#SORRY THIS IS ALL LIKE. A LITTLE VAGUE BUT. ITS A LOT TO ANSWER AT ONCE HJBGDFBHGJ

[bonestrouslingbones]

no shade but i reblogged a post once that said something like "hey misgendering these characters is crappy" and someone legit reblogged it from me and tagged "agreed but underverse gets a pass". like. no. no it actually does not. you are who this post is talking about???

i enjoyed underverse (i think it did kinda massively change the shape of the utmv side of the fandom) but cmon everyone we're just gonna let this slide forever? for real? maybe a little shade

FULL shade like it is literally so useless to rb those kinds of posts just to Look like you're nice and unproblematic or some shit but when you then say "not underverse tho!!" you immediately show just how disingenuous everything outta your mouth actually is. people always wanna talk but they never want to have to actually commit to the shit coming outta their mouths its literally the most annoying part about it all

[officialgleamstar]

Please tell me more about Mercedes’ experience learning about Henry’s past 🙏 also Henry’s response to learning the truth of himself secondhand from his loved ones - when does he find out? Does Mercedes phone him right away, or does she wait to tell him when they’re reunited?

you really weren't kidding when you told me you were saving things i brought up on discord so you could ask me about them on tumblr, huh HGKFHGJKFD

THIS IS A PART OF THE AU THAT I . STRUGGLE WITH lol as ive told you. i know that mercedes reacts very poorly to henry's family, she struggles with it a lot (as i said, a sentiment that stays with me - she always thought the twins took after her until she saw everyone in oakvale). however, i have some trouble pinning down like... mercedes' exact reaction? the thing with mercedes is like. she is a very open-minded character, she takes things in stride, and she doesn't like the idea of making people feel judged. at the same time, she's very emotional and while i wouldn't call her hot-headed by any means, i do think that oakvale would severely piss her off and she would not be shy about it LOL. she would want very badly to be cool and normal about oakvale - this is her husbands family, after all! - but it also flies in the face of everything that she and henry stand for.

and of course, i think ive mentioned this part on tumblr but if not - mercedes does fear, in a way, that the twins fit in more in oakvale than they do with her. sparrow especially. its selfish and she hates that part of her, but she resents the idea that her babies might be happier in this fantastical land that suits their childhood adventures and their burgeoning magic and their whimsical spirit, and that shes going to be left out of it. and alongside that, i know ive said this before, mercedes's generational trauma struggles in this au are a lot less hers and a lot more trying to figure out how to support her family through theirs. oakvale as a whole is a big symbol for the difficulty that comes from trying to support your partner against a world you cant even begin to imagine

for henry's response... oof. i think mercedes wouldn't tell him right away, and she would write it off to herself as wanting to tell him in person, but it would stem a lot more from fear and anxiety. shes already afraid of losing her twins to oakvale. she doesnt want to awaken all these memories in her husband and risk him going back too. so she would wait until after the odyssey was over to tell him. honestly, i think she would tell him right after the battle since like, autumn IS THERE. HIS MOM IS RIGHT THERE GFDBGJBDF as for his response... hard to say. i think he would freak the fuck out, just like in canon, but it would be more muted because hes more overwhelmed at having his family back in his arms and also fighting monsters and a dragon and some random dads-?! he would have just. a lot to work through, unpacking everything that mercedes and autumn tells him after the adventure is over. and after he gets stabbed and an eldritch god is summoned through his blood lol

[deakyjoe]

Absolution

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader (afab, fem)

Category: smut, sex pollen

Summary: Obi-Wan really should have let his curiosity go and avoided that flower.

Warnings: 18+, smut (!!), sex pollen, slight dubcon (because of sex pollen but all consensual), unprotected p in v sex, master kink, slight sub!obi-wan, slight dom!reader, reader talks obi-wan through it basically, suggestions of inappropriate use of a lightsaber, virgin!obi-wan, religious guilt, hints of reader’s past feelings, reader kind of ignores some Jedi rules, kissing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, a lot of talks of fluids I feel, slight angst I guess, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Happy May the Fourth! Happy Star Wars Day! Wrote an Obi-Wan fic last year so thought I’d keep up the tradition this year as well. It’s not the best thing I’ve ever written, certainly not the best smut, but I did end up rushing it a little to get it posted today so… sorry! This is for @lightwxlker who I told about this over lunch at uni <3 (feel free to read but please never look me in the eye again if you do). Can’t wait to see you later to see The Phantom Menace!!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Absolution:

(Noun)

Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment.

Declaration that a person’s sins have been forgiven.

It felt like you'd been trekking through the dense forest for days. Really, it had only been a few hours. But with no end in sight, and Obi-Wan's continuous promise of almost there, you were convinced that the two of you had been lost for about a week.

The Jedi had told you that you were in search of a hidden community that had answers to some questions that the Council had about... something. You didn't know. You rarely paid attention when Obi-Wan explained these things. As much as you respected him, these briefings started to sound the same after a while. It was the thing he reprimanded you for most often.

"Can we-" You wheezed. "Can we stop for just a minute?"

"Soon." He called over his shoulder simply, pushing aside a leafy branch for the both of you to pass through.

You considered pushing him over, tripping him up maybe, and even just stabbing him with your lightsaber. Just to have a break for a moment. It was unclear how he managed to walk through dense forest for hours on end without even a hint of fatigue peeking through. You envied him for it.

Luckily, your prayers were answered when a clearing appeared. It was small, sheltered by the canopy of trees above you, but it was a good place to stop. You didn't even have to say the word, Obi-Wan already knew what you wanted.

"Fine, rest here for a moment." He sighed, pointing at a rock.

You collapsed quickly, thankful for the brief reprieve, and watched as the Jedi made a slow circle around the clearing. He was inspecting every little thing there was to see. If there was one thing you had in common with the man, it was your curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

"Rather fascinating." He mumbled to himself, ignoring the burning of your stare on his back as he moved, poking at a fungus of some kind with the tip of his finger.

"Be careful. It might be poisonous." You warned, stretching out your legs in front of you.

"I know my living organisms." He replied steadily, pulling up and moving on to the next one.

It was a flower. Rather large, with pinkish petals and an indigo centre extending on from a bright green stem. It looked vaguely familiar to you. You racked your brain, thinking about the botany books you'd spent your spare time reading when Obi-Wan had insisted that you should know more about the planets you were constantly visiting.

Nothing was coming to you. Maybe you hadn't seen it in one of those books. Your head tilted as you watched the Jedi stroke gently at the petals with the backs of his fingers, mumbling about how it felt soft, and something came back to you when the flower seemed to move of its own accord.

"Get back." You shot up from the rock you were previously sitting on and took a quick step towards him.

"It's fine." He insisted, not looking at you - too entranced by the flower as he continued to caress the petals. He didn't know this one. He found it intriguing.

You remembered where you'd seen the flower before. A book hidden deep in the archives, where you ventured when you knew no one was looking, part of a collection of things that the Jedi were not supposed to have interest in.

Your pace picked up as the flower curled in on itself, the fleeting look of disappoint clear on Obi-Wan's face, reaching for his shoulder to wrench him back.

"No! Obi-Wan, stop!"

But it was too late.

As you made contact with his robes to pull him away, the flower blossomed open. A bright cloud of purple pollen burst out and coated the two of you, settling itself over your skin and infiltrating your lungs, and therefore your blood stream, as you breathed it in.

You coughed, scrubbing at yourself to try and get it off. But you knew you were past that.

The Jedi turned to you, surprised to see the panic in your eyes. "It's just flower pollen, nothing a little water won't wash away."

Your voice was shaky as you spoke. "What have you done?"

He frowned and glanced back at the plant. It wasn't one he recognised, granted, but he also hadn't been warned of anything dangerous in this area. So he really wasn't concerned. "I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"It's a flos venerem." You whispered. "We need to find shelter."

As you turned around in a slow circle, trying to decide which way you were more likely to find somewhere to figure everything out, Obi-Wan watched you with a curious gaze.

"And what is a flos venerem?"

You scoffed over your shoulder at him. "Do you ever read?"

You knew it was an unfair question considering the place you'd read about the flower wasn't one he, or any other Jedi, frequented but you were angry and frightened. Angry at him for not listening to your warnings. And frightened for yourself since you knew what the flower was going to do to you.

He looked on as you closed your eyes, feeling out with the Force. "Now is not the time to insult me. Tell me."

You whirled on him. "It's an aphrodisiac. A powerful one. And if we don't find shelter soon then you're going to be doing some strange things to these trees."

Obi-Wan frowned, puzzled by what you were saying. "Is there a cure?"

You laughed humourlessly, turning away from him again. "Is there a cure? Is there a cure, he asks. Ha!"

"An antidote?"

"No, there's no antidote." You hissed.

The effects of the pollen were already weighing on you. You imagined Obi-Wan was also feeling something as well, just unaware of it. At least you knew what you were supposed to be feeling. The Jedi Knight had no idea.

Your mouth felt dry, like sand on your tongue, and your skin was hot to the touch. A dull headache was forming at the base of your skull too and you knew these sensations would only get worse if you didn't do what the flower wanted you to. There really was only one way to fix it. But you couldn't find it in yourself to tell your companion the solution. You were ignoring the heavy feeling in the base of your abdomen.

Sensing your apprehension wasn't overstated, Obi-Wan pointed back in the direction you'd come from. "There was a cave a little while ago. We can go there and you can tell me more about this... aphrodisiac flower."

You only nodded, lacking the strength to tell him that you wouldn't be able to listen to his voice out of fear of what bodily responses that would cause in you. Your existing attraction to Obi-Wan would only be increased by the influence of the plant. And you were scared what you'd do, or what you'd suggest, to ease the feelings.

You started marching in the direction the two of you had come from, jumping away from Obi-Wan as he fell into step beside you and his shoulder brushed yours.

"Keep- keep your distance for a while." You muttered, pushing away the lick of heat that had shot through you at his proximity.

He frowned back at you, feeling bad for making you so clearly uncomfortable. "My apologies."

"It's okay. I'm just-" You cut yourself off with a groan.

Obi-Wan's stomach lurched at the sound. "You're just what?"

"The flower is making it difficult to be next to you." You turned your head away from him, desperately trying to breathe in the clean forest air and nothing else. But all you could smell was him. The scent was so strong that you could practically taste him, his skin, and it was making your mouth water.

"You're already feeling the effects of the flower?" He hummed, pondering. "I feel nothing so far."

It wasn't true. But he was completely unaware of what he was feeling. He put the dry mouth and headache down to minor exhaustion, the hike through the forest finally catching up with him. And the stirring he was feeling... down below was foreign. The Jedi secretly believed that maybe he was immune to the flower's influence.

He was severely wrong.

You glanced back at him, instantly looking away when you caught his wide-eyed gaze. His eyes were so blue, so familiar.

You marched ahead of him, ignoring his quiet protests as you urgently sought out the cave. It came into sights quickly and your pace picked up, practically running towards it now. When you reached it, you discarded your top layer of robes, the heat your body was producing making it feel as if you were melting, and left your lightsaber by the entrance to the stone shelter. You feared what you may do with it when the flower's effects got even worse.

Obi-Wan followed closely behind you and watched with curious attention at your actions, slightly puzzled when you made your way towards the back of the cave and sat down facing the wall.

"Sit over there." You pointed over your shoulder to a spot far away from yourself. "I need to think."

"Trying to remember an antidote?" He asked, wondering what there possibly was to think about right now. And without his help as well.

"Sure." You sighed, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath. You weren't thinking about an antidote since you knew there wasn't one. You were considering your options. Even though you knew they were limited. Very limited.

He trusted your word however, which was mildly foolish of him, and took a seat where you'd instructed him to do so. He kept his gaze on you, fixated on the back of your head, as he observed your breathing pick up and then slow back down several times of the course of a few minutes.

What Obi-Wan failed to notice was how his breathing was in tune with yours, increasing when yours did and lowering when yours did.

It didn't escape him though when the flower's influence started to manipulate his body even more. The dry mouth, dull headache, rapid heartbeat, and hardened dick were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. And Obi-Wan couldn't stay in denial for much longer.

So he called out your name.

Big mistake.

You jumped at the sound, having to bite your tongue to prevent noise slipping from your lips, and glanced at him over your shoulder."Yes?"

"I believe the flower is finally setting in." He decided that was the best way to put it and not that the sight of you was making him think things he hadn't even considered since he was a lot younger.

You looked at him silently for a second too long, eyes flicking downwards before moving back up to meet his again. "Meaning?"

His brows creased for a moment. "You know."

You did. So you turned back towards the wall and stared at it. "I'm thinking really hard about it, okay? I'll work something out."

Lies.

Time progressed slowly, moving at a sluggish pace that had you wanting to claw your way out of the cave in temporary insanity, and you could hear Obi-Wan's condition growing steadily worse by the minute.

You were finding it a lot easier than him to control yourself, probably due to your more extensive knowledge on the subject of simple carnal pleasure. But Obi-Wan was losing it.

You kept your eyes focused on the stone in front of you, desperately trying to ignore the sounds that Obi-Wan was making behind you. The breathless whimpers that were leaving his mouth were heavenly to your ears, creating a pulse that shook through your body regularly. Despite the sounds making you feel good, it was getting harder and harder to stop yourself from giving in and crawling over to him. Especially since you could hear him tearing off at least one layer of his clothing.

"Obi-Wan, please be quiet." You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

To the Jedi your voice sounded husky, tempting almost. "I cannot help it. Please help me."

His voice was desperate, almost whiny, as he begged you for some sort of assistance. If only he knew what that assistance was.

You squeezed your eyes closed, resting your face in your hands. "I'm trying."

It was a lie. You knew that nothing could be done. The passage from the book you'd read about the flower had been very clear. Death was inevitable. Unless you engaged with someone... intimately.

It was the only method that would get your bodily reactions to calm down. If not, the next few days would be painful for the both of you. You'd be extremely aroused the whole time, heart racing at a million beats per minute, sweat would pour out of you and cause severe dehydration that would be impossible to remedy, and finally your body would give up from the sheer exhaustion of trying to handle it all. Then, you'd drop dead.

Just how exactly were you supposed to voice that to Obi-Wan, the man who'd boasted about his ability to follow the Order's rules for years, that the only way for the both of you to survive this was to sleep together? And how were you supposed to recover from possibly finally having the man you'd wanted for so long for just one night and then never again?

"I can sense that you're keeping something from me."

Your head snapped up at his statement. He was correct, sure, but you hadn't expected him to pick up on it in his state.

So you turned around to look at him, legs crossed in front of you and back against the wall to keep yourself as far from him as possible.

"There is one solution that I know of." You confessed, still thinking of a way to tell him.

"Just tell me. I know it's troubling you. It's okay." Obi-Wan's tone was soft and comforting.

You took a deep breath in. "You won't like it."

"Do we have a choice?"

You let the breath out again. "Death."

He released a tired and humourless chuckle. "I can assure you that I'll prefer whatever solution you have to death. So tell me."

You debated what words would spook the Jedi less. Were you clinical and informative? Or soft and subtle? The sweat dripping from his temple, begging to be licked away by the tip of your tongue, was telling you to be harsh and raw with him.

Your gaze fixed on his mouth. "We have to have sex, Obi-Wan. Multiple times probably." The last part was added on for emphasis, meant to draw a reaction out of him.

He gave it to you. His already flushed cheeks reddened some more, eyes darting away from yours momentarily. It's not that the antidote was unexpected, he figured that it would lead somewhere like this considering the two of you had been contaminated by an aphrodisiac, but he thought maybe that there would be another solution. Or that you'd at least beat around the bush a little more.

Obi-Wan didn't know how to tell you that he'd never done something like that before so wouldn't even know where to start.

Little did he know that you were already well aware of that fact.

"I'll guide you through it." You paused. "But once we get started I don't think you'll need much guidance. The effects of the pollen will probably lead you."

His eyes snapped back to you, a frown pinching between them. "And what do you know of it?"

"Obi-Wan..." You mumbled, tilting your head down slightly to give him a meaningful look.

He didn't look thrilled at the notion.

You scoffed, annoyance bubbling at his obvious judgement. "We all have a past."

He knew what you meant. Sure, everyone had a past. He just didn't realise you had that sort of past. Still, he realised he had no place to pass judgement against you.

Heat pulsed between your thighs at the sudden wide-eyed apologetic look he was giving you. A groan rumbled in your chest and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"I see that this is hard for you." He whispered and you attempted to hold back a laugh thinking that this probably wasn't the only thing that was hard. "So, how about you come over here and... show me what we have to do."

You looked back at him, surprised by the boldness he was showing. Yes, he wasn't a shy man by any means but you thought he'd have been a bit less confident in this situation. Or maybe the whole thing would just be so meaningless to him that he thought it'd be easy.

Obi-Wan could feel random muscles in his body clenching as you stared at him. He'd never felt like this before. He'd always known that you were beautiful, it was impossible to ignore, but he'd never thought much else of it. But now? He couldn't do anything else apart from think about it.

You slowly pushed yourself up from your seated position and fell onto your hands and knees, too tense to stand up, and made your way towards him steadily. He was surprised to find himself practically buzzing at the sight of you crawling towards him, a ravenous look on your face. You stopped about a foot in front of him, looking up into his eyes through your eyelashes.

A hand reached out for you.

You took it.

With his help, you settled yourself over Obi-Wan's lap, a leg either side of his thighs so you straddled him. You didn't let your weight rest on him just yet, wanting to check in quickly to make sure he was okay. It was taking everything in your power not to start touching him all over despite your overactive brain basically screaming at you to do so.

His eyes moved rapidly, taking you in as he searched across your body. A hand landed on either of your hips, encouraging you to move closer to him. So you did, chest pushing slightly against his and weight pressing into his lap as you sat down. The both of you let out a sigh at the contact, pain eased for just a few moments.

It was then that you noticed you'd sat on something extremely hard.

"Is that a lightsaber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" You chuckled, about to reach down to remove the weapon from the inside of his robes.

But Obi-Wan's eyes flickered over your shoulder to somewhere behind you. Slowly, you turned to see what he was looking out, a small pinch between your eyebrows, and saw where you'd discarded your own lightsaber earlier. What you were surprised to find was his lightsaber resting up against a rock beside yours.

"Oh." You croaked and looked back at him, eyes shooting to his crotch for a brief moment. "You are just happy to see me."

"The flower." He grumbled lowly.

Your heart fell momentarily, your face along with it, before you recovered and looked downwards towards his chest. "Right, of course."

Realising he'd made a fatal mistake, Obi-Wan placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to make eye contact again. "A combined effect of the flower and... you."

Your mouth dropped open for a second, dazed by his statement, before a smile blossomed along your face. "There was one thing I forgot to mention."

"And what was that?" His eyes were fixed on your mouth now.

"The flower's effects are stronger and fast acting if you are already attracted to the person you're with at the time of exposure." You leaned towards him closer, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. "I expected to feel the influence at least an hour or two before you did, Master."

A soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a whine, escaped his lips at the use of the title. It surprised you, you hadn't thought he'd be into that kind of thing. You didn't give him a chance to give you a real response though, the noise he'd just made finally pushing you over the edge.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, thumbs swiping over his cheeks to wipe the purple pollen away. He let out another sound at that, this one more shocked, but equally as unrestrained. Your mouth opened just in time to catch it and swallow it against your own moan at finally feeling his lips melding with yours.

Usually, in the past, you’d have some sense of patience in this situation. But it’s like the feeling of his skin under your palms and his lips against yours, your tongue in his mouth, sent the pollen vibrating in your bloodstream. And before you knew it, your hands were tearing at his clothes, absolutely desperate to get them off.

And while Obi-Wan was a little more hesitant than you, inexperience slowing him down, once he felt how eager you were he could only join in on the action. His hands were soft, almost silky, like they hadn’t ever seen a day of hard labour in his life, and they sent warm bursts of electricity through you as they slid against your skin.

All barriers between you were removed in less than a minute, although time seemed to be flying now that you’d actually gotten beyond just staring at each other and ignoring all feelings your body had been screaming at you to address.

“Do you know what comes next, Master?” You questioned, wondering how out of practice he really was.

Obi-Wan seemed to pause, taking a long thought, before saying anything. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I know.” You said and he seemed both embarrassed and surprised. “That’s not what I was asking. Do you know what happens?”

“I’ve heard things.” He admitted slowly.

Up until this point you’d been trying to avoid looking down at his naked body. Sure, the two of you had been pretty enthusiastic in taking the other’s clothes off but neither of you had verbally stated what you were comfortable with actually doing. That didn’t mean you couldn’t feel every inch of him pressing against you though. Somehow in the tumble of robe removal, you’d slid forward on his lap which had caused your torsos to connect. And you hadn’t bothered to move back again.

You searched his face for any sign of discomfort, finding none. “Can I touch you?”

He sputtered. “You already are.”

“No-“ You took a deep breath. “Can I touch you… down there?”

You were hesitant to say certain words to him, cringing at just the thought of them coming out of your mouth and entering his ears. You shouldn’t be shy about this, having done this countless times before. But now you were doing it with Obi-Wan, someone you admired with the deepest affection, it felt different. A good different but different nonetheless.

“Oh.” The flush he’d been sporting across his face stretched to meet the tip of his ears and you reached up to tuck some hair back away from them. “Yes, you can.”

You could see that the lust the flower caused had taken over all rational thought as his irises, usually so blue and bright, had been consumed by his pupils dilating. Was this a good idea, you silently wondered? Did he truly want this? Or was the flos venerem speaking for him?

Before you had the chance to ponder over that even more, the animal instincts in your brain took over and your hand was wrapping around his, pretty sizeable, cock.

He hissed at the sensation of your warm palm touching him and you observed his reaction with hungry curiosity. You liked the way his eyes fluttered closed and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, the way his head snapped back against the cave wall and he didn’t even seem to notice that it should’ve hurt. He was too absorbed in the pleasurable way that you were touching him.

You were touching him.

Obi-Wan felt as if he were flying amongst the stars.

Your hand slid up and down his length, taking in every minor reaction he gave you to see what he liked. The answer was: he liked all of it. No matter the pace of your strokes, the pressure of your squeeze, or the angle of the twist, Obi-Wan revelled in it all.

Every sound he made caused what felt like a flood to pour from between your thighs, skin prickling with flames of desire. You increased the speed of the pumps against his shaft, feeling him twitch in your hand. Obi-Wan started babbling to himself, something you couldn’t quite understand but realised were certainly happy mumblings. It didn’t take much more until he was orgasming, cum spurting out of him in hot ropes and coating both of your stomachs.

You weren’t surprised to see that he remained hard. At least the botany books hadn’t lied to you about the multiple times thing.

“Need you inside me now, Obi-Wan.” You whispered, pleased when his eyes seemed to spark with something akin to excitement. Pushing yourself up slightly, you took him in your hand again and aligned him with your entrance. Notching him against you, you inched down onto him slowly, feeling your hips stutter willing you to go faster, and watched his face scrunch up in pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” You asked despite knowing the answer. You just wanted to hear him say something, even a noise of approval would work for you.

He nodded rapidly and whined. “Yes, yes.”

Pleasure rocketed up your spine, walls clenching around him and he whimpered again. His hips bucked up underneath you and your eyes rolled back in your head.

He did it again.

You came.

A shocked laugh escaped your throat as the orgasm rippled through. You hadn’t realised it would be that easy but given that you’d denied yourself any friction and stimulation for way too long considering the situation you were in, it only made sense.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “Did you just-?”

“Yes.” You sighed and rocked your hips against his, thighs still trembling with the aftershock.

“Stars-“ He gasped, head falling forward to bury his face in your neck. You smiled at the feeling of his beard scratching against your skin and moved faster.

Time became a haze, multiple orgasms rolled into a blur, and before you know it you felt like you couldn’t move anymore. Your legs ached, your body dripped with sweat and your breathing was shaky and uneven.

But you were determined for one more.

Obi-Wan gasped about it being too much but couldn’t stop himself from continuing to thrust up underneath you. Which you were thankful for considering you could feel your thighs cramping up and barely managing to support your weight. His arms locked around you, trapping you against him, as he pounded into you urgently like he was chasing something. He was really. And you could understand.

“Come on, Master, just one more.” You murmured against his temple.

It took only those words of encouragement for Obi-Wan to spill inside you once again, the feeling of that setting you off as well. And finally the two of you relaxed, the pollen’s effects wearing away.

The two of you sat against each other breathless for a moment before you eased up off of him and settled beside him. He immediately collapsed against you, sliding down until his head met your lap. You placed a hand in his hair as his breathing slowed down to a normal pace.

Now that the high had passed, guilt was setting in.

“What have I done?” Obi-Wan croaked, burying his face against your thighs.

You froze, knowing you should be feeling this same shame but not finding it in yourself to care. At least not right now. “It’s okay.”

“No!” He almost wailed. “I broke- I broke rules. Sacred Jedi code.”

“You had no choice. It was either that or death.” Tears stung at the backs of your eyeballs, willing yourself not to crack and break down. He needed you to be strong. “There was no other way.”

He knew you were right, a small seed of relief buried deep in his chest. He didn’t have another choice. But then there was another matter…

You continued to try to make him feel better. "The council will forgive you, Obi-Wan. It couldn't have been helped."

The Jedi could only nod in reply. That wasn't what worried him anymore, your logical argument had been enough to reassure him of that. What did worry him is how much he wanted it to happen again.

He glanced up at you. "What about you? Can you forgive me?"

You paused, hand stilling against the side of his head. "There's nothing to be forgiven."

"Please." He whispered against your skin. "Please just-"

It hurt you to hear the break in his voice. A man, usually so confident, reduced to this. All because of something out of his control.

You took a deep breath, stared straight ahead at the cave wall opposite you, tears in your eyes and a hand combing through his hair. "I forgive you, Obi-Wan."

A/N: I listened to Star Wars ambience on YouTube as I wrote most of this. Hope you enjoyed!

[cookiescribble]

Flufftober Day 15: "What are you wearing? "It's laundry day!"

A/N: Cue “Without Me” by Eminem cause GUESS WHO’S BACK!!! Not only me, but the guy! I’ve been thinking about him specifically for a lot of these lol i’m down bad. also i feel like i should once again stress that this isn't based on titans, i just like brenton thwaites. enjoy!

Ship: Dick Grayson x GN!Reader

Summary: All of Dick’s clothes were disgusting and in need of a wash, so he chose quite the interesting outfit

You came home from work and looked around what you could see of the apartment to see if you could spot your boyfriend before you started calling his name. 

“Dick? Are you here??” You asked loudly, simultaneously announcing yourself and hopefully allowing yourself to be heard from wherever he might be. 

When he didn’t answer back, you thought about where he possibly was before turning back out of the front door. You vaguely remembered him saying something about doing some chores today while you were at work, and based on some basic deduction from that, you thought he might be down in the laundry room. 

When you got down there, Dick was bent over the washing machine, clad in old pajama pants and…something that looked vaguely familiar from what you could see. It was hard to tell, since most of his upper half was currently inside the machine itself. 

“What’re you wearing?” You asked, holding back giggles as you noticed his attire. The pajama pants he was wearing had quite a few holes in the red plaid material and you held back on commenting on it. For now. 

“It’s laundry day!” Dick yelled as he stood up, revealing to you that he also took the liberty of borrowing one of your shirts. It just barely fit him, sticking to his muscles and only covering him halfway down his stomach. It looked more like a crop top than anything else, which isn’t what it was when you wore it at all. 

“Laundry day means steal clothes from your partner and wear threads of fabric that can barely be called pants?” You teased, stepping closer to him and gently tugged at the waistband of the pajama pants he was wearing, “If you wanted to borrow something from me, you could’ve just asked. I could’ve told you what might actually fit.” 

“This does fit!” He argued, gesturing to the shirt that clung to him for dear life.

“This shirt is begging for mercy. I think I should put it out of its misery” You laughed, pulling it up over his head and off of him, “Plus, I think I like this view better.” You blushed lightly now that he was standing there shirtless. 

“Oh, really? If you wanted to strip me, all you had to do was ask.” He teased you, repeating your words from moments earlier. 

“Hilarious, but I’m not going to do that in the laundry room where anyone could walk in and see you. I’ll wait till you’re done washing your stinky clothes.” You rolled your eyes at him, leaning up and giving him a quick kiss on his cheek, “I’ll meet you upstairs?” 

“With an offer like that? How could I refuse?” Dick sounded sarcastic but, with him, a lot of things usually did. “You could stay down here with me if you want, though. Tell me about your day.” He suggested as he turned back toward the washing machine.

“…What? I’m sorry.” You chuckled as you realized you’d been staring at his chest and not listening to a single word he’d been saying. “I-I didn’t hear what you said.” 

“I said that you could stay and tell me about the day you’ve had, but I don’t think you’re gonna be doing much talking if I keep you down here. You’re a little…distracted,” You couldn’t see his face as he spoke, but he sounded incredibly smug. You could practically hear the smirk on his face. “So I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” 

You nodded before you realized he couldn’t see you and spoke aloud, “Right, okay. I’ll see you upstairs.” You mumbled with a dark red glow to your cheeks, turning out of the laundry room clutching your reacquired shirt and a promise. 

[jetii]

i loveeeeeee ur writing. its like a masterpiece. mwah. i was wondering if you could do an angsty fic with the prompt "I loved you!" with any clone boy you want (maybe crosshair 👀) I was listening to Cardigan by taylor swift and it lowkey set the mood.

sorry if the request is very vague cause i never watched bad batch yet im a huge simp 🥲 so do whatever you want.

I know you got like a tonnnn on your plate and i lowkey feel bad requesting but you write really good so take ur time to take care of yourself.

hiiiii anon. if you are who i think you are, then you'll have already been watching TBB by now, but if you're not, what are you doing!! /affectionate

after listening to the song (i have a sister who is a swiftie but alas i am not) and thinking harder about your prompt, i was inspired to write this for Echo, so i hope that's okay!

The Way Back

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Words: 9,621

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, dramatic reunion, reader is a lawyer, Tech is a good brother, Echo needs a hug, allusion to panic attacks/alcoholism/depression

Summary: Echo always knew you were it for him, but the idea of seeing you again after so much has changed is more than he can take. Until one day he finds himself outside of your apartment, and the choice is made for him.

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Echo doesn’t leave the ship when it docks on Coruscant.

His eyes are locked on the city-planet, lit up like a giant firefly, watching the endless stream of ships coming in and out. Their trails of light make the whole thing seem dreamlike, surreal. Even that feels like too much, reminds him too much of the view from your apartment, and he tries to close his eyes, but his eyelids are made of glass.

The first time he saw Coruscant, there had been a moment of... what, awe? Terror? Something. Something big, anyway. He didn't understand then that you can have a feeling be a lot of things. He'd looked down on the galaxy's center of power and felt something bigger than he could possibly contain. Now, sitting alone on the Marauder with only the whirr of the vents for company, he thinks maybe the feeling was dread.

The first time they came back here after Echo joined the Batch, the others didn’t notice his unease. Or at least they didn't mention it. It was an adjustment period for everyone, Echo most of all, and his brothers gave him space to do things on his own terms, even when it meant he did nothing at all.

This time, it's different. He can tell they've noticed how he's been acting, and they're not just leaving him alone anymore. He can tell, because they're giving him looks. The kind of looks that ask questions he doesn't have answers for. They make excuses to stick close by, like they're afraid he might take off or that he's going to break down and have another panic attack. It makes him want to hide even more.

He's not going to, though. It's not so bad. Coruscant has always been a source of good memories for Echo, despite what happened. The sights, the sounds, the tastes — they're all still the same. He'd spent a long time on Coruscant before the Citadel happened, and he'd gotten used to it, the way the air smells, the feel of the rain against his skin. He had a whole life here. He was happy.

It's not so bad. He just... doesn't feel like going out, is all.

He knows he’s being stupid. He knows that he should be out there, enjoying what little downtime they’re afforded. Instead, he's on the ship, trying not to stare out the windows, trying to pretend that he isn't bothered by the thought of leaving, of the possibility of running into you again, however small that may be.

The worst part is that he's not sure why.

It's not that he doesn't want to see you. On the contrary, he does. More than anything. He hasn't stopped thinking about you, wondering if you're okay, if you’re happy, if you've thought of him. He's kept his ears open, and has managed to overhear a few stories here and there about you. The most recent had been about you winning a case for a group of Houk refugees who had been seeking asylum in the city, a big deal for a young lawyer to handle.

It had made him smile, a real, genuine smile, the kind he rarely got to have.

But there's something about seeing you again, about you seeing him that makes him hesitate, makes his stomach turn over and his throat tighten. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to know for certain, doesn't want to see that you're happy, that you've moved on, that you're doing well without him.

Maybe it's because he doesn't trust himself. He's different now, he knows that. He's different, and so are you. He doesn't know if he can face you, doesn't know if he'll be able to handle whatever is waiting for him. 

When he woke up in Rex’s arms and realized the galaxy had kept moving without him, he hadn’t thought much of it, solely focused on survival, on the fact that he was alive at all. He hadn't cared about what he'd missed, who he'd left behind. He hadn't known how much time had passed, and the thought that he was a dead man hadn't even crossed his mind. He hadn't thought about you, hadn't given himself the time or space to consider the consequences. You'd been the furthest thing from his mind. He'd had to keep fighting, to keep living. But once he had the time to think about it, to regret, well, it was...

It's different.

There's no other word for it. Everything is different.

Echo has had time, too much time, to think about you, to regret losing you. It's kept him up late into the night cycle, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, thoughts running a mile a minute.

You'd been a good person, a better one than he could ever hope to be, and he had loved you, and then he had died.

Or, he had thought he'd died. Turns out he hadn't. That had been the only mercy.

You'd been the first and only person in his entire life to see him as something other than a soldier, and he'd loved you for it. You'd seen him, really seen him, and you hadn't run. He had been terrified by that, but it had also been the best feeling in the world. And he had taken advantage of it. He had let you in, he had let himself fall in love, and then he had died.

It's different, now. He's different. The galaxy's moved on, and he's a ghost, and he's scared. He doesn't know how to face you, doesn't know if he can. So when they’d made it out of Skako Minor and Rex had asked if he wanted to comm you, he’d said no. And he's been saying no every time since.

A small voice inside his head, one that sounds a lot like Fives, tells him that's bullshit.

His brother would have called him out on his cowardice, and Echo thinks that's a fair assessment. But even though he misses you and wants nothing more than to hear your voice, it's better this way. It's better if you don't see him like this, if you never find out the truth. The thought of you seeing him, of you seeing what's left of the man you knew, is too much. He can't do that to you.

It's better if you never see him again. It's better if you have closure, if you've moved on and don't think about him anymore.

You deserve more. You deserve someone who hasn't lost as much as he has, someone who you won't have to worry about, someone who will be there for you.

Someone who can give you the life you want.

Echo knows he can't do that. And maybe if he says that enough times, he'll finally believe it.

“Why are you still here?”

The sound of Tech’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns and finds his brother watching him from the doorway, an expression of vague curiosity on his face, a soldering iron twirling absently in his hand.

Echo shrugs.

Tech gives a short, impatient huff.

"That is not an answer," he says, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at Echo.

"I was just..." He trails off. Just what? Just looking out the window and moping? He sighs. "Nevermind."

Tech steps into the cockpit, looking unconvinced. Echo can tell he has a question on the tip of his tongue, can see him considering his options. Tech is not the most tactful person in the galaxy, and Echo isn't really in the mood to hear his thoughts, not when they're bound to be blunt. But instead of asking, his brother simply takes his seat beside him and begins tinkering with the dashboard, checking the systems.

The two of them are quiet for a moment, the only sound the clinking of the tools. Then Tech pauses and looks at Echo. 

Echo fidgets under his brother's gaze. "What?"

Tech doesn't respond right away, taking a second to look Echo over. His eyes flicker around the cockpit, as if the gauges and switchboards will give him some kind of clue, before coming back to his brother.

"There is nothing wrong with the ship," he says.

"Okay," Echo says, confused. "So?"

"So," Tech continues, "there is no reason for you to be here. We are scheduled to remain docked until 600 hours, and you have the day off. You could be anywhere."

Echo rolls his eyes, a prickle of annoyance flaring in his chest. "Yeah, well, I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Tech agrees. There's a moment where he considers something, and then he speaks again, "If I may offer a suggestion?"

"Go for it," Echo grumbles, not bothering to look at him.

"Go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yes. Physical activity is proven to improve mood and mental health. And you could do with the fresh air."

Echo frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Tech says, not even pausing in his work, "that you've been spending an inordinate amount of time locked away in here."

"I'm not locked away," Echo protests.

"No, I suppose not. But you have not been yourself since we arrived."

Echo doesn't have an answer for that.

"Go for a walk," Tech repeats, and this time he does stop and turn to Echo. He leans back in his chair and removes his goggles, letting them rest on his forehead, and the intensity in his gaze makes Echo squirm a bit.

"Where?"

Tech gestures towards the open space in front of them, the sprawling metropolis. "There are a number of options available, I'm sure. There are parks, shopping districts, museums, restaurants..." He ticks the ideas off on his fingers one by one, and then points back to Echo. "Perhaps you should find out for yourself."

Echo snorts. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he says, the words coming out more defensively than he intended. "I'd rather just stay here."

"Yes, I can see that," Tech says dryly, and Echo gets the distinct impression that his brother is making fun of him.

He scowls.

Tech is undeterred. "But I don't think that is what you actually want to do."

Echo's mouth opens to argue, but then closes it just as quickly. He's not sure what to say, not sure if he wants to say anything. Tech isn't wrong. He doesn't really want to stay on the ship, not truly. The idea of getting out and going somewhere is tempting, and if he's being honest with himself, the last thing he wants to do is sit here, stewing in his thoughts alone. Or worse, with Tech.

And he does need to stretch his legs.

He looks out the window again, taking in the sight of the planet before him. He's not sure what's going to happen once they get the signal for the next job, if they'll ever be back. He might never have this opportunity again.

He takes a breath.

"Fine," he says, throwing his hands up in the air. "You win."

Tech's lips twitch, a barely contained smile. "As I usually do."

Echo shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. He starts to make his way towards the door, and stops beside his brother.

"Thanks," he says, placing a hand on Tech's shoulder.

"You are welcome," Tech nods. “Try to be back by 0600 hours. If you are late, we will leave without you.

Echo snorts. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He leaves Tech there and heads to the ramp. His steps slow as he reaches the bottom, but he forces himself forward, out into the bright sunlight and fresh air.

Echo spends the next few hours wandering around Coruscant, letting his feet guide him.

He goes wherever the crowds take him, stopping at whatever catches his interest. It's nice, being able to let his mind go blank and not have to worry about where he's going. He doesn't have to think about anything, doesn't have to consider the consequences, or the risks.

He just exists.

And it feels good.

When he eventually decides to turn back, he's a bit surprised at how far he's come. He hadn't intended to venture so deep into the city, had just wanted a walk to clear his head. But the area he's found himself in is one he recognizes.

Your apartment is nearby.

Echo can feel his pulse start to quicken, his palm begins to sweat, and he stops in the middle of the walkway.

The sun has begun to set, and the crowds are thinning. You’ll be on your way home from work soon, if you weren’t already. His brain helpfully supplies the route you would take, and his eyes flit up towards the skyline. He can't see your building, but he knows it's there, not far away.

The knowledge sits heavy in his chest.

No, he tells himself, shaking his head. I shouldn't.

He has no way of knowing if you're even home. For all he knows, you could be busy, out with friends or maybe on a date.

Don't, his mind warns him. She's moved on. You shouldn't.

He hasn't been to your apartment since the morning he left. The memory is a sharp one, a jagged knife cutting through the fog of his past. He remembers the way your bed had felt, the warmth of your body, the sound of your breathing as you slept tucked against him.

It had been so peaceful.

It had been so easy to leave.

His mind starts to replay those moments, the goodbye you had given him, and it's like a punch to the gut. He knows how much you care about him, knows that if you were to see him again, that wouldn't have changed. You wouldn't turn him away.

The night before, you talked for hours. Your conversation had been punctuated with kisses and caresses, laughter and confessions. You told him how much you wanted him to stay, how much you wished he didn't have to leave, how much you wished things could be different. You talked about what the future might hold for the two of you, and he remembers how that felt, how it made him believe, even for just a moment, that things would work out.

They didn't, of course.

But Echo is still here, and so are you, and he can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the galaxy might be giving him a second chance.

He takes a deep breath.

There's no harm in taking a detour, he thinks.

He walks, following the familiar path, trying not to think too hard about what he's doing.

It doesn't take him long to reach the building. He hesitates in front of it, looking up at the facade. It looks just as it did the last time he was here. Same lobby, same doorman, same lift. They haven’t even fixed the panel that's been sticking, and it takes a good deal of force for him to press the button for your floor.

The doors close, and he stares at his reflection, at the dark circles under his eyes, the scruff that has accumulated on his cheeks and chin, the lines that have appeared at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. And then his gaze wanders to the ports and implants, the reminder of what was taken from him and what he was left with. He traces the outline of one with his thumb, remembering how he used to be.

He looks tired.

What are you doing? He asks himself.

He's not sure what he's expecting, doesn't have a plan for what will happen. All he knows is that he can't get the image of you out of his head. He imagines you coming home from work, and him being there, waiting. Would you be surprised? Happy? What would you say? What would he say?

Echo sighs.

He's an idiot.

The lift dings, and the doors slide open.

Your apartment is halfway down the hall, and Echo's stomach clenches with each step he takes. He reaches it and stands outside for a minute, running his fingers over the metal door, staring at the numbers painted on the surface.

It's just a door, he tells himself. Nothing special. Just a door.

His hand moves on its own, hovering over the bell. He waits, listens. There's no sound coming from inside, no music, no voices. Maybe you're not home yet.

Or maybe you're out. Maybe you're not alone.

He rings the bell and holds his breath, counting the seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Nothing.

Echo rings again, this time holding the button down for a few extra seconds, listening for any sign of movement.

There's nothing.

The knot in his stomach tightens, and he releases the button, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He runs a hand over his face, feeling the heat of his skin through his glove. He's sweating.

Well, that's it, then.

He'd thought he was prepared for this possibility, but hearing the silence behind the door and knowing that you aren't home has shaken him more than he anticipated.

Maybe this is for the best, he thinks. It's better this way. Safer.

But the disappointment is palpable.

He's not sure what to do. He considers waiting a little longer, just to make sure, but the more he thinks about it, the more stupid it seems. He doesn't belong here anymore. He shouldn't be here, standing outside your door, hoping for something that won't happen.

He needs to go.

As Echo turns away from the door, a voice calls out behind him.

"Can I help you?"

For half a second, he's sure he imagined it, sure that it's just his brain playing tricks on him, taunting him. But then the voice speaks again.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Echo spins around, heart leaping into his throat, and there you are.

Standing there, a few paces away, is the woman he's been dreaming about, the one he's thought about every day, the one he's missed so much that it hurts.

Your hair is different, longer than he's ever seen it, pulled away from your face. You're wearing a dress, something he's only seen a handful of times, and your makeup is impeccable, but he can still see the hint of tiredness behind your eyes. He wonders how many hours you've put in at work this week, how much you've had to fight for your clients.

But the most noticeable change is that you're looking at him. Your datapad is held loosely in your hands, a bag of groceries on your hip, and you’re staring at him, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He doesn’t blame you.

This is a strange situation, and you must be wondering who the hell is standing in front of you, why they rang your bell and then walked away.

"Um," Echo says, suddenly aware that he hasn't spoken. He clears his throat, trying to gather his wits. He didn't think this through. "Hi."

You blink, clearly not expecting that response.

"Hi," you reply, warily.

Echo tries to say something, but the words won't come.

He's frozen in place, staring at you, unable to do anything except take in your appearance, drinking in the sight of you. He didn't realize how much he needed to see you until now, and the relief he feels is overwhelming.

"Do I..." You trail off, studying him carefully. "Do I know you?"

He feels his heart break, just a little.

You don't recognize him. Of course, you wouldn't. It's been so long, and he's not the same man you knew. His face is one of thousands, identical and interchangeable. He doesn't even look like a clone anymore, not really. He's more machine than man, now, and he has no idea how he expected you to see him.

"Yeah," he manages to say, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, you do."

You raise your eyebrows, waiting. When he doesn't say anything else, you take a step towards him, squinting a little. He can feel the tension in his body, can sense your scrutiny. It's not comfortable, but it's not unpleasant, either.

"Sorry," you say, sounding frustrated, "I can't quite —"

You stop, your eyes widening, and Echo can see the exact moment it clicks.

"Oh," you gasp, covering your mouth with a shaking hand. The motion makes the paper bag of groceries on your arm start to slip, and Echo rushes forward to catch it, placing it on the floor by your feet. He stands up, and he can feel your eyes on him, can see the tears beginning to well up, can hear your breathing quicken.

He waits.

"Echo?" Your voice is soft, tentative, like you're not sure if he's real or not. Like he's some kind of ghost. He's not sure that's not what he is.

"Hey, cyar'ika," he says. His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again.

A small, incredulous laugh escapes you.

"Hi," you breathe. You cover your mouth again, trying to stifle the sob that rises from your chest. "I —" 

You let out a shaky breath, and then another, and then all of a sudden, you're crying, tears streaming down your face. Your hands come up to wipe them away, but more keep falling, and Echo is overwhelmed with the desire to hold you, to take away the pain and the sadness, to make everything right. But he doesn't know if he's allowed, doesn't know if it would be welcome. So instead, he just stands there, helpless.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "I can't believe it's you."

He smiles at that, his own eyes burning. "It's me," he confirms. "I'm here."

You're shaking your head, your eyes never leaving his face, as if you're afraid that he might disappear if you look away. He doesn't blame you, and he does his best to stay as still as possible. The last thing he wants is to scare you, or make you think he's going to leave. Not when he just got here.

"I thought..." You start, and then trail off.

"I know."

You swallow hard, taking a moment to compose yourself. "I thought you were dead."

Echo winces. He's heard those words from a lot of people, but coming from you, they hurt. "Yeah, I, uh... I thought so, too, for a while."

He sees the look of horror that crosses your face, the way your eyes grow wet again, and he wishes he hadn't said it.

"How... How long have you been back?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, strained, and Echo can hear the question underneath, the one you're afraid to ask. The one that makes his stomach twist into knots.

"Not long," he answers, trying to keep his tone even, light. "Only a couple months, really."

"Months?" you repeat, incredulous. "You've been back for months?"

Echo shifts uncomfortably and nods. "Yeah."

You stare at him, your mouth opening and closing as you search for words. "And... And you didn't comm me?"

"I, uh... No."

You let out a sharp exhale and turn away, bringing your hands to your face, and he can see that you're starting to shake again. You're silent for a moment, and he can feel his heart pounding, can feel the blood rushing in his ears. His stomach churns, and he feels like he's going to be sick.

"Why?" Your voice is tight, controlled. It's the same voice you use when you're working, the one you use to keep yourself calm, to keep yourself from getting angry.

"I just... I wasn't..." Echo trails off, not sure what to say. I wasn't sure if I was coming back? That's true, but not the whole truth. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me? Also true, but also not the full answer. I wasn't sure I was worth it? Yeah, that's the one.

But he can't say it.

He doesn't know if it's fear or guilt or shame, but whatever it is, it keeps the words stuck in his throat. You're waiting for an answer, and he's not sure he has one.

"Echo," you say, your voice a warning. You turn to face him again, and he can see the hurt and frustration in your eyes. He wants to hold you, wants to apologize, wants to take it all back. But he doesn't move. He can't.

"Why?" you repeat, more forcefully this time.

"I didn't want to bother you," he says. It's the best answer he can come up with, and the worst part is that it's also true. At least, that's what he tells himself.

But the moment the words leave his mouth, he knows it's the wrong thing to say. You stiffen, and then your jaw tightens. He can tell that you're barely holding it together, and he wants to say something, to explain, but he doesn't get the chance.

"You didn't want to bother me," you repeat, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can feel the sting of it. "I'm sorry, did I not make it clear how much I care about you?"

"No, you did," Echo says, backtracking, trying to placate you. "You did, I promise."

"Then please explain how you thought keeping me in the dark about the fact that the man I love was still alive and well was not a bother."

The word "love" hits him like a punch to the gut.

You love him. You still love him. You're still here, and you're still loving him, even after everything. He doesn't understand, doesn't know why. Doesn't know how. But he doesn't have time to think about it, not with the way you're looking at him, the hurt and confusion clear on your face.

"That's not what I meant," he says, his voice low, pleading. "It's not that. I promise."

You let out a shaky sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "What's the difference, then?"

Echo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, not knowing what to say.

"I mourned you," you say. Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, but it sounds loud in the silence between the two of you. "I loved you, and I mourned you, and I was doing okay, and then you just show up, and act like it's no big deal, like I didn't spend weeks, months waiting for you to come back, hoping you'd come back, and..."

Your voice cracks, and a fresh wave of tears begins to roll down your cheeks. Echo reaches out to brush them away, and you flinch. The motion stings, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't push it. He lets his hand drop to his side.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, you did," you say, sniffling.

The words hit him harder than he expects, and he feels his throat tighten.

"I didn't know what to say," he admits, his voice breaking. "I didn't know what to do."

"Why not?" you ask, and your anger has softened, turning into something else. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Echo says quickly. "Of course not. You were perfect. You were... You were amazing."

You look at him, and there's a vulnerability in your eyes that makes him want to gather you in his arms and never let go. He thinks maybe he should. But before he can, you speak.

"So what happened?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, but Echo can hear the desperation, the need for an answer. "Where were you? Why didn't you come back?"

“I—“ Echo looks around, suddenly aware of the hallway and the closed doors surrounding him, closing in on him. The space is too small, the walls are too close, the air is too thick. He feels trapped, like the world is closing in around him, and he takes a step back.

"Can we... Can we not do this out here?" he asks, trying not to let his voice betray his panic.

You study him for a moment, considering. He doesn't blame you. After all, he'd shown up out of the blue, and you had every right to be suspicious. You're still crying, but there's a steeliness in your gaze, and he can tell you're weighing your options, deciding if he's worth it or not. His heart hammers against his ribs as he waits, praying that you'll give him a chance.

Finally, you let out a sigh and nod.

"Yeah," you say, "sure."

You bend down to pick up the groceries, and Echo rushes forward, scooping them up before you can. You look at him, surprised.

"Let me help," he says. "Please."

You hesitate, and Echo can see the worry on your face, but then you nod, fumbling for the keypad. The lock clicks open, and you push the door open, motioning for him to go ahead.

He steps inside, and the familiar scent of your apartment hits him hard. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it, how much he'd come to associate it with safety and comfort. It makes his chest ache, and he takes a moment to steady himself, willing the tears to stop.

Your apartment is the same, and yet so different.

It's still cozy, but there's a coldness to the air, a lack of warmth. The curtains are closed, and the room is dark, the only light coming from the dim bulb above the stove in the kitchen. There are dishes stacked in the sink, and a few pieces of dirty laundry have been discarded on the couch. The floor is littered with shoes and other miscellaneous items, as if someone came home and kicked everything off their feet, leaving it all in a pile. Echo’s brow furrows at the mess, and he wonders when you started to let the place get this way.

"I'm sorry," you say, sounding embarrassed. You take the bag of groceries from him, your cheeks flushed. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Don't worry about it," he assures you.

"Here, let me..." You trail off, disappearing down the hall, and a moment later, he hears a door slam shut.

Echo stands there, unsure of what to do. His gaze wanders around the room, taking everything in, trying to find something to occupy himself with. It feels like years since he's been here, and the sensation is both comforting and strange. He remembers the nights he spent curled up next to you on the couch, the quiet mornings in the kitchen, the lazy afternoons spent in bed.

He shakes his head, trying to focus on the present.

You're back now, and he needs to concentrate.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers against the wood.

It's quiet, but Echo can hear you moving around, and he wonders if you're trying to clean up, trying to make the place a little more presentable. He doesn't care about any of that. He cares about you.

And he doesn't know what to say.

He runs his hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye, trying to think. He's rehearsed this moment in his head, has imagined all the different ways it could go.

And now that it's actually happening, he can't remember a single one.

He's such an idiot.

The minutes pass, and you finally return. He hears you enter the room, the soft sound of your footsteps, but he can't bring himself to look up. Not yet.

"Echo," you say, and he can hear the hesitation in your voice. "What happened?"

"I don't know where to start," he confesses, dropping his hand and glancing up at you.

You've changed into something more comfortable, a pair of sweatpants and your favorite sweater, and your face is scrubbed clean, makeup-free. It's nice to see you this way, a reminder of the times you shared together, and the sight makes him smile.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Nothing, it's just..." He pauses, his eyes wandering over you. "I forgot how you looked in sweatpants."

You roll your eyes, but there's a hint of amusement on your face. "Seriously? You're sitting here, after being missing for months, and you're making fun of my fashion choices?"

"I'm not making fun of you," he says, chuckling. The pressure in his chest eases slightly, and he takes a breath. "I just meant that I missed seeing you this way."

You let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, and then shake your head.

"You're unbelievable," you mutter.

Echo smiles, and for a moment, he feels normal. As if the last year never happened, and this was just a day like any other. As if he'd just come home from a mission, and you'd greet him with a kiss, and everything would be fine.

But then you sigh, and the moment is over.

"Look, I get that this is... Well, I'm sure this isn't what you were expecting," you say. You move to sit across from him, leaning your elbows on the table and resting your chin in your hands. "But we can't keep pretending like nothing happened. You have to talk to me."

Echo stares at you, his eyes taking in the familiar lines of your face, the curve of your lips, the color of your eyes. They aren’t as bright as he remembered, not as full of life, and the realization breaks his heart. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

"Okay," he begins, clearing his throat. "So, uh, this is going to be a lot."

"That's okay," you say gently. You give him a reassuring nod, and Echo feels a swell of gratitude for you. "Just... Start at the beginning, and we'll go from there."

"Right, the beginning." Echo nods, trying to organize his thoughts, and then he starts to speak.

He tells you everything, from the moment the explosion happened, to the moment he woke up and found himself in Rex's arms, everything in between. He tells you about his injuries, the surgeries, the physical therapy. He tells you about his time with the Batch, his newfound abilities, the things he's been able to do, the things he's learned. He talks about the missions, the jobs, the danger they've faced, and the risks they've taken. He tells you about the planets, the people, the experiences. He tries to leave nothing out, even the hard parts. The loss, the pain, the fear. He doesn't want to spare you any of it.

You sit there and listen, asking questions when necessary, but mostly staying silent. And when he's done, he sits there, feeling a strange sense of relief. He hadn't realized how much he needed to talk about everything, how much he'd been holding in. And he hadn't realized how good it would feel to tell you. To have someone who cared, someone he trusted, who knew him better than anyone.

When the words run out, and the room is silent, you let out a long, slow exhale. You sit there, your hands folded together, your gaze fixed on the tabletop, and Echo waits, not sure what to expect. But the longer the silence drags on, the more worried he gets.

"Cyar'ika?" he asks, his voice hesitant.

You take a breath and look up at him, and Echo is startled to see that your eyes are glassy, and there are fresh tear tracks running down your cheeks.

"Sorry," you apologize, wiping at them with your sleeve. "I'm not — I just..."

You take another breath, and then let it out, composing yourself. "Thank you," you say. "For telling me. I know that can't have been easy."

"It wasn't," Echo admits, and his throat tightens a little. "But I'm glad I did."

You offer him a small smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You look like you’re far away, lost in your own thoughts, and Echo has a feeling you're not fully present, not in the moment. And he doesn't blame you. His words can't have been easy to hear.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" he asks, trying to break the silence.

You glance at him, your eyes focusing, and then look away, your jaw clenching. Echo can see the emotion on your face, can tell that you're struggling to stay calm, to hold it together. You've always been good at that, he thinks.

"I just..." You pause, taking a shaky breath, and Echo can see the tears forming in your eyes again. "I just don't understand."

He frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

You close your eyes, taking a moment to collect yourself. Then, you stand up and begin pacing around the kitchen, your hands clasped behind your back. You move slowly, deliberately, your gaze fixed on the floor, like you're trying to make sense of something, figure something out. 

Echo watches you, feeling uneasy. You're not giving anything away, and the silence is starting to get to him. He's never seen you in the courtroom, but he imagines this is the stance you take when you're interrogating a witness. 

It's effective.

"Can you say something, please?" he asks. He knows he sounds desperate, but he doesn't care.

"I'm thinking," you say, and Echo bites his lip.

He feels like he's going to crawl out of his skin. He wants to get up, to follow you around the room, try to coax a response out of you. He wants to make this better, to make this right. But he knows that pushing you won't help, so he stays seated, trying to keep his patience.

 You continue to pace, your expression blank, and the seconds tick by, the only sound the muffled noises of the city outside. It feels like an eternity has passed when you finally stop, standing in front of him, your arms crossed.

"I can't believe you thought I wouldn't want to see you," you say. Your voice is low, almost a whisper, and there's an edge to it that Echo doesn't recognize. It's not anger, not exactly. It's something else, something deeper.

"I know," he replies, his voice just as quiet.

"I thought you were dead," you say, the words coming out in a rush. "I grieved you. I mourned you. And then you show up, and you're... You're alive, and you're here, and you think the best thing to do is to leave me alone?"

"I didn't know what would happen," Echo explains, trying to keep his tone calm. "I wasn't sure if I was coming back, and I didn't want to —"

"No," you say sharply, cutting him off. "That's not an excuse. That's bullshit, and you know it."

Echo swallows, and nods, not sure what to say.

"We made promises," you continue, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can see the frustration on your face. "To each other. We talked about our future, we said things that... We made things that were real, and then you just decided it was too much, and you walked away. What the hell is that?"

"I'm sorry," Echo says around the lump forming in his throat. "I shouldn't have —"

"No," you interrupt, your eyes burning. "You shouldn't have."

Echo looks at you, and he feels like he's going to shatter. You’re staring at him with such intensity, and there's an anger in your gaze that he hasn't seen before. It's so different from the gentle look you usually give him, and it makes him ache.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he says. "I swear, I didn't."

"Then why did you?" you ask, and there's a note of pleading in your voice. “I spent so long wondering, worrying, and you just... You didn't care."

"Of course I did," he argues. "It wasn't about that."

"Then what was it about, Echo?" you demand. "What was so important that you thought you couldn't tell me? That you couldn't comm me, or send a message, or do anything that would have let me know you were alive? That would have told me you were okay?"

"I didn't think —"

"What, that I'd care? That I'd worry? That I'd miss you? That I'd wonder where you were, and if you were okay, and what the hell happened to you?" you say, your voice rising.

Echo can feel the frustration building inside him, and he knows he shouldn't respond, knows that getting angry won't help, but the words tumble out before he can stop them. "I'm sorry," he snaps. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"That's not an excuse," you snap back, and Echo blinks, shocked. You're the most level-headed person he's ever met, and he's never heard you yell before.

"Yeah, well, it's the best one I've got," he says.

"Echo, I loved you," you say, and the past tense stings. "When Fives told me what happened to you, I —" Your voice catches, and the fight goes out of him. He can see the pain on your face, the hurt in your eyes, and he can't help but feel responsible. "I can't even describe it. It felt like my whole world was ending. And I don’t blame you for doing your duty, but I do blame you for not coming back to me."

"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I really am."

You shake your head, turning away from him. "Why didn't you comm me?"

Echo hesitates. He doesn't want to admit his fears, his worries, the insecurities that have plagued him. He doesn't want to tell you how much he doubted, how much he doubted you. It feels too vulnerable, too raw. And it would only make you feel worse. But the longer the silence stretches, the more you deserve the truth. And he can't avoid it forever.

"I didn't think I was worth it," he says, his voice low. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, the sting of embarrassment. He can't look at you, doesn't want to see the pity, the disappointment, the anger. "I didn't think I was worth it."

You turn to face him, your expression softening.

"You were all I had left," he says. He feels exposed, and it's not a comfortable feeling, but he can't stop now. Not with the way you're looking at him. Not when he's so close to fixing this, to getting you back. "After everything that happened, I just... I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"You really thought I'd just leave you?"

Echo can hear the hurt in your voice, and he's surprised at the sharpness of it. He expected to be met with some amount of anger, but he didn't expect it to cut so deep. He didn't think his insecurities would upset you so much. He's used to it, by now. After everything he's been through, the doubts and worries have become a constant, an almost comforting presence. But you were never supposed to know about them.

"It's not that," he says. "I know you wouldn't have left me. It's just... I didn't want to drag you down with me."

"That's stupid," you reply. There's no malice in your voice, but there's no sympathy, either. "What makes you think I couldn't handle it?"

"It's not about what you could handle," Echo says. "You didn't sign up for this. You didn't sign up for any of it."

"I signed up for you," you argue, and Echo is startled by the fierceness of your tone.

"And look at what that got you."

You fall silent, and Echo regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He's always known he wasn't good enough for you, but it's different to actually say it out loud. It makes it real. And he's not sure he's ready for that. But you're looking at him like you can't believe he said it, and the disappointment in your eyes makes him feel even worse. 

Your eyes rove over him, taking in the scarring, the metal implants, the ports and wires, the armor. You look like you’re seeing him for the first time, and the disgust and fear he’d thought might appear are nowhere to be found, just a profound sense of sadness and resignation.

"Oh, Echo," you breathe. The words are quiet, but they feel like a slap, and he has to look away, not wanting to meet your gaze.

"I'm not the man you knew," he says. He sounds defeated, even to his own ears. His eyes are burning, and he has to fight to keep the tears from falling. He hates how weak he feels, how small, how vulnerable. "I can't be. I'm... I'm not him anymore."

"Yes, you are," you insist. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently, and the sensation makes him jump. He'd almost forgotten how warm you are, how soft. How safe. He wants to hold on, to pull you close, to never let go. "You're still the same man, the same Echo, I just..."

"What?" he asks, when you trail off. "You just what?"

You sigh, dropping his hand and running your fingers through your hair, tugging lightly. The familiar gesture makes him ache. "I don't know, Echo," you admit. "I'm... I'm sad. And I'm angry. But I'm mostly just... Confused."

"Confused about what?"

"I'm confused as to why you didn't come back to me," you say. "I'm confused as to why you thought I'd want anything else."

"I thought you deserved better," he says, the words sounding hollow, even to his own ears. "I thought you deserved someone who was whole, who could give you a normal life, who didn't have a hundred years of baggage and trauma to deal with. And I was terrified that you already had that."

"Had what?"

"A normal life," he answers. "Without me. And the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself it was true."

"It's not," you say. Your voice is quiet, but firm, and Echo looks at you, searching for any trace of doubt, of hesitation, of insincerity. But all he finds is determination, and it makes his heart clench. The intensity in your gaze is too much, and he has to look away. His eyes trail over the walls, the ceiling, the floor, lingering on the groceries on the table, the dishes in the sink, the empty bottles of wine shoved into the trash, the pile of laundry on the couch. There’s a dent in the wall that wasn't there the last time he was here, and the carpet is worn. He wonders when that happened.

He feels a tug on his arm, and then you're reaching up to cup his face, your hands soft and warm. You turn his head to face you, your thumb stroking his cheek. The touch is gentle, comforting, and Echo can't stop the sigh that escapes him. It's been so long since someone touched him like this, and it's nice. It's more than nice. It's familiar. It's safe. It's home.

"I only wanted you," you whisper.

"Even after everything?" he asks. He doesn't mean to sound so incredulous, but he can't help it. He's spent so long convincing himself that you were better off without him, and now, hearing you say the opposite, hearing you say the words he'd only ever hoped for, the ones he'd tried to convince himself were true... It's a lot to take in.

"Even after everything," you affirm.

"You could have had anyone," he says. "Why me?"

"Because I love you," you answer, as if it's the simplest thing in the galaxy. As if it's the most obvious thing in the universe. "And I don't want anyone else."

"Cyar'ika..." His voice cracks, and the tears are falling freely now. You wipe them away, and the touch makes his chest ache.

"I've never stopped loving you, Echo," you say. Your voice is barely audible, but Echo hears it. And it's the best sound he's ever heard. "And I don't plan on stopping now."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry I left you, and I'm sorry I didn't comm you, and I'm sorry I was such a coward, and I'm —"

"Shh," you murmur, cutting him off. "I forgive you."

Echo can't speak. He's not sure he can move, can't even breathe. The relief is overwhelming, and it threatens to knock him off his feet. His chest tightens, and the tears won't stop falling, and he doesn't know what to do. He's missed you so much, has regretted leaving every single day, and now that you're here, now that he has you back, he can't find the words to express how grateful he is, how relieved, how happy.

"You really thought I was going to leave you?" you ask, and Echo can hear the note of humor in your voice, can see the ghost of a smile on your face. It's reassuring, and he lets himself smile, too.

"Honestly? Yes," he admits.

"Never," you reply.

Echo leans down and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. You move your hands down his face, brushing the tears away with your thumbs, before bringing them around his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He moves to do the same, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. You let out a quiet gasp of surprise, and Echo chuckles, holding you tighter.

"I missed you," he whispers, and it feels good to say the words out loud. "So much."

"I missed you, too," you say, your breath warm against his neck. You tilt your head and press a kiss against his throat, and Echo feels his heart stutter. "More than I can say."

Echo hums and pulls away, bringing his hand up to brush the hair away from your face. Your skin is warm, and soft, and he leans in and presses a kiss against your forehead, savoring the contact. You sigh, and he can't resist the urge to kiss you again, this time on the cheek.

"Echo," you murmur, letting out a shaky breath.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, and your grip on his neck tightens, your fingers digging into the fabric of his blacks. He moves down your throat, trailing kisses along the column of your neck, and you gasp.

"I missed you, too," he murmurs, and you laugh.

"Yeah, I got that," you say. "Now, will you please kiss me?"

Echo smiles and obliges.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and it tastes like home. He cups the back of your neck, his scomp moving to rest on your hip, and you let out a pleased noise, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. The warmth of your mouth, the way your lips part, the little gasps and sighs you make, it all makes him want to get closer, to be nearer.

You break the kiss, and Echo lets out a quiet whimper. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder, and Echo brings his hand up to stroke your hair, his fingers combing through the strands. You sigh and lean into his touch, and he can't help the contented smile that spreads across his face.

"I'm glad you're here," you murmur. "I'm glad you came back."

"Me, too," he says. He tilts your head up and presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering. You close your eyes and nuzzle his neck, and Echo sighs, holding you close. It feels so good to have you in his arms again, to be able to hold you, and he wishes he could stay here forever. But the reality of the situation catches up with him, and he can't help the wave of guilt that washes over him.

"I'm sorry, Cyar'ika," he says.

You frown, and pull away slightly. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I didn't think this through," he admits. "I... I didn't know what was going to happen, and now..." He pauses, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I just... I'm sorry. I’m leaving soon, and I know it's going to be hard, and I know you're going to have to say goodbye again, and I'm —"

"Echo," you interrupt, and your voice is firm. You put your hand on his chest, and he can feel the heat of it, even through the layers of armor and clothing. "I know what I signed up for. I'm not expecting anything different."

"But —"

"No," you cut him off. "No buts. I knew what this was, Echo. And I still want it."

"But you shouldn't have to," Echo argues. "I don't want to put you through that."

"Well, it's a little late for that," you reply. Your tone is sharp, and Echo winces. "Look, Echo. I know the situation isn't ideal, but I'm not going to walk away because it's hard. And I'm not going to stop caring just because it hurts." You look at him, and the determination in your gaze makes his heart skip a beat. "You're worth it, okay? No matter what."

"Cyar'ika —"

"No," you say, shaking your head. "You're not changing my mind. You can try, but it's not going to work. So don't waste your time." You give him a stern look, and then your face softens. "Okay?"

"Okay," Echo agrees. He knows it's futile to argue. He's never been able to say no to you. Not when it matters. "I'm still sorry, though."

You roll your eyes, and then stand on your toes and give him a quick kiss. "You're lucky I love you," you say, and the words make him feel lighter.

"Yeah, I am," he agrees, grinning.

"So, what now?" you ask.

Echo shrugs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He's been so focused on finding you, on convincing you to forgive him, on making things right, that he hasn't thought about what comes next. The prospect of it is both exhilarating and terrifying, and he doesn't know where to start. There's so much to do, and so little time. And he doesn't want to waste another second.

"Do you want to stay?" you offer.

"Stay?"

"Here," you clarify. "For a while. I don't know how long you can, but..." You pause, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “I was going to make dinner. If you wanted to stay."

"Dinner?" Echo repeats, and he can't hide the excitement in his voice. The idea of a home-cooked meal is so far removed from his life now, so distant, that the thought of it almost makes him lightheaded. "Really?"

You laugh, and the sound fills him with warmth. "Yes, Echo. Really."

"What are you making?" he asks. The question sounds childish, and he can't believe how eager he is, how excited.

"Just a simple dish," you say. You move towards the counter and begin putting the groceries away, and Echo follows you, a smile spreading across his face. While you tell him about the recipe, he moves toward your sink, picking up a dish and turning the water on. You look over at him, and the fondness in your eyes makes him blush. "You don't have to do that, Echo."

"I know," he replies. "I want to."

"Well, alright then."

The two of you work together, talking and laughing as you wash the dishes and prepare the food. Echo feels lighter than he has in months, and it's a relief to be here with you, to have something normal and familiar to do. Something so domestic, so ordinary, and yet, so special.

He wants to remember this.

When the food is ready, you gesture to the table, and Echo takes a seat. You sit across from him, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other. He's missed you, missed this. Missed being here, missed having someone who knew him, someone he could trust. Someone he could love.

You're both quiet, and Echo can see the wheels turning in your head, can see the way your eyes dart over him, taking everything in. You're cataloging, committing him to memory too. The realization hits him, and his chest tightens. He'll be leaving soon, and you're doing what you can to make sure you won't forget him. It's a sobering thought, and he's not sure how to handle it.

"Hey," you say, and Echo looks up, meeting your gaze. "It's okay. We'll be fine."

"How did you know?" he asks, startled.

You shrug. "It's written all over your face."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I wish I could stay."

"It's okay," you repeat. “We have the night, and that’s more than enough. For now, let's just enjoy the time we have."

Echo nods.

You're right.

You always are.

You smile, and it's so beautiful, so genuine, that it takes his breath away. You reach across the table and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, and you lean forward, resting your elbows on the table and putting your chin in your hand. The way you're looking at him, the affection in your eyes, it makes him feel like he's the only thing that matters, like he’s home.

And, right now, he is.

He's missed this.

He's missed you.

And as the two of you sit there, enjoying each other's company, Echo knows he's made the right choice. He knows that coming back was worth it, that finding you, fixing things, making things right, it's all been worth it. And he knows that, no matter what, he'll be back.

He'll find his way back to you.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

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@marchingviolinist @deerspringdreams

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 11 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets a few second chances in the midst of a deployment he would rather not have to complete. He just wants to be home with you, trying to fix what is broken. But he doesn't know how much you've been struggling.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley felt devastation. Were you really going to make him wait the full eight weeks before you would talk to him? He couldn't do it. He had too much to say, and he needed to see your face.

"Fuck." He entered your phone number and tried again. And again. But as he was about to enter it for the fourth time, he grasped the iPad and forced himself to stand. 

"No answer?" the officer asked when Bradley handed it back to him. His response was somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and he felt like crying. "Want me to add you back onto the list?"

"Please," Bradley rasped, swallowing hard. It was still dinnertime. He could go back and get something to eat. But he'd lost his appetite, and even though he didn't mind bunking with Bob, having a few minutes alone in the room sounded like his best bet. 

It felt like his feet weighed a ton as he walked along all three corridors and down a flight of stairs before he was at his bunk door. And then he collapsed onto his bed without even removing his boots. You always picked up. You always answered his calls. You even answered after Josh attacked you. 

Bradley thought he was going to be sick. And then Bob unlocked the door and let himself inside. "Hey, Bob," he grunted, rubbing his temples with his fingers. 

"Oh. You seem annoyed that I'm here," he replied, closing the door very slowly. "Do you want to kick me out again so you can have the bunk to yourself?"

Bradley turned and looked at him, thoroughly confused. "Again?"

Bob blushed a little bit as he kept his hand on the doorknob. "Uh, yeah. Last time we bunked together? A few years ago? You kicked me out of the room in the middle of the night."

Bradley sat up on his bed. "I did?"

"Yeah," Bob said softly. "You came back annoyed with me. You asked me to leave. You had a woman with you."

Bradley felt even sicker now. He could vaguely remember what Bob was talking about. A deployment before he met you. It had been late. He wanted to hook up. And Bob had been his roommate at the time. 

"I can't believe I did that," Bradley whispered, getting to his feet and taking Bob by both shoulders, leading him away from the door. "That's never going to happen again." He gave him a quick hug. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave the bunk, okay? And I'm not going to hook up with anyone, unless my wife miraculously appears here and decides she still loves me."

Bob nodded. "She still loves you."

"I know she does," Bradley replied as he sank back down onto his bed. This time he removed his boots and tossed them next to the door. "I just need to do a lot better. I just want to have a happy wife."

"Yeah," Bob agreed, also untying his boots. "She makes you a lot better. You don't kick people out of their rooms anymore, and you always remember everyone's birthday."

Bradley groaned and nodded. "That's because she remembers everyone's birthday, and she reminds me."

Bob smiled and nodded as he pulled out some notebooks and a pen. "You were still annoyed though. When I came in just now. You can tell me why if you want to."

Bradley sat up and faced Bob across the few feet of space between their beds. "She didn't answer when I tried to call her. This is a first."

"Hmm," Bob hummed thoughtfully without saying anything else.

"Yeah," Bradley added. "There's a lot I want to tell her. Shit she deserves to hear. I'm afraid I'm going to forget or completely fuck it up by the time I get to talk to her."

Bob tried to hand him a notebook and his pen. "Write it down."

"Write what down?" Bradley asked, cautiously taking the offered items and flipping through the notebook which was empty.

"Write down all the things you want to say. I started journaling a few years ago to help organize my thoughts and manage my anxiety. I think it's helped me in a lot of ways, including making me a better, calmer aviator. But you could write notes to or about your wife. See what works."

And then Bob started writing in the other notebook, leaving Bradley to his own thoughts. He opened up to that first, pristine page and placed the pen to it.

Dear Baby Girl

----------------------------

You felt great after Sunday brunch with Cam and Maria. As soon as you got there, you said, "We've been trying to get pregnant. I'm not pregnant. Let's have mimosas and not talk about Bradley." And they listened. And it was wonderful. And it's not that you didn't want to talk about him or think about him, it was that you really needed a break. Because he was the only thing you were thinking about. 

On Monday, as soon as you got to work, it felt like you were leaving again for your doctor's appointment. You didn't even want to go. You didn't want to get on the scale. Ever since you overdid it on your honeymoon months ago, you'd been afraid to weigh yourself, because you knew this could be adding to your issues. 

When the nurse took your blood pressure and then told you to get onto the scale, you couldn't even look at the readout. You'd bring it up to the doctor in private, away from everyone else in the hallway. 

And then you were led back to an exam room and left to squirm around on the paper covered table in the rough hospital gown while you stared at your uniform folded neatly on the chair by the door. Your name tag was boldly reminding you that you'd tacked Bradshaw onto your last name. When your doctor walked in, she used your full hyphenated name when she greeted you, and you tried to smile. 

You thought about Bradley as you decided to get everything out of the way right from the start. "I want to talk about my weight. And fertility."

But a few minutes later, you were sitting with your mouth hanging slightly open. "You've lost almost fourteen pounds since this time last year. Were you intentionally trying to lose weight?" she asked, eyeing you carefully. 

"N-No. I thought I gained a lot of weight. I've been nervous to check. I'm...trying to get pregnant."

She nodded and started to examine your eyes and ears as she said, "You need to make sure you're taking care of yourself. Eating well. Three meals a day. Healthy snacks. Exercising." Then she looked you in the eye. "Based on your age and general health, I can refer you to a specialist once you've been trying for eight to twelve cycles without success. And your husband can have some tests run then as well."

"Right," you replied with a soft sigh, thinking about Bradley's exceptionally fucking awesome sperm once again. But you cracked a smile. "I'm already five cycles in, so halfway there."

She nodded. "You just give me a call if you need to."

You left the medical building, still adjusting your uniform and wondering how you'd lost so much weight without noticing. But your pants were feeling a little loose now. And so was your shirt. They were snug after your honeymoon. Had you lost fourteen pounds in just a few months?

When you reached your car, you closed your eyes and swallowed past the lump in your throat. You were not taking very good care of yourself. You could barely remember the last time you had lunch at work or ate something other than a protein bar for breakfast. Memories of lavish weekend breakfasts with Bradley filled your mind. You'd be perched on his lap, sharing one plate full of eggs, bacon, potato pancakes and grilled vegetables. When was the last time you did that? Spent an hour eating breakfast together with the occasional brush of Bradley's mustache along your neck? 

You had to wipe your tears away as you unlocked your door and climbed inside. You started the engine as you pulled your phone out of your bag. 

"No!" 

Missed FaceTime call from RESTRICTED

"Fuck!" Your fingers were shaking as you tried to enter your passcode. Then you tried to call back. Not Connected. Not Connected. Not Connected. 

You sat in your car and cried. You missed a call from Bradley. It must have been him. You missed it by seven minutes. And now it could be weeks before you got another opportunity to talk to him. 

Panic rose in your chest. He probably thought you ignored him. "Roo," you sobbed, resting your forehead on your steering wheel. You missed him so much, you felt sick most of the time. You were counting down the days to the start of your period, and you could remember how he used to plug your heating pad in for you and bring you Tylenol. He used to rub your back and share a bottle of wine. You missed him, and you wanted him back home, doing all the silly little things he used to do. You knew how good things could be. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you looked at the missed call notification one more time. Then you turned your volume up to full blast. You'd take your phone everywhere from now on. You drove back to work with a sinking feeling in your chest. What if he didn't even bother trying to call you back again?

That thought stayed with you all day, and you had to force yourself to grab something to eat on your way back up to your office. You choked down a sandwich that tasted disgusting as you sat there alone. 

You felt even worse the next day since you were barely able to sleep. And you knew you needed to eat something, but you couldn't even stomach any coffee. You headed right to work after you let Tramp out, and you didn't even make it to your lab before you ran into your boss. 

"Meet me in my office, Lieutenant Commander," Captain Bickel told you. "I need you to look over some paperwork that came in from Annapolis on the overlapping project."

"Right now, sir?" you asked softly. Your body was practically trembling with anxiety. 

"Yes," he replied, and your heart sank. You followed him down the hallway, each step harder to physically complete than the last. When you sank down into the chair across from his desk, he handed you a folder. Your hand visibly shook as you took it from him, and you were almost too nauseous to feel embarrassed. Almost. 

Heat and sweat broke out on your neck, and the cool air gave you goosebumps. You could feel every little hair on your body stand up on end as you listened to your boss talking, but nothing was processing in your mind. That missed call had you in almost constant hysterics, and you didn't know who to talk to about it. Nobody would understand how much of a fucking big deal this was to you. You promised Bradley you'd always answer his calls. You promised him. 

"Is that right?" Bickel asked you, his voice sounding muffled to your ears. "Lieutenant Commander? Is that right?"

You looked down at the unopened folder in your lap, and tears started to stream down your cheeks. It didn't even feel like you were crying. But you must be? It didn't make sense at all, but when you opened your mouth, you heard a choked sob as you tried to meet his eyes.

He was around the desk, kneeling in front of your chair immediately. "Hey," he kept saying over and over again, and you wanted to tell him to stop, but you just kept crying. There was soft pressure on the back of your hand where his palm was resting. You were still trying to meet his eyes, and when you finally did, he used your first name. "Are you okay?"

You sucked in so much air that it hurt your insides. Everything was uncomfortable and too quiet, and you could barely speak, but you managed to say, "I don't know."

So he just sat there with you as you gulped in more air that hurt while your head throbbed. It probably took you a long time until the weight of your body in the chair felt normal again, and you realized you were sitting in your own sweat. You were hungry and gross and you missed your husband. When your boss asked, "What can I do for you?" the only thing you could do right away was shrug. 

But a few beats later, you managed to whisper, "Do you remember when Josh was here, and you asked me if I wanted to talk to someone?"

His face looked even more alarmed now, but you didn't have the energy to explain anything to him. "Yes," he replied, and he stood and reached for his phone. You clutched at Bradley's wedding band through the fabric of your shirt.

-----------------------------

"The better plan for a more efficient flight path would be to take out the communications tower first and then strike their base," Admiral Dean informed the group of aviators for about the hundredth time. Bradley could have drawn the terrain maps from memory by now. He also couldn't help but think that the admirals were making sure that Slayer, Charmer and the other children were keeping up with the plans. "But we'll decide on the day of the mission which tactical option is better. Any questions?"

"Sir, what does the terrain look like again?" Charmer asked politely.

"Very good question," Dean replied, and Bradley gritted his teeth. It was a fucking idiotic question, and the rest of the room know it. He could practically feel the rage rolling off of Phoenix. If anyone from Top Gun had asked that question, the admiral would have snapped. Plus, Charmer and Slayer had taken to referring to Nat as Honey, which almost sent Bradley through the roof every single time. 

When everyone was dismissed for lunch, he was the first one out of the room, taking out his phone and opening it up to the notes app. Writing in the notebook from Bob every night had actually been more helpful than he expected, and occasionally he added a note to his phone so he would remember to write it down that night. He wasn't writing love letters exactly. They were more like little notes in which he was trying to describe how he felt about you. Trying to put into sentences everything he wanted to change, and also the things he wanted to stay the same. 

But the notebook was for him. You didn't need to read it. He'd keep it and look at it when he got home and started trying to put his marriage back on track. 

"Hey, Honey, you think you should be eating a sandwich instead of making me a sandwich?" Bradley looked up from his phone only to realize he had made it all the way to the dining hall. And Slayer was acting like a complete prick to Nat. She was the only female aviator on this detachment, which usually wouldn't have been an issue, but it was right now. 

Bradley saved the note he had written, and he turned to Slayer and calmly said, "Do you know how to shut your mouth, or do I need to show you?"

Loud booming laughter filled the space between them. "Old man, you couldn't show me how to do jack fucking shit. Except maybe nail your dog of a wife with a limp dick."

Bradley was for a split second reminded of the last time you and he had sex, and he could feel his cheeks start to flush. The thing was, Bradley didn't really mind the attention being on him instead of Nat or Bob, but this is what seemed to make his best friend snap. Nat snatched his phone out of his hand and held up the lock screen, which was actually a photo of you from the honeymoon. In your red bikini. With your tits pressed together and a dirty little smirk on your face. Bradley snapped it about a minute after he finished fucking you on the deck next to the pool.

"Does she look like a dog to you?" Nat asked the guys, and their eyes bugged out. This was bad. "No, she does not. And I'm not your Honey. Stop harassing me. Stop harassing Rooster. And stop harassing Bob."

But Slayer was still laughing. "She's hot, old man. She's definitely fucking around behind your back. Doubt you can keep up. Hell, I'd nail her." 

"Me too," Charming added as Bradley tucked his phone away in his pocket. And now Nat seemed to realize she shouldn't have reacted the way she did. Because Bradley was pissed. These fucking dipshits were really just the cherry on top of an already shitty deployment. 

"Let's get out of here," Nat said, about to reach for his arm. 

"I'm cool," Bradley snarled, even though he felt anything but. "Let's get some food." He picked up a tray and gripped it with white knuckles as he piled it up at random with food he didn't even really want. His mind was unfocused, and now he was thinking about how easy it actually would be for you to cheat on him while he was deployed. But that was a two way street, and he didn't want to open that horrible thought up inside of himself. 

"I'm sorry," Nat whispered as the two of them found a seat while Bob meandered over like he was unfazed by everything. Because he probably was. He had invited Bradley to join him while he meditated each night before bed. At first Bradley thought it seemed silly, but perhaps he was actually onto something. 

"Don't apologize, Nat."

"I shouldn't have taken your phone-"

"It's fine," he said, cutting her off. He was too tired to converse as he bit into his food. But it tasted like shit, so when he heard his name being called, he didn't mind the interruption. "I'm Bradshaw," he told the deckhand who was carrying an envelope. 

"What's that?" Nat asked, leaning over his arm as he opened it and pulled out a handwritten note on thick, creamy paper. 

"Holy shit," Bradley muttered. "It's from the commanding officer."

Her eyes bugged out. "As in the captain of the aircraft carrier?"

"Looks like it," Bradley replied as he read the note.

Lieutenant Commander B. Bradshaw,

You may use my personal communication device this evening at 2300 hours in my study.

Admiral Berry

He wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but given the chance, he would absolutely try to call you again.

---------------------------------

You looked at Dr. Genevieve in her khaki uniform with her hair pulled up into a tight bun. She reminded you of your mom with her placid smile and sharp eyes. You were sitting in a soft, brown leather chair across from her, sipping some lemonade and eating the pretzel sticks Bickel gave you. And you already felt a lot better, although slightly embarrassed. But you were here now. And she was more than willing to talk to you.

"I... should have probably come here a few weeks ago," you said softly before taking one last sip of your drink. 

"Today's a good day to talk," she replied, but she didn't rush you. 

"Yeah," you said, nodding as you ran your palm down the arm of the chair in her office on base. "That's probably true. I'm... struggling? For lack of a better word? I guess?"

"That word is okay to use. But struggling is normal, Lieutenant Commander. It's something we all do."

So you took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. "I had a panic attack. In front of my boss," you groaned, covering your eyes with your hand. 

She kind of shrugged. "That's a pretty safe place for that kind of thing."

"I guess so," you replied with a little laugh. But then your face fell as you played with a stray thread on your uniform shirt. "I'm afraid I messed up my marriage," you said, barely loud enough for her to hear. But when you met her eyes through your tears, you were certain she heard you. "And I want to fix all of it, but I don't know how."

And with a few words of encouragement from her, you let loose. If you had to guess, you thought you must have gone on for ten minutes without stopping. You told this woman everything, and with each passing sentence, it started to feel easier to keep going. She took a few notes, and asked a few followup questions, but ultimately she let you talk as much as you wanted to. About whatever you wanted to. 

And even though you were exhausted and your uniform was uncomfortable, you felt so much better as you said, "I was getting my physical the other day. And I had so many questions for my doctor, and I've been so focused on trying to get pregnant. Apparently I lost weight. And I know I haven't been eating. And I think I can get better. Used to be a lot better. But when I finally thought to check my phone, I missed a call from Bradley. And I'm so afraid he thinks I didn't want to talk to him," you gasped as your voice cracked. 

As the back of your head came to rest against the leather, you closed your eyes. You could just picture him and the way he smiled at you. The way he had always smiled just for you. And maybe you should feel more like crying right now, but you were just too fucking tired. 

Dr. Genevieve waited until you were looking at her again before she asked, "You'd want to talk to your husband now? If you could have the chance?"

"Yes, but God... it could be weeks before he's allowed to call again. If at all." Just thinking about it had that cold, clammy feeling building inside you again. 

"Hmm," she hummed. "You said he's on the Theodore Roosevelt?"

"Yep," you replied. "Good old, Teddy. He told me he's been deployed to that vessel more than any other," you said, feeling like you were at the point of rambling nonsense now. But at least your heart was no longer pounding behind your eyes.

"Well, I'll see what I can do."

After that, you left her office and Bickel dismissed you for the day. But Dr. Genevieve told you to keep your phone on you, and you promised you would. And perhaps you should have been mortified when you got home only to answer the door twenty minutes later for a delivery guy, but you weren't.

"I didn't order any food," you told him, but he just handed you two bags and left without asking you to pay. When you took the bags to the kitchen and emptied them onto the counter, you saw a receipt that said it had been charged to J. Bickel. "Oh," you gasped, and Tramp looked up at you. "Yeah, he's pretty chill," you informed your dog about your boss. 

And then you cut the enormous sandwich in half and carried it to the dining room table along with the soup and salad. You ate until you couldn't physically take another bite, and then you got into a hot bath and stayed there until the water turned cool. 

It wasn't even 6 o'clock when you got yourself into bed, but your belly was full and you felt clean. And it had been such a relief to talk to someone who you'd never met before about every dirty detail you'd been living with. Your chest didn't hurt as much, and you didn't feel as helpless. 

You rubbed Tramp's belly, and just as you turned to plug your phone in, it started ringing. You gasped and dropped it on the floor. "Shit!" You almost fell out of bed as you scrambled for it. You'd caught a glimpse of Restricted Caller on the screen, but you wanted to make sure. 

"Bradley?" you nearly shrieked as you answered the call and finally got to see your husband's face. "Bradley!"

"Baby Girl," he rasped, and you sank to the floor as you smiled and started to cry. 

"I'm sorry," you said quickly as he shook his head. "I'm so sorry I let you leave without making sure you heard me when I told you I love you. Because I love you, and I miss you. And I'm sorry I didn't answer your call on Monday! But I was at my doctor's appointment!"

"Shh," he soothed, his eyes glued on yours as he shook his head again. "It's okay. I love you. And I don't need you to apologize for any of that right now. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry I let you down."

"Roo."

"I just need to know you still love me."

"Of course I still love you," you sobbed, wiping your eyes on his soft UVA shirt. "Bradley, I always will."

His eyes dipped down. "You're wearing my ring, Sweetheart?" 

You nodded and reached for the charms and his wedding band where they hung. "Why did you leave it?" you asked in a tiny, pathetic voice. "I hate that you're not wearing your ring."

He gave you a funny look. "I am," he insisted, holding up his left hand for you to see. 

"What's that?" you asked, examining something that was very much not his wedding band. 

"The silicone ring I told you I was ordering. I actually hate it," he said with a laugh. "You look so beautiful."

"When did you tell me you were ordering a silicone ring?" you asked.

"I don't know," he murmured. "A month ago? I put it on the shopping list on the fridge and asked if you wanted one, too. God, you look so beautiful."

But you just stared at him before springing to your feet and taking your phone into the kitchen. "Oh," you gasped. The magnetic whiteboard was partly covered by a piece of paper, and the marker had gotten smudged, but there it was. Bradley's pre deployment shopping list. You had been so distracted lately, nothing was sticking in your mind when it should have been. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, Sweetheart," he said, and you looked back at your phone. "I wouldn't have left you without a ring on. Ever. And I can't wait to get back home and get the real thing off your necklace chain and put it back on my finger."

"You can't wait?" you asked, matching his little smile with your own. 

"Of course I can't wait. I'm ready to come home now. I love you. Being away from you and feeling uncertain has been terrifying." 

You couldn't believe how calm he sounded. Like he was just waiting to hear from you and see you, knowing everything would be okay. "I've been having a rough time," you said very softly as you walked back toward the bedroom. "It hasn't been okay."

He looked more concerned now. "We'll fix it," he promised. "As soon as we're together, we will fix it. No matter what it takes. You are my top priority. And that's never going to change. You understand?"

"Yeah," you whispered as you climbed back into bed. 

"If you're not happy with me, then I need to try harder and do better," he promised. "Until there's no doubt in your mind about how much I love you. And I don't need anything else."

There was an unspoken undertone of how the two of wanted and had been trying for a baby. But you didn't want to be the one to say it. "You're sure you don't need anything else?"

He nodded and said, "I'm sure, Sweetheart. I'd be lucky to get to spend the rest of my life with you. Just you. Me and you."

You felt calm in a way you hadn't been in months. It felt like you were melting back into your pillow as Bradley said, "Now why don't you tell me how you pulled this one off. Because I'm sitting in the Commanding Officer's quarters right now, using Admiral Berry's personal iPad."

You laughed, realizing he was sitting in front of an elaborate looking bookshelf as he smiled at you. "I think Admiral Berry is married to Dr. Genevieve Berry." And when you told him you had a panic attack at work and talked to a therapist on base, your husband said he was proud of you for taking care of yourself.

"I haven't been though, Roo," you whispered sadly as you burrowed down in the blankets. "Not really."

"I'm the one who hasn't been taking good enough care of both of us. I promise that's going to change when I get home. I need it to, and you deserve it."

Your body shook slightly with a quiet sob, and you nodded. "My period is going to start soon."

"Okay," he said softly. "We're not worrying about that right now. But I wish I was home to plug in your heating pad and rub your feet." 

"Me, too. I love you." It felt so good to say it to him. His lips parted like he had something to say, then you saw him look to his right. 

"Right, absolutely," he said to someone off screen. "No problem."

When he was facing you again, you asked, "You have to go?" 

"I do," he confirmed with a frown. "But first, can you promise me a few things?"

"Yes."

"You'll make sure you're getting enough sleep and eating enough? And talking to someone if you feel like you're struggling?"

"I promise. And, Roo? If you call and I don't answer, it's because I couldn't, okay? I always want to hear from you."

He smiled and exhaled in visible relief. "I understand. I love you. See you in a few weeks."

------------------------------

Can we...can we breathe a little bit now? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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[illubean]

Request 4 you :-D alright I was wondering if you could do a drabble with a reader with a men ability that makes her similar to a banshe pls😣 (chrollo, illumi, kurapikachu, layoreo, and 🌹feitan🌹)

HXH W/ a Banshee!Reader

Characters: Kurapika Kurta, Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!Reader

alright i did some reading on banshees for this and obviously they have their scream right? but they also have clairaudience, precognition and supernatural detection! p cool if you ask me :D

Warnings: none??

Kurapika Kurta

every time you predict the death of a phantom troupe member he's like fuck yeah

if you work with him you mostly end up gathering info

like you can literally fly super fast, see vaguely into the future and have super cray hearing

i couldn't think of anything for this guy im so sorry...

Leorio Paladaknight

the first time he saw you hovering about he damn near shit his pants because he thought you were genuinely some type of ghost

knowing its just your nen doesn't make him any less scared since you can sense supernatural and paranormal activity...

sometimes you tell him you feel ghosts and whatnot around to fuck with him

he cries

he can't even rant about you to anyone because you WILL hear it

every time he mentions you he has to look around and make sure you're nowhere near him even if he knows you're cities away

sometimes you use your clairaudience to snitch on him LOLLL

he will mutter something under his breath and you'd be like "Leorio just said ____"

you probably told him Gon would die (he didn't actually but almost did) and he didn't believe you at first

bro was like do NOT joke about that and you're like I'm not joking and he's like FUCK

maybe you should stop playing pranks on him because now he finds everything you say hard to believe...

Illumi Zoldyck

you help him catch runners on missions LMAO

if he happens to keep you around you know all of the Zoldyck estate gossip because your clairaudience lets you hear everything that goes on in the mansion

every time you hear something new you and Illumi whisk away to some corner and chat quietly

no matter what you tell him he's surprisingly interested, he can and will gossip like a teenage girl

sometimes when he feels like a job is too much of a hassle he lets you handle it with your death scream thingy

he's not a lazy person but everyone has their moments

you are his personal little ghostlike assistant

Chrollo Lucilfer

yeah he's making you one of the supportive members of the troupe

he uses you to gather information with your heightened hearing and ability to predict the death of others

probably asks you if you can contact the dead

if you can then awesome, now you can answer a lot of his questions but if not then oh well

since you can fly pretty fast sometimes he has you snatch up people for questioning

he avoids using you for offensive purposes because your screams reach very far and could possibly accidentally kill him or the other troupe members

so when he does you're usually alone

you were able to sense that Uvo was going to die and also the exact moment he did

knowing his friend would die didn't make it any less painful for Chrollo tho :(

Feitan Portor

he thinks you're a valuable asset to the troupe

most of the time when it comes to catching people for torture and interrogation Chrollo sends you two

you guys are the perfect team for the job honestly, you can catch enemies quickly and also attack them from long distances while Feitan handles all the gross torture stuff

he probably carries ear plugs for this so yk..you don't accidentally kill him when you scream at the enemy

when you predicted Uvo would die after the first run in with the shadow beasts Feitan is like no way

then all of that shit happens yada yada yada then he goes to fight Kurapika and he actually dies

and Feitan was like fuck you were right

now he knows not to doubt your morbid intuition..

[lizzy019]

Is it wrong that I now kinda low-key am craving a Dally x ovulating reader now... Like... Sorry but your work is so good... Love you and ur writing!!

Thanks lovely! I try hard ❤️✨

~~~~~~~~~ 18+ ~~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~~ 18+ ~~~~~~~~~

Dally vaguely knew of what women had to go through monthly, but he didn't know a lot.

All he knew was that girls bled, nothing more. But when you informed him there was such a thing called "ovulating", he had to double take.

"Ovulating? The hell is that?" He asked as you drove down the streets of Tulsa, picking him up from a party he didn't want to be at.

"Ovulating is typically when a girl gets a bit overly horny for a week before their periods start. Some get it really strong, some get it really weak. I know I get mine really strong. " You chuckled, parking into your house's driveway and sighing as you unbuckled.

"So wait, lemme get this right," He started, stepping out of the car and blowing out a cloud of his excess smoke while following you. "Ovulating is like, a week of sex or something?"

You laughed as you unlocked your front door, nodding your head as you opened it and let him inside first. He shook his head, insisting he'd finish his smoke outside.

That was... oddly kind of him.

"Well, if you wanna think of it in a desperate way, yes. It's a week of sex." You teased him, watching him stomp out the cig that he deemed now useless and walking inside your home.

Dally scoffed at your crude insult, playfully shoving you as he marched to retrieve some food.

"So... are you ovulating?" He asked incredulously, his eyes narrowing a little as he purloined your fridge's insides.

With a hesitant expression, you nodded.

"Yes, I'm ovulating. I'm lucky it hasn't come to bite my ass and beg me to fuck someone." You chuckled, watching him eye the fridge and settle on snagging one of your parents' beer.

With help from the tiny tool found near the fridge, he popped the bottle open and took a swig before looking at you knowingly.

"So are you gonna give me a week of sex?" Dally asked, a sneaky smile gracing his pretty lips.

You barked a laugh, shaking your head out of disappointment and shrugging shortly after. You found yourself reaching for a beer as well, opening it albeit with some struggle until you could finally get some of the alcohol into your mouth.

"Do you want a week of sex, Dally? I don't think your balls could handle that." You chuckled, watching him set the beer bottle down and snagging yours as well.

It seems your words may have touched a nerve.

"You insultin' my balls? So what if I want sex? If I get some with you, I'll be graced with a bit of heaven. You wanna do it? You wanna try me?" He asked, his hot breath tickling your face as you smirked in response.

The little smile twitching at your lips was all the answer he needed. Soon enough, your pants were being pulled down, and his were being unbuttoned. Seriously though, in the kitchen?

You didn't complain. You were forced to have your back facing him and over the counter, but it was more comforting knowing he wouldn't see all the weird faces you could make.

Your panties were now riding just above your knees along with your pants, and Dally's fingers had worked their way into your tight little cunt. It had a soft, almost whispery moan flutter from your throat, and your hips bucked back into his hand.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, keep still," He hummed, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck and chuckling. "I gotta open you up, not make you feel good."

That sentence made you whine quietly in growing desperation, and you fought to deep your hips still no matter how much you wanted to crash them back into his hand for friction.

Soon enough, his fingers were removed from your pussy, and the sudden emptiness made you slouch a bit. But not to worry, Dally replaced his fingers with his cock. His leaky tip was pressed against your labia until it penetrated its way through, jabbing your cervix in a mean kiss.

It had the softest but sweetest moans tumbling from your mouth, and it was safe to say that Dally was getting off to how pliant and plush your cunt was.

"Oh! Dal- Dally, go faster, please!" You whined, reaching your hand to claw at his shoulder even if it was awkward in your position.

He did as you asked, pounding into just a bit faster. The new rhythm he set was really getting you off, and you truly didn't know how much longer you could last. But did you tell him? No. What's the point in doing that?

Your bodies were now swaying in tune with the pace he'd set, and slowly the cord in your stomach began to grow tight. Your pussy clamped down onto his cock like a vice, holding him as you found yourself climbing the steps of pure passion.

But did he take this as a sign to slow down?

...No.

Dally's thrusts grew more sporadic, less calculated and more set on getting you both to that desired place known as heaven on Earth. It was amazing, really. Your poor cunt just sucking him in and dripping liquid arousal into your panties that rested so calmly just above your knees.

It didn't take long until the cord in your lower belly snapped, and your pussy clenched just hard enough to get Dally to cum too. It was messy, yes. But it felt so heavenly that you were sure no amount of mess could ever take away from how the moment felt.

It was all huffs and puffs afterward, heaving for air and sighing it out until you were both calm enough to speak.

"I get a whole week of this? Goddamn, forget my hand." He smiled, pressing a sweet kiss to your jaw and moving your sweated hair from your face.

"Shut up, you're cleaning the mess." You chided playfully, accepting his little kiss wholeheartedly as you wobbled to clean yourself up.

It was safe to say that Dally was now fully educated on the subject.

[vampcubus]

Hi, I really like your writing (especially your Rengoku headcanons.) Also, your page looks so aesthetically pleasing, I think it's really cool.

Can I request some headcanons for Tokoyami with a s/o who's love language is biting? (It can be fluff or smut or both, it's your choice)

If you don't want to write this, that's okay too, have a nice day!

sure can! and thank you sm for the compliments, got me blushin’ n shit 😳 i also decided to tack on more characters for this prompt!

𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : fumikage, izuku, katsuki, and eijirou.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : vaguely nsfw, projecting my biting kink onto all these men tbh.

𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈

— Fumikage’s probably the most startled by your love bites for sure. He’s still getting used to your kisses, so you can bet he’s jumping a mile into the air when he feels you sneak a nip to his shoulder. He’s so flustered, beak tipped down to his chest in embarrassment. What was that for? Were you teasing him? An intrusive thought perhaps?

— When you explain it to him, it endears him to you even more. You were biting him because it’s how you expressed your love? He wished he’d known sooner.

— He definitely writes romanticized poetry about how your teeth feel on his skin. 

— Knaw on him all you like, he’s yours to chew on as you see fit — so long as you promise to kiss the bites you leave afterward.

— Poor guy gets teased endlessly for the bite marks he’s got all over, somehow them being inherently non-sexual makes it worse. He feels dirty when his friends make unsavory jokes about them, but it’s not like he’s going to tell you that you can’t sink your teeth in just because he’s embarrassed.

— He notices that you tend to do it even more when you’re excited about something, nicks of your teeth interspersed with your enthusiastic smooching. 

— He should have expected your habit to emerge in the bedroom, yet it still incites a shaky gasp when you sink your teeth into his neck and shoulder as you take him inside you. 

— Don’t tell anyone but he likes the pain, particularly when it mixes with the pleasure of you claiming him.

— He traces your bite marks when he’s thinking of you <3

𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀

— There’s nothing cuter than the pitched gasp he makes when your teeth nip at his ear for the first time. At first, he thinks you just wanted to mess with him so he pouts, rubbing at the red mark you left behind. 

“That hurt you know…” he huffs, bottom lip sticking out.

— That is until he realizes that you’re doing it mindlessly like you weren’t giving it a second thought. 

— When your lips press a kiss to his shoulder in passing, he’s conditioned to tense up in case you decide to take a bite out of him on a whim.

— It’s not an unpleasant feeling, but he has a habit of being vocal about his approval. The last thing he wants is for you to sneak a bite when he isn’t expecting it and he moans out loud when other people are around.

— in short, he likes it. a lot.

— He’s your personal chew toy as far as he’s concerned. Still, his curiosity compels him to ask you about it.

“So I’ve noticed that you uh… bite me a lot? Is that like… a conscious thing or…?” he inquires one day, and the way your face practically bursts into flames should be enough of an answer on its own.

“Gosh I’m so sorry if that’s weird—“ you blubber, fanning your burning cheeks as he watches in fascination. You’re so cute when you get flustered like that, he muses.

“No, I like it!” He states a little too loudly and then rushes to amend his enthusiasm, stumbling over his words as his own furious blush flares up. He was outing himself. “N-not in a weird way or anything. I just think it’s cute!” 

— And when he makes the connection of you biting him = loving him, he’s over the moon about it.

— Has a thing for being marked as yours, so your habit goes hand in hand with that desire. 

— Sink your teeth in until his skin dots with blood, he doesn’t care, cus no amount of pain could take away from the dizzying pleasure he feels at that moment.

— Encourages you to bite him harder <333 he's no weakling, you know you can be rougher with him, don't you?

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔

— As expected, he is less than understanding about it the first time you leap into his back and chomp his shoulder.

 “HUH?! THE HELL DID YOU BITE ME FOR?!”

— Calls you a freak 😔 honestly he can be so mean </3 

— However, this can be amended by confessing that your compulsion to bite him was a sign of love. Watch his cheeks get all red, hand covering his face as he leans away from your scrutinizing gaze — because you’ve flustered him. 

“Yeah, okay I get it! you do it cus you like me or whatever but it hurts you know. Can’t just do it out of nowhere…” he grumbles, avoiding your sparkling eyes. Because that sounded like a stamp of approval to you.

— He’ll fuss most times you do it, but only before guiding your teeth to the place he wants them. Cus if you’re gonna bite him you might as well go for the throat where he likes it.

— Can’t help that his cock throbs whenever your breath grazes his jugular, anticipating the sting of your teeth pulling the tender skin between them.

— Going in for an affectionate chomp in other places just gets you an annoyed hand shoving your face away — especially if you’re around other people. It’s almost pitiful how your face drops when he does as if he’s the bad guy. What a joke!

“C’mon, don’t give me that look. You can chew on me later.”

— He’s all too aware that you do it to distract him, so he won’t always tolerate it if he’s genuinely busy. 

“I know you’re just tryna distract me. You aren’t slick, you little shit.” he’ll hiss, though the truth is he just doesn’t wanna work with a boner.

— If you bite someone else he is IMMENSELY jealous. Those teeth are only for him dammit. And that realization just makes him even more embarrassed, because fuck you’ve infected him with your weirdness. He wasn’t supposed to like it too!

— He bites back in retaliation so watch out!

𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀

— He’s a tough guy, and obsessed with you, so chances are he’s not going to bat an eye if you wanna take a lil chomp every now and then. In his mind, you must think he looks tasty enough to eat, and he’ll take that as a compliment thank-you!

— That said, he does notice, and that you only do it to him specifically. His heart squeezes at that. I’m special. I’m special to them. Playing in his head in an endless loop as he stares at you with that lovesick puppy look.

— Eijirou wants to reciprocate but with teeth like his, he’d be too nervous about breaking the skin. That longing being there means something.

— He knows to pay attention to you when you nip him, lest he’d like to see how much harder you can bite. And he really didn’t wanna have to explain to Katsuki why he’s got an angry red bite mark at the base of his neck. (Truthfully Katsuki would notice but not say anything about it, equating it to his best friend getting mad pussy, which he is already plenty jealous of.)

— In a perfect world Eijirou would sit with you in his lap while you sucked dark marks into the flesh of his throat all day long.

— The more chomps you take out of him the more he desires to return the favor, imagining what your reaction would be. Would you like it? Would you let him do it again? Do you even realize you do it? Those questions bubble anxiously inside until he musters up the courage to ask.

“Hey uh, would it be totally weird if I bit you?” he slides it so casually into the conversation you almost miss it. But he can tell he’s piqued your curiosity when your eyes dart from the tv to his own, side-eying him but not fully acknowledging the question. “Like… how you love nip me sometimes — which is very cute by the way — I wanna do the same to you.”

“I don’t ask before biting you, why should you? Just bite me next time, K? It would be totally hot but you’ve ruined the element of surprise, you see?” You return to your dead-eyed stare at the tv, munching away at your snack as if nothing happened.

He stares dumbly at you for a moment before he processes that as both acceptance and a challenge.

“Right!” 

[4pfsukuna]

Awkward (N. Kento)

Theres just not enough fics of Nanami with black women outside of just smut..so here i am with smut but theres plot based on sza songs Awkward 

Time passing.

Nanami still has no idea how Gojo convinced him to attend his silly little holiday party. Knowing Gojo it would be loud, eccentric and lots of alcohol involved. Plus the fact that Gojo knew everybody and it looks like he’s invited everyone Nanami was ready to leave.

But Gojo made him promise to have one drink…just one. Plus he made some know it all comments about Nanami being a workaholic who was probably just going to go home look at stuff for work and do even more overtime spending the holidays alone. He always ragged on him about extra work but the alone part cut deep this time because it reminded him of his ex girlfriend the one he almost proposed to on the night of their anniversary, ring in pocket but he ended up getting stuck with over time, losing track of time and leaving her to sit alone at the restaurant for 2 hours. 

What was suppose to be a happy night was anything but and by 12:01am he was single. Bringing his cup to his lips he’s ready to take a sip but stops when he hears a laugh he’ll never forget.

The last thing Nanami kento expected to see at Gojo’s party (that he basically tricked him into going to) was his ex girl from 4 years ago in a black mini silk dress that if you just bent over a tad bit more—

“You alright man?” Gojo ask slapping his blonde hair friends back snapping him back to the reality where his cup of alcohol had been crushed completely in his hand.

He was sure of Two things in this moment. 1. His hand was wet and 2? He wasnt letting you get away again.

“Oh let me introduce you to my friend Miyoshi, shes an interior designer. Designed all my homes boring career so you two might actually have something in common since you like boring stuff” Gojo insults while placing a napkin in his friends hand basically dragging him over to the woman through the crowd.

What? This was not at all how he planned on talking to you, what was he suppose to say? Would you even acknowledge him? Your curly fro had been straightened so it was now mid back with a slight red tint and he vaguely remember you saying a girl dyes her hair red when she’s over a man and there’s no chance for him ever again. Oh god you hated him. Was the room always this hot?

You turn around finally setting your eyes on the two of them and downing whatever was left in your cup. 

“Miyoshi, meet my friend Nanami kento. Kento this is Miyoshi” Gojo introduces and the air becomes thick with tension as you two awkwardly smile at another Nanami unable to keep your gaze on him.

Time passing by.

“Yosh” Nanami breaks the silence at the same time she speaks “nami”. Old habits die hard, the nicknames from another pouring from their lips shocking Gojo.

“You two know each other?” The white hair man ask which only confuses him more when you say no but he says yes.

He goes to ask the question neither of you wanted to answer but luckily is stopped by hearing the pur of his name from Geto who he waste no time following forgetting all about you two. 

“Can i get you another drink? Im sorry about Gojo and bombarding you like that” Nanami ask nodding at your cup watching as you exhale glossed lips forming your usual slight pout.

You nod as he leads you by the small of your back to the bar his hand burning a imprint on your lower back and you're grateful when he moves it to toss the napkin in his other hand away.

“Strawberry Lemon drop and a whiskey on the rocks” he tells the bartender before quickly looking over at you dropping apologies.

“Sorry you probably dont even like that anymore, i shouldnt have assumed! Ill—“ he starts ranting only for you to laugh, placing a hand on his forearm sitting on the stool.

“Still as charming as ever, its still my favorite drink” you smile the nerves leaving your body but filling his to the brim. Why was he so nervous? Of course his stoic poker face never dropped once but that was how he was.

“Its nothing, just wanna make sure you’re taken care of” he speaks so easily before you could respond or even react The drinks are quickly placed in front of you.

You wanted to know what the hype was all about

“So how have you been?” He ask downing half of his drink in one gulp. You follow suit licking the sugar off the rim unaware of how his eyes watch  and his grip tightens slightly on his glass.

“Are we really going to play this game kento? Fine. Ive been traveling exploring growing healing i finally quit the company and started my own business finding rich men like Gojo who have more money than they know what to do with and creating clients out of them” you shrug sipping the drink watching him smile… somewhat proud.

“Congratulations. Sorry if im prying—“ Nanami finishes his drink only for you to cut him off.

“No!” You say a bit louder than expected before clearing your throat. “No i… i just dont understand how you can sit here like everything ended— like nothing happened and were just old friends catching up” you ask confused, of course you wanted to talk to him 3 and ½ years with someone over in one night and now 4 years later here both of you are.

The nerves were back.

Then we fucked a little bit and I was out, Did not say bye

“Kento i broke up with you, fucked you one last time for my own closure and ghosted you in the middle of the night with no way of ever contacting me. Not my best moment” you finally speak on the elephant in the room another round of drink places infront of you two.

“Compliments of master satorou” the bartender nods before attending to other guest leaving no time to protest.

“I wouldve atleast like to remain friends but i understand.  You left with a bang… quite literally” he jokes trying to ease the tension showing off that jokester part of him that only youve seen.

And now for the word vomit , you couldn’t even stop it if you wanted.

“Friends? Our love was different…too strong for that. It was worth it,I would do it again.I know you hurt me,This is more than a friendship” you speak running over your finger your rim collecting sugar along the sides of your fresh acrylic nails. 

When you don’t hear anything from him (honestly what are you expecting? You just admitted you loved him so much youd go through the heartbreak a second time just to experience that love again) you look up watching as he loosens his tie.

Fuck. “Sorry”

“I made it awkward” which he chuckles at taking your jaw in his large hand forcing your eyes to look up at him. Your heart racing in your chest at the familiar contact

“I miss you”he finally slips the stoic façade falling all his emotions on display for you to see and suddenly the room feels 10 degrees hotter.

“I— why did you let me do it?” You ask and for a simple sentence it was so loaded. You can tell by the way the tips of his ears burn red.

“This isnt the place for that conversation” he speaks finally letting go of your chin turning back towards his drink and you exhale he was right. The awkward tension was back and you despised it.

“My home is 10 minutes away… we can really talk there if youd like” he suggest looking over his watch and i glance around at the party in full swing before back at him.

“Yeah”

When you two make it to his home you cant help the nostalgic grin. This was completely him, nothing out of place every color scheme matches because its all shades of white creme or beige. Everything looks super clean and super expensive.

“Would you like anything to drink? Or eat?” He ask heading to the kitchen after placing your coats on the rack.

“Wine… although ive probably drunk enough” you giggle taking a seat on the couch and he follows with two wine glasses and the bottle. But Nanami always had the best wine and knew the best pairings.

Downing the first cup you lick your lips until you feel his fingers brushing down hair with the rest. When you look over at him hes already stairing at you… admiring and its pure love. Everything starts to feel surreal and you really remember the last time you were with him— alone.

Can we still love on each other?

“Do you still love me?” You ask curiously before you have time to even realize what youre saying and he doesnt even look phased.

“Did you ever stop?” He questions looking at you over his wine glass setting it back on the coffee table next to the bottle looking away to hide the look in his eyes. Sighing you rest your cup next to his, lip gloss staining the glass.

Can we still touch on eachother.

Reaching up to play with his tie being unkept from him fiddling with it you only loosen it further unbuttoning the top 3 buttons just like you did when you two were still— fuck.  

You freeze but that doesnt discourage him feeling the coolness of your hands through the shirt bringing his full attention to you and youve completely taken over all of his senses. 

Can we still not judge  each other?

You still never answered the question just focused on his tie and froze. He curses at himself.

I make it awkward.

“I…im still inlove with you kento, never stopped” you finally say looking up at him glossy eyes and thats all he needs leaning forward placing his lips on yours the taste of alcohol and cherry lip gloss makes him melt. He kisses you delicately, scared to scare you off and even if you regret it the taste of your lips one last time would get him through a lifetime of over time.

Its when you sigh and pull his bottom lip in between your teeth is when he decides he needs you and he needs your weight on him. Pulling you so youre straddling his lap his hands slowly roaming your body still scared of sudden movements scaring you and wanting to map out every curve of your body missing the way you felt. Getting so lost in your brown skin he almost looses his thought. The one thing he promised hed tell you if he ever seen you again.

I can not love everybody

And hes confessing like a sinner in church or a man on judgement day because you are everything holy and he was ready to admit. 

“I could never be with anybody after you, no woman is you”

But you isn't anybody

“You took my heart with you when you left and only left a tiny piece left. And with that tiny piece all i could do is think about how much im in love with you. Want to be with you forever just us two” he breathes looking you dead in your eye so you know hes serious. Serious about you. Serious about this. Serious about yall.

You look at me different

You couldnt help but to see a different side of him. And not just the jokester side you seen earlier but a more mature Nanami Kento, a more considerate and loving Nanami kento. His lover boy era perhaps?! The heat pools inbetween your legs more than it had been all night as you two keep eye contact.

So I let you see my body

Pulling your dress over your head revealing the black lace matching panties and bra set he adjust in the seat.

“Proove it”

Body, body, body

“Youre going to be the absolute death of me, im sure of it” he admits his lips going to your neck trailing down the valley of your breast hands groping and squeezing them. His tongue licks over your cloth covered nipple pinching the other one causing a slight moan. Grabbing your hands to place on his shirt the signal to keep unbuttoning his hands go to your cheeks cupping as he begins kissing you harder tongue infiltrating your mouth.

And now we don't speak at all Now I regret it all

4 years without this? How could you? You were still absolutely positively madly in love with him. Missing him so much your lips dont disconnect at all even when he stands to walk toward his bedroom your fingers running through his hair at the nape of his neck pulling a soft moan from him. You don’t register the movement until your back is being layed in the softness of his bed.

Still, it was worth it

I would do it again

His lips trail down the valley of your breast again making sure to savor the taste of your brown skin before his tongue swirls over your brown nipple listening to your soft pants. He switches over to the other one, your lace bra being unhooked in the front by his mouth… he always did have a talented mouth.  

His lips continue their assault until they reach your panties kissing your lips through the lace earning a shiver before his teeth are pulling your underwear off and damn what a sight.

You can feel him breathing over your core making you nervous wanting to close your legs unaware of the way hes using his photographic memory to remember how gorgeous you look right now.

“Ken— mmph” his tongue glides against your folds with ease and your sure hes thought about this often because the way his tongue is delicated over every spot that makes you tingle is driving you insane. 

“Missed the way you taste sweetheart” he indulges using his first two fingers to open up your slick folds giving him access to what he really wants. His tongue swirls around once, twice, three times before fully latching onto your clit pulling a loud whine from you. 

Music to his ears he wants to make you do it again, show you hes sorry, beg for another chance fuck he was on his knees face burried into your dripping cunt and nothing outside of the two of you mattered right now. Using those two fingers he presses into your core moaning as you squeeze your legs around his head the need to cum building up when he twist his fingers with a delicious curl.

“K-kento i… im fuck” you begin writhing under his mouth hands gripping at the sheets as he keeps a slow sensual pace making sure you feel the apology. But hes a selfish man, he thinks, because the minute you cum hes lapping up every drop yet still wont give you a second to recover. You deserved it.

His tongue replaces his fingers, fucking you as his thumb swirls around your clit watching every face of exstacy you make, the way the lights from the city shine through the room bouncing off the soft brown of your skin. 

He just wants one more only one and when your hands tangle in his blonde hair holding him in place forcing him to watch you fall apart on his tongue his dick twitches in his boxers precum spilling from the tip.

“NANAMI” you shout the highest pitch hes ever heard your voice before orgasming on his lips his movements never stopping as he pushes you into your third one of the night, he needed your taste engraved in his brain… and tongue. The sounds of your heavy breaths grabs his attention and he grins watching the heat of the room make your hair curl back up with a slight friz. Just the way he loved it.

Though hes shocked when you lurch forward pulling him by his cheeks to place an open mouth his tongue swirling around his mouth tasting yourself and a hint of alcohol.

Hes nervous when you pull back, afraid you may regret it and be ready to walk out until your trembling fingers push his unbuttoned shirt off over the planes of his muscles taking your time feeling them even when his shirt falls to the floor. 

Next is his belt buckle and he feels like hes shaking from anticipation watching you do this. He cant help himself and leans back in for another kiss your lipgloss long gone. Sliding everything off in one push your eyes widen at his length thats dripping precum in a way youve never seen before that makes you lick your lips wanting to get every drop but he leans forward pulling your chin up to him.

“Maybe later love,” and the nickname hurts. He always called you that after being away on a long business trip or extremely long nights at work when he strolled in after midnight.

He grabs his thick length pumping a few times before lining it up with your core and the air is thick again. With anticipation…

Longing…

Need…

Unspoken apologies…

I know you hurt me, but

But this is deeper than friendship now

Nodding giving him the okay he slides in making you  gasp and he captures your lips in a groan the burn of him stretching you out as his dick slides in is welcomed. Its like your walls were made just for him. Though you dont expect the string of apologies he begins letting out and tears prick your eyes as you pull him close one hand on his spine the other tangled in his hair.

Let's keep it awkward

He doesnt move for a second and you understand the hesitation. You knew what this meant. He just needed a little motivation.

I think we're ready for it, yeah, mmh

Squeezing you core he groans sending a sharp thrust into you burrying his face in your shoulder. He slowly pulls back just to the tip sliding back in with the same sharp thrust releasing a grunt before picking up your thigh pressing it against your chest. The gasp leaves your mouth as you struggle to think straight nails digging into his back pulling him closer. It seems your claws in his back does nothing but turn him on more.

His lips begin kissing down your neck sucking and leaving a trail of hickeys because even if he couldnt have you past tonight he would leave his mark and let it be known you were his until they stop on your breast. His tongue laps at your perky nipples sucking until he pulls a delicious moan from you and your hands find his hair again. He loved when you pulled it and kept it long enough for you to get a grip but short enough so it wasnt always in his eyes.

“K-kento” you stutter breathlessly your legs shaking as the first orgasm from his dick rips through you yet he shows no signs of stopping or slowing down. Just keeps fucking you through it.

Well this was a different level of deepness.

“Fuck i love you” he grunts again with slow powerful strokes making sure his pelvis hits yours every time as his hands trace the outline of your body squeezing whereever he can. His lips meet yours once more in a sloppy kiss as he drops more weight on you to keep you in place. The only sounds are a combination of your moans and the wet slapping sounds. A particular thrust of his hips makes you feel like he’s digging you out and your back arches off the bed only for his body to press into you.

“Fuck, tell me how good it feels sweetheart” he practically begs but youre still trying to catch your breath from the first orgasm making him release your nipple and come back to your shoulder peppering it with kisses. “Tell me how much you missed this…us” he adds before snaking a arm down between the both of you and finding your clit.

“N-nan… shit… nami” your words are broken and you cant even keep your eyes focused on one spot and he grins into your neck at his name rolling off your tongue acknowledging where the nickname from earlier came from. His thumb goes at a sensualy slow place but the pressure hes applying has your legs locking up behind his back and he delivers the final blow.

Pulling your chin down to find your eyes and he smiles wholesomely with a wicked glint in his eyes making you give him complete eye contact unable to move. 

“Cum with me” he begs and demands all at once his thrust a bit sporadic and loosing rhythym as the speed on your clit pics up as well the coil building in you before finally snapping and your gushing all over him as ropes of his load shoot into you consequences be damned. He collapses next to you pulling your body ontop of his chest rapidly rising and falling. You two are silent, a comfortable one before he extends his arm rumaging in the drawer next to his bed and you close your eyes fighting the sleep. 

You open your eyes once more when you feel him wrapping a scarf around your hair that had completely curled back up due to the heat and sweat from your bodies. Your only response is to  smile and place a kiss on his chest which he chuckles at and places a kiss on your forehead tracing his fingers up and  down your spine

Let's keep it awkward

Waking up to the sound of the keyboard you yawn rubbing your eyes to see a glass of water and 2 tylenol on the night stand infront of you. The realization dawns on you of where your at but how could you forget you knew that scent of detergent, the cozyness of the sheets and the fact that this was your side of the bed because the vent was next to it meaning youd be getting all the heat first… this was your ex boyfriend Nanami kentos bedroom and you were completely naked except for the pale blue sheet covering your lower half.

It may seem silly but the sound of the keyboard brought tears to your eyes, all the hard work you did on healing. No amount of sza, jhene aiko nor beyonces lemonade album would get you through this one because you knew what it was and allowed it. Nanami was a workaholic— the exact reason for your split. Dates postponed with no exact date, romantic evenings cut short, sleeping alone for several nights as the computer held his attention… What hurt the most was being stood up on your anniversary.  

Slowly rising up you rub your eyes and begin looking for you clothes ready to make your great escape.

“Good morning sweetheart howd you sleep?” He ask the audacity to even call you sweetheart as if everything was back to when you two were still in a relationship makes your heart clench with pain. When you don’t respond the sound of the keyboard stops and you feel the bed shift flinching before he can touch you.

“No i know that look youre going to run, just like last time” he speaks in such a timbre that steals your breath knowing your causing him pain. “If all you wanted was a quick fuck you—“ he begins to say and you scoff finally looking at him eyes set ablaze.

“How fucking dare you?! Thats all i was to you Kento! A quick fuck to burn through your stress and then right back to your silly little papers and projects and work. You were always drowning yourself in work so deep that i had to convince myself you actually didnt hate me! All you do is work and when youre not working youre picking up overtime. You placed your job over me countless times! The only time you thought about me was to reschedule what we had planned…. 14 date nights and a anniversary kento! FOURTEEN!” You finally yell feeling a weight lift off your shoulders at the speach you rehearsed 3 dozen times in the mirror.

His shoulder slump as his lips form a line looking for the right words to say. What could he say he was over the moon waking up next to you in bed and now he felt disgusted with himself. Nothing was worse than the regret on your face.

You begin looking for your clothes again and that sets him into action he shuffles off the bed pulling you into his arms your head against his chest his heartbeat racing.

“Im sorry” released the flood gate of tears youd been holding back as if he knew he holds you tighter and sighs.

“Im sorry for neglecting you, im sorry for not putting you on the pedestal you deserve to be on, im sorry for anytime ive ever made you question my love for you, im sorry for all the dissapointments and most of all im sorry for waiting this long. Im an idiot and every day without you was hell i thought what i would do differently if i had the chance once more and i—“ he stops sitting down on the bed so he could pull your eyes to his covered by his thick framed glasses.

“Karma is beating my ass with cursed energy because for every day we werent together all i could think about was every time i canceled and how i wish i could just have 1 night, id make it all right” he confesses with wide eyes wiping your tears away with his thumbs. 

Your eyes flicker to his laptop and he follows before showing me the screen and there’s about 6 tabs open. His email, flights, hotels, car rentals and clothing stores.

I know I'm ready for it, you feel me?

“I was telling my boss im taking the next month off 14 dates is alot of time sweetheart… 14 too many and i know. We always talking about escaping to malaysia, trying all the foods, shopping breakfast on the beach and dancing under the moonlight until 2am. Everything’s booked and i know youd need time to pack and get your hair done i already messaged your hairstylist who can see you in 4 hours hopefully after we’ve had breakfast and agreed to the trip” he pleads with hopeful eyes revealing his hand to show you, not just tell you how apologetic he was but to show you.

Your heart begins racing, palms sweaty and damn did this man have you weak in the knees! He was doing everything right, saying everything right and he looked so fine the way his boxers hugged his muscular frame and okay maybe a man with a plan turned you on anybody could say words but to put action behind it… And like this? Oh baby he really thought about it, kinda like you factory reset him.

“Heres my card pay for whatever you need and a key… to my place” you never really heard him stumble over his words before until now and his nervousness is showing in a boyish way youd never seen before who wouldve thought stone wall one expression Nanami kento here stumbling over you? “So what do you say?”

Can we still love on each other?

Can we still touch on each other?

Can we still not judge each other?

So… what do you say?

[xinamie]

🥟 — dumplings & dimples.

pairing: kung lao x gn! reader

summary: owning a food cart has its fun days, especially when that cute customer comes by. ♡

tags: flirting, fluff

The dumpling dealer — that's what younger customers called you. Apparently, they even spread that title amongst their peers which is why you had swarms of them waiting in line almost every other day. Xiao long bao, or soup dumplings, were the most popular! There was no secret recipe or ingredient though, you just made them with time, patience, and lots of care.

Someone seemed to disagree, however, wanting to know all your secrets. You could see the wide brim of his hat at the end of the line, most likely praying to that one benevolent lord he talked about. There was nothing to worry for as you always kept his favorite dumplings in stock. It was tradition at this point.

When he finally reached you, a grin stretched across his face as he ducked his head under the cover of your cart. His eyes immediately darted across all the steamer baskets before they settled on you, the corners crinkling in glee.

"Well, if it isn't my baobei..." He would joke every single time, the term of endearment being a play on words for the items on your menu. And without fail, he would receive an eye roll followed by that smile he grew to adore so very much.

No other words were necessary as you packed up his usual order, but of course it wasn't quiet for long.

"Don't forget the extra ch—"

"Chili oil on the side, yes, I know."

His lips curled into a satisfied expression as you poured the delicious spice into a little bag. As you twisted the plastic to secure the juice, Kung Lao couldn't help but speak up again. One of his arms leaned onto your cart, though he kept a respectable distance while you worked.

"Ready to spill your secret? Madam Bo said you told her, so why not me?"

There really was nothing special about your cooking, but the man could be pretty adamant at times. For him to keep coming to this same stall, there had to be a reason why and you just assumed it was for recipe leeching. At least, that's what he made it seem on most visits. Handing him his prepared meal, you shot him a look that he was familiar with.

"Fine, how about a date then?"

That was— certainly new. He held the bags with one hand while the other placed more than enough funds to cover his order into your money jar. A steaming hot bao was already in his mouth as he raised a brow, waiting for your answer.

"You're joking, right?"

A muffled noise escaped him, vaguely hearing a nuh uh in the middle of his snack. He then swallowed the dumpling properly, leaning forward to tap the tip of his finger against the visor you wore for food safety. A huff escaped you as you leaned back, trying to understand his motives here. All you received was a chuckle, the low tone rumbling from his chest and feeling as if it entered yours.

"Your time wouldn't be wasted, you know. Give me a chance." His words were buffed by his own secret weapon, those damned dimples, on full display just for you. It was one of his features that had always attracted you and by the look on his smug face, he knew it too.

A much more boisterous laugh came out of the man as he swiveled around, waving a dumpling in the air.

"The main fountains, tomorrow evening. Say... seven? See you then!"

He left without confirmation, a heavy sigh parting your lips as you watched his back. There wasn't much time to think about it as more customers demanded your attention.

If anyone asked, it was all the steam and pan frying that got you all heated!

☆

a/n: omfg i thought tumblr deleted my draft and i almost cried but hiii first fic! sorry if it's lame jfjeirkekdb

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hey, its Ominoose, your all time biggest fan here. Blue time.

You're a patient at the hospital, his favourite, he's always possessive. A new guy joins the staff and tries it with you, either flirting or getting handsy. Blue finds out, gets possessive. Maybe coddles you a bit ?? Idk, just... Blue <3

Orderly!Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info •

A/N: Firstly @ominoose you are far too kind, secondly I'm sorry this took so long, thirdly I’m so sorry Blue is fucking insane in this. 

He’s jealous! He’s whiney! He's a warning in himself!

Warnings: overuse of italics, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, there's some power dynamics in here because reader is a patient, swearing, also I haven't proof read this correctly because I just can't look at it any longer, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2079

________________________________

“It’s time to go in.” Timothy’s voice made you jump. He was pretty nice, for an orderly. He’d only started two weeks ago and already he had half of the patients swooning and making heart eyes at him. Just over the fact that he seemed vaguely kind, and not the sort of person that would push someone under a bus for the fun of it. 

“Oh,” you closed your book, lightly bending the corner to mark your page. They didn’t let you have bookmarks in here, ‘weapons’ apparently. Though how you could do more damage than a paper cut was beyond you. 

“Sorry.” You mumble as you get up from your spot under the tree, you hadn’t heard the pips which normally alerted you to the end of outside time. 

Timothy smiles and shakes his head. “It’s okay, no problem, I could see you were absorbed in your book.” His expression is soft, caring. “Is it good?” 

You nod, eyeing him with a little uncertainty. 

“It’s nice to see patients reading, I think it’s really calming, you know?” He smiles again, tilting his head to the side and taking a fraction of a step closer. “I’ll take you in,” he places his hand on your bicep gently, just to guide you towards the door. All the other patients have gone inside already. 

“I see you reading a lot, you must like it huh?” He says good-naturedly.

“There’s not a lot else to do.” You say softly when he looks to you for an answer.

Timothy laughs kindly, “Well, that and getting better I guess?”

“Hmm.” While he seemed harmless enough, you knew from experience that it was always better to err on the side of caution with orderlies, especially new ones. And even more so with ones that seemed friendly. 

He pauses, haunting your movements with the hand on your arm. “You know, you should smile a bit.” 

Ah. There it was.

You frown.

“I mean,” he blushes a little and runs his free hand through his hair. “Not like that, do what you want, of course. I just heard that smiling releases happy chemicals you know? Makes you feel happy even if you’re just doing the expression.”

Oh.

You look at him carefully, scrutinising for any malice and find none. You smile a little and nod. Maybe he’s-

“McCarthy!” Blue bellows from across the courtyard, his voice snapping against you like a whip. 

Timothy visually jumps at the sound of his last name, turning quickly, but not letting go of your arm. Blue marches over. His eyes seem brighter than usual, gleaming with a mad, impulsive energy that rolls off him in waves.

Timothy audibly gulps as Blue stops in front of him. 

Blue smiles, all teeth like a chimp bearing a warning. “What are you doing?” He says calmly.

“I, I was just taking them inside.”

Blue doesn’t even look at you. “Why?” 

“It’s, erm, it’s time to go in?” He shifts a little nervously. 

Blue leans a fraction closer, dropping his voice dangerously low. “Is it?”

Timothy gulps and nods, wide-eyed. 

“Take your fucking hand off their arm.” He growls.

Timothy lets go of you as if he’s been burnt, stepping back, holding his hands up in apology. 

Blue clenches his jaw, his shoulders pulled back and begins to stalk forward, closing the gap and removing the slither of space Timothy tried to place between them. 

“Blue,” you whisper, low and soft, as you brush against his forearm with your little finger. 

His attention snaps to you instantly, the tension leaking out of his expression. 

“It’s okay.” You nod at him, keeping your voice that same gentle quiet tone. 

He grabs hold of your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles before looking back to Timothy and giving him a glare that could have easily stripped flesh from bone. “Get back to your post.”

Timothy didn’t have to be told twice. 

He scampered back, rushing through the door and not even giving either of you a glance over his shoulder. 

You squeeze Blue’s hand back. “You’re not going to have any more new staff if you keep terrifying them like that.” 

He doesn’t listen to you, his muscles tense as he lightly traces the place where Timothy’s hand had been. “Why was he touching you?” 

“He was taking me back inside.” 

“And you let him?” He glances up at you with dangerous eyes.

You nod. In your heart of hearts you know he understands why you couldn’t refuse.

His grip on your arm tightens ever so slightly. “Why?” 

“Would you rather I had, and been put in solitary?” 

His expression softens again and he shakes his head ever so slightly. “He wouldn’t have dared.” He whispers, so quiet you can barely make out the words.

Suddenly he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer and pulling up the sleeve of your t-shirt so he can get to your skin. 

You yelp in surprise as he bites your arm, sinking his teeth into the spot where Timothy's hand had rested moments previously, before he soothes the spot with his tongue. Instantly you flinch back, but he holds you firm as he sucks a hasty love bite into your skin. 

His chin is a mess with salvia when he pulls back, his fingers digging into you. 

You barely get a chance to open your mouth, to intake a quick gulp of air before he’s yanking you towards him, snaking his hand to the back of your neck and forcing his mouth onto yours.

Despite the frenzied heat, the kisses are soft, careful as he slides his tongue into your mouth and presses his body flush against yours. He whimpers a little as you kiss him back, nipping a little at your bottom lip and pressing his warm palm against your lower back so that you have nowhere to escape to as he grinds his half-hard cock between your legs. 

It takes him a moment longer than you thought it would for him to stop, pull back a fraction, breathing hard. For a second you think he’s remembered himself, remembered that you’re both in the middle of the grounds with the asylum's large windows looking down on both of you. But the glazed look in his eyes tells you that he doesn’t care. 

“Don’t want him to touch you,” he mutters, tracing his fingers along your jawline. 

“I know Blue.” You say soothingly. 

“Don’t want anyone to touch you.” He kisses you again, three light, quick pecks to your lips. “Other people… they’re not careful. They don’t understand how to take care… they break things.” He shakes his head. “They’re not allowed to break my things.” 

You lean a little closer, closing your eyes and rubbing your nose against his. “I know Blue.” 

His kiss is harder this time, his fingers a touch too firm as he squeezes your jaw and holds you in place. 

You don’t mind though, don’t care as you feel his fingers twitch, his grip relaxing as you lick into his mouth. 

He pulls back a fraction, his warm breath hitting your cheeks. “Need to make you cum.” He mutters into your mouth, not giving you even a second to respond before he turns and marches back, further away from the asylum doors and pulling you along with him. 

“Blue!” Your book slips out of your hands and you practically have to jog as he yanks on your arm, moving with a frenzied energy to the large, old oak tree you were sat underneath moments before. 

He pulls you around so that you’re hidden from the asylum’s windows and pushes you up against the bark. 

“My book-”

“I’ll get it in a sec’ baby,” he murmurs, his voice almost slurred as he gazes over your body, taking every detail in before he drops to his knees. 

“I don’t think-”

“You don’t have to think.” He bites softly at your hip as he hurriedly pulls down your trousers and panties, yanking them off your right leg and not bothering to completely remove them from your left. “Just be good.” He mutters, his mouth thick with salvia. His fingers dig into your skin as he grabs hold of your right thigh and hoists it over his shoulder. Not even pausing before his mouth is on you. 

Your breath leaves your lips as a whine as he licks, broad, fat swipes of his tongue through your folds and up to circle and tease your clit. 

“Blue,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his shoulders so support as he repeats the action over and over again, digging his fingers into your thighs and urging you to buck into his face. 

He moans against you as you say his name, swirling an extra circle around your clit before he’s dragging his tongue back down and up again. Groaning as he completely devours you. 

The wet sounds are practically obscene, even without your building cries that you are trying your hardest to muffle, it would be obvious what the two of you were doing to anyone in the vague vicinity. But you quickly lost any residual thought of caring the second his mouth was on you. 

He pushes you harder against the tree, practically forcing you onto tiptoes as your right leg squeezes against his back and pulls him closer. 

He rakes his teeth over your bundle of nerves, chuckling at your little sharp intake of breath before he sucks on your clit like a man possessed. 

You moan loudly, throwing your head back against the tree bark as your legs shake and nerve endings are flayed raw with pleasure. He keeps sucking, grinding his face against you as he pulls your orgasm from your body, giving you little say in the matter. 

Your vision whites out for a second as your back arches, your fingers digging into and bruising his skin.

You barely have a moment to recover, the aftershock still running along your limbs as he pulls your leg from his shoulder and moves back. You nearly stumble for a second, weak without his support, but then his hands are around your thighs and spreading you wide as he pushes inside. 

He groans as you gasp in surprise, grinning at the way your eyebrows pinch together. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, just presses until he is completely sheathed, his length splitting you wide open. 

“Fuccck…” he moans and bucks shallowly, once, twice, before really starting to move. Setting a brutal, frantic pace that has you holding onto him for dear life as sparks of pleasure coil and glide out from your core. 

“You take me so good baby, so good for me,” he kisses you hard, nuzzling into your cheek and neck as he pounds into you in a frenzy. 

It’s like he has you memorised, every spot to make you scream, and cry, and beg for more, as he hits deliciously deep, angling his hips just so that you see stars with every thrust. 

“Blue,” you moan into his mouth, feel him grin at how wrecked you sound. “I’m-”

He changes the tempo ever so slightly and you practically scream for him. 

“That good, huh baby? Need my cock that much, hmm?” 

You nod, unable to form words. 

“Only my cock, yeah? Only me. No one else, no one else is gonna take care of you like this, no one else is gonna make this pussy feel so good, no one else is allowed.” He growls. 

You gasp, pleasure building to a dizzying high. “Please, gonna cum, please.”

He whines, biting his lip, his voice softening despite the sudden increase of his thrusts. “Oh baby please, please, I need it. Please cum on my cock, please. Need you to cum, need you to feel good, let me make you cum,” thrust, “please,” thrust, “ just me,” thrust, “ just me,” thrust, “no one else.” 

“Just you.” You manage to stammer out as bliss overtakes every thought, washing over you in waves and rippling across your very soul. 

Blue lets out a strangled cry as you cum, your walls squeezing him so tightly, urging him deeper and pulling his own orgasm from his bones. He buries his face into your neck and bites down, his saliva socking into your t-shirt as he muffles his moans. 

He stays close as you both recover, littering your face with kisses until you're giggling, and playfully trying to push his face away. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @melodygatesauthor

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[gaybananabread]

if its still available

could you do lee ragatha and ler pomni with day 8?

TickleTober Day 8 - Nuzzles

~AUUHAGA these two! I watched the new episode right before writing this. They're just so- FFFFFFFFAH! This was a pleasure to write, dear anon. I would say ship if you squint, but let's be honest: I was projecting so bad. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Ragatha

Ler: Pomni

Summary: During an impromptu cuddle session, Pomni realizes how much she loves seeing Ragatha smile and laugh. When she accidentally makes an adorable discovery, the jester makes good use of that knowledge.

Warnings: spoilers for TADC! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

She was going crazy; that was the only real explanation. There was no way on Earth it was actually happening.

And yet, there she was, Ragatha cuddled up next to her, her eyes shut peacefully. She could feel the simulated warmth of the doll against her; while she knew it wasn't truly real, it was still nice.

Pomni sighed as her mind wandered further, letting it roam—not much else to do when her mind was the only part of her that still vaguely belonged to her.

Despite everything the clown had done to her, Ragatha still stuck around. Sure, the excuse that Pomni was having an existential crisis could maybe hold up, but it didn't explain all of her behavior. It was kinda nice to have someone stick around, even if she really didn't deserve it.

The jester girl sighed as she started to run her hand through Ragatha’s woven locks, trying not to delve too far into the negative thoughts. It was healthy to confront and feel them, but she didn't want to start panicking again out of nowhere.

The gentle touch seemed to stir Ragatha from her half-asleep daze, looking groggily up at Pomni. Her one true eye half-opened as she rubbed at it.

“Pomni? You okay?” Dang. Barely two seconds of being aware, and she'd already noticed Pomni was feeling a little off. The woman had talent, to be sure.

“Uh…honestly, not really. You're amazing, you know that?” Pomni sighed, not wanting to lie to her. The compliment would hopefully soften the less-than-chipper answer; the jester still meant every word, though.

“I'm sorry. And…thank you, Pomni. That means a lot.”

That smile. Pomni had concluded that Ragatha's real smile could always cheer her up, no matter how she was feeling. She wouldn't be surprised if it was the cure to abstraction.

The jester couldn't get enough of it.

Before the redhead could notice her staring, Pomni hugged her closer and buried her face in the doll's soft neck. She really did feel just like a pillow, though more…alive.

The way Ragatha's breath hitched as he nuzzled in made her pause. Was she doing something wrong? Did it feel bad? Was she rethinking everything? F–

“S-sorry, that tickled. You're good.” Ragatha's soft head nudged Pomni’s, snapping her out of her disassociation. Oh…right. Not every semi-negative response was a complete rejection.

“Oh. Okay.” Jeez, she felt awkward. Ragatha's smile was still there, but it was less…bright. Less joyful. Pomni didn't like the change; she intended to fix it.

“You say sorry a lot, ya know. That can't be good for you.”

Ragatha felt the soft fabric of Pomni's hand brush her cheek, the woman's pale face nosing against her neck. It made Ragatha bite her cheek as she tried to stay quiet.

“I-I guess nohot, but ihit feels right.”

Pomni couldn't help but feel lighter when she heard the giggles slip through. They were so bubbly and carefree; she had to hear more.

“Just because it feels right, doesn't mean it is.” Pomni started deliberately blinking against Ragatha's plush skin, her small lashes gently tickling there.

“P-Pohomni!” Ragatha giggled and shook her head, gently kicking out one of her feet. She wasn't really trying to get away; the doll just couldn't sit still.

“What? I thought you wanted to cuddle, Ragatha.” Pomni spoke against her neck, making the ragdoll squeak and giggle like a schoolgirl. Ragatha had always known her neck was ticklish, but Pomni somehow seemed to make it ten times more sensitive by just existing.

“Y-yeheah, but- GYEE! Pohohomni!” Ragatha had tried to speak, but Pomni decided that was the perfect moment to nuzzle under her chin while gently tickling her stomach. “Youhu’re dohohoing thihis on puhuhurpose!”

“Doing what on purpose?” She hummed, knowing the vibrations would make it tickle more. The jester was honestly surprising herself; she usually wouldn’t have the confidence to do any sort of teasing. It was…really fun. “Did I say something funny?”

“Pohohomnihi!” Ragatha kept on saying her name, but nothing substantial ever really came after it. It was kinda cute.

“What? You keep saying my name; can you please finish your sentence?” She, of course, spoke against Ragatha’s neck the entire time, still gently tickling the doll’s belly. Pomni wasn’t sure how their digital bodies – especially a cloth doll’s – could be ticklish, but she wasn’t complaining.

“Wh-whyhy are youhuhu tihickling mehehe?” Ragatha wiggled and weakly batted at Pomni's hands and back, but she was mainly just giddily taking the tickles.

“Your laugh is nice, and being happy feels good. You're always making sure I'm okay; I wanna return the favor.”

Ragatha's plush heart nearly burst a seam at that. Pomni was so sweet; she'd have to convince Caine to have a soft adventure next.

“Th-thahat's reheheally sweheheet of youhu, Pohomni.”

“You deserve it. Now shush.” Feeling her cheeks heat up from the giggly appreciation, Pomni started to firmly knead Ragatha's sides; it would definitely keep her from making the jester's heart flutter.

“YEEEK! POHOHOMNI!” The adorable giggles quickly gave way to happy laughter as the doll's sides were targeted. Her squirming doubled, though she still made no real attempt to get away.

Pomni just rolled her eyes fondly as she continued to tickle the digital ragdoll to pieces. It was actually really fun, both to tickle her and hear her laugh. She could've continued for ages.

That is, if Jax hadn't chosen the most inopportune time to find them.

“Hey, freak out and ragdoll! Caine wants us to- uh…” He froze as he came across the scene, color glowing on his purple cheeks. What the *BOINK*?

Pomni immediately stopped when she heard his voice, not knowing how Ragatha would react to Jax seeing them.

“Wh-whahat was thahat, Jax?” Ragatha was tickle-drunk as she slowly sat up, hugging her sides with a tired smile. She didn't seem bugged in the slightest that Jax had walked in.

“I…tch, whatever. Caine wants everyone at the stage for another adventure. Hurry up.” With that, he walked off, his ear twitching slightly for some “unknown” reason.

“Ragatha, I… I'm sorry. I didn't hear him coming.” Pomni wrung her gloved hands, hoping she wouldn't be too mad. She looked calm enough, but that didn't mean anything.

“What? Pomni, you're fine! Jax had seen me laugh like that plenty of times — everyone has, really. No harm done.”

The gentle back rubs Pomni received after that immediately put her at ease. Ragatha seemed to have recovered quickly enough, and she couldn't sense any hidden anger or discontent.

“Oh…okay. Let's go, then.” Pomni started walking to the stage, but Ragatha grabbed her wrist. Before she could ask anything, the jester was swept up into a tight hug, her feet leaving the ground for a moment.

“Thank you, Pomni. Really. It feels good to laugh with someone trustworthy here.”

With that, Ragatha walked off, quickly catching up to Jax. His shouts were soon heard across the tent, squeaky and embarrassed-sounding.

Pomni's mind was racing. That hug felt…good. No, understatement: that hug felt wonderful. Ragatha's smile, her giggles, her laughter, the way she sounded afterwards…

The jester girl looked down, finding her face slightly reflected in the sparkling tile of the circus floor. Her usual pinwheel pupils were shaped differently, resembling…hearts.

“...F-*SPROING*-k.”

[graciegoeskrazy]

and too much racket

matty healy + teen!daughter!r (ft. george)

warnings: r does drugs!!!, nothing in graphic detail, mentions of mattys addiction, yelling, crying, shit ending but cute?

a/n: mention of a specific drug that starts with a k that i can’t fully say so inside the street name cuz i don’t want tumblr banning me even do its weird cuz they block my angstyfluffy healy things but there’s litteral prn on thier site anywhooooooo im a lover not a fighter. thx to anon who requested! had to do research cuz ive never done drugs aeha

The house was quiet. He was anticipating another night alone in the house while you were out with friends. The silence was broken by the sound of a call. He snatched up the phone and answered it immediately. 9 times out of 10 it was just you checking in or saying hi.

“Hi, baby. Everything okay?”

“Mr. Healy?” The voice on the other end was hesitant, unsure. Most importantly, it wasn’t yours.

“Kate? Where’s y/n?” The worry in his voice intensified, his mind racing through all the possible scenarios.

“Mr. Healy, we’re getting ready to drop y/n off. Are you home?”

“Yeah. Why? Is she okay? Is she that drunk?” He laughed a little at the thought. He knew you liked to drink on occasion and sometimes even use weed and he was usually fine with it as long as you were being safe and called when you needed him. He always said he would drop anything in a heartbeat.

“No, she’s not drunk. She’s...high...on something that...isn’t weed.” Kate’s words hung heavily in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

“What? What was it, Kate? You can tell me.” His voice was laced with confusion and urgency.

“I don’t know. She left the room awhile ago, said she was going to the bathroom, but when she came back she was clearly on something. Something a lot stronger.”

“Oh god.” He ran a hand through his hair, his mind spinning.

“Somebody said she had mentioned Ket, but I don't know where she would’ve gotten it? We don’t do that type of stuff—I barely drink!” Kate’s voice cracked, the fear and confusion palpable.

“I know, I know, Kate. It’s gonna be okay. Where is she now?” He forced himself to stay calm. He could tell your friend was starting to panic even more.

“She’s asleep in the car. We just left.” Her voice softened, the exhaustion and worry evident.

“Alright, bring her here. Drive carefully. We’ll figure this out.”

As the call ended he sent frantic texts to the only other people who he knew loved you almost as much as he loved you, begging them to come over. George, residing the closest, knocked on the door not even 10 minutes later, worried about the vague text Matty sent. Ross came in not long after, with Adam, Carly, Charli, and Jamie all trailing from behind. He explained everything he knew, and before they knew it a knock sounded at the door.

—————

Your heart pounded as you stepped out of the car, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You couldn't believe Kate had brought you here, to your own house. You barely remembered getting in the car. Now - you were wide awake. "You brought me to my house?!" Your voice shook with disbelief.

Kate, her face a mask of concern, tried to reach out to you. "It’s for your own good, Y/n. We called your dad, he’s gonna help—"

Your eyes widened in horror, and she took a step back in fear. "You called my DAD?!?!"

Kate flinched at the volume, "We were just trying to help, Y/n."

"Well, just stay out of it—" You shot back, voice breaking.

The front door swung open, and Matty stood there, his face set in a grim expression. "Y/N," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Living room. Now."

You felt a surge of defiance but knew better than to argue with your father when he was in this state. "Dad—"

"Now," Matty repeated, his voice stern.

With a final, furious glance at Kate, you stormed past her and into the house.

Kate’s eyes filled with tears as she confronted your father, filled with worry and guilt. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Healy! I should have kept a closer eye on her-”

“It’s not your fault, Kate. We’ll get through this.” He managed a small, reassuring smile before turning his attention back to y/n.

Matty followed her inside, closing the door behind him with a heavy thud.

You were met with most of your aunts and uncles as soon as you walked in, mentally groaning and rolling your eyes. The room is tense. You glance around, taking in the faces of family and friends, all summoned by your father. Their presence only amplifies your frustration. You turned to your father as soon as you heard his familiar footsteps grow closer.

“You called everyone?!” you exclaim.

Matty’s expression is stern, unyielding. “We need help with this one, babe”

“Oh my god— I got high one time. I need some water and Advil, not a fucking intervention,” you retort.

“Sit down,” Matty commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, you drop onto the couch, your arms crossed in defiance. Matty takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “Weed and a couple of Trulys are one thing, y/n, but this?!”

You roll your eyes, a gesture that seems to cut through the tension like a knife. It’s a bold move, especially aimed at your father. Even in your age of defiance, you never once dared to act like this in front of your father. He doesn’t flinch, his gaze piercing as he presses on. “Where’d you get it?” You shift uncomfortably, weighing your options. “Tell me. Now,”

You let out a resigned sigh. “A friend—”

“What friend?” Matty interrupts, his patience wearing thin.

“She was prescribed it for her anxiety or something,” you explain, trying to maintain some composure. “Now she’s just been dealing it to people.”

The room remains charged with tension, but a different kind now, more personal, more painful. You sit, feeling the weight of your father’s disappointment. The silence hangs heavily before Matty finally speaks again.

“Those girls were scared, y/n. You should’ve heard Kate; she was terrified! I could hear it in her voice,” Your dad says, his voice strained.

“She’s fine,” you reply dismissively.

Matty’s eyes narrow. “You better pray they forgive you.”

“Oh my god— it’s not that big of a deal!”.

“You scared the shit out of ’em, love!” Matty’s voice rises, echoing through the room.

“You think everything was fine after I quit? I lost friends, y/n. I almost lost every single person in this room, and I probably would’ve if I hadn’t gotten my act together.”

“Well, good for you. You’re doing so great now,” you retort sarcastically, the bitterness evident.

Matty’s expression shifts from anger to confusion. “I just don’t understand what caused you to act out like this?”

“Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree,” you shoot back, your voice trembling with barely contained emotion. He knew what you were referring to. They all did.

“Y/n!” George’s voice breaks the momentary silence, his tone a mix of shock and reprimand.

“Take it back,” Matty demands, his dangerous. “Take it back right now, y/n.”

“You can’t be that surprised, can you?” you challenge, meeting his gaze without a flinch..

“You heard of the things I went through!” Matty’s voice cracks, a raw edge to his words.

“Are you kidding? I fucking saw the things you went through! The things you put me through!” Your voice rises, the anger and pain you’ve held back for so long spilling out. “The nights you chose that shit over me! The weeks and months you left me with George because you were too high or too irresponsible to take care of me! Your daughter!”

The room goes silent. Matty’s face is a mix of guilt and helplessness, but it soon turns to anger. “Go upstairs,” Matty finally says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stand up, your movements brisk and fast, and head towards the stairs. Each step feels like a mountain, the weight of the confrontation pressing down on you. As you reach your room, the door closes behind you with a soft click, cutting off the world outside.

—————

The next morning, you wake up to an empty house. Your father and George must have left early for the studio, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The silence is heavy, a stark contrast to the tension of the previous night. You sit on the edge of your bed, the events replaying in your mind, and decide to call George.

After a few rings, he picks up, voice chipper. “Well, look who’s up and out of her intoxicated state!”

You roll your eyes, though a small smile tugs at your lips. “I called to ask how your day was going, not to hear about my mistakes.”

“Awe, she cares!” George’s voice is teasing, but there’s warmth in it too.

“I always do,” you reply softly, the sincerity clear in your tone.

There’s a brief pause before George speaks again, his voice a bit more serious. “Your dad misses you. Won’t stop moanin’ and groanin’ about his girl.”

“You sure he’s not talking about another girl?” you ask.

George sighs. “You both said things you regret, babe. Fix it. Whatever is happening right now, it’s not worth it.”

“I know,” you admit, the guilt gnawing at you. “Thanks, George.”

“And if you ever do that tom-fuckery again, I will have your head in an old-fashioned guillotine.”

“Noted.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then you muster the courage to say, “I never said thank you for taking care of me then. So…thank you. For everything.”

George smiles a bit. “Just doing my duties as best uncle.”

“Hm.” You smile.

After hanging up, you sit quietly for a moment, absorbing the conversation. George’s words echo in your mind.

Later that day, you hear the familiar sound of the front door opening. Matty’s voice calls out, filled with tentative. “Baby girl? I’m home.”

You rush out from where you’ve been anxiously waiting, tears already streaming down your face. As soon as you see him, you crumble into his arms, mumbling through your sobs. “I’m sorry I mess up and I’m sorry for the things I said and the things I’ve done and I’m sorry you’re stuck with me and I’m sorry that I’m not the perfect kid but I really try to be and try to be that perfect kid for you and for everyone but it all just got a little much and I was trying to make things better and be an adult I guess and I got carried away and I’m sorry Daddy I’m just so sorry.”

He smiles, trying to hide his laugh at your words and ranting. He wraps his arms around you tightly, his voice soothing. “It’s gonna be fine, baby—”

“No it’s not,” you interrupt, your voice cracking with the weight of your guilt. “I messed up, I messed up bad. I made a mistake.”

“A mistake which you will never make again, correct?”

“I promise,” you whisper, your tears soaking into his shirt.

“Good. You’re not perfect, y/n. And thank god you’re not. Do you know how horrible I would feel if I had a perfect child? God, I could never keep up with you. You are smart and funny and so charismatic, and if it weren’t for you being my child, then you might have been perfect…” The tension starts easing. “But I don’t care,” Matty continues, his voice tender. “Because you are mine, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“I love you,” you say, your voice steadying as you look up at him.

“I love you most... but I will throw you in a river if you do that shit again,” Matty replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. Now, maybe, just maybe, healing can begin.

[milkweedman]

hello! need help learning how to do a thing and it's your area of expertise so im squirrelling into your ask box (dad joke, sorry.) ANYWAY

i have a lot of jeans that i really really like. however, my most worn jeans tend to, uh. rip in the seat after some time. either near the ass, or at the crotch. this is super irritating, and i don't like tossing the jeans just because of that but i have no idea how to fix them or what to do about this.

i vaguely remember you posting on here about jeans wear and tear as well. sorry if im asking you something that you have already answered, but just wanted to know - what's a good way of mending jeans ripped in the crotch area?

better yet, how do i reinforce my jeans that are showing the warning signs of ripping at the crotch?

My jeans literally just ripped a couple days ago and ive been wearing sweatpants to work out if laziness, so you have good timing 🐿

There might be many ways to do this (and there's definitely NEATER ways to do this) but here's how I fix mine:

They just sort of wore right through. Luckily I was able to catch it before they started ripping too. The sooner you catch a hole the better--and noticing before it rips is best.

You will need a sewing needle (for jeans I like the shortest sharpest needle with a small eye but use whatever needle is comfortable), scissors, a strip of scrap fabric, and some thread. Ideally thread in the same color as your jeans, but I'm using one that will stand out so you can see the repair. Also, nobody will see this later so it doesn't really matter. Pins will also help keep things neat but aren't strictly necessary.

The strip of fabric should be big enough to cover the entire area that wears out, doubled over, on this leg. You can of course just patch the hole, but then you'll grow a new hole a centimeter to the left, so its less work to just do this now.

For preventative measures (sewing a patch on before there is a hole) the process is exactly the same. Just patch the area you know will wear out.

Step 1: turn the pants inside out. fold your patch and pin it in place. We want a doubled patch because a single layer might wear through as well. If you don't have pins, you can use a spare needle or just set it over the repair site.

Like so. If you want these to look nice, keep everything neat and straight. I just want these mended and don't care how it looks one iota, so mine will be messy.

Step 2: thread your needle with doubled thread. A single thread can and probably will wear through here.

Step 3: put your non dominant hand down the leg you're fixing. Your hand should be under the patch supporting while you sew. If you have an embroidery hoop or something leg-sized to put there to hold things taut, that's even better.

Step 4: start sewing the patch down. First we just want to secure it before we do any reinforcing. You could use any stitch here ( whipstitch would probably be good, backstitch is good as well) but I just use a simple running stitch. Go around the entire patch, removing pins if present as you go. Keep your stitches loose here, or at least not tight.

Step 5: reinforcing ! This part can be done on either side, and the front is going to look way neater than the back. If this is in matching thread I'd go ahead and work on the inside because the messy outside won't be seen. If it's contrasting thread you may want to work on the outside, so that at least you have a good pattern. I don't care either way, so I'll work on the inside as it's a little easier. Like I said, this repair really won't be seen when wearing the pants, so the aesthetics aren't very important imo.

To reinforce, I will stitch plus signs/x's over the entire patch. You can do them one at a time or sew all the horizontal lines, then sew vertically to intersect. It's up to you, I like doing them one at a time though.

Yes, they're very bad. Yes this will still extend the life of these pants several months at least. Yes it would be even more effective if I took the time to be neater.

On top on the right image is the patch I did on the other side when they started shredding 5 or 6 months ago. The fabric on the front is only just now starting to fail again, so they will need another round of mending. I will probably extend the patch down the leg a little but mostly just sew more. When you add a layer of thread over fabric, now you have to wear through all of the thread before you start wearing down the fabric again. That's largely how these patches work.

A much much neater and more aesthetic form of this basic idea is sashiko sewing. It's a great way to mend things like jeans (I just don't care about my jeans being anything other than usable so I save my effort and creativity for where I will enjoy it).

Here's the front. I highly doubt anyone will ever see the yellow but I sharpied it black (can also do blue on most shades of blue jeans) and now it stands out less.

One last thing--if, when you look at the front again, you see there are some damaged areas standing proud, sew over those until they have compacted back down and are smooth again. This is important--whatever stands the highest will wear first. So your repairs should be sitting on top, standing higher than the damaged fabric. Otherwise this is all for naught.

Some tips:

A canvas fabric is better. Go for something thick and with some weight to it if you can--immobilizing the repair site will also help some with how long the repair will last.

Similarly colored thread will render this almost invisible. Almost invisible means hard to work on... so make sure your patch is a different color so you're not mending like black thread on black fabric. Save your eyes.

Smaller stitches are better if you have the time/coordination. Large stitches can snag in the wash and also aren't as effective here.

That said, chicken scratch looking garbage will absolutely still make your pants wearable again, as you can see.

If the physical act of moving the needle is going terribly, it's because it's the wrong needle for the job. For jeans, you want a short needle as thin as possible with a small eye. I switched halfway thru this mend because I found a better needle and it was way easier after that.

That's all I got, good luck with your pants ! I usually can double or triple my jeans life this way

[sky-kiss]

Lucy & Cooper: Eye to Eye

A/N: So short but needed it out of my head. Vague spoilers for the end of Fallout's first season, so be aware.

L & C: Eye to Eye

Vaultie doesn’t talk much for the first couple of days. 

Coop tries not to dwell on it—lot easier for him, lot safer for them, if she keeps her mouth shut. Just…well, hell, it’s one of those things that niggles at him, twitching in the back of his mind like a worm on a hook. Dumb fuckin’ fish that he is, Coop lets it draw him in. 

The ghoul gives her a once-over as they settle in for the night. Blood’s still crusted on her uniform, near the corner of her mouth, some of it flecked into her hair. A mottled bruise stretches across her cheek and up over her temple, purple at its center before paling to yellows and greens on the edges. Coop knows it hurts, but Vaultie doesn’t say shit. 

A noose and a prolonged stay on death’s door, dehydration, and irradiation hadn’t shut her up, but she’s sitting there, staring into the fire, all banged up and silent. 

Cooper chews a sardine ponderously. There’s no taste, not anymore, just the tension of flesh and little bones giving way beneath his teeth. He grunts before sliding the rest of the tray across to her. Vaultie doesn’t take it. He clucks his tongue. “Eat when then eatin’ is good, Vaultie. Get deeper into the Wastes and…well.” he shrugs as if the silence should be all the answer she needs. And it should be, but she just goes on staring with her huge doe eyes. 

“I’m not hungry.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds. “Thank you.” 

“Do what you like. You’re a big girl. And I ain’t your daddy.” 

The phrase jostles something in her head. Vaultie’s whole face screws up—nose scrunching, lips curling—and she opens her mouth as if to speak, only for it to snap shut. A muscle twitches in the corner of her mouth and it’s…it’s a hell of a thing. 

He doesn’t see his daughter in her face…doesn’t see Barb. He’s looking in a mirror. It’s two centuries ago, and he’s staring at himself—all offended dignity as he reads something unsavory in a script or listens to a suit wax philosophical about a battlefield they’ll never see.  

Vaultie must clock something about his reaction. All the stiffness leaves her posture. She just…deflates, eyes dropping. “I know that,” she says, voice soft. Not the “let me de-escalate this situation” bullshit she’d put on in Filly…just human. Very human and so tired. “I’m sorry—it was wrong of me to snap at you.” 

Coop almost laughs. He holds his arms out wide instead. “No harm done.” 

She goes back to her staring, back to her silence. Something howls off in the distance.  

Out of nowhere, and because it’s all just fuckin’ disorienting—the silence, having somebody around again—the ghoul says, “Reckon you’ll kill him?”

“Excuse me?” 

He picks nonexistent grit out of his teeth and spits. “Think you know exactly who I mean, sweetheart.” Vaultie cocks her head to the side. Firelight licks at her skin—it makes his hard lines harder, edges more jagged, but for her? She looks soft and young…a gross oversimplification. There’s steel in her eyes. Coop shrugs, flashing a smile that must look horrible. She doesn’t shrink back. “You find it offends your finer sensibilities and I’ll do it for ya.” 

“No.” Her tone leaves no room for debate. 

“Vaultie, that’s not a word I’m in the habit of hearing.” 

“It’s Lucy,” she corrects. “And I…said what I said.” The girl hugs her arms around herself. “He’s still my dad. I don’t want him…” Vau..Lucy pauses. Her brow furrows, “...Well, I guess I don’t know what I want yet. But…I have time.” 

“Less and less of it every day.” 

She screws up her nose again. “Maybe. But it’s my choice.” It’s the damnedest thing: the words just hang there for a second, silence broken by the crackle of the fire. And then she seems to actively register what she’s said. It’s Lucy MacLean’s choice. She smiles and nods—brilliant and bloodied and somehow still clean. “But…thank you for offering.” 

Like he’s suggested giving up his seat on the bus and not filling her daddy full of lead. Fuckin’ Vaulties…Coop shakes his head, “Anytime, sweetheart.”