#and being so busy is just making things worse

[sigilslvt]

JEALOUSY • DRABBLE

☣︎ Summary: The men all have their reasons for getting jealous around you. But how exactly do they react when they feel the threat is much more real? SURELY, they’re rational, right?

Includes: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Sukuna, and Nanami

Tags: fem! reader, friends to lovers, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, teasing, bulging, pussy eating, choking, breeding, praise, overstim, possessiveness, threatened gun violence, toxic possessiveness, car sex, dry humping, rough sex, squirting, pining, premature ejaculation, love bombing, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, true form sukuna, slight angst

WC: 13.1k

A/N: I cackled writing Choso’s, my poor baby is too precious 😩💜

༒︎ Gojo Satoru ༒︎

You pull into the gas station because, once again, your car is on its last leg. Satoru’s been absolutely useless this entire car ride, lounging like some kind of overgrown housecat, sunglasses crooked on his nose, humming the most obnoxious song he can think of just to get under your skin. His long legs are kicked up on your dashboard like he’s king of the world.

“Finally, a pit stop,” he says, stretching dramatically. “I was starting to think you’d just run us out of gas for fun. You know, to create a bonding moment.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, putting the car in park. “Stay in the car. Not that I have to tell you that.”

He snickers, not even looking up from whatever weird little game he’s playing on his phone. “Sure thing, sugar. Let me know if you need me to heroically pump the gas for you. I’ll try not to make it look too easy.”

You ignore him because giving him attention only makes it worse. You grab your wallet and step out, the cold air biting at your face as you swipe your card and get ready to fill the tank as quickly as possible so you can return to the cocoon of warmth that is your car. You’re in your own little zone, minding your business, when a voice breaks through the quiet.

“Hey there! Need some help?”

You glance up, startled, and see a guy walking over. He’s got that effortless, small-town-boy charm, the kind of guy who probably calls everyone “ma’am” and knows how to fix a tractor. He’s smiling, too— a little too widely, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s taking the pump right out of your hands.

“Oh, I had it,” you say, trying to be polite, but this guy is already on a roll.

“Nah, no worries,” he says, grinning. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to pump their own gas. It’s just not right.”

You blink at him, caught somewhere between confusion and being impressed, because— wow. Is this really happening?

You glance back at your car, hoping Gojo hasn’t noticed, but as soon as your eyes land on his, you know you’re doomed. He’s sitting up now, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, staring at you both like he’s just been served the juiciest gossip of the year. His grin is growing and you’re sure he’s ready to put on a show.

Before you can stop him, he throws open the car door and steps out like he’s been summoned to the stage. He stretches unnecessarily— arms up, head tilted back, like he’s on the cover of a sports magazine— and then saunters over, hands in his pockets, looking way too pleased with himself.

The gas station guy looks up, noticing Gojo for the first time. His smile falters just a little. “Oh, uh… hey. Didn’t realize you had someone with you.”

Satoru’s already grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he says, waving a hand. “I’m just her boyfriend. You know, the adoring, perfect, doting one who pumps her gas all the time.”

You groan. “Toru—”

“What? I’m just saying, it’s cute that you’re trying to help, bud,” he says, turning back to the guy with a grin so wide it’s almost terrifying. “But this is kind of my thing. I know she’s just the sweetest, but she’s taken.You get it, right? Yeah, you get it.”

The poor guy blinks, clearly unsure if Satoru’s joking or about to start something. “Uh, yeah, no problem,” he mutters, handing the pump back to you like it’s radioactive. “You two have a good day.”

“Oh, we will!” Gojo chirps, giving him a little salute. “And hey, nice try, man. Better luck next time.”

The guy doesn’t even look back. He practically sprints back to the safety of the gas station, and as soon as he’s gone, you turn to Toru, crossing your arms and pursing your lips in annoyance.

“What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” he asks, feigning innocence as he leans casually against the car. “I was just making sure no one stole my job. You know how much I love pumping your gas.”

You gape at him. “You’ve never pumped gas in your life!”

“Exactly,” he says smugly. “That’s what makes this moment so special. It’s a sacred duty.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “You’re so insufferable.”

“And yet,” he says, draping an arm around your shoulders, “you love me. Isn’t that wild?”

“Whatever. I’m gonna get a snack. Want something?” you roll your eyes and start walking toward the station.

“I’ll come with, I’m craving something sweet.” he smirks with a look in his eyes that you can’t quite discern.

You raise a brow and walk with him, entering the gas station with the goal to grab a bag of chips and water, but the second you head for them, your hand is being trapped by Satoru’s and he’s tugging you toward the bathroom. You shoot him a look of confusion and annoyance, but he pays it no mind as he yanks you inside, closing the door behind you and pressing you against it.

“Toru, wha—”

“Told you I wanted something sweet, sugar. Bend over a little f’me.” he instructs, turning you so you’re facing the door. Your palms lay flat against it, trying to use it as leverage to turn yourself, but he presses your head to the door, too, his strong palm mushing your cheeks to it, sucking his teeth in disapproval.

“You’re insane, w-we’re in a gas station,” you try to reason with him, but his hand’s already shoved up your skirt and peeling down your panties. “Satoru, seriously…”

“Y’telling me to stop? She’s cryin’ f’me, though, I think she’ll be so sad if I don’t give her what she wants,” he purrs, getting to his knees and littering kisses on the fat of your ass. “C’mere, baby.”

You’re lost to him the moment he stuffs his face into your already dripping cunt, bucking yourself back against him and into the feel of his greedy tongue slipping between your folds and down, down, down to your clit. You can feel him smirking against you when he draws out a long shaky whine from your lips between your panting and while normally his cockiness would annoy you beyond belief, it instead turns you on more. And yet—

“Wh-hah— why couldn’t this wait until we got to the hotel?” you ask, nails scraping down the door when he plunges his tongue into your twitching hole.

He pulls away for a moment, spreading your ass to spit a glob of saliva between your folds and slurp it back up while sucking your clit. No answer. You huff and tremble, unsure of how long you’ll be able to keep yourself standing if he’s just gonna keep eating you like a man starved.

You try, you really do, to keep your voice down, but when his tongue hits that spot inside of your gummy walls, his hand between your thighs and thumb working on your clit, you can’t help but let your moans slip out. And oh, does that make him even more unrelenting. His thumb draws circles on your clit quicker and with more pressure, his tongue fucking into you as rough as can be. 

Your eyelids flutter closed, breathing labored as you feel that sweet sweet build up that you love so much. He knows what comes next and while normally, he’d see you to the end, this time he stops, earning a frown from your pretty face.

“Wh-why’d y—” you start.

“Y’mine, say it.”

“What? Toru, what’s—”

“Say. It. Say y’mine… say y’love me and I’ll make you cum so good, sugar, I promise.” he all but whines.

You don’t know why it needs to be said or what’s going on with him, but you’ll be damned if you let your orgasm escape you. With every second that passes, it runs from you, so you give him what he needs. “I’m yours, baby. I love you.” you coo.

“Again.” he huffs against your cunt, making your knees weak. He’s so close. You’re so close.

“I love y— hah,” your breath escapes you when he delves his tongue back into your pulsing hole. “Fuuuuck… I love you, I love you, I l— fuck!” your cunt tries it’s best to grip his tongue, but he fucks it into you with more force as you cum on it, losing strength in your legs and slumping down while your brain goes dumb with pleasure.

He holds you up, tongue slipping out of you and back to your clit, his head shaking side to side while he licks at your clit, overstimulating you beyond belief. All you can do is cry out for mercy, palms battering at the bathroom door as you raise your white flag.

With that, he frees you from the sweet torture, massaging your thighs and resting back on his ankles. “I’m pumping your gas from now on.” he huffs.

Coming back to your senses, you realize why he pulled this stunt off. “Satoru. Were you… jealous!?” you chuckle in disbelief.

“I’ve got nothing to be jealous about, it seems. What with the ‘I love you, I love you, I—’” he mocks you while standing up and you smack his arm.

“Sh-shut up.” You huff, pouting as he puts your panties back in place, dolling you back up and kissing your shoulder.

“Nope. But you’re gonna wish you had when the poor guy out there’s blushing redder than red.” he teases. Your eyes widen and you cover your mouth with your hand when you realize he had to have heard everything.

“You’re insane.” your voice is muffled by your hand.

“Insane’s one word for it,” he smirks. “I like to say I’m just crazy for you.”

Not long later, you’re climbing back into the car. Satoru follows, flopping into the passenger seat with a contented sigh like he’s just won a marathon.

As you pull out of the station, he stretches again, kicking his feet up on the dash like he owns the place. “You know,” he says casually, “you should really thank me. That guy was totally about to ask for your number. I saved you from a very awkward situation.”

And you could quite literally kill him.

༒︎ Geto Suguru ༒︎

The room is buzzing with conversation, a polite undercurrent of tension that doesn’t escape you. Cult leaders and their followers mill about in finely tailored clothes, exchanging calculated smiles and empty pleasantries. You’re trying your best to look engaged, but your thoughts keep drifting to Suguru.

He stands a few feet away, surrounded by a small circle of curse users, his tall frame commanding attention with ease. His black robes flow elegantly around him, his long hair tied back neatly. The faint smirk on his face, the calm way he speaks— it all oozes confidence. Control. Every now and then, he glances in your direction, his sharp eyes softening for just a moment before flicking back to the conversation.

You’re nursing a drink near the refreshment table when someone sidles up beside you.

“Ah, I was hoping I’d get the chance to meet you,” a smooth voice says.

You turn to see a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit, his polished appearance almost too pristine. His expression is warm but calculated, and his sharp eyes are already fixed on you. Takeda. You recognize him instantly— leader of a large, influential cult. Non-sorcerer, but powerful in his own way.

“Good evening,” you reply, forcing a polite smile. They have their role to play, Geto tells you, so you make sure to keep appearances with non-sorcerers despite their usual poor attitude toward you.

He smiles wider. “Good evening, indeed. I couldn’t help but notice you standing here all by yourself. It seems almost criminal for someone as lovely as you to be left alone at an event like this.”

You feel your cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment, a small flush creeping up your neck. “I’m not alone. I’m here with my boyfriend,” you say, gesturing subtly in Suguru’s direction.

Takeda follows your gaze and chuckles softly. “Suguru Geto. Of course. I’ve heard much about him.” His attention snaps back to you, and his smile turns almost wolfish. “I must admit, though, I’m surprised. I didn’t think someone so… captivating would end up with a man who seems so creepy… Besides, I’m sure he’s always so busy. Too busy to truly appreciate a beauty like you.”

Your face heats further, and you stammer, “He’s not too busy. He’s just—”

Before you can finish, he takes your hand in his and presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles. It’s old-fashioned, deliberate, and enough to leave you momentarily stunned. Not in awe, but in pure shock. He’s bold, you’ll give him that.

Your breath catches, and you feel a wave of heat rush to your face. You try to pull your hand back, but his grip is firm— not unkind, but enough to make you falter. You can’t ruin appearances by hurting him, so you allow it, praying he’ll give up soon.

“A pleasure meeting you,” he murmurs, his lips still ghosting over your skin.

And then you feel it— the air shifting suddenly. A heavy, familiar presence fills the space around you, and Takeda finally releases your hand. You glance over your shoulder to see Suguru a few feet away, his dark eyes fixed on the two of you as he approaches.

“Takeda,” Suguru says smoothly, his tone light but carrying a weight that makes your stomach flip because you know better.

Takeda straightens and flashes a smile that’s far too confident. “Geto. What a pleasure to see you,” He gestures toward you. “I was just introducing myself to your lovely partner. She’s quite… enchanting.”

Suguru’s lips twitch, curving into a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m aware.”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels too loud in the quiet. Suguru’s gaze flickers briefly to your hand before returning to Takeda.

“I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable,” he continues softly.

Takeda chuckles nervously, clearly unsure of how to respond. Geto’s not usually the type to be confrontational in public. It’s normally all smiles and politics for him, so this has Takeda stunned. “I meant no disrespect, of course.”

Suguru hums thoughtfully. “No disrespect… Of course not.” He tilts his head slightly, his smile sharpening. “But you’d do well to remember your place, Takeda. Admiration is one thing. Touching, however…” He trails off, his tone turning razor-sharp, dark eyes honing in on the poor man’s. “That’s dangerous, especially for someone like you.”

Takeda falters, his polished demeanor cracking for just a moment. “I— I’ll keep that in mind,” he mutters before excusing himself and retreating into the crowd.

As soon as he’s gone, Suguru turns to you, his sharp expression softening slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just looking at you in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“You seemed… flustered,” he says finally, his voice quiet but probing.

Your cheeks burn, and you look away. “I wasn’t, he just caught me off guard,” you mumble.

Suguru steps closer, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Are you sure? Because from where I was standing…” He pauses, his voice dropping. “It looked like you didn’t mind it.”

“Suguru—”

“Did you like it?” he interrupts, his tone impossibly soft, almost vulnerable. “A weakling holding your hand, kissing it like that… Did you enjoy it?” 

Your heart twists at the faint frown tugging at his lips, the rare glimpse of uncertainty in his usually composed expression. That’s when you recognize the look in his eye. It isn’t anger, it’s fear. Insecurity. Things you never expected to see from him.

“No,” you say quickly, reaching for him. “Of course not. I could never, baby.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for any sign of dishonesty. Finally, he exhales softly and takes your hand in his, his thumb brushing over the spot where Takeda’s lips had been.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his voice low but firm.

He leads you down a hallway, wanting to be away from the noise and chatter of the convention. When he pushes open the door to an empty room and pulls you inside, the silence feels almost deafening in comparison to everything on the outside.

Suguru closes the door and turns to face you, his dark eyes heavy with emotion. Without a word, he cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Say it,” he whispers, his voice raw.

“Say what?” you ask softly, your hands resting on his chest.

“That you’re mine,” he breathes, his forehead pressing against yours. “That you wouldn’t leave me for some monkey.”

Your heart aches at the quiet desperation in his tone. “I’m yours, of course I’m yours.” You whisper, your hands curling into his robes. “Always.”

The next thing you know, his lips are melting yours, soft at first, but quickly growing more insistent. When he pulls back, his breathing is uneven, and his eyes are darker than ever.

“Again,” he all but whines, his lips trailing down to your jaw. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Suguru,” you repeat, your voice racing as your heart squeezes. “Only yours.”

He exhales sharply, his hands sliding down to grip your waist. “Good,” he whispers, moreso to himself. “Good… because I need you.”

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses you again, this time with a desperation that feels like he’s trying to erase every trace of Takeda’s touch from your skin.

His nails dig into your sides, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, tasting all that you have— all that you are. He’s needy, moving to hoist you up and hook your legs around his waist.

Your dress rides up your thighs and he wastes no time gripping at the fat of them, subtly rolling his hips into you in a way that tells you he may just be doing it subconsciously. Gasps are shared between your lips as he kisses you a few more times before moving to swipe his tongue up your neck, stopping just under your jaw and sucking a big fat hickey into the crevice.

It feels so good that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working their way down, down, down to your ass, pulling you into him with every roll of his hips. You feel how hard he is even through his robes, unable and unwilling to stop yourself from sliding the top of his gojogesa off his broad shoulders. You’re dipping your head down to pepper kisses all over his shoulder while he marks you up, your nails leaving marks of their own on his skin from how hard you’re gripping him.

You know what this is. Know what he needs. You’d be a fool to stop him from taking it. “Sugu… here.” You tell him, emphasizing your words by rolling your hips in tandem with his.

You swear you hear him growl as he tears his lips from your throat and grips your underwear on one side to tear them off, your eyes widening at the action. Suguru’s normally a calm, calculated man, even when he makes love to you, everything is suave and he’s always in control, but now? Now, he’s become someone entirely different. Someone needy. Someone eager to prove a point. To stake a claim.

“Here, angel.” Is all you hear before your mouth is stuffed with your own underwear and– when did he whip his dick out? You’ve got no idea, but it’s plugged into you before you can react, a long and grateful groan just spilling from Suguru’s lips like he’s finally laying in bed after a long day of hard labor. He’s home. Your head falls back against the door and he uses the opportunity to attack your neck again, littering the skin with kisses, licks, and the occasional bite.

He’s got no rhyme or rhythm in his thrusts, he simply ruts into you with a force that has the door shaking, the metal bar rattling and making your stomach lurch with fear at the fact that it could so easily be pushed for you two to end up on display for everyone. The fear falls away soon, however, replaced with nothing but pleasure when he’s targeting that wonderful gummy little bullseye that makes you go dumb on his cock.

Your eyes start searching for something in the back of your head, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth and soaking your underwear as your shaky moans are muffled by the fabric. And you don’t know when it started, but your ears tune into Suguru whining the same thing repeatedly. “Mine, all mine, mine, mine, mine—” again and again and again with every punctuated thrust targeting your poor cervix.

Your nails rake down his back, hoping to find some sort of balance to compensate for the fact that your legs are beginning to ragdoll, no strength left in them as they flop by his sides with every thrust. Except, you don’t have to worry. No, his grip on you is bruising, he never wants to let you go.

And you wish you could see his face in this moment. See how he looks when he’s so adamant about proving it to himself that you’re his. Before you know it, you’re snaking a hand into his hair and tugging his head back, earning a needy little whine from his puffy lips before he’s looking at you. Oh, is he looking at you. Like you’re the world. Like you’re salvation. His brows are drawn tightly together, a pout on his lips that tells you he’d be nothing without you. God, you wanna kiss him. Wanna tell him a million times over that you’d never even think of another.

The look on your face tells him exactly what you want, you think, because in the next instant, he’s tearing the underwear from your mouth and crushing his lips into yours. His thrusts have rhythm now, his hips fucking into you with urgency. Every time his thick cock slips past your puffy folds, you’re inched closer, oh so closer to cumming and your stomach draws tight at the feeling. He’s chasing both of your orgasms, not once missing that spongey little spot that makes you see stars as he pounds you into the door, your voice sounding out to God knows how many people are in the hallway while you kiss him, your drool now slipping down his chin.

You hear him groan into the kiss as his hips start to falter– he’s close. And yet, while his rhythm is lost, his force is worse. Every thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge until you’re right there. “I love you,” he whines against your lips before breaking away and letting his head fall back. “I love you, I love you, I. Fucking. Love. You.” He punctuates the last repetition with a thrust for each word, cumming on the very last one along with you, who couldn’t help but cum at the words he’s never said before.

You two had been together for a year. A whole year and not once had Suguru ever uttered the words. You always knew he wasn’t an emotional man, so you never expected to hear the words. You felt it, though. His care for you. It was in his actions. How he never forgot an important date, how he would always bring home food or a treat or flowers for you, how he loathed being away from you for any given reason. And yet, the words still shock you.

He ruts into you a few more times before he stills, nothing to be heard except for your breaths shared between each other until his eyes go wide– perhaps in realization of what he’s just said, and he kisses you. Softer this time. More sure of himself. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that he’s confessed.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, his hands tightening on your thighs. “Don’t let anyone else touch you like that again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. Not angry, not upset, just… needy.  “I don’t care who it is. I won’t stand for it. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I just can’t bear to see that again.”

You smile and offer a tired chuckle, brushing his hair back from his face. “Y’know, for someone usually so calculated and knowing, you sure are stupid,” you shake your head softly. “I love you, too. More, actually.”

His lips press against your temple, and he exhales slowly, the tension in his body finally easing. “Not possible,” he murmurs again, his voice soft. You can hear his smile in it. “Nobody’s ever loved anyone like I love you.”

༒︎ Toji Fushiguro ༒︎

You aren’t sure if dragging Toji to your high school reunion is a brilliant idea or the worst decision you’ve made all year. On one hand, you know he can charm the socks off anyone when he wants to, all cocky smirks and lazy grins that send shivers down your spine. On the other hand, he doesn’t exactly thrive in situations that involve niceties and polite small talk—especially with people he doesn’t give a shit about. Still, you’ve convinced him, mostly because you want to show him off. He’s hot, and he’s yours. What’s the point if you can’t gloat a little?

Toji is surprisingly well-behaved for most of the evening. He nurses a glass of bourbon with his usual swagger, leaning against the bar and throwing you looks that tell you that he’ll be waiting for you to make this worth his while later. He even manages to avoid scaring off too many of your old classmates, though you catch the occasional side-eye when he’s not so subtle about telling them to fuck off. Everything’s going smoothly.

That is, of course, until he notices you talking to him.

You don’t mean to bump into your ex-boyfriend. Really, you don’t. But there he is, standing near the drink table with the same easy grin you remember from your teenage years. He calls your name, and before you can stop yourself, you’re smiling back and walking over. Toji’s gaze burns into your back the entire way.

“Wow, you look amazing,” your ex says, his tone warm but casual. It’s just an observation— a compliment between old friends, but you can just feel the way Toji’s teeth grind from across the room.

“Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you reply, keeping your tone light. The conversation flows easily, filled with harmless reminiscing about old high school antics. Nothing romantic. Nothing serious. Just memories of embarrassing pranks, favorite teachers, and the god-awful cafeteria food.

But you know Toji. You don’t have to look to know he’s watching, his sharp green eyes narrowing every time your ex laughs or steps just a little too close. You can practically hear the internal dialogue: “Who the fuck does this guy think he is?”

Then your ex does it. The thing you know is going to push Toji over the edge.

He hugs you.

It’s quick and friendly, a casual embrace to say goodbye. But as soon as your ex’s arms wrap around you, you feel your body being eaten up by your boyfriend’s shadow. You pull back quickly, about to turn to Toji to defuse whatever storm is brewing, but it’s too late.

He moves quickly— silent and deadly. One second, he’s leaning against the bar. The next, he’s standing behind you, his presence towering and suffocating. His hand rests on the back of your neck, deceptively casual as he leans in close.

“I dunno why yer touchin’ her, pal,” Toji drawls, his voice low and dangerous, “but don’t let it happen again.”

Your ex blinks, clearly startled by the sudden shift in atmosphere. “I… sorry? I was just saying goodb—”

Toji’s hand moves and you worry he may actually hit the poor guy. “Oh, shit.”

“You gonna say goodbye, then get the fuck outta here,” Toji says, his grin sharp and feral as he subtly lifts his sweater just enough to reveal the gun tucked into his waistband. “Before I decide you don’t need yer legs.”

Your ex’s eyes go wide and he stumbles over himself to retreat, mumbling something about it being nice to see you before practically sprinting away. You don’t even have time to scold Toji before security is suddenly very interested in the two of you.

Five minutes later, you’ve been escorted out of the venue, Toji’s hand resting possessively on the small of your back. You wait until you’re alone in the parking lot to whirl on him.

“Seriously?” you hiss, smacking his arm. “You pulled a gun on him?!”

“Relax, doll,” Toji says, his grin infuriatingly smug. “I didn’t even take it out.”

You groan, stomping toward the car. You reach for the passenger door, but before you can open it, his arm shoots out, blocking your path.

“Nah,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “Yer sittin’ in the back with me.”

“What, am I in trouble now? Gonna spank me?” you ask sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Toji doesn’t answer. He just opens the back door and shoves you inside, sliding in next to you and shutting the door behind him. You cross your arms, giving him a pointed glare. It doesn’t take long before he’s sulking.

He leans back against the seat, legs spread wide, and huffs like an overgrown child. “Wasn’t jealous,” he mutters.

You snort. “Sure you weren’t.”

“Ain’t funny,” he grumbles, glaring at you.

You can’t resist pushing him just a little further. “If you’re not jealous, then you won’t mind if I go back inside to grab his number. Y’know, for old times’ sake.”

His head snaps toward you, his jaw tightening. In one quick motion, he turns, caging you against the seat with his arms. “The fuck you just say?”

“You heard me,” you say, smirking. “If you’re not jealous, it shouldn’t bother you.”

Toji’s eyes narrow, and the tension in the car shifts again, but this time it isn’t anger. It’s something else entirely. He leans in until his nose brushes yours, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“Ain’t about bein’ jealous,” he says, his breath warm against your lips. “Ain’t nobody else touchin’ my girl. Don’t care what reason they have.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you closer as his lips ghost along your jawline. His touch is possessive, his grip firm enough to leave no room for argument. You can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Toji…” you start, but he cuts you off with a low chuckle.

“Nah, you’ve been mouthin’ off thinkin’ yer cute,” he says, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Time to shut that pretty mouth o’ yours.”

He's enjoying himself, towering over you in the confined space of the car, the sunlight streaming in from the windows only highlighting the wolfish grin that spreads across his face.

“You’re so—”

"Hm?" He hums, his hand already snaking down your side, easily slipping under the hem of your dress as he plants a kiss onto the side of your neck. "Y' got somethin' t' say, doll?" 

His fingers dance on your skin, inching closer and closer to the spot he knows will make you weak in the knees. He's toying with you, getting a kick out of your restraint as you try to formulate words again. But before you can finish even a syllable, he cuts you off.

"Save it, sweetheart. Was gonna be nice 'nd all when we got home t’night, but you had to go and run that pretty mouth with yer ex." He growls lowly in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “So while yer getting yer brains fucked stupid, I want you t’remember… this is on you.”

With a rough grasp, he flips you onto your stomach in the backseat, your dress riding up your ass as he yanks your panties down with a swift tug, the cool air hitting it and making your hole clench around nothing. His dick is hard and straining against his pants, pre seeping through to form a dark spot. The anticipation of what's to come has your breath hitching, heat pooling between your legs. He leans over you, the weight of his body pressing down onto yours.

He’s rutting against your ass, one hand sliding up to toy with one of your nipples while his other hand massages your hip. God, if you could see the needy little look on your face right now, then he’d finally get you to understand just why he’s so addicted to you. You’re just so gluttonous for him. Always wanting more, more, more. And of course, he’s always willing to give.

But right now isn’t the moment for giving. No, he needs to take. To take and take and take until there’s no more left of you to give to anyone but him. Always him. He backs away just enough for him to unzip his pants, his cock springing free. His hand finds it immediately, stroking himself in slow, teasing motions, hard length throbbing against your bare ass. There's a devilish grin on his face as he utters, "Gonna show ‘er how much she needs me."

Without waiting for a response, he aligns himself with your sobbing cunt, teasing your folds with his thick head just swiping back and forth and mixing his pre into your skick. He groans at the contact, his hand gripping your hip tighter. Suddenly, with a swift thrust, he plunges himself deep, his girth stretching you so mind numbingly good that you fear you may just pass out. The thing is, he’s barely in, but the sensation is already overwhelming, causing you to gasp and buck your hips.

He wishes you knew how fucking good you feel. Wishes you knew that whenever he fucks you, that tight ring of resistance tries so hard to push him out. That is, until he’s fucked his fat tip into you a few times, because then you’re practifally sucking him in. He knows the stretch is a lot. Knows you’re sore hours later without fail and yet, you still beg for more. Just like now.

Words are failing you, but your look is enough. You want more. Need more than just his tip. You wanna be broken in. And so he does. He feeds you inch after inch of him, sitting up and pausing at the halfway point to admire the way your cunt looks swallowing him so eagerly. He grasps at the globes of your ass, jiggling them and biting his lower lip at the God granted sight.

His free hand moves to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair before he grips tightly and brings your head up so he can press your face into the window. And just light that, he fucks the rest of himself into you roughly, grunting.

"Fuckin’— take it," he rasps out, taking a brief moment to adjust to the feeling of your tightness around him, unable to resist a little moan of his own. Then, he starts moving. Slow and punishing at first, then picking up speed with the same punishing force. Each thrust is precise and purposeful, perfectly hitting that spot inside you that makes you feel fuzzy. He's unabashedly vocal too, grunting and groaning with each delicious slide in and out of your wetness. "Fuck... y' take my cock so good..." he compliments, pushing your face harder into the back window. 

Easing up on his grip on your waist, he rolls his hips, grinding against your ass before pulling out for just a moment to slap his tip against your folds, watching as your cunt twitches and then thrusting back in again. His actions are deliberate and controlled, meant to stir you up and drive you to your limit. 

"Please baby, please, please, please..." you moan helplessly, your words swallowed up by the sounds of your bodies slapping together and his grunts of pleasure. But he merely chuckles darkly, gripping your hip and pressing your face against the window harder as if to anchor himself and punish you at the same time, his thrusts never faltering. 

"Y' can gimme more than that," he teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans down, teeth nibbling at your exposed neck. 

He slows almost to a stop, but the slight shallow thrusts still feel so overwhelmingly good you think you’re gonna go insane. “Y’really think she could live without me? Mmm mm, no, she needs me. I’m the only one who can stuff this greedy little pussy the way she needs to be stuffed. Isn’t that right, baby? Say it f’me.”

“F-fuck! Toki, gonna—” SMACK!

“Not talkin’ to you, princess. Talkin’ to her.” He delivers a pointed thrust into you to emphasize the fact that he’s genuinely talking to your cunt in his pussydrunk state.

Your sure he’s left a permanent handprint because of how hard he spanked your ass. The sting that lingers where his palm landed makes your cunt twitch and ache around him, which he considers to be answer enough. “S’what I fuckin’ thought. Atta fuckin’ girl, yes baby.” He groans, quickening the pace ever so slightly and beginning to pull you back into him to meet his thrusts.

“Talkin to an ex, y’must have wanted to get yerself fucked stupid, hm? Is that what you wanted? To be fucked like this?” He’s talking, but you can tell it isn’t for actual answers, no, it’s more to himself. He’s fucked out. So close to the edge.

The thrusting quickens, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "Cum f' me, doll," he commands, his voice dropping an octave, "show me how good I make y' feel. Only me. And then I’m gonna breed yer cute cunt so good." With that, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, aiming for that spot inside you that will unravel you completely.

That’s when you finally let loose, the coil inside your tummy snapping and letting you feel so much pleasure that you’re moving your ass back into him with a force that’s unmatched, just swallowing him deep into you over and over again. And that does it for him— his cum spurting inside you and filling you so good.

He kisses you so hungrily you feel you may just lose your breath entirely and pass out. His hands are holding you in place so you don’t fuck back onto him, because he knows if you did, he’d break you.

Toji leans back, smirking at the sight of you, his thumb brushing your swollen lips.

“You done throwing your little tantrum?” you tease, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

He glares at you, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re real fuckin’ funny, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.” And deciding to drop the bombshell now, you lean back against the seat and say casually, “By the way, he’s married. To a man. They have two kids.”

Toji freezes, his expression shifting from smug to incredulous in seconds. He blinks like a cartoon character in shock, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“Yup,” you say, your grin widening. “Your big, scary display of dominance? Totally unnecessary.”

He huffs, running a hand through his hair. The look on his face is so priceless you wish you could brand it into your memory. “Tch. Coulda fuckin’ said somethin’ sooner.”

“And miss all the fun?” You laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Before you can say anything else, he’s on you again, his hands roaming as he mutters, “Gonna make you pay for makin’ me start a scene.”

You laugh, the sound cutting off into a gasp as his hands find their mark. “I made you start a scene? Oh, this I gotta hear.” You say, your voice breathless but still teasing.

“Keep talkin’, doll,” he says, his grin turning wicked. “See where it gets ya.” And then his lips are finding yours again. Just like that, the argument is forgotten, lost in the haze of his possessive, consuming affection.

༒︎ Choso Kamo ༒︎

The mall is crowded, loud with the hum of chattering voices and echoing footsteps. It isn’t your favorite place to hang out, but your best friend had begged you to come along. Somehow, Choso ended up tagging along too, though you weren’t sure why. He wasn’t exactly the mall type, after all— too quiet, too detached from the bustling energy of human spaces like this.

You glance over your shoulder at him now, and there he is, just like you’d expect. He’s trailing a few steps behind, hands shoved into the sleeves of his robe, his dark eyes drifting lazily over the crowd. His usual stoic mask is firmly in place, making him seem untouchable to anyone passing by. But you know better than that. Beneath the unapproachable aura, Choso is awkward— painfully shy even. He’s still figuring out how to interact with humans, still trying to understand what it means to live in a world like this.

And for some reason, he’s decided you’re his safe space.

You smile to yourself, turning your attention back to the task at hand. Your friend had told you they’d meet you at the bookstore, but they’re running late, so you decide to wander into one of the nearby shops to kill time.

Choso doesn’t follow. You assume he’s probably going to find a dark corner to tuck himself into. 

What you don’t realize is that he does follow. At a distance. He’s used to watching from the sidelines, content to let you move through your world without interference. He doesn’t mind, in fact, he learns from watching how you interact with people, animals, media, and the likes. He learns about the world, but more importantly, he learns about you.

His eyes are on you now, but just seconds later, they shift. There’s a new focus, a new target. Him.

The guy behind the counter at the little boutique you walked into. He’s tall, clean-cut, and obnoxiously friendly. At first, Choso thinks nothing of it. It’s not like he can stop every stranger from talking to you. But as the guy’s gestures become more animated, and his laughter gets a little too familiar, something shifts in Choso’s chest.

He wishes he could hear whatever it is he’s saying that has you so giddy. Wishes he could just— wait, what?

The guy leans forward across the counter, his hand brushing yours as he hands you something, maybe a receipt, maybe a bag, Choso doesn’t care. Because what he does next is what hammers the nail in the coffin. His hand moves to the top of your head and he ruffles your hair, making you laugh. It’s the casual intimacy of the gesture that makes his stomach churn. He knows he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He knows. But he can’t help the way his jaw tightens, or the way his fingers curl into fists in his sleeves.

You’re still smiling at the guy. You’re laughing. And he hates it.

His mind spirals before he can stop it. The scene plays over and over in his head, each time twisting into something worse. What if you like this guy? What if you’re into someone who can flirt with ease, someone who doesn’t stumble over their words or overthink every little thing?

What if you don’t want him?

Choso feels a sharp pang in his chest, like something fragile has cracked. He’s been so careful, so guarded with his feelings. He thought he could keep them tucked away, safe from rejection, safe from ruining this. But now? Now he feels them slipping through the cracks, raw and unmanageable.

He looks away, leaning back against the wall outside the store. His heart’s racing, though he doesn’t know why. It’s not like he has any claim over you. You’re your own person, free to talk to whoever you want. He’s just… He’s just the weird half-curse with no idea what his place is in this world who follows you around and doesn’t know how to say what he feels. But what if he did say it?

The thought hits him like a lightning bolt, sudden and electrifying. He’s scared, sure— terrified, actually, but the idea of staying silent is worse. He doesn’t want to lose you to someone else, not without at least trying.

So he waits.

When you finally walk out of the shop, you’re holding a small bag, a content smile on your face. You spot him instantly, standing off to the side like he’s been there the whole time.

“Hey, sorry that took so long. They had some really cute stuff in there,” you say, holding up the bag as if to explain.

Choso doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flick to the shop behind you, then back to your face. He doesn’t ask about your purchases. Instead, he asks, “Who was that?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to,” he says, his tone as flat as ever, but there’s something behind it—a tension you can’t quite place.

“Oh, him? That’s just my friend from school. He works here part-time,” you explain, shrugging. “I didn’t even know before now.”

Your words are casual, but they allow Choso a wave of relief. That relief is short-lived, however, replaced almost immediately by a surge of determination. This is his chance. His moment to say what he’s been holding back.

“Can I… talk to you for a second?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You tilt your head, curious but not concerned. “Of course. What’s up?”

He gestures for you to follow him, leading you away from the bigger crowd and toward a seating area deeper in the mall that’s less populated. Once you’re there, he turns to face you, his hands still buried in his sleeves.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He’s searching for the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, what comes out is raw and unfiltered.

“I thought you liked him,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink, surprised. “What? No, Choso, I told you, he’s just a friend.”

He nods, but his gaze drops to the floor. “I know. It’s just… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” you ask gently.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes searching yours. “This. Any of this. Being around people. Trying to figure out how I’m supposed to feel, how I’m supposed to act.”

You wait, sensing there’s more he wants to say.

“But with you… it’s different,” he continues, his voice steady despite the nerves etched into his expression. “I don’t feel lost when I’m with you. I feel… human.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t interrupt.

“And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you,” he says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I like you. I… I think I’ve liked you since the moment we met. I just didn’t know how to say it— didn’t know what it was. B-But I do, now.”

You stare at him, his confession hanging in the air between you. For a moment, he thinks he’s made a mistake. That he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross.

But then you smile.

Not just any smile— the kind of smile that makes him feel like the world isn’t so complicated after all.

It’s all you can do because his confession doesn’t catch you off guard, not really.

You’ve always known.

“Cho,” you say softly, stepping closer, “I know. I’ve known for a while.”

His eyes widen slightly, his lips parting in surprise. “You… knew?”

You nod, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah. You’re not exactly subtle, you know. But I didn’t say anything because I wanted to give you time. Time to figure out what you wanted, how you felt.”

He’s silent, staring at you like he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or mortified.

“For what it’s worth,” you continue, your voice warm, “I like you, too. Just as you are. You don’t have to change or be anyone else for me, Choso. I like you for you.”

Something in his expression shifts. It’s now a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something more raw. His gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and when he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “Can I… kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard, not because you don’t want him to, but because of the way he asks it, so tentative and earnest.

“Of course,” you say, your tone gentle but steady.

But he hesitates, his eyes darting to the small crowd around you. His voice drops lower, almost shy. “Not here. Can we… go somewhere else?”

You bite back a smile at how endearing he looks, his cheeks tinted pink as he avoids your gaze. “Come on,” you say, nodding toward a quieter hallway where the restrooms are tucked away.

He follows you like a shadow, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he keeps his head down. When you reach the single-occupancy restroom, you push the door open and step inside, holding it for him as he follows. The door clicks shut, and the noise of the mall fades into a distant hum.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the tension in the small space thick enough to cut with a knife. Choso shifts nervously, his hands twitching at his sides. “I… don’t know how start,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you reply, your smile soft and steady. “Just follow my lead.”

You step closer, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. He freezes for a moment, his dark eyes wide and uncertain, but when you lean in, his lids flutter shut.

The kiss starts slow, tentative, his lips warm and soft against yours. But as you deepen it, something shifts. It’s like a switch flips inside him, and suddenly his hands are on your waist, gripping you like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

He grows bolder with each passing second, his fingers wandering over your arms, your back, your hips, your ass. There’s a desperation in the way he touches you, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you all at once. Finally, he pulls you flush against him, his entire arms wrapped around you, one hand gripping your hip and the other on your shoulder.

You can’t help but chuckle against his lips, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. “Easy, Cho,” you murmur, your tone teasing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face flushed as he loosens his grip, but only slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to stop.”

Your smile softens, and you press a light kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay to feel nervous.”

You kiss him again, this time letting him lead you. As things heat up, he starts to get carried away again, his hands roaming with a mix of urgency and inexperience. His kisses grow hungrier, his breath ragged as he presses closer, his body practically trembling against yours.

Suddenly his whole body stiffens and a low, unsteady sound akin to a whine escapes him before he pulls back, his face burning with embarrassment. He avoids your gaze, his hands falling away as he stammers, “I— I’m sorry. I dunno what— I didn’t want to stop, I—”

You pull back further to see a dark patch beginning to form even on the purple cloth that rests in front of his robes, realizing what happened. Your perfect Choso just came in his pants from kissing you. You can’t stay silent much longer for fear of making him more embarrassed, so you hush him gently, cupping his face and tilting it so he has no choice but to meet your eyes. “Cho, it’s okay,” you say firmly, your voice steady and soothing. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is all new for you, and that’s perfectly fine.”

He swallows hard, his dark eyes searching yours for any hint of judgment or disappointment. When he finds none, his shoulders relax just a little.

“You mean that?” he asks softly.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Of course, I do. We’ll take things slow, okay? There’s no rush.”

He nods slowly, the tension in his posture easing as he lets out a shaky breath. After a moment, he looks at you again, his expression soft but serious. “Is this… what love is?” He closes his eyes, his lips curving into the faintest smile as he leans into your touch. And in that quiet, stolen moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in its place.

༒︎ Ryomen Sukuna ༒︎

The room is dimly lit, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to the air. You’re lying back on the exam table, your dress pulled up over your growing belly. The monitor hums softly as the sonographer, a man with overly polite eyes and a soothingly gentle touch, adjusts the machine. He explains the process as he goes, his voice calm and warm, clearly trying to put you at ease.

Today is your first 3D ultrasound where you’ll finally get a better view of the life growing inside you. It feels surreal. You’ve had to wait until you’re 32 weeks along to get the best view, so the wait has made you antsy. Will it look like Sukuna? You? Will it smile or suck its thumb? Surely it’s too early for that, right? All of these questions are running through your mind and making your body vibrate with both nervousness and anticipation. It actually does help that the sonographer noticed and is trying to soothe you. 

You glance to the corner where Sukuna stands, his towering figure leaned protectively against the wall. His crimson eyes are locked on the sonographer, sharp and unyielding, like a predator stalking prey. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, claws tapping rhythmically on his forearm, a faint sound that portrays his growing irritation. The air feels heavy with tension; thick enough to cut with a knife. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t contribute to your current nervousness.

The sonographer prepares to squirt gel onto your belly, offering you a soft smile. “This might feel a little cold,” he says, his tone careful. “But it’ll help us get a clear image of the baby.”

You flinch slightly at the cold, and the response is immediate.

“Watch your hands.” Sukuna’s voice slices through the room, low and menacing.

The sonographer freezes, visibly startled. His gaze darts nervously to Sukuna. “I- I’m just preparing her to perform the scan, sir. There’s no need to worry.”

Sukuna scoffs, the sound dark and mocking. “Worry? I’m not worried, human. I’m warning you.” His crimson eyes narrow, radiating danger. “You’re touching my wife who’s carrying the heir to my throne. Be mindful.”

You press your palm to your forehead, exhaling sharply. “Ryo,” you say, your tone firm. “He’s doing his job. Stop scaring him.”

Sukuna’s eyes flick to you, softening slightly, but the fire in them doesn’t fully die. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The sonographer hesitates, visibly uneasy, before resuming his work. The wand glides gently over your belly, and the monitor flickers to life. He points out the baby’s heartbeat, their tiny limbs, and the way they seem to kick at nothing in particular. His voice is soothing as he explains, almost too soothing for Sukuna’s liking.

You can see that the baby has four limbs, thankfully, and it’s got a frown on it’s face, much like its father’s. Until you speak, that is. When you speak, you can see the soft smile that graces your sweet baby’s face, again much like its father’s. You feel tears prick at your eyes finally seeing your baby so clearly.

The sonographer glances at you again, his smile almost reverent. “You’re doing wonderfully. Your baby looks perfect— beautiful, actually.”

That does it.

“Beautiful, huh?” Sukuna mutters, his voice laced with venom. “Bet you say that to every woman you see. Must be part of your script. You’re just so reassuring. Well, my wife doesn’t need that. She has me. Do you think yourself better than I?”

“Ryomen.” Your voice sharpens, and you shoot him a glare that tells him you’re angry. “Enough.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his lips curling in mild defiance, but he backs off for now. The sonographer continues, though his hands move a little faster this time, clearly eager to finish. Sukuna’s eyes remain locked on him, every small movement scrutinized like a hawk circling its prey.

Finally, the scan concludes. The sonographer hands you a towel to clean off the gel, offering another polite smile. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sukuna doesn’t give him the chance.

“You’re done, right? Get out.”

The man’s eyes widen; he looks to you as if hoping for an intervention. You manage a tight smile. “Thank you for your help. Forgive my unpleasant husband,” you say pointedly, dismissing him with a polite nod.

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving the two of you alone. Sukuna stands there, still bristling, his claws twitching at his sides.

You sigh, wiping the last of the gel from your belly. “You’re ridiculous, Kuna. He wasn’t touching me in any sort of suspicious way.”

“He shouldn’t have been touching you in the first place,” Sukuna snaps, taking a step closer.

“He’s a medical professional, Ryomen. It’s his job.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “He was too close; too soft. Like he thought he could make you feel safer than I do.”

You sit up, tugging your dress down over your belly. “No one is trying to take your place.”

He scoffs, pacing in front of you like a restless beast. “You’re mine. No one else gets to put their hands on you like that.”

You stand, squaring your shoulders as you step into his path. “Would you rather our child go unchecked and we miss something bad? You can’t scare every single person who helps me, Ryomen.”

His eyes narrow, the frustration in them simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re too soft,” he mutters. “Always making excuses for people who don’t deserve it.”

“Soft doesn’t mean weak,” you counter, standing firm. “And I don’t need you turning every little thing into a fight. Trust me, Ryomen. I’m not going anywhere. But… you’re wrong, you know. I do need comfort. You provide safety, yes, but never reassurance. Gentleness. Maybe just… passive acceptance. I’m carrying your child. Of course I’d like to be doted on and treated with care.”

Before he can get upset again, you add, “By you. Only you. So just— please stop it with the anger and hostility. I want my child to know their father is capable of love the way I know he is.”

The tension in his shoulders loosens slightly, though the possessiveness in his gaze remains. He steps closer, towering over you, his hand coming to rest on your belly. His touch is firm but deliberate, a reminder of who you belong to.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “You. The baby. You’re my dearest prizes. No one else gets to act like they know how to care for you better than I do. I study everything, every minute detail about you and what’s to expect with the child. I suppose I’ve been so wound up with preparing myself and protecting you that I’ve gotten more hostile than usual. I… can work on it.”

You place your hand over his, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Get back on the exam bed.”

“What? Why? He’s finish—” he interrupts you by walking you backwards until your ass hits the edge, caging you in.

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you look carrying my heir and standing up to even me. And I’d like to show you just how much I love it.” He says, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against your neck, just below your jawline. As expected, you tilt your head up for a kiss and he indulges you, kissing you so hungrily and lifting you onto the bed.

His hands wander all over your body, his touch carrying a gentleness you’re not used to. Goosebumps raise on the whole of your body in response and you’re leaning forward into the kiss, losing yourself in it. You don’t even realize he’s hiked your dress up and removed your panties until the cold hits your slick-sheened pussy.

“Ryō—”

“I know, brat, I know.” He says, a teasing lilt in his voice as he parts from your lips to kiss along your jaw. “Come to the edge f’me.”

You do exactly that as he undoes his robes to reveal his second set of arms… and his second mouth. God, you love how freaky this man is. His second set of arms grip the globes of your ass to hold you steady as he pulls you flush against his lower mouth, his fat tongue just smearing your cunt with your slick and his saliva. 

You’ve never cared to admit that this mouth of his has always been your favorite. It’s so big that it offers more coverage, more pressure, and gets so much dee—

“Biiiiig stretch.” Sukuna warns you before he plunges his second tongue into your hole, lingering at that first ring of resistance to deliver a few shallow, but mind numbingly pleasurable thrusts before he pushes the rest of the way in; as much as he can, that is.

He uses the moment your pretty little mouth releases an ah! to kiss you again, his first set of hands slipping up your dress to find your tits. If there’s anything he’d put on top of the list of things he loves about your changing body, it’s this. How fucking thick your ass has become and undeniably huge your tits have grown. Just swelling and preparing to fill with milk to sustain his heir.

He pinches your sensitive nipples between his large fingers, making you moan into the kiss, relaxing your cunt around his tongue between you. Suddenly, you’re lifted just slightly above the table, his other hands beginning to fuck you on his tongue, his saliva and your slick just drip, drip, dripping onto the bed and floor beneath you.

“So greedy. Pussy’s always so fucking greedy…” he groans, resting his forehead against yours so you both can watch as your pussy bulges from swallowing his tongue so eagerly. It’s such a lewd sight, one you’ve undeniably grown addicted to in your time together.

Your moans mingle together and it’s then you realize that he’s now using just one of his hands to fuck you on his tongue. His other is wrapped around both of his cocks and pumping them together, ribbons of pre falling down his lengths and being smeared by his movements. You’re not even slightly ashamed of the way you salivate seeing him getting off while eating your pussy and watching himself do it. It’s so fucking filthy that you can’t help but—

“Gonna cum f’me, aren’t you? Mmmmmhm, can tell by how she’s flutterin’ around my tongue. My needy fucking wife.” He smirks, pulling you flush to him so that the widest part of his tongue rubs against your clit while he switches it up and fucks his tongue into you, faster this time.

“O-Ohmyfuckinggod!” The words come out strung together, the added attention on your clit making you see stars, your breath quickening, heart beginning to race. You lean back onto the bed using your hands to prop you up so you can get a better view.

“So nasty, beautiful.” A chuckle falls from his lips and you can’t even respond before his upper hands are just engulfing your tits and kneading, easing the pain of the swelling and pleasing you at the same time.

Then, something happens. Milk begins to drip from your right nipple and it has you both stopping in your tracks. You’d heard of the low possibility that milk can come before you give birth, but you never considered it’d happen to you. A blush of embarrassment creeps on your face and you’re about to apologize when you hear Sukuna groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mouth immediately latches onto your tit and he just sucks.

“S-Sukuna, fuck!” You whine, his lower tongue beginning to work your quivering pussy again, bringing you right to the edge of pleasure.

He releases your tit with a pop! and nips it gently. “Mine. Mine, mine, all fuckin’ mine, such a good Queen providing for my heir early. Gonna be such a good momma.” He praises you before beginning to suck the lactating nipple again, making you come undone on his tongue, your gooey insides clenching around his tongue, trying to stop him with how tight you are, but he’s too strong, fucking his tongue into you through your orgasm to swallow up every last bit of cum you have to offer him.

It’s not until you’re whining and your legs are limp, weak pushes against his shoulders making him release your tit and slip his tongue from your slobbering hole. He runs the tip of his tongue against your oversensitive clit just a few times before you feel him kiss your puffy folds, making your body lurch.

You watch breathlessly as he tries to suck up the milk from your poor abused nipple again, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging his face up to yours. “Y’know, you’re mine too. Forever. Don’t you forget that.” You smirk.

Something flickers in his eyes— pride, possessiveness, and a touch of vulnerability he’d never admit to. “Damn right I’m yours,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk. “But don’t think that means I’m gonna get soft on people.”

You lean into his hand as he caresses your cheek, a small smile playing at your lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he says, leaning down until his face is inches from yours. His voice drops to a rumble. “Carrying my child. Still standing by me. So brave.”

“Someone has to keep you in check,” you tease, though your voice softens with affection.

He lets out a low chuckle, pressing a possessive kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, well, let’s see if you’re brave enough to take my cocks after cumming like such a good brat f’me.” 

Your eyes widen, feeble hands trying to push him away by his chest, “Kuna! We have to leave, they’re probably traumatized!” You tell him in a hushed tone, suddenly all too aware that you’re in a doctor’s office for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah, well. They can afford the therapy.” He gives you a shit eating grin while thumbing open your cunt. “Open up real wide f’me, baby.”

And as you brace yourself, you remind yourself to make apology rounds to the staff whenever your husband is through with you.

༒︎ Nanami Kento ༒︎

Nanami Kento is tired. Not just the kind of tired you feel after a long day, though God knows his body aches from another grueling shift of paperwork and exorcisms. No, it’s deeper than that. A bone-deep fatigue that comes from too many hours spent away from the one person he’d rather be with. You.

He steps through the door, loosening his tie with one hand and holding his briefcase in the other. The house is warm and smells faintly like the lavender candle you always light in the evenings. It feels like home, but he quickly notices something’s off.

Your voice carries down the hall, light and warm, tinged with laughter. It’s a sound that usually has his shoulders relaxing, but tonight, there’s an edge of tension beneath it that prickles at him. He sets his things down quietly, toeing off his shoes, and listens.

“Yeah, it’s been kind of lonely lately,” you say, and he freezes in place, his hand hovering above the coat rack. “I mean, I get it. Nanamin works so hard and I love him for it, but… I don’t know. I just miss him. I feel like I barely see him anymore.”

His chest tightens. You’re talking about him. He takes a slow, measured breath and steps closer, rounding the corner silently.

“Thank you for keeping me sane, though. Honestly, if I didn’t have someone to talk to, I’d probably be climbing the walls by now.” There’s a soft laugh on the other end of the line. Gojo’s laugh. The realization is instant and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Gojo. Of course, it’s Gojo. His coworker, the occasional thorn in the side, the most insufferable man he knows. And apparently the one you’ve been leaning on while he’s been too busy drowning in work.

Kento feels his jaw tighten, his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He knows— logically, rationally— that there’s nothing going on between you and Gojo. You’d never betray him like that and Gojo, for all his teasing, would never cross that line. But the knot of jealousy twisting in his chest doesn’t care about logic.

You must have heard him shift uncomfortably because you glance over your shoulder, startled. Your expression softens when you see him and you give him a small, almost sheepish smile. “Hey, Kento just got home,” you say into the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Nanami doesn’t miss the way Gojo’s laugh sounds out one last time before you hang up. He doesn’t say anything as you set your phone on the counter, but his silence is heavy. You know him well enough to recognize it immediately.

“Ken,” you say softly, stepping toward him. “Long day?”

He hums in acknowledgment, his gaze steady on you. It’s not cold, but there’s something simmering behind it; something that makes you hesitate. “Gojo?” he asks finally, his voice calm but with an edge you can’t ignore.

You blink, caught off guard by his demeanor. “Yeah. He was just checking in. He knows I’ve been home alone a lot lately.”

“Does he?” His tone is even, but the sharpness is undeniable.

You frown, crossing your arms. “Nanami, it’s not like that. He’s a friend. Our friend. You know that.”

“I do.” And he does. He knows it’s innocent. But that doesn’t make it easier to hear you laughing and confiding in someone else while he’s been too busy to do the same.

“Ken.” Your voice softens and you reach for him, your hand brushing his arm. “Please don’t do this. Don’t beat yourself up or think anything crazy. I’m not mad at you for working so much. I know why you do it. I know it’s for us. But… it’s hard sometimes. That’s all I meant.”

“I hate that you feel like this,” he says quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That you have to go to someone else when I should be here.”

You step closer, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. “You’re here now,” you murmur, trying to pull him out of his head. “That’s what matters. That you always come back to me as soon as you can.”

He looks at you, something dark and conflicted in his eyes. “Is it enough?” he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Am I enough? Or would you rather have a husband who has more time for you?”

Your heart breaks at the vulnerability in his voice. “Kenny,” you say firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Always.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly and his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s hungry. Desperate. As if he’s trying to make up for all the time he’s spent away from you in one moment.

You gasp against his mouth and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding down to the globes of your ass and gripping tightly. When he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll change for you,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “No more late nights. No more overtime. I’ll cut my hours. Whatever it takes to be here with you.”

“Ken, you don’t have to—”

“I do.” His hands slide under your shirt, his touch firm but gentle as he lifts it over your head and lets it fall to the floor. “I won’t let you feel like you’re second to anything. Ever again. You’re too precious to me. My world. My heart. My wife.”

His lips find your neck, trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone. He moves with a purpose, his hands exploring your skin as if to reacquaint himself with every inch of you. It’s more than physical— it’s a promise.

You tug at his tie, fumbling with the knot until he helps you pull it free and rips off his button-down. Then his hands are on you again, guiding you toward the bedroom.

“Lay back for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding but with an undercurrent of tenderness that makes your pulse race.

You obey, sinking onto the bed as he leans over you, his lips finding yours again. His touch is both reverent and possessive, his movements careful but insistent. Every kiss, every caress feels like an apology and a vow wrapped into one.

He wraps a hang around your throat, squeezing for one fleeting moment before trailing it down your chest, between your breasts, down your stomach, over your pubic bone, and finally under your nightgown to meet your slick riddled cunt.

“Shit,” he hisses, forehead resting against yours while he catches his breath, his fingers slipping back and forth between your folds, teasing at your clit in passes. “My love… I don’t want to waste any time, I just need t’feel you. Normally I’d ea—”

“I know, handsome, s’okay, I’m ready, I can take it.” You reassure him, knowing he was going to apologize for not properly warming you up.

You see, Nanami has always been one for foreplay. He could slurp up your saccharine slick for hours upon hours if you let him, but tonight? Tonight, he just wants to be one with you.

His hand finds one of yours and he intertwines your fingers, his other hand working to free his cock from the suffocating confines of his pants. When it springs free, it’s just throbbing an angry pink, beads of pre forming at the tip now that his dress pants aren't there to absorb them.

He aligns himself with your painfully empty hole, pushing past that first little ring of resistance with a long groan. The grip he has on your hand tightens, his knuckles turning white as he feeds you inch after mind numbing inch of his cock until his tip’s kissing your cervix. But you know his body well enough to know that isn’t it. And so you brace yourself for him to push in to the hilt, his mushroom tip ever so slightly bullying open your cervix as he does so, making you yelp out in both pleasure and pain.

His lips swallow your whines and whimpers, he’s determined to take everything you have to offer and give you more than what he has. The world, if you asked. His free hand finds purchase on your hip and he holds you steady as he starts to roll his hips into yours, passionately. Roughly. Like he’s trying to stuff you full of all of the love he has for you.

You moan out, reaching your own free hand up to cup his cheek, your legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his back, effectively telling him you need more. With every thrust after, you can’t help but gasp. You feel him in your lungs stealing every bit of breath you have, reddened leaking tip repeatedly hitting that bullseye that makes your mind go stupid.

“K-Ken, feels s’good! Hah!” You whine out, back arching up and pressing you flush to him. He moves his hand from your hip to wrap his arm around you, effectively holding your bottom half in the air to get deeper inside of you.

“Mine. My wife. My wife, my love, my beautiful, m-my heart.” He’s babbling, burying his head into your neck and pressing hot, wet, open mouthed kisses to it. You feel him slip his hand from yours and instead, he has the top of your head in the palm of his hand, using it to keep you still, but also to anchor himself so he doesn’t let you slip through his fingers.

“You’re going to be such a beautiful mom. Wh—hah, what kind of husband have I been by not trying to give you my babies? We can start now. After I cum riiiiight here.” He babbles, his other hand moving for only a second to press down where your stomach bulges with his thrusts.

And the look in his eyes tells you this is a promise, not just something he’s saying while fucking you. Just like the perfect little thing you are, you cum for him right then, dragging a long and frustrated groan from him.

“Pussy’s always so good for me. Milking me so good, my love…” he shudders as you cum on his throbbing length.

“Ken, f—fuh— fuck! Cum in me! Please, baby, cum in me!” You beg, making him chuckle.

“Oh? You think I’m done? No, I have to make up for lost time. Evert second I missed, I’ll make up for with an equal amount of time spent buried in this beautiful cunt of yours. Understood?”

And oh are you so incredibly fucked.

[dwaekkicidal]

cw» fem!reader, kitty hybrid reader x puppy hybrid!channie, mentions of p in v, manhandling, there’s a few more but nothing too crazy/out of the blue

cw» not really proofread, but this is for that one anon who asked for kitty reader a few months ago <3 sorry it took so long

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

pup!channie who was very against his owner adopting another hybrid, let a lone a cat of all species. but it's not like he has much of a say in it- it's supposed to be his new "friend" so he's not alone while his owner is at work all day!

pup!channie who scares you shitless before you two even meet. your new owner warned you and told you all kinds of scary things about the dog you'll be living with from now on

but queue faces of surprise, from all 3 of you, when chan's face burns red and his tail starts wagging aggressively the second he sees you

pup!channie who gets addicted to your scent from day 1. he just loooves the way you smell. that and your endearingly cute demeanor only leads to him quickly growing a little crush on you~

pup!channie who surprises you and your owner when he opens his space to you right off the bat- with little to no aggressiveness coming from the boy.

pup!channie who welcomes you with open arms, even going far enough to allow you to lay (and sleep with him) in his bed. your owner was scared at first but quickly grew to trust chan enough that he didn't bother getting you your own bed- simply allowing you to sleep with chan

pup!channie who stares daggers into every person, human or hybrid, who even glances your way. your pretty head is never worried about anything enough to notice the stares, but chan has eyes of a hawk when it comes to you.

pup!channie who scents you unbeknownst to you. sneakily scenting you and your clothes to the point where it's just a natural smell to you- you don't question where it comes from anymore now that you're conditioned to live in the smell- but the smell follows you everywhere enough to scare other hybrids away

pup!channie who is SO easily jealous and refuses to let anybody near you. your owner has to muzzle HIM when you go to the doctor because the mere thought of strangers being so close to you, maybe even touching you makes him seethe.

^ and this is even worse when your owner brings their friends around. the onslaught of questions like "ohh how did you get that mutt to tolerate your new, pretty kitty" was already enough to piss him off, but when the friends try to touch you, he sees red. he actually loses all sense of rationality and will bite the person if they don't back away within his first growl.

and all of this is innocent at first! until its not.

it loses all innocence when mating season comes around, and you both discover your owner wasn't responsible enough to account for the clash of hormones. they thought about the possibility of you getting pregnant and put you on birth control "just in case", but they didn't take into account that the hormones would still be there in full force.

and that leads to what happened at the beginning of the week. your owner is out on a business trip that just so happens to be 2 weeks long, and channie has begun to feel the first signs of his heat. but it wasn't until he came home from a short grocery outing, and smelt your scent for the first time in hours, that he realized his heat was hitting him.

it wasn't until he was standing the doorway of your shared room, groceries long forgotten on the kitchen floor, that he felt the heat start coursing through his veins.

it wasn't until he had your face shoved into the sheet, balls deep in your cunt, that the emotions started to hit him.

"C-Channie! Slow down, p-please-" He shushes you and thrusts harder, his balls slapping against your clit each time he bottoms out. "Pretty kitty- MY pretty kitty."

"Chan~" Your whines only made him growl and push into you harder. He was using both hands to hold you down, one in your hair and the other on your shoulder, but he trailed the lower of the two down to your ass after some time.

His hand comes down on your ass suddenly, making you yelp out of surprise. The yelp turns into a moan when his hand wraps around the base of your tail and tugs.

"A-Ah!?" He doesn't release it. Instead, he tightens his hold on your tail and continues to lightly tug on it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. Your hand that's not tangled in the sheets goes behind to push his hand away and Chan growls again, releasing your hair to dig his hands into your wrist and hold it above your head in order to get you to stop resisting him.

"You're gonna take it, right baby? Gonna let me fuck you full of my pups?" You attempt to push yourself up with your free hand, only to fall back down when his canines dig into the side of your neck. "Answer my fucking question before I lose my patience, kitty."

"Yes! I'll take it all. Anything for you, Channie…” You could feel the smirk break out against your neck, and it seems like your promise was enough to scratch an itch in his stupid dog brain.

now, days into his heat, you feel your own heat starting up- no doubt thanks to the restless hound that was adamant about rearranging your insides and trying to get you pregnant.

the two of you had barely left the room by the mid point of the next week. your owner had to call in a friend to bring you guys food every night- at first they weren't really aware of what was going on thanks to the vague texts chan sent (in the middle of you riding him, might i add), but boy could his friend smell the sex from the front door.

and channie had absolutely no plan to stop fucking you, even as your owner's friend poked their head in to check on you two for your owner. he simply gave them the nastiest side eye and tightened his grip around your neck, seemingly fucking into you even harder as he held eye contact and growled at the person to leave.

and then once they did leave, he continued fucking you as if the world was ending and the two of your would never see each other again.

“Attagirl, baby. Take this knot and Channie’ll breed your pains away.”

Taglist (red=can’t be tagged):

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @honeyybbuubblleess

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams @velvetmoonlght

@aeri-skzver

[eufezco]

TOLERATE IT 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

oldman!logan x fem!reader

synopsis – the struggles with the growing distance between you and logan and holding on to a man who has already let go.

a/n – kinda inspired by tolerate it by taylor swift.

angst.

logan was late again, though you’d stopped watching the clock weeks ago. time became meaningless when each hour felt like a reminder of how far apart the two of you had grown. he was late and you thought you preferred it this way, because when he was home, it was worse.

when he was home, he didn’t look at you, like you weren’t even there. he didn’t talk to you, offering only brief replies or silence. the man who once made you feel seen, known, and loved was now a shadow. at least when he was gone, you didn’t have to feel the sting of being invisible in your own home.

the sound of the front door opening startled you from your thoughts.

you'd been cooking dinner for him, if you stayed busy, maybe you could ignore the ache in your chest, the endless questions you no longer dared to ask. his heavy steps echoed down the hall, the unmistakable smell of alcohol followed him into the room like an unwelcome guest.

you turned toward the hall, his eyes, bloodshot, avoided yours.

—hey, —you said softly, your voice tentative.

he didn’t answer, just grunted as he moved past you and toward the chair where he always dropped his jacket.

—i've cooked you dinner, —you tried again, forcing a smile.

—not hungry.

the smile disapeared , your lips trembling slightly as you looked at him. —logan, you’ve barely eaten anything lately, —you said, your voice quieter.

—i said i’m not hungry, —he repeated, the irritation in his voice unmistakable. he didn’t even turn to face you, his focus already on loosening his tie.

you stood there for a moment, clutching the edge of the plate, so hard that you thought it would break under your fingers. the meal you’d poured so much effort into, the carefully laid table—it all felt pointless, like shouting into a void. you opened your mouth to respond, to say anything but your eyes caught on the smudge of red on the collar of his shirt. the words died on your lips, and your stomach twisted as realization hit. lipstick.

—logan? —you said, barely above a whisper.

he followed your line of sight, his expression hardening when he saw what had caught your attention. —don’t start, —he said, his voice low and warning.

—don’t start? —you repeated in disbelief. —logan, there’s lipstick on your collar. you—

—i don’t want to do this right now, —he interrupted, his voice rising slightly, frustration etched into every word.

—but... —you tried again. then you noticed how his hair was more disheveled than usual, how some buttons on his shirt were undone. ever since things started to go wrong with logan, you always had a sneaking suspicion that he was seeing other women. most of the times you didn't say anything, not because you didn’t care, but because the thought of confronting him felt more terrifying than the suspicion itself. you had convinced yourself that if this was the price you had to pay to keep him by your side, you would pay it.

but when you confronted him, he’d deny it—nothing was going on. you wanted to believe him, you tried to believe him. but you knew that something was off. there were things you couldn’t ignore and that he didn't care enough to hide, like the way he would smell different when he came home some nights—like someone else’s perfume clung to his shirt.

—i came from work fucking tired and you are trying to start a fight! these things—these things you do are what makes it so goddamn exhausting to be near you.

you didn’t just drop the plate on the floor, you smashed it. the plate carefully prepared, a gesture of love but now, just like everything else, it was broken beyond repair. without thinking, you stepped forward, closing the space between you and him, your breath coming hard and fast, your fist tight with anger.

his expression was unreadable at first, a flicker of annoyance clouding his features, but beneath it, there was something else—something like intrigue, as if he was daring you to keep going, to show him just how much he had hurt you. your pressed your finger against his chest, steady and defying.

—you don’t deserve a fucking thing I gave you, —you spat, your voice laced with fury that you had been keeping to yourself for far too long. his lips parted as if to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. —what a shame that this mutation of yours is taking so long to kill you and that i have to be the one to suffer all the shit you are rotting in.

silence settled between you after those words. for a few seconds, you both just stood there, locked in each other’s gaze. his eyes were hard, unreadable, and you couldn't see anything shifting. no sign of regret, no sign of guilt.

—are you done? —he said finally, his tone flat, almost bored, as if your pain was just another inconvenience in his already exhausting day.

you made your way to the bedroom. as you passed him, you bumped your shoulder against his and logan closed his eyes and shook his head. you didn't let the tears fall from your eyes just yet. you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

you collapsed in your shared bed. the sheets smelled faintly of him, even though it had been weeks since the last time he slept there, a cruel reminder of the distance between you. the sobs broke free, quiet and muffled at first, but then louder.

and he heard you from the living room.

you knew he did and you waited, even as your tears soaked the pillow, hoping—praying—that you’d hear the sound of his footsteps approaching. that he’d walk through the door, sit on the edge of the bed, and pull you into his arms like he used to. that he’d say something—anything—to let you know he still cared, still saw you.

but he didn't come.

instead, you heard the clink of his whiskey glass, the quiet sound of him trying to drown out the reality with alcohol. his attempts to ignore the sound of your sobs failed. but still, logan didn’t move.

the tears eventually took over and you fell asleep.

logan picked up the shattered pieces of the plate from the floor and then went into your room. you felt his arm slide across your back, pulling you closer to him, the warmth of his skin too familiar, too intimate, but it felt wrong now, like a cruel mockery of what it used to be. you whined and tried to push his arm away, your body tensed, trying not to surrender to the moment, and shook, trying to make it clear that you didn’t want him to touch you.

—don’t, —you muttered, still half asleep. —don’t touch me.

yet he could feel how it instinctively molded to his. your body remembered him, the way you used to fit together.

—quit it, —logan said, his voice low and rough. his arm tightened around you, firmly, to keep you from pulling away. then, just as quickly, his hold softened, arms relaxing as they hugged you.

he stayed there all night, his arm around you, holding you close in a way that felt almost natural. for the first time in what felt like forever, his breathing steadied, the weight of exhaustion pulling him into a deep sleep. you relaxed into his embrace but when you woke up the next morning, the bed felt cold. you turned, reaching out instinctively and the space where he had been was empty.

he was gone. but it wasn't surprising, not really. you should've known that he wouldn’t stay. he had always been a man who left—left conversations unfinished, left wounds unhealed, left you in pieces. what was truly surprising, more than his absence now, was the fact that he had been ever there at all.

[rafeshit]

babydaddy!rafe x mom!reader

warnings — MDNI kissing, sexual acts, and tensionn :)

summary — you had a bad date and rafe picks you up on his motorcycle and things get tense

—

you sit across from your date, trying to force a smile as he drones on about his job as an accountant. The conversation has been stilted from the start, and you glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time. You're desperate to get out of here, but your brother topper is busy at work and you can't call him to rescue you like you normally would and your mother was babysitting baby wren, the child you had 3 months ago.

you have been going out on dates every weekend in hopes of finding a fitting father for wren, but anytime you would bring up your baby girl each guy would make a fatal mistake — they would not even consider or shied away from asking questions about the most important person in your life. Which is this dates mistake, he would only talk about himself and what he’s interested in. you needed to leave.

you quickly dial the number of your brother's best friend and your baby daddy, rafe as your last resort. You've only talked to him a few times since the birth of your baby, and that was much better than the no-contact you had with him during your whole pregnancy. the baby was purely a mistake and after some disagreements you had broken up because of his drug usage.

you were so stubborn with him that he hasn’t met his child since the birth. You knew you were wrong for that but you couldn’t trust him, especially with his drug problem but you would update him about her progress and he would beg to see her — to which you were never ready to do. But nonetheless rafe would prove he was clean by monthly drug tests, and if you were honest with yourself you knew it wasn’t just the drugs that was keeping him from wren. It was because you knew that if you saw your baby in his arms you would want him back.

rafe answers on the first ring, and you pray he can sense the urgency in your voice. "rafe, I need a favor. I'm on a really bad date and I need you to come get me." You try to keep your voice low, because you lied to your date saying you had an urgent call that needed to be answered.

"Yeah, I'm on my way. Where are you?" He quickly says. You tell him the name of the restaurant, trying to keep your eyes from meeting your date's annoyed gaze. You hang up the phone and you can tell your date is getting suspicious, and you don't want to make things worse. You try to make small talk, but it's clear he's not buying it. He's getting angry, and you're getting scared.

You wait, feeling more and more trapped as the minutes tick by. Your date seems to sense your restlessness and starts to get agitated, his voice rising as he complains about how rude you're being. You try to stay calm, but your trapped, and you need Rafe to get here fast. You glance around the restaurant, hoping to see him walk through the door, but he's nowhere to be seen.

Finally, you see Rafe pulling up on his motorcycle through the glass of the restaurant. You breathe a sigh of relief as he walks towards you, his eyes scanning the area searching for you. He's dressed in his usual striped t-shirt and jeans, and he looks like a guardian angel sent to rescue you from this nightmare. He spots you and quickly walks over to you, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asks.

You nod quickly, desperate to get out of there. "I'm fine, just want to go." Rafe nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he reaches out to take your arm.

That's when your date decides to intervene. He grabs your shoulder, spinning you around to face him. "Where do you think you're going?" he sneers. You feel a safe as Rafe's nearby, knowing he would protect you.

He shoves the guy off you, his arm coming between you and your date. "Touch her again and I’ll fuck up your face," he spat, getting the guy to back off. You let out a light gasp as Rafe turns to you, he offers a reassuring smile.

"Come on, let's go," he says, his voice softening as he looks at you. You nod as Rafe takes your hand and leads you out of the restaurant. You can hear your date yelling behind you, but you don't look back. You're safe now, thanks to Rafe.

You follow him to the motorcycle and Rafe hands you a helmet, you put it on and climb onto the back of the bike. Rafe gets on in front of you, and you wrap your arms around his waist, feeling the rumble of the engine beneath you.

before you guys speed off rafe utters, “how’s wren while your out here trying to catch some dick she could’ve been with me, learning who her father is.” you sigh, “she’s with her grandma and I was looking for a father not some fix.”

“why look when you have a perfectly good one here.” He says, revving the engine of his motorcycle. As you speed away from the restaurant, you look back and see your date standing alone in the parking lot, his angry face receding into the distance. the wind whipping through your hair and you cling to Rafes chest.

Your hands roam around his torso, feeling the solid muscles beneath his shirt. You're acutely aware of the tension building between you. Rafe's hand brushes against your leg, ever so softly as he used to do when you guys dated. You glance at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road ahead. You can't help but squeeze him tighter, your grip on his chest growing firmer.

The bike turns into a driveway, and you look around, confused. This isn't your place. Rafe kills the engine, and he gets off the bike and approaches you. He takes off his helmet, then reaches out and removes yours, tossing it across the lawn with a carefree grin. he turns to face you. “this isn’t my place, what are you doing?” You asked.

"You can't touch me like that and expect me not to drive to my place," he says, you try to play it cool, but your words come out stuttering. "W-what?" Rafe takes a step closer, "Do you want me?" he asks. You try to say the right thing, but your mind goes blank.

"We shouldn't..." you trail off, knowing it's a weak excuse. Rafe inches closer, "That's not what I asked. Do you want me?" He says again. You try to deny it, to push him away, but your body betrays you. You nod, barely perceptible, and the word escapes your lips in a whisper. "Yes."

he take no time to lean in, his lips claiming yours in a sensual kiss. Your lips do not break apart as you he walks backwards towards the door of his house, fiddling with the doorknob until he manage to open it. He continues backing up, all the way to the couch in the living room. Your kisses are quick and intense as he tosses off his shirt.

He throws you on his lap and starts biting your lip in between kisses in the more pleasant way possible. His hands, roam from your neck to your back and then to your butt, which he squeezes with intensity.

You begin to grind against him, his hard on rubbing against your clit was only making it better. He tosses you onto the plush cushions beside you and slips off the couch angling his face in between your legs, he slides your lace underwear to the side and begins piping his fingers into you, in which you let out soft moans, taking in the feeling.

He uses his free hand to unzip his pants and begin stroking his dick at the same pace he's pumping his fingers into you. He beings to work his fingers faster and his tongue went to your clit, swirling at a prominent pace, matching the speed with how he is stroking his dick.

Your hands clutch his hair, gripping it with vice. His fingers begin to hit your cervix and your one pump away from comeing. Finally you feel the band in your stomach snap and body begins to shake. He gets up, pushing the tip of his dick into your cunt to come, his hands jerking the rest of his dick off as he pumps his warm come into you, painting your walls white.

Finally he comes to a stop and plops down on the couch next to you, zipping up his pants. "God, that felt so good, I’ve missed you so much." He breathes. You're still catching you breath when suddenly the door knob starts to fiddle and rafe quickly throws on his T-shirt and you slip your underwear to its appropriate place. The door opens and in walks your brother, topper. "Oh! Hey sis what are you doing here?" He asks, holding bags of Chinese food.

You stutter, "had a bad date and rafe picked me up." You innocently smile.

"Yeah we were just sitting here, chattin’" Rafe smiles. “I think we’ve came to an agreement that wren will be in my life a lot more.” he says looking to you for approval, you nod, thinking that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“im glad you two worked things out.” Topper places the Chinese food on the table and claps his hands together, "well who wants to eat!?" You look to rafe and he nods, and three of you enjoy egg rolls and rice.

this made me hungry ngl 🥲

[mintyhollows]

Nam-Gyu x Thanos’ ex gf reader part 1

This is my first ever attempt at writing anything lmao so bear with me pls. I’ve had bits and pieces of this stuck in my head for DAYS and I just had to do something about it. This part is really just setting the tone as mc & Nam-gyu doesn’t even interact lmao. But lmk if this is anything worth continuing.

THANOS IS PROLLY OOC BUT I LOVE ME SOME MEAN THANOS🫶🏼🫶🏼

When life gives you crippling debt, you can’t really afford to make lemonade. And it wasn’t so much life as it was your ex boyfriend who gave you crippling debt either.

You’d left Su-Bong a long time ago, before he adopted the personality of Thanos rather than just the stage name, and you weren’t planning on ever seeing him again. He’d broken you down in so many ways. Convincing you to let him invest your money, promising you he knew what he was doing, promising you he was recovering from his addiction. If only you hadn’t believed him.

Unfortunately, it seems that when life gives you crippling debt, it doesn’t take your plans into consideration. Now you could only hope Thanos had the decency to leave you alone after everything, even if his new friend might not.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first game shook you to your core. You hadn’t known what to expect after accepting some random business card and being somewhat consensually kidnapped to god knows where, but it wasn’t this. The sound of gunshots was still ringing in your ears as you were lead back to the main room, and you didn’t know if it would ever stop. You mindlessly found your way back to your bunk and plopped down, trying to regain some piece of mind.

«Fancy seeing you here»

So much for peace of mind. You looked up and met the eyes of your infamous ex boyfriend. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him, yet he acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

«What do you want?»

«Aw, don’t be such a downer. I always said you ought to live a little, come join the Thanos world and we’ll get through this.»

He gestured behind him, where you could see the rest of his presumed friends pretinding not to listen in on the conversation. You raised an eyebrow at him in annoyance.

«If I remember correctly, I already left both you and the Thanos world quite a while ago. Besides, I didn’t realize you had groupies»

He almost looked sorry for you for a second, but he kept the smirk on his face.

«Oh sweetheart. I’ve always had groupies, you were just too naive to realize that you were one of them»

Had he told you this a few months ago your heart would have shattered, but your resentment for him had only grown in your time apart, and so the only thing affected by his statement was your ego. Not that you were about to let him know that though, so you only shrugged at him as he turned to walk away. But not without calling back to you.

«Offer still stands sweetheart, the games are gonna be boring on your own»

You spent the time leading up to the vote mulling over his offer. However annoying he might be, his offer was tempting. It was his fault you needed money in the first place, so letting him show off and keep you safe during the next game was only fair, right?

Once it was your turn to vote you looked over at him and his little group. Thanos was whispering with who seemed to be his right hand man as they both looked at you in anticipatoon. You made eyecontact with the unfamiliar man and felt something in you click.

‘Player 124, huh? Fuck it’ You thought as you pressed ‘O’.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[genderqueerdykes]

Hi, love your work

I'm a trans girl, and I have something I'd like your help with.

I don't have any of the common sense that I would get from the life experience of being raised as a girl

I'm worried that I'll end up in a dangerous situation because I was oblivious to the risks.

thank you! thanks for stopping by, that's actually a really great thing to ask about! you definitely want to know what you're possibly getting into when it comes to other people treating you. you want to know what to expect and that's good! women have it hard and people can be very invasive

i was raised/socialized as a girl/woman before i transitioned so i can give a bit of insight, since i've been there too. these are just a few tips, it's not a comprehensive list, nor is it in any particular order. just some things to keep in mind!

Safety & General Advice Tips for Trans Women:

First and foremost, try to not let too much of this stress get to you at once. At the end of the day, womanhood can be an extremely varied experience, so your mileage will vary with a lot of these. Try not to get too wrapped up in feeling paranoid of strangers if possible, while there are strangers who can potentially want to hurt you, there are also those who are minding their own business or even support you. It's definitely okay to have your guard up, but it may affect your mental health greatly if you are starting to feel endangered by most people around you.

It's good to be informed, alert and aware, but if it starts getting to a point where the way you feel about strangers is making your quality of life worse, it may be a good idea to take the time to focus on yourself and those who love you to remind you that womanhood isn't always miserable, even though it can feel like it at times. There will still be good moments, whether you're by yourself or with friends, that you can cherish to help alleviate some of the pain that cisheteronormative patriarchy can cause.

You may notice after you come out to others that they start talking down to you, condescending to you, doubting your emotions and experiences, downplaying your struggles, or even being rude and mean about things they weren't that way about before. People have a lot of internalized misogyny and tend to compulsively begin treating a woman or someone they perceive to be a woman like they're incapable of thinking for themselves. This is really common, so if this starts happening to you, try not to let it get to you. You're not too dumb to think for yourself.

People may start to doubt your capability at your job, if you are employed. You may notice a huge shift in respect and how your customers and clients treat you, especially if you work in a male dominated field. People may ask to talk to your cis man/cis man passing coworkers instead of you and it's okay to get angry about this. You may get paid less than your cishet man/cishet man passing coworkers as well and it's okay to be angry about this, too.

Come out slowly so you can adjust and gauge how the people in your life will treat you. When coming out at first, stick to very close friends and family members you have a good relationship with. You can take this as slow or as quickly as you want. But when you're first coming out and unsure of yourself, you don't have to overwhelm yourself by telling the entire world right out of the gates if you don't want to. You can take it at your own pace.

It's up to you whether or not you want to pass as a woman, either in your personal or public life. If you don't want to pass or just don't want to try, that's okay. If passing is vital to your mental health and how you want to be seen, that's also okay. You're allowed to decide how you present and appear. Keeping your safety in mind is also super important, so if you feel the stress of trying to pass as a woman would be too much or even dangerous for you to do so, it's okay to not try to pass. You're also allowed to "look trans," too.

Makeup can and does change how peoples' faces look drastically, so you may find that makeup can help you pass for safety or personal reasons. Even something as simple as eyeliner and mascara can change the way one's face looks. Highlighter & contour used on the cheeks, nose and brow can very much transform one's appearance, and if you have very visible stubble, you can utilize foundation and other products to help mask it when in public or around other people you need to pass for safety or personal reasons.

Most strangers in public generally think that long hair = woman. There are men and other people regardless of gender who wear their hair long, but for passing, safety, or personal reasons, long hair can drastically change how strangers see you.

Layers, flowy and loose fitting clothing help mask certain traits of the body, so if you feel insecure about how strangers perceive certain parts of your body, you may be able to obscure it from strangers' view by wearing a few layers or loose fitting clothes.

You may want to avoid taking long walks in dark places at night alone if possible. It is very much true that it can be unsafe to be out late at night- this can be regardless of your gender- but as a feminine person or woman, there is a genuine risk of being out late at night without someone else around, or being inside of a car. This is a little stereotypical to say, but it is a genuine danger.

If you're out in public and ever feel like someone is stalking or following you and you're alone, pull out your cell phone if you have one and pretend to take a phone call. Talk into your phone like you're speaking to another person, and if necessary, actually call someone else. Generally speaking, someone who wants to cause harm will not want there to be witnesses, especially not someone who can hear what's happening directly and can come over to the scene or call for emergency assistance. Put your best friends, family members and other emergency contacts on speed dial or favorite contacts if your phone has that kind of feature to make it even quicker and easier.

When meeting someone from a dating app, social media or other place online for the first time, do so in a public setting like a restaurant or other busy area where there are a lot of other people nearby to prevent potentially dangerous behaviors. Try to avoid meeting up with someone for the first time at your home when and where possible. Try to avoid giving out your exact location or address before you have interacted with someone in person.

Being in groups in public can drastically increase your safety levels, especially if those people are willing to stand up for you. It's also hard for people to get a close read on you if you are with a lot of other people. The more there are of you, the better.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to carry self defense tools just in case. That won't make you a violent person, looking out for your safety is crucial. It's okay to prepare for this kind of thing.

You may find that people suddenly start being needlessly sexual toward you, or sexualize your womanhood without you telling them you enjoy that kind of thing first. People may shift their view on how they feel about you and become aggressively sexual. You are not obligated to accept that if it makes you uncomfortable.

You may find that people start to doubt your physical strength and capability for no real reason.

Trans chasers do exist, though they're not every person who's attracted to trans women. Chasers will usually focus very hard on the things that make you "non passing" to them, to the point where it makes you feel very uncomfortable because you no longer feel as though you are being viewed as a person, but rather, a sexual object that fascinates them. They may also use hurtful slurs and humiliating language toward you without your consent.

I know people say this a lot but it's true, public bathrooms can be dangerous, so it's best to stay cautious when entering one. Wear a face mask if possible inside to help people mind their own business. Avoid conversation if possible. Looking nervous may draw some attention, so keeping a cool head and focusing on the task at hand can help in some situations.

You do not have to feel ashamed of your voice, but if you're noticing people getting caught up on your voice, you can do some vocal training, or choose to speak in shorter, more concise sentences and utilize body language around those people, or both. You don't have to completely silence yourself as you deserve to speak up for yourself, but using more body language may help you have an easier time with strangers who are or may become caught up on how your voice sounds. There are all kinds if women with deep voices, but some people do focus on this.

Women's support groups and spaces can potentially be very welcoming, or very hostile depending on the people involved. There are women's spaces who accept trans women, but there are also those who do not. Try not to feel too bad on yourself if you find these spaces do not accept you, because it says nothing about you and everything about that space.

It's good to have friends, lovers and family who are also women, but cis women in particular are not always inherently safe to be around and can harm you. If you feel like the cis women around you are hurting you, you're allowed to say that they are. Cis women can be great allies and friends, but they are not inherently safer to be around than any other gender. You do not have to tell yourself they are not hurting you because women can't hurt each other. You do not have to convince yourself the pain isn't real because women are incapable of harming others. If you feel as though the cis women in your life are treating you badly, it's okay to talk about it and validate yourself in that you can genuinely be harmed by cis women and you do not have to downplay any of that pain whatsoever.

If you notice a lot of these things happening to you, It's more than okay to be angry at the shitty behaviors people may start showing you as a trans woman. It's okay to feel anger towards those actions and how people look down on women. It's okay to express your pain. It's okay to express worry and concern. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to not know what to do at first or in certain situations. It's okay to take a while to adjust to how people are treating you if it changes. As long as one doesn't direct that anger at people who haven't hurt them, there is nothing wrong with any of this.

now you may have a totally different experience depending on the people around you. there's no way to know exactly how people will treat you after coming out, so take things step by step, day by day. for your own mental health, try not to let yourself get too caught up in these things. it's great that you want to look out for potential danger! it's a very real issue, but your mental health is also super important and if you find that all you can think about is being in danger, you definitely deserve to find ways to alleviate that stress. take care of yourself when and where possible to make the experience more enjoyable.

tailor your experience in your home and personal life as much as you can to your liking. being out in public can be dangerous and scary, but you do deserve to be out somewhere, even if it's when it's just you alone in your room, talking to your friends. women, especially trans women, can be in a lot of potential danger at all times, but don't let yourself get consumed by fear all the time, as you deserve quality of life and you deserve to feel proud and euphoric about being a trans girl. you deserve validation and kindness. you deserve to feel good about yourself as a trans girl at some point, you don't have to go without that because cishet patriarchal society can be dangerous and hard.

i hope you find this even remotely helpful, i may not have been as informative as i'd like to be, but take care of yourself, okay? it's very good to want to learn the risks of what can potentially happen in society and being a woman in public. others are more than welcome to pitch in as well, please do so if you have tips & suggestions for this anon! take care for now, be good to yourself and remember that there's nothing wrong with being a woman, especially a trans woman. the people who don't like you don't define you: you do. you don't have to listen to them. they don't know who you really are.

[jthealien]

Foreshadowing I’ve Found for THAT Reveal

Spoilers for the Season 1 finale under the cut!!!

HI GUYS HOW ARE WE FEELING WOW

I’ve spent the weeks in between the fast pass release and now rereading and looking for every bit of foreshadowing I could find for B- I mean Nox… being a key. (Or at least key adjacent)

Side Note: I’m playing fast and loose with the definition of foreshadowing here. Some are pretty small details or silly observations, but my list my rules :P

So here it is compiled in a massive (vaguely chronological) list with numbered photos!

Also if there’s anything I missed (I’m sure there is) please add it!!

———

1) The literal first scene of the comic is a crescent moon (in a purple background), which we now know is Nox/the villain key’s symbol

2) (Ep. 13) Nox knows “plenty about the keys.” uh yeah I bet you would

3) (Ep. 13) Chase asks if Nox is part of Ex Libris and wants to make the keys more miserable, which seems to make him really upset. It’s understandable, I’d be pretty upset if I was implied to be working with my tormentors to make my own life even worse.

4) (Ep. 13) From the start Nox assumes Chase wants the keys for something selfish. Considering Ex Libris treats the keys like objects, and some of the keys (like Bronze) are pretty weary around people, that’s not an unreasonable assumption. Nox is so accustomed to being used by higher ups for selfish wishes

—This puts his outburst in Ep. 31 in a whole new light, specifically the line about Chase wanting to befriend the keys. He’s so convinced that couldn’t be true because it’s never been true for him.

5) Each of the keys has a specific junk food/snack they like. Silver has cheese, Bronze has peanut butter, Goldie has gummies, and it seems Nox has chocolate :]

6) (Ep. 20) “Every last thing” about the keys is his business in his words

—Guess that includes himself

7) Metals can rust, and Nox isn’t a fan of water (besides baths, but I assume that’s because he can control when he goes in and for how long)

8) When you stick a key in a book, they automatically know the story (as said by Bronze in Ep. 21). This explains why Nox seems to know a book’s plot no matter what

9) (Ep. 28) He says that the keys can take advantage of “certain loopholes.” In that moment, this is a reference to what characters a key can use for their role. But it could also be a nod to how keys can technically use other keys to enter stories. He’d know that since it’s what he’s been doing this whole time.

10) In the infamous “They feed you, right?” scene (Ep. 29), we’ve always kind of assumed that — yeah — Ex Libris just doesn’t feed him often. But in this scene, Chase ALSO says “keep you locked up.” I have a feeling that’s actually what Buddy got upset about. Ex Libris probably did keep him locked up as a key, which has to be really traumatic considering his severe claustrophobia.

11) (Ep. 31) Nox assumes Chase’s wish is just as “self-serving” as his is, which we now know is to be human again.

—(Nox actually projects a lot of his own feelings onto Chase, I’ll talk about that some other time though.)

—Referring back to number 5, during this whole confrontation, Nox is convinced that Chase only wants Narratonin for a wish. As a key, of course he’d think that, because that’s all that the humans usually around him want.

12) ”Nobody should have to accept being the villain if they’re trying their best not to be.” (Ep. 30) and “I get it, you’re the villain around here…” (Ep. 32)

—He literally IS the villain

—(Also I didn’t have room to include it, but Nox gets a really sad look on his face after Chase says that last line. yikes..)

13) (Ep. 32) In response to Chase talking about trusting humans, Nox says “them.” He could’ve said something like ‘people’ or ‘anyone,’ but his wording here implies that he sees human beings as separate from himself.

14) The crescent moon necklace on his outfit in Sick Days, as well as the half-ones on his jacket. If you really think about it you could also count the gemstones near his eyes as representing his gem eyes.

—It’s maybe a little strange that this outfit is the one he decided to make so similar to his key form. But it makes sense considering the previous arc was Beach Boys, where Nox became more trusting of Chase

15) (Ep. 35) He’s never been sick because keys can’t get sick.

16) (Ep. 36) He says “real people” and “person,“ showing again how he might not think of himself as either of those. (See number 13)

17) (Ep. 39) There’s a lock on Nox’s coffin

18) (Ep. 39) I originally thought it was the lighting but nope, his ear is literally gray! Also his hair here is less spiky at the ends, like how it is in his key form

19) (Ep. 39) He looks surprised by his reflection, because he’s only used to seeing his human form while in the books.

—In fact, since you can’t see yourself in the book mirrors, when’s the last time he saw himself as a human?

20) (Ep. 39) The broken key-ring looking thing around his neck

21) (Ep. 49) “Good, that means I’m taller than someone for once.” if only you knew, Chase..

22) The entirety of Ep. 50 confirming that keys can go into books

23) (Ep. 53) He gets really pissy over the idea of his teeth being “baby”. Might be carry over from his grudge against being like 5 inches tall in reality

24) (Ep. 53) His claustrophobia could stem from being stuck in his key form and being put in a box for weeks or months at a time.

—He keeps repeating that he just needs to “wait it out” and “it’s fine” because that’s all he could do and think as a key

25) (Ep. 54) “That moon is too close” following the scene where Buddy decides to lower his guard and work on his harmful behaviors. We now know the symbol of the villain key is the moon, so it could be Nox trying to distance himself from his role as the villain.

26) (Ep. 55) The crescent moon on Bad Cat’s lapel

27) (Ep. 56) “Some people are very good at disguising their true nature” in reference to Nox. It’s quite literal, in this case.

28) All the characters’ eyes are drawn in a very specific way, no matter their color (black shading taking up half the iris, the white shine). Every character except Nox, that is.

—Well, every character except Nox and the key’s human forms. I always thought it was meant to make him seem more intimidating (which it Does), but it really might be a byproduct of being a key. The queen in Friends and Family (Ep. 56) almost has Nox’s exact eye color, and her eyes are still colored in the usual way. So it’s definitely more than a stylistic choice.

—Makes me wonder what Nox looked like pre-key form. ..Did he still have his bright blue high beams..

29) Dreams by Day is about a key having a dream/flashback, and Dreams by Night is.. also about a key having a dream/flashback

———

And that’s all I have for now!! I’m absolutely going to find something else the millisecond I post this but like u said please add anything you notice.

[universalzones]

"Relax, I'm not say to just uproot everyone, though just to move as many as we possibly can without endangering anyone. I'm sure there are a couple who can still be moved, just not comfortably." Twist wasn't used to all this middle ground work as he was the sort of guy to just follow the orders he was given and execute them. The lemur still understood the importance of keeping the peace in times like this.

Twist didn't move quickly, deciding to take a moment to access all the injured and what he could do with his limit knowledge. The last thing he wanted to do was make any injures worse and make Dawn's job harder. The lemur settled on doing simple tasks. Popping in a dislocated joint, helping bandage some people up, and making a few quick splints. Simple tasks, though he was getting to a good amount of people so the nurse could focus on those with heavier injuries.

Twist would stop for a moment and pull out his phone to see a notification. The lemur finding one of the copies that wasn't too busy. "Here, the doctor is in the base, though figured you giving them all the details as they make their way here might help." Best to have someone who knew how things work inform the doctor of the situation.

===========================================================

"Well, I tried to go slower than normal, though there's also a time crunch here." Surge wasn't used to having to drag someone around as Drippy can normally keep up with her for the most part, though it seemed even her best attempt not to move too fast didn't work as well as she thought. The tenrec was sure Jewel would have an upset stomach, though wanted to avoid causing dizziness. "Might be best you wait where people can see you. That dome of yours ain't looking too good and I don't think it could take bumping into anything." Hard not to notice that the beetle took a bit of a hit to the head, even if it doesn't look too bad.

"And I'm don't want to hear you argue," Surge said as she opened the door and waited for Jewel to enter the room first. The tenrec didn't want the beetle to get hurt as she knows first hand it can be a bit tricky walking around after you shake off from being dizzy. Best they're in eye view of everyone so if she makes a misstep by mistake someone can catch her or prevent her from hurting herself.

She sighed as she worked to splint one of the victims of the crashes arm, and wanted to roll her eyes so bad at Twist. It wasn't like she didn't know that but, she also was hyper aware at least a couple people were to critical to be moved. If GUN wanted everyone out that was going to be an impossible task without risking lives. Twist had to know that right? Or maybe he was just trying to create small talk.

" We'd love that to, but a few patients are to critical to be moved right now. So best we can do is get those who can be moved ready to be transported. If GUN wants to muscle in and kill people they can do it in there own hospital but not here... "

She said flatly showing that Dawn wasn't scared of GUN or its soldiers. She'd faced crazy odds during the war, and she'd learned to toss her far to the wind. It made her somewhat reckless and straight forward. But if it came down to it she had no problems becoming a harmacist if she had to!

" We'll do what we can, and GUN has to just--- understand the circumstances. That airship might have missed critical areas but the explosion and impact shockwave hit a major portion of the base. Lots of lower levels were damaged to... we are lucky things aren't worse "

===============================================

Jewel paid close attention to what the two said, and while there was likely small details they missed. She had a feeling Clean Sweep was maybe not doing as well as they pretended to be. She'd seen there finance reports, and alot of there cash was going out to mysterious benefactors. She wondered if that cash wasn't being siphoned off by someone else, or maybe Clutch owed money to someone they hadn't seen yet. But in truth she had a feeling this was just a power play by clutch to prove he was a big man. Steal all there cash and put them in a hole just to rub salt in the wound. For all his brilliant moves Clutch made a few foolish ones.

" I'm not sure why he made such a bold move. But he did want to get rid of his competition... it wasn't a totally unfounded attempt. But i suppose those questions will have to wait for later. "

She turned to yara and the skunk brothers

" I do apologize leaving you all like this. But i should probably be present in the command center. Surge is the fastest way back, you should try to catch up with me when you can. I doubt she can carry all of us. "

She was going to say Bye and good luck but surge had other ideas as she was tugged along at super sonic speeds. Truthfully she was somewhat use to moving at high speeds do to Tangle yeeting herself around as a kid! But by comparison this was much faster and she felt her insides doing a double take!

" I think... i'm gonna... "

She covered her mouth with both her hands and looked like she was green behind the gills for a second! but managed to keep her lunch where it belonged!

" I'm good... i'm good, i'll be with you as soon as my head stops spinning..."

[wowzees]

no matter what

lando norris x reader

y/n is not used!

a/n: this is a short story from uni- i have to make a collection of them

the one i posted earlier was also one, but these have not recived feedback from my professer or have been majorly edited. enjoy!

High school felt like the longest four years of my life. Days blurred into each other, routines became a way of life, and I thought I had everything figured out. I was one of those kids who had his group of friends, the sport he played, and the classes he took, all laid out in a neat, predictable order. Nothing ever really changed.

And then, there was her.

She’d been there from the start. The girl who wasn’t just a friend,she was something more, though I never said it out loud. We’d grown up together, laughed at the same inside jokes, gotten in trouble for the same stupid things. She knew me better than anyone else, maybe even better than I knew myself. She was the one I could count on for anything. She was the one who could make me laugh on days when nothing felt right. When life got heavy, when there was uncertainty about my future, she was the one I turned to. And I thought that would never change. Or maybe I didn’t think about it at all. Why would I need to? She was always there, like a constant in my life, something I could rely on. But looking back, I see the warning signs. Small things that I chose not to notice. 

At first, it was little things— how she stopped coming to my house after school everyday. How she stopped calling me for big milestones. It’s easy to ignore changes like that. Until they hit you all at once. And then, it was too late.

Without her presence, I started hanging out with the kids from my soccer team more, and more. I told them about all my problems with her. Their solution? They wanted me to prank her. I wanted to fit in. So, I agreed.

Maybe I was too busy with soccer, or maybe I just took her for granted. But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing her the way I always had. I saw how my actions hurt her. But, somewhere along the way i stopped seeing that. I stopped seeing how my actions hurt her.

But I didn’t think much about it at the time. After all, things had always worked themselves out between us, right? I guess I never thought I’d lose her, guess I thought that she’d always be there.

How wrong I was.

And seeing her now after graduation, getting ready to go to college and saying goodbye to friends for one last time, I can't help but remember a time when things were so much simpler.

Age, 7. Grade, 2

“Lan, wait up” she yelled, peddling her feet. I slowed my bike down and turned to face her. 

“Hurry up! You're being slow.” she peddled faster. Too fast. I watched in slow motion as she rides over a rock, flies through the air as if it’s molasses, then falls in what seems the same way a feather falls through the air. Then promptly crashes into a trashcan, scattering trash all around and on top of her. 

I quickly stopped my bike and ran to her. She was sitting there, covered in trash from the trash can, pouting. As I stood over her, and saw her covered in trash, I almost laughed. “Stop! It’s really not funny” she sniffled, though she now seemed a little happier. 

“I've bin waiting for this to happen” I joke, hoping to make her laugh.

“It's really not that funny” she snorts while giggling.

 “Yeah, well you’re still laughing” I argue. As she struggles to her feet, I realize I should probably help her. As I move to put her arm around my shoulder, she shoves me off. 

“I don't need your help, butthead” she says, crossing her arms and stares at me with her lips pursed. 

“Sorry, man, chill.” I say, not really understanding why she didn't want help. 

“I got worse when I first started playing volleyball, it's just a little scrape on my knee. It’ll heal” 

"Ok "I mumbled, feeling a little stupid.

As we walked home, we talked about silly things, like how funny she looked covered in trash, or about the people we didn't like at school. Before we parted ways, she threw her arms around me and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss that was gone as soon as it started to my cheek. “Bye Lando! I'll see you tomorrow at school!” she said over her shoulder as she ran home.

“Bye” I yell, after she had already disappeared into the house, my cheeks still red.

She had always been brave in her own way. Whether it was running into a trash can then getting back up with a skinned knee and no tears, or hiding her fears behind that stubborn smile of hers, she never changed. She was always the same, brave girl I had known since I was a kid. I wish I had known then how much that bravery would change the course of our friendship.

Age, 12  Grade 7.

The ferris wheel creaked more and more the higher up it went, carrying us higher, and higher into the night sky. Below we could see the rest of the fair, all the people enjoying themselves just like we are.

Her posture was slumped, and she was practically shaking on the little metal bench that lines the side of the carriage.

“Are you scared?” I ask. This wasn't a very normal occurrence, and I was honestly a little surprised. 

“What? Me? No! Of course not. I don't get scared” she responded, her voice shaky, and honestly not very convincing. 

“Hey, it's okay if you are scared. We all have things we are scared of; it doesn't make you weak.” I say in a soft tone, understanding when to tease and when to be comforting. 

“I'm not scared.”

“Yeah? Good, me neither. Honestly, it's really nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice being up here.”

“I guess it is pretty nice.”

“It's really pretty,” I say with a sigh.

“It is,” she responds with an airy voice.

Little did I know that while I was staring at the sky, she was looking at me.

Ever since that night on the ferris wheel, I had developed a liking for stars. She learned more about stars for me, though I didn't know that then. I thought it was just a coincidence, not something carefully planned. Ever since then, we would spend nights under the stars together, gazing upwards.

Age, 15. Grade 9.

“And that one’s named Altair” she said, pointing up at the brightest star in the sky.

“How do you know this?” I ask while chuckling.

“I learned it when I was in 8th grade for my science fair project. I won.”

“I know, you’ve only told me like a million times.”

“I have not!”

“Uh, yes you have.”

“Excuse yo- wow, it's like, really cold.”

“Here,” I say, shrugging my sweatshirt off. “Take it.”

“No, it's fine really. I don't need it, I’m fine.”

“If you don't take it, I’m actually gonna go insane!”

“Fine” she huffed, sticking her tongue out at me. “Thank you.” she mumbled.

“You're welcome.”

“Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“We'll always be best friends, right?”

“Of course we will. No matter what.”

“No matter what.”

Back then, No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep. Before our future became closer and closer, before I found out she would be going to Yale. No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep under the soft lighting of the stars, but under the fluorescent lights in the highschool hallways, and the pressure from the guys, the promise broke apart. 

“Hey Lan!” she exclaims, coming up to me “Hey,” I respond. “Where are your glasses?” I ask. She has always loved her glasses. She always said it gave her more personality, though I disagree. She has plenty of personality already. 

“Oh, I just switched to contacts for volleyball! It's too impractical to have to play without being able to see, ya know? Do you like them?” I actually think that she looks stunning with or without glasses, but since my friends from the soccer team are with me, I just say 

“ I dunno man, it kinda makes your eyes look too close together.” I feel absolutely terrible as I practically see her deflate. Her normally radiant smile disappears, her shoulders begin to tremble, and her eyes go glassy. At first, she didn't say anything. I could practically see her brain thinking of ways to respond. She was trying to act relaxed about it, but I knew her well. She doesn't do relaxed about these types of things.

 I hear the boys snickering from behind me, making stupid comments about how “he is so right” and “how can she not see that herself?” and “why does she talk so much?”. I'm actually about to turn around and tell them to shut up, and that I am the only one allowed to tease her like that, but before I can, she says something.

“Oh. Well, uh, I should be going to class. I'll see you later, Lando,” she mumbles. Her normally confident posture seemed impossibly timid and shy. Her posture didn't say ‘see you later’.  It said ‘leave me alone’.

While she walked down the hallway, the only thing I could focus on was the fact that she didn't call me Lan .

The next few days, I tried finding her, though she kept on avoiding me. Finally, I found her sitting outside at the tables, eating her lunch alone.

“Hey” I greet softly, sitting down at the table outside. 

“What do you want?” she responded, her tone sharp. She was wearing her glasses again.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said on Tuesday.” I say, barely audible.

“If you're going to say something, say it louder.”

“I wanted to apologize for what I said.” 

“Do you? Do you really? Or is this just another sick prank you and your friends are playing on me, huh? I stood there and took it in tenth grade, when you made fun of my brother, who, by the way looks up to you, in the cafeteria. I stood there and took it in eleventh grade when you texted everyone from my phone things that I would never, ever say about someone and especially TO someone, posted things on instagram that I would NEVER post, and then humiliated me by making me think that you were seriously hurt, then jump up and say “it's a prank” after i started crying? I even stood there and took it when you told me that my eyes were too close together! The one thing you know I'm insecure about, and you make fun of it? You’ve changed Lando! You and your stupid friends have made high school horrible for me! And even though you've been rude, and you've been mean, and you've in general been a nightmare to be around, I'm still in love with you, and I have been for the last 10 years! And I'm done with this! I will not, will not sit here and let you bully me because I’m your ‘best friend’! I stayed your friend because I thought you would notice me! I thought you would realize, but you didn't! And I’m done waiting, okay? I’m done. Bye, Lando.”

By now, she was crying. Before I could respond to her and apologize, I hear laughing and jeering coming from behind me. I turn around and march over to where the boys are standing. They chuckle upon seeing me, and I absolutely lose it.

“Are you guys actually stupid? You made me lose the most important thing in my life, because you ‘thought it would be funny’? She is worth more than you guys will ever be. She was a better friend, a better athlete, but most importantly, a better person than you guys! I’m done with y’all.” 

I turn back to where she was standing, but she's not there anymore.

The next few days, I look for her. I see her a couple of times, but she always manages to avoid me. 

One night, as I’m packing for college, I hear someone knocking on the front door.

I run down the stairs, thinking it’s the pizza I ordered for me and my sister, but it’s not. It’s her.

“Uhm, I just wanted to return this.” she says, handing me my sweatshirt that i gave to her 3 years ago. “I just thought I should return it before I leave for Yale.”

“When do you leave?” I ask, fearing the answer.

“Tomorrow.” 

The second I hear that word, my world stops. I hazily thank her for bringing the sweatshirt back, then slam the door. I vaguely remember stumbling up the stairs, and sitting down on my bed, my mind running a thousand miles a minute.

 I’m going to have to live without the person who was there for me at every problem, at every bad game, at every milestone in my life, and I lost her because of my own mistakes. I lost her because I let those stupid kids influence my decisions. I lost her because I didn't know how to communicate my feelings. And now, I’ll never get her back.

I was right. I never got her back. And deep down inside, I knew I was never going to get her back. I knew this when I met Emma. I knew this when I proposed to Emma. I knew this when I invited her to our wedding. But that truly, did not prepare me for when I saw her.

“And do you, Lando Norris, take Emma Sand to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish till death do you part? ” asked the priest, his voice echoing through the church that held all of our friends and loved ones. 

“ I do.” 

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see her, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. After years of knowing her,  I could almost hear her thinking ‘that should have been me.’

And I feel horrible and disgusting and gross thinking this on my wedding day, but I'm inclined to agree. It should have been her. And it would have been, if not for my own stupidity.

And seeing her, brought me right back to all those years ago. And made me wonder; what happened to ‘no matter what.’

[phantom-playdough]

Macaque x GN!Stressed Reader: Fluffy Cuddles

It's been a while since I've written a fic, much less completed one. Especially for the LMK fandom because I've kinda fallen out of the fandom. But I miss writing fics for this show and have been needing a bit of an outlet. And what's more comforting than shadow monkey cuddles? Nothing. That's what I thought lol

Also posted on my AO3: My_inner_phantom

Things have been really exhausting lately. So many things have been pulling at you, demanding your attention that you've hardly had time for yourself. Much less your clingy boyfriend, Macaque. But every time things seem to finally be settling down, something happens that gets in the way of you being able to spend time with him. Needless to say, you're exhausted.

He's been trying his best to be understanding, and he's done a good job so far. Especially by his standards. So, when he finishes training one day, he decides he's sick of sitting around in his hut and doing nothing without you there. It doesn't feel right without you beside him, especially for this long. It's not your fault that you've been so busy, and it's hard for him to be mad at you for long, anyway.

But he misses you.

You've been working so hard lately and have been under so much stress practically every day that it's a miracle you're still holding it together. Heck, if he had to deal with everything you've been coping with, he surely would be doing way worse. But he's sick of being patient when it feels like the universe just keeps throwing things at you. And he'll be damned if he's going to let the universe keep you away from him like this, especially when you both need each other's company.

He lets out a dramatic sigh before dropping into a portal and landing on your couch in your apartment. He can tell you're not home yet, so he decides to lounge on your couch for a bit until you get back. Your scent in the room helps soothe his nerves just slightly, but it also just makes him miss you more. However, he plays it cool when he hears your footsteps enter the building and walk up to your door.

Opening his eye, he peeks over to see you walk inside and kick off your shoes. You don't even seem surprised when you see him on your couch. If anything, you seem relieved.

It's only a moment before you make it over to the couch and face plant into his chest, to which he responds by loosely wrapping an arm around your waist while the other stays behind his head. Despite his casual expression, the way his tail wraps more firmly around your leg is a clear indicator of how much he's missed you.

"Rough day?" You nod into his chest. "Need me to beat anybody up for ya?" He gently offers, which earns a small laugh from you. "Maybe later." You half-joke. His arm and tail tighten around you just slightly, showing clear restraint from pushing you for details or going on a hunt. You appreciate the effort and reward him with a kiss on the cheek, which surprises him a bit.

He'll probably never get used to your affection, and he secretly likes it that way. Every peck on the cheek from you feels like the first, and it reminds him that there's still some good left in this world. In his world.

He smiles after a moment, leaving a small kiss on your forehead in response. If there's one thing you know, it's that he's not going to let you get up for a while.

[auroralwriting]

my lover

charles xavier x fem!reader

you and charles have a peaceful, euphoric life together. tonight was no exception. (based on this request)

word count: 1.3k | warnings: tooth rotting fluff

The Xavier Mansion, now known as the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, was a lively, bright place you felt lucky to call your home. It was always bustling with children and teenagers roaming and exploring, creating connections and learning about their mutations. It was an unfathomable sight to witness, one you were glad you could live to see.

It wasn't long ago now that Charles had proposed to you. Maybe it was becoming wheelchair bound that finally pushed him, seeing your relentless support and undying affection for him, mobile or not. It was a sweet thing. Private, romantic, the way you'd always known Charles would propose.

Sure, some things were missing, like Raven, a nearly lifelong friend of yours, and one of Charles'. Another friend, he was missing, too. Of course, you both wished they could be here, but it wasn't like you were all alone. Alex and Hank were good friends. They seemed the most drawn to both of you. It was nice. It was home.

You walked the halls of your beloved school, one you were proud to teach at. You smiled at kids as they passed, all greeting you cheerfully. Truthfully, you were looking for Charles. Yes, you could reach out to him telepathically, but you always knew exactly where he would be almost like magic. At least, that's what Charles called it.

That was the great thing about you and Charles. He didn't need his mutation to read you, and you didn't need it to understand him. You had just clicked. It's what had drawn a teenage Charles to you in the first place. The way you spoke to him, matched his intellect, his interests, his passions, and then eventually discovering your shared desire for peace between mutants and humans, it all just confirmed to Charles you were the one. He's always known that.

"Charles?" Your voice carried softly into your shared room with the professor. He was sat in his wheelchair, looking out your window to the courtyard, watching groups of students interact around a bonfire. "Charles, my beloved,"

The Professor smiled at your voice, turning his head. "Darling, have I told you that you looked gorgeous today?"

"Several times, actually." You smiled, walking over to him and helping him move onto the bed to be more comfortable. He leaned against the headboard, staring at you with near hearts in his eyes. "You tell me several times every day."

"It should be a hundred," Charles chuckled. "Sit with me, my love. I want to relish your presence."

You sat comfortably next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. "I have been busy lately, haven't I?"

"You're a teacher, it comes with the job," Charles chuckled. It was true. Being a normal teacher was hard, but a teacher for mutants was even harder at times. "How was your classes today? Still having trouble with young Jean?"

"She's getting better," you replied confidently. "More confident. I see it in her every day."

Charles nodded, "As do I. We're making good progress with her."

"You've been talking about school a lot lately," you pointed out. "Are you just very focused on it right now, or is there something else?"

You always could find any problems Charles had. Again, magic. "You caught me, my dear. I'm just.. worried, is all. The war, I've heard things. I heard it's getting worse. I just worry."

"Charles," you interlaced your fingers together as you squeezed his hand three times. "That's so far out of your control. Keep your mind here, with me. With the students. If things change, that is out of our control. We just have to soak all of this in now. There may be some time we don't have this."

"That's why I worry," Charles replied. "I worry for the kids, for what will become of this place."

A small, sympathetic smile graced your lips. "This place will always be a school, even if it has to be.. inactive for a little time. This will always be a safe place."

"You.. are right as always, love." Charles sighed. "I am here, I promise. I'll keep my mind from wandering as best as I can. And you're right. This is a school. Maybe preparing our children for this would help ease my worry."

You smiled, "That's a wonderful idea, Charles. I'm sure it would put their minds at ease, too."

Charles flipped your hand so the top was facing him. He bent your hand back slightly, observing the ring on your finger. "It truly does suit you,"

"Well, I technically did choose it. You probed my mind to find it," you laughed. Charles had spent a week trying to find your perfect, ideal ring. Finally, he found a good image and searched for even more weeks to find the perfect one. Of course, money was no issue. He didn't tell you how much the ring was worth, but damn.

"I just wanted it to be perfect, you deserve it all." Charles replied, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "I want to give you everything you've ever wanted in life."

"You already have," you replied, a shake to your head. "This is everything to me. Even if it was just us."

Charles raised a brow, "Are you insinuating that Hank's presence was unwelcomed?"

"Well," you bit your lip, "he intruded quite a lot. Remember that one time he walked in on us while you were between my--"

"You make a good point!" Charles cut you off, laughing softly after. "Come here, love. I think I've finally mastered the art of hair braiding."

You scooted in front of Charles, allowing his fingers to tangle in your hair. "You know," you began, "it's sort of like all of these kids are our own in some ways. I mean, we understand them better than their families ever could. They also happen to live under our roof."

Charles hummed, "Is that something you want?"

"Children?" You asked, causing Charles to nod in confirmation. "Yeah, I don't think I would mind one or two mini-us running around this place."

"It would drive Hank up the wall," Charles laughed. "I don't think he could stand one or two more of us."

Shrugging, you felt Charles' fingers pull ever so softly. "I think he'd just have to learn to live with it." You felt Charles reach the end of your hair as you passed him a hair tie. You sat up on your knees, looking in the mirror that hung on the all above your bed. "You french braided my hair!"

"I did," Charles proudly smirked.

Ever since he lost use of his legs, he began to take up new hobbies. He wasn't bad at crochet or poetry, but he liked finding ways to help you. Braiding your hair in the evening was one less thing to worry about in the morning. So was sewing holes from accidents in the danger room and good massages.

Don't think Charles did it all, however. Cooking was not up his alley, nor was cleaning anymore. Taking care of some yard work was also your own tasks, unless a certain student with special abilities offered to lend a hand. Life was balanced with you and Charles.

"It looks amazing," you praised as you observed how neat it looked. "I couldn't make it look this good myself if I tried."

"I had a good volunteer for practice." Charles smiled as you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. "My love, it's getting quite late. We have early morning danger room drills if I'm not mistaken."

"Unfortunately, we do," you replied. "Time for some rest?"

Charles smiled. This was his favorite part of the night. "Indeed, darling. Come here, let me hold you tonight." He always said that every night, but the outcome was no different. You turned off the lights and curled up into his arms, allowing him to hold you, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

Life with Charles was like a dream. No matter how much either of your changed, you adapted. That's what soulmates do, is it not?

[deeplyshalllow]

I’m sorry but this is bullshit.

Let’s break this down

On Fiyero being Captain of the Guard

He is a double agent. He does not believe what he stands for and is using his position to do what he can to find and help Elphaba. I don’t know what to say to you if you missed the obvious statements about this in Thank Goodness, because I have always thought they were so obvious they really should be rewritten because I don’t know how he wasn’t found out and arrested when he said all that.

Morrible: Now you've been at the forefront of the hunt for the Wicked Witch, haven't you? Fiyero: I don't like to think of her as a Wicked Witch.

Glinda: Fiyero, I miss her too, but we can't just stop living. No one has searched harder for her than you.

I guess he doesn’t literally say “shhh I’m secretly using my position to undermine the regime” but I think the writers thought people watching the show had some basic media literacy.

Does this mean he didn’t commit atrocities? No probably not. But bear in mind if he hadn’t been doing it, someone else would have. Fiyero knows this, by placing himself here he is in the best position both to protect Elphaba but also protect the Animals in the regime. I know we don’t see him helping the Animals, but nor do we really see Elphaba doing so? Given he used the first opportunity, when they wouldn’t get in trouble, to help the Lion Cub it seems a pretty good inference that he was trying to send out warnings to Animals when he could (especially now the movieverse has made him the only character aside from Elphaba who is friends with an Animal – he probably even has a network he can tap into!).

“Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time.”

IDK about you, but I think if I were to search for someone wanted and was given the opportunity to both have the best resources and information to find her and hamper people who might find her and hurt her, I would totally do it this way too.

“He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way”

Um, yes he did? He literally succeeded in the exact goal he was planning by joining the Gale Force: to protect Elphaba. If he hadn’t been Captain of the Guard in the throne room when the Wizard called his guards she would have been captured and killed, instead she escaped which eventually allowed the Wizard to be overthrown and Elphaba’s values to be acted on in the form of Glinda ruling.

Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful.

There is a difference between keeping quiet, not protesting a regime and actively endorsing it. Glinda was doing the latter and she was not forced into that. (She also was not helping undermine it the same way Fiyero was).

Fiyero: I can't just stand here grinning pretending to go along with all of this! Glinda: Do you think I like to hear them say those awful things about her? I hate it! Fiyero: Then what are we doing here? Let's go, let's get out of here! Glinda: We can't leave now, not when people are looking to us to raise their spirits. Fiyero: You can't leave, because you can't resist this. And that is the truth. Glinda: Maybe I can't. Is that so wrong? Who could?

Elphaba: No, of course you never! You're too busy telling everyone how wonderful everything is! Glinda: I'm a public figure, now. People expect me to... Elphaba: Lie? Glinda: Be encouraging!

I promise I do not hate Glinda, I find her character fascinating, and she is starting to make up for the awful stuff she does in act two by the end of the musical. But do not pretend for one moment that she is not actively complicit in this regime, with no real desire to stop it until it starts actively hurting her.

“He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person.”

He gave up his wealth, privilege and safety to ensure Elphaba escaped from the throne room and continued her cause (this isn’t about running away with Elphaba btw, he lost everything from the moment he pointed the gun at the Wizard). He was ready to die for her in the Corn Field scene. I don’t know what more you want him to do to prove that he was not shallow and he wouldn’t die for his cause in the exact same way Elphaba was prepared to?

“He doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits.”

I don’t think there’s anything to say here except you are just actively wrong.

Fiyero is the only character of the trio to put thoughts into his actions. He is the only one who doesn’t immediately act on his impulses.

Elphaba reacts immediately to what she thinks is right without thinking of the consequences to herself or, frankly, if it will even work. This is shown metaphorically in her outbursts of magic in early act 1 but also more literally in Defying Gravity, confronting the Wizard after Wonderful and, even in some twisted sense, in capturing Dorothy.

Glinda reacts immediately to her first instinct of what she wants and feels emotionally and regrets later (often when it’s too late to backtrack) – the hat, telling Morrible and the Wizard how to capture Elphaba, even saying she’ll join Elphaba in Defying Gravity can be seen as examples of this.

Fiyero, however, (ironically) is the only one of the group who thinks. In throne room he goes in, plays the part of a loyal guard until he’s got rid of the witnesses and neutralised the threat of the Wizard, in the Cornfield scene he realises that the only way he can get Elphaba away safely is by threatening Glinda, at the end of the show he is the one who plays along as a scarecrow for days while coming up with the plan for Elphaba to escape (and make no mistake, this is Fiyero’s plan, he’s the one who knows the water melting rumour, he’s the one who knows the secret passages in Kiamo Ko).

“But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her”

He saves her life three times in act two. What the fuck are you talking about?

Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes,

I will give you that. But it’s not by any foreplaning. Glinda does become a good person, but it takes the whole musical and some very horrible consequences for her actions, ones that she quite rightly will forever regret and have to spend her whole life making up for.

And none of this would have been possible without Fiyero anyway, if it had not been for him Elphaba would have been captured, executed and Glinda would have never had the courage – or possibly even the motivation to fight back.

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[messedupfan]

Chapter 25

Summary: Persistent as ever, Jean and Anna recruit Jean's mother to help with their cause. Which sparks an important conversation between Wanda and Y/n.

A/n: Helloooo! I know I'm slow with posting lately. Work has been CRAZY. Hopefully I'll get in a better rhythm soon. Especially with the hell that is coming upon us these next four years. We'll need each other to get through! Have a good day and enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist  | All Chapters

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You are folding laundry for you and Rachel when your phone goes off in your pocket. You pause for a moment and pull your phone out to see that it's Jean's mom calling you. It's not unusual for her to call but it's not as common as it used to be. 

“Hey Mrs. Grey, how's it going?” You say cheerfully. 

Mrs. Grey makes a disapproving sound. “Y/n I've told you many times since the divorce, you can still call me mom.” 

You laugh at her slight upset over the misuse of her formal name. “How are you doing, Mom?” You ask as you lean your head to the side to hold your phone between your head and shoulder. 

“That's better,” she cheers. You hear some rustling around on her end. “I am doing well. I just came back to town to check on the house. The last tenants just moved out and I came to assess damages before I hire the cleaning crew and repair guy.” 

“Oh, do you need a lot of repairs done? You know that I'm always happy to help,” you offer while you resume folding.

“No, no, dear. I couldn't ask you to do that for us,” she says and now you're more confused. 

“Oh, I just figured that's why you're calling,” you say as you set the newly folded shirt on a stack of others. 

“No dear, I was calling to ask you to lunch. Are you busy this afternoon?” She says happily. You look at your watch and consider your options. You're not certain you want to be spending time alone with your former mother-in-law. But there are worse ways to spend an afternoon.

“I would love to meet with you. Where did you make reservations?” You ask, knowing that she most likely already made reservations. She laughs and mentions that you know her too well. “I will see you at one,” you promise and say your goodbyes. While you finish folding and start getting ready you run through the scenarios of how the lunch is going to go. 

As you arrive at the restaurant, your stomach begins to turn. It's a nice place. The last time you went to a nice place with one of Jean's parents, it was with her father asking you to convince Jean to not go through with the divorce. Since then you haven't been asked to dinner or lunch with either of them. 

Mrs. Grey greets you with a hug as you arrive at the table. She gives you a kiss on each cheek and she squeezes your arms as she looks at you. “You look great, I love what you've done with your hair. It's nice to see it cleaned up and natural like that.” 

You smile at the compliment. She has seen you with many different hairstyles over the years. She has almost never had anything nice to say about your hair until now. Your hair was growing out uneven because of the mullet so you had to cut it short in order for it to grow out properly. “Yeah, well, it wasn't working for me for a bit there. You look wonderful! How are things with you and Mr. Grey? I hear the two of you have been doing a lot of traveling.” 

Mrs. Grey nods and moves to sit, “We've been good. All of our kids are so spread out, it's nice to have a reason to go somewhere. Meet all of our new grandbabies. I just love being a grandma now,” she grins as she lays out the cloth napkin on her lap. You follow as you look around the restaurant, feeling a bit out of place. It was a very nice restaurant. 

“Oh yeah, I had heard that Roger finally had a kid,” you say as you lift up the menu to look at the pricing. 

“Yeah, yeah, he's doing great, very happy to be a father,” she says as she goes through the menu herself. “Don't be shy now, order what you want. It's my treat!” She reminds you in a cherry tone. Something tells you that things might eventually take a turn for the worst and you do not want to leave her with a big bill. You want to be able to leave money to cover your portion of the bill. 

“I appreciate that, Mom,” it feels a little foreign to call her that after all of these years. But if it makes her happy, then that's what you'll do to appease her. 

You proceed to order what you can afford. You ask her about how your former in-laws are. She mentions that they miss having you officially part of the family. That none of them get along with Anna which makes you laugh since none of them actually have to deal with Jean's wife the way that you do. 

You update her on your life, leaving out that you're seeing someone. Especially when she presses for the information. You don't let up because it's not the time to. Besides, you're almost certain if you tell her anything she will tell Jean then she and her wife will be on your case about it. Then Jean will recruit Kate and the information will continue to spread like rapid fire. 

When you're able to drop the subject of your love-life you talk about how proud you are of your daughter. How great she's doing in school. The friends that she has made. How kind she is. How strong she is becoming. 

Elaine watches you go on and on about her first granddaughter. She is impressed by the way you and her daughter have really stepped up and took on your roles as parents for her grandchild. She knows that she was harsh when the news first came out. But it's clear that neither of you hold her poor reactions against her. 

Finally, once you've both finished your meals, you ask her what is really going on. Elaine dabs her lips with her cloth napkin. She sips her wine. She clears her throat and she looks up at you. 

“My daughter wants to expand her family,” she states in a professional tone. She is a very good negotiator. Her entire adult life and career has been about getting her way. But you aren't nervous, not about this. “And I'm asking you to reconsider helping her do that.” 

You nod your head with a growing smirk as you wipe your mouth with your napkin. “She recruited you,” you state with amusement dancing in your eyes. 

“She is my daughter, I would do anything for her. You should know something about that,” she states with her cold stare. 

“Yes, well, my answer is still the same. She can find someone else to grow her family with. It's not going to be me,” you state as firmly as she was speaking to you. 

Elaine sets her checkbook on the table and you know exactly where this is heading. She tried this with you many times before. Had you accepted any of them, Rachel wouldn't have been born, she wouldn't have you in her life, and the divorce would have been an annulment shortly after you had gotten married. 

“Stop, you know that you can't buy me off Mrs. Grey. I won't do it,” you stand firm. You pull out your wallet and leave whatever cash you have on hand but she stops you. 

“What if I can guarantee you have custody?” She says and you scoff. She was not about to start negotiations. “Jean says she won't budge on it but I think I can convince my daughter what a great influence you are as a parent. Certainly better than that so-called wife of hers,” she rolls her eyes. 

You almost want to laugh at the irony of this conversation. “I can't believe you, the woman who tried to pay me to convince her daughter to have an abortion, is now asking me to get her daughter pregnant.”

“Times have changed. She's not getting any younger and she cannot afford to pay for treatment to-” 

“Why don't you pay for it for her then?” You interrupt her. She clamps her mouth shut. Astonished by your abrupt question. You don't typically stand up for yourself in such a way. You are known to walk away to think or remain quiet. But speaking up to her like this, it's unusual. “If I decide to have another child, it will not be with your daughter. I will not have her and everyone else she mentions this to bully me into changing my mind.” You sigh as the upset quickly leaves your body. “Thank you for the meal, I would love for us to stay in touch and meet again under different circumstances. Better circumstances.” 

You walk out of that restaurant and breathe in the fresh air to calm yourself down. You want to call Jean to tell her off but you don't. Instead, you call Wanda and ask if she is available. It had been a couple of weeks since her son's birthday where she admitted that she was having conflicting feelings about you and her. You gave her space the last couple of weeks to see if she would reach out on her own. But you needed her now. 

Luckily, she hears the upset tone in your voice and asks you to come over without question. Next thing you know, you're parking your truck in her garage. You walk into her house and she greets you in the laundry room with a hug. 

She takes your hand and leads you to her room. “My mom is having a book club meeting,” she says softly as the two of you quietly climb the stairs. You look over your shoulder to see her mom surrounded by a group of women her age engrossed in a conversation discussing presumably the book that's in their hands. 

You sit on the edge of Wanda’s bed and look at your hands. You let out a big breath. You have missed being in her presence the last couple of weeks and part of you hates that this is the way that you return to her presence. 

Wanda stands by the door, she has her fingers laced together as she observes you. She has missed having you around. She knows that she is the one who asked for space but she didn't consider that you would actually respect that request. No matter how good this time apart has been for her. It gave her time to reflect and realize that the only red flags you have are the red flags she has. Nothing extreme, nothing she can't handle. She has been meaning to call you and invite you over but she couldn't explain why she needed the space so she waited until she could. She expected the next time she'd see you, you would have that award winning smile of yours. She didn't expect to see you this way. This upset. 

��What happened, Y/n?” She finally asks. You look up at her and blink a couple of times.

“I…” you sigh and lick your lips. “Jean got her mom to ask me to help her have another baby.” You rip the bandaid off not seeing any other way to approach the subject. Wanda gasps as she sits next to you. 

“I thought they moved on from that,” Wanda says as she puts her hand on your back.

You nod, “So did I, but they completely blind sided me. Her mom was willing to pay me off.” 

Wanda shakes her head. “Unbelievable. I cannot believe her. I cannot believe she would do that! After everything that happened the last time she asked you. I cannot believe she would get her mom involved in this to pay you off!” 

You agree, it is insane that they would bring this up again. Let alone bring her mother into this. You cannot believe that it has come to this. You almost want to cave just so that they'd leave you alone about this. You sigh as you reach for Wanda's hand. “Should I give them a baby? I mean, not in the way they wanted but I don't know. Should I just… donate to them. Am I the one that's just being crazy and stubborn?” You ask as you think about the amount of stories you've found online where families have done this sort of thing. That a couple that cannot produce a child on their own approached their ex partner to have another baby together. And they accept with no issues. You're starting to think you were being selfish.

“Y/n, you're not being crazy. You don't want to do that. It's your choice, you have a choice in this and you chose not to do it. That is something they have to respect. The whole thing is completely unfair to you.” Wanda reminds you as she turns your head to face her by pulling your chin. “Yes, had you agreed the first time, it could have been seen as this selfless beautiful thing that you did. But I've watched you tear yourself apart about this. It would have destroyed you to agree to it. You would have regretted it the moment that she announced that she was pregnant. You would have regretted it every week you had to pick up Rachel and pretend that her sibling is not your child too. You would have hated yourself when one day that child found out the truth and felt like you abandoned them. You made the right decision not only for yourself now but for everyone in the future.”

You listen to Wanda as she speaks so strongly about your decision. Defending you against your thoughts of yourself and against the perception of everyone else against you. 

She has a point. This scenario can only be a beautiful one if everyone was in agreement. But you don't want this. That was never in your mind in terms of expanding your family. The thought never occurred to you that they'd one day approach you about helping them with that especially since Anna seemed disinterested in the idea of ever caring for a baby. She would tell people the reason she wanted to adopt was because she could avoid the baby stage. 

Now she wants to ask this huge thing of you because she is insecure of her role in Rachel's life? You could not believe it. 

“You're right,” you say as you hold eye contact with her. You hadn't realized just how much you've missed gazing into those green eyes of hers until now. “I'm sorry to dump this on you. How are you doing? Have you figured out what you needed to?” 

Wanda shakes her head as she scoots closer to you. “This is something serious. I'm glad you came to me with this instead of sitting alone in your apartment or going to Bucky and Steve whose solutions are typically to just let you vent and drink. Which is not helpful because then they just dump you onto me.” You let out a soft huff of a laugh as you nod because it's true. She caresses your cheek with the back of her fingers as she pulls her bottom lip under her teeth with her tongue. Her eyes bounce around, gazing into your eyes, glancing at your lips. “And I have, by the way. Figured out what I needed to, I mean. I've missed you and I think I'm ready to start telling people about us. Not today or tomorrow but… soon.” She says nervously. You break out into a big grin and pull her against you in a celebratory hug. 

“That just made my day, truly,” you say as you continue to hold her close. Wanda starts to push against you by your shoulders to create some space. As you're about to apologize, she keeps you quiet with her lips on yours. It has felt like a lifetime since you've been able to hold her and kiss her. You're not certain when the last time was and you don't care to think about it as you lay on top of her on her bed.

“We have to be quiet,” she whispers as your lips are on her neck and her fingers are working on your jeans. “I don't want us to embarrass my mom in front of her friends.” 

You chuckle at the statement. “You mean you have to be quiet,” you remind her as your hands slip under her shirt. She lets out a soft whisper and you chuckle again. “See?” 

She rolls her eyes and mutters, “Shut up.”

After, you are holding Wanda in your arms as the pair of you settle down. You start to think about the future. Consider when exactly you will be ready to have another baby. It just seems like it's too late. Rachel is in middle school, she is grown up. When the kids are grown you're not supposed to have more, you're supposed to wait to have grandkids. Then you remind yourself that you are still young enough to have kids. In fact, this is how you have them the proper way. Or at least the way that stable adults have families. 

There's also the fact that Wanda might not want to have more kids. She did try to expand her family but it didn't work and instead her family fell apart. You hate that she blames herself for what Vision did to their family. You clench your jaw at the thought and your arm tenses up. Wanda notices and starts to rub your arm softly. 

“What's on your mind?” Wanda asks with eyes closed as she presses her head further into her pillow. 

You hesitate to speak. This isn't the time to ask about the future of your family with her. This is the time to hold her and worship her. To be present with her and not spinning around in your head. You kiss her cheek as you try to calm down and return to the moment with her. She looks so relaxed and comfortable. You don't want to change that. She deserves to be relaxed for a moment. 

“Nothing, it can wait until tomorrow,” you whisper as you loosen your hold on her. 

“Mmm no, we can talk now. If you need,” Wanda fights her sleep as she tries to open her eyes. You shake your head with a smile. 

“Go to sleep, we can talk about it tomorrow,” you repeat yourself as you caress her cheek. Wanda tries to hold onto consciousness a bit longer. It was a little early for bedtime but she was exhausted and perfectly satisfied. Every muscle in her body was asleep after the massage you had given her. As well as the many other things you did to pleasure her.

She doesn't fight you or her body anymore. She falls into a deep sleep and you follow shortly, once you're able to shut off your mind. 

You wake to her alarm and you curse yourself as you remember that you didn't set your phone up to charge. This wasn't meant to happen the way it did. But you only have yourself to blame as you find your dying phone. You quickly set it up to charge while you get ready. You brush your teeth and get dressed in the clothes you wore the day before. Wanda showers and goes through her morning routine. While she does, you head down stairs to make coffee for her and yourself. 

As you're pouring the coffee into the mugs, Wanda is walking down with wet hair and a casual outfit. “No meetings today?” You ask as you slide her mug towards her. She typically dresses up a bit more when she has meetings with her co-workers and/or clients and potential clients. She shakes her head as she lifts her mug to her face and sits on the stool at the counter. You nod and check your watch to gauge how much time you have before going to work. 

“It's Sunday,” Wanda says as she swallows. You look at her like she's crazy until you realize that she is right. It's not Monday quite yet. You start laughing to yourself as you set your coffee down. 

“I'm all messed up from yesterday,” you laugh as you gesture towards your head. “Speaking of which,” you clear your throat and look into your mug. You bite your cheek nervously as you think of the best way to approach the subject. “Have you thought about having more kids?” You ask with your eyes bouncing between Wanda and your mug. 

Wanda sets her mug down and clears her throat. “I think I'm going to need this coffee to kick in before I'm ready to have that conversation.” You nod in agreement and scratch the back of your head with a nervous laugh. She was right, this was not something you talk about first thing in the morning. 

So you ask her how she slept and if she was hungry. Then you make her some breakfast, as you're cooking the aroma wakes her mother so you make enough for all three of you. Then the topic of conversation becomes her mother and the book club. Apparently, the meeting was less about the book and more about gossip as you listen to stories about people you've never met and may never meet in your life. 

Once everyone is done eating, you try to wash the dishes but Ms. Maximoff refuses to allow you to since you made the breakfast. She has Wanda clean them on her own while she traps you in a longer conversation about you and your future. Your girlfriend tries to spare you but her mother is very insistent. You stumble your way through some answers since some of her questions are questions you have yourself. 

She starts to ease up on you and starts to go on and on about her life and gossip from around her neighborhood. The scandals of the elder community. You react as though you care that Marjorie is sleeping with Thom and Chad, which makes you realize there are elders with the name Chad, without either knowing. Or that you sympathize with the 

After a while, Wanda gives you the signal that she is ready to talk. You nod and attempt to end the conversation with her mother. You fail miserably and Wanda has to come to your rescue. 

“Mom, hey, I need to take Y/n from you,” she says as she pulls on you to rise from your seat. 

“Oh but we're having so much fun! I haven't even gone over what David over on the corner house might be up to. Giant garbage bags, every other week. We think it's bodies or-” 

“Mom,” Wanda interrupts. “I’m taking my partner back. Okay?” She pulls you closer to her and Ms. Maximoff laughs. She waves the two of you off and says that she needs to get started on her day anyway. You turn to Wanda with a shrug. 

The two of you walk to her bedroom to privately discuss. Wanda shuts her bedroom door and you walk around her room. Looking at her photos as you usually do. Wanda sits on her bed with her back against the headboard. Her eyes follow your every move as she thinks about your question. She can have more kids. She talked with her gynecologist at her most recent check up just in case this conversation ever did come up. Her doctor said she had never seen such clean results from Wanda. She assured her that she would be fine to have another baby, maybe ever two of she desired.

But did Wanda want to have another baby? Her boys are so close to becoming teenagers. Your daughter is right there as well. Would it be wise for the two of you to have another baby? 

“I don't know how I feel about intentionally trying for a baby at this point in my life.” Wanda starts, grabbing your attention away from the photo of her on her first day of college. “I have two pre-teenage boys who can be a handful at times and are already struggling with the younger siblings they have from their father. I don't know if I want to contribute to their insecurities by having another child,” she expressed her concerns when it comes to her boys.

You nod as you join her on the bed. You sit in front of her just next to her legs. You reach for her hand and she willingly gives you her hand. “Hey, I'm not even certain I want another kid. I was only asking because I keep saying no to Jean. I don't want you to think I'm saying no to you.” 

Wanda looks at you and tilts her head. “If I'm honest, I didn't consider that. I know that the situation with Jean and what's happening between us are completely separate things. So that didn't cross my mind,” she explains that your worries aren't hers in that regard.

“Well, that's reassuring,” you chuckle softly because you feel a little ridiculous about making that assumption. “I'm open to the idea with you. But I'm fine if you don't want to go through another pregnancy.” 

Wanda pulls your hand closer towards her. She looks at the palm of your hand and traces the lines with her finger tip. She thinks about the art you make with this hand. The pleasures you've brought her with this hand. The tears you've wiped from her face. The food you've made. Then she thinks about you holding her pregnant belly when the weight gets to be too much for her. She thinks about you holding her child in this hand. Butterflies flutter in her stomach at the idea. 

“Let's just… if it happens, we'll talk about it then,” she says softly. “We'll go over our options at that time. But let's not make a thing of it. We don't need to start telling people about us and including that we're trying. We can just,” she shrugs as she drops your hand and places her arms around your shoulders as she leans forward. “Well we haven't even discussed marriage yet but knowing your track record, kids are what come first.” She teases and your eyes widen momentarily to show your shock and amusement of the statement. 

“Of course, with most people they just get a sappy speech and a ring. With me, you get real commitment,” you add jokingly which makes the two of you laugh. You lean closer and kiss her lips. “You're right. We need to be talking about marriage and our commitment to each other before we talk about having kids. I only brought it up because of everything that's going on right now.”

Wanda smirks, “I know honey, that's why I entertained the conversation without shutting you down. It's one of the many topics of conversation we should have before going straight to the marriage of it all. You know? What if we got married and weren't on the same page about this?”

You nod as you agree, “It's exactly why I'm glad we're taking things slow. I would love to whisk you away to Vegas and elope. And I probably would have if we'd have met at a different time in our lives. But we both have a lot to consider outside of ourselves.” 

Wanda's thumb moves back and forth on your neck. “You're a very wise and considerate person, Y/n. What did I ever do to deserve you?” Her eyes are locked on yours as she searches for any kind of malice or false intentions. All she finds is kindness. She cannot fathom what her life would be like had you not made yourself part of it. 

“Have an ex with poor taste in liquor,” you remark on the first conversation you ever had with her. She smiles. 

“I was a mess,” she states as she bites her bottom lip and drops her face shyly. 

You nod in agreement. “You were, and I didn't want to seem like some creep going after vulnerable people by talking to you. By the way, my intentions were pure. That night.” You point between the two of you. “I never had this goal in mind until the night we hung out after my camping trip.” 

She looks back up, a little shocked by this news. Especially since you ended up dating someone else after that night. “Really? So why go after Daisy?” She asks as she looks over your features. Taking in every detail of your face. Your jawline, your smooth skin with a chicken pox scar on your forehead. She loves every detail of you. 

You shrug as you try to remember that time. It was only several months ago. Or was it a year ago by now? It feels like a lifetime ago. “Fear, insecurities, and a long list of other reasons that don't make a lot of sense but at the same time they do. I mean, we're still afraid to be together.” 

Wanda nods as she listens to you explain. You're not wrong there. She was pushing you away for weeks because of how afraid she is to be in love with you. “I'm not anymore. Afraid, I mean. I love you and I only want to be with you. I hope forever but you never know.” 

You chuckle at her last comment and kiss her on the lips. “Yeah, you never know.” She smiles before leaning in for another kiss. You rub the spots on her back where you have your hands placed. You continue to pull her closer and closer as the kiss continues. You love her and you can't wait to tell everyone.

Chapter 26

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[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! How about 19 or 23 for the hand-holding prompts?

Well, I was going to put those together, but then the mood got a little too serious for 19 23: Holding hands under the table

There was not just Sarah and the boys.

There wasn't another immediate Wilson sibling, despite Sam continuously trying to trick Bucky (and convincing Sarah to play along every now and then) into thinking there was a lost brother. But both Paul and Darlene Wilson had siblings, so Sam and Sarah had a ton of cousins and whatever the next generation would be to them. Darlene's family, the Blakes, mostly lived on the other side of New Orleans. The other Wilsons lived down the coastline, towards Texas. Paul and Darlene had settled on Delacroix as a kind-of mid-point between their families.

Sam talked about long summer trips that always had to be a Thing as far as planning went, because wrangling two young kids for hours in the car was not a two-way-one-day kind of affair. He talked about weekends spent in New Orleans, or showing his cousins around all the bayous of Delacroix. He talked about threatening to run away to the pine forests of the Louisiana-Texas border when he was a teenager, because he'd spent so many summer weeks exploring them as a kid.

Bucky hadn't met any of them, except for the odd cousin who drifted through town and came to say hi to Sam and Sarah. Time went on and families grew and big gatherings were less likely to come to fruition. Besides, Sam was busy and it's not like Bucky could just go to the smaller functions with Sarah. (Well, he could, but he wasn't going to. That would just be...imposing, probably)

But there was Paul and Darlene's Celebration of Life 25th Anniversary and almost everyone had said they'd be there. And despite the fact that Bucky got such bad cold feet the night before he slept on the boat to avoid being even more overwhelmed, Sam still told him to come. Please. It was always the please that got him. He'd deny Sam very little in the world, truth be told, but once that please was out there, he was a fish on a hook.

Sarah kept saying not everyone was there but Bucky couldn't believe that. There were so, so, so, so many people. The same creeping dread that had plagued him the night before was back, curling at his stomach and keeping a flush high on his face.

He wanted to make a good impression, but that was difficult even for the best life partners. The fact that many of these people probably already had an opinion of him was making it much worse. The fact that it was Sam and Sam deserved the sun, the moon, and all the stars was the real nail in the coffin. Everyone here should know that and instead, there was Bucky on his arm instead.

It was interesting to keep catching Sam's features in other people's faces. He knew Sam took more heavily after his mom. Many of the Blakes had the same gap in their teeth and his high cheekbones. But someone had come up to him almost immediately when he arrived--an older woman that Sam didn't seem to recognize, but hid well--and grabbed his face as she said in a watery but proud breath, "Oh, you look just like him. I can't believe it."

And then she'd disappeared and left Sam blinking at nothing.

It was interesting too to see how many of the younger generations of Wilsons did look like Sam and Sarah as well. All tall and regal in a way Bucky didn't think should be genetic but apparently was. It was the hidden features where Paul came out on Sam's face. Their eyes, namely. Apparently they glinted the same way. And the crooked set of their mouths. "Oh, trouble," one of Sam's aunts had said halfway through a scheme of his and a cousin's. "No, no, no. Paulie used to make the same face. You go sit down. Have some cake." And she shooed him off, away from some strange beer bottle bowling pin game construction.

Sam talked like Paul too, Bucky learned from other people at the event, the handful who talked to him when Sam wasn't beside him. Sure, on the TV, for sure. But also just as he meandered around the party and cajoled stories from people or pitched into his own epic tales. (No, he had not actually caught a three foot long fish recently, nor had he battled a horde of aliens in Oregon the other day. There were, like, six max)

Bucky picked up stories about Paul and Darlene too. People telling him about silly things Sam had done in high school that his parents had as well. The way Sam was carrying on their memory in everything he did now. One man from the church swore him to secrecy and gave him Paul Wilson's old sermon's book, which was filled with lectures he'd given, but dozens and dozens of stories he hadn't shared. Lots of them pertaining to Sam.

"I just knew," the man said, patting Bucky's hand on the journal, "One day I'd be able to give this away to someone else to take care of. You can't give it to him." This was imperative in the deal. "But you must remind him of what's in it, always. And you can't die," he added seriously, teeth clicking together with the force of his words. "I was gonna give it to his friend from the military, but he died before he came back. I wouldn't have ever gotten it back. Sam would've had it. You can't let him have it."

This was more responsibility than Bucky was expecting. Sarah had told him to distract the kids and make sure people didn't take half the strawberry pretzel cake in one go. (Three different people were culprits for this and Bucky had to stop a whole different, younger, person from taking a quarter of it at a time.) And it was a responsibility he didn't fully understand. Still, Bucky nodded, just as seriously, and put the notebook in his backpocket. He'd have to stash it in the truck later because his backpocket was for Sam's hand, but Sam was helping set up the slideshow inside, so he was safe for now.

(When he'd asked about the man, Sam had said he was his godfather. He and Paul had been closer than twins growing up, but had drifted apart as Sam and Sarah grew up. Still called now and then, but not regularly. Sent the same birthday present every year, but it was never late)

Thankfully, the meal was inside. Not thankfully, Sam, Sarah, and the boys were, of course, at the front of the hall and Bucky could only hide behind Sam's shoulder for so long.

The slideshow full of images of Paul and Darlene as kids, as young people, and their life as a couple and a family played on the stage. There were so many pictures, Bucky didn't think it would have to loop over. Sam explained why there were some gaps, where albums or cameras had been ruined in storms or other catastrophes. It only took a few moments for Sam to grab Bucky's hand beneath the table.

His fingers were shaking and, when Bucky looked up at him, his throat kept bobbing as he swallowed and swallowed and swallowed.

"Sweetheart," Bucky whispered, leaning forward to be close enough for only Sam to hear. "Are you alright?"

"Don't sweetheart me right now," Sam breathed back, eyes squeezing shut for a few seconds before he opened them again. His waterlines were wet, eyes shining. "I'm fine. Just...don't let go of my hand. Please."

Bucky nodded, took the opportunity to kiss Sam's shoulder, and sat back in his seat. He put both hands around Sam's, one to tangle their fingers together and one to trace nothing designs into Sam's skin. Sam squeezed his hand in acknowledgement and then loosened his hold again.

Many different people spoke. People from the church, people from the foodbank, which Darlene had helped run apparently, their friends, their family. Someone talked about sleeping on the Wilson's couch for two weeks while she figured a safe way out of town, how the Wilsons didn't know her from anyone but opened their door to her anyway, that she named her daughter Darlene.

Sam squeezed his hand and Bucky squeezed it back, moving his thumb along the length of Sam's fingers, back to his knuckles, and up the next one, slow and constant and firm.

The last person to speak was a woman Sam knew, but who Bucky hadn't gotten to talk to. She had just been finishing her conversation with Sam when Bucky had found him again earlier, stuck around long enough for Sam to make his introductions before she was pulled away. She knew Paul and Darlene from around town. Wouldn't say she was a best friend, more a busy body, but she kept an eye on them, so lovely and young as they were, perfect little children too.

"And that's where I'd like to end the speeches for tonight," she said. "With their children. Sam, Sarah, your mama and papa wouldn't have asked for a better legacy in life. Watching you grow up, in the face of joy and adversity, with grace and poise and dignity and elegance. The world was better to have your parents in it, but the world is just as good since you are both here too. We all know of our hometown superhero, but you both, and your parents, were super long before there were any aliens and wings and suits involved. At celebrations of life, I do love to look at the future of these memories. Paul and Darlene are in the best, kindest, strongest hands. This entire room is their future, but you were everything to them and now you are all that they are too."

Sam's throat moved again, but before Bucky could understand what he was doing, Sam had turned and collapsed against Bucky's side, face against Bucky's shoulder. His hand was shaking so badly, it was making Bucky's arm twitch. Bucky kept holding onto him, having to stop smoothing over his hand so he could wrap that arm around Sam's shoulders, hand against his head.

Sam cried silently against his shoulder, warm tears soaking through Bucky's shirt quickly. Bucky adjusted his hand so he could hold Sam's more firmly.

"I've got you," he murmured softly. "It's alright. You're alright."

"I miss them so much. I just want them to know I love them."

Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of Sam's head and stayed there. "They know, Sammy. Of course they do."

"They made me. Of course everything I do is them. I'm who I am 'cause of them. And no one else knows their name."

"Baby, look at how many people came out to celebrate them. They know. They all know."

"It's not enough. I'm not doing--" Sam voice stuttered off and he clung onto Bucky's hand even harder.

"They love you, Sam," Bucky said softly, kissed his head again. "And they're proud of you. Everything about you. You are a miracle."

Sam swiped at his eyes quickly, took in another stuttering breath. "How many people are looking at me?"

Pointedly, no one was looking at him, but that was a terrible answer. "The cornbread just refreshed, so everyone's fighting over the biggest pieces," Bucky said instead. "No one's looking at you."

"Mrs. Miriam can't cut an even slice, even if angel wings were waitin' for her afterwards," Sam said. Bucky let the posturing go without comment. He wiped his eyes again, sniffled, and then cleared his throat.

No sooner had he sat up than one of the cousins' little ones came tripping over and climbed into Sam's lap while her mom shouted at her to leave him alone. "Mr. Sam," she said seriously. "I want to fly. How do I do that?" She waved a bat plushie for emphasis.

Sam laughed, watery but stronger. "Well, you have to eat your vegetables," he said seriously.

Instantly her nose scrunched. "Even the okra?" she asked.

"Especially the okra!" Sam cried out in affront.

"Okra is gross," Bucky agreed with her conspiratorially.

The girl thrilled with vindication and launched into a story about how she broke her arm leaping off of a tree (another thing that must be genetic because Sam and Sarah had done that too) and Sam caught his breath while listening to her. He squeezed Bucky's hand again.

Bucky squeezed it back and did not let go.

[rhyrhy]

hiii i was wondering if u could do headcanons/anything of abby being your bestfriends older sister or ur brothers bestfriend???

I couldn’t pick so I mixed them! Mwah, TY for the request 💐

Brother’s older bestfriend - headcannons, Abby!

Older Abby! Who religiously spent the weekend hanging out with your brother, for as long as you could remember. Giving you her usual “heya” greeting before disappearing upstairs.

Older Abby! Who on the days when your brother forgets about you for whatever girl he’s seeing at the time, always offers you a ride. “I’m going to your house anyway” she always said with a shrug.

Older Abby! who can’t resist chiming in when you’re talking to your brother about your own girl drama. “If she sucks, dump her. Easy.” Like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And every time you show a picture of a girl you’re talking to, she twists her face in disapproval and adds “ugh, You can do better.”

Older Abby! who always makes your brother apologize when he’s upset you, even over the smallest things. “Don’t be an ass. Go say sorry,” she’d say with her arms crossed. When he came back with an eye roll, she’d chuckle, “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Older Abby! who gets a kick out of ruffling your hair after you’ve spent an hour perfecting it. Your pout or exasperated “Knock it off!” only makes her laugh. “Relax, it looks fine,” she’d say, smoothing it down after she’s had her fun.

Older Abby! who notices your glances at her arms and subtly flexes just to see your reaction. Every time, she bites back a grin, watching your reaction. She’d figured out your little crush a while ago, but she thought it was harmless.

Older Abby! who’s always had a good relationship with your parents. She even helps clean up whenever she stays for dinner. Once, she cleaned up after you when you got distracted with something else, and when you patted her arm to thank her, she realized how much she secretly enjoyed your praise. “Mhm, No problem,” she’d reply casually, though her cheeks would flush the second you turned away.

Older Abby! Who found herself asking your brother about you when you weren’t home. “So, how’s sis?” She’d ask casually, to ease any wondering thoughts she had. “Just askin” she’d add quickly, knowing he’d tease her to hell or worse rung her neck if he caught on.

Older Abby! who starts complimenting you more often as time goes on. “Cool shirt,” or “That looks good,” she’d say in passing, trying to keep her cool while avoiding staring too long.

Older Abby! who begins gravitating toward you without realizing it. Whether it’s leaning against the counter while you’re in the kitchen or hanging over the couch you’re sitting on, she starts subconsciously seeking out your presence and aren’t complaining.

Older Abby! who starts including you in more of her plans with your brother. “Wanna join?” or “That’s boring, come hang out instead,” she’d say, already pulling you out of your room by the wrist.

Older Abby! who gets flustered when your brother catches her staring as you walk past his room. “Abby Anderson, tell me you did not just check out my younger sister,” he’d say, jaw dropped. “What? No! Pfft Absolutely not,” she’d wave off, feeling her stomach twist in knots.

Older Abby! who shows up one day only to find your brother forgot to tell her he needed to cancel. Instead of leaving, she decides to stick around with you. “You busy?” she’d ask casually, already making herself at home on your bed. By the time your brother came back, she’d spent hours with you and had no intention of leaving.

Older Abby! who one day, overhears you squealing about something you got in the mail and can’t resist sneaking down the hall to see what it is. “Hey, what’s got you so excited?” she’d ask, leaning against your doorframe with a grin.

Older Abby! whose eyes widen when you pull her into an excited hug and blurt out the news. She doesn’t pull away, smiling as she wraps her arms around you.

Older Abby! who finds herself caught in the moment when a sudden kiss happens. She knows she should stop, but instead, she pulls you closer, letting it continue.

Older Abby! who, when the kiss breaks, can’t tear her gaze from your lips. “Jesus… Your brother’s gonna kill me,” she mutters, her voice lowered. “But I’m not stopping.”

Older Abby! who realizes she’s returning your feelings and decides she’ll face the consequences later

because right now, she doesn’t care.

[bogkeep]

okay i Finally. finished wind and truth

first i wanna preface that maybe i should've waited to read/listen to this book until i was in the right mood for it, and until i had some better Quality Audiobook Focus Time (which is usually when i work with clocks at school) instead of scattering it piecemeal throughout my winter break. at least the second half i've been listening to while assembling watches at my practice placement, which has worked very well.

as for the Mood, i just haven't been vibing that much with brandon sanderson's work lately, not because it's Bad or anything, it just hasn't been scratching the right itch. i still feel dismayed with all the worldhopper business and the MCU feel that they invoke in me. i also feel like the last two books have had more of a pathologizing bent to them, bringing contemporary psychology into a high fantasy world in a way that feels Weird. i loved the first three stormlight books so so much and they didn't feel Like That, i think. granted, i also read them for the first time before a kind of. uh. a period in my life that for better or for worse changed who i am as a person, and my tastes in stories might just have Changed.

i think the two first books especially have a much more limited scope, and stayed very close to their worldbuilding, which was a huge draw for me in the first place. but with the introduction of more and more Cosmere Lore and Off-World Characters it has gotten harder for me to keep up and keep invested in the larger plot, like... first we establish a lot of rules and now we insert elements that don't follow the established rules so keep up!! same goes with the modern psychology aspects - inserting concepts from our contemporary culture, particularly concepts that our perception of which changes frequently as we learn more about them, into a world as alien as roshar, just. feels intrusive! obviously i think roshar should have therapists, but it seems incredibly odd to me that nobody on this planet has "invented" therapy in any form for thousands of years. idk. i don't know how to feel about kaladin's therapist arc! thematically, as a synthesis between his medical identity and his military identity, i'd buy it. he's always been inspiring and has experience overcoming bad brain times. but in practice... idk!!! idk. i think angling it explicitly as therapy made it weird to me.

it was similar with shallan's plurality - book three had her accepting her plurality, and book four had this incredible intro with her being open about it, changing her hair color to indicate who was fronting, veil making friends with kaladin and adolin as her own person, i Loved That So Much. but then the book got like, Really medical and clinical about it, like you can tell the author talked to some people for increased accuracy, but it... mh. reducing shallan's alters from their own people to "no we are Purely a coping mechanism who only exist as training wheels to you" made me so sad. like, Thematically i understand why shallan's story is taking the integration route, but it made me so sad to fridge veil over it! like, several characters in these books get arcs centering about accepting their personhood and their right to exist in peace and make their own choices, but veil and radiant Don't Get That because the story hammers in that they're Just coping mechanisms. i would personally much have preferred that for shallan's character development, they relinquish their burdens to her (her Memories and her Violence) and then they could stay and exist and find identities beyond those burdens. maybe that's a radical take but it is my take

ANYWAY sorry that's a lot of lukewarm dismay. here's things i enjoyed:

- ace jasnah !!!! jasnah is ace.

- i really liked kaladin's, dalinar's, szeth's and adolin's arcs !

- genuinely dalinar is an incredibly written character and his arc over all five books is really really good and i think about dalinar moments often. i love that he has changed so much and still finds new ways to change. i can't believe it took like five books for me to go "wait is the way of kings just The Bible. is this an allegory for the bible" and even then i still think it works so so well. like i think his story would rule even if it was just straight up the bible and nohadon is jesus

- kaladin and syl dancing together <33333333

- very happy for renarin and rlain congrats to them

- the more i think about adolin's arc the more i love it. i love that he lost a leg Possibly Permanently. i love that he had a Privilege Revelation in the middle of a life or death fight. i love that he forms bonds with spren without oaths that rules so much

- gavinor as odium's champion was an inspired choice!!!!! i'm sad that he got sidelined so early when things could get soooo juicy

- i am So pleased szeth fired his spren. i am also very pleased that his spren got character development

- oh god when i realised szeth's mental illness arc was moral ocd. yowch (complimentary)

- szeth's story in general... man !!!!!!!

anyway that's what ive got for now. my freshest impressions straight from the oven