intelligence. First, what am I actually giving up? When I talk about discontinuing carbohydrate, Im talking about discontinuing fructose, Wilson tells me. Fructose is the adversary. Its added sugar hidden in processed foods such as fruit juice, ketchup and eat. Its addictive, obliges us dine more and accumulates itself in the liver, forming it harder to break down than flab.

To put this into situation, full-fat yoghurt naturally contains around a teaspoon of carbohydrate( 4g ), whereas fat-free fruit yoghurt contains around six teaspoons. Our figures are designed to metabolise the fructose equivalent of two tiny portions of return a daytime. A small bottle of apple juice contains nine teaspoons.

I approach week one flavor motivated( cleaning out every last raisin from the kitchen ), until the prospect of cooking a batch of curried parsnip fritters followed by apple bircher muffins( and thats only on the first Sunday) pushes me over the edge. I burn off a panicky email to the I Quit Sugar place to explain this isnt for me.

Theyre clearly allows one to sugar-free slackers; I get a friendly email reminding me that everything I truly need to remember is the slogan Jerf: Precisely Eat Real Food. You is fully penalty if you gobble an abundance of fresh develop, fleshes, dairy and fattens. If it comes in a packet, try and escape it. If you cant, opt for the ones with the least number of ingredients, and always less than 5g of carbohydrate per 100 g. The complicated-looking meal schedules are actually flexible, they say, and I am directed to helpful guides on the website( from an eating-out cheater expanse to a sandwich-making template ).

Replacing sugar with fatty is easier than it resounds. My new breakfast is eggs and avocado, or buttery mushrooms on sourdough, while for dinner its bangers and mash or roasted chicken. I dont is very hard to supplant dessert with a cheeseboard, and a glass of red wine with dinner five times a week is helped, because it helps digestion. But is it any healthier?

Week four is when most people know-how a crash, and excavation is monumental. I get very drunk on Jgerbombs( 25 g sugar per drink) at my hen do and nurse my hangover with pizza( 7g sugar in merely a single slice ). I have headaches and psychological outbursts for epoches. But by week six, I seem as if Ive come through the other side; Ive not only stopped having thirsts, I have a savoury palate.

Im just a sign girl for the programme of activities Ive actually gained weight but this wasnt about dieting. Eight weeks on, Im in control of my cravings, I have more force, and I cant even stomach a piece of fruit, let alone a bowl of Coco Pops. Alcohol is another story, but theres ever 2018 to tackle that monster.

The I Discontinue Sugar programme extends every eight weeks, and costs from 89; going to see iquitsugar.com for details.

Start here

Swap juice for a piece of entire fruit

Ditch processed foods and check descriptions: avoid anything with more than 5g carbohydrate per 100 g

Switch to full fatty foods

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